Lately, all of the discussions I’ve found myself in with patrons, supporters, readers, fans, friends, and people in public who see me with an RPG book and assume that means I want to hear about their s$%&ty game because, gosh, we like the same hobby so we must obviously be the bestest of friends…

Sorry.

Lately, it seems like all of my gaming-related conversations have been about rules, mechanics, and systems. Specifically, about how the game – whatever game it happens to be because I don’t exclusively play or talk about D&D despite what some of my correspondents seem to think – how the game needs a rule for this or that and they – the person talking at me despite me doing everything in my power with my body language to get them to stop short of punching them in the throat – how the game needs a rule for this or that.

Don’t get me wrong, I love rules and systems and subsystems. I mean, I’m the guy who decided that he alone could crack the nut that is a reasonable crafting system for D&D. But if you pay attention to all of my rules and systems, they tend to fall into one of two categories. Either they are big, complex systems that touch many aspects of the game and will end up getting used almost every session. Or else they are one-off systems that let me do something specific in one encounter or adventure. And those small, one-off systems always have the same life cycle. First, I come up with the system. Then I start stripping it down to its essential components until it’s as simple and intuitive as possible. Then I rip off all the stuff that’s specific to the original use and throw it away. And once I have a tiny, simple, intuitive bit of rule that’s really more of a tool than a set of game mechanics, then I start applying to it to everything.

Because rules and systems and mechanics are really not the best way to handle most things in RPGs. They are necessary evils. The sort of thing you use because you have to. And I know that believing that puts me in the minority. But my genius automatically puts me in the minority anyway. So whatever.

Speaking of whatever, let me tell you about the Whatever Stat.

Whatever Stat You Need

Let me tell you about this tool I use when I design and run my own games. It’s one of those tools that looks so simple that most people won’t recognize how powerful it is. And that simplicity is one of the things that makes it so powerful. The other things that make it powerful are things that most GMs totally underappreciate and undervalue. Things most GMs see as bugs rather than features. But I’ll talk about that AFTER I explain the Whatever Stat instead of burying the lede like I usually do and spending three-quarters of my word count explaining all the reasoning behind the thing that proves what a genius I am and how f$&%ing stupid everyone else is. And then discovering I don’t have enough space left to actually explain the thing itself.

But I have to warn you first that you’ve seen this before. Sort of. I haven’t spelled it out or explained it this way before. But if you’ve played with my social interaction system or you’ve read my book you’ve seen it used for some very specific things. Now, I’m basically filing off the serial numbers and turning it into a general tool that can be used for lots of very general things.

The Whatever Stat is something you can use whenever there’s something in your game that the players can interact with and which, in turn, affects the players or the game world in some way. You can use it when you’re building or an encounter or when you’re writing an adventure or even when you’re designing an entire subsystem. Though the beauty of it is that you will have to build lots fewer subsystems if you know how to use the Whatever Stat. And the Whatever Stat is also something you can pull out of you’re a$& whenever your players f$&% badly enough that you need to invent a new encounter or scene to recover your game.

Basically, the Whatever Stat is a name, a number, and one or more thresholds. It’s really just a way of keeping track of things. When the players take an action that makes a thing more whatever, the Whatever Stat increases. And when the players actually manage to do something that makes a thing less whatever, the Whatever Stat decreases. And when the Whatever Stat hits certain specific values, something happens.

Told you it was simple. I bet it barely seems like it’s even a thing. It sure is hard as hell to even describe it in a generic way. But trust me when I say its way more powerful than it seems. And if you use it right, it’ll save you a metric f$&%-ton of work. But that’s a big ‘if’. And given the vague description, an example is probably in order.

A Simple Example That Most GMs Will Hate

Imagine the heroes are trying to build up their reputation in this city for some reason. They want to get in good with some guild or the emperor or whatever. The details don’t matter. As the heroes explore the town, they discover that everyone is really into standard fantasy cliché 17(a): gladiatorial games. So, the heroes decide to sign up for a battle or three to make a name for themselves.

Now, I’m a smart GM. I realize that if I just throw the PCs into a fight with a manticore or a rival party or some Christians or whatever, it’s just going to feel like standard fantasy cliché 1(a): roll for initiative and fight to the death. And that totally misses the point of an adventure that’s all about building a reputation. The audience – the crowd – needs to be a part of the encounter.

So, I create a Whatever Stat called ‘the Crowd’s Favor’ to represent how ‘into’ the fight the crowd is and how much the crowd wants the heroes to win. Basically, how loudly the crowd is cheering for the heroes. I start the Crowd’s Favor at 0. And I decide that when it hits 3, the entire party gets a morale effect that works basically like a bless spell because the crowd is really cheering them on. And then I decide that when the Crowd’s Favor hits 6, the party has won the favor of the local guilds and they get a 5% discount on anything they buy in the city for a week. And if the Crowd’s Favor hits 10, the emperor himself is impressed and invites the party over for dinner.

And that’s it. That’s everything I need to run the party’s fight in the arena. As long as I do it right. Easy as Pop-Tarts. Because Pop-Tarts are actually easy to make. Unlike a f&$%ing pie. That’s a pain in the a$%. Anyone who says “easy as pie” has never made a pie.

Now, I know you think I forgot half my gladiatorial combat subsystem. But I didn’t. And once I explain why I didn’t forget anything and what you’re missing, I know you’re probably going to lose your f$&%ing mind. Because you’re a modern, rational, hyperintelligent GM who wishes he could turn himself into a pickle to skip his therapy appointment.

Just remember: it’s not the size of the tool, it’s how you use it.

Fast forward a bit. It’s game night. And the heroes are now in the arena and they are facing their first opponent. And on top of my initiative tracker – a simple sheet of paper because it doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that for f&$%’s sake – on top of my initiative tracker is a big note. It says, “Crowd’s Favor 0.” And that’s my reminder that the Crowd’s Favor has to be part of my narration. Whenever I describe the current situation, I have to make sure to include the Crowd’s Favor.

“Alice, you’re locked in melee with the ogre, trading blows back and forth. Bob has moved up behind the ogre to join the skirmish. The arena’s stands are filled with the murmur of bored conversation. The emperor is talking to one of his advisors, ignoring the tedious slog of a fight. What do you do?”

Or…

“Dave, you can see Carol has been backed up against the wall by the manticore. Its barbed tail is whipping wildly to and fro. Bob’s unconscious nearby. The crowd has gotten to its feet. At first, the arena is hushed and tense, but then a rhythmic chant begins to rise until it reverberates through the massive space. The situation is bleak, but the crowd is pulling for you. What do you do?”

Moreover, whenever the Crowd’s Favor changes, I have to let the players know.

“A roar of approval goes up from the crowd as your mighty spell explodes against the ogre’s chest, driving it back.”

Or…

“You drive your sword through the downed gladiator’s chest, slaying him. A stunned silence falls over the crowd at that flagrant example of foul play and then they begin to scream jeers and curses at you.”

But that note on top of my tracker isn’t just to remind me of my narratorly duties. It’s also there to remind me of what I have to keep an eye on in the scene. And what to evaluate actions against. That note reminds there’s an audience watching the fight and that it’s my job to determine how excited they are and how much they want the party to win.

If the players have been paying attention, they’ll know that they aren’t really in the arena to win a fight. They’re there to win the crowd. That’s the point of the encounter. And they’ll notice the crowd is reacting to what’s happening in the game. Eventually, a smart player who wants to win the encounter instead of just winning the fight is going to do something to make that happen. They might start to play the crowd. Maybe Bob just landed a good blow and Carol decides to spend her turn cheering Bob on. And egging the crowd into cheering for Bob as well. Or maybe Carol decides not to cast that powerful debuff spell that only deals psychic damage and instead lobs a big, flashy fireball even though most of the damage will be wasted because there’s only a single target.

The Whatever Stat – the Crowd’s Favor in this case – gives me a criterion against which to evaluate those actions. When Carol decides to try to get the crowd pumped up and I have to ask myself whether that can succeed and whether it can fail and whether there’s a cost or risk of doing that, I have something to weigh those questions against. Yes, she could totally play the crowd. And yes, she might lose the crowd because they don’t want to see someone showboating, they want to see a good fight. And yes, the fact that she is giving up a round of combat to do that is costly and the possibility of offending the crowd is risky. So I can confidently ask for a Charisma (Performance) check. I might even decide to grant her advantage because she’s following a really awesome critical hit that would impress the crowd. And when she succeeds – or fails – I have a way of tracking and describing the result. And with the thresholds and their effects, I have ready-made consequences to apply.

And if you don’t know what the f&$% I’m going on about with those questions and the idea of consequences, you need to go back and do some remedial reading on how to adjudicate actions.

But the Crowd’s Favor isn’t just about evaluating the players’ direct actions. That stat reminds me that the Crowd’s Favor is something that exists in the scene. It’s a real thing in the game world that can change and, in turn, impacts the game world. That means I have to keep an eye on it even when the players aren’t interacting with it directly. When something happens during the fight that might sway the crowd, I have to notice that and note the change. If a player lands a solid critical hit, for example, I can increase the Crowd’s Favor by one. And if a player kills a downed gladiator, the crowd will probably turn against them and I can decrease the Crowd’s Favor by a point or two or three.

Hell, since the Crowd’s Favor is a part of a combat encounter, I might even put it ON the initiative tracker. Say at initiative count 0. At the end of each round, I’ll evaluate and adjust the crowd’s mood based on what happened that round. If a round goes by where everyone just stands in place and hits each other, I might decrease the Crowd’s Favor. But if half the party gets knocked unconscious in one round and the other half is rallying and trying to pull a win out of their collective a$&es, I might increase the Crowd’s Favor.

The Whatever Stat is not just a tool for tracking a thing in the game, it’s a tool for evaluating player actions and game events and adding consequences to the game beyond the outcomes of the actions themselves. That makes it very useful. But, like I said, you have to use it right.

Whatever You Do, Do It Right

The Whatever Stat seems easy enough to use, right? Well, it is. But there’s some finesse to it too. And some things to keep in mind if you want to use it well.

First, the name of the Whatever Stat is really important. A good Whatever Stat has a descriptive, loaded name. One that’s short and punchy but also describes exactly what it represents. Notice above that I didn’t call the Whatever Stat ‘mood’ or ‘excitement’ or ‘the audience’. I specifically called it the Crowd’s Favor because it represents how much the crowd wants the heroes to win. Excitement is a part of it, but it’s not everything. Because the Whatever Stat is both a narrative prompt and a criterion for evaluating actions, descriptiveness and specificity are key.

Second, a good Whatever Stat represents something the players can actually influence. Directly and indirectly. If it’s just a timer that inexorably ticks down toward doom, it’s not a Whatever Stat. You can have one of those, sure, but don’t call it a Whatever Stat. If you can’t imagine a way that the party can influence the Whatever Stat directly, you don’t have a Whatever Stat. And that may also be a sign that your encounter is lacking in decision points.

Remember that if you can’t imagine a way for the players to influence the Whatever Stat, then neither can they. And that’s what you want them to do. Imagine ways to influence the world their characters exist in.

Note, by the way, that player influence doesn’t have to be simple or straightforward. I’m not saying that there has to be a way for the players to nudge the Whatever Stat with a single action or die roll. If the players, for example, want to influence some sort of Imperial Occupation stat measuring the strength of the Empire’s iron grip on the city, the actions the players take to reduce that stat will be very complex. They might have to kill lots of soldiers, destroy a supply shipment, raise a riot, or assassinate one or more important figures. Such actions might comprise entire encounters, strings of encounters, or even whole adventures.

And that’s why, third, a good Whatever Stat must have an impact on the game. If the Crowd’s Favor just provided a bunch of fluff and narration, there’s no point to the players engaging with it. Either they’ll realize right away it does nothing and they won’t waste time, effort, and actions trying to manipulate it. Or else they’ll spend a lot of time, effort, and actions trying to manipulate it and then feel screwed when they discover it doesn’t do anything. And, unfortunately, advancing the plot of the adventure usually isn’t rewarding enough by itself. I know that’s crazy.

A good Whatever Stat is like the coins in Super Mario Brothers. It has more than one impact on the game. Now, I’m talking old-school SMB here. In the old games, the coins felt good to collect on their own and each coin increased your score. Which also felt good. That was a short-term, immediate, in-the-moment sort of benefit. But every time you collected a hundred coins, you earned an extra life. That was a more long-term impact that actually increased your odds of winning the game. And the coins were also placed in such a way as to guide you along – usually – the easiest or best path through a given level. Basically, they pulled you along the ‘plot’.

My Crowd’s Favor stat provides a nice, direct benefit in the form of morale effects that improve the players’ odds of winning. It also provides a less-direct, bigger-picture effect in the form of an equipment discount that lets the players outfit their characters for future fights. And it advances the plot by allowing the players to actually earn the reputation they need to win the adventure.

Relatedly and fourth, the Whatever Stat has to be visible in the game world. There has to be some way for the characters – not just the players – to know it’s there and know what it is. You can’t just put a f&$%ing score counter on the table. Now, the players won’t know exactly what the number is or even what the stat is called, but they need to be aware of what it represents and they need to be able to discern whether it’s high or low and when it changes. In other words, there has to be something for you to describe. Otherwise, the Whatever Stat doesn’t work as a narration tool, does it? Remember, if the players can’t even see it, they can’t imagine ways to influence it. And they can only see what you describe.

Obviously, the characters in the arena can pretty much assess the mood of the crowd and it’s easy to figure out how you – the GM – can make it visible through narration. But some things are trickier. Fortunately, you don’t have to describe something directly to make it visible. For example, if you have a Whatever Stat that represents an NPC’s current attitude toward the party, you might show it by portraying the NPC as more angry and impatient when it’s low and more calm and friendly when it’s high.

Fifth and finally, the quality of a Whatever Stat hangs on the quality of its thresholds. Those are to the Whatever Stat what Complications are to the Tension Pool. They’re where the real design work and creativity go. The mechanical bit is purposely simple and intuitive because that frees you up to focus on the much more important, much more creative bit of deciding how the Whatever Stat actually affects the game.

Aside from that fun, creative work, you also need to figure out at what values those effects will kick in. Assuming the Whatever Stat starts at zero – and it’s easiest if it always does – I find the best places to put thresholds are at 1, 3, 6, and 10. And never higher than 10. And if the threshold is a win condition for an encounter, scene, or adventure – and the Whatever Stat is a great way to track such a thing – the place where you set the win condition threshold determines whether the encounter or adventure is very easy (1), easy (3), moderate (6), or hard (10).

Here’s a good way to think about it. If the threshold is at 1, that means one character can accomplish that with one dedicated action. That’s barely anything. Technically, every action in D&D is an extended test against a Whatever Stat with a threshold of 1. Right? Picking a lock or breaking down a door just takes one dedicated action from one character rolling one check.

A threshold of 3 is something that an entire party can accomplish with one round of dedicated actions or that one character can accomplish in three or four rounds while the rest of the party does something else. And that’s the length of an average combat in D&D. So, it’s just great for those scenes where the party has to protect one character while they do something. Like, if the party has to disable the magical portal to stop elementals from pouring into the room.

If the Whatever Stat has to reach 6 for the party to win, that’s the sort of thing that takes some serious focus from several members of the party. At least two or three members of the party need to dedicate their actions to it for three or four rounds. Or everyone needs to focus on it for a round or two. And if the Whatever Stat has to reach 10, the party needs a solid strategy so everyone can dedicate their actions to it every round. So, thresholds of 6 and 10 are perfect for encounters in which the whole party has to work together to accomplish something. Like, say, a social interaction encounter.

Even if the Whatever Stat doesn’t set a win condition – even if it’s just something that sits in an encounter and influences the outcome or provides resources the party can use to advance the plot – it’s still a good idea to use those guidelines to set the thresholds. And to give the Whatever Stat several different effects at 3, 6, and 10. Like how my Crowd’s Favor stat gives an immediate benefit at 3, a longer-term game benefit at 6, and advances the plot at 10.

And if you let the Whatever Stat go negative – which is a variation I’ll discuss in just a moment – you can also set thresholds at -1, -3, -6, and -10 and impose negative conditions, negative consequences, plot setbacks, and losses.

And with that, I might as well discuss some variations of the Whatever Stat you might want to use.

Whatever Variety Suits You

Used correctly, the Whatever Stat is a powerful and versatile tool. But with some minor variations, it can be even more versatile.

I’ve already mentioned the idea of letting the Whatever Stat go below zero. And that’s useful when you have something in the game that can influence the game in two opposite, mutually exclusive ways. Like that Crowd’s Favor thing. Conceivably, the crowd could end up cheering against the heroes. So, the Crowd’s Favor could run from -10 to 10. On the negative side, it represents the crowd’s disfavor with the party. And their disfavor could negatively impact the game. When the Crowd’s Favor reaches -3, maybe the party suffers a negative morale effect similar to the bane spell. And at -6, maybe the guilds are mad because the heroes not only looked bad, but they also f$%&ed up the betting odds or something. Now, the heroes have to pay 10% more for anything they buy in the city. And at -10, they are just banned from the arena forever.

Similarly, if you have several different things that can influence the game in several different ways that aren’t mutually exclusive, you can run multiple Whatever Stats. And not only can each Whatever Stat have a specific impact on the game, but they can also impact the game depending on how they compare to each other. If you’ve used my brilliant and utterly correct method for running social interaction encounters, you probably recognize this variation. Basically, an NPC has a few different, conflicting reasons in their head to help or hinder the party. Each is measured by a Whatever Stat. And when the NPC has a reason to help that’s higher than their reasons to hinder the party, they give in and do what the party wants.

Multiple Whatever Stats can also influence each other. That’s a third variation. Consider that adventure with the arena above. The adventure is about the party building their reputation up in the city, right? So, I need a Whatever Stat for the Party’s Reputation. Maybe, when the Crowd’s Favor in the arena hits 6, the Party’s Reputation improves by 1. And when the Crowd’s Favor hits 10, the Party’s Reputation improves by 2. And then those discounts and dinner invitations that I tied to the Crowd’s Favor might come at certain Party’s Reputation thresholds instead.

The fourth variation is one you’ll be tempted to misuse as a timer. Don’t do that. Remember that the party has to be able to influence it.

Anyway, the fourth variation is a Whatever Stat with inertia. That just means that the Whatever Stat will change on its own periodically if no one does anything to nudge it in some direction. It might increase or decrease every round. Or every time the players take an action. Or, if the Whatever Stat can be positive or negative, maybe it slides toward zero. The Crowd’s Favor, for example, might slide toward zero – representing the crowd’s flagging interest – if any round goes by wherein the Crowd’s Favor doesn’t otherwise change.

I’ve got another example of Whatever Stats with inertia that I use in all of my social interaction encounters now. It’s called Impatience and it measures how tired an NPC is of listening to the heroes’ bulls$&%. Once it hits a given threshold – depending on the difficulty of the encounter – the NPC won’t listen to anything the players say, and all social interaction attempts against the NPC fail. Like all other Whatever Stats, the players can influence it. Instead of working on the NPCs motives, the players can take actions to decrease the NPC’s Impatience. The players can offer bribes, flatter the NPC, apologize for sleights, or whatever else they might think of.

One other way you might add some variation to the Whatever Stat thing is by changing up how the thresholds work. Most threshold effects come into play when the Whatever Stat exceeds a given threshold and remains in play until the Whatever Stat no longer exceeds that threshold. The bless and bane effects from the Crowd’s Favor, for example, work like this. As long as the Crowd’s Favor is above 3, the party is blessed. The moment the Crowd’s Favor drops from 3 to 2, though, the bless goes away.

But what about the shopper’s discount the heroes receive when the Crowd’s Favor hits 6? That’s trickier because it persists after the encounter ends and the Crowd’s Favor stat ceases to exist at that point. Does the party have to end the fight with the Crowd’s Favor above 6 to keep the discount? That might make sense. But if the discount is about the peak excitement in the fight, maybe once the Crowd’s Favor hits 6, the party gets the discount even if the Crowd’s Favor later drops. After all, the merchants just remember the high point of the fight. Or maybe, the heroes get the discount once the Crowd’s Favor hits 6, but if the Crowd’s Favor ever drops below a certain point – say -3 – they lose it again.

The point is that the Whatever Stat is pretty versatile. Especially if you’re willing to play with it. But you want to play with it right. Don’t f$&% with the basic mechanics. Don’t try to add a bunch of layers and complex dice gymnastics. Don’t, for example, use a ‘damage die’ to see how much the Whatever Stat changes in response to a given action. Don’t come up with a list of specific actions the players can take to influence the Whatever Stat. And don’t, for the love of f&$%, explain any of this s$%& to the players. Focus on what the stat represents in the game world, how you’re going to describe it, and how it impacts the game. Let the players figure out how to mess with it.

And I have to say all of that because I know – I KNOW – that there’s a bunch of you who are just waiting to scream at me about the problems with the Whatever Stat. Or to start overcomplicating the s$&% out of it just like you keep doing to my beautiful tension pool. And you’re all f$&%ing wrong.

Why Are You Even Playing a Role-Playing Game?

Let’s pretend that I’m you instead of me. I’m an average, standard, modern GM who isn’t blessed with rugged good looks and game design genius. And I want to write an adventure wherein the party has to gain the favor of the emperor and ends up competing in some gladiatorial game. How would I do that?

Well, I’d probably start off doing something almost like the Crowd’s Favor Whatever Stat. I’d want to track the crowd’s disposition. But I’d quickly notice the crowd’s disposition really has two parts. First, there’s the overall level of excitement about the fight itself. Second, there’s the question of who the crowd is supporting. Except the crowd isn’t a monolith. Part of the crowd might support the heroes and part of it might support the opposition. So, really, I need to keep track of three things: the crowd’s excitement and their level of support for each fighter.

Now, I definitely want the crowd to influence the fight. So, I come up with a list of effects the crowd can impose on either side depending on its level of support for that side. And I decide that excitement works as a sort of multiplier. The more excited the crowd is in general, the bigger the support effects are on either side. That’s pretty neat.

Next, I have to figure out how the crowd’s support and excitement levels change. Obviously, there’s a list of game events that can affect those things. Things like rolling crits or using flashy spells or a combatant going into a berserker rage. I’ll need to make a list of those things and determine what they affect and how they affect it. But I also need some special actions the heroes – and their opponents – can take to influence the crowd. Special actions using social interaction skills, for example. I’ll need to figure out the mechanics for all that s$%&. And then I’ll need to type them up and hand them out to the players. The players have to know about their options. And since they can take those special actions and since I have three scores to keep track of, I’ll also come up with a neat score tracker to put on my arena map.

Now, there’s a good system for gladiatorial combat buried in there. I’m not saying there’s not. I know because I’ve built that system. That’s why I was able to rattle it off so easily. And lots of GMs have built lots of systems like that. But what ends up happening?

Well, like every new subsystem, it takes some time for everyone to learn it. Even for you, the person who wrote the subsystem. And most of the players won’t read the handout you made. So, you’ll be spending a lot of that first session explaining things and prompting the players and referencing all the charts you made. It’ll be slow and clumsy. It’ll be focused on the rules, not on the fiction of the game world. It won’t feel like exciting gladiatorial combat. It’ll feel like the first time you play a new board game.

And then what happens? Well, if this was a one-off thing – and it usually is – at the end of the session, you’ll take your gladiatorial arena rules and add it to the pile of single-use subsystems you’ve written over the years for all the different neat ideas you’ve had about neat things you can add to your game. Eventually, you might pull it out again, but everyone will have forgotten the rules by then. Even you. So, it’ll play just like the first session all over again. In fact, unless your campaign is going to focus on gladiatorial combat for the foreseeable future, your system is never going to get enough use to justify the work you put into it and it’s probably never going to feel natural.

And that time you spent building mechanics was time you didn’t spend writing the stuff that actually makes your game fun. Because mechanics don’t make your game fun. What makes the game fun are the cool, thematically costumed opponents the heroes fought. Or the unique arenas they fought in. Or that one game effect that saved their a$&es when they actually won over the crowd. My players do not remember the Tension Pool mechanics in my game. They remember that time when I rolled a Complication and reality shifted and they got pulled into the Shadowfell version of the dungeon they were trapped in.

But that’s not the biggest problem. The biggest problem is that role-playing games are not about mechanical systems and that mechanical systems often work against role-playing games. I’ve got an Ask Angry article coming this week that will address this very point vis-à-vis social interaction encounter systems. And I don’t want to pre-repeat all the stuff I’m going to say there. I’m just going to remind you that the USP of TTRPGs – the thing that makes role-playing games unique experiences – is the fact that the players get to project themselves into an imaginary world and do anything they can imagine. They aren’t constrained like they are in video games and board games. And that’s why RPGs need imaginative, subjective human brains to run them.

GMs don’t benefit from rigorous mechanical systems. Neither do players. Those things are great for video games run by computers. But human brains benefit from intuitive tools that empower them to describe the world and adjudicate whatever actions they can imagine. Sometimes rules and systems are necessary. I’ll never say they aren’t. But they aren’t a selling point for RPGs. They are a necessary evil.

The Whatever Stat is a simple, open-ended, versatile tool that is nonetheless very powerful when used by someone who actually understands how the f$&% a TTRPG works and what makes it great. But it doesn’t sit well with GMs who think ‘subjective judgment’ is a slur and who thinks emotions are for the weak and who wishes they were a Vulcan computer.

But I digress. Let me wrap up with a quick, rapid-fire list of things I can do or have already done at my table using the Whatever Stat and one type-written page of notes. Two tops. Not counting stat blocks and maps, obviously.

Lightning Round: Whatever Stat Examples

The ancestral castle is haunted and the party has to cleanse it. As the party explores the castle and solves its mysteries, they reduce the haunting level. But when they screw up, the haunting level rises and they have to deal with angry spirits trying to drive them out.

The town is being invaded. While the town guard fights the enemy army in the streets, the party tries to tip the balance of power by bolstering the town’s defenses or dealing with various emergencies. If the enemy gains the upper hand, important structures are destroyed and important officials are killed or captured. If the players gain the upper hand, though, important structures are fortified and important people are rescued from danger.

Or do the same thing during mass combat. While armies clash on the battlefield, the party has to find ways to swing the tide of battle by taking – or defending – strategic locations, sabotaging enemy artillery, or killing powerful enemy champions.

Is the ceiling getting closer? Are those barbed spikes? And are those swarms of poisonous scorpions pouring from the statue’s mouths? Do we fight the scorpions or try to prop up the ceiling? Can we sabotage the mechanism? Should the rogue try to disable the trap while the barbarian tries to smash down the door? Or maybe the rogue should pick the lock while the barbarian fights the scorpions and the rest of us try to jam the gears before the ceiling crushes us all.

Wilhelmina “Willie” Scott has been captured by the Thugee cultists and they are going to sacrifice her to Kali. They’re lowering her into the lava pit right now. The cultists have spotted the party. It’s going to be quite a fight. But someone better get to the wheel and pull Willie up before she bursts into flames.

The night is falling and the dead are rising from their graves. We’ll have to hole up in this cottage for the night. We’d better find ways to barricade all the doors and windows before the undead get in. Uh oh. They’re already here.

The captain is dead, the airship is already damaged and out of control, the boarders are wreaking havoc, and the skeleton crew can’t stabilize the ship on their own. If we can keep her in the sky just a little longer, maybe we can clear the wastelands. Otherwise, it’s going to be a hard walk back to civilization. Assuming we survive the crash.

The party is on a mission inside a secure, enemy facility. The plans they need to steal are in the most secure part of the base. If they can disrupt the base’s security or weaken the garrison somehow, they can make it a lot easier to grab the plans and run.

Five factions all struggle for political control of the city throughout the campaign and each faction controls a vital aspect of city life. The party can affect each faction’s level of influence by striking at their agents, disrupting their operations, and taking on missions for one faction against another.