It’s Ask Angry time. I’m opening my mailbag and answering reader-submitted questions.

Want your question answered? Send it to ask.angry@angry.games. Make sure you give me clear permission to call you whatever you want to be called and also get to the frigging point. I get dozens upon dozens of these dumbass questions so you’ve got about three seconds to catch my eye. And nothing catches my eye like something I can read — in its entirety — in three seconds.

Anyway, let’s get to it…

Snazzy asks…

I have new players who completely ignore my ‘no evil alignment’ rule. Actually, they ignore alignment altogether. If an NPC so much as sneezes wrong, their solution is to try to stick a sword down the NPC’s gullet. I’ve started simply saying, “Hey, you’re just randomly hurting someone. No can do.” But our games sound like me trying to boss them around. What would you suggest?

I wonder if your players attack your NPCs just to shut them up. If you ramble on as much when you’re running them as you do in your e-mails, I wouldn’t blame them.

My players’ characters act like sociopaths and they don’t listen when I tell them to stop attacking innocent NPCs for no reason. Help!

Anyway, Snazzy, your problem’s not an uncommon one. Lots of GMs have to deal with this crap. My fiancé, The Tiny GM, recently asked me to help her deal with basically the same shit. And if you search online for the term murderhobo, you’ll find thousands of put-upon kindred spirits. Don’t actually search for it, though. GMs who say murderhobo are idiots. They don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.

And those of you who’ve used the word murderhobo in your own e-mails to me are about to get schooled on solving the real problem.

First, know this ain’t an alignment thing. It seems like it is, but it’s not. Second, it’s not a lack-of-consequences thing. And third, the problem isn’t that the players are acting like sociopathic rage monsters.

The problem is that the players aren’t engaging with the game’s world as a world. It’s as simple as that.

Normal, sane people don’t behave the way your players’ characters are behaving. And no society could function if people did act that way. In a very real sense, your players aren’t playing a roleplaying game. They’re not playing characters in an imaginary world.

Now, I just know some asshat’s going to tell me that different people want different things from roleplaying games and some people prefer escapist fantasies that let them behave like the complete monsters they’re not allowed to be in real life. And while that is technically true, there are two counterpoints to remember.

First, different Game Masters want different things from running roleplaying games and many Game Masters prefer not to run escapist fantasies for complete monsters.

Second — and more importantly — if you agree to play a roleplaying game and then refuse to play a roleplaying game, you’re the asshole.

Yes, I’m saying it: your players are playing wrong. They’re not roleplaying in a roleplaying game. And you have the right to correct them. And if they refuse to be corrected, you have the right to stop inviting them to play.

This problem actually happens a lot with new players. New players tend to get drunk on the freedom roleplaying games afford and the novelty of being able to punch, stab, throw rocks at, and set ablaze anything they don’t like. It’s not something you can do in most games. Further, many players — new and otherwise — just don’t understand that the point of roleplaying is to actually play a role. To project themselves into their characters and interact with the world of the game like it’s a real place. And most GMs don’t know how to explain it.

But explain it you must.

As a rule, once you’ve corrected your players a few times and you’re starting to feel like that’s all you, it’s time to stop the game and deal with the problem directly. That’s where you’re at now.

Okay kids, put the dice away. We need to talk. You’re missing an essential piece of this whole roleplaying game puzzle here. The point of the game’s to imagine yourself as your character and live in the game’s world. To treat it like a real place and act like real people in it. If you do that, you get this amazingly rich and deep play experience that’s unlike any other game you’ve ever played. You’re not doing that. You’re stabbing people who look at you funny and setting fire to stuff just to watch it burn. That’s not how you play the game.

Yep, I just told a Game Master to tell his players they’re playing wrong. I can’t wait for the feedback.

Once you’ve explained things clearly, hear your players out. Listen to them without judgment. You got your say; give them theirs. But remember that listening isn’t the same as agreeing or acquiescing. You’re still right. Some asshole on the Internet told you so. Keep that in mind.

You can’t run a game you don’t want to run and running a game for sociopathic monsters is not running a roleplaying game. So, you’re going to end up saying, “I hear and understand you, but unfortunately, that’s not what this game is about.” Or, “Yes, I have seen YouTube games like that too and I know it seems fun, but those groups aren’t playing roleplaying games and that’s what I want to do.” Or, “I know it doesn’t seem fun, but I promise it is. Just try it for a few sessions, all right? Give me a chance to show you.” Or, possibly, “I guess we don’t want the same things from our games so maybe we should do something else instead.”

Unfortunately, as much as you can’t run a game you don’t want to run, you also can’t make people play a game they don’t want to play. This isn’t a controversial thing to say, but the gaming community sure thinks it is.

Once you’ve come to an agreement — that is, once the players have agreed to play the game you’re running or quit — that agreement is the Law of the Table. If someone refuses to abide by it, you pull them aside and say, “We agreed on how the game would work; so get on board or get lost because there ain’t a third option.” If you don’t enforce your rules, they don’t exist. Being a Game Master sucks sometimes. Sorry.

That said, it takes people time to adjust their behavior. So accept you’re going to end up saying, “Is that really what you would do if this was a real situation” for a while to get people used to things. As long as they sheepishly say, “No… let me redo it,” all is good. Be patient and give them a chance to learn. And forgive the occasional slip-up without comment as long as it’s minor.

That’s the only way to handle any of this crap.

Mitch asks…

What do you do when a player questions or doubts a GM’s depiction of the world? My party was playing a prison escape with a friend of ours as a first-time DM. When we got to the armory, another player insisted there should be more equipment in there. Later, when we fought two giant spiders, the other players insisted that was too many and that the fight was unfair.

Did you read my answer to Snazzy’s question above, Mitch? If not, go read it. There’s a reason I answered Snazzy first.

On the surface, the problem of a self-proclaimed expert correcting the amount of equipment in the armory might seem like the opposite issue, but it’s the same problem Snazzy’s got. The player is refusing to engage with the world in front of them. And if it were my table, I’d probably handle it like this…

Adam: This armory should have way more equipment in it. Maybe some studded leather armor and shields and stuff.
Me: And yet, that’s not what you see. What you see is what I told you you see. Deal.

And I’d deal with the spider thing the same way.

Beth: Two giant spiders? Two. That’s not a balanced encounter. I’m not fighting them.
Me: The spiders are pleased to see their prey doesn’t fight back and pounce. While the spiders are devouring Beryllia, what does Cabe do? Does he have an opinion on the inherent unfairness of life or the callous cruelty of the gods?

Now, I ain’t saying that’s the best way to handle shit, but there is a point to my snarky sarcastic assholry. And that is, again, that the players aren’t engaging with the game’s world. In this case, they’re scrutinizing the Game Master’s choices as a Game Master.

This problem actually happens a lot when players step up to run games for the first time. The other players can feel nervous, doubtful, critical, distrustful, or whatever, or else they just start testing the new GM to see what they can get away with. It’s a normal human reaction to someone who’s never had authority or responsibility in a group suddenly taking a leadership role. You see the same in work environments when members of established teams get promoted to leadership roles.

The only fixes are a combination of time and assertiveness. The new leader’s got to assert their authority and accept that it’ll take to earn the team’s respect. That new GM’s got to say, “The armory is as I’ve said it is and so is the fight; how does your character deal with the situation?” And the new GM has got to accept a bit of grumbling and grousing in response.

If that grumbling or grousing gets disruptive, the new GM has got to address it. That means stopping play and laying it out, just like I told Snazzy.

Character sheets down, let me tell you how it is. I’m running this game and you agreed to play. I can’t run the game if you’re going to second-guess everything I do. I know I’m new and I know have things to learn and I hoped you’d show me some patience and give me some time to find my footing. If you can’t give me that chance — if you don’t want me to run the game or trust me to do it — say so and I’ll step down. Otherwise, you play, I’ll run, and we can talk about how it’s going in a few weeks, okay?

But there’s a problem with that approach…

You, Mitch, ain’t the poor, put-upon GM in this scenario. Not if I’m reading your e-mail right. You’re just a player unhappy with your fellow players’ treatment of your new GM. And that changes everything.

If the newbie wants respect, that newbie’s got to take control. And anything you do to help will just undermine that. You can’t intervene and you can’t offer unsolicited advice without being part of the problem.

You must proceed with caution.

Your new GM needs a friend. Start there. Thank them for running the game. And don’t do it in a performative, pointed way to show the other players how they should act. Do it privately — or at least quietly — after the game. Then, ask the new GM how it’s going. And listen. Once you get a conversation going — assuming you do — observe the players’ behavior and see how the GM responds. Just say, “Adam and Beth seemed to second-guess you in the armory and with the spiders, huh?” See what the GM says. If they seem put out and genuinely open to discussing it, ask them if they’re open to your perspective. If they say no, then accept that, keep being a friend, and let the GM sort that shit out. Otherwise, tell them what I told you.

Ultimately part of trusting and respecting people means letting them work shit out for themselves, even if it means sitting back quietly and watching them struggle. Which is really, really hard.

Nat asks…

Rogue sneak attacks explicitly use combat rules for dealing with unaware targets, which you advise against. The whole class is designed around dealing bonus damage in situations where we probably shouldn’t be using attack rolls and damage rolls at all. How do you handle classes that rely on specific sneak attack rules? Would you get rid of rogues in your own RPG system?

Forgive me for what I’m about to say…

Ahem…

Well, actually…

I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

As a gamer of a certain age who remembers the fights that used to rage about whether thieves could even Backstab in combat at all, I appreciate that Monte, Skip, and Jonathan explicitly made Sneak Attack a combat-type ability and spelled out exactly when it was and was not possible. Before 3E, that shit was a mess.

I’m cool with using Attack Rolls, Armor Class, and Damage Rolls anytime combat’s raging, even if someone loses track of an opponent temporarily and gets shanked by surprise. The opponent’s still en garde after all — armed and ready and on constant alert — so it’s not like someone can just get an arm around them and slit their throat. A Sneak Attack in combat’s a very quick, opportunistic strike to a vulnerable spot a split-second before the opponent can react to your presence.

I just don’t think shit like Attack Rolls, Armor Class, and Damage Rolls have much of a place outside a fight. They’re combat things. And I’m not saying that for story or simulation or verisimilitude reasons. I’m not arguing Armor Class is only for combat because it’s partially predicated on dodging and because a shield doesn’t work just because it’s strapped to your arm. I’m not agreeing with the rulebooks when they insist Hit Points aren’t meat but also include training and pain resistance and deflection and stuff. That’s a dumb argument and even the people who spout it don’t really believe it. Everyone knows Hit Points are meat.

I say that Attack Rolls, Armor Class, and Hit Points are combat things because they’re game design elements that specifically exist to make combat work. If tabletop roleplaying games didn’t have combat engines, those mechanics would be just about the dumbest-ass way to deal with injury and resistance imaginable.

And that’s the point.

In most non-combat-type situations, Hit Points and Armor Class and Attack Rolls lead to stupid or nonsensical results. If someone’s trussed up like a goat and you stab them through the heart, it’s pretty stupid to give the dice a chance to say you miss or that a stab through the heart might be less than fatal. For practical purposes anyway. Yes, it is technically possible you could screw that up, but it’s way too unlikely to rate a one-in-twenty chance and if you did screw it up, you’d just take another stab at it.

If a rogue sneaks up behind someone who’s not already actively defending their life and ready for an enemy approaching from any direction, it’s dumb that random chance might say, “oops, you missed” or whatever. If you’ve already resolved the question of whether the rogue could get behind the guard unnoticed — which is what Stealth checks are for — the assassination should be a given.

Thus I’m perfectly happy to overrule that shit whenever it allows the possibility for a nonsensical outcome. I don’t use Attack and Damage Rolls to resolve out-of-combat assassinations. If I think there’s a chance the victim might live long enough to raise the alarm or whatever, I’ll ask for an appropriate check and that might look like an Attack Roll to the untrained and non-Angry eye, but I’m just doing what I’m supposed to as a GM and using an Ability Check to resolve an uncertain outcome. And if the sniper lands the shot, I’m not letting a Damage Roll tell me the victim shrugs off an arrow through the base of the skull.

And frankly, knowing GMs can — and should — override any rule that introduces the possibility of a stupid outcome is good enough for me. That’s what the GM’s for. My game designs fully embrace the Game Master as a game mechanic and I know all I have to do is include a rule that says, “Hit Points and Damage Rolls are only used when an action as described really could result in anything from a flesh wound to instant death and a totally unexpected arrow through the temple from five hundred yards away doesn’t qualify.”

Also note that, while I’m totally fine with combat rogues having a talent for opportunistic strikes to the kidney-spleen, I also figure anyone with a light step and a keen knife can be an assassin outside combat. And really, I don’t consider any of this shit to be the definitive or exclusive purview of rogues anyway. However I define whatever scoundrel-type classes I include in whatever game I design, you can bet extra damage won’t be a central feature.

Besides, Damage Rolls are a dumb mechanic.

All of that said, I want to add something you didn’t technically ask about just to illustrate my point about judging things based on the gameplay they create first and foremost. And prepare to have your socks blown the hell off by this next statement. Because it’ll probably shock even my long-time readers.

All of that said…

I almost never override Hit Points and Damage Rolls when player-characters are the target. PCs can survive pretty much anything short of immersion in lava or a finger of death spell. If an invisible sniper a block away launches an arrow at a PC’s temple, I do a Damage Roll and describe the outcome appropriately. Even if I made a perfect attack roll first.

Yes, my player characters have Plot Armor. NPCs? Fuck ’em. Fatal assassinations be fatal. PCs? Turns out it was just a graze. Head wounds always look worse than they are.

Why?

Because it makes for a better game.

And all of that said, prepare to have your brain totally broken by the last line of this column.

All of that said, I’m totally cool with PCs being struck stone dead due to one failed save in a fight with a medusa.