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    Tips, strategies, and hard-won wisdom for DMs and players who want to run better games and have more fun doing it.

    What DM Guides Leave Out (And How I Filled the Gap)

    Becoming a Dungeon Master is intimidating. You’ve got a table full of players counting on you to run a good game, and no matter how much you’ve read, there’s a voice in the back of your head wondering if you actually know what you’re doing. Most new DMs feel that way. I did too. The question is where you go to close that gap.

    Here’s why I think this is important.

    A while back I met a D&D player who’d been playing the game for many years and wanted to become a DM. They’d sat at the table of some good DMs, and thought, I want to do that, too. They did the predictable thing and read the published dungeon master guide, but they still didn’t feel ready. So I mentored them for a while, and somewhere in that process I realized there was a gap between what’s published and what a new DM needs before they run their first game.

    The published guides are adequate at telling you what to do, but they don’t tell you much about why things work and what happens when they don’t. Essentially, they give you knowledge but no wisdom.

    Knowledge is what you get from the published DMGs. Wisdom is what you get from years of experience. So how does a newbie DM cover that gap and get the wisdom they need if they don’t have an experienced DM to mentor them?

    That’s why I wrote a DMs guidebook that covers that gap.

    → Purchase it in my Shop, or if you prefer, you can get it at DriveThruRPG.

    The Value of DMing Experience

    If you’re a regular on my blog or YouTube channel, you’ve probably noticed that I spend a bit more time on the philosophical side of DMing than I do on the nuts and bolts. That’s deliberate, because the nuts and bolts are already covered pretty well in the published guides. What isn’t covered is the advice that comes from having made a bunch of mistakes and learning their lessons.

    I’ve been DMing since 1980, and I mention that to make the point that it isn’t the number of years, it’s what those years of experience can produce.

    Here’s what I mean by that. A published dungeon masters guide, if you’re lucky, might tell you to be flexible at the table, which is good advice. But it can’t tell you what it actually feels like the first time your carefully planned session falls apart in the opening ten minutes because your players decided to do something you never anticipated. It can’t tell you what to say or how to keep breathing through it, or how to recognize that what just happened might actually be better than what you planned.

    That kind of understanding doesn’t come from reading something from a big-name publisher owned by a toy company. It comes from being there, and then being there again, and again, until it stops feeling like a crisis and starts feeling like a normal part the job.

    If you’re new to DMing, or you’re thinking about it and feeling a little overwhelmed by everything you don’t know yet, that feeling is completely normal. Every DM started there. The question is just whether you have someone to help you through it, and most new DMs don’t.

    Lessons Learned the Hard Way

    I’ll give you an example of what I mean. Early in my DMing career I was running a campaign I was pretty proud of. It had a complex and interesting story, I knew the really cool places it would lead the players, and I was determined to get them there. Do you see where this is going?

    The problem was that my players had other ideas. They went off in a direction I hadn’t planned for, making choices that didn’t fit the story I was trying to tell, and I freaked out trying to steer them back in some not-so-subtle ways.

    What I was doing is called railroading, and I drove that campaign straight into a wall. The players got frustrated and I got frustrated and the campaign fell apart. What I learned from that experience is something no dungeon master guide ever spelled out for me: your job isn’t to tell a story, it’s to create the conditions for one to happen. The moment you start protecting your plot from your players, or driving them into it, you’ve already lost.

    I could have benefited from someone teaching me that lesson before I learned it the hard way.

    Managing Stress and Creative Energy

    I also learned a lot from another DM named Ryan, who I played with for a few years. We were part of a group that played every Friday night after work, which is tough on its own because our brains were already fried by the time we sat down at the table. To handle the load, Ryan and I would trade places as DM every few months. While one of us ran the game, the other played. It kept us both from burning out, and it gave each of us a regular reminder of what it feels like to be on the other side of the screen. I was surprised at how much I learned about being a DM by being a player.

    Neither of us read that solution in a book, though. We figured it out because we were paying attention to what the job was actually doing to us, and we had each other to get through it. Most DMs don’t have that benefit, either.

    Why Create a DMs Guidebook?

    Those two stories, along with a lot of others like them, are what my DM’s guidebook is built from. It’s organized around the three main things a DM actually does: prep your adventures, run the game, and manage everything that ties them together. This includes player dynamics, logistics like how to find a group and a location to play, and yes, how to keep yourself from burning out while doing it.

    A guidebook can only go so far in replicating what it’s like to get mentored by someone who’s been there and done that. But that’s what I’ve tried to do here as best I can, to share not just what works but why it works, what the failures looked like, and what they were worth in the end. The goal was to put something in your hands that gets as close as possible to having a mentor in the room with you.

    If you’re a new DM, or thinking about becoming one, you can get my guidebook in the Shop. There’s also a free ten-page sample available here.

    Making D&D Combat Fun: Every Person at the Table Has a Role to Play

    Here’s something that’s been true at my table since 1980. D&D combat is the moment everyone looks forward to, and it’s also the moment most likely to go completely sideways. It’s not because the dice are cruel, though they can be. It’s because nobody’s quite sure whose job it is to make the fight actually good.

    The short answer is: it’s everybody’s job.

    Players and DMs alike make combat worse without realizing it, and players and DMs alike can make it fun, too.

    This article covers both sides of that.

    What Players Do to Kill the Energy

    Let’s start with players, because that’s the half of the table that usually gets a pass on this.

    When it’s not your turn in combat, what are you doing? If you’re honest about it, the answer for a lot of players is: checking your phone, talking to the person next to you, or staring at your character sheet trying to remember how much damage Magic Missile does. And then your turn arrives and you need thirty seconds to get reoriented to the situation before you can even start deciding what to do.

    That’s the first thing players do that makes combat drag. It’s not malicious and many people are quick to say that’s the DM’s fault. But for a lot of players, it’s become a bit of a habit. Combat should be a shared experience unfolding in real time, not a sequence of individual turns you wait through until yours comes up. Pay attention to what everyone else is doing. Watch how the monster reacts. Think about what you’re going to do before your turn arrives. The table moves faster and the fight feels more alive when every player is engaged in all of it, not just their own action or movement.

    The second thing players do to drain the energy out of combat is treat it as a solo performance. You pick the most optimal action for your character in isolation, execute it, and hand the turn back to the DM. It’s essentially acting like a solo star without concern for what else is going on around the table, or how your character’s actions impact the party’s goals.

    D&D combat was designed to be a group sport. When players coordinate, it’s not just effective, it’s a lot more fun. When the rogue asks the paladin to shove the hobgoblin captain prone so she can use her sneak attack, that’s a cool moment. When the wizard counterspells the enemy caster right as the fighter was about to eat a fireball, that’s another cool moment. Those kind of things don’t happen by accident. They happen because players are paying attention to each other and thinking beyond their own turn.

    The third thing, and I see this even with experienced players, is decision paralysis. It’s your turn. Everyone’s looking at you. You have seventeen possible actions and you start audibly weighing each one while the rest of the group sits there. A few rounds of this and the energy in the room starts to feel like a staff meeting.

    You don’t have to make the perfect tactical decision on every turn. But you do have to make a decision. A bold, imperfect action keeps the game moving. A cautious, thoroughly deliberated action that takes three minutes is worse than anything the monster could do to the party.

    What Players Do to Make Combat Memorable

    Now for the other side.

    The players who make combat memorable in a good way are doing one thing above all else: they’re focused. Not just on their turn. During the whole fight. They’re watching, reacting, narrating, sometimes even saying things like “I lean over to the cleric and whisper, we need to end this fast” right in the middle of someone else’s turn. That kind of attention to what’s going on is contagious. It lifts the whole table, and for the DM as well.

    The other thing great players do is make their actions feel like something that matters. When your barbarian attacks, you don’t have to say “I attack.” You can say “I go straight for the one in the back, the one who’s been hanging out casting spells, because I want them to know they’re not safe back there.” That takes five extra seconds and it turns a mechanical action into a dramatic moment. The DM notices and so do the other players.

    Good players also read the room, meaning the in-game place where the fight is taking place. If there’s a river behind the enemy, they think about how that can be used tactically. If the ceiling is low, a barbarian might wonder whether that’s useful or the caster might consider if that impacts their spell choice. The DM built that environment for a reason. Players who engage with it are essentially co-writing the encounter instead of just passively operating within it.

    And when things go wrong, which they definitely do from time to time, the players who make combat memorable are the ones who commit to making it fun no matter what happens. Let’s say your bard failed their saving throw and ran away from the party in fear. You can groan about the dice, or you can play it fully and have the bard come sprinting back two rounds later with something to say about what they saw while they were panicking. One of those is memorable. The other one is just a bad roll.

    What DMs Do to Kill the Energy

    Okay DMs, it’s your turn.

    The most common thing I see DMs do that deflates combat is run monsters like they’re spreadsheets. The orc has these hit points and this attack bonus and it swings until it hits zero. That’s not a fight. That’s a math problem. Players can feel the difference between a monster that’s trying to kill them and a monster that’s just occupying a square until its hit points reach zero.

    Monsters should behave like creatures with some kind of instinct or intelligence, depending on what they are. A wolf pack works together to isolate prey. A hobgoblin captain maneuvers their troops for tactical advantage. A cornered kobold fights differently than one with an escape route. When the monster does something tactically clever, or when it reacts to being outmaneuvered, suddenly the players feel like they’re in a real fight instead of a mechanical one.

    The second DM problem is fights that go on too long. If an encounter has opponents with too many hit points, you can have a perfectly well-played fight that still feels like a slog by the end. Players are hitting things that won’t die and the energy starts bleeding out whether or not anyone is doing anything wrong. Three well-designed dangerous enemies are almost always more interesting than six mediocre ones. At some point, quantity stops being a challenge and starts being a chore.

    The third thing DMs do is forget that the environment is part of the encounter. A flat grid with some rocks placed around it is technically a location. But it’s not a very interesting fight scene. What’s the terrain doing? What’s on fire? What’s unstable? What can be knocked over, climbed, pushed into, or used as cover in a way that changes the action? If your players never look at the map and think “wait, could I use that,” you might be designing neutral spaces instead of interesting ones.

    What DMs Do to Make Combat Memorable

    Here’s how DMs can make the combat more engaging.

    Give the fight stakes that exist outside of the pool of hit points. Not every combat needs to have the fate of the world attached to it, but every combat should have something on the line that the players can feel. Maybe the villain they’ve been chasing is about to get away while their minions buy time. Maybe the fight is happening in a building that’s collapsing and the question isn’t just whether they win but whether they win fast enough. When players have a reason to care beyond survival, they play differently and become more interested in not just the outcome, but how that outcome takes place.

    The other thing great DMs do is let the fight breathe. What I mean by that is: the monster talks. It taunts. It makes a decision that reveals something about what it wants or fears. When the enemy orc commander tells their troops to fall back and regroup rather than fighting to the last, your players just learned something. That fight became a part of the story, not just a stat. One unexpected thing a monster does is often worth more than anything written in its stat block.

    Know When to End It

    And here’s a piece of advice that took me a while to realize. You’re allowed to end a fight before it’s technically over. If the players have clearly won and the last two goblins are fleeing into the trees, you don’t have to run those goblins to zero hit points. Just call it. Describe the goblins scattering, give the players the satisfaction of the moment, and move forward. Unnecessary rounds of mop-up are where momentum goes to die.

    The Collaboration

    Here’s what ties all of this together.

    Great D&D combat is not something that happens to the players. It’s not a set piece the DM engineers and the players perform in. It’s a collaboration, and it only works when everyone at the table is pulling in the same direction.

    The DM preps, sure, but they do it by populating it with creatures that feel real, in a place that matters and in a way that makes sense, not just some rectangular room with nothing else in it. The players engage with what’s in front of them and actually care about the outcome. They coordinate their actions and use the combat as a way to bring their characters to life. When both the players and the DM are doing their part, combat stops being nothing more than a source of experience points and becomes a key component of the story you’re building together.

    I’ve run combats at my table that players are still talking about years later. None of them were memorable because of a rules interaction or a particularly elegant dungeon design. They were memorable because everyone was in it together.

    The D&D Moments Nobody Talks About (But Every Player Remembers)

    These are five moments we all hopefully experience during a D&D session, whether we are the DM or a player. These moments can’t be manufactured, and they’re rare enough to be truly memorable. Yet, when you’ve got a good group, elements of these experiences can be an undercurrent beneath nearly every session.

    What’s interesting about this list is they all describe feelings or moments that aren’t necessarily obvious at the time. You may not realize they’ve happened until hours or even days later. You think back and go, “That really was an amazing session.”

    1. You lose all track of time

    These are the moments when you look at the clock and realize you’ve been playing well beyond your intended time frame, and notice that you were so into the story and the action and the intrigue that everything else was forgotten.

    Real life outside disappears and you get immersed in the action. For a lot of people, this is one of the more important reasons they play D&D in the first place, as an escape from all the noise and stress the real world throws at you. You’re in the game but still aware that the real world is waiting for you outside the game room door. But you occasionally get those moments when the game really does possess 100% of your attention and time just flies by without even realizing it.

    2. Consumed with emotion

    Be it fear or triumph or trepidation, the players’ emotions are super intense and real. As DM, some of my most memorable games were the ones where the players were experiencing intense emotions over what was happening in-game. In fact, generating strong emotions in my players is one of my goals in adventure design.

    I once had a player choose to leave the game because the themes went into emotional territory that unexpectedly made them feel uncomfortable. They had nothing but good things to say about how the adventure was going, but the intensity of the emotions it sparked in them was more than they wanted to handle. To their credit, they insisted that nothing in the game change just for their sake, because they recognized how much fun everyone else was having. Still, it was bittersweet when they bowed out, but it speaks to just how personally impactful table-top role-playing games like D&D can become.

    3. Legendary improv moments

    As a DM, some of the most appreciated adventures by my players were ad hoc sessions that I made up on the spot. They weren’t tediously and meticulously crafted, nor were they meant to fit an overarching plan. Perhaps that’s why they were so fun for the players, because I was forced to make them immediately fun and actionable in the moment.

    That spontaneous creation can come from players, too. They can get into character in a way that becomes almost transcendental, where they stop getting in their own way because of anxieties or self-consciousness and just let it all out. And when they do that, the dynamically created moment becomes a memory that’s still talked about months or even years later.

    4. Going left instead of right

    There are times when the players make a choice, often on a whim and without planning, that takes the adventure or even the entire campaign in a whole new direction. That new path is often what gets remembered well after the session ends.

    I’ve spoken about how my railroaded plot got derailed by player choice in another article, but thinking back, there are far more situations where the players going left instead of right made the game orders of magnitude more fun than anything I had prepared. It’s why I suggest DMs adopt the mantra, “Semper Gumby” and develop the ability to adapt and shift as the game progresses organically, rather than adhere to a rigid plan.

    “Semper Gumby” – Always Flexible

    5. The friends you make along the way

    There really is something to the bonds that can form around a D&D table that go beyond the game itself. It can be like the trope-ish scene in a lot of movies when the two main characters have this intense moment of falling in love after going through some harrowing hardship together.

    I’ve seen friendships, and even romances, form because of D&D. In fact, I’ve got a friendship that has lasted since 1988 all based on my buddy, Dave, and I creating something we called, “The Dwarven Blitz.” We both were playing dwarven fighters in AD&D rules, and on the spur of the moment we asked the DM if he’d give us some bonus damage if we charged ahead and attacked as a unit instead of one at a time. We went on to use that table-rule technique to great effect and many great memories we still talk about today.

    Dave and I don’t see each other very often anymore, because of life and all that, but when we do, we get these huge grins on our faces and shout, “The Dwarven Blitz!” when we greet each other.

    And for those paying attention at home, no, this is not the same fictional ‘Dave’ I sometimes talk about in my videos. You know, the Dave that makes the game awkward or whatever, although my real friend, Dave, thinks those references are hilarious.

    8 Rules from Shadowdark To Use in Your 5e Game

    One of the coolest things about tabletop RPGs is you can borrow ideas from one game and use them in another. I’ve been doing it since the early ’80s, and it’s one of the easiest ways to improve your game without reinventing anything.

    Shadowdark RPG has been getting a lot of attention since it came out, and for good reason. It’s a fantastic rules-light system with some genuinely clever mechanics. But if you don’t want to switch from 5e, you can still benefit from what Shadowdark does well. Every Shadowdark rule I’m about to share can be adopted as a simple table rule in your 5e game. Most groups already have a few table rules anyway, so this is just adding to the list.

    1: Initiative

    The first rule we’re going to borrow from Shadowdark is how it handles initiative. Organizing the beginning of combat in 5e, especially if you roll individual initiative, is a tedious pain. Its premise is arguably based on reality, using the individual dexterity of each character, NPC, and monster to determine who goes first. Fair enough.

    But reality versus efficiency in a tabletop role-playing game are like opposite sides of a teeter-totter. When one goes up, the other suffers.

    Shadowdark uses an easy set-it-and-forget-it method. Like 5e, everyone rolls a d20 and adds their DEX bonus. The DM does the same for all NPCs as a group, and all monsters as a group. Whoever gets the highest net roll goes first, and then combat order is clockwise around the table after that. That’s where the efficiency comes in because it’s easy to establish and easy to remember.

    2: Skill Checks

    Fifth edition is all about checks and dice rolls. In my opinion, 5e takes a lot of gameplay out of the player’s brain and puts it into stats on a character sheet.

    5e character sheets feel like you’re managing a spreadsheet instead of playing a TTRPG.

    Even the concept of perception rolls seems counter to the whole premise of role-playing games. You roll a die to see if you passively notice something? At that point, you’re just a passenger, not a driver.

    Shadowdark simplified this in a dramatic way. Page 81 says, “Usually, you succeed at what you’re trained to do without needing to roll a check.” It gives examples, such as a thief always finding a trap when searching in the right area. That makes total sense to me.

    Some might say rolling dice is part of the fun of D&D, and I won’t argue that. It absolutely is. The point here is having to roll checks to see if you succeed at something you should reasonably be able to do in the first place.

    3: The Torch Timer

    One of the coolest parts of Shadowdark is the one hour torch timer. Since none of the ancestries can see in the dark, but all monsters can, all player characters must use torches or lanterns. The rules state that these light sources only last one hour of real game time.

    Many tables use a small hourglass to visually make it obvious when their 60 minutes is up. It builds tension and gives everyone something tangible to watch as they explore underground.

    You could use this concept in 5e, except that many of the ancestry types in 5e have darkvision, so you can either get rid of that, or find some other way to use the timer idea. I really like that concept of one hour of real time matching one hour of in-game time, so finding a way to tie those together in your game seems like a fun thing to experiment with.

    4: Knockout Punches

    It wouldn’t surprise me if this rule already exists in 5e buried somewhere. But one thing Shadowdark describes on page 89 is the knockout punch.

    If you’re in combat and you reduce your opponent to 0 hit points, you can declare that your final blow knocks the creature unconscious instead of killing them outright. AD&D had a rule where you could declare at the beginning of combat that you were attacking to subdue rather than slay (typically for dragons or other intelligent monsters), but Shadowdark puts that decision on the final blow.

    I love this mechanic because it gives the players options they wouldn’t normally think about. A knocked-out opponent can be bound and interrogated, held for ransom, or used as leverage. A dead opponent is just something you step over after you loot the body. The players in my group started using this immediately once we adopted it, and it opened up encounters in ways I hadn’t expected.

    5: Carousing

    Shadowdark’s connection to old-school rules is highlighted by how experience is earned. Not only does slaying or overcoming monsters convey experience points, but so does gathering treasure. Shadowdark goes one layer further, however.

    The party can do something called “Carousing,” and I think this is brilliant. You spend gold to go party and gain experience from that experience. If you use milestone leveling in your group, this may not apply but it’s a fun addition to the game that I think deserves a try.

    In 5e, you gain experience from slaying monsters or from awards granted by the DM for cool deeds, but that’s about it. The Shadowdark carousing model gives you a great reason to spend your gold, and that gives you a reason to go adventure and get more gold. It creates a loop that keeps the game moving forward.

    6: Distance

    In my experience, 5e combat is fairly technical. Players choose tactics that optimize the distances their characters are from monsters and from each other. They plan their combination of actions and movement down to the individual square.

    This can make combat last a while, which is fine if you like that sort of thing. But if you don’t, Shadowdark has some simplified rules that streamline it.

    Distances are grouped into three categories. ‘Close’ is essentially melee range, about 5 feet. ‘Near’ is up to 30 feet, give or take. ‘Far’ is about the limit of where you can see.

    There’s one more aspect of Shadowdark combat movement that I like. In 5e, you combine your actions and movement, in any order, up to your maximum movement rate. In Shadowdark, if you don’t take an action, you can double your movement. I think that’s brilliant and would be super easy to implement in your 5e game.

    7: Roll to Cast Spells

    In 5e, spellcasting is automatic in many cases. When you cast a spell, it will either work or there’s some saving throw involved. The spell may or may not take effect, but the spell still ‘occurs.’ A few spells have attack rolls, but otherwise they just work. Shadowdark does something more interesting.

    When you cast a spell, you roll a d20 and add your spellcasting ability modifier. Hit the target number for that spell, and it fires. Miss it, and the spell fizzles. But here’s the key part: as long as you don’t roll a 1, you don’t lose the spell and you can try again. If you do roll really low, there can be consequences depending on the spell.

    Give this approach a shot in your 5e game. Set a target number for different spell levels, low for cantrips and progressively higher as spell levels climb, then roll whenever a spell is cast. Keep the rule where the spell can fizzle but the caster gets another chance. It adds tension to magic without punishing the player for trying.

    8: Wandering Monsters

    In Shadowdark, taking too long or making too much noise has consequences.

    When the party lingers in a dungeon or gets too loud, the DM rolls to see if wandering monsters show up. I’ve been doing this as a DM since the early days, with the loose table rule that if the players are arguing, their characters are arguing, increasing the odds of a wandering monster showing up. Shadowdark makes it a canonical rule.

    In 5e, I see players argue about a decision for ten minutes without a second thought. If they know there’s a wandering monster check tied to time and noise, I’ve noticed they magically seem to reach decisions a lot quicker.

    It makes the dungeon feel more alive and dangerous.

    This pairs naturally with the torch timer listed earlier. Together, they create a sense of tension that makes dungeon crawling feel genuinely dangerous, which is kind of the whole point.

    D&D is an incredibly versatile game. The ability to change it to suit your preferences has been an essential and intended part of it since the beginning. Taking ideas from one game system and using them in another is one of the best ways to improve the way your group plays the game.

    I’ve covered eight rules from Shadowdark that can work in a 5e game, but I’m sure there are others, not just sourced from Shadowdark, but from other games too. What rules have you taken from one game and used in another?

    Two Things That Make D&D Players Great (And How to Do Both)

    Over the four-plus decades I’ve been involved in D&D, both as a player and as a dungeon master, I’ve sat at the table with some truly outstanding players. Can you guess what they all had in common?

    In this article, I’ll go over the two key characteristics I’ve seen in those remarkable D&D players and how you can develop that in your own play as well. You may be surprised at how easy they are to adopt.

    What the Two Things Are

    There are many qualities that can make someone a better D&D player. Showing up on time, being accepting of others and being a team player, things like that are wonderful, and I think are fairly obvious, but they aren’t what this article is about.

    Instead, I’m going to talk about two things that can functionally make you a better D&D player, and they’re not about min-maxing or picking some optimal class combo. These things are what will enable you to not just have fun, but make your game play more effective AND make the gaming experience more fun for everyone at the table.

    The first is mechanical in nature and the second is more about you as a player.

    I. Know Your Character

    When I say the first way to become an ace D&D player is mechanical, I’m not talking about optimizing your stats or equipment or spell selection. This isn’t min-maxing.

    What I’m talking about is knowing your character inside and out. It’s not about which class or ancestry combination you choose, or what weapons or spells to select. It’s about being intimately familiar with the character you have.

    The Parable of the Guitar Player Who Sucked

    Here’s an example of what I mean. When I was younger, I bought a used guitar and took a stab at learning how to play. I sucked at it and was convinced it was because my guitar was a cheap knock-off and not an expensive model. A good friend of mine, Josh, who was much older and wiser than me, asked to see the guitar. I brought my axe and my little practice amp to his house and plugged it in.

    He started playing something bluesy and, to my ears, sounded like BB-freaking-King. I was shocked, not at his ability, but at the guitar. I felt betrayed. How could that cheap-ass guitar that couldn’t play an in-tune note sound so great in my friend’s hands?

    He told me something I remember to this day. He said,

    “A craftsman never blames his tools.”

    That was when I learned two valuable lessons: One, I’m not cut out to be a guitar player. Second, knowing how to use your tools well is far more important than the quality of the tools themselves.

    Know Your Stuff

    Here’s what knowing your character is all about. You start with your six basic stats. Understand your character’s strengths and weaknesses, and make choices during the game based on them. Don’t attempt stealth moves if you’ve got crap dexterity. If you have a high charisma, take a more prominent role in interaction with NPCs.

    Be very familiar with your gear. If you’re a melee type, understand how your weapons can be used most effectively and in which situations they reveal their peak effectiveness.

    Gear familiarity goes beyond weapons, of course. Learn how to use iron spikes and rope and 10′ poles in creative and useful ways. It’s surprising how versatile these otherwise mundane items can be. Even a flask of oil can be profoundly useful in a wide variety of situations.

    Know Your Magic

    If you’re a spellcaster, it’s not unreasonable to expect you to memorize the spells available to your character, at least at lower levels. At higher levels, have a list of which spells are accessible to your character and which ones you’ve chosen for that day’s adventuring and keep it handy in an efficient format.

    Speaking of spells, become as knowledgeable as you can about how they work and what their limitations are. This applies to ranges and duration and if they require concentration. Give some thought to how spells can be used creatively. The classic example is casting Light on the eyes of a dragon in order to blind it. That’s very effective in old-school rules, and less so but still useful in 5e. Become an expert in how your character’s area of effect spells can be used.

    Finally, figure out which magic items are best suited to which character in your group. If you play modern rules, be aware of which magic items need to be attuned and which ones don’t, and plan accordingly before getting into areas where combat or other tactical action is needed.

    Know Your Background

    Some groups place a higher priority on character backstories than others. If that describes your table, remember that your character’s history doesn’t necessarily have to be long-winded or overly deep, but you should at least have a strong understanding for how it influences your character’s behavior.

    When you play your character not just mechanically well, but I guess you could say spiritually well, you’re adding depth to the game experience for everyone around the table. You can tell when you’re pulling this off when the other players refer to your character more and more, almost as if they are a beloved actor in their favorite movie.

    II. Be Engaged

    The second way to become an ace player has nothing to do with your character, and everything to do with how you actually play the game. It all comes down to something we were taught at a very young age when we first started school: Pay attention.

    Yes, pay attention in class. This means you are engaged and always thinking not only about how your character can individually make their biggest impact, but how your character can make their biggest impact as a team player.

    This means you are paying attention to what’s happening not only with monsters and NPCs, but by keeping tabs on what the other members of your adventuring party are doing. Can your character do things that make other characters more effective in their efforts? Think tactically and strategically with the mindset that your character is part of a team with a shared objective.

    D&D is a Team Sport

    D&D is a group activity where each participant has a specific and often unique part to play. Your character might be the quarterback or the wide receiver, or they may be the free safety or even the kicker.

    Whatever your character’s role is within the group, think about how your character’s strengths and weaknesses and assets can help the group’s efforts to the greatest degree.

    Think Ahead

    Communicate with the other players. It’s not their job to memorize your wizard’s spell list or your fighter’s weapon proficiencies. When you see an opportunity where your character can help someone else in the party, speak up and let them know.

    “Hey, I’ve got a spell that can make your rogue harder to detect.”

    During combat, pay attention to initiative order and think ahead about what your character will do when your turn comes up. DMs love players who are engaged, aware of what’s going on, and already know what their next action will be.

    You will likely have to adjust your plans a little bit as circumstances change, though, so remember the motto: SEMPER GUMBY … always flexible.

    When Players Suck

    There are ways to tell when someone’s not being an ace player. They’ve got their head down into their phone or they’re doodling on their notepad in the middle of combat. This may be the fault of the dungeon master because they don’t handle combat in an efficient manner or whatever, but it’s still the individual player’s responsibility to stay engaged the best they can.

    Another tell for disengaged players is when it’s their turn and they ask, “What’s happening?” Or, let’s say they’re a spellcaster and require frequent suggestions from other players or the DM about what spells are useful, or useless, in a given situation. New players need that advice, but once you get some experience under your belt, that excuse wears thin.

    The game moves slower and the fun starts to leak out onto the floor when the group has a player who’s checked out or clueless about their character.

    At that point, what is the point of you playing the game if you’re not going to actually play the game?

    How They Work Together

    These two methods for better play reinforce each other in a way that’s definitely worth talking about. When you know your character thoroughly, you have something to bring to every game. When you’re paying attention to every scene, you find the places to add to the experience, not drag it down. A player who knows their character well but isn’t tuned in to what’s happening misses the moments where that character would have made a real difference. A player who’s fully present but hasn’t done the work on their character can only react to what’s directly in front of them.

    Put both together, though, and something great happens. You start contributing to moments that are not just fun, but become memorable in the best possible way. The other players start to rely on you and your gameplay because you add, not subtract, from their fun. You become the kind of player that lifts up the experience for everyone at the table, the DM included.

    How Legendary Is Your D&D Group? Take the Quiz

    Some D&D groups are good. Some are great. And some of them produce the kind of legendary tales that are nearly indescribable to anyone who wasn’t actually there.

    Today we’re going to find out which kind of group you have.

    How to Play

    This is the Official Ruckerworks D&D Group Scorecard. Clever, huh? It’s got fifteen yes or no questions across five categories, plus one bonus question at the end that I think likely says more about your group than the other fifteen combined.

    Grab a pencil, or just keep a running count in your head, and let’s see how your group stacks up. You’ll see how to score your results at the end of the article.

    Category 1, Battle-Tested (playing through adversity)

    Remember, these are yes or no questions, and you get one point for every “yes” answer.

    1. Has your group ever continued playing after the power went out?

    2. Have you ever played D&D inside a moving vehicle, such as a plane, train, boat, or automobile?

    3. Has a session ever run so long that at least one of the players fell asleep at the table?

    Category 2, The True Believers (investment in the game world)

    1. Has an in-game quote from your group ever made it onto a t-shirt or sticker?

    2. Have you ever skipped school or work for a day so that you could play D&D instead? Don’t worry, I won’t tell.

    3. Does the home of someone in your group have a dedicated gaming room that isn’t used for anything else?

    Category 3, The Social Contract (group chemistry)

    1. Has anyone in your D&D group met their spouse through gaming?

    2. If you run into someone from your D&D group in public, do you refer to them by their character’s name?

    3. Were you introduced to D&D by a parent or similar-aged relative like an uncle or aunt? OR, have you ever introduced your child, niece or nephew to the game?

    Category 4, The DM’s Burden (what the DM has survived)

    1. Have you or your DM ever celebrated a player’s real-life milestone, such as a birthday, wedding or promotion, with an in-game parallel?

    2. Have you or your DM ever had a visit to the emergency room because their back or knees went out from carrying a bag of rule books, supplements, minis, dice, and props that weighed more than a pregnant kobold?

    3. Does your group have a tradition that every session must include at least one quote from a particular movie or TV show?

    Category 5, The Hall of Fame (legendary moments)

    1. Does your group have at least one session from its past that still gets referenced by name?

    2. Has anyone at your table ever rolled three natural 20s in a row?

    3. Has anyone at your table ever rolled three natural 1s in a row? If they now have a nickname because of it, share it in the comments.

    Bonus Question

    Here’s one final bonus question, worth however many you get: How many goblins has your D&D group tried to adopt?

    Remember, you get one point for every “yes” answer. The “Goblins” question is worth, well, however many you got.

    Score Evaluation

    Okay, got your questions all added up? Here’s what your score means.

    If you scored between 0 and 3, you’re the “Fresh Adventurers.” Your story is just beginning. The goblin adoptions, the potential marriages, the sessions that outlasted the power grid, those are all ahead of you. Good luck on your adventure! You’re going to have a blast.

    If your score was from 4 to 6, you are the “Seasoned Travelers.” You’ve got real stories to tell. Not all of them are safe for polite company, but this is a good place to be, because you’re not afraid to have some fun.

    For those with scores between 7 and 9, you are the “Grizzled Veterans.” Your group has been through some things and you’ve got your share of inside jokes, probably the kind no one outside the table would fully understand, even if you tried to explain it to them.

    Okay, now we’re getting into the serious ranking. If your score was from 10 to 12, you are what I call the “Living Legends.” Other D&D groups don’t know your group exists, but if they did, they’d be impressed. Possibly intimidated. They nod their heads in respect when they see you in the game shop or at the CON down at the convention center.

    The penultimate bracket is for those who’ve scored between 13 to 15 points. You are in the “Hall of Fame.” Your group is the reason someone, somewhere, is telling their friends they really need to try D&D. You are the standard. Bards will sing of you. Probably off-key. You should start your own YouTube channel.

    Finally, if you scored over 15, your group doesn’t need a quiz, you need a documentary. And at some point you’re going to need to officially register your adopted goblins give them your last name.

    Why Some D&D Groups Last for Years (And Others Fall Apart After Three Sessions)

    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.

    If you’re a dungeon master, I have a free monthly email newsletter with a ready-to-use adventure, encounter, or location in every issue, plus hard-won advice from over four decades behind the screen. It’s free to subscribe at ruckerworks.com/newsletter/

    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.

    What Makes a D&D Adventure Feel Real (Even When It’s Fantasy)

    If you want your players to truly become invested in your story, make it make sense. In this article, I’ll explain why this matters and how it makes your adventures more enjoyable for both the players and for you as the dungeon master.

    This is fantasy, so I’m not suggesting everything has to follow the laws of physics and realism. What I am saying is that if the party comes across a talking mushroom, there needs to be a reason for that mushroom to have so much to say.

    Don’t be Random

    There’s a difference between possible, probable, and plausible, and there’s a reason why this matters in your D&D game beyond mere semantics.

    First of all, this is fantasy which means anything goes. But that doesn’t necessarily mean it should. Or if it does, it shouldn’t be ‘just because’.

    If you’ve got goblins living peacefully as servants of a sentient, hyper-intelligent gelatinous cube and its manticore concubine, find a plausible explanation for that bizarre arrangement.

    Don’t be random just for randomness sake. If you do something ‘out there’, come up with a reason for it that makes sense.

    Dungeons Without Reason

    When I started off as a dungeon master back in the early 80s when dirt was young, I’d start designing adventures by drawing maps. The maps rarely made any sense. They’d be a series of rooms, most often square or rectangular with the only variation being their relative size, and then I’d connect them with a series of also seemingly random corridors.

    There was no rational explanation for why the rooms were there, why they were shaped that way, who made them, or who spent those countless goblin-hours carving the corridors from the living rock to connect them.

    Then, I’d stock the dungeon with a bunch of random items that seemed interesting, but like the layout of the dungeon, they had no logical reason for why they were there.

    Example: Against the Giants

    When I bought my copy of Gary Gygax’s mega-module, Against the Giants, my mind was blown. It was dense, the scale and scope was huge, and nearly everything had a reason for being there.

    It was all still fantastical (since when do giants collaborate with drow elves?) but there was an explanation for it all.

    I think that cohesiveness is what took the comprehensiveness and scope of that adventure and made it successful. I think that’s why it was such a joy to play, and a joy to run as a dungeon master.

    Players Need to Plan

    This matters because players will start to lose interest if what happens in the adventure and what they find in your world is too random. They can’t wrap their head around it, and that quickly inhibits their ability to plan.

    If the players can’t plan, or at least have a sense for the ‘why’ behind things, they start to feel like they could have just stayed at home and rolled a bunch of dice on random encounter tables to get the same experience.

    Random, disjointed, or implausible people, places and things within a D&D adventure starts to feel like someone’s changing the radio station every few seconds. As soon as you pick up on the beat and start tapping your foot, the music changes and you lose your connection.

    Why Is The Mushroom Talking?

    If this is fantasy and anything goes, isn’t “making it make sense” counterproductive to the fun? I argue that giving it plausibility makes it even more fun. Here’s why.

    When the players come across a talking mushroom, and the mushroom hints that a mad druid is wandering the woods, the players get this “Ah ha!” moment where they have a plausible explanation for the fungal lecture, and more importantly, they have a vector for what to do next: find—or avoid—the druid.

    You now have the players invested and enthused about an otherwise bizarre and nonsensical discovery.

    What To Watch Out For

    Here’s the one thing to watch out for when you create an adventure. Whenever you add something, be it an NPC or an encounter or an object or a place on your map, if it has no ties to other things in your adventure, give some thought to whether it belongs at all.

    Are you adding that thing just because it’s fun? Okay, that may be reason enough. But think about also including some sort of reason for it to be there. Does that NPC have an odd accent, different from the others in the area? Maybe they were smacked in the jaw by a mad druid after stumbling upon their sacred grove, thus giving them a permanent change to how they speak.

    See what we did there? We added a small yet sort of random element … an NPC that talks kind of funny … we came up with a plausible reason for it … and we tied it to another element we already established earlier, the presence of a mad druid wandering the nearby forest. We also established that it can be dangerous if you go near that mad druid’s sacred grove.

    D&D is Fantastical

    D&D is fantasy, and it needs to have fantastical people, places, and things. The point of this article is you can’t just add the fantastical purely because it’s fantastical. Give those cool and creative people, places and things an explanation for why they’re there. This is the glue that gives your players a reason to become more emotionally interested in what’s happening.

    Much of this article, and similar videos on my YouTube channel, are designed to add to your perspective. When you create encounters, adventures, and campaigns for your D&D group, don’t just focus on the what and how. Give thought to the why as well.

    Adding that level of thought to what you create will add something even more important: your players’ enthusiasm and motivation to keep enjoying your game.

    What Every D&D Player Wishes They’d Known From Day One

    If you’ve never played D&D before and you’ve been invited to your first game, this article describes what you need to know beforehand, what to expect during the game, and how to set your expectations so that you have the best time possible.

    What D&D Actually Is (In Simple Terms)

    Dungeons & Dragons is a fantasy roleplaying game. This means you are playing the part of a character, one you most likely create yourself, although sometimes a pre-generated character may be provided to you.

    The game of D&D is about the experience, not about winning or losing.

    It’s a group activity. It will be you, one or more other players, and the Dungeon Master. The DM acts like the referee and world-builder, and plays the part of all the monsters and other creatures you meet in the game, both friendly and hostile.

    How D&D Is Played

    The way D&D is played boils down to three steps: The Dungeon Master tells you what you see, you and the other players decide what you do, then the DM then tells you what happens. Rinse and repeat.

    Combat is a part of D&D, but so is social interaction and exploration. Those are called the Three Pillars of D&D.

    A session is each time you get together to play. A game session can last anywhere from a half-hour to many, many hours. An adventure is made up of one or more sessions. A campaign is made up of one or more adventures.

    Before You Arrive To Your First D&D Game

    Here’s what you should plan to bring to your first D&D game session:

    Get a set of polyhedral dice. There are tons of styles to choose from and your local game shop can help you out.

    Bring some scratch paper and a pencil. Print out and bring a new character sheet, or ask your DM if they can provide one for you. As a DM, I always have several on hand for new players, or when a character dies and the player needs to create a new one.

    You can also bring snacks to share with others, but ask if anyone has allergies. You don’t want to show up with a bag of Reese’s only to find out one of the other players has a deadly peanut allergy.

    Finally, let the DM know if you have any triggers that would be emotionally traumatic for you.

    What You Don’t Need

    Here’s what you don’t need:

    You don’t need to memorize the rules. Very few people can. Even long-term players and DMs look stuff up all the time during the game.

    You don’t have to bring miniatures or figurines, although if your table uses a battle mat with minis, wait until after your first session before you get one so you can be sure you’re happy with your character first.

    Feel free to wear a costume or speak in a particular voice suitable to your character, but these things are absolutely not needed or even expected. Do what you enjoy.

    Finally, you don’t need to purchase rule books, but if you do, get the Players Handbook or the equivalent for the rules set your group plays (Old-School Essentials, Shadowdark, etc.)

    D&D Character Creation Basics

    One of the first things you’ll do is roll up a new character. The DM, or maybe another experienced player, will help you with that process.

    Start simple and pick a class that sounds fun to play. ‘Class’ is like your character’s profession, ranging from combat and melee types to spellcasters or specialists like rogues.

    Your character doesn’t need an elaborate backstory, or really any backstory at all, unless that’s a big thing in your new group. Don’t overthink it, especially at your first game.

    My advice is to make a character who wants to adventure with the group, while avoiding the lone wolf or the character who says no to everything.

    How Things Go During a D&D Game

    Here’s what to expect during the game. You’ll explore around, interact with NPCs (non-player characters) — those are characters and people you meet in the game that are roleplayed by the DM — and sometimes you get into combat.

    As I said earlier, it follows the same basic three steps: The DM tells you what you see, you declare what your character does or says, and the DM tells you how it turns out.

    Ask questions when you don’t understand something, but remember that you’re new to the game so much of it will seem unfamiliar. It really is okay to ask questions.

    And, don’t be afraid to take notes about the things your character (or your party) acquires, places explored, NPCs met, and so on.

    Your Role as a D&D Player

    Pay attention even when it’s not your turn. Be aware of what’s going on and think ahead about what you want your character to do. Remember that D&D is a team activity. Good players think about how their character can make the most effective impact toward the party’s goals.

    Separate what you know as a player and what your character knows or would do.

    Keep your eyes and ears open to the adventure hooks the DM gives you. That’s where the fun stuff is.

    You Will Make Mistakes (And That’s Fine)

    The common wisdom is that you’ll make mistakes, but the secret is they aren’t really mistakes per se. Even if your character is a half-orc or a tiefling, you’re still human. This is new to you.

    I’ve been playing D&D since 1980 and I’m still learning something new at every game, so cut yourself some slack and don’t be too hard on yourself.

    You’ll forget rules, misunderstand mechanics, and sometimes make tactical errors. It’s okay to ask the DM questions before making a decision, or asking more experienced players what they suggest.

    Remember that everyone at the table was new to the game at one point. Most players and DMs are patient and helpful, but if you find yourself in a group who lacks courtesy or patience, it’s okay to say, “Thanks” and then find another group.

    The first few sessions are about learning, not performing. It gets easier and doesn’t take very long before it feels natural.

    Common New D&D Player Pitfalls to Avoid

    Here’s some advice for how to be an effective player.

    • Don’t split up the party unless there’s a good reason for it.
    • Don’t hog the spotlight or interrupt other players when it’s their turn.
    • Don’t argue with the DM about rules. You can ask questions, of course, but the DM has the final call.

    There are many other ways you can become a great D&D player. Here are some resources to help you out:

    Be sure to check out this video & article “9 Habits of Great D&D Players“
    WATCH: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCVydwDhipI
    READ: https://ruckerworks.com/2026/01/great-dnd-player-habits/

    Another good one is “Become an Expert D&D Player: 44 Tips to Level Up Your Game“
    WATCH: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dzn9cZ0f20Q
    READ: https://ruckerworks.com/2025/12/become-an-expert-dnd-player/

    The Social Side of D&D

    D&D is a social activity, so here’s some guidance on how to improve that aspect of the experience.

    First, be on time and show up when you say you will. That’s just basic respect and courtesy.

    Second, respect that each player has the right to choose what their character does.

    If something at the table makes you feel uncomfortable, say so. As I mentioned previously, if you have certain triggers or sensitivities, let the others know about it ahead of time.

    Just like in school, don’t talk over each other, especially when it’s not your turn.

    Finally, don’t check your phone during gameplay. That can be perceived as rude.

    Setting Realistic Expectations

    Here are some basic reality checks to help set your expectations.

    If you’ve ever watched D&D gameplay on YouTube, remember that not every DM is Matt Mercer (and that’s okay).

    Your first D&D session won’t be perfect, nor will your 100th. It’s an experience, not a contest.

    You might feel awkward roleplaying at first (everyone does), so only do what feels comfortable.

    The rules will click over time, but not right away. It’s a good idea to learn what your character has in terms of gear and such, and what they are capable of, but don’t feel like you have to memorize the entire rule-set.

    And, different tables have different styles and vibes, so find the group that works for you.

    The Most Important Thing You Need To Know About Playing D&D

    Ultimately, D&D is about having a good time in whatever way your group defines that. The goal is to have fun together. It’s about shared storytelling and memorable moments. Remember that some of the most memorable situations are when things go sideways.

    Be kind, be engaged, and be willing to learn.

    The DM and other players want you to succeed and enjoy yourself, so relax and remember it’s just a game.

    Parting Wisdom and Wishes

    I hope your first D&D experience is a positive one. This is a game that has been around since the 1970s, so there’s obviously something to be said for the enjoyment it can offer. That being said, D&D isn’t for everyone, and that’s okay, too.

    Remember that D&D is an extremely versatile game, with many published variations, and even more unique table rules and group styles that make it even more versatile. If you have a less than pleasant experience, be open to giving it another shot, perhaps with a different character, or maybe at a different table that plays a different version of the rules.

    What 45 Years of D&D Actually Taught Me (No B.S.)

    In this article, I take 20 questions about dungeon mastering and give answers based on my experience and perspective. A lot of D&D is subjective, so my approach to these topics is, well, subjective.

    Q1. What’s the single biggest mistake new DMs make at the table?

    The biggest mistake I see new DMs make in general is over-prepping, but that’s across the entire job of a dungeon master. Specifically at the table, I see new DMs panic when the players do something they don’t expect, and the DM freaks out. They can get frustrated or almost irritated and over-react by either forcing the situation into railroading territory, or they become slightly or even overtly antagonistic to the players.

    My advice is to take a breath and give some thought to what’s happening. You’re human and if the players do something you don’t expect, it’s okay if you don’t respond immediately. Put your improv hat on and see how you can take the player’s choices and extend them rather than fighting them back into the plan or path you already had in your mind.

    Q2. How much prep is too much prep?

    Too much prep is like art: you know it when you feel it.

    You can tell you’ve prepped too much when one or both of these two things happen: first, you get done with a game session or even the entire adventure and realize only 10% of what you prepped ever got discovered or consumed in-game. My experience has shown that roughly 30% of my prepared material ever gets consumed. Be sure to watch my video (“The 30% Rule Every DM Should Know (And How to Use It)”) on this topic.

    Second, and I think this is the more critical “tell” for knowing when you’re prepping too much, is when prep becomes stressful or you dread it. For many DMs, prep is as much fun as running the game itself. But, when getting ready for an adventure feels like work, and I’m talking the serious slog dread waking up on a Monday morning kind of work, that’s when you’re prepping too much.

    Tone it down, realize you only have to read one chapter ahead of the class, and don’t feel like you have to predetermine every tiny detail in order for the game to be fun.

    Q3. What do you do when a player does something you completely didn’t plan for?

    You say yes, and you figure it out. That’s the honest answer. After 45 years of doing this, I still get surprised by players regularly, and I’ve made peace with the fact that those surprises will keep happening. When something comes out of nowhere, I don’t fight it. I ask myself, “What makes the most sense in the moment?” Then I go from there. Earlier in my D&D career, when the players really threw me for a loop, I’d call a five-minute break to collect my thoughts, but that only happend a couple of times, many years ago. But if that’s what you need at the gaming table, there’s no shame in calling for a break. If you have to choose between the two, quality is more important than speed. What you want to avoid is letting the players see you get flustered. Stay calm, commit to the choice, and adapt. Nine times out of ten, the unexpected thing the players do ends up being more interesting than what you planned anyway.

    Q4. Is it ever okay to fudge dice rolls?

    This is subjective and unique to each DM, so I’m going to share my own opinion on it and let you take it for what it is. I used to fudge dice rolls but now I never do. I roll everything in the open, except for very specific rolls where the player isn’t supposed to see the result, like when a rogue stealth checks. I think setting better targets for your rolls is an improved approach than artificially changing the outcome. And, if you really want a particular outcome to occur in order to suit the situation and the story better, don’t roll at all, just make the decision and move forward.

    Q5. How do you handle a player who keeps derailing the adventure?

    There are various ways a player can derail an adventure, and most are innocuous or unintentional. Some are kind of cool when it actually adds to the story in an unexpected way. What I think the question pertains to, however, is when the player’s behavior itself is the problem.

    When a player keeps disrupting things, or does it in a way that is aggregious or even malicious, I suggest you have a conversation with them one-on-one after the game. Ask questions first to find out what their intentions or motivations really are before you start making statements. On rare occasions player behavior can be so bad that you have to address it in the moment, right there at the table. Regardless of your age, remember that as the DM, you have to be the so-called adult in the room, so act like it. Be as mature as you can and be as constructive as possible, but don’t be afraid to be direct. Don’t make the player guess about your meaning or about what the desired behavior should be. This is a touchy subject and there are a lot of ways to address it, but my final advice would be to stay mature and constructive while avoiding making it personal.

    Q6. What’s the most important thing a DM screen does for you?

    A DM screen does two things for me. First, and most importantly, it hides my notes and maps from the players’ eyes. Second, it hides my rolls. But, I roll out in the open now for practically everything, so that’s very rarely an issue.

    Q7. How do you make an NPC memorable in just a few seconds?

    I make NPCs interesting by making them weird. Not in a negative way, but by making them unusual. I might give them an odd accent or unusual speech pattern. This is specially useful if I’m talking in the NPCs voice. I can also give them quirky fears or attractions. Perhaps that innkeeper keeps asking questions about one of the character’s boots, almost like they have a boot fetish or something like that. Above all, an NPC will be immediately forgetable if they don’t have a name. Give them a name, then be sure to write it down in your notes, especially if you made it up on the spot. NPCs don’t need backstories or elaborate physical descriptions. If you make an NPC memorable, don’t be surprised if the players remember them for a long time, so get their name right.

    Q8. What’s the best way to describe a room or location without boring everyone to death?

    Lead with what the characters would notice first, and make it sensory. Not just what they see, but what they hear, what they smell, whether the air is cold or damp. Then stop talking. Give them two or three strong details and let them ask questions. A lot of DMs make the mistake of front-loading setting descriptions with every detail they worked hard to create. Players can’t process all of that at once, and you’ll watch their eyes glaze over. Think of your descriptions as bait. You’re trying to get them curious enough to seek more detail. For example: “The room is cold and smells like smoke. In the center, there’s a large stone table. And on it, something is moving.” Now they’re asking questions, which is what you want.

    Q9. When should a DM just say no to a player’s idea?

    You can say no when it would genuinely break the game for everyone else at the table, or when it goes against something that’s been clearly established in the game’s story. If a player wants their level three character to challenge the god-king of the realm to single combat in session two, that’s a no, and the world itself can deliver that no. That’s different from a DM saying no because they didn’t think of the idea first or because it complicates their plans. A good rule of thumb I use is this: is my reason for saying no about protecting the game, or is it about protecting my prep? If it’s the second one, I need to get out of my own way and find a yes, or at least a “yes, and here’s what happens next.”

    One final word of advice. If you make a ruling along these lines, don’t be afraid to explain your reasoning. “Because I said so” is the last thing a good DM should ever say.

    Q10. How do you keep combat from dragging on too long?

    A few things work well together. First, keep encounter size manageable. Monsters that have already taken significant damage should start making decisions that reflect that, whether they flee, surrender, or fight more desperately. And honestly, keep the pressure on players to make their decisions quickly. If someone spends three minutes on their turn because they can’t decide what to do, give them a ten-second count next time. Don’t be harsh about it, just give them a reminder that time is passing in-game too. The other big one is knowing when to call it. If combat has clearly turned in the party’s favor and you’re just grinding through hit points, describe a dramatic finishing moment and find a plausible way to end it. Nobody needs to watch the party dispatch the last two goblins one at a time. Wrap it up and move on.

    Q11. What’s the difference between running a published adventure and running a homebrew campaign?

    At the table, there’s hardly any discernable difference at all. The biggest differences pertain to prep.

    With a published adventure, you’ve got a lot of the heavy lifting done for you. The maps exist, the encounters are laid out and the story is all there. Your job is to adapt it to your table, because your players probably won’t follow the exact path the writers assumed they would. Read the whole thing before you run any of it, so you’re never surprised by the material. With homebrew, you have complete creative freedom and complete creative responsibility. Nothing exists until you make it. That’s exciting and it can also be a lot of work, depending on how much depth you put into your prep process. The advantage is that everything in your world is already calibrated to your players, because you’ve hopefully built it with them in mind. I’ve done both for decades and I find real value in each approach. They’re just different kinds of work.

    Q12. How has your DMing style changed over the years?

    I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable with uncertainty. When I started, I felt like I needed to have an answer for everything, and if a player asked something I hadn’t planned for, I’d panic a little. Now, I’ve learned that “I don’t know yet, but let’s find out” is a perfectly legitimate thing to say in the moment. I’ve also become much more interested in what the players bring to the table versus what I bring. Early in my career, I was probably more invested in my own worldbuilding than in what the players were actually inside it. That flipped somewhere along the way. Now the most interesting part of any campaign is watching players make choices I didn’t anticipate and seeing where that takes us. In the end, though, I’d say my confidence when improvising is what has changed the most.

    Q13. What’s the one rule you’ve always found is more trouble than it’s worth?

    Encumbrance, hands down. I have tried, across multiple editions and multiple decades, to make encumbrance feel like it adds something meaningful to the game. And in theory, it should. Resource management is interesting and I see value in it, especially if your players dig that kind of thing. But in practice, at least for the majority of players I’ve worked with, tracking exactly how much everything weighs, and whether the party’s fighter can carry that extra suit of armor, kills the momentum of the game and creates bookkeeping that nobody wants to do. I’ve used simplified versions, I’ve tried various house rules, and eventually I just stopped enforcing it unless a situation makes it genuinely relevant, like someone trying to sprint while wearing plate armor and carrying a huge bag of gold. Common sense handles most of what encumbrance rules are designed to address. I go with what is plausible in a broad sense and ignore any more detail than that.

    Q14. How do you handle a player whose character dies?

    I have an approach that is information-forward. During combat, if things are going poorly, I make sure the player knows it or at least has good hints about it. I don’t spring “gotchas” on the party with monsters that are overly-capable of killing them without there being a fair fight or at least some warning. That cavern strewn with mutilated bodies is a pretty good indication the monster lurking just out of sight has a high likelihood of wiping them out.

    Second, I roll my dice out in the open, so the players know it’s not me killing them, it’s the dice. That alone has helped players deal with character death because it prevents them from taking it personally. If the player does take it hard, I show in-game respect for their loss and don’t discount it. I let them experience that grief as if it’s real, because for the player, it can be.

    Q15. What’s the best way to introduce a new player to D&D at your table?

    I run the teens D&D group through my local library, and for the vast majority of them, they’re playing D&D for the very first time. I try to get them up to speed the best I can as quickly as I can, without making the other, more experienced players die from boredom. This is one area where I’m not a fan of 5e compared to old-school rules or Shadowdark, because 5e takes forever to generate new characters. I make sure the new player rolls up their stats with dice the old fashioned way, because that’s a memorable experience, but we try to defer a lot of the other details so they can get to playing as quickly as possible. We fill in the other stuff later on as we play.

    Q16. Between AD&D, 5e, or Old-School Essentials: which is the most fun to run?

    That depends on what kind of fun you’re after, and I say this having run all three extensively. AD&D has a complexity and a texture to it that I still find deeply satisfying, and I suspect some of that comes down to nostalgia, but I know that all that detail isn’t for everyone. Old-School Essentials captures that same spirit in a much cleaner package, and I find it remarkably easy to prep and run. 5e has its plusses during actual game play, such as ascending armor class, but I find it’s the most long-winded and challenging for new players to get into. If you’re asking which one I personally enjoy running the most right now, I’d tell you Old-School Essentials or even Basic/Expert, because they get out of my way and let me focus on the action. But the honest answer is that much of D&D is subjective, so the best system is the system you like best.

    Q17. How do you keep track of everything going on at the table without losing your mind?

    I think being mentally prepared before the game helps me stay sane during the game.

    The night before a game, I read through the session notes from the last session, so I can get up to speed on where the party left off. Then, about an hour before game time, I review in my head what’s likely to transpire, or at least what’s nearby and where the party is likely to go. During the game itself, I keep short and quick notes of the NPCs they meet, the monsters they face, and the gear they acquire, and any quest-level objectives added to their list or ones they’ve accomplished. If I feel momentarily overwhelmed, I verbally stall just enough to let my brain catch up in the background. A lot of this just comes from experience, to be honest, and that’s something you have to acquire the hard way by putting in the hours. And usually the following morning, I write up my session notes from what transpired the night before. These notes are typically a single typewritten page. The final piece of advice I have is to keep your sessions a bit shorter, like 2-3 hours max, or if they’re going longer than that, definitely take breaks.

    Q18. What’s your go-to trick when the energy at the table starts to drop?

    Honestly, I don’t think that has ever happened at any of my games other than when combat drags or when one player is interacting with an NPC and the other characters aren’t involved. Sometimes long combats can get boring, especially if there are more than four or five players, but that’s about the only time I can think of when energy or enthusiasm seems to drop off.

    Q19. How do you build tension before a big boss fight?

    I don’t deliberately set out to build tension per se, but as an author of four fantasy novels and one murder mystery, foreshadowing is second nature to me. I guess in that sense, I’m building tension unconsciously and somewhat automatically. Whenever I advise new DMs, though, I recommend they make sure the party at least has some hints that something big bad and evil may be lurking around the corner. Surprises aren’t always fun in D&D, especially when that surprise can quickly end in a TPK. If someone is going to walk into the boxing ring with Mike Tyson, they should at least have a talking magpie whisper in their ear, “You do know he’s the heavy weight champion, right?”

    Q20. What’s the one piece of advice you wish someone had given you when you started DMing?

    Prep, don’t plan. I’ve talked about this several times in my videos, because the difference between prepping and planning is huge. Planning leads to railroading and unmet expectations. It also puts a lot more improvisation load on the DM when they have to handle the party going east when your plan assumed they’d go west. Prepping leads to flexibility and fun on both sides of the DM screen. So, prep, don’t plan.

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