HOW TO

GAMEMASTER
DIRECTOR’S CUT

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Copyright 2016-2022 Berin Kinsman.

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CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION..................................................1
What is Tabletop Roleplaying?..............................................................2
BEING THE GAMEMASTER..............................6
Gamemastering Style................................................................................ 7
The Scope of Your Games......................................................................10
Game Group Size...................................................................................... 12
WHAT YOU NEED TO PLAY............................14
UNDERSTANDING PLAYERS.........................19
Fun-Loving Players.................................................................................. 19
Imaginative Players................................................................................. 20
Problem-Solving Players.......................................................................21
Tactical Players......................................................................................... 22
PREPARATION...................................................23
Must-Have................................................................................................... 24
Should Have............................................................................................... 27
Could Have.................................................................................................. 29
Won’t Have.................................................................................................. 30
Winging It................................................................................................... 32
SESSION ZERO..................................................36
Introductions and Icebreakers...........................................................36
Setting Expectations............................................................................... 37
Safety Tools................................................................................................ 45
RUNNING A GAME SESSION.........................47
Starting the Session................................................................................ 47
Telling the Story....................................................................................... 49
Pacing the Session...................................................................................50
Running Scenes......................................................................................... 52
Applying the Rules................................................................................... 58
Rewarding the Players...........................................................................61
Ending the Session..................................................................................62
BEING HUMAN..................................................64
Applying the Rules................................................................................... 64
Making Mistakes....................................................................................... 66
Dealing with Problem Players............................................................69
Handling Character Death....................................................................72
TEACHING NEW PLAYERS............................74
What the Game is About........................................................................74
How the Core Mechanic Works..........................................................76
What You Can Do in the Game............................................................77
How to Read a Character Sheet..........................................................78
GLOSSARY..........................................................81
INTRODUCTION
My first experience with tabletop roleplaying games was as
the gamemaster. The year was 1979, and my friends and I had
pooled our money to buy the Dungeons & Dragons Basic Set.
None of us had ever played before. There was no one else to
run for us or teach us how things were supposed to work. I
read the rules and made up some characters, but I had no idea
what I was supposed to do. After picking some monsters that
looked cool to fight and drawing a rudimentary map, I made it
up as I went along. The game was a lot of fun, but it took a
while before I felt like I knew what I was doing.
The Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters Guide
was available, and that was the first roleplaying book I ever
bought for myself. While packed with information, it didn’t
show me how to run the game. Most of my friends loved
playing, so they were patient with me as I stumbled along and
figured things out. A few quit because my stilted, faltering style
as a baby gamemaster understandably put them off. They
blamed the complexity of the system rather than my lack of
experience, but I knew the truth. I just wasn’t particularly good
at running games early on.
My friends and I persevered and always managed to have
fun despite my clumsiness. Years passed before I honestly
thought I was any good. When I got the chance to be a player in
other groups, I was finally able to pick the brains of other
gamemasters and witness how they did things. As I began to
experience more games, I learned more about running games
effectively.
At this point, I’ve been running tabletop roleplaying games
for decades. I’ve run long campaigns using several systems.

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There have been dozens of one-shots, run only to try out
different games. My experience encompasses a range of styles,
game design philosophies, and approaches to what roleplaying
is or could be.
If I’d had a book to show me what to do, I wouldn’t have
spent so much time figuring things out on my own. I could have
been sharpening other skills rather than sorting out the
fundamentals. That’s why I wrote this system-neutral How to
Gamemaster. I wanted to create the how-to manual I wish I’d
had over 40 years ago.
Experienced gamemasters might find this basic to which I
say: exactly. You’ll still find helpful tips, bits of wisdom, or
reminders of why you do things a particular way. New
gamemasters, welcome. I wrote this for you. I’m hoping to
spare you some of the awkwardness and discomfort I’ve
suffered over the decades. No matter what system, setting, or
genre you want to run, the information here should help you
with the fundamentals of running a game.

What is Tabletop Roleplaying?

If you are reading this, I suspect you do not need me to tell
you what a tabletop roleplaying game is. You have already
played Dungeons & Dragons, Cyberpunk RED, Warhammer
Fantasy Roleplay, RIFTS, Vampire: The Masquerade, 13th Age,
Blades in the Dark, Runequest, or any of the hundreds of indie
games available in the world. You may have become interested
because there is an officially licensed game based on a world
you are already familiar with: Star Trek, Star Wars, Doctor Who,
Judge Dredd, Conan, The Expanse, A Song of Ice and Fire, and so
many, many more. What you want to know is how to run a
tabletop roleplaying game.

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 Just so all of us are on the same page, though, allow me to
explain what I mean when talking about tabletop roleplaying
games. Tabletop is a roleplaying game that uses pencils, paper,
rulebooks, and dice. It is not something you play on a computer,
a console, or a mobile device. Maybe you play online via Zoom,
Skype, or a virtual tabletop, but what you are doing is still
based on rules found in a book or document.
Roleplaying means you are playing a character. You are not
moving a piece around a board. You are pretending to be
another person, making decisions for them, and determining
what actions they will take in response to situations arising in
play. Roleplaying is a bit of acting and improv mixed with a
healthy dose of storytelling.
I avoid using the word game to describe tabletop
roleplaying. While a shared activity, there is no competition
with winners and losers. The players need to cooperate. The
relationship between the gamemaster and the players isn’t
necessarily adversarial. It’s a form of play, as in something done
for enjoyment. You could also consider it play in the context of
acting or performing. The way to win is to achieve adventure
goals, express your creativity, and have fun.
As with my feelings about the word game, I am not keen on
the term rules either. Rules ensure everyone is playing fair, so
there is no dispute over who won a competition. The term also
creates a perception that the rules are the game, in the way a
Monopoly board and its pieces constitute a game. They are not.
The rules of football are not a football game. Players need to be
on the field for that. Without players, all you have is a book.
I prefer calling the mechanics of tabletop roleplaying
systems. They are an established way of doing things. You need
to know what a character can do and how well they do it. There

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has to be a method of determining success and sometimes
degrees of success. It’s helpful to provide structure and
guidance. But in action, the rules may be the least important
part. Even though this book is system-agnostic, meaning it
applies to almost any game you run, how I think about “rules”
does color the advice I give herein.
This book includes:
Being the Gamemaster: Everything you need to know
about your job as the gamemaster, the roles of players,
organizing your game group, and handling the most common
out-of-character situations.
What You Need to Play: Materials required to run a
tabletop roleplaying game. Optional items and props to
enhance the experience if you choose to use them.
Understanding Players: A look at different types of
players and what they are looking for in a tabletop roleplaying
game. This chapter covers things groups contribute and
challenges they can present.
Preparation: Gamemasters can spend a lot of time
preparing to run a game. This section covers what is essential
to do, what is nice to have, and how to make things up on the
fly.
Session Zero: The first session of the game, where the
players get to know each other. This session is where you set
expectations, ensure everyone is comfortable, and lay essential
groundwork.
Running a Game Session: From preparing an adventure to
handling unforeseen problems that arise during play,
everything you need to know to gamemaster any tabletop
roleplaying game.

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 Being Human: Everyone makes mistakes. This section
covers how to fail fast and fail forward, correct bad rulings, deal
with problem players, and just let yourself be an imperfect
human being.
Teaching New Players: A significant part of the
gamemaster’s job is educating new players about the game
system. It extends to the setting and the rules and boundaries
established within the group.
Glossary: This section presents a selection of the most
commonly used words and phrases found in tabletop
roleplaying games. Most games utilize some variation of these
terms and concepts.

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BEING THE GAMEMASTER
Tabletop roleplaying should be fun. Your role as the
gamemaster is to ensure that all players have a chance to
participate and enjoy themselves. View everything you are
called upon to do while running a game through that lens. All of
the planning you do, every ruling you make, each interaction
you have with a player has to focus on creating an enjoyable
experience for everyone present at the table.
Your role begins with creating a spirit of cooperation. Set up
a scenario and provide the players with a goal. Help them work
together to achieve the objective. Give them what they need in
terms of information and guidance, then get out of their way.
Let them make their own decisions on how they think they can
achieve the goal, contribute their ideas, and allow their
imaginations to run wild.
During an adventure, you will play the roles of the villains
and monsters intent on preventing the player characters from
reaching their goals. That does not mean you are competing
against them. A good gamemaster uses what is sometimes, and
wrongly, perceived as an adversarial role to provide the players
with a common enemy. That role is part of how they will learn
to work together.
Being the gamemaster also means being the de facto leader
of the group. You will need to enforce the rules, not just the
mechanics of the game but the agreed-upon codes of conduct.
This role can be a tough one for an established group of friends.
It does not mean you need to be heavy-handed and assume a
parental role. It can require you to resolve disputes, address
inappropriate behavior, and redirect focus back to the game.

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 In this chapter, we will discuss the basics of being a
gamemaster. That begins with understanding the group.
Individual players will have different needs, each gamemaster
will have their style, and every group will develop a unique
dynamic over time. To successfully run a tabletop roleplaying
game, you need to understand what makes the people in your
group tick. This role is as important as knowing the intricacies
of the rules and the world.

Gamemastering Style
There is no single right way to run a tabletop roleplaying
game. It is okay to have personal preferences, of course. Some
techniques will work better for you than others. That does not
mean that people who do things differently are wrong. Your
gamemastering style should combine your tastes and
capabilities with what your players want from a tabletop
roleplaying experience. Those will vary from person to person
and group to group.
Below are a few things to consider when determining your
gamemastering style.
Good versus Evil: Do you expect the player characters to
be heroes, following strict moral, ethical, and legal codes? Or
will you allow things to be more naturalistic, where people are
complicated and conflicted, and issues are rarely black-and-
white? What sorts of things are considered evil, and how
graphically will you portray them? In many games, the
interplay between good and evil is a dominant thematic
element. The group needs to decide what the standards will be.
Everyone must be comfortable with them. This consideration
has to add to the fun, not detract from it.

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 Comedy versus Drama: This consideration is not an
either/or choice but a spectrum. Do you want the game to be
more gritty, serious, and intense? Are you more likely to be
lighthearted, silly, and cinematic? You can do mostly drama
with occasional bits of comic relief to break the tension, just as
you can keep a lighter tone with periodic earnest and solemn
moments. The key is to figure out the mix that works for you
and your group.
Combat versus Problem-Solving: For many tabletop
roleplaying games, combat is the default mode. Some
gamemasters like to break this up with other sorts of
challenges, like evading traps, working out puzzles, and solving
mysteries. Other games are geared more toward social
interactions, character development, and the creation of
engaging storylines. Your preferences will influence how you
run the game.
Imaginative versus Realistic: Will you try to be more
realistic, presenting things in line with historical accuracy and
how the world works? Or will you let flights of fancy and
creative imagination drive things? Research can create more
work for you as the gamemaster. On the other hand, so can
thinking up wholly original ideas. Your approach to realism can
be a matter of immersion for the players. It determines
whether they can suspend their disbelief or require a setting
rooted in logic, physics, and real-world precedents.
Thematic versus Organic: Are you going to have a theme?
Or will you allow the campaign to find its level, discovering
ideas as they come up and exploring them through play?
Having an underlying theme gives you and your players
something to anchor your creative ideas and make preparation

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easier. It can also limit the directions that characters,
worldbuilding, and stories can develop.
Expressing Your Style: You do not need to nail down your
style right away. It is good to know how you lean on various
preferences. Figuring this out might take a while, and some
trial-and-error, until you are comfortable. As you figure out
your gamemastering style, incorporate those elements into
other aspects of the job.
Setting Clear Expectations: Setting clear expectations for
your players means letting them know upfront what your
gamemastering style is. They will better understand the sort of
adventures you plan to run, which will allow them to create
characters that are appropriate to the tone and theme.
Working with the Setting: Working with what the world
already supports is the gamemastering equivalent of going
with the flow. Running a lighthearted game using a setting that
leans toward the grim and gritty adds to your prep work. You
are also creating conditions for failure.
Rewarding Cooperation: Reward cooperation means
giving your players an incentive to work with your
gamemastering style. They create characters that suit your
preferences and play them in a way that supports the tone and
theme of your game.
Applying the Rules: How you apply the rules will help to
reinforce your style. If you want to emphasize combat, make
other tasks easy (to get them over with) or highly difficult (to
discourage players from doing them). You can use plot hooks
that arise from the things you want to emphasize, like
humorous results or social interactions, and ignore story ideas
that stem from outcomes that do not suit your style.

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The Scope of Your Games
Another decision you need to make involves the breadth
and depth of the games you would like to run. This choice
comes down to two things: how much preparation you can put
in and how long you would like it to go on. Over time you can
run different games with different sizes, so you do not decide
on something you must stick to forever. What is important is
that you understand the scope before you set out to run it.
One-Shots: A one-shot is a short adventure completed in a
single session. These are the games you find at conventions and
game store demonstrations. Most last around 4 hours, enough
to give you a taste of how the rules work, what the world is like,
and what characters can do. A good one-shot often has pre-
generated characters that the players can choose from, so no
time is wasted on character creation. Everyone can jump right
into the action.
The advantage of running a one-shot is that you can test out
a new game and see if you like it. Players get that same
opportunity. If you are running at an event, you can meet new
players. You can even run a single one-shot multiple times.
Each time you will have a different group with unique
outcomes and experiences.
Sometimes running a different game can give you a fresh
perspective on your home game, allowing you to bring new
concepts and ideas back to your regular players. You can even
run a one-shot with your home group when some players
cannot attend, but you still want to get together and play. I had
a group once where we only played one-shots, testing out all of
the games we wanted to try.
The downside to running one-shots can be an ongoing lack
of familiarity. You may not know the rules well the first time

10
out. If you are running it at an event, you might not know the
players. A one-shot can be awkward at first, but players tend to
figure things out and have a good time.
Episodic Games: Episodic games are serial, stand-alone
adventures. There is continuity in that the player characters
advance, but stories do not connect or build upon one another.
They are like an old television show, where this week’s episode
has nothing to do with what happened last week and won’t
impact what characters do next week.
The advantage of an episodic game is that you don’t have to
worry as much about continuity. As long as each adventure is
internally consistent, you can focus on how the stories fit
together into a larger narrative later on. Keep important
names, timelines, and other details straight. Episodic games
also allow you to use published adventures, incorporate player
ideas, and make things up on the fly without disturbing a
larger, carefully-crafted story arc.
The downside of an episodic game is that it can feel
unimportant. There are no big stakes for the player characters,
no higher purpose or greater destiny they are pursuing. It can
even begin to feel repetitive. While each adventure might have
a goal, it’s not building toward something more.
Campaigns: A campaign is a series of adventures that fit
together into a larger story. There’s often a metaplot, one big
thing happening in the world. There might be a few stand-
alone stories, but for the most part, each adventure builds upon
the last one, moving toward some epic conclusion. Think of it
as a television series with a season-long or multi-season story
arc, each episode fitting into the larger overall story the show is
telling.

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 The advantage of a campaign is that it can feel epic. Things
matter. Each book, or movie or, season builds toward
something. This ongoing story keeps things exciting, and the
players tend to be more engaged. A detail they miss in one
session might have ramifications in a later session, so they’ll
pay closer attention to what’s going on.
The drawback of a campaign is that it puts pressure on you
to have a big payoff at the end. Think about the TV shows and
book series that fizzled out after a while. The gamemaster
needs to know where they’re going and keep up the
momentum. This long-term work can be hard and lead to
creative burnout if the gamemaster isn’t careful.

Game Group Size

One last decision you need to make is how many players
you think you can handle. Stay within your comfort level. Some
people can manage a large group right away; others won’t ever
adapt to the logistics of more than a couple of players. Many
people find small groups awkward because it makes the game
more intimate and personal. The kind of game you’re running,
your gamemastering style, and the rules and genre of the game
itself will influence how big a group might be. There’s no ideal
one-size-fits-all group size.
Average Groups: Most tabletop roleplaying games assume
you’re going to have 4 to 6 players. This number gives you
enough people to fill all character roles that published
adventures consider ideal. For me, it means there are enough
players to contribute to the story and action, taking some of the
burdens off of the gamemaster. Players can interact without
distracting from what’s happening in-game.

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 Small Groups: If you’re running a published adventure, a
small group will require the gamemaster to do some tweaking.
Some assumed character roles will be unfilled. It’s easier to run
your home-brewed scenario for a small group. There are fewer
characters and abilities to track. Everyone gets more spotlight
time. The downside is that the gamemaster carries a lot more
social interaction.
Large Groups: Running a large group also requires
adjustment to published adventures. Character roles might
double up, so players working together will have an easier time
than the adventure designer anticipated. Creating home-
brewed stories becomes more work. There are more variables
based on more people. Spotlight time per person goes down.
There’s also the matter of players having downtime. Even if
all of the characters are present in the scene, the odds of out-
of-game table talk increase as people wait their turn. Some
groups might split into smaller sub-groups, which means half
the players might engage in distracting behaviors. If there’s no
place to send the inactive portion of the group off to, like the
kitchen or living room, they’ll start to get bored.

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WHAT YOU NEED TO PLAY
Not every game requires the same tools and materials, but
the list below is typical for most tabletop roleplaying systems.
Your list will vary depending on the specific game your group is
playing.
Tabletop: Over the years, the term tabletop has become
metaphorical more than literal. The earliest roleplaying games
took place around a table because they sprang from wargames.
It was the easiest way to set up miniatures to represent
character positions during combat.
Not all roleplaying games today have a tactical component,
and there are a variety of virtual tabletop applications that
allow people to play online. You can gather together in the
living room, on the floor, or in front of a computer screen. So
what does tabletop mean these days? A place to gather. You
need somewhere for the group to meet. It does not matter
whether it is a physical space like a house, the back room of a
game store, or a videoconferencing channel.
Rules: You need at least one copy of the game system.
Depending on the complexity of the mechanics, it might be
handy for each player to have their own. More will make
character creation, referencing abilities during play, and
figuring out character advancement easier.
Games like Dungeons & Dragons have multiple hardcover
rulebooks that you can use to play. In recent years they have
addressed the problems of carrying a small library around by
developing an app. Other games have found a happy medium,
publishing all-in-one core rulebooks in a digest-sized format
that fits easily into your bag. I use my laptop to access PDFs,
websites, and my notes.

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 Dice: Ideally, every player should have a complete set of the
dice needed to play the game. Many gamemasters have a spare
set or two for new players, or in case a regular player forgot
theirs. Sharing dice is possible, but it can be inconvenient and
disruptive to pass them around the table from turn to turn.
Plus, many players are superstitious about letting other
people touch their dice. Never, ever touch dice without
permission. Not even if a die has accidentally fallen on the floor
and you are trying to be polite and helpful by picking it up.
Some people get weird and hostile about it. Just do not do it.
Paper, Pencils, Character Sheets: Even though I run most
games using my laptop, I remain fond of paper. It is easier to
hand someone a note, ask them to show you their character
sheet, or jot down ideas quickly. I played in a game once where
all of our characters were on an app, and having to keep
looking at my phone to check ability scores was distracting.
Pens are fine for keeping notes but use pencils for character
sheets. It is easier to make changes when a character acquires
equipment or a new ability. Computer-generated character
sheets are something I dislike for the same reason. I do not
want to print a whole new page every time I tweak something.
Most games have official character record sheets designed
to contain all statistics and information about your character.
These are always supposed to be one-size-fits-all solutions.
That rarely works. You end up with more space for one type of
ability and not enough for other information. The upside is that
the gamemaster knows where to find information on the sheet.
Many games have unofficial, fan-made sheets available.
These are often better than the official sheets because
frustrated players create them to meet their needs. These are

15
still not perfect. If you go this route, I suggest making all
players use the same sheet to make it easier to find things.
My preference as a player is to write things out on a sheet of
paper. I can take as much space as I need. I can organize
information so that it makes sense to me. As a gamemaster, I
will not police character sheets to see if players cheated during
character creation. If I need to know about a specific ability or
rating, I ask them and trust them to tell me the truth.
Snacks and Beverages: Because a typical tabletop
roleplaying session can go on for several hours, many groups
allow snacks and drinks at the table. Others do not due to the
risk of spills, especially at a crowded table. You only need one
drink to get knocked over, soaking rulebooks and character
sheets, to make that call.
Some groups meet up for a meal beforehand or go out to eat
together afterward. I know of at least one host that cooks for
everyone. Most of my groups schedule a break to give people
an opportunity to stretch their legs, go to the bathroom, and
have something to eat without disrupting the game.
Make some allowance for snacks. People need to eat. Some
people have medical needs that are not your business but
should be respected and taken seriously. Roleplaying involves a
lot of talking, and people get parched. Managing this should be
a group discussion, but it is not optional.
Gamemaster Screen (Optional): A screen is a
freestanding, multiple-panel accessory used to create space
between the players and the gamemaster. The gamemaster side
usually has charts, tables, and other information for quick
reference. The player-facing side might have similar
information but is usually art that reflects the setting and
genre. Most screens are cardstock, but some are vinyl or plastic

16
and have clear pockets that allow you to slide in papers with
your information.
Not every game has a screen. Many do not need one
because the rules do not require a lot of reference material.
Some gamemasters use them to hold adventure notes or
information about the setting. Others put up a screen to keep
players from peeking at their notes. Many gamemasters do not
like screens for various reasons and do not bother with them.
How you use one, if at all, is up to you.
Miniatures: Miniatures or minis are small-scale figures
representing the characters on a tabletop tactical display. They
are also fun to paint, so you and the other players know how
your character appears. Most are metal or plastic. There is a
wide range of printable digital miniatures available.
If using miniatures, you need a bare minimum of a battle
mat, figures representing the player characters, and something
to represent the antagonists. There are all kinds of battle mats,
from paper ones that roll up or fold to vinyl models that you
can write on with dry-erase markers. Some gamemasters also
construct terrain and scenery, including trees, hills, buildings,
and other things present in the scene.
Collecting and painting minis is a whole other secondary
hobby. It is a lot of fun to have a figure that looks like your
character. The gamemaster pulling a fully painted monster that
the characters have to fight is a blast.
Unless your game features tactical combat, though, minis
are not necessary. They are expensive, for one thing. It takes
time and skill to paint them well. If you want to use them, that
is fine. Be aware of your player budgets and talents, though.
Some people can’t afford them or might not be good at painting
them. Don’t embarrass someone accidentally.

17
 Handouts: Never underestimate the power of a good
handout. These range from rules cheat sheets that players can
keep for reference to illustrations and maps passed around as
needed. I have played with gamemasters that handed out a
newsletter-style page every session, recapping what had
happened up to that point in the game. Others have created
handouts to represent in-game scrolls, notes, and pages torn
from books.
Of course, the most basic handout is a note passed from the
gamemaster to a particular player, or vice-versa. Handouts are
an easy way to communicate when a character is researching
information. The player can read it while I attend to the rest of
the group. This method lets them choose how to share what
they learned, rather than everyone hearing what I told them.
Music, Lighting, and Decor: There are many ways to set
the mood for the game. Music is the most common, using a
carefully-curated soundtrack to create the atmosphere of the
setting and genre. I’ve used specific tracks to signal that the
game session is beginning, when we’re going on break, and
when the session has ended. Use other music for battles,
investigations, chase scenes, and just about any interaction.
I have known gamemasters that use lighting to set the
atmosphere for horror games. It rarely works. Yes, things are
spooky in the dark. It becomes annoying when you can’t see
your character sheet or can't find the die you dropped.
If you have a dedicated gaming space, decorating the area
can be a lot of fun. Putting up maps of the game world, posters
for movies in the same genre as the game, or even just some
artwork that captures your gamemastering style can help
people get into the right frame of mind to play.

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UNDERSTANDING PLAYERS
Every person comes to the table with a different set of
expectations. They’re all looking to get something out of the
game. It’s easy to say everyone plays to have fun. That’s a gross
oversimplification. Everyone has their definition of what’s fun
and what isn’t. You need to know what they mean, so you can
provide them with the kind of experience they’re seeking.
You also need to make sure the players understand you.
Explain your gamemastering style to them. Set clear
expectations as to what sorts of adventures you’ll be running.
Communicate the types of characters that will be appropriate
for the campaign. Let them know what you find fun and what
you dislike. This information will help all of you to collaborate
better and avoid a lot of problems that will inevitably arise.
I’ve broadly outlined four common types of players below:
Let me tell you upfront that this doesn’t cover everyone. Most
people are a combination of these, with one category
dominating their preferences and style of play. The intention of
the section isn’t to help you pigeonhole your players so that
you know how to interact with them. It’s to get you thinking
about what your specific players might want and need so you
can tailor your game to give those things to them.

Fun-Loving Players
Fun-loving players are there to enjoy themselves, but they
also want everyone to have a good time. They are open to
whatever happens in the game, willing to go along with twists
and turns of the story because they’re curious to see what
happens next. Most tend to stay in the moment. The more
immersive the game becomes, the more excited they get.

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A fun-loving player will approach roleplaying as
• an opportunity to socialize with other players;
• a chance to explore the game setting;
• a way to add their creative touches to the game;
• a performance where the players entertain each other.
A fun-loving player might
• bring a lot of energy to the table;
• ask a lot of questions, in-character and out-of-character;
• converse a lot with the other players;
• make sure to include all players.
A fun-loving player needs the gamemaster to
• provide opportunities to interact with other characters;
• offer chances to learn more about the game’s setting;
• collaborate and create connections between characters;
• allow them to entertain the other players.

Imaginative Players
Imaginative players are there to create something. They
want to develop their characters into fully-realized people with
personalities, emotions, tastes, and goals. An adventure is a
way to collaborate on a story, and they don’t care whether the
rules support what they think should happen next. While the
imaginative player will collaborate, they need others to hear
their ideas.
An imaginative player will approach roleplaying as
• an opportunity to express their creativity;
• a very personal and emotional experience;
• problems to be solved using their imagination;
An imaginative player might
• take a moment to think before they take action;

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 • stay quiet until they have something to contribute;
• have their vision of how things should develop;
• care more about telling a story than following the rules.
An imaginative player needs the gamemaster to
• give them opportunities to contribute creatively;
• be open to their ideas and suggestions;
• allow them to assist others with ideas and suggestions;
• introduce new ideas to explore through roleplaying.

Problem-Solving Players
Problem-solving players enjoy puzzles and mysteries. They
like the story aspects of tabletop roleplaying but need an
objective to accomplish. Having something to do gives them the
context for developing their character, building relationships
with other characters, and exploring worldbuilding.
A problem-solving player approaches roleplaying as
• a chance to engage their intellect and skills;
• a directed way to put their creative imagination to use;
• a way to show off their reasoning.
A problem-solving player might
• take a careful, methodical approach to everything;
• see every character interaction as potentially useful;
• over-analyze every situation;
• interpret things based on rules as intended.
A problem-solving player needs the gamemaster to
• provide clear story-based rules and objectives;
• give them problems to be solved, obviously;
• allow them time to compose a plan of action;
• remind them that other players get to contribute ideas.

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Tactical Players
Tactical players focus on the rules and seek ways to win the
game. They may speak in the third person (“my character does
this”) and treat their character as a token in a board game or
avatar in a video game. It’s not that they’re incapable of playing
in-character or that they don’t enjoy it. That’s not what they
find most compelling.
A tactical player will approach roleplaying as
• a traditional game with winners and losers;
• a way to display their understanding of the rules;
• a set of objectives they need to accomplish.
A tactical player might
• favor tactical calculations over roleplaying in-character;
• seek ways to optimize their character’s abilities;
• become impatient with story-focused players;
• be incredibly detail-oriented about rules-as-written;
• cite the rules a lot.
A tactical player needs the gamemaster to
• give them clear objectives grounded in the rules;
• provide opportunities to improve character abilities;
• reward them for decisive action;
• keep the game moving forward without too much talk.

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PREPARATION
Running a game takes preparation. You need to have an idea
for an adventure. Then you need to be sure you have all of the
allies, monsters, villains, and other supporting characters that
the player characters will encounter along the way. If you’re
using props, you might need to draw maps and find the best
miniatures to use. When you’re using a published adventure,
you need to read it to know what’s coming; you shouldn’t be
just as surprised as the players when something happens. In all
cases, you need to understand the rules that will come into play
during a session, including how any items, gadgets, or abilities
work.
A lot of gamemasters stress themselves out trying to plan
an entire campaign. It’s an admirable goal, but there are flaws
in this approach. First, it’s a lot of work. Second, things
inevitably change during play. Unless you railroad the players
into a specific course of action, adventures will evolve as player
decisions take things to places you never imagined. They are,
after all, your collaborators in this creative venture. That’s not
to say that you can’t keep notes about things you want to do
throughout a long-running game. I’ve just found it less stressful
to plan one session at a time.
Think about the things you want to include in the upcoming
session. Brainstorm to your heart’s content, and write down
every idea you have. Then sort each item into one of the
following four categories. As you prepare for the next session,
start with the things you must have. If you don’t have a great
deal of time, you’ll at least have some basics. Work your way
down the list to things you should have and would have until
you run out of time.

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Must-Have
When you have limited time to prepare for a game session,
focus on what you need most. Then you’ll understand what you
have to know and create. For me, this comes down to 3 key
elements:
Session Goal
The session goal is the one thing you want the players to
accomplish. This event happens in the last scene you’ll run
during the adventure. If it isn’t the end, have it occur at a logical
stopping point. The encounter could be a battle, a puzzle, or a
startling discovery. You want it to be the high point of the
session, the thing the players will remember.
Obstacles
To determine what the characters will need to overcome,
work backward. What do the player characters have to do to
get to where they need to be? The obstacle might be fighting
monsters, avoiding traps, or gathering clues. It should build
suspense and draw the players in, getting them excited to
achieve the goal.
Spotlight Time
Once you have the session goal and obstacles figured out,
you can decide where to give each player character some
spotlight time. Provide opportunities for them to use their best
abilities. Work in some details that connect to their personal
goals or backstories.
Creating Your Own Adventure
When creating your own adventure, it’s easier to work out
what “must-have” pieces you’ll need. You know how long the

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session needs to last. From there, you can figure out how many
scenes or encounters you’ll need to fill the time.
There’s no quick-and-easy formula for this, unfortunately. It
depends on how complex the game’s rules are. Account for
variables like how chatty your players tend to be. If they meet
some interesting non-player characters and want to roleplay,
they’re going to take up more of the session than players who
are direct and to the point. A fight scene in a game that
embraces detailed tactical combat will take longer than one
that uses “lite” abstract rules to resolve conflicts.
After you’ve been a gamemaster for a while, you’ll have a
feel for this. You’ll develop tricks for speeding up the pace of
the session and slowing it down. The best advice that I can
offer is to have a couple of non-essential scenes prepared.
They’re fun encounters that don’t do much to advance the
story, but they fill up some time. If the session is going by
quickly, and the player characters are at risk of achieving the
session goal too early, stick in one of these filler scenes. When
things are going slowly, and you don’t know if the player
characters will make it to the final encounter, pull one of the
filler scenes out. You can always rework them and use them in
another session.
Using a Published Adventure
Determining the “must-have” elements for a published
adventure is trickier. Typically these are written so the player
characters have multiple options and can go off in different
directions. That means, ideally, that you should read through
and prepare the entire adventure ahead of time and be ready
for everything. That’s a lot of work and can require more time
than you have available.

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 Fortunately, a lot of published adventures break this into
sections. Pick the logical portion you want to use for the next
session. Read through and prepare that. Know where you want
to end, familiarize yourself with the antagonists and non-player
characters, and be sure you understand the rules that will
come into play.
If it seems like it will go on too long, find scenes and
encounters that you can cut as needed. If they don’t advance
the plot, give the player characters essential information, or
provide tools and equipment they will need later, you can cut it.
Revisit this if you have time to prepare things you “should
have.”
There are three things that you will need to tweak. The first
is the spotlight moments for your player characters. Published
adventures are generic, to be used by any characters. Feel
empowered to change details to make things fit with the
backgrounds and personal goals of the player characters in
your game. You may need to add a scene or encounter of your
own. Keep with the tone and themes of the published
adventure to accomplish this.
Second, published adventures assume a specific mix of
abilities will exist within your party. This variety may not exist
in your group. You might not have a fighter, a thief, a healer, and
so on. Your players might all have wanted to be cyberdeck
cowboys, starship science officers, or vigilante detectives. That
means you’ll need to change things so that the challenges suit
their abilities; more monsters and fewer traps, or maybe the
other way around. You can insert non-player characters,
gadgets, magic items, and information. Those can help get them
past obstacles for which they are not suited.

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 Finally, you will need to edit out opportunities for the
player characters to go beyond what you’ve prepared. This
approach isn’t railroading them. It’s taking the possible side-
quest out of an early scene and placing it at the end. It could be
turning the door to the next dungeon level into a hidden door
that they can’t find or have the key to that door located during
the session’s final scene. It may simply be telling the players, “I
haven’t prepared for that, so we will do that next session,” and
asking them to carry on.

Should Have
After you’ve prepared everything you must-have for your
session, you can move on to the things that would be nice to
have. Add scenes that explain the plot in more detail, making
the adventure goal feel more urgent. This approach often
comes down to adding to what already exists. A non-player
character could be more challenging, requiring something from
the player characters rather than just giving them some
information. Add connecting scenes so that the characters
don’t just leave one location and are miraculously at another a
moment later.
I’ve found that the best use of additional prep time is to
spend it on the player characters. Find ways to add more
spotlight moments for them. Mix in some subplots regarding
their goals and ambitions. Connect the details of this adventure
to their backstories, to the world, and previous stories so it
feels more immersive. Stick in recurring non-player characters
to further tie things together and create a sense of continuity.
Creating Your Own Adventure
When creating my own adventures, I put extra work into
non-player characters when I have the time. Statistics and

27
abilities are a “must-have,” but their backgrounds, appearances,
and mannerisms are “should have” treats. I flesh out their
connections to one another and sometimes to the player
characters. The more I can understand, or assign, motivations
to their actions, the better I’m able to play them. It adds a lot to
the game. It also gets me more excited to run because I become
invested in playing these roles to entertain the group.
The same goes for worldbuilding details. I spend some time
thinking about past adventures that might impact this one. Are
there causal connections between events? Did something in a
previous session cause the things that are happening now?
How will the outcome of this session affect the characters and
the world in the long term? Those ideas can lead to some extra
details and foreshadowing.
Using a Published Adventure
When I run a published adventure, I use “should have” time
in 3 ways. First, I flesh out the non-player characters and
adversaries as stated above. I also look for character
connections and worldbuilding opportunities that can make
my game world fit together better.
Next, I start prepping ahead for the following session. Not
the whole thing, but I look over what I’m likely going to run
next. I seek ways to foreshadow what will happen later, little
hints and clues that can make the overall adventure riveting. It
makes things flow together better from session to session and
make the game feel more cohesive over time.
Finally, I look for any other personal touches I can make. If a
scene would benefit from a map, I’ll draw one. When I think the
players might get a better idea of what something looks like if I
had a photo or illustration, I find one. Sometimes the mood of a

28
specific scene or encounter suggests a song or soundtrack, and
I’ll get that ready to use.

Could Have
What your session could have is pretty much unlimited. If
you had all of the time in the world to prepare, what would you
do? Create a custom playlist? Find and paint miniatures for
every monster? Draw illustrations of all the major non-player
characters? Work on distinct voices and accents for each role
you’ll have to play? It’s a matter of what you’re willing to do
and what you think your players will enjoy.
There’s a downside to this, and it has to do with
consistency. The difference between “must-have” and “should
have” is a matter of extra detail. If you don’t have time for non-
essentials, players won’t notice. All sessions are fun, but some
are a little more special. If you can’t deliver consistently on
“could have,” though, it can throw the rhythm off. One session
will be bare-bones, the next extravagant. The players may
expect grandiosity every time. They might feel disappointed if
one week you only had time for “must-have” planning.
I recommend putting “could have” planning into Very
Special Episodes. A pivotal session in the campaign, where you
reveal a dramatic plot point or something happens that
changes everything. Perhaps in the final session of a long
adventure, with characters facing off against the bad guy and
saving the world. If you can’t do it consistently, use this sort of
prep where it will have the most impact.
Creating Your Own Adventure
What the adventure you create needs should be subject to
some restrictions. There is such a thing as going too far. If you

29
add too much, layering in every idea you come up with, you will
find the session hard to run.
Go back to “must-have” and work from there. If you’re
starting to add in things that don’t relate directly to the session
goal, the obstacles to that goal, and spotlight opportunities for
the player characters, you need to edit. Think about whether it
fits with the story, the characters, and the setting.
It might be cool to have a whole army of miniatures, a full-
color topographical map, and all of the bells and whistles you’d
ever want. Do those things add value to the session, though, or
do they become a distraction? Just because you could have it
doesn’t mean you should.
Using a Published Adventure
A published adventure automatically introduces some
boundaries. What you choose to add to it has to honor the
scenario as written. If you need to rewrite large swaths of the
plot to shoe-horn in all of the glorious possibilities you’ve
thought of, you may as well have started from scratch. With
unlimited prep time, why not?
As with adventures you create, you can reach a point where
more is simply more, not better. Make sure that the things you
add make it easier for you to run the game. If a soundtrack
helps you establish a mood, use it. When a map is necessary,
show it. Having these extra features for no purpose causes
distractions, slows down the game, and ultimately clutters
things up.

Won’t Have
This category is entirely optional, but you should use it as a
reality check. If you find yourself adding too much to your
preparation, make a list of things that will not appear in the

30
next session. It might be an encounter that doesn’t happen
until much later in the adventure. It could be a great idea you
just saw on a TV show that you’re dying to convert. Something
a player requested that you’d like to add, but you haven’t
worked out how (or if) it fits just yet, can be excluded.
I need a “won’t have” list when planning a session. There
are always things that will happen later that I’m dying to work
on now. I have to tell myself no, and force myself to prioritize
what I need to have ready for the next session.
Using a Published Adventure
When using a published adventure, you might need to cut
some things that don’t fit. An event in the story could
contradict the history of your world. It may suggest options
that you don’t want to explore, at least not in this session. It
may negate or complicate a character’s back story. You don’t
like an encounter. Your session won’t have those things, so,
therefore, you won’t need to prep them.
Creating Your Own Adventure
As stated earlier, it’s easy to want to jump the gun and work
on the cool stuff. Stick to the things you must have, should have,
and possibly have. Don’t allow “concept drift” to set in, where
new ideas threaten to derail your original concept.
Invoke the three original “must-have” elements, phrased as
questions this time.
• Does it involve the goal of the session?
• Does it provide obstacles to reaching the goal?
• Does it create spotlight time for a player
character?
If the answer is no, it should go on the “won’t have” list. The
idea might be fun, but if it’s not adding value to the session, it’s

31
a waste of your prep time. Use it in a later session or a future
adventure.

Winging It
Sometimes you have no time to get ready for your game.
You can cancel the session if you’re able to get ahold of
everyone in time. Playing a board game is the go-to for many
groups when people still want to get together and socialize.
Groups might watch a movie or just hang out and chat.
It’s also possible to play anyway, with no preparation. You
can wing it. Make up an adventure as you go along. There are a
few tools you’ll need to have handy, but they’re all things that
can be useful when what you have planned goes off the rails,
too. Think of these as “could have” prep items you can gather
together over time for use as needed.
Plot Hooks
A plot hook is a sentence or short paragraph that describes
a situation. It usually doesn’t tell you much other than what the
player characters need to do. That’s okay because a plot hook is
only a starting point. It’s enough of a foundation to build on,
and you can do so reasonably quickly.
Examples of Common Plot Hooks:
• The party gets hired to steal something.
• Bad guys show up and randomly start a fight.
• The party agrees to take something to a location.
• The journey to the hidden place is dangerous.
• The party is arrested and has to escape.
• The party has to rescue someone.
• Someone hires the party to guard a place.
• The party encounters a storm and has to find
shelter.

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 • Blackmailers know what the party did last
adventure.
• Someone accuses the party of a crime.
There are books and websites filled with plot hooks. Some
are simple, as the examples above. Others are detailed and
geared toward specific games, genres, or settings. Make of list
of a few interesting ones, and keep them handy. When you need
to wing it, adds some names, locations, a MacGuffin or two, and
some pre-generated characters.
Stock Sets
Put together some locations that would be common in your
setting. Town squares, parks, malls, and museums are a must.
Make shops, bars, restaurants, and nightclubs. Have residential
spaces including homes, apartment buildings, and maybe a
mansion. If you’re dealing with science fiction, create starships
and space stations. For a superhero game, put together a
villain’s lair, a mad scientist’s laboratory, or a bank. Fantasy and
horror will get use from caves, caverns, and ancient temples.
You don’t have to collect a ton of each type. Gather what you
think you might need. Find multiples of the location types you
will use frequently.
For each set, figure out a few characters that will be there.
Who owns the place? Who lives or works there, and what
specifically do they do? Who hangs out there, and why?
MacGuffins
A MacGuffin is an object whose only function is to drive the
plot. It’s the thing the player characters are hired to find, or
steal, or protect from other people that want it. The Holy Grail
from Arthurian legend was a MacGuffin; its purpose was to get
the knights out on a quest. Marsellus Wallace’s briefcase in

33
Pulp Fiction is a MacGuffin; what matters is that people are
willing to go to extremes to get it. The Maltese Falcon, from the
book and movie of the same name, is a MacGuffin; it’s a
valuable thing that people desire to possess.
That doesn’t mean that the MacGuffin can’t be impactful.
The Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark melted Nazis.
The point, though, is to get Indiana Jones and Belloq racing to
get it first. A magic sword, a suitcase full of cash, or tickets to
Coachella all have value, but they’re a reward for the characters
if they complete the adventure. Their role in the plot is to
provide motivation.
Examples of Common MacGuffins
• Secret information, plans, blackmail material;
• Money, stock certificates, gold, jewels;
• Rare artifacts, holy objects, antiquities;
• Weapons, magic items, lost technology.
Figure out what sorts of MacGuffins will be appropriate in
your setting. Come up with fancy names for them, and maybe
work them into your world’s history and lore. Name drop them
a few times, either in your background material or during
planned adventures. Then if you need to pull a story out of thin
air, it will feel planned because the players will have heard of
the MacGuffin before, even if they don’t know what it is.
Name Lists
Keeps lists with all sorts of names. Use them for non-player
characters, inns, starships, whatever you think you’ll need for
your setting. When you need to make up a person or location
on the fly, pick a name from the appropriate list, cross it off,
and use it.
There are tons of resources available online and in print. In
the old days, I kept baby name books handy. Today there are

34
websites with random name generators for every genre. Need
elf names? There are sites for that. Aliens, Cthulhu mythos
creatures, or pirate ships? You can find those with a Google
search. Need some surnames from specific cultures? They’re
out there and easy to locate.
Generate a lot of names for the purposes you expect you’ll
need, and save them in the format you prefer. Print them out,
keep them on your phone, stick them in a document. As long as
you can access them when you need them, that’s all that
matters.
Pre-generated Characters
It never hurts to have a stash of characters around. Creating
them in your spare time serves two purposes. First, it helps you
better understand the game you’re running. You get to see the
character generation process, know what abilities are available,
and gain a feel for the rules that might come into play. This
practice will allow you to help your players.
Second, you build up a bank of characters that you can use.
When you need a non-player character, grab one of your pre-
generated characters. Slap a name on them from your name
list, figure out how they fit into the context of the location, and
you’re ready to go.
Again, there are websites and books filled with pre-
generated characters for popular systems. Use them as-is, or
tweak them a bit to suit your game. If you do spend some time
creating characters with no specific purpose, try to have at
least a couple from every character type at different levels of
ability. Then you’ll have options in a pinch.

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SESSION ZERO
Session Zero is the initial meeting of a new game group.
This session is where you and the players get to know each
other, discuss what the game is about, and create characters.
It’s where you can tell the players about your gamemastering
style and learn what they each want.

Introductions and Icebreakers.

Begin Session Zero by thanking everyone for coming and
introducing yourself. You might answer an icebreaker question,
like how much experience you have playing roleplaying games.
Then everyone goes around the table to state their name and
answer the same question.
An icebreaker is an exercise designed to help people get to
know one another. The intention is to warm people up, get
them comfortable with sharing and interacting and let them get
to know one another. Depending on how much time you’ve got
during Session Zero, you should ask 1 to 3 icebreaker
questions.
Examples of Common Icebreaker Questions:
• What got you interested in roleplaying games?
• What games have you played before?
• What do you like most about tabletop
roleplaying?
• What do you like most about the game’s genre?
• What’s your greatest strength as a player?
Keep questions positive. Don’t ask what people dislike
about a system, setting, or genre. Never ask what their
weaknesses or “areas of opportunities” are. You’re looking for
common ground that you can build a team around. If you work

36
from a shared distaste, you’re opening the door to more
negativity.
Icebreakers should never be awkward or uncomfortable,
especially in Session Zero. Don’t ask anything a person might
not want to answer or request information that a reasonable
person may be reluctant to tell a total stranger.

Setting Expectations
One of the most important responsibilities of being a
gamemaster is leading the group. This role means managing
the dynamics of player interactions. It is the part of the job
most people find uncomfortable. If you want the group to
survive and grow, you need to take charge when necessary.
A big part of this is setting expectations upfront. Let
everyone know what your code of conduct is. Discuss what the
players want the group to be like, and agree on some basic
rules. When everyone is on the same page from Session Zero,
you’re less likely to have problems later.
General Behavior
If you’re playing at someone’s home, they’re allowed to
have rules. They might bar swearing or discussions of an adult
nature if they have young kids or parents in the house. Smoking
and drinking might not be allowed. I don’t allow discussion of
real-world politics. If other people are in the home not playing
the game, there might be basic requests about noise volume
after a set hour. These sorts of rules are about showing respect
and appreciation to those who have opened up their home and
provided the venue.
Behavior also extends to what is appropriate within the
game. If the players are not allowed to swear, they can’t do so in
character either. This idea extends to descriptions of graphic

37
situations, the types of action the characters will take, and
dialogue.
The generally accepted consequence is to revoke their
invitation. That does not mean the person is out of the group
forever, but it is not unreasonable for the host to ask them to
leave if they break the house rules. Again, though, this might
need to be made clear during Session Zero.
When playing in a public venue, the rules will be clear.
Conventions and game stores let you know what they do and
don’t allow in their space. Expect them to be less willing to let
things slide than a person allowing you to play in their home
because they’re likely far more used to enforcing rules and are
comfortable with confrontation.
Schedule
You need to establish three basics; when, where, and how
often the group will meet. If you meet at 7 pm, every Tuesday,
at Adrian’s house, you achieve the bare minimum. When the
schedule is more erratic, you might want to nail down specific
dates. You might agree to meet the second and fourth week of
the month or the Saturday closest to the 15th.
Other scheduling issues to consider are how long sessions
may last. Some people cannot play past a specific time because
they have work or school in the morning. Others can only play
for a certain number of hours. They get tired, or it stresses a
health issue. If people need to use public transportation or get
a ride, that might also affect their availability; they need to
leave before the last train departs, or they can’t play on
Sundays because the buses don’t run.

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Starting on Time
Everyone needs to show up on time. This expectation
should be simple, but in my experience, it’s one of the most
challenging elements to manage. Some people are never on
time, and others seem to think it’s no big deal to show up late.
It’s being impolite to the other players, and it’s disrespectful to
the work you’ve put into preparing the session as the
gamemaster.
The time a session starts and the time players can begin to
show up are two different things. If you say the game starts at 7
pm sharp, that means everyone should have arrived, unpacked,
and settled in before the appointed time. Then at 7 pm, you can
launch into the game.
“On time” cuts the other direction, too. Let people know
how early they can begin showing up. Some people will want to
come far too early. Premature arrival creates a problem if
you’re playing after dinner, but people arrive while you and
your family are still eating. You have chores or prep to finish,
and an early arrival throws that off. Maybe you’ve been out and
got home just in time to grab a shower and a snack; now a
player is waiting, and it feels awkward. When you’re using a
public venue like a game store, there might be another group
using the table in the time slot leading up to yours.
If people are consistently late, you need to discuss the
session time. Would it work better if you pushed things back by
15 minutes or played on a different day? Talk it over with the
other players, and see if you can make accommodations.
Phones, Books, and Other Distractions
Once play begins, there shouldn’t be anything out at the
table that’s not directly related to the game. That includes
comic books, action figures, handheld games, art supplies,

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phones, and manuals for other tabletop roleplaying games.
Those things are distractions. Some players will pay more
attention to those things than what’s going on in the game.
The thing is, phones are great for looking up rules and other
information. If you allow them for this purpose, issue a time
limit. Give the player a fixed amount of time to look something
up. If they can’t find it in that time, make a ruling and have
them put the phone away again. See the section on Rule
Disputes in the Running a Game Session section for more on
this topic.
Table Talk
The conversation around the table is part of the game. It
can also be a distraction, so set some guidelines and
boundaries. Any discussion about topics unrelated to the game
shouldn’t be allowed while in session. Talk about movies, TV
shows, video games, romantic entanglements, work, family, the
weather, anything like that before the game starts, during a
break, or after the session ends.
Beyond that, however, there are some gray areas. Is it okay
for players to share rules knowledge or offer tactical advice?
Can player characters speak when it’s not their turn, and can
players speak when their character isn’t in the room? Do you
need to raise your hand to talk when it’s not your turn? I’ve
played in groups that had rules like that.
I play it fast and loose with table talk. As long as it’s about
the game, I’m good with one player suggesting a move to
another or invoking a rule that will help another character. As
long as it’s in the spirit of supporting the team, let people
engage in table talk.

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Snacks and Drinks
People need to eat. Depending upon when you schedule the
game session, you might need to plan a meal break. The real
question is whether or not you allow snacks and beverages at
the table. My take has always been, “It depends.”
If you have a large table, bring on the food and drink. Small
tables invite spills, and bowls of snacks take up valuable real
estate. Messy food should be off-limits. Popcorn, sandwiches,
and raw veggies are one thing. Powdered donuts, ribs slathered
in barbecue sauce, and drippy ice cream cones are a terrible
idea. Seriously. No. Stick to time-tested party food like chips,
bite-sized things, and stuff you can eat with your hands.
Some people have food allergies. Others have preferences
or food that grosses them out. Respect that. If you have an
opinion about it, keep it to yourself. Other players should
likewise stay quiet about their opinion. You only see each other
for a few hours a week, at most. Banishing peanuts, hard-boiled
eggs, stinky cheeses, or other items that bother even one
person is not a huge or unreasonable sacrifice to make.
It should be a given that everyone needs to clean up after
themselves, but from experience, you might want to state that
upfront. Some people are incredibly kind and a ton of fun to
game with but seemingly raised in a barn. You can help by
letting everyone know, during Session Zero, where to find the
trash bin.
Dealing with Absence
Stuff happens. People will have other things to do and won’t
make a session once in a while. Other times they may need to
cancel at the last minute because something came up suddenly,
like a family emergency or work situation. Have a protocol for

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the way players should let the group know that they won’t be
able to make the session.
Decide how many people can be out before you cancel the
session entirely. This threshold depends on the size of the
group. During Session Zero, you might discuss alternatives, like
playing a board game or watching a movie instead.
If someone calls out frequently, don’t assume ill intent. The
player may have things going on in their life that they don’t
want to discuss. Make sure they’re okay. Gauge their interest in
the game, and check that they’re not getting bored or feeling
ignored. It might be as simple as their schedule changing, but
not wanting to inconvenience the rest of the group by asking
for accommodation. See if you need to alter the session time to
something that works better.
The Tone of the Game
Discuss the intended tone of the game you’re going to run
with the players. Make sure they agree. Then ask them to help
you maintain that tone. Play the characters as if the world is
lighthearted and comedic, or grim and deadly, or whatever best
suits the setting and your take on the genre.
For a serious game, you probably don’t want joke names.
One character that wisecracks and drops puns is probably okay
within that group if that’s their personality. Every character
failing to take anything seriously breaks the mood.
Dice Etiquette
My first piece of advice here is to trust your players.
Remember that you’re playing a game, and no one is going to
drop over dead if someone cheats once in a while. That said,
cheating is also a violation of trust, and some people will take

42
that very seriously. To avoid conflicts, you may need to
establish basic die-rolling protocols.
Players should have to roll dice in the open, where everyone
can see the result. That’s not so you can verify the roll. It’s so
other players can cheer with them when they do well and
commiserate when they do poorly. Okay, it’s also to establish
trust by showing that everyone is honest.
All abilities and modifiers that a player is using should be
declared before the roll unless the rules of your game say
otherwise. If a player honestly says, “oh wait, I forgot to add...”
something legit, you can choose to allow it. Some players view
adding more modifiers after the roll as cheating. Having a
process that the group agreed upon makes life easier.
Most percentile dice come in sets, with specified “tens” and
“ones.” In the olden days, we rolled two d10s of different colors.
The player must declare which is which before the roll. If red is
tens and yellow is ones, that’s the way it remains for the entire
session.
A lot of players are superstitious about their dice. They
think that other people touching them will rob them of their
mojo, especially if they’ve been rolling well. Never touch
another player’s dice. Not even if they go off the table and land
on the floor right next to you. Ask if you can pick it up and hand
it to them.
Rules Discussions
Some games are rules-heavy, with different abilities and
maneuvers working in ways that deviate from the core
mechanic. Other things have specific parameters, like the
amount of damage a weapon does, how long the effects of a
spell last, and so on. It’s a lot to track.

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 Players should be required to understand how their
abilities work. They need to know what their skills, talents, and
powers do and how the moves they want to use work. Make
them keep track of where those rules are in the rulebooks for
ease of reference.
Sometimes a situation will come up, and you don’t know
how it works. Make something up. Seriously. Stay in line with
how the core mechanic works, and then wing it. If a player
objects, let them look it up. Allow a finite amount of time to do
so, like until their next turn or a specific number of minutes.
If no answer appears by the end of the specified time, make
a ruling and move on. Jot down the rule in dispute, and look it
up between sessions. You’ll know what to do the next time the
situation comes up. In the meantime, you haven’t allowed the
game to come to a grinding halt.
Metagaming
Metagaming is using player knowledge to influence
character decisions. The information might be something that
the player learned during the game, but their character wasn’t
there and wouldn’t know. It might be a skill or bit of trivia the
player has, but their character does not. Metagaming is bad
roleplaying at best and cheating at worst.
I tend to let a little bit of metagaming slide. Most of the
time, no ill intent exists. Players forget where the line is. I will
ask how their character knows and accept any plausible
explanation. “I don’t have that skill, by my grandma did, and
she would use that expression all the time” is innocent enough
and can be added to the character’s back story. “I overheard it
when we were at the bar” is something I can work into the plot.
Some game systems have mechanics, like hero points, that
allow you to retcon things in. Why yes, the character has had

44
that skill all along, but it never came up. They did have
something in their back story to explain why. Make them spend
points or use mechanics when appropriate. Then proceed as if
it’s always been that way.
Otherwise, you can tell the player no. Their character can’t
do that because they don’t know the thing that you know. Let it
go, and move on with the adventure.
Mentoring
Don’t be afraid to ask experienced players to help out new
players. You’re trying to run a whole game with many moving
parts. When a new person has a lot of questions, it’s often
easier to have someone next to them that can look at their
character sheet, offer them advice, and explain the rules. This
approach helps the whole group, allows the new player to play
with confidence, and recognizes the experienced player’s skill
and expertise.

Safety Tools
Roleplaying is a social activity, and everyone in your group
should always feel respected, acknowledged, and safe. During
Session Zero, you should tell the players about any themes or
events you plan to include that they might find upsetting. This
notification includes but is not limited to graphic violence,
sexual content, mental health issues, any form of abuse, and
substance use.
Because you cannot foresee how players will react, safety
tools exist. These resources allow players to signal that
something is making them uncomfortable, so you can move on
from it without interrupting the game. There are several safety
tools available online for free. I recommend looking them over
and figuring out which works best for you. Explain these tools

45
during Session Zero, so players know how to use them if they
are needed.
Examples of Popular Safety Tools
• Lines and Veils: http://tinyurl.com/48isk66t
• The X-Card: http://tinyurl.com/x-card-rpg
• Script Change: http://tinyurl.com/nphed7m

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RUNNING A GAME SESSION
No matter what system, setting, or genre you’re playing in,
most game sessions tend to have the same flow. Some of this is
a holdover from early game culture, and habits have calcified
into standard practice. Others have evolved based on what
tends to work best. The following are common session
structures based on those I have seen over the decades.

Starting the Session

A few things should happen at the beginning of every
session.
Say Hello and Get Comfortable
Don’t expect everyone to show up at the designated time
and be immediately ready to play. Humans are social animals,
and tabletop roleplaying is a social activity. Give everyone time
to exchange pleasantries, converse a bit, and unpack their gear.
It helps to have a signal that lets everyone know you’re
ready to begin. This cue can be as simple as saying, “Okay, let’s
get started.” I use music to let people know the session is
officially underway. For every campaign, I select a “theme
song.” This signal helps people get into the right frame of mind.
Players have until the end of the opening theme to wrap up
their conversations, settle into their seats, and get ready to
begin.
Recap the Previous Session
Start the session by going over where the group left off last
time. You can do this as the gamemaster or go around the table
and have the players state what they remember one at a time.
This recap can be interesting because sometimes they’ll focus
on small details that you forgot or emphasize an event that

47
wasn’t supposed to be significant. You can tweak the adventure
to match their impression of the game to increase engagement.
At the end of a player recap, you can fill in any bits they forgot
and remind them of things that might be important to know in
the current session.
When you’re doing a recap, keep two things in mind. First,
not everyone takes detailed notes. Second, not everyone has a
good memory. Never penalize a player because they didn’t
write something down. They might not have realized it
mattered. The same goes for not keeping meticulous notes on
every character that crosses their path. Do you remember
every single person you casually meet as you go about your
day? Probably not. The idea is to have fun. Turning the game
into a paper chase and memory contest isn’t everyone’s idea of
a good time.
Deputizing Players
Being the gamemaster is a big job. Don’t be afraid to ask for
help. There are a lot of things that players can do. You can have
experienced players sit next to new players, mentoring them
and assisting them with the rules. Players can take on some
non-player characters, especially ones unconnected to their
player characters. Designate someone to move miniatures if
you’re using them. Put a player in charge of snacks, drinks,
wrangling cats, looking up rules, any task that would draw your
attention away from running the game.
Some gamemasters like to reward players for taking on
these extra roles. I tend not to. I express my gratitude, to be
sure, and thank them at the end of each session. I see it as the
duty of a team player rather than taking on extra chores. You
want to train them to work together because it’s the right thing
to do, not because they get bonus swag.

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 If you want to reward them, I suggest doing so outside the
context of the game. Don’t give characters extra goodies; take
the player to lunch, send a thank-you card, or get them a
present at the end of the campaign.

Telling the Story

This idea isn’t as complicated as it sounds. Like most other
forms of fiction, a roleplaying adventure needs a beginning,
middle, and end.
The Beginning
The first act centers on introducing the adventure goal. It
can just be a single scene. Tell the players what their characters
need to do. Slay the dragon, stop the supervillain, steal the
secret plans, investigate strange events on planet Axiom VI,
whatever you’ve decided the objective is. There has to be some
reason to entice them to do this, which can range from a desire
for wealth and power, a sense of morals and ethics, or the fact
that it’s their job.
The Middle
The second act is the bulk of the adventure and focuses on
pursuing the goal. The player characters head off to do what
they need to do. You can have planned encounters and provide
hints and clues along the way, but the players should be self-
directed. They decide how they want to pursue the adventure
goal, and you tell them what happens next. You’ll need to
improvise and expand on the choices they make. Sometimes
you’ll need to remind them of their goal and keep them on
track, but never force them into a specific course of action.

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The End
The final act is where the player characters achieve the
adventure goal. There can be steps they need to have taken to a
specific place, finding the right person, or gathering particular
resources. How they get here and solve the problem you
presented should center on their ideas and actions. This finale
is often an epic scene where the characters “win.”

Pacing the Session

Pacing is the speed at which the adventure unfolds. Like any
other form of fiction, a roleplaying game doesn’t happen in
real-time. You can skip over the boring parts with a line of
exposition. Stating “You arrive in London” rather than playing
out the long wait at the airport and what happens on the flight,
for example.
Gloss over things that aren’t interesting or necessary; “You
locate a smith that has the type of sword you were looking for,”
rather than playing out the details of going to shop seeking a
particular piece of equipment.
If you ignore pacing, players will get bored. That’s when the
game, and the group, can begin falling apart. The following tips
will help you to control the pacing. Over time you’ll develop a
feel for it, and pacing will happen naturally.
Keep It Fun
Every scene should have a purpose. It has to connect with
moving closer to achieving a goal. Maybe there is an obstacle to
overcome that advances the party’s objectives. A player
character might have spotlight time, allowing them to do what
they enjoy doing. These things will keep the players engaged
and more likely to tell you they’re having fun.

50
 To that mixture, I want to offer the concept of the downtime
scene. The players can think about what’s happened so far and
make some plans. It’s where the characters can heal, refresh
their equipment, and maybe engage in a subplot or just have an
in-character conversation with other party members.
Alternate Rising and Falling Action
I’m not going to do a deep dive into dramatic theory here.
For our purposes, rising action means the story becomes more
intense. There is an increased sense of urgency and encounters
become progressively more difficult. Falling action is the
opposite. The story slows down a bit, so the player gets a
chance to breathe and process what’s happened, and their
characters have a moment to regroup and recover.
Knowing when and how to switch between these two
modes takes some practice. If you’re in rising action mode for
too long, everyone will become stressed out. When you spend
too much time in falling action, they’ll get bored. The best
advice I can offer is to read the room. Switch things up when
the players don’t seem to be engaged or having fun.
Plan Breaks Accordingly
We’ve talked about the need for players to eat, hydrate, and
go to the bathroom. Where you plan your breaks can contribute
to the overall pacing of the session. Never take a break after
something notable happens. Unless it’s the end of the session,
you don’t want players to leave the table when their energy is
high. It will be harder to get them back into the game. The
adrenaline will be wearing off, and what comes next will likely
be less thrilling than the last scene.
Instead, break right before something thrilling is about to
occur. It’s the cliffhanger principle. Make the players wait to
find out what happens next. The players will be eager for the

51
break to be over, their energy will be high, and they’ll be
focused.
Have a Wild Card Handy
I’ve never been fond of the Dungeons & Dragons concept of
the wandering monster. The whole notion of “balanced
encounters” goes out the window if the party might randomly
have extra things to fight. The idea doesn’t transfer to other
genres and settings well, either. It’s hard to imagine a team of
spies on a secret mission running into ninjas that have nothing
to do with the plot or the crew of a starship getting attacked by
an alien vessel with no underlying political consequences for
the metaplot.
What I prefer to do is have a wild card ready. This scenario
is like a random encounter, but I’ve planned it and can stick it
into the adventure whenever I encounter a lull. If the players
are tired, a downtime scene is going on too long, or people are
getting restless during one character’s spotlight moment, I can
throw in something that will get their attention.

Running Scenes
An adventure contains several scenes or encounters. It’s a
continuous sequence of action or dialogue. Usually, but not
always, it takes place at a single location. Once that sequence is
over and the character move on to something else, the scene is
over.
Examples of Scenes
• Secret agents receive a briefing from their boss.
• Detectives look for clues at a crime scene.
• A starship does battle with an enemy warship.
• Mercenaries fight a horde of goblin bandits.
• Survivors hide until a herd of zombies passes by.

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 When planning an adventure, I use a rule of thumb that
each scene will last about 20 minutes. This length assumes four
players familiar with their characters, the setting, and the
system. For a two-hour session, I plan five scenes. This amount
leaves some padding if things go a little long. This will, of
course, vary based on the system, the players, and the events of
the scene.
If you’re running a tactical or rules-heavy system, plan on
combat scenes to take about 30 minutes each. When you have
talkative players, social interaction scenes will go on longer.
Add five extra minutes per scene per player for larger groups.
New players will also take more time until they learn the rules,
so tack on another five minutes per scene so you can explain
things and help them. The more you play your system of choice,
the better you’ll be able to estimate the time different types of
scenes might take.
Scene Basics
There are three things that you need when putting together
a scene. You have to know the purpose it serves, the set where it
takes place, and the characters present.
Purpose
A scene’s purpose is what you want to accomplish. There
should be a reason for including it. Ask yourself the following:
• Does this scene reflect rising or falling action?
• How does it move the characters closer to the goal?
• What obstacle does it present?
• Who can get spotlight time in this scene?
Scenes are easier to plan when you understand their
contribution to the adventure. Know whether it’s there because
it relates to the goal, provides an obstacle for the party to

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overcome, offers spotlight time for one or more characters, or
creates some downtime.
Set
This element is where the scene takes place. There should
be a reason, either logistically or thematically, why you’ve
chosen to place the scene there. Ask yourself the following:
• Can a recurring location be used?
• Can a stock set be used?
• Do I need to create a new one?
The location will affect the tone of the scene. Much of that
will come from how you describe it. A house can be cheerful or
spooky; an amusement park, joyful or ominous. Location can
also create opportunities and limitations for character actions.
You can get swashbuckling swordplay on a grand staircase in a
gloriously appointed castle, but not so much in a cramped
sewer where the characters are in waste-deep water and need
to stoop down because of the low ceiling.
Recurring sets are places that characters visit again and
again. Use their homes, headquarters, favorite restaurants, and
so on. This approach not only cuts down on prep for you but
can lead to future story hooks if the characters have to return
there after some notable incident.
Stock sets are generic locations that you can reskin based
on need. Recycle the same tavern by giving it a different name,
describing alternate décor, and altering a few details.
Characters
The last element you need to think about is which
characters are present in the scene. Are all of the player
characters there? Do you have villains and monsters only?
Would it make sense for there to be extras and innocent
bystanders milling about in the background?

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 • Can I use recurring non-player characters?
• Can stock characters be used?
• Do I need to create new characters?
When you can use the same non-player characters, it
creates a sense of continuity and aids in immersion. Whether
the players love or hate them, they will become invested in
recurring characters. It also saves you some effort by not
needing new personalities to play.
Stock characters are generic non-player characters. Reuse
them by changing their names and descriptions. Keep the
statistics for a city guardsman or shopkeeper, but find a unique
personality.
Elements of a Scene
Within a scene, there will be several things going on.
Conversation
Roleplaying games are about social interaction. Even
though you’ll provide a great deal of exposition, describing
things and inserting background information, you should also
engage the group in conversation. Rather than telling the
players, have non-player characters reveal things. This
technique drives engagement and gets the players actively
involved in the game rather than sitting and listening to you.
Information
In nearly every scene, you will be telling the players
something they didn’t know before. Sometimes the information
provided will be obvious. The players went looking for an
answer, and they found it. Other times you might be dropping
clues, working in some subtle worldbuilding detail, or letting
them know something about a non-player character based on
how they speak and behave. Even the locations and events in

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the background can add to the tone, support the genre, and
reinforce the theme.
Opportunities
Every scene has to be an opportunity for the player
characters. There needs to be a chance to speak, act, and do
something that moves the story forward. If it’s a spotlight
scene, it might allow one character in particular to do their
thing. Never just tell them things while preventing them from
participating. You’re running a game, not reading them a story.
Challenges
What player characters can do during a scene shouldn’t
always be easy. Once in a while, they should find a clue, kill the
monster in one blow, and pick the lock with minimal effort.
Most of the time, they should have to work for it. Even if
success is assured, the degree of success might be in question.
They’re good, but are they good enough? The possibility of
failure its potential consequences drive the characters forward
and make the story interesting. If success is guaranteed, it isn’t
an adventure so much as a guided tour through a fictional
world.
Tips on Running Scenes
Every gamemaster does things differently. Like your
gamemastering style, over time, you will figure out what you’re
good at, what you’re comfortable with, and what you enjoy.
There are a few tips that I can provide that are universal,
regardless of your methodology.
Lead by Example
Model the behavior you want your players to display. If you
want them to interact in character, speak to them in the first
person. When portraying non-player characters, say I, me, we,

56
and our. Avoid slipping into the third person and describing
what he, she, or they are doing. Roll the dice the way you want
them to roll them. Describe actions the way you prefer to have
them described. Use the sorts of manners and etiquette you
hope they’ll use in turn.
Keep It Short and Simple
Don’t over-describe a scene. Pick one key fact about a set, a
non-player character, or an object. You’re telling the players
what’s relevant. When it matters that a non-player character
has green eyes, describe that. More detail means more things
for the players, and you, to track. It might be fun and create a
more immersive experience, but it can also be confusing and
obscure the details relevant to the story.
Remember the Tone and Theme
The details in the scene are your primary way of creating
atmosphere. A clean, well-lit corridor communicates a different
message than a dark, humid stone passageway. If you’re going
for drama, go drab; for comedy, lean toward bright colors.
Reinforce the theme in the same way. Places where good
prevails will feel safe and have all those markers; smiling
people, well-maintained streets, and freshly-painted buildings.
Evil will be run-down, overgrown, filled with suspicious-
looking characters, and obvious signs of criminal activity.
Show, Don’t Tell
Whenever possible, don’t just describe the scene to the
character in a straightforward, clinical way. Let them know how
it affects them and makes them feel. “The room is dark” is
pretty generic. “You can’t see well, and you have to feel your
way along the cobblestone floor” is far more evocative and
personal. It creates specific concerns and prompts possible
character decisions and actions.

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Verisimilitude
This term is a fancy word for “the appearance of being real.”
Things need to seem plausible within the setting, the genre,
and everything established during the adventure. Describe
surroundings in a way that suits the context provided. Be
consistent with the players’ expectations. Confuse the players
and cause them to ask questions (“Laser guns in a fantasy
world? What? How?”) intentionally, and not because it seemed
interesting at the moment.
Dramatic Tension
Always hold some information back during an adventure.
Put off providing all of the answers for as long as possible.
Creating some sort of mystery keeps players engaged because
they want to find out the truth. Anything’s a mystery when you
don’t have the whole story. This idea applies to non-player
characters, historical events, the back story for a location, the
origins of an object, anything at all. Reveal most things by the
end of the adventure. You might have a few ongoing mysteries
that play out across several episodes or the entire campaign.

Applying the Rules

When many people describe the gamemaster’s role, they
think of the person that enforces the rules. A judge doesn’t
create the laws but interprets them based on the scenario
brought before them in court. I prefer to think of the rules as a
toolbox used by everyone at the table to help collaborate on
creating a shared experience. The gamemaster ensures that the
rules are consistent and fair.
Determine Difficulty
The gamemaster gets to decide how hard any task a
character wants to perform is. You determine what abilities

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they need to use, modifiers that apply, and target numbers.
Many systems have clear rules about difficulty levels. Most of
the time, you will do what feels right in the situation.
A dirty secret few people talk about you do not need to roll
for everything. If the difficulty is low and the character’s ability
is high, you can declare them successful. I know that eliminates
the fun of rolling dice. For actions that don’t have serious
consequences, it saves time. Can the musclebound barbarian
kick in the flimsy wooden door? Yes, success by caveat, let’s not
waste time rolling dice on this.
The pairing of difficulty and description can create a lot of
dramatic tension. You can tell the players that the situation
looks next to impossible when it’s pretty simple. Conversely,
something might appear easy but is far more complicated
because of factors the player characters can’t see.
Difficulty is also a way to control pacing and alter the
narrative. If the game is dragging or players are frustrated,
lower the difficulty. That action can speed things up and
restore some morale. When the session goes by too quickly, and
the player characters find success with too little effort,
increasing the difficulty can shift things back into the proper
perspective.
Determine Consequences
The player rolls dice, and their character either succeeds or
fails. But what does that mean? Sometimes it’s a pass/fail
situation where the consequences are evident. If a character is
trying to leap over a pit and succeed, they make it across safely.
Should they fail, they fall.
But what does that mean? When they fail and fall in, are
they injured? Some systems like Dungeons & Dragons use
abstract injury systems. The character has many hit points, and

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they’re fine until they get to zero. Wounds don’t have any
subtle, ongoing impact until the character suddenly drops dead
from taking too much damage.
You can still narrate the consequences, even when there’s
no mechanical effect. If your system of choice gives you some
degree of success, you can describe what a low level of success
is. In the pit-jumping scenario above, the character might not
land on their feet but hit the wall on the far side, barely
grasping the ledge and them pulling themselves up on the
other side. They didn’t fall in, but it didn’t look graceful, either.
A character that takes abstract damage might get a cut on
their shoulder. It’s not going to impact actions because the
system doesn’t work like that, but they can roleplay it if they
choose to. It provides an interesting visual, at the very least.
Handle Rules Disputes
Nothing will bring a game to a grinding halt faster than a
disagreement over a rule. Typically, the gamemaster thinks a
mechanic works one way, and a player insists it functions
differently. This issue comes up more often regarding how
abilities like spells and powers work, but it can be a sticking
point in combat when there’s no clear consensus about
handling injury and damage. Mainly, players are trying to save
their character’s life or kill off an enemy character faster.
If a situation arises and you’re not familiar with the specific
rule that governs it, make a ruling and move forward. Stay in
line with the game’s core mechanic, and use common sense.
Quickly write down what the situation was. Look it up before
the next session. Then you’ll know what to do if the same
problem happens in the future.
Should a player dispute the ruling and want to look up the
official rule, I have two pieces of advice. First, make the players

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responsible for knowing their characters. This duty includes
how special abilities and maneuvers they want to perform
work. They have to explain the rule or provide a page number
for it. The onus is entirely on them.
If they demand to look up a rule, allow them to do so but set
a time limit. Depending on the circumstances, you might give
them until their next turn and continue play, or give them a few
minutes and take a brief break. If they can’t find it within the
allotted time, make a ruling, look it up later, and move forward.
Only stop the game when the outcome has dire
consequences for a player character. If it’s a matter of a
character’s life or death, take the time to find the rule. When
it’s ultimately not going to affect the outcome of a scene, a
session, or the overall adventure, keep moving and sort things
out for next time.

Rewarding the Players

It’s traditional to reward characters for being played well.
That’s the best way I can put it. When a character is successful
and achieves their goals, the player can improve that character.
The specifics of the rewards depend on the game system you’re
using, which undoubtedly has guidelines on how to handle
these things.
Extrinsic Rewards
An extrinsic reward is something tangible. For players, this
can be counted, like experience points, hero points, or chances
to improve their character. Characters might get treasure,
magic items, a medal from a government official, a promotion
in rank, or a little extra in their paycheck. It’s what the game
itself, the people in the setting, and you as the gamemaster
value and choose to celebrate.

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 While character experience is typically part of the game
system, extrinsic rewards are arbitrary and left to you. If you
want to give characters fortune, glory, and power, do so. What
matters is whether or not it’s in line with the tone and genre of
the setting.
Intrinsic Rewards
Intrinsic rewards include the satisfaction players feel when
they’ve completed an adventure goal. Their actions were
meaningful because they served a purpose. They know their
decisions were good ones because they were successful. It’s
about what the player values, how they feel about how they
played their characters, and the pride they take in doing a good
job.
You can contribute much to a player’s intrinsic rewards.
When they’re doing a good job, tell them so. If you enjoyed how
they played their character, were impressed with how they
solved a problem or were in awe of some tactical maneuver
they thought up, say so. A little praise can go a long way.

Ending the Session

You don’t have to end every session on a cliffhanger, but you
should always leave the players wanting more. Whether you
wrapped up an adventure or came to a natural stopping point
in the current pursuit of a goal, they should be excited about
coming back the following week.
Many gamemasters will ask for feedback at the end of the
session. I find that brings the energy down and snaps people
back to reality too quickly. Let them savor the game for a while
and enjoy the session they just finished.
Be aware of when people need to leave, especially if they
have to use public transportation, call for rideshare, or have

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people picking them up. Allow some time for folks to pack up
their stuff, have a bit of table talk, and unwind. End early
enough that people don’t feel as if they need to rush out the
door.
Between Sessions
Many game groups have email chains, group texts, or social
media to stay in touch between sessions. This forum is the best
place to ask for feedback. Players can answer at their leisure,
letting you know what they liked, what they might like
changed, and asking you questions. They can also send you
private messages if they have comments or concerns that they
are uncomfortable sharing with everyone. You can answer as
you have the time.

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BEING HUMAN
Tabletop roleplaying differs from board games in that the
rules are not always absolute. When you roll dice in Monopoly,
you have to move precisely so many spaces. Roleplaying is
rarely that rigid. You make decisions, and they may not always
make the right ones. Permit yourself to be human. Roleplaying
is a social activity. That requires everyone to assume good
intentions and show empathy and compassion as needed.
You’re all supposed to be there to collaborate and have a fun
time.

Applying the Rules

Most of the time, the rules are clear. You will know what to
do. Other times, you will have to exercise your authority as the
gamemaster and make a ruling. There are many reasons why
this might happen, but three are especially common:
• Players want to do something that’s not in the rules;
• the rules contradict themselves; or
• the rules are intentionally left open to interpretation.
Let’s take a look at these situations a little more closely.
It’s Not in the Rules
Even the thickest rulebook with the crunchiest mechanics
can’t handle every imaginable situation. No matter how
thoroughly playtested or carefully designed, some players will
want to do something the game’s designers didn’t consider.
You’ll need to make a ruling.
The Rules Contradict Themselves
Tabletop roleplaying games are written by multiple people,
which creates a margin for error. It could be as simple as one
part of the book explaining a rule one way and another

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phrasing it differently. This inconsistency creates room for
another interpretation. When a system has multiple
supplements, the odds that new rules will conflict with old
ones increases. You’ll need to make a ruling.
It’s Open to Interpretation
“Lite” systems often give you abstract results by design.
Task resolution is either pass/fail, so you need to figure out
what happened or provide degrees of success that aren’t
mechanically-oriented. What does a three on a scale of 1 to 10
mean in the current situation? Is that a failure or a low success?
If the latter, what does a low level of success mean? You’ll need
to make a ruling.
Making a Ruling
Some gamemasters fall back on the “I’m the gamemaster,
and I say so” technique, which rarely wins people over to your
side. I prefer to have some logic behind my rulings, so I can
explain to the players why I called things the way I did. They
might still disagree with my decision, but they can usually
accept that I did what I did for a reason.
When making rulings, there are two common stances
toward the rules. Most gamemasters lean toward one or the
other, but they’re rarely absolute; most people are somewhere
in the middle. The two stances are as follows:
Rules-as-Written
From the rules-as-written stance, rulings are made based
on the possibilities presented in the rulebook. If there’s no
allowance for it in the rules, you can’t do it.
A more forgiving (and workable) position is to use the core
mechanic and innate character attributes (Strength,
Intelligence, Willpower, Presence, and so on) in the absence of

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special abilities that would cover the situation. When there’s
nothing in the rules to explain how a character might attempt a
task, the gamemaster can add modifiers based on the
circumstances. However, because they are trying to do
something outside of the rules, the modifier is usually a
penalty, signifying that what they’re doing is difficult.
Rules-as-Intended
From the rules-as-intended stance, rulings incorporate the
context provided by the rules, plus the genre and setting. If a
character in a science fiction setting wants to cast a spell, for
example, and there are no abilities or systems in place to allow
for that, you can say no. It doesn’t fit with the context of the
game. If it’s a fantasy setting and elements of the rules, the
world, and the character’s background suggest such a thing is
possible, you can allow the character to attempt it.
As with the rules-as-written stance, you can fall back on the
core mechanic, character traits, and modifiers. The key
difference here is that you’re more likely to provide bonuses if
the attempted task has contextual support. There might not be
specific rules for creating a magic wand, for example, but magic
exists, and magic wands exist, so it makes sense that characters
should be able to make magic wands somehow. If the character
knows how to craft things can cast spells, you can give them a
bonus on the attempt.

Making Mistakes
You will make mistakes. At some point, you will
misinterpret a rule, misremember something, or apply the
wrong modifiers. The ruling you make will, in hindsight, be so
obviously erroneous it’s embarrassing. It’s okay. Roleplaying is
a social activity, so making mistakes is a social faux pas that can

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be painful to face. You will feel that you’ve let the players down,
and they might feel the same.
That’s why you need to learn to fail fast and fail forward.
Failing Fast and Failing Forward
Here are my three rules for dealing with it and moving on:
• Acknowledge when you make a mistake.
• Try not to make the same mistake twice.
• Learn from your mistakes and try to do better.
Failing fast means dealing with a mistake as soon as you
realize you’ve made it, or a player points it out to you. Own up
to it, fix it, and keep going. Apologize as appropriate. When it’s
going to be complicated or require research, you can put it off,
but you need to make a promise to deal with it as soon as
possible, preferably before the next session.
Failing forward means learning from the mistake. Figure
out what went wrong and why. Do your best to avoid the same
thing happening again. Determine what went wrong and how
you can prevent it from happening again, then share it with the
group. Let them know that you are trying to do better.
Flawed Rulings
When you make a flawed ruling that negatively affects a
character or derails the storyline, stop and fix it. I have played
with gamemasters that called for a do-over, and we played out
the scene in question again once we fully understood the rules.
Other times the gamemaster retconned things on the spot, said
none of that ever happened, stated that things went in favor of
the player characters, and moved on.
High Difficulty
Sometimes you will set the difficulty for a task too high. You
might throw opponents or obstacles at the party too powerful

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for them to handle. It could be that you failed to provide them
with any downtime so the characters could rest and the players
could process what’s going on and make plans.
This one is easy to tweak on the fly. Change the task
modifiers, weaken the monsters, or remove some obstacles.
Have some non-player character cavalry arrive in the nick of
time to help the player characters out of a tight spot. Most of
the time, I realized the difficulty was wrong before anything
catastrophic has happened.
Low Difficulty
You’re wondering how setting the difficulty too low counts
as making a mistake, so I’ll tell you: the adventure becomes
boring. The player characters cut through the bad guys like a
hot knife through butter. Clues are found, puzzles solved, and
nothing seems to present much of a challenge,
This issue is easy to spot and adjust on the fly. Increase task
difficulty. Set lower bonuses and higher penalties for
circumstantial modifiers. Throw more bad guys at the player
characters to make things more difficult. Tweak the stats of the
villains and monsters to make them more durable.
Problem Characters
A problem character doesn’t fit with the genre and setting.
The chosen personality doesn’t click with the other player
characters. I’ve dealt with this many times when a player
insisted that they badly wanted to play a particular type of
character, and against my better judgment, I allowed it. At least
once, I have been that player.
A corollary to this is when the player character is allowed to
have too many items, or one powerful artifact, that gives them
an unreasonable advantage. For me, this happened when I was

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running a published adventure and hadn’t read it over
thoroughly. A character managed to get ahold of something no
player character should have. Oops.
Unless it disrupts the game session currently in progress,
dealt with the issue between sessions. Don’t fault the player
because they were only doing what you and the system enabled
them to do. Have a conversation, and either have them recreate
the character without the jaw-droppingly misaligned abilities
and background, or work with them on creating and
introducing a new character.
The one time that I was the problem, I was the one who
brought it up to the gamemaster. We were using an optional
sourcebook. My character had abilities best described as
broken. It was too powerful, so I asked the gamemaster to kill
them off. We worked the death into the storyline. It happened
in a way that allowed me to debut my new character.

Dealing with Problem Players

This issue is, without a doubt, the hardest to deal with as a
gamemaster. Most people deserve a chance to correct their
behavior. No one enjoys confrontation. It can be too easy to
ignore a problem and hope it goes away. You end up dealing
with what I call the Transitive Property of Bad Guy – by
pointing out that someone else is being the Bad Guy, you
somehow become the Bad Guy.
All of this is why you should start with Session Zero. These
situations are why safety tools exist. If you set clear
expectations, then you need to issue consequences. When you
haven’t, it’s time to have a new Session Zero to address the
concerns, set new expectations, and hold players accountable
for their behavior.

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Inappropriate Behavior
Let’s begin with the worst-case scenario. You can define this
however you choose. Without going into graphic detail, I have
witnessed and dealt with some disturbing things with players.
This behavior includes harassment, inappropriate touching,
and violence. The sorts of behaviors that get people ejected
from venues, banned from conventions, and even thrown in jail.
I am not a fan of zero-tolerance policies, but some things
need immediate attention. If you threaten another player, call
people vile names, or lay your hands on someone, game over.
You’re out. Call security. Call the police. Do what you must to
protect the safety of everyone. The offender can’t be allowed
back into the group for any reason.
This situation is pretty dark for a tabletop roleplaying book,
but unfortunately, we live in a world where these things
happen with alarming regularity.
Spotlight Hogs
This sort of player demands attention. They think all
spotlight time should be their spotlight time. It’s not even that
they have bad intentions. They could be chatty and unwittingly
talk over people. Maybe they think they’re helping because
they have advice to offer, or their character can do the thing
necessary to move the plot forward. They’re simply clueless
about other peoples’ feelings and needs.
Talk to the player between sessions if you can. Ask them
how things are going and how they’re enjoying the game. They
might not be aware that they’re doing it. Try not to embarrass
them or make them feel that other players are complaining
about them. Restrict the discussion to what you’ve noticed and
what’s made you uncomfortable. Ask them to dial it down a

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little and come up with a signal to use during the game to make
them aware that they’re doing it again.
In my experience, this approach works about 80% of the
time. The other 20% of the time, the player quit the game after
the conversation. Either way, the problem is resolved for the
rest of the group.
Rules Lawyers
A rules lawyer is typically a Tactical Player that’s heavily
invested in the rules as written. If you, or any other player, get
something wrong, they will call you out on it. When you make
any ruling grounded in the rules-as-intended, they will object.
Pretty much any time they perceive that things are deviating
from the rules as they understand them, they will make a fuss
over it.
I saw more of this in the early games when tabletop
roleplaying’s roots were still showing. As story games and
other approaches to roleplaying have emerged, rules lawyers
have become rarer. It’s not their numbers you need to concern
yourself with, though; it’s their intensity.
A rules lawyer isn’t just focused on the game system,
though. They latch onto the minutiae of the setting as well. If
you’re playing in a well-known world, then brace yourself.
They’ve memorized details from interviews with the creators,
seen behind-the-scenes commentaries, and read obscure but
canonical books.
There are two things that you can do to mitigate their
impact. The first is to explain that you’re trying to create a fun
experience for everyone, and you do things the way you do to
facilitate that. Moving the game along, even when it means
fudging some rules or introducing some continuity issues with

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canon, is fun. Stopping every five minutes to look up trivia is
not fun. Maybe for them, but not for the majority of the group.
The second thing you can do is leverage them as a resource.
If you fear an objection should you get something wrong,
consult the rules lawyer. Ask about the mechanic, the coat of
arms of a lesser noble house, or fiddly detail. If they know,
great. Use it. If they don’t, ask them to make something up for
you. It gets them engaged, and they can’t object to inaccuracies
that they introduced.

Handling Character Death

In the world’s most popular tabletop roleplaying game,
Dungeons & Dragons, the possibility of player character death
exists. It’s a combat-centric game, so it makes perfect sense in
that context, Either you kill the monster, or it will kill you. This
assumption has created two common misconceptions about
roleplaying games, which many players and a few game
designers continue to harbor.
First, that all roleplaying games are, innately, combat
games. You can do other things, sure. Conduct investigations,
solve puzzles, and roleplay. At the heart of it all, though, you
fight monsters, space aliens, inter-dimensional beings,
supervillains, and what have you.
Second, the possibility of character death is just how
roleplaying game systems work. That’s how D&D and a slew of
other early games did it. It doesn’t matter if that makes sense.
No matter the genre, setting, or tone of the game, that’s the way
it goes.
Remember earlier in the book when we talked about
different types of players? Not everyone thinks character death
is a good thing. For Fun-Loving Players, killing off their

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character is the opposite of fun. To Imaginative Players, you’ve
just destroyed something they put a lot of time and effort into
making. Problem-Solving Players and Tactical Players might be
okay with character death resulting from their own decisions.
The possibility exists, though, that they died because of bad
rolls. They will get frustrated and angry.
In most cases, I’m not a fan of character death. I think it
should be the player’s decision and that it ought to fit into the
storyline. Not some random act or accident of dice physics. A
meaningful action, which impacts the adventure and the
campaign.
For the most part, I no longer run systems that are so
combat-forward that character death is a seeming inevitability.
When I do, I have characters knocked unconscious. They’ll be
injured, maybe robbed or captured, but they’ll live. When there
doesn’t seem to be any other alternative, I am not afraid to use
a deus ex machina. By an incredible stroke of luck, there is a
deep pool of water at the bottom of that cliff you fell off of, or a
passing dragon swooped in and saved you.
Your game is a work of creative imagination, after all. As the
gamemaster, you get to decide where things are within the
scene and what sorts of non-player characters and monsters
are around. You can do far more fascinating things than kill off
player characters.

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TEACHING NEW PLAYERS
Being the gamemaster implies that you are an expert, a
literal master of the game. The assumption is that you know
the rules and the setting better than anyone else at the table. It
might not be true (and that’s okay), but people will look to you
for guidance. At some point, you’re going to end up teaching
new players how the game works.

What the Game is About

If you’re reading this book, you already know what
roleplaying is. I’m going to assume that if a new player has
agreed to join your group, they understand the concept as well.
You only need to explain the specific game you intend to run.
This point is where most people would start talking about
developing an elevator speech, a synopsis that you can spit out
in about 30 seconds, which is allegedly the average time
another person would be stuck with you on an elevator. No. Do
not take a new player hostage to explain your game. Take your
time, and give them an overview. If they’re interested, tell them
more. Let them ask questions. You’re having a conversation
with a person, not pitching your small business idea to a group
of investors. Relax and have fun.
What the Setting Is
Start by describing the obvious things, like the genre
(fantasy, science fiction, horror, superheroes, and so on). If it
emulates a real-world time and place, like Victorian England or
the early Joseon dynasty of Korea, say so. Then you can explain
the twists and what’s different about it.
When you’re using the official setting of a published game,
say so and then tell the player about it. Share your enthusiasm

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for Glorantha, or the Third Imperium, or Tékumel. If the game
takes place in a world of your creation, tell them what’s cool
about it. You want players to be excited about this setting.
What Else It’s Like
If you’re running a D&D campaign influenced by the films of
Hayao Miyazaki, say so. It lets the plays know what to expect.
Tell them what it is you’re borrowing (the tone, the types of
stories, those sorts of characters) and what you’re leaving out
and changing. “It’s like Supernatural meets Disney’s Gargoyles,”
or “It’s kind of like the belters in The Expanse, but set in the
Traveller RPG universe” are good examples.
When you’re running a game based on a licensed property,
like the official Star Trek Adventures roleplaying game or one of
the many Star Wars games published over the years, they’ll
automatically understand. Again, let them know what you’re
adding, changing, or leaving out.
What Themes It Explores
The theme, again, is the underlying concept behind the
setting and adventures. The default for roleplaying is good
versus evil. Take Dungeons & Dragons. That game centers
around heroes defeating monsters. Decent people confronting
the unspeakable is the core of most horror games. Superhero
games are all about punching villains.
That doesn’t mean you can’t explore other themes. The
theme of Call of Cthulhu is that hidden knowledge got locked
away for a reason. What happens when people find out? There
are all kinds of stories with variations on that theme. Many
zombie-based games have the theme of survival, with
adventures centered around what the characters are willing to
do to avoid getting killed.

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What Storylines are Planned
You don’t have to give away spoilers. Let players know, in
broad strokes, the kinds of stories you’re planning. A superhero
game centered on repelling an alien invasion, after all, is
markedly different from one where the heroes foil bank
robbers and petty criminals. They might associate fantasy with
Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones and expect a big war, but
you might be leaning more toward spiritual quests and deeds
of personal honor along the lines of the Arthurian legends.

How the Core Mechanic Works

Explain the main task resolution mechanic that the system
uses. Do they roll one die, add modifiers, and hope the total is
higher than a target number? Are they supposed to roll dice
and add them together or pull out any above a certain number?
Most games have a core mechanic that everything else builds
on. If there are esoteric rules for specific instances, wait until
the player creates a character and explain only as much as
they’re likely to need. Don’t overwhelm them with complexity.
What Dice to Roll
Dungeons & Dragons uses polyhedral dice. Call of Cthulhu
uses percentile dice. Shadowrun uses a pool of six-sided dice.
You need to let the new player know what type of dice the
game uses. Then you need to explain how to use them.
Different dice can serve many purposes, after all. D&D uses
a d20 for task resolution, and all of the other dice are for
damage in combat and spellcasting.
What Modifiers to Add
Start with explaining the abilities that can add to a die roll.
Don’t worry about what specifics apply to distinct situations.
Stay with the basic concepts. If you add extra dice based on a

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skill, explain that. When you add the bonus based on your
attribute, let them know. Keep the explanations simple and
basic, so they at least get the fundamentals.
How to Interpret Results
Now they know what dice to roll and what modifiers to add.
But what does the final result mean? This part is where you
explain how to calculate the threshold for success. Explain
degrees of success if the task resolution isn’t pass/fail. When
additional die rolls are required, like rolling for damage
separately from rolling to hit, be sure they understand those
concepts.

What You Can Do in the Game

Most new players are interested in this part. What sort of
characters can they create, what role do they have within the
setting, and how can they affect the story? Having already
heard about the game world, they may already have ideas
about the sort of person they want to play.
Types of Characters You Can Play
If the game offers classes, archetypes, and templates, the
player has choices to make. For systems that allow you to
create any character, offer some suggestions. In either case, you
should help the new player select something appropriate for
the type of game you’re going to run. Tell them about the
backgrounds they could choose. Help them tie their character
more closely to the setting.
Types of Abilities You Can Have
Fantasy characters have the option of casting spells.
Superheroes have incredible powers. Even more grounded,
real-world-oriented games have a range of skills, advantages,
and disadvantages. Let the player know the sorts of things they

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can do. They might already have ideas and will need you to
show them how to model that.
Types of Actions You Can Take
You’ve already explained the core mechanic. Now it’s time
to cover how abilities work and the special moves the
characters can perform. You don’t need to go into great detail,
but you might explain simple things like rolling dice for spell
damage or the way bonuses gained will add to their die rolls.
The key is to fire up their imagination. Get them excited not
only about who they can be in the game but what they’re able
to do to affect the setting.

How to Read a Character Sheet

One of the easiest things you can teach a new player is how
to read a character record sheet. You can go over this before
they begin to create their character, and it will do two things.
They’ll know what sorts of abilities and information they need
to establish. And they’ll know where and how to write it down.
Because all games are different, every character sheet is
unique as well. There are a lot of commonalities, though, that
show up on most sheets in some form or another. I’ve covered
the most prevalent items below:
Basic Information
This section covers the character’s name, background, and
appearance. Let the player know that most of this is for their
use, to help them understand the person they’re roleplaying,
and rarely has any bearing on the game mechanics.
Character Types
This area refers to the prepackaged character classes,
archetypes, or templates available in the game. It may also
include the character’s species, background, alien race, and so

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on. Systems that allow you to build characters from scratch
may ask for a profession or occupation.
Ability Types
Many games have innate statistics that every character has,
like Strength, Intelligence, Willpower, or Luck. Most sheets have
them in a prominent place. Other abilities may be connected to
or dependent upon them.
Skills are learned abilities and include anything that the
character knows or has learned to do. Some games have a
limited list printed right on the character sheet, while others
leave spaces for you to fill in what skills the character has.
Advantages and disadvantages are things a character is
especially good or bad at doing. Most character sheets bury this
at the bottom or back page and don’t leave much room.
Power includes superpowers, spells, and so forth. It covers
anything fantastic that a character can do, based on the genre
and setting. The space for these is usually fairly prominent on
the character sheet.
Initiative
This metric is how the system determines who takes their
turn first. It may have another name, but most games have
some method of doing this. Sometimes it’s a fixed number,
based on the character’s physical prowess and perceptive
abilities. Other times it’s a bonus or penalty added to a random
roll so that characters don’t always take their actions in the
same order every time. However the system handles it, this
statistic is usually prominent on the sheet.
Movement
This statistic might be called something else, like Speed, but
it reflects how fast or how far the character can move in a turn.
Not every game has this, but all tactical games will. It’s a

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holdover from tabletop roleplaying’s origins in miniatures
wargaming. Species and background (elves move X, dwarves
move Y) may determine movement rather than individual
ability. Because of that, it’s usually tucked away in some
leftover space on the character sheet.
Attack and Defense
This category covers statistics on how well the character
can attack and defend themselves during combat. These
numbers are prominent on most character sheets. Even games
that aren’t combat-centric will make this information stand
out. It’s another holdover from roleplaying’s tactical roots.
Character sheet designers make it prominent.
Wounds
This section is usually near attack and defense statistics
and indicates how much damage the character can sustain.
Most character sheets devote a fair amount of space to this
because it’s the thing that will change the most often. Players
will do a lot of writing and erasing in this space, which is why
it’s typically a big, empty block. Other systems will break
wounds down into more nuanced mechanics, and those games
often have trackers along the side or bottom instead. New
players should know where to look to track injuries.
Hero Points
This statistic is also known as fate points, action points, or
something similar. As an optional mechanic, not all games have
it. Players can spend them to change rolls. Hero points let
players affect the world in various ways, depending on the
system. Like wounds, this total will change throughout a
session as the player spends them and adds new ones. It’s
usually an empty block somewhere on the sheet, with room to
write and erase without disturbing other statistics.

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GLOSSARY
The following is a collection of tabletop roleplaying terms. It doesn’t
cover things specific to one system or setting but includes commonly used
words and phrases. Different games might use slightly altered terminology
to represent the same concepts, but those concepts remain consistent from
system to system.
Ability also Ability Score, Attribute, Stat, Statistic, Trait. An ability is
anything that a character can do. This includes innate talents, learned skills,
powers, spells, advantages, disadvantages, and so on.
Action What the character does on their turn. Taking an action can
include attacking, moving, or using a skill.
Action Points see Hero Points.
Advancement see Character improvement.
Advantage also Feat, Stunt. An ability that allows a character to do
something most characters can’t or provides a bonus to die rolls when
performing a specific action. See also Modifier.
Adventure A story within the game. Most have a goal that the player
characters need to accomplish or a specific condition that signals the
adventure is over.
Adventure Seed see Hook.
Archetype see Class.
Attribute see Ability.
Bonus see Modifier.
Campaign also Series. Interconnected adventures within the same
setting using the same characters. There is often an overarching plot and an
ultimate campaign goal to achieve. See also Group, Home game, Metaplot.
Canon 1. Official source material for a published setting. This is used to
ensure continuity with published adventures and novels. 2. Official material
within a campaign. This can include what published material the
gamemaster excludes and what is canon within a homebrew setting. See
also Core rules, Hack, Homebrew, House rules, In-game, Optional rules, Out of
game.
Caveat see Fiat.
Character A fictional persona in a roleplaying game. See also Player
character, Non-player character.

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 Character creation also Character generation, Chargen, Rolling up. The
process of creating a tabletop roleplaying character. See also Non-player
character, Player character.
Character generation see Character creation.
Character improvement also Advancement, Leveling up. Adding new
abilities to a character, or increasing existing abilities, as a result of play.
This is often given as a reward for completing an adventure. See also
Experience.
Character sheet also Character record, Character record sheet. A form,
sheet of paper, or digital document containing a character’s abilities and
other information.
Check see Resolution, Roll.
Class also Archetype, Template. A category of character, often selected
as a base or foundation during character creation. This suggests or restricts
the types of abilities the character may have.
Collaborative style A tabletop roleplaying style where there is one
gamemaster, but players contribute to the setting and help develop
storylines. This deviates from the default style, where the gamemaster does
the bulk of that work. See also Troupe style.
Combat also Melee. Physical fights that the player characters get into.
This drives many traditional tabletop roleplaying games, which were
derived directly from tabletop wargames.
Continuity Keeping details consistent from adventure to adventure. See
also Canon.
Convention An event where players, publishers, and creators come
together to play, discuss, and sell games and things related to games.
Convention game An adventure designed specifically to be played in
one session, typically at a convention or game store demonstration. See also
Home game, One-shot game.
Core mechanic The central means of task resolution in a tabletop
roleplaying system, i.e. what the player does when their character is
performing an action. In theory, everything should work the same way. The
core mechanic could be something like “roll a d20, add modifiers, and
overcome a target number” or “roll a number of d6’s equal to your ability
and add the total”.
Core rules The basic rules that are essential to the game. You can play
and run a game using only those rules, with no other books, optional

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mechanics, or supplemental material required. See also Canon, House rules,
Optional Rules.
Critical hit also Crit, Critical. A roll that is not only successful but
achieves the best possible result or triggers some additional effect.
Crunch The bare-bones mechanics of a game, as distinguished from
setting and descriptive material. See also Fluff.
d(number) also dX. A shorthand way of referring to dice of a particular
size. For example, a standard six-sided is a d6 The most common types of
dice in tabletop roleplaying are d4, d6, d8, d10, d20, and d100. Not all
games use the same types of die or use them in the same way.
d% see Percentile.
Damage also Hit Points, Injury, Life, Life Points, Wounds. The method
used for tracking harm that comes to a character, usually in combat.
Die The singular of dice. One d20 is a die, two d20’s are dice.
Difficulty also Difficulty Class, Target. The number you need to roll for
an action to succeed. When a character attempts a task, difficulty represents
how hard that action is to perform. See also Opposed Action, Resolution,
Unopposed Action.
Disadvantages also Disads, Drawbacks, Flaws, Problems, Weaknesses.
Traits that make the character less effective or create obstacles for them.
See also Modifiers, Penalties.
Drama A task resolution method where the gamemaster chooses the
result based on what would be most interesting for the story. See also
Karma, Fortune, Fiat, Resolution.
Drawbacks see Disadvantages.
Dungeon An enclosed set, often underground, that contains hostile
adversaries that the player characters need to fight. A dungeon can be a
cavern, a building, a spaceship, or any confined or limited place that needs
to be explored.
Dungeon Master The Dungeons & Dragons-specific word for
gamemaster. It’s the original term; gamemaster is a derivative term created
for use with other games. See Gamemaster.
Encounter also Combat Encounter. A predetermined scene where the
player characters meet a non-player character or monster. This may connect
to the plot of the adventure, or exist only to act as an obstacle. See also
Scene.

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 Experience also Experience Points, XP. A system for rewarding player
characters when they have accomplished the goals of the adventure. See
Character improvement.
Fate Points see Hero Points.
Feat see Advantage.
Fiat also Caveat. A ruling made by the gamemaster based on their
interpretation of the rules. This is sometimes necessary when the rules are
unclear, or the in-game situation is not specifically covered by the rules.
Gamemaster fiat should be used sparingly because it can be abused. See also
Drama, Fortune, Karma, Resolution.
Flaws see Disadvantages.
Fluff The setting and descriptive material for a game, as opposed to the
technical details of the rules and mechanics. See also Crunch.
Fortune A task resolution method where results are based on random
chance, i.e. the roll of the dice. This is the standard method for most
tabletop roleplaying games. See also Drama, Karma, Fiat, Resolution.
Fudge also fudge the roll, fudge results. A polite way of saying the
gamemaster is cheating. Good gamemasters sometimes fudge the outcome
of die rolls to make things go better for the player characters, or because a
different outcome would be more interesting and present better
possibilities. See also Fiat.
Fumble A task resolution result that is either an automatic failure or
the worst possible result. This often means that the player character not
only didn’t succeed but did something that harms themself or other player
characters. The opposite of a Critical.
Game mechanics see Rules.
Gamemaster also Administrator, Dungeon master, Game master, GM,
Judge, Keeper, Moderator, Narrator, Referee, Story guide, Storyteller. The
person in a game group that runs the adventure, narrates the story, handles
the rules, and takes the roles of non-player characters.
Gamemaster screen also GM screen, Screen. A stand-up rules reference,
often made out of cardstock, used by many gamemasters. In addition to
having necessary tables and charts in plain sight, it also prevents players
from seeing the gamemaster’s notes and die rolls.
Gamist A term from GNS theory describing tabletop roleplaying
systems that emphasize achieving victory conditions akin to a traditional
game. See also GNS theory, Narrativist, Simulationist.

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 Generic also Universal. A tabletop roleplaying system designed without
a specific setting or genre in mind. In theory, a generic system can be used
for anything. Popular with gamemasters who like designing their own
settings.
Genre The tropes and conventions that define a category of fiction,
including books, films, and games. Common tabletop roleplaying genres
include fantasy, horror, science fiction, and superheroes.
GM screen see Gamemaster screen.
GNS theory also GNS. A way of describing the design goals of a tabletop
roleplaying system based on their approach and the goals they are trying to
accomplish. First coined by Ron Edwards on The Forge website, still used in
conversations about design theory. See also Gamist, Narrativist,
Simulationist.
Group Players who get together regularly to play a tabletop roleplaying
game. See also Campaign, Home game.
Hack An adaptation of material from one system or setting for use in a
home game. See also Canon, Core rules, Homebrew, House Rules.
Hero Points also Action Points, Fate Points. A system that allows players
to alter die rolls, change outcomes, or otherwise affect the events in the
game. Points are earned in a variety of ways, often as rewards. The players
spend the points in return for effects designated by the system.
Hit Points see Damage.
Homebrew also Homebrewed. Unofficial material created by a
gamemaster for use in a home game. See also Canon, Hack, House rules.
Home game A regularly scheduled, ongoing tabletop roleplaying game,
often a campaign, with the same group of players. This is separate from a
Convention game or One-shot game.
Hook also Adventure seed, Plot hook, Seed. The premise of an adventure,
often a single sentence or short paragraph that describes the basic plot.
Hooks are not full adventures, just ideas that the gamemaster is left to flesh
out and prepare.
House Rule A new rule or alteration to an existing rule created by the
gamemaster for use in a home game. See also Canon, Hack, Homebrew.
In-character also IC. When players are speaking and acting as their
character, rather than as themselves. See also Out-of-character.
In-game Character actions that take place during the game session, and
events seen from the perspective of the player characters. This does not
include player actions or conversations. See also Canon, Out of game.

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 Initiative The order in which players take their turns, based on when
their characters can take their actions. In other words, who gets to go first,
who go next, and so on until everyone has had a turn. In tabletop
roleplaying, this can change every turn, based on character abilities and
random factors.
Injury see Damage.
Karma A task resolution method where the gamemaster chooses the
result based on a character’s ability score. Characters with a high enough
rating in a specific ability are deemed to be good enough to perform that
task without the player having to roll. See also Drama, Fiat, Fortune,
Resolution.
Leveling up see Character improvement.
Life points see Damage.
MacGuffin An object introduced early in an adventure to motivate the
characters and drive the plot but is otherwise meaningless.
Mechanics see Rules.
Melee see Combat.
Metagaming Using something you know but your character doesn’t
inform that character’s actions and decisions. More broadly, it can refer to
anything that happens Out of game that affects events In-game. See Player
knowledge.
Metaplot A larger ongoing storyline that influences individual
adventures. This is usually a large event within the setting, like a war, a
plague, an alien invasion, or political intrigue. Resolving a metaplot is often
the goal of a campaign. See also Campaign.
Miniature A small figure, usually painted, representing a character.
This definition extends to monsters, vehicles, scenery, and anything else
that helps to create a visual representation of the events within the game.
Modifier also Bonus, Mod, Penalty. A number added to or subtracted
from a die roll. Modifiers can be based on the character’s abilities, or
assigned by the gamemaster to reflect conditions in the scene like cover,
visibility, and weather.
Munchkin A player that leverages the rules to create the most powerful
character possible. Sometimes this is legitimate exploitation of the rules,
other times it requires rationalization, clever interpretations, or even
outright cheating.
Murder hobo also Murderhobo. A character that indiscriminately kills
creatures and even other characters within the game. It is also a style of play

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where characters roam about killing things with few or no In-game
consequences for their actions.
Narrativist A term from GNS theory describing tabletop roleplaying
systems that emphasize creating a story. See also GNS theory, Gamist,
Simulationist.
Natural The result showing on an unmodified die roll. This is typically
used to refer to the best or worst possible roll, i.e. a natural 20 on a d20. See
also Critical, Fumble, Roll.
Non-player character also NPC, Supporting character. Any character
played by the gamemaster, including antagonists. See also Character, Player
Character.
Old school also Old-school renaissance, Old school revival, OSR. A
tabletop roleplaying game meant to capture the feel and style of play
exemplified in early games.
One-shot game A stand-alone adventure not connected to a campaign,
designed to be played in one session. Sometimes used at conventions and
game store demos, as well as “filler” games when not all members of a
group can attend a session. See also Convention game, Home game.
Open Game License also OGL, Open Content. Material released by a
publisher that can be used in the creation of derivative works. The user of
open content must abide by the terms of the license. See also System
Reference Document.
Opposed action A character action that is met with resistance, either
from another character or an obstacle that increases the difficulty of the
task. See also Difficulty, Resolution, Unopposed Action.
Optional rules Published rules that are technically part of Canon but
are not part of the Core rules intended to be used at the discretion of the
gamemaster. These often include character options, equipment, and
adversaries that can be used to customize a setting or campaign.
Out-of-character also OOC. When players are speaking as themselves,
often about rules and group situations, rather than speaking and acting as
their characters. See also In-character.
Out-of-game also OOG. Out-of-character conversations and actions
between players during a game session that do not reflect the events of the
game. These typically occur before or after a session, or during a break, and
not during play. See also Table talk.

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 Party also Adventuring party. A group of player characters. Games
might use terms that reflect the setting and genre, like team for superheroes
or crew for a science fiction starship.
Penalty see Modifier.
Percentile also d%. A d100 roll, achieved by rolling two ten-sided dice
where one die refers to the tens and the other refers to the ones.
Player A real person playing a tabletop roleplaying game. The
gamemaster is technically a player but has a separate role within the group.
Player character A character created and controlled by a player in the
game. See also Character
Player knowledge Something that the player knows that their
character doesn’t, couldn’t, or shouldn’t. It’s considered bad form for
someone to use player knowledge to get their character out of a
predicament. See Metagaming.
Plot hook see Hook.
Problems see Disadvantages.
Race A character’s species, ethnicity, culture, or heredity. Tabletop
roleplaying games sometimes feature fantasy races, aliens, or other
backgrounds as character creation options.
Railroading An adventure that forces the player characters in one
direction, often with one fixed means of achieving the adventure goal.
Railroading is seen as limiting player decisions, making the game more
about the plot than the player characters, and is considered to be bad form
for a gamemaster.
Red herring A clue or piece of information intended to mislead or
distract the player characters. This can be used by gamemasters as an
obstacle as the characters pursue an adventure goal.
Redshirts see Sword Fodder.
Resolution Also Action Resolution, Task Resolution. The method for
determining the success or failure of a character’s actions, and sometimes
the degree of success or failure. See also Difficulty, Drama, Karma, Fiat,
Fortune, Opposed Action, Unopposed Action.
Retcon also Ret-con. Retroactive continuity is a change in canon,
pretending that things have always been a different way. This is an easy way
to fix mistakes, erase contradictions, and streamline complicated bits of
continuity.

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 Roleplay also role-play. Playing the part of a character in a tabletop
roleplaying game. This might involve doing a voice, adopting mannerisms,
or simply describing the character’s actions.
Roll also Check. Resolving a test, usually by rolling dice. See also
Resolution.
Roll-play A derogatory term for players who emphasize their
character’s abilities over playing the character as a person with goals,
motivations, and a personality.
Rolling up see Character creation.
Rules also Game mechanics, Mechanics, System. The way things work in
the game, including character creation, task resolution, and character
improvement.
Rules-as-intended also RAI. An assumption of how the rules are
supposed to work, or what the game designer intended, as opposed to the
way the rules are written. Invoked when something doesn’t “feel” right, or a
particular mechanic isn’t yielding the outcome the players think it should.
See also Fiat, Rules-as-written.
Rules-as-written also By the book, RAW. The rules of the game exactly
as they are presented in canonical material like the core rulebook. This may
vary from the rules-as-intended, what the system was meant to do or how
the game designer wanted things to work. See also Rules-as-intended, Rules
lawyer.
Rules lawyer A player who takes it upon themselves to enforce the
Rules as Written. They feel that fudging or invoking a gamemaster’s caveat is
cheating and therefore unfair. When something is open to interpretation,
they will seek out a canonical example or explanation.
Rules-heavy also crunchy. A tabletop roleplaying game system with a
lot of rules. They often feature a large array of character ability options and
detailed rules for many specific actions. The core rulebooks tend to be quite
large. The oppose of Rules-lite.
Rules-lite A tabletop roleplaying game built around a versatile Core
mechanic intended to be used for everything. Character options and
possible actions are either narrow based on the needs of the setting, or
broad and subject to interpretation based on the context of the scene. Core
rulebooks are quite slim. The opposing of Rules-heavy.
Sandbox A style of play where the gamemaster provides a situation,
and the player characters are free to roam, explore, and pursue their

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interests. There are no set adventure goals, with the emphasis on
exploration and player agency.
Scene A sequence of continuous action, often centered around a set or
event. Many roleplaying games are played in scenes, defined by the
beginning and end of a conversation, an investigation, or the use of a skill.
See also Encounter.
Screen see Gamemaster screen.
Seed see Hook.
Series see Campaign.
Session A single meeting of a tabletop roleplaying group. Each session
typically lasts several hours. See also Group, Home game.
Setting also Campaign setting, World. The fictional world, inhabited by
the characters, where your tabletop roleplaying adventures take place.
Simulationist A term from GNS theory for tabletop roleplaying systems
that emphasize immersion in the setting. See also GNS theory, Gamist,
Narrativist.
Skills Abilities gained through training and honed with experience.
This includes fields knowledge, languages, crafting, operating vehicles,
social skills, and much more. See also Abilities.
Spotlight The focus of the game on a particular character. Every
character should get spotlight time every session to show off their abilities,
explore their subplots, or pursue personal goals.
Statistic see Ability.
Stunt see Advantage.
Sword Fodder also Cannon Fodder, Extra, Goon, Minion, Mook, Redshirt,
Stormtrooper. A non-player character that exists solely to be killed in
combat. They have no names and little detail other than how well they fight
and how much damage they can take.
System Reference Document also SRD. Rules text released under the
Open Game License, usable by anyone to create compatible material. See
also Open Game License.
System see Rules.
Table talk Out-of-character, out-of-game conversations that occur
during play. Often these are side conversations between players who do not
have a character in the active scene. Many gamemasters ban table talk
because it’s distracting, limiting it to before or after a session or during
breaks. See also Out of game.

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 Tabletop The traditional form of roleplaying, taking place while seated
around a table. The term is still used for conversation-driven roleplaying,
even when no table is present.
Target Number see Difficulty.
Template see Class.
Total party kill also TPK. An adventure where all of the player
characters die. This can be the result of poor player decisions, or the
gamemaster creating encounters that are too challenging concerning the
characters’ abilities. In either case, something in-game went wrong.
Trait see Ability.
Troupe style A style of play where there is no single gamemaster, with
narration, rules adjudication, and non-player character roles distributed
among the players. See also Collaborative style.
Universal see Generic.
Unopposed Action Any character action that is met with no resistance.
Often an unopposed action has either a low difficulty or is resolved using
Drama or Karma. See also Difficulty, Opposed Action, Resolution.
Wargames Tabletop miniatures games where one player controls an
army with multiple units, and battles other players’ armies. Dungeons &
Dragons, the first tabletop roleplaying game, was created as a wargame
derivative where each player only controls one unit, i.e. a character.
Weaknesses see Disadvantages.
World see Setting.
Worldbuilding The process of creating a setting. Worldbuilding can
range from putting together some rough ideas to carefully crafting
incredible amounts of detail covering every facet of the game world.
Wounds see Damage.

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