Who is Responsible

The following sequence rose from events played in the first days of the Senex Campaign.

This was, in fact, the first day of the first game that I ran online.  It was quite an education for me ~ the players and their approach took me completely by surprise, so much that eventually I was to lose patience with them.

I had run with a wide number of groups between 1979 and 1985 ... but after that, most of my experience was with a very steady group with which I played for another ten years.  Following the break-up of that group in mid '94, which occurred because of job opportunities, marriage and other issues, my gaming became sporadic.  I would get in a running now and then, but probably less than six times a year ... and by 1998, even that stopped.  I would not find a group until 2004 ... which happened because my daughter wanted me to run her and her friends.  I still run that game, even though they are now almost all in their 30s.

During this long separation from the mainstream of the D&D Community, in which I had retained a lot of my original beliefs about the game, the WOTC shifted the rule system in a very different direction.  This created a different kind of player.  What, I am sorry to say, was a very lazy character.  I hope to explain how.

An actual tavern at Rothenburg, only 198 km north by
northwest of Dachau.  So, fairly accurate.

Having rolled up the characters online through the previous week, I decided to start the characters off on the porch of a tavern in the 1650 town of Dachau, some centuries before that town became famous for something else.  As I remember, the players wanted to start in Germany, and I was looking for somewhere wit access to large cities, the mountains, the Black Forest and easy transport by river.

At the time, I had no idea how cliched this idea was; I had not spent twenty years reading hundreds of game modules that included the motif ... and at any rate, I had no plans whatsoever to follow any parts of the cliche except the presence of the tavern itself.

The inn I had in mind was not far from the one pictured, but I did not possess this picture in 2009.  Primarily, I wanted to give the players a home base; a place to sleep, rest, be recognized by the proprietor, who might save them a room while they adventured in the area.  I called the tavern & inn simply "The Pig" and the bartender Helmunt.  I started them sitting in the open air, looking at the square, explaining,

DM: You’re bored. This has been the routine for nearly two months now. You four, Tiberius, Josef, Delfig and Anshelm, met on a cold morning in mid-spring (for the region), finding yourselves all strangers, fairly compatible with one another and equally of the opinion that many of the vicissitudes of life are unappreciated by most. At the moment, however, you could stand a few more changes than there have been.

To my mind, this was to suggest they get off their feet and do something.  If they had sat there for two months and no adventure had presented itself to them, then it should be clear that it was time to make an adventure happen.

This is not how the players read it.  In fact, they made nothing of what I had said about the routine dragging on.  I did not know at the time, see, that D&D players were very used to having everything handed to them on a silver platter.  I had been blogging only nine months.  I had not played in a group with strangers in more than ten years ~ and then only briefly.  So I was unprepared for the response, as I'm sure thousands of DMs are, who think to themselves, "I'm going to run a sandbox adventure."

Delfig: Has anyone visited "das Schwein" that would have given us a reason to think they might have something interesting to talk to them about?  Was anything said/done at the May festival that would have be interesting to follow up on?  Anything interesting in terms of other "strangers" in town?

I'll most likely be idly strumming my lyre and humming, seeing if anyone is interested in a song (and parting with a few coins in appreciation).

Anshelm: Anshelm spits and gestures at the market goers. "Like little rats, out and back to their holes." He reaches for his snuff box.

Anything unusual going on among the merchants and common folk? Any unusual people? Even if it's not unusual, anyone look like their casing the crowd for an easy mark?

Mind, dear reader, that this was all written in text.  I wrote quite clearly, "You could stand a few more changes" ~ and the first two answers I received were, "Have there been any changes?"  It is no wonder that new DMs and experienced DMs are driven to distraction.

I'd like to note, as the game progressed, Delfig and Anshelm proved to be the most diligent and invested of the party; they built good characters, talked in character regularly without chewing the scenery with purple prose, they responded to the twists and turns of the campaign with a strong immersive bent and, on the whole, they were fun to run.  But it took time.

But ... they had been trained by the games of their youth.  Like any modern player, they sat back and expected me to provide a juicy rumor, a convenient stranger, a target for their action ... anything, as long as I did it for them.  This has been an ever-present issue with all the games I've run online, though I think I handle it better now, as I expect it.  At the time I was curt.  I had heard about this nonsense, in comments that had been put to me on the blog for nine months, but I assumed that people willing to run in a game of mine would be aware of my prejudices.

Oh hell, I was rude.

DM: Gentlemen.  This is not a "story" campaign. There's no rule, no plan, no set up. Nothing will be handed to you on a plate. You will have to make a decision about what you, as a group, want to "do" and then set about doing it.  I know you're not used to that. But sadly, there are no "unusual" people.

So there we were.  I had finished my introductory post in and around 8:30 that morning.  By 9:20, I was already beating up the players for expecting me to run a game I had no intention of running.

Of course I felt I was in the right.  It wasn't a matter of "a right way to play," though most I suspect would read the situation that way.  Most view D&D, or any other role-playing game, in the light of any other game.  If our group decides this is a good evening to play Settlers of Catan, naturally we all have a certain expectation for how that game is going to go.  If, as a DM, I egregiously redefine a familiar game, played in a familiar way, by players who have had five or more years of experience, what right do I have to expect others to change?

It brings up a few worthy discussions: how much responsibility does an individual DM have where it comes to running a game in the way that the players expect?  And contrariwise, how much real value does "ten years of playing D&D" have, if it is in a certain type of game, where the DM acts in a certain way, that cannot be translated easily to another DM?

I've come to wonder about things like this in the last ten years, as I have had my consciousness enlightened.  Not as regards to the way I personally desire to play ~ and I have no intention of ever running a game that doesn't fit with my philosophies ~ but in terms of how to present my game, and who to present it too, and how to manage players who are clearly not a good fit with that game.

At the time, however, I was not prepared how fixed players were on being serviced by the DM.  Each of these replies came long enough after my above rudeness to ensure the players had time to read what I said.

Josef: I'll ask Helmunt the next time he comes to the table if he knows of any legends or rumors of the town or vicinity where profit might be gained by adventurers such as ourselves.

Tiberius: "Gentlemen," Tiberius says while taking a slow swig of his drink. "We're all bored. No disrespect to our fine patron for the free beer, of course." Tiberius salutes the owner. "But, why don't we hire ourselves out to one of those merchants and see if we can't see some real action?"

Anshelm: "Eh, why shouldn't we? It's better than chasing errant rats back to their hiding holes. Should we wait for friend Kazimir?"  Anshelm continues scanning the market crowd while speaking.  "Not sure I like the look of any of 'em, though..."

Delfig: Nods to himself as he remembers a request. He digs in his pouch, fishes out four silver and tosses it to Josef.  "I know I'll see that again... especially when we get off our collective asses and start seeing what we can see. Lets wander about and see what is happening."  With that, Delfig will stand and start walking about the marketplace, strumming his lyre. If any seem interested, he'll greet them and play a bit if they seem interested. He makes sure to approach the various merchants, nods and smiles and calls out a friendly greeting. If any seem inclined to talk, then he'll start a conversation with them, inquiring to any local news or if they have any sort of interesting work.

Take note how deeply ingrained is this notion that I am going to create an adventure and give it to them.  In spite of my admonishment, every one of the four above came up with a slightly more subtle way of asking the same request: "Please give us an adventure."

Josef decides that the problem is that the party is asking the DM; perhaps if he asks the bartender instead, he'll get the answer I've just told him he's not going to get.

Tiberius suggests taking a job, which will take the party presumably to somewhere where something ~ planned by me ~ will happen.  They'll "see."  Seeing is passive.  It's a waiting game.

Anselm agrees ... and makes reference to something else I did not know at the time was a cliche: the notion that if a party has nothing else to do, they can wander around a city killing giant rats.  I understand why this doesn't appeal.  Plainly, many a sandbox DM has "offered" this as an option to bored parties, looking to make their own adventure.  Bleh.  Waiting and seeing definitely is a better choice.

Then Delfig goes all out.  Instead of getting a job, they'll wander around and "see."  As a bard, he hopes his lyre will draw some sort of attention.  Perhaps a passing merchant might approach the party.  And know if there is anything strange and interesting going on.

In real time, a full day goes by before I answer.  I remember deciding that it wouldn't do any good to repeat myself, and that the right tactic would be to let the world & game dictate the limitations on what the party could or could not do.

Right off, the bard is only first level.  Dachau is a town of almost 4,000, so Delfig is obviously not the best musician around ... and so I gave him the same treatment that any ordinary busker would get if walking about a downtown core, pestering business folk:

DM: People show a vague interest in Delfig; but of course, they've seen him before, doing exactly this most every day, and frankly, there are better bards in the town.

Then I set about hinting (using the bartender Helmunt) that before Tiberius and the rest could hope to be guards for a caravan, they would have to get themselves bonded.  Why would merchants, transporting their livelihood along dangerous roads, take on total strangers that might steal the cargo themselves?  How does that make any sense?  At this point (among questions and answers surrounding the party trying to create something or get themselves noticed), Tiberius asks the right question.

Tiberius: What do we have to do to get bonded to the merchant's guild? Can Helmunt get us an introduction to someone over there?

DM: To get bonded, you must have a merchant of the guild vouch for you.

Delfig [to Helmunt]: "Of course we're bonded! We will inquire with the guild, my good man."

After guiding Tiberius away, I would say "Perhaps we should inquire to the merchants guild and see about becoming 'bonded' since such things have escaped any of our attention. While you and Josef do that, perhaps Anshelm and I can move to the northern road and see what we can see. We'll meet here in a couple of hours if we don't hear from you."

If I don't hear that exchange, then I'll go looking for my mates and make a similar suggestion.

Couple of setting questions - Are there more than one guild of merchants? Do any larger merchants have homes established here that we would know about? Where could we find notices of news or other things going on, aside from rumor and listening at the drinking holes? (I am trying to think like a bored medieval bard in Dachau).

This is most promising.  The party has correctly identified the problem and has some notion that it is a problem that can be solved.  This is not me handing them an adventure; this is a recognition that the party lacks a certain status that they want.  Good.

I'll stop for a moment and address the philosophy that as a DM, I could easily make this a much easier situation for the party by saying YES instead of NO to the party's ideas.  This is true.  I could have easily had the party spy some stranger robbing passersby, so that the party could go after the thief, starting the adventure.  I could have easily said that a stranger was taking a room at The Pig, creating all sorts of descriptions of why the stranger was concerning, allowing the party to approach the stranger in order to find out what was up.  And that could definitely have started an adventure.  I could have had a businessman walk up to the bard, to say, "You play well, will you come play at the wedding of my daughter?  We can't get a musician because she's marrying a dwarf, and everyone around here considers that appalling," thus setting up a scene of violence at the wedding.

I could have created All Sorts Of Adventures for the party to follow, and started the campaign off with a bang.  Just as it is constantly touted as the only way to run a game, by virtually everyone who will tell you that your job as DM is to have something exciting happen to the party, to win their attention and make them interested.

Thus you should never, as I did, say No.  You should not deny them instant gratification for any scheme they might invent off the cuff, such as I did.  You shouldn't require that they get someone's approval before becoming, say, guards of someone else's treasure ~ surely you, as a store owner, would never hesitate to hand over the store's keys to a stranger you just hired that morning, without first checking up on them, right?

This thinking has been encouraged by DMs who find themselves faced with players who expect to hear, "Yes," no matter what they propose.  As the players approach every game with the philosophy, stand around and surely something will happen, the responsibility has been rolled onto the DMs shoulders to make something happen.

I disagree ... and saying so, I warn any DM who tries to stand on my side of the fence isn't going to have an easy time of it.  Players don't want to be responsible for their own adventure.  Most players don't know HOW to be responsible ... and it can irritate, exacerbate and drive away players who are particularly weened on the dictate, "The DM is responsible for the players having a good time." That is the way most of the role-playing community plays and that is the advice most of the role-playing community gives.  The Gentle Reader will find that disagreeing with that dictate can produce quite a lot of blow-back.

But there are things to be gained by playing the reverse, arguing that the Player is responsible for the Player having a good time [notice how much more that reflects most arguments about how responsibility works].

Whatever the adventure is, however it plays out, however much the players lose or gain from their risk or idea, the players know who deserves the praise.  It's them.  They took the risks, they had the idea, they played it through and they won or lost.  Which they can do so proudly, with head held high, knowing that they had their hands on the stick all the time.  This makes victory sweeter; it makes failure more comprehensible and tolerable.  It educates.  It creates a pattern of thinking that enables the player to feel the thrill of personal ambition and achievement.  It is their win.  No one else can lay claim to it.

As DM, I didn't give them the win.  However I might have set up the playing field, every choice was the players' to make and they won't fault me unless I am clearly playing to block them.  I never play this way.  I play to make my obstacles reasonable and rational.  They want to be bonded by the merchant's guild.  Well, that's not hard.  All they need is a friend who is a merchant.  Surely, they can find one such friend, or make one such friend.

The "Yes" argument is that I should produce a friend and give it to them.  But how is that an accomplishment?  How is that "play?"  Rationally, the players should have to play for a friend.  Figure out what to do to bring a single merchant into their camp ... and figure it out on their own, without my giving it to them.

Unfortunately ... and you may presume I put several exclamation points after that ... players who are not skilled, or adapted, or have the expectation of doing for themselves are apt to take actions that are, shall we say, bad.  The reader can see what I mean by reading the Senex resources as they become available.

And we shall talk about that with the next post.

The Decision Quandary

The following sequence rose from events played between May 2 and May 3, 2012

Prior to these events, the party had just fought a 31-round battle against an excessive number of kobalds (I've forgotten exactly, I believe more than 80), with the help of 21 dwarves and a non-player hireling, Klaas.  As shown in the image below, made when my art abilities were somewhat less than what they are now, this led them to a storage room, filled with sacks of grain, barrels of beer and buckets of pitch.

Image indicates positions after investigating the orange colored storeroom, upper left.

Following the usual after-combat discussions about searching bodies, collecting weapons, splitting loot, designating search groups, setting up watches, the party descends into the storeroom with an eye to searching it.  Throughout this time, the party is asking questions, describing their actions and at the same time, "role-playing."  This last describes the pattern of expressing how they feel about the last fight, their emotions about finding loot and treasure, supporting each other's participation and various other elements that any DM will recognize from having run a few games.  At some point I should write a commentary on this sort of thing, but the example here is fairly confusing due to a lot of other references and so it is a situation I can discuss at another time.

So instead, let's pick up the story as Andrej the Cleric casts a detect malevolence spell, then ventures towards the cavern that is shown in blue, to the left of the storeroom:

DM: From 2605 you can't see much - There is some kind of large cavern between where 2303 and 2305 slopes down. And just for a moment Andrej catches sight of a ... wing. It extends out into Andrej's line of vision and then disappears again. The wing appeared to be about the size of a bedroll.

Andrej: Bat-like? Bird-like? ::gulp:: Dragon-like?

DM: Correct answer ~ ::gulp::

Normally, the correct manner in which such a disclosure should be managed is not to blatantly state the case; this builds up tension and intrigue, while maintaining the strict access to information that the character should have.  In order to learn more about what the wing belongs to, the players should have to actually enter the cavern, letting their imaginations feed their fear.

However, here we are talking about a dragon.  My personal feeling is that, given the name, a full-grown dragon should be the scariest, most powerful monster in the game, short of a demi-god.  I've written rules for that purpose.  The practical and terrifying aspect of meeting such a creature is, therefore, more than sufficient to establish all the fear and stress that we could possibly want.  As a DM, because the players are only 3rd or 4th level here (Lukas is 1st, but realizes he is 2nd after the Kobald's experience is passed around), I'm not anxious to force them into the cavern, as though they are fighting another group of mere kobalds.  I created the description of the wing specifically to serve as a warning, to give the players foreknowledge ~ and it worked because the player jumped on the detail perfectly.  Letting the player be right in this instance serves to give them a little confidence; knowing what's in front of them, they can prepare and plan to face it.

Even though it is a very small dragon, they need confidence.  Note the immediate reaction from the other two players:

Ahmet the Fighter [upstairs and quite a long way away]: Ahmet resolutely guards the door. Good luck down there fellas!

Lukas the Mage [in the storeroom]: I guess dragons are one way to keep the beer cold. And they would probably do a fair job of keeping kobolds in line. Tell you what, Andrej you distract it while I thaw out this pitch ...

Andrej: Yeah, I'll get right on that.

When you're DMing, keep conscious of this sort of exchange.  It gives a lot of information.  Some parties might respond with something like "oh, shit," and a DM might be tempted to think the above is exactly the opposite of that.  In fact, it's the party has probably reacted just like you expect only they feel compelled to make a joke, cover up their concern and emotionally separate themselves from what's happening.  They've been hit hard by the information and they're "dealing with it."

Of course, that can go too far.  A party that starts with a joke or two can quickly fall into a massive derailment of the game for several minutes, which can manifest as a) more jokes; b) mockery of the DM, or c) actual anger.  It's important with these things to understand what is going on in the mind of the player.

If there are more jokes, these can usually be allowed to run their course.  When the players are done, they'll still have to deal with the existence of the dragon, so that the desired tension of the situation will naturally reassert itself.  If at all possible (and it won't be easy), the DM can keep quite a lot of control over the situation by not taking part in the jokes.  It's a good time to watch the players react, consider in your mind what's coming next, remain cool and calm and detached, staring at them like a doctor would at a collection of asylum patients.  The more serious you remain, the more impact the situation will have, even as the players are making jokes.

Some players will, as a means of getting control over a DM, as a matter of gamesmanship, blurt out a statement like, "Oh, RIGHT!  You would throw a dragon at us, wouldn't you?  Like that isn't obvious!"  The trick here is to make you, the DM, feel that you are somehow incompetent because you've reached for a dragon to occupy this cavern rather than some other more interesting monster, or at least one more acceptable to the player.  Note that the stipulation may not be so overt; there are a hundred subtle ways in which a player can make their personal sense of injustice known, from adopting a silent, cold shoulder response to subtle, verbose references to how many hit points the character has left or how many fights they've been forced to participate in without an opportunity to rest.  However delicate, however, any argument that steps out of the character's perspective of the problem (what the character sees, what the character can manage, what the character will do) and into the realm of Player-vs.-DM (sometimes called the meta-game) is a red flag.  The DM cannot allow a player to become emotionally, personally manipulative without jeopardizing the DM's authority.

This does not mean the DM can land with both feet on the player.  Very often, this will enable the player to adopt an attitude of victimhood, putting the DM in the position of having to defend an aggressive behaviour against an attitude that is certain to be completely below the radar of other players.  YOU may be aware of the distinction between a character complaining about the dragon and the player complaining about the dragon; but chances are, the other players won't.  The best thing to do is to take a strong, firm stand, state the presence of the dragon (or other thing) as established and incontestable, make a mental note about the player and decide, in time, if the player should be allowed to continue playing.  In any case, any specific discussions about the player's attitude should be had one-on-one, without any other players present.

On the other hand, if the player does get angry, answering the presence of the dragon with a direct "Fuck you" at the DM, that can be handled at once. Of course, the expression might be a joke; it might be an absent-minded stress response that can, and should be utterly ignored.  A spontaneous, burst-out emotion is human.  If it becomes an extended rant, however, you have a problem player on your hands and you should deal with it at once.

To wrap this up, remember also that a friendly, joking exchange is also a sign of a party acting and thinking together, in a very positive, constructive way.  By sharing some emotional jokes, they prop each other up and serve as a joint support system for everyone participating.  If a moment of stress does get this sort of response, all the participants present ~ DM and Players ~ are actively creating a great interactive and immersive experience.

Let's pick up the narrative again:

Andrej: For the sake of thoroughness, does Andrej's Field of Study & specialty: Legends & Folklore (Legendary Beasts) provide any insight or confirmation to his suspicions that this is a white dragon?

Lukas: Actually that may be more possible a plan than I thought. Do you think warming one cubic feet of pitch by 22 degrees might be enough to make it viable?

At once, I have found that when faced with an unusual threat, parties will seek to innovate at the highest level possible.  Breath weapons are egregious and thus demand maximum effort.  That said ... it must be said that a party can get, well, a bit desperate.  Having seen no more than a wing, and having the DM confirm that it is a dragon, and knowing the chamber is full of ice, the player wants confirmation on their suspicions and unfortunately, I can't really give that.  Even if the player knows exactly what a white dragon looks like (and the sage ability here provides reasonable assurance there), that doesn't mean the character is able to recognize this dragon as a white one.  But I always do my best to make the questions seem reasonable:

DM: A white dragon seems a reasonable guess ... but it might also be an ice lizard.

Looking it up, you'd have to increase the pitch to at least 60 degrees C to soften it, and at least 80 to 125 degrees C to liquify it (and even then it wouldn't stay liquid for long). At present, the pitch is about 2 degrees C ... so I'm afraid the answer is no.

Andrej: Given the amount of wing that Andrej saw, could he estimate how large the creature is?

In the exchange that follows, about dragon physics and the size of dragon wings [which I won't reproduce here] the player proceeds to answer his own question.  At any case, since a dragon is full-grown at a very young age (like a horse), knowing the size alone is not sufficient to knowing how dangerous a dragon is.  The general discourse reveals nothing whatsoever about the dragon's size, so it wastes a little time ... but that, too, is part of the game.

It can be annoying if this kind of discourse seizes every action and discourse between Players and DM, but it is almost impossible to eradicate from a game where misunderstandings proliferate like bunnies.  Players need to have things explained ... and in a case where a dragon crops up, the stakes are raised to the point where the explanations need to be sharp as razors.

Next comes the needful discussion:

Andrej: Assuming we're now all back together... what do you guys think? Do we try the unlocked door or fight a dragon? 

On the one hand, we don't know how tough the creature truly is, the terrain is slippery and likely to foul us up, the entrance to its cave is a single-file bottleneck and we're already depleted from ravaging a tribe of kobalds. Further, it's not really impeding our progress at all we can simply bypass it and focus on the keep, so there's no good reason to attack it.

On the other hand, it's a big lizard.

Ahmet: As much as Ahmet would love to tangle with a dragon, I vote to bypass it. We have a mission. When we slay the Bishop and all get healed, we can come back to play with the lizard.

Andrej: One vote to bypass. Lukas?

This is fairly usual stuff ~ and most DMs would leave the party to it, without jogging their elbow.  I am not of that sentiment, however.  I'm anxious to ensure that information the party won't think of is neatly drawn to their attention ... and at the same time, the conversation they're having is in front of a group of dwarven NPCs, the leader of whom is Frith.  Naturally, if the party wants to fight the dragon the dwarves will be involved, and therefore Frith is going to want a say:

Frith: Did you see if it has a means of escaping the tunnels?  Could it fly out and attack the forces storming the castle?

I suppose I should explain that all this is deep in the bowels of a mountain upon which a castle stands, way above the party's position.  The party has found a back way in; and has the help of the dwarves, because the commander of the assaulting force assigned the dwarves to the party.  So, technically, Frith's loyalty is split; he is there to help the party, kill the denizens under the castle and risk his life, and the life of his men, if need be; but he is also concerned what he might be unleashing on the forces that are on the surface.  An angry dragon strafing the castle's attackers is not to be requested.

These are my ONLY motivations for inserting the dwarf's question.  I am not trying to manipulate the party at all; but the party is not acting inside a vacuum. The presence of the dwarves is as much a part of the world that the party is navigating as are the kobalds, the storage room and the dragon.  If the party takes on the benefit of the NPCs, they must also take on responsibilities to the motivations of those NPCs.

I do see how easy it is to force the party to act in a particular way, by using the dwarves as leverage.  However, part and parcel with this is the recognition that the dwarves would not be assigned to these players by the commander unless the commander cared about the well-being of Ahmet, Andrej and Lukas.  Which is the case.  Earlier in the campaign, they performed a service to the commander which has not been forgotten.

Back to the debate:

Lukas: Furthermore, who is to say it [the dragon] won't just squeeze in behind us at an inopportune moment?

Ahmet: [said out of campaign: you guys are gluttons for punishment]. Ahmet's eyes twinkle at the opportunity to slay a dragon. Can he think of any reason, from a mining/underground perspective, as to the purpose of the pitch?

DM: Cash value? Stored for use in repairing holes?

Players almost always assume that everything that exists in a dungeon or an adventure was put there specifically because it forms some key, integral part of the adventure.  This is the result of a literary principle, commonly described as "Chekhov's Gun":

• "Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there."

This is excellent advice when creating any sort of literary structure; it simply isn't necessary to bore a reader with extraneous information that wastes the reader's time.  The key to good literature is to fit the various details together in a way the reader will not immediately understand, thus creating uncertainty in tension.

Because video games aspire to the respectability of literature, they will also adhere to Chekov's rules.  However, an open-world game, such as an expansive video game or a role-playing game, doesn't need to fit into the narrative of a 120-minute theatre piece, or even an 11-hour audio book.  Real life does not adhere to Chekov's rules ... at all.  Real life is filled with all sorts of extraneous, useless bits of things and information that are just there.  In my game, I don't concoct all the details of a given structure as though the players were the only inhabitants.  Sometimes, pitch is collected in piles because the surrounding lands are a forest, and it is convenient to store pitch in a cool place, where it hardens ~ like deep under a castle.

In the narrative, Andrej admits to seeing no other exit in the cavern; using the spell to find the dragon, he did not stick around to visually map the room.  There then follows a discussion about healing salves (hit points being an important detail at this point).  The central debate goes on in between talk about the salves:

DM: Frith will tell Batath to take two dwarves and to have a look at the cave, to take no action but to see all he's able to see. Batath chooses Salth and Balther.

As a military man, Frith is concerned about reconnaissance, while the party talks.

Lukas: I bet fire dragons find pitch like taffy. I prefer to imagine them getting it as a dragon treat before they got a frost dragon. I also like to believe frost dragons are both fond of potatoes and beer. If we're lucky maybe it's a vegetarian?

Andrej: While the dwarves scout, Andrej samples some small amount of beer from one of the barrels in hex 2603 with his wooden mug. If sufficiently tasty he fills the mug and passes it to Lukas. Might as well die happy.

DM: Beer tastes like Isenbeck Pilsener.

Batath will return to explain that there are three entrances to the cave; 2304, just beyond 2307, and past 2209. They're all five feet wide, and they all have a slope but no stairs. It does appear to be a dragon - white and blue in color. There is an enormous tunnel leading out of the roof. The cave is covered in ice and is about 40 x 40 feet.

Batath could identify gold and other metals buried under mounded, crystal blue ice.

Now, there I am indulging in a little coercion.  I very definitely want the party to understand that there is treasure in that room, as an enticement.  Treasure hasn't been mentioned; but at the same time, these are experienced players and they all know that there is bound to be treasure in the chamber.  Still, rubbing that in won't hurt.

I must admit I don't understand Lukas' observations above.  I have to ascribe them to a certain resistance to taking the proposed risk.  Note that Andrej is quite direct about the existence of the risk in all his comments; but he seems to be asking for someone else to make the decision.  Ahmet also wavers back and forth, deliberately avoiding the actual question.  And Lukas repeatedly takes notice of details that are quite unimportant.

I'm quite sure at this point that if I had the dwarves decide to throw themselves into a fight with the dragon, the players would join in.  It is almost like the players are asking me to do that, rather than putting them in the position of saying yay or nay, or having to ask the dwarves to join them.  See the dialogue below as evidence (still between discussion of healing themselves):

Andrej: [discussing the beer]  Ah, Paderborn's own. His excellency has good taste, at least. Lukas, you must have some. Pass it along.

Ahmet: Bring on the wyrm!

Andrej: Andrej asks Batath his opinion on the footing in the cave. Could our force engage in melee there without falling on our asses? Also, we should revisit the pitch idea ...

Finally, we should also at least peek behind the large door we have yet to open before we decide upon any course of action. Is Frith willing to send dwarves to scout that as well?

Ahmet: Ahmet, as a good quasi-Muslim, declines any offers of beer. In the meantime, he retrieves his heavy crossbow from Klaas and "two-thirds" loads it, so it will take one more round to load it and then can be fired the second round.

DM: Batath is sure the force will slip around on the floor - then has an inspiration. If the pitch could be at least softened to the point where it could be scraped from the surface, perhaps it could be applied to boots to make them sticky.

It is quite easy to get frustrated as these discussions spin out.  I wish I had not had the thought of applying the pitch to boots to make them sticky; after a moment's searching, I soon realized that it was utterly impractical.  I'm sure that my frustration at the lack of a decision here ~ or even recognizing that a decision needed to be made ~ was at play.

Note that at no time does Ahmet definitely seek a consensus from anyone else, even as he is loading a crossbow (as though the decision was made).  Note Andrej's desire to review the pitch "idea," though in fact no idea exists, except for my lame one, put in the mouth of one of the NPCs.  At least I can ascribe the idea to the NPC's ignorance [thank you].

As regards to the large door that Andrej mentions, they haven't got that door open yet, nor are they sure they can get it open.  Some dwarves go to look at it.  The party discusses intoxication, I concoct some rules that will give hit points and reduce ability stats (I have some pretty solid rules for intoxication on the wiki, that didn't exist in 2012) and I explain the pitch idea won't work.  The discussion continues.  Ahmet makes no further comments about readying himself for a fight.   I reveal that the door can be opened easily, so the party doesn't need to fight the dragon.  There's some discussion of getting the hireling, Klaas, intoxicated, as he's very low on hit points.  The dragon is mentioned.  There's more discussion about the beer, and it's possible intoxicating effects.

Finally, after a long going around, hardly discussing the dragon at all, Andrej brings up the subject again.  Here are snippets of his one-man discussion, until Ahmet answers him:

Andrej: Leaving dwarves behind might not be an option, but if Frith is agreeable I'm now suddenly worried about having enough of a force for the dragon. It's probably quite young (I hope) but still dangerous, particularly with Alexis's mass rules, incidental damage, stunning and the terrain.

By comparison, our aborted and ill-conceived rush at the front gate seems saner in my view.Now that I've had time to consider it more I think your initial idea regarding Klaas is best. Have him man the crossbow. I just wanted to peek behind the door, not tie somebody to it.

Alexis, a Bless spell helps bolster morale... would this help a player-character make a fear check? Description below [see wiki]

As part of our preparations Andrej conducts a short mass and blesses all Catholics, including himself. That would be Lukas, Klaas (I believe), Andrej and that's it unless there are Catholic dwarves. Andrej mentions aloud that if Zoft has a blessing he's been saving, now might be the time to apply it.

Finally, don't forget we have 6 flasks oil with rags in them unless the dwarves somehow used more than the three they were allotted. Andrej used only one then abandoned that tactic after nearly setting a pyramid of dwarves on fire. I intend to make my first attack with the oil. Anybody else?

This is not the first time I have found myself waiting for the exchange that says, ~"Are we fighting the dragon" ~"Yes, we are fighting the dragon."  In one moment, Andrej expresses his misgivings; then immediately after talks about the bless spell; then what he's going to do first when he attacks. But as yet, there is no consensus.  Nor does it come when the others answer:

Ahmet: After we peek, I would like to quickly erect some kind of temporary barricade against the door, if we can arrange it.  Are you SURE you just don't want to bypass the baby dragon? It just seems suicidal given the terrain. It's like the otyugh, but with a breath weapon.  And even if we inflict some damage on it -- it's just going to fly away.

Andrej: If it flies away we've weakened it at least... and we have its treasure! I'm not determined to see it dead, Ahmet, but Frith and Lukas seemed to be. I'm willing to give it a shot.

Lukas: Avoiding may not help, like I said, it might just come up behind us. Though torching it then shooting until it walks through the inferno might help.

Let me be clear.  This is all perfectly understandable, however difficult it may be to follow the logic of each player.  Everyone wants to fight the dragon.  Being the level they are, no one wants to die.  There's no certainty that it's my intention for the party to fight the dragon; I might have made the dragon dreadfully strong, so that I could say afterwards, "You had the choice not to fight it."  Many DMs play that way.

I would not say that I had balanced the dragon for the party.  I had, largely, balanced the dragon for the party plus the dwarves; altogether, they would have probably been able to take the dragon on and kill it.  That doesn't mean that individuals wouldn't have died.  Nothing guarantees that all of the player characters would have made it, or indeed any of the player characters.  But this is what risk is. It is taking the chance to see what would happen if the dragon was fought.  I definitely did not include the dragon as a yes/no choice: fight the dragon and die, avoid the dragon and live.  Personally, I find that an abhorrent way to run any adventure.  The answer should ALWAYS be, fight the dragon and find out what happens, avoid the dragon and find out what happens.

The party did not fight the dragon.  In the end, moments before the fight, the party chose to take advantage of my interactive mechanic at the time (now mostly, but not entirely, dead) to parley with the dragon.  They make a deal with the dragon, provide it with some of the beer and some recently dead kobald bodies (which it was fed from time to time), and in exchange receive the security that the dragon is not going to follow along behind them ~ which it couldn't anyway, as it could not even reach the beer in the storeroom.

As a result, the party took virtually no risk.  And received, in turn, virtually no benefit, except peace of mind.  No risk, no reward.  That's how it ought to work.

The players are trapped, however, in trying to figure out my motivation for putting the dragon there ... when really, they shouldn't be.  The dragon serves no actual purpose!  But years and years of playing games where every nook and cranny serves a purpose gets into a player's head, to the point where they can't boil the problem down to its first principles.  Can we fight the dragon?  Do we want to fight the dragon?  Are we going to fight the dragon?  And if so, how?  And ultimately, when?

All other discussion is human resistance to the problem, whether it is distrust of the DM, uncertainty of their own abilities, fear, inability to be decisive or simple mistrust of the other players.  Any of these can short-circuit a party's ability to act ... and that in turn can spin out a single session into a great deal of purposeless talk.

At some point I should have suspended all discussion except answering the questions I've just asked.  But I wanted to let the party work it out on their own; which has its own value.  The players must learn to act without being coddled by the DM.  But the above is what can happen if players are left alone.  That is sometimes how it must be.  There is no right answer.  We can, however, examine, deconstruct and understand what is happening, to make ourselves better prepared to manage it.

This quandary can be one of the most difficult problems a DM has to face.