Most people who’ve played D&D have been part of a group that didn’t last for one reason or another. The first session was great and everyone was excited. The characters were cool and the group felt full of possibilities, and then something changed. Maybe people started canceling, or the energy dropped, and then without anyone officially calling it, the group was just done.
I’ve been running D&D since 1980, and in that time I’ve watched groups break up after just a few sessions and others run strong for years. In this article I’ll walk through the biggest reasons D&D groups fail and what both players and dungeon masters can do about it. There’s one ingredient I’ve found that keeps a group together more than anything else, and I’ll get to that at the end.
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Life Gets in the Way
Life happens. Sometimes, no matter how good the intentions of everyone at the table, normal life stuff just keeps getting in the way, and there’s not much anyone can do about it.
I’ve seen groups disband because of marriages and divorces, because people changed jobs or moved to a different city, or because someone had kids and suddenly they barely had time to sleep, let alone get together once a week to play D&D. These are the most common and least surprising reasons a group falls apart, and in some ways they’re the hardest to fight because they aren’t anyone’s fault. Life just changes, and the group doesn’t always change with it.
Finding a Place to Play
Location is something most people don’t think of when it comes to keeping a group together, but it matters more than you’d imagine.
Some people have it easy. They’ve got a house with a big dining room table or a game room in the basement and the door is always open on game night. Others not so much. If you live in a small apartment, or have roommates, or a spouse who has drawn a firm line that D&D cannot happen when they’re home, finding a space that’s consistently available is genuinely difficult. Even a group with great chemistry and real enthusiasm can slowly unravel if they’re constantly scrambling to figure out where to play.
I’ve personally run into this issue more times than I can count, especially when I was younger, but have found some creative ways around it. I’ve talked my employers into letting my group use a conference room after hours, and I’ve rented the community room at the local library up until I became an official volunteer and got to use it for free. I’ve also found that community centers and local game shops will sometimes provide a table for gaming groups if you just ask.
The People Problem
Here’s what I think is the most insidious reason a D&D group fails, and it’s not always predictable in the beginning.
To be blunt, some people are just hard to get along with.
They might be part of the existing friend group, or maybe they’re even a family member. I’ve personally seen a spouse of the DM quietly poison the experience for the entire table, which is socially complicated to address because you can’t exactly vote them off the island. Other times the toxicity creeps in gradually, or tension develops between two players over something that has nothing to do with the game itself.
I ran a group once where two players refused to speak to each other for over a month, and yet both of them kept showing up to every session. The adventure itself was great, but the tension between those two players cast an uncomfortable shadow over the whole table. Eventually, like an intervention of sorts, the one who was the primary antagonist of the two was asked to leave the group.
The Game Has to Pull Its Weight
Now let’s talk about what everyone at the table can actually control, starting with the game itself.
If the adventure is boring or routine, players sometimes have to dig deep and rely on their general love of the game to push through until things get exciting again. Temporary lulls happen. Most players aren’t going to do that indefinitely, though. This falls mostly on the dungeon master’s shoulders, but players have a role here too, no pun intended.
For dungeon masters, I’ll share something I learned from writing four fantasy novels and a murder mystery. The one principle that carries through all of it is that you always want to give your reader a reason to turn the page. They need something that pulls them into the next chapter. A dungeon master should follow the same lesson by ending every session with an unresolved situation or a decision that still has to be made. Give your players a reason to show up next time, and it’s more likely that they will.
For players, make sure your character has something to offer beyond their stat block.
If your half-orc barbarian does nothing but swing their axe at whatever’s in front of them, you’re not necessarily hurting the experience, but you’re not adding much energy to it either, and player energy goes a long way toward keeping the group going.
Consistency and Tenacity
Do your best to find a consistent location and a consistent schedule, because a predictable rhythm does more for a group’s longevity than almost anything else on the logistical side of things. In my experience, it’s better to play less often but on a reliable schedule than to aim for more sessions on a schedule that’s constantly changing. Life sometimes demands flexibility, but consistency gives people something to count on. Don’t let your schedule be a moving target if you can help it.
Set up your group so that if a player can’t make it to a session, the rest of the group can still play.
And then there’s tenacity, which is an unspoken component of group longevity. Playing D&D is a great time, but sometimes it takes willpower to show up when you’re tired or stressed or just not feeling it. I think of it like going to the gym. You may not have the energy, and you may have to talk yourself into it, but once you’re there and you’re into the workout, you’re almost always glad you did it. Don’t let a low-energy week be the reason you skip a session, because skipped sessions have a way of turning into skipped campaigns.
The One Thing That Matters Most
Here’s the ingredient I promised at the start. After running games for over four decades and watching groups succeed and fail, the single thing I’ve seen hold a group together more than anything else is chemistry. I’m not talking about skill or experience, or even having a brilliant dungeon master and a perfectly designed campaign. I’m talking about interpersonal chemistry. Who you play with matters enormously, and it’s okay to be honest about that.
If you love D&D but every session feels like a struggle because of someone’s attitude, find a group where that person isn’t at the table.
If it’s Dave’s attitude that makes you dread showing up, find a group where Dave isn’t participating.
Just like in dating, you’re looking for people who not only share the same love for the game but have a similar way of experiencing it.
We can’t alter the chemistry we have between people, but we can choose which people we’re around.
I’ve played D&D with people I’d never spend time with in any other context because we disagreed on all kinds of things in life, but around the table we were like peanut butter and chocolate. We had the same style, same approach, and same genuine passion for the game. Once we sat down to play, whatever disagreements existed in the outside world stayed outside, because we had gaming chemistry.
Respect, Fairness, Creativity
If you can find a group where people respect each other’s decisions at the table, where the DM is fair and creative and the schedule is something everyone can stick to, you’ve already cleared most of the hurdles that end most groups. And if you’ve got real chemistry on top of that, honestly, count yourself lucky.
Have you found your group’s groove, and if so, what do you think makes it work? Or maybe you’ve been part of a group that fell apart and now you can look back and put your finger on a likely reason why.
