As a tabletop RPGer, why do you keep coming back to your favorite games?
So, you’re telling me there’s a chance? “Gimme a roll,” he said handing me a worn velvet pouch filled with dice that had obviously been used many times before. I remember fishing out the twenty-sided and rolling. “Natural twenty,” he stated sounding somewhat surprised. “Your character survives the sting of the poison needle trap protecting the treasure chest.”
That was it, I was hooked. The adrenaline rush was real. I had spent some time imagining this character I had created and even though the investment in real-time was relatively small, I felt a bond with that piece of paper. But eventually, that first character would perish, and I’d go on to create another persona and immerse myself into that character’s in-game success intently. Then another. Then another in another game system. And so, it went on from that day in 1983 to today. Many games, many characters, and a lot of fun.
So, why did I keep going back? Well, we all have our reasons, right? We’re all drawn to these games to satisfy some part of our personality that is curious, playful, and needy. Not needy in a bad way, but needy in a way that satisfies our intellect and emotions in a way that mundane life cannot. A place to be something or someone different than your real self. An expressive place to let your imagination run free and share in a mutual and collaborative creation. Something concrete; maps, game logs, character sheets, and books, but also incredibly delicate and immaterial; the shared and mutual understanding of a world that only exists in the descriptions of the GM and the mutual contributions of the players.
I’ve found that it’s that shared and mutual understanding of a world only visible in our mind’s eye, that keeps drawing me back. I’m fortunate to have found a talented and prolific DM (storyteller, referee, game master, you get the idea) and a consistent troupe of players. For the most part, they are deeply interested in the shared and mutual understanding of the game world that our DM has immersed us in. That is to say, some of us players (me) are more invested in this aspect of the game than others, but all are interested, and all hold the imaginary fabric together in an effort to experience a good story.
Imagine for a moment you’ve finally attained 9th level Fighter, congratulations. You now attract a body of men-at-arms and a small keep. In AD&D, this required 250,000 experience points. Yeah, that’s a lot. That’s a lot of real-time invested. It’s a massive goal achieved. Now, what if your troupe and DM didn’t really value the cohesive fabric of the game? If they lacked the shared mutual understanding of the setting and the imaginary zeitgeist of the story? This achievement would be relatively meaningless. Sure, you attract a small guard of loyal men and a small keep but who cares? The keep is just a footnote and the men at arms cannon fodder. But what if the achievement was expertly incorporated into the setting? What if the players helped flesh out the details by creating their own towers, safe houses, or guild halls within the keep? What if the local baron disapproved of the keep and sent forces to burn it down during construction? What if the lands used to build the keep were on sacred Orc burial grounds, and the orc shaman cursed the new lord and sent the undead into their tents at night?
The difference in enjoyment from the player’s perspective is huge. I can only imagine that the same is true for the GM. They created the setting and when players put in the time and effort to co-create the world with them, the dopamine levels rise, and the pure joy of game-playing is achieved. My advice to you my fellow players is to help the DM create the ‘container’ for which the game is played. Develop your settings, put some permanence to them with player contributions, and have fun.