I apologize for the delay, but let’s get started with another great topic for DM’s and Storytellers: Knowing how to straddle the line between planning and improvisation. You may ask, “But Guru, why shouldn’t I meticulously plan every step of the adventure? That way, my players know they have tons of reliable content ahead of them!” On the other hand, you may ask, “Why shouldn’t I just free-style my entire game? The twists and turns will keep me and my players on our toes.”
Both instances have their merits, and I’ve played in both extremes. This article delves into those experiences, and how I’ve found the most enjoyment and positive feedback by finding the middle-ground.
The Problem with Too Much Planning
If you’re someone who enjoys having a backup to the backup plan, this is probably something you’ve experienced before or are currently experiencing now. Planning certainly has its merits; giving your story the time and attention to flesh out environments, write notes of intrigue for your players to discover, or building a high-stakes encounter are all some of the amazing perks when you’re the storyteller. I remember burning the midnight oil creating a seven-tiered dungeon, with each level based on one of the seven deadly sins. Each sin was displayed in some certain manner, and I was so confident my group would have an unforgettable experience.
Unfortunately, I was right. I had gotten so far inside my own head with the nuances of this dungeon, I never stopped to consider what would happen if my players decided NOT to explore it! When one of my players, let’s call her Elia, mentioned veering off-course to attend a personal mission of hers, I panicked. Not only did I spend so much time preparing for this specific location, but I had no content built yet for Elia’s desired destination. I tossed a roadblock in their way, much to Elia’s chagrin, and led them towards my seven-tiered dungeon.
This, my friends, is what we call railroading; one of the greatest taboos in roleplaying games. Railroading is when a DM presents the illusion of free choice, but secretly forces the players down a particular path to fulfill the needs of his/her story. RPGs, by their very nature, encourage the players to immerse themselves in the roles they’ve chosen and to explore those roles in whatever fashion they choose. By railroading, you tell the player they’re merely an audience member, not an active participant in the narrative. As you can guess, this sucks the enjoyment out of a story pretty quickly.
Sadly, most DMs don’t even realize they’re railroading until an angry player speaks out. It’s understandable to want players to experience the content you’ve created, to enjoy the story you’ve crafted. However, your players and the characters they portray need an agency in the story, they need the ability to directly affect your story and your world with their actions. If they can’t, then why are they playing instead of watching or reading your story?
The Fault with Too Much Free-Style
On the complete opposite side of the spectrum, perhaps you’re the kind of DM who loves coming to the table with a blank slate; you truly let your players take the wheel and see where they take the game. The longer you play, however, the more and more you realize your players are growing restless, or you’re spending too much time researching monsters, traps, or building layouts as the party encounters them. An encounter normally lasting thirty minutes now lasts two hours as you fumble through abilities, or your group’s sorcerer Ignus has to remind you that he killed Zombie #4 two turns ago.
Wholesale improvisation can work in one-shots or short adventures (watch this brilliant example by Matthew Mercer’s on Critical Role). Go any further, and the lack of preparation comes to bite you at every turn. Major inconsistencies begin to pop up and tear your players away from the immersive experience. Once Ignus recognizes the wayward shopkeeper requesting their help is supposed to be on another content thousands of miles away, your credibility as the grand storyteller begins to fall apart.
Striking the Balance
Now that we’ve addressed the problems with going to either extreme, let’s focus on how to meet them in the middle. First, let’s start with planning. If I know the next session is going to be three hours long, I usually plan for a solid five. In this time, I address the following questions:
- What are my players likely to do this session?
- Where are my players likely to go this session?
- Who are my players likely to interact with this session?
- Where do I likely want this session to end?
I create all the NPCs, Maps, environments, and encounters based on my answers to these questions with the understanding my players may not see or utilize everything I create. That’s 100% OK.
Notice how I emphasized the word “likely” above? That’s where my improvisational skills kick in. As long as I have some of the groundwork already established, it easier for me to create believable scenarios or encounters off the cuff. For example, I had built a detailed ambush in a cramped alleyway by my players’ enemy faction based on what I thought they were going to do that session. I had archers poised on the rooftops above, hoping to draw the party to the ambush point. Instead, however, the party held their ground and took out the archers by force. One character, Aldin, then interrogated a surviving archer for information about their organization. Though completely unplanned, I was able to feed Aldin some information about the enemy faction, which led the party into an extensive side mission to find their base of operations in the town. After the session ended, I scrambled to piece together what they might find at the base and how that would impact the larger narrative.
In Summary
It’s okay to make mistakes as long as you own up to them. If you know you’re starting to railroad the story, take a step back and ask your players, “What would you like to do?” Give them a chance to reassert their characters into the narrative and go from there. And if you think the wheels are starting to come off because your improvisation is starting to poke holes in the narrative, tell your players you need more time to prepare the story. No one is going to (rightfully) get upset because you want a little more time to make their experience better.
Finding the balance can be hard, but I promise you it’s what will guide your campaigns better, keep your players at the table, and create some incredible memories. And at the end of the day, that’s the best feeling in the world.
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