A quick round robin for those in the peanut gallery: When did DMs become such major jerks? I stopped in to watch a game recently, just to see what was going on, and I have to say—I was taken aback. The DM running the table was… questionable. At best. He seemed so intent on killing everyone as fast as possible that the story was cast aside like yesterday’s trash, replaced by challenges that were clearly over-leveled or downright unfair. Some of those players were fresh faces, new to the game, maybe never to play again if they survived that mess. And survive they did—barely.
Later, when the game had broken up and almost all the characters were dead—bloodied, broken, and battered—I overheard the DM bragging about how tough his dungeons were. How he was probably one of the greatest DMs ever, no one could get through his stuff. I managed to snag one of the players, a kid looking shell-shocked, and asked them why they kept playing with this “world’s greatest” DM. The answer? They couldn’t get anyone else to run it. Nobody. I handed him one of my cards and told him to shoot me an email. We’d work out some kind of schedule—once or twice a month—where I could DM them, keep the slaughter to a minimum, and let the story breathe.
And I want to thank Ramona @Alderdoodle for her comments on that post. Honestly, her words made me think a lot about what we’re doing as DMs. It’s important—crucial, really—that we don’t discourage other players by browbeating them about how they play. As long as they’re following the rules, I say we’re good to go. It’s about having fun, not about flexing some kind of power trip.
I get it—one of the DM’s jobs is to challenge us. Hell, sometimes that challenge is what we live for. When the story calls for it, bring it on—I want to face level-appropriate monsters, test my characters’ limits, be pushed just enough to keep it exciting. But there’s a line. A terrible line. Some DMs out there think you can take a first-level fighter, arm him with a sword, and throw him straight into a fight with a black dragon—right out of the gate. No scratches on the armor, no hints of danger. Just “here’s your challenge, good luck.” Come on, people! What’s the plan? Wipe out every character so you can stand there, puff out your chest, and brag about how no one’s ever beaten your dungeon? That’s not a game. That’s ego. And guess what? Nobody wants to play with a DM who’s more interested in their own glory than in making the story fun.
Or maybe someday you’ll run into someone like me—someone who’s been in this game long enough to know the rules a little better than you think. Someone who’s secretly been planning how to dismantle your little power trip. We’ll gather a few friends, pretend to be clueless, and then watch as your dungeon crumbles under our collective smarts. That’s not revenge; that’s just good old-fashioned fun. But I’d never do that—at least, I say I wouldn’t. Maybe I’m lying. Maybe I’d take a little pleasure in showing you how it’s really done. Because that’s what D&D is about—challenging, yes, but fair. Fun, yes, but inclusive. It’s about adventuring in your imagination, forgetting whatever garbage is outside those game sessions, and just losing yourself in the story.
We don’t need some self-important puke-stain DM ruining it for everyone, just to stroke their own ego or get back to their Netflix binge. It’s only fun when we’re all having fun. Bring on the big monsters! But give us a fighting chance. Trap the rooms! But make sure the players have a way out. Keep the adventure long or short—whatever floats the story—but make sure it’s memorable. Make it challenging, but don’t make it impossible. Because at the end of the day, this game isn’t about proving you’re the toughest DM around. It’s about the laughs, the teamwork, the shared stories we’ll tell long after the dice have been put away.
So, yeah—I’m all for the challenge. But let’s keep it fun. Let’s remember why we started playing in the first place. To escape, to create, to connect. Not to dominate or humiliate. Because if we forget that, we’ve missed the point entirely.
