Exchange of Realities

More failure. Surprised?

Plot failure is the largest potential quagmire of the lot; it’s also the kind of failure I assumed when I wrote the post that set off this series. Typically, it results from the GM realizing that events would be much more interesting if if the characters were unable to accomplish a certain task, and then quietly (or not-so-quietly) manipulating events to ensure that the failure occurs. Occasionally, it serves other purposes, such as a way to write out a PC, a way to demonstrate to the group that they did not receive Plot Armor +5 somewhere along the line, or an excuse to transition to a new style within a campaign.

Many plot-failures have their routes in the video game RPGs that so often influence new players. We all remember those sorts of plot-based cutscenes, I’m sure. They’re epic, they’re gorgeous, and they’re plot-necessary, and I can’t give examples without filling the air with spoilers. (Maybe some other post.) But for characters who have their own minds (and higher IQs than many console RPG heroes), come up with a solution that should have bypassed the issue, or in general aren’t the type to stand still for these sorts of things, cutscening is somewhere between an irritation and an insult. There needs to be a reason why it can’t be avoided, or the suspension of disbelief cracks and the accusations of railroading commence.

Now, there are ways to keep people from spoiling your big scenes. One is expectation set up in the beginning of the sequence. If the group knows you’re planning a ghost game or an escape from another world, they’ll spend less of the requisite full-party defeat trying not to fall and more trying to see how epically they can fall. Another, strange though it may seem, is asking for help. Need the group betrayed without anyone seeing it coming? Recruit the player who seems to be closest to figuring out, and work with her to create a reason why she was doing it that will keep her from getting killed by the group when they find out. (This used to happen to me a lot; with my record, I’m surprised the group even considers trusting my PCs!) And it’s not completely unheard of for a more experienced player to suggest ways to legitimately bypass another character’s abilities, even—particularly—her own.

When possible, it’s best to make something that has to happen mechanically overwhelming rather than removed from the mechanics entirely. At least this way, it looks like it was just the dice not cooperating enough, and feels like something could have been done. The catch to this, of course, is how much the dice like laughing at us, and will probably choose then to come up in the best possible combinations. How do you tell someone who’s just landed a natural twenty or rolled double his dice pool in successes that that’s still not good enough?

I try to avoid player irritation by simply not scripting situations like this; I’ll consider the Epic Fail Scene the optimal result, but I’ll allow room to run with one of those rolls. Then again, this is mainly because most of my best plots have come from my players taking my existing plots and breaking them to bits. After a while of seeing the shattered pieces come together into something new and far more impressive than the original, I’ve gotten philosophical, almost welcoming, about it. Your game may vary.

But sometimes it just has to happen, and that’s when mitigation comes in. Tomorrow, we’ll step right into that trap so we can get ourselves out.