A couple of questions for the DMs out there.

Just had to snip it down to that one quote there, since it’s so good.

I actually agree with much of what you said and am not interested in playing with Adversarial GMs who intentionally fuck with players (I’ve dropped more than one game because of those types).

My main objection was the “I’ll beat you up” crap in your post. I just wasn’t interested in getting into a pissing contest about it in this forum.

And see my own post about about how my last two campaigns have gone down in flames with the loss of friendships because people got lazy, stupid and antagonistic.

Maybe you just suck!

:smiley:

Well, that was more in the line of, “If you’re going to go out of your way to personally insult me and mess with me, we may as well have a big fistfight and send things off in style.”

Thank you for the kudos on the noneuclidean enemies line!

Remember - DM’s dont kill players! It’s the werewolves, the vampires, the weresharks, etc
Just watch out for any rocks falling from the sky :slight_smile:

And by all means - “ya gotta rape, pillage, and burn - eat babies”

Maybe I do, despite all previous accolades for my GMing.

But for example, when my players willingly invade a Kobold Prison and find the entrance to be a 8’ tall, 5’ wide curving tunnel… (kinda oversized for 2’ tall Kobolds, eh?) and then whine about it, saying “You should just make every tunnel 10’ high and 10’ wide. That makes it easier to move and more fun!”

I gotta think it’s not me. :dubious:

Well, this reminds me of a DM of my acquaintance who ran us through a dungeon where pretty much every tunnel was five feet wide and not much more high. The practical upshot, whatever the rationale, was that maybe two players could ever do anything at all - and apparently the remaining five or six of us were to find this exciting and stimulating for four or five hours at a time. My poor illusionist resorted to casting Improved Phantasmal Force to provide a brass band to march us back to our lodgings after one adventure in which he’d had no opportunity to do anything else. I gotta think it wasn’t me. :dubious:

You know, one of my old DMs learned his lesson about odd corridor sizes back in the days we were playing AD&D. See, we’d gone down this long corridor to find the proverbial 10’ x 10’ room with a hydra in it.

How did the hydra get in there? You’re not paying attention: I said this was AD&D.

Anyway, his (~16-yr. old) daughter was playing the magic-user, and cast fireball.
16-yr. old Me (monk, with boots of speed: “I RUUUUUUN!!!”
Others (divers ages): blank looks
DM: groan

15-minutes later, after calculating the blast volume of the fireball (different inside and outside, remember!), and then calculating how much of the non-standard corridor had filled with flame, my speedy monk barely made it out. The druid made a valiant effort, but alas, no. We just sort of patted the thief and cleric on the back, sadly.

Both hydra, and magic-user, shared a crematorium urn.

And the moral of the story is… well, there isn’t one. It’s just a dumb story. If only the DM had thought to make the hydra noneuclidean!

Who needs to run? In AD&D your monk was cool if he made his saving throw - zero damage no matter what. :smiley:

In my case, it was a single, 50’ long tunnel that opened into a 30’ room with high ceilings. And still they whined about it, because they were foolish enough to get bunched up and trapped in the tunnel rather than break out into the room. Which was only a temporary condition, because they ultimately DID break out into the room and slaughter the kobold guards. But the initial problem was theirs. The unfortunate “solution” was to whine loudly and complain about being expected to THINK.

From that room, all the tunnels were 3’ high. This was the entrance for the Kobold’s Human accomplices. The players were at least smart enough not to attempt to continue past that point.

Which leads me to… In your case it was you. Don’t continue to play in that environment. YOU are the fools if you keep pressing forward in that dungeon. Me, I’d express my boredom after an hour or so and insist that my character (and anyone else who was tired of doing nothing) was going to go back to the inn to have a beer and wait while the few players who could do anything had all the fun.

Or I’d have started using my illusions to send marching bands down the tunnels in front of us to flush out waiting ambushes, rather that just whining about how I couldn’t do anything useful.

Lightray; In the AD&D era, we had all sorts of illogical crap. Dungeons tended to be random collections of halls and rooms that made no sense at all, filled with monsters that had no reason to be there, guarding treasure that existed only to be plundered.

And we still loved it.

Noneuclidean monsters is the single best reason to play Call of Cthulhu. :smiley:

Ohh, Random Harlot Table, how I miss you. sniff

On the subject of “being bored doing nothing”…

In the last session of our War of the Burning Sky campaign, we started with my Bard negotiating between seven different religious sects over the building of a common temple building, which was all the town of Sequen was willing to provide resources for.

I started by expressing my unwillingness to dominate the session and leave everyone else sitting around watching. When the GM insisted and we moved forward, I continued to express my discomfort with the idea that we had four other players doing nothing. This led him to bring them in, one at a time, to provide special bonuses or help in regards to specific sects. In the end, I was still a bit iffy about how much time had been taken up by one person and openly stated that I didn’t want to see us do something like that again.
In a previous Ravenloft game, it tended to have a few character deaths. The GM was horrible about how he brought in new characters. It usually took him the entire night to work up the exact circumstances for bringing them in, leaving that player bored out of their minds and seriously annoyed at being left out. We (all of the other players at the table) ultimately started jumping in, saying that we were looking for people with “trustworthy” stamped on their foreheads, that we were straight out dropping everything we were doing to look for the new character, et al. To no avail. The last time that he did this, that I was involved anyway, was attempting to introduce his wife’s new character. She got introduced at 10:10pm, when the session was supposed to have ended at 10pm.

At that point, we had to just plain stop the GM and tell him outright that he was taking far too long to introduce new characters in his “exact right manner” and that he needed to KNOCK IT OFF because he was annoying his players. I think the only thing that convinced him that we were right was that his wife was seriously pissed off at him over it.

All I can say is, I am glad there appear to be GMs for all player styles. Many of us play very different styles of game and would find ourselves mutually incompatible. I’ll share my extremely long-winded thoughts on a few issues.

  1. Powergaming/Min-Maxing

I confess: I am a shameless optimizer. I start with an image of a character in my head and a superficial idea of his capabilities. Then I am build him in a way that is utterly devastating. I will take one level dips in prestige classes, I will create synergies, and I will do all sorts of reasonably original things well within the constraints of the rules from books all over the map. This isn’t subordinating role-playing to roll-playing: this is taking an idea I have and turning it into something awesome. My last swordsage/ardent was practically a work of art, if I do say so myself, and a very simple build.

Frankly, I enjoy doing this. I do not do it to punish DMs. I don’t do it because I am a munchkin with no control over my real life. I do it because optimizing within constraints is enjoyable to me for its own sake. Shockingly enough, I do it professionally as well.

I do the same thing as a GM. I expect my players are going to optimize and create suitable challenges. This isn’t a contest to see who has bigger balls: I want the players to feel rewarded for overcoming difficult problems with clever ideas on the spot and well-designed characters. I try to err on the side of too challenging, knowing that it is easier to tone down or remove encounters on the fly than it is to ramp them up. And absolutely none of this compromises flavor, character, or atmosphere.

My current character is a very simple Beguiler with a one level dip in Mindbender. Between feats, gear, and spell choices, he is just splendid at crowd control and locking down foes great and small. My GM has accepted the fact that it is rare for ordinary monsters to make their Will saves. It does happen, though, and I certainly do not bitch about it. :wink:

Rather than try to limit my character, she just makes his lockdown skills a requirement for us to win battles. If I don’t charm/dominate/fascinate/entangle/etc enemies successfully, then our party will wipe. Same goes for the other characters in the group.

Again, as a GM, I accept that I am playing with clever players with well-built characters. Sometimes I plan an intricate encounters with twists, turns, and drama. And sometimes my players are going to utterly disembowel me from the beginning of the fight, crushing my great ideas under boots of striding & springing. I just have to let it go and shelve the unused twists & turns and save them for later. Alternatively, sometimes I end up inadvertently bruising my players with an encounter I thought was throwaway. These are great times to bring those twists back out of retirement.

I try to be flexible, let my players do what I want as long as I am having fun, and try not to be too attached to my creations. I am not the director of the show.

  1. Forensic Play

I definitely discourage this both in-game and out of game. As above, gaming is not a contest between me and my players. If they want or need something, I see it as my responsibility to find interesting ways to give it to them.

I have been in games where GMs tried to reign in the wealth and capabilities with an iron fist. As a consequence, we as players took everything that wasn’t nailed down. We just instinctively resisted the control and the entire exercise became more competitive: how can we extract wealth within the rules despite the inclinations of our GM. Fortunately our GM realized this, we all had a talk, and we all readjusted our expectations and style. Life for everyone improved.

Like Manda Jo, we absolutely love good gold sinks. We trick out our boats, bars, and brothels to the nines. Not only do these dispose of resouces, they also make fantastic adventure fodder.

  1. Realism

I find this irritating more than anything. It is a game. The rules are abstractions. We use the rules because they are practically useful. they may not be perfectly descriptive or work under all conceivable circumstances, but they are internally consistent and intuitive.

As a wizard, I simply expect to be able to target a spell anywhere line of sight and line of effect permit. The possibility of me mistargeting is baked either into the saving through or the touch attack. End of story. If this is too much for a GM, to handle, I would ask him why he does not make the fighters roll to see if they can successfully lift their weapons before they actually roll to hit. I do not play in games characterized by this sort of thing, though I know plenty of people out there love it. It takes all kinds.

If a player has a “realism” issue, I give him about 30 seconds to make his case. Then I make a ruling. Sometimes players are right, and I am happy to throw in positive or negative circumstance bonuses, especially if the player has a really good idea. But frequent arguing over issues that are not material is a great way to get asked not to come back.

My players and I have a sacred and very simple contract. Everyone wants to have fun, and everyone is going to contribute to an environment where we all can have fun. My players know that I will do whatever I can to give them what they ultimately want to get out of their experience. All they have to do is trust me. I ask them to trust me, to exercise a certain amount of self-restraint, and to respect the direction I am trying go with the game. We speak about these things openly and honestly when they come up.

You know, that’s a really simple approach that I don’t see too often, and it makes a lot of sense. You don’t think about it when it comes to fighters; obviously, the tanks have to get in and protect the weaker party members or the party will wipe, but it’s such a basic requirement of encounters that you just don’t think about it in that way. The usual approach is ‘this party member is really good at entangling, so I’ll shut her down for an encounter by making an untangleable creature.’ It’s not necessarily a bad strategy, but it is adversarial in the metagame in a way that the quoted concept isn’t.

I agree. :wink: If my player wants to be a badass blaster, then I will give him so much crap to blast that if he screws up, the party is done. That tends to get the blood up a bit more than stacking stupid energy resistance on enemies just to neutralize PC power.

On the other hand, it is fine to shut down my entangle every so often, because gee whiz, maybe as a player, I get tired of spamming the same spell(s) all the time. Undead? Things I can’t charm? Bring them on!

Removing core abilities every so often means that I have to think a little bit, which I usually appreciate. Likewise, as a GM, occasionally I am going to paralyze/charm/etc the tank. If I did this all the time, my players would rightfully get irritated, especially said tank. But doing it some of the time keeps them thinking and it keeps the encounters varied. Last session, our GM gave me a golem to chew on. That was hella tough for a beguiler. But doing that all the time would be incredibly tedious for all parties involved.

I hate to be snobbish, but if a GM’s abilities are limited to running pure tank & spank encounters, well, I prefer to devote my time elsewhere.

Heck, I had a player who was a chemistry professor. His character had 18 wisdom so I said he could try to apply any known science that existed in the real world prior to the year 1300.

He charmed a bair and build a harness for it that had a compressed-air-powered rock launcher and flamethrower. I thought it was hilarious. Never really did turn the tide in battle, though. I think his write up for “Tim the Bear” might still be on the bulletin board in the university games club. I’ll see if I can find it.

Man, this thread makes me miss D&D. I gotta jump in on a game this weekend.

Once I was in a party of humans that decided to negotiate a short passage that was clearly designed for kobolds. Unfortunately we got attacked just before we got to the end.
The Fighter at the front, bashing away, called for the Cleric to heal him. Sadly one of the intervening characters was a 5’ 4" character weighing 205lbs, so the DM ruled there was no possible passing. :eek:

The first time one of my mates ran a dungeon (it was about the third time any of us had played), he prepared a dungeon complex with about 50% occupancy. Sadly in several hours, we failed to open any doors to rooms with inhabitants (and his inexperience meant he didn’t move any monsters around). :o

P.S. I like your illusionist’s imagination - shame the DM didn’t let him do anything…

Heh. Reminds me of the time my companions and I helped out a city besieged by an army equipped with giant iron and steel automatons - by using my ranger knowledge and the wizard’s spells to teleport where there would be some rust monsters, wrangle them, brought them back to the battle, dumped buff spells on them, and let them loose.

Oh ye gods. My DM mapped a dungeon based on the Paris catacombs, I think it was. Lots of tunnels that went nowhere, random alcoves, random rooms: big, big map. With four encounters in it. We managed to explore every last nook and cranny of the place over the course of two sessions before we finally found the plot-moving encounter. We extracted a vow out of him never to do that again. :stuck_out_tongue: