I will never understand all of the celebratory bulls$&% surrounding birthdays. Why do people think that they deserve applause, accolades, cake, and f$&%ing gifts just for not dying? Every f$&%ing day, seven-and-a-half-billion people manage to not die across this planet and many of them face far greater challenges than can be imagined by anyone living in an industrialized, western nation with enough free time in their life that they can waste some of it reading a website of advice about a game about being a pretend elf. That is to say, you have free time to devote to getting the most out of your free time. And you think, somehow, that entitles you to annual cake and presents. Ha. Maybe if your birth was a gift to the world – like mine – I might buy that. But statistically speaking, it probably wasn’t. Sorry.

Given that, just imagine how ballsy you would have to be to send me an e-mail requesting – practically DEMANDING – an article specifically for your birthday. Yes. That actually happened. Someone who is going only by the alias “the 25-year-old DM” actually sent me – ME – an e-mail indicating they had a birthday coming on April 6 – this Friday – and that they would like to me address a topic specifically for them.

Well, here’s the thing: as much as I despise birthdays and don’t want to reward demands, I have to respect this level of chutzpah. 25YODM has guts. But she’s not foolhardy. She made the demand, but she gave me an alias. And the question is something I’ve had a lot to say on in the past, but also something I’ve not written a definitive “final word” on. It’s something that comes up a lot, that a lot of people fight about, that a lot of GMs worry about, and that a lot of GMs sling around unfounded and stupid accusations about. I COULD slot this article neatly into an Ask Angry, but frankly, I think the opportunity is too good to pass up.

So, in one go, I can reward a brave and gutsy reader, soften my image by actually wishing someone a happy birthday – which my marketing team says is a good move – and put down the definitive final word on railroading: what it is, what it isn’t, why people worry too much about it, and how the meaning has gotten lost over the years.

So, happy birthday, 25YODM. You are the first and last person to ever get a birthday article from me, simply by being the first person to have the guts to demand one. And if anyone else ever tries this crap, they will regret it.

Railroading: How to Yell at a GM

Railroading is one of those terms that used to have a nice, narrow, useful definition. Well, it used to have a narrow definition. I’m not sure it was very nice or useful. Railroading used to refer to the GM forcing the players on a predetermined path through a story. For example, imagine the players have been hired to do something simple like travel to the castle and kill the vampire lord who holds the people in thrall. Along the way, the heroes encounter a mysterious woman who wants to join them on their journey. Now, the GM knows the mysterious woman is actually the vampire’s girlfriend, and she is trying to join the party so that, at a crucial moment, she can suddenly turn out to be a vampire and betray the party, trapping them in the prison. But the heroes don’t want the woman along. Maybe they are suspicious. Maybe the GM has a habit of inserting traitorous NPCs into the party. Maybe they just work better alone. Whatever the reason, the players don’t want the woman in the party.

But the GM won’t have any of it. The woman begs and pleads. The party won’t let her join. They try to walk away. She follows. She keeps showing up in encounter after encounter. The GM even amps up the difficulty of the encounters so the mysterious woman can save the party. They encounter an obstacle only she can get past. The players – not the characters, the players – realize that this woman is going with them, whether they want her to or not. And the players finally take a drastic step. They attack the woman. Of course, the GM gets irate. He says, “you can’t just attack her, she hasn’t done anything wrong.” A player counters with “I don’t care. I attack her,” and he throws a die roll. The GM won’t have any of it. “If you attack this innocent woman,” says the GM, “the cleric will lose his powers. And you’ll have to shift your alignment and lose a level.” At that point, the game degenerates into an argument. And then someone yells out “this is a railroad! You’re railroading.”

And they are right. THAT is railroading. And it’s called that because it has become clear that the GM is steering the plot through a series of predetermined events and the GM will not allow any deviation. The events of the story – the plot – has been laid down like tracks and the players are trapped on the train. All they can do is go along for the ride and try to survive to the end.

Now, railroading is a pretty terrible thing. It flies in the face of everything that role-playing games are about. RPGs are about the players making decisions and then dealing with the consequences of those decisions. Role-playing is the act of making choices. I’ve said that before. A lot. So much so I don’t even have to link back to it. Especially because I don’t feel like searching for it. You can look it up yourself if you can’t take me on faith at this point.

In point of fact, railroading is pretty much the worst slur you can throw at a GM. It’s the equivalent of calling the GM a Nazi. Any GM in the know will respond to the accusation of railroading as if they have been slapped in the face. But, like the word Nazi, the word railroading has been thrown around so much and for so many minor offenses that aren’t nearly close to railroading that, these days, it’s meaning is pretty much distilled down to nothing. These days, the word railroading basically means “I don’t like that thing you did” or “you’re a big ole, bed-wetting doody head.”

See, GMs like to fight a lot about who runs the best games. And what are the best ways to run games. Because nerds – and gamers are nerds – don’t believe in things like subjectivity and trade-offs and preferences and styles. And nerds also have to be the best. That means they have to believe they are running the BEST game and there is only ONE WAY to run the BEST game. OBJECTIVELY. And therefore, any suggestion that anyone is having just as much – or more – fun running a different kind of game is a PERSONAL F$&%ING ATTACK! And when someone attacks you by daring to run their game differently, you have to find an OBJECTIVE way to PROVE they are WRONG. And railroading is a great word to use.

I have been accused of railroading – online, mind you, by the gaming community and not by my players – for lots of reasons over the years. I have been told that linear adventures or even dungeon adventures with critical paths are railroads. I have been told that mystery adventures to which I already knew the solution were railroads. I have been told that establishing a campaign goal and outlining the plot points of that campaign goal are railroading. I have been told that telling a player no ever was railroading. I have been told that showing up to run a game with anything other than a blank piece of paper was railroading. I have been told my ENTIRE GODDAMNED WEBSITE including EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WRITTEN ON NARRATIVE STRUCTURE was railroading.

I s$&% you not. Understanding narrative structure, designing a mystery adventure, and not improvising absolutely every f$&%ing moment of every game I run is railroading in some circles of the internet.

So, these days, I have very little respect for discussions about railroading. It’s a useless word. It doesn’t mean anything anymore other than “you made me mad, Mr. or Mrs. or Ms. GM!” It’s a word that just needs drink some lead-based paint and die.

A Useful Definition of Railroading

All of that said, I am not about to throw out a perfectly useful bathtub with some shrieking, useless, stinking baby. Because there IS a useful lesson at the heart of all of this. It’s just hard to see it with all the shrieking, useless, stinking gamer babies in the way. What REALLY is railroading?

Obviously, railroading isn’t planning. That’d be a stupid f$&%ing to say, and that’s why only stupid f$&%wits claim that it is. GMs have to plan. Even improvisation is just planning and executing in the same step. It isn’t just functioning without a plan. And a good RPG adventure or campaign has to work as a well-structured story and as a well-structured game. And both of those things mean the game has to have certain elements in the right places. Things like motivations, climaxes, tensions, appropriate difficulty curves, fairness, challenge, and so on. A good GM is constantly trying to fit the chaos of an RPG session into BOTH the framework of a good story and the framework of a satisfying game experience. And to try to do that without any forward thought and without nudging things and taking some control would just be impossible. In short, anyone who thinks any degree of planning or GM control represents railroading is just a f$&%ing moron.

In fact, understanding what railroading REALLY comes down not the planning at all. It’s about the level of control. It’s about who’s steering the game. In the example I laid out above, it is very clear that the players cannot steer the game away from the mysterious woman. The GM simply will not allow them to proceed beyond a certain point until that mysterious woman is part of the party. The players can’t do ANYTHING to avoid that fate. So that’s it, right? That must be the railroading.

Yeah. You’d think that, wouldn’t you? Lots of people do. And I don’t mean shrieking, stinky, Internet babies. Sensible people think that too. If there’s something the players can’t avoid, that MUST be railroading. But there are lots of things that can’t be avoided. I mean, for f$&%’s sake, any adventure that happens in a dungeon is filled with unavoidable things because the party can’t tunnel through rock. They can only explore where there are rooms and halls. If the only path through the dungeon to the treasure leads through the dragon’s lair, is THAT railroading?

That’s a tough one, isn’t it? Because, if you say yes, then every adventure that has a goal is railroading since the path through that adventure MUST pass through that goal. If the goal of the adventure is to recover the lost Staff of Conformity, the party must, at some point, end up in the scene in which they recover the Staff of Conformity. Right? And if a Standard Guardian Beast Type 7-B is protecting the staff, the party must deal with that beast somehow. How is that NOT railroading?

And now you have a problem. Either you have to do the old cop out of “okay, yeah, that’s railroading; but it’s not BAD railroading,” or you have to accept that railroading isn’t just about steering the plot through a series of preplanned events. And if you have to distinguish between “good railroading” and “bad railroading,” you still have some terms to define before you hit anything useful.

Okay, fine. Maybe it isn’t just about the GM steering the plot. Maybe it’s just about the GM not allowing the players to change the plot, right? Well, let’s talk about that.

Contrarian A$&holes

There is a certain category of player – let’s call them contrarian a$&holes – who just want to f$&% with the game, the world, the GM, and the players. Mostly, they are young players. Usually antisocial. A little egotistical. And they are drunk on the free-form openness of the game. You know the kind I mean. They are the sorts of players who ignore the quest and just want to roll to see if they are getting drunk in the tavern. They are the players who kill helpful NPCs for funsies. They are the sort who will always turn left when the sign points them to the right. They are just a f$&%ing delight to have at the table. Alone, they ruin the game for everyone. But if you end up with an entire group of them, they end up having a blast, and you end up depressed and miserable.

No one would argue those people are playing the game right. I mean, this is where the hippie-dippies of Internet GMs would use the smarmy term “social contract” to describe the unspoken, unwritten agreement between the players and the GM to all agree to play the same basic game. And usually, that game involves there being some sort of quest or goal and the party will work together to complete that quest or goal. And there are usually other agreements tacked on, too, like not being a bunch of murdering arsonist d$&%bags who are just killing and burning their way through the world.

Imagine a group of contrarian a$&holes – or a group that includes one such contrarian a$&hole – encountering the mysterious woman on the way to the vampire castle. They – the players – decide to give in their random impulse and kill the mysterious woman. If the GM puts up a fight – especially if the GM has had this argument with the contrarian a$&holes in question before – is THAT railroading? The BAD kind of railroading?

Let’s put aside arguments about how dysfunctional that group is for the moment and admit that, no, the players are wrong there. They aren’t engaging with the game in accordance with the – hurk, I really hate this phrase – social contract. And the GM is in the right to try to stop it. It isn’t railroading. It’s a fundamental disagreement about the game being played and whether the GM and the players belong at the same table.

But now, let’s take a lesser example. Consider the party that simply isn’t interested in the plot the GM is offering. They don’t want to fight a vampire. They want to go explore the dark forest or whatever. So, the minute they are out of town, they turn off the road and head for the dark forest. Just to see what’s out there. The GM might plead with them. He might offer them warnings about what the vampire lord will do in their absence, trying to entice them back on the path. He might fill the dark forest with terrible threats so powerful that it forces the characters back onto the road. Or he might say, “okay, you wander around the dark forest for the entire day and nothing happens. There are no monsters. There’s nothing interesting. Now, can you get back on the road and continue the adventure?”

Is THAT railroading? Is it BAD railroading? Who is being unfair to whom there? You can argue that the GM is unfair by not running the game that the players want to play. You can argue the players are unfair by ignoring the game the GM worked hard to provide. If you’re smart, you’ll argue that both sides are in the wrong because there’s clearly a breakdown of communication at the table. And you’d be right. And that’s kind of the point.

Railroading Isn’t a Thing

Ultimately, the truth is, railroading is a useless term, not because shrieking, stinky, Internet babies ruined it, but because it was always something of a useless term. You can argue about “stealing the players’ agency” and “fighting for control of the narrative” until you’re f$&%ing exhausted, but that won’t get you anywhere. A smart person – like me – will always be able to find an example that proves your definition of railroading isn’t ALWAYS a problem. And if you try to counter by saying that sometimes railroading isn’t bad, that smart person – me – will turn around and demand a definition of bad railroading. And we’ll be back where we started, with you not shutting up and me wishing you’d just shut up.

See, ultimately, here’s the problem. Let’s suppose the same vampire-mysterious-woman-traitor-plot we’ve been using all along. But let’s assume the party is totally taken in. She seems helpful, the party invites her along, they end up in the dungeons, and then, lo-and-be-jeebus, she betrays them, and they are trapped, and she flies away, cackling, into the night. Exactly as the GM planned it. Did the GM railroad the players? Of course not. He just set up a plot development. And the players executed. It became railroading when the GM started battling with the players for control of the plot.

Railroading isn’t a thing. The real thing, the real problem, is the power struggle. The thing that happens when the players feel like they’ve been robbed of their agency and become contrarian to reclaim their agency. And then the GM feels like the players are turning contrarian and fights to put them back on the path of the game. Sometimes, the GM starts it by trying to force a plot development. Sometimes, the players start it by trying to be contrarian. Most often, someone starts it due to a misunderstanding.

I do not deny that some inexperienced and immature GMs do rob their players of their agency in an attempt to ensure the plot develops exactly the way they plan. And that does fit the traditional definition of the word “railroading.” What I’m saying is that it’s not a useful distinction. Because, once there is a power struggle for control over the plot, who started it is immaterial. I don’t see the need to distinguish those moments when the GM steals the players’ agency – railroading – from the moments when the players are being f$&%abouts – contrary a$&holery – because they are just about who hit first. And who hit first doesn’t matter. What matters is that the resulting slap fight is going to ruin a game. And maybe some friendships.

Solving Out-of-Game Problems In-Game

I’ve said this a thousand f$&%ing times: NEVER solve out-of-game problems in the game. And railroading and contrariness – real or perceived – are OUT OF GAME problems. When the players FEEL railroaded, the proper response is to stop the game and talk to the GM. When the GM FEELS the players are being contrary a$&holes, the proper response is to stop the game and talk to the players. Likely, what’s happening is either a mistake or else there really is a problem underlying everyone’s expectations about the game. The players trying to walk off the road or kill the NPC? That’s solving the problem in the game. The GM trying to force the players back on the road or punish alignment changes? Same f$&%ing thing.

But none of that is really what 25YODM actually asked. That’s just me telling her – and all of you – how it is.

So let’s try to get this back to the series of questions that 25YODM demanded that I answer by way of some sort of conclusion.

Some Sort of Useful Conclusion

So, here is what 25YODM actually asked:

What is the correct definition of railroading and when is a DM doing it? Is it always bad to railroad, or can it be helpful or necessary sometimes? How can a DM avoid railroading? Or, if railroading is sometimes helpful or necessary, how can a DM avoid the bad kind of railroading?

And here is my advice. Not my answer, mind you. My advice. You can dig back through everything I said above and distill out some kind of answer if you think it’s important. But I don’t.

Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about railroading means and whether it’s right or wrong or when it’s useful or what, technically, it is and how it happens. And don’t worry about you accidentally railroading your players and ruining your game. Because you won’t. Actual railroading is pretty rare. And it’s the response to the railroading – the resulting power struggle – that ruins the game. Well-intentioned GMs might occasionally diminish their players’ agency in an attempt to set up a good story or game element. And there’s nothing inherently wrong with that; no more than there is anything wrong with planning a boss fight at the end of a dungeon. Sometimes, though, the players might veer away from that setup. Either accidentally or because they have briefly seen through the smoke and mirrors and are asserting their agency. Which is also not inherently wrong. But, in cases like that, the well-intentioned GM – precisely because they are well-intentioned – will generally veer away from an extreme power struggle. And now, you’re smart enough to recognize the power struggle and address it.

In other words, recognize your capacity to accidentally railroad, but don’t be afraid of it like some kind of Mr. Hyde waiting to spring out and ruin your game. Just deal with it when and if it comes up. Because ACTUAL railroading is highly subjective. It depends on when the players FEEL it. And the fallout depends on the response to it. And that means that everything about railroading depends on the group and the context.

But if you are afraid of your capacity to railroad, you might paralyze yourself into planning nothing. Or, at least, you might not plan really great things like the mysterious apparent ally who betrays the party to the vampire lord at the climax of the story. It’s a terrible carpenter who throws away his hammer just because he knows it can be used to break skulls as easily as it can be used to pound in nails.

Meanwhile, good job not dying. I hope you continue to not die for many years to come. Just like everyone else. I mean, I managed to write this whole article without dying. No one is congratulating me. Where’s MY cake?