Solutions are for Players
If you've found yourself writing "If the party..." you're probably heading down a dark and treacherous path.
I have had a lot of conversations recently with GMs of different experience levels about what I’ve gotten prepped for my own upcoming games. I love to talk about the hobby, and about philosophies and principles just as much as after-action reports and story ideas. One thing that tends to trip up GMs with less experience is that I don’t actually think, almost at all, about what the solution to my different scenarios are.
For many of you reading, coming from the OSR/NSR space, this will seem obvious - but even for those of you who know better, seeing some examples may be beneficial.
Erase the word “If” from your prep
“If the party” is the first sign of a poorly written adventure. These are not Choose Your Own Adventure novels that allow from a fixed selection of options. These are tabletop scenarios, and that is something else altogether.
You’ve probably cracked open a 5e module written by Wizards of the Coast at some point, and you’ll find those modules are filled to the brim with “If the party” statements. This is one of the primary, fundamental flaws with everything written by that organization. Not only do they fail to understand what’s so wonderful about the tabletop hobby, they encourage limited thinking and wasted prep for beginner (and even experienced!) GMs who think this must be the model of well written adventures.
Crack open an indie OSR module, and you’ll probably find the extreme opposite condition. Tersely worded, brief to the point of absurdity, minimalism that even I find off-putting. But there’s wisdom in that minimalism. It’s the wisdom of not ruining the moment. It’s the wisdom of letting your players be more fun than you. It’s the wisdom of not wasting your time.
Here are a handful of scenarios, and a few things that one might take away from them.
Scenario
A castle is shrouded in fog in the distance, surrounded by a moat of steaming water. The water is hot, and sulfuric, and anything thrown into it burns quickly and complete. Bleached white bones litter the shore - not all of those bones belong to small animals.
Don’t
“If the party tries to build a boat over the water, it will get 2d6 meters closer to the castle before falling apart. If the party tries to fly over the water, harpies from the banks will attack them while they are vulnerable. If the party…”
Every time you write down one of these “If the party” clauses, you presuppose the ways these things are to be interacted with. Each one makes the scenario more rigid, more inflexible, less fantastic. Frankly, even if you spent considerable time laying out a dozen or two clauses, you’re only going to scratch at the surface of potential solutions, and all those that you generate will be biased in favor of solutions you like.
Your players outnumber you, and their creative and collaborative minds will put your one GM mind to shame, but only if you let them.
Do
React to your players plans before they undertake them. Remember, they can’t physically touch the water and tell it’s way too hot to float across in a boat, so when they propose that solution to you, tell them that they don’t imagine a boat made of normal wood could make it all the way across. If you wait until they are already in the boat and half-way there before springing the trap card on them, it will feel like a gotcha moment and will be deeply dissatisfying. The characters would have been able to see that a boat would never make it, but the players only have some part of that idea.
Scenario
Trapped in the back room of an acerbic tailor’s haberdashery is the half-alive stumbling zombie of the tailor’s assistant and friend. With sewing needles for fingers, buttons for eyes, and patches of skin replaced with beautiful silks, it claws blindly at walls and doors. Underneath the desk in that room is a lockbox containing a handful of large sapphires.
Don’t
“Releasing the zombie makes him attack the tailor in a fit of rage. Should the players get close enough, make a dexterity saving throw to avoid the zombie’s flailing needlefingers. The zombie will crumple into permanent unlife if the perfect square of silk is ripped away from its back.”
These are just “if the party” statements in disguise. The original description should inform you as the GM what unfolds - given one of the infinite possible plans your party comes up with. Maybe releasing the zombie is the one that most players take, but there are so many variations even on that plan - do they let it out and try to hide? Let it out and try to tackle it and grab the lockbox? Let it out and lure the tailor into the room?
Do
Let the fundamental facts of the situation guide your improvised results. If you are reading a situation in an adventure module and don’t understand those fundamental facts, fill them in just until you understand it, but don’t go further and start to elaborate on outcomes.
Your players may come up with a totally unique solution to this situation that isn’t even derived from your fundamental facts. For instance, if I put myself in my player-mind, maybe I’d try to cocoon the zombie in a bolt of silk from the tailor’s shop, wrapping it up like a hay bale to constrain it. Or, try to get it to stick its needle-fingers into a wooden board, rendering its primary method of removing my blood and organs ineffective while my party member grabs the valuables.
When your players do this, it’ll likely come totally out of left field - I have nothing in my notes about whether or not this zombie is smart enough to pull its needle fingers out of a shield, or if its strong enough to bust out of a silk wrapping. The number one mistake I see GMs make is saying “no, that won’t work” simply because it’s not in their list of codified solutions. This is your chance to make your players feel special. They came up with an idea that has no good reason not to work - reward them for it!
Four-to-Six Brains are Better than One
In your next games, try to focus on this idea of leaving solutions to the players. If you catch yourself, even in the middle of your session, trying to come up with solutions, hit the brakes and listen. When someone comes up with the shred of an idea that sounds like fun, let them dig into it. And if they truly seem stuck, take one of the half-ideas that they’ve discussed, and give them a reason to go for it - a well-placed item or description might be all they need to take half an idea and take the risk.
Excellent advice. I truly enjoy when GMs lean into my out of the box thinking for solutions to puzzling scenarios. Plus it’s a rewarding feeling when they work. I will be doing by best to implement this mentally in a session this week.
I would say that the author here is plainly not a pedant.
I unfortunately am. As proof, I am pretty sure that any prep I do has at least an implied, if not actual, "If the party ...".
"If the party opens this door in the dungeon ..."
"If the party continues along the road they are on ..."
"If the party seeks further information about ..."
"If the party journeys to the next village (as they said they would, but do change their minds from session to session) ...
So, as written, this advice to a pedant would pretty much mean: avoid all prep.
So, the issue for me is not to avoid "If the party ..." all together, but rather is at what scale do we stop considering further branches. This question has (obviously) not been explicitly addressed, but the suggestion seems to be "once you have outlined a scenario, challenge or problem to be overcome."
I would appreciate your thoughts, both on whether you agree with my analysis, and also on what defines the point at which you stop branching in your prep.