How Lazy Are You?

Come for the video link, stay for the Le Guin reference

I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from posting as my summer projects begin to come due, and there’s a possibility of a couple more quiet weeks in August as we ramp up for the fall semester on campus. I was right in the middle of a Knave-focused city build and I want to get back to it, but for this post, I want to talk about a recent video from adventure writer extraordinaire Joseph R. Lewis.

Now, for the most part, Lewis’s videos are about the craft of adventure writing, but this one was made in response to a podcast Lewis had listened to from Mike Shea, the Lazy Dungeon Master guy. Shea, who has built a brand around prepping for games, admitted on this particular episode that he always felt at least some stress before games and suggested that this was just part of being a Game Master. Lewis, quite reasonably, said he didn’t want to have a lot of stress involved in his hobby, and suggested that running adventures removed a great deal of the stress.

Now, you can definitely argue that as an adventure writer, Lewis has a vested interest in supporting module play rather than the bespoke prep play that Shea advocates (again for perfectly valid reasons). But I’ve moved into the adventure game world in the last few years, and I can absolutely confirm Lewis’s assertion that running with modules takes the stress out of prep to an almost ridiculous degree. On weeks when I’m running a module, my prep time is maybe ten minutes, and a lot of that is wrestling with putting maps into a VTT. If I don’t have to worry about that, I amuse myself by looking for ways to re-work treasure from whatever system the module comes from into Knave treasure, which is almost always superior.

So I agree with Lewis, but I think the deeper question is the nature of the Game Master’s job. Shea is stressed because he’s trying to provide a bespoke experience for his players. Lewis is not stressed because he’s just doing the job of interpreting and refereeing his players’ experience of the module. The difference in stress results from the difference in jobs. Of course you’re going to be stressed if you’re trying out new material every single game. But why would you do that to yourself? Moreover, why would you do that to your players? Even comics don’t do entirely new jokes every performance.

One of the maxims of adventure gaming is ‘Divest yourself of the characters’ fate.’ I can’t think of a way to say it better. I don’t stress about my game because it’s not my job to create an experience for my players. I just run the world. They can do whatever they want to do, it doesn’t matter: I just apply the systems and adjudicate the outcomes. Edmund Burke famously said that ‘Example is the school of Mankind and he will learn at no other.” How many stress-filled prep sessions do you have to go through before you look for another way? You’re supposed to be having fun. Why are you torturing yourself?

The response, of course, is that Shea’s players are getting that specialized bespoke experience that a module doesn’t offer. And maybe that’s worth the stress of one participant of the game to achieve. But here’s what I’d say: if that’s the case, then that stress should be reciprocated with payment, and I’m not just talking about buying the pizza. If you expect one of your friends to put way more effort into an activity than you do, then that friend deserves to be compensated somehow. I find the whole idea of paying for a GM rather strange, but that’s because I don’t worry about tying in backstories, or pacing, or giving different characters the limelight. ‘Oh, but he loves designing and running the game for us,’ you say, ‘he wants to do it.’ Sure he does. And you’re just going to let him? Are you his friend or aren’t you?

The more I play adventure games, the more I feel there’s an imbalance of power in traditional RPGs and that imbalance is growing. Shea’s ever-present stress is a natural response to it and should serve as a warning sign to those with eyes to see. Thankfully, more and more people are seeing the value of adventure games in restoring balance to the gaming table and letting everyone have fun. You don’t have to be the sole supporting pillar of your campaign, you don’t have to single-handedly craft epic fantasy for everyone else to enjoy. You can walk away from Omelas.

And when you do, Joe Lewis will be there with some pretty cool adventures to sell you.