Let's try something a little different. Let's have you write the article. Seriously. I'm going to pose a question and invite you to share your answer in the comments. I just need about 1,750 words to pose the question just right. There's more to it than just asking whether it's okay for players to read the Dungeon Master's Guide. A lot more. Once you all give your answers, I promise I'll give mine.

I love rolling dice as much as anyone. That's why I love roleplaying games so huggy much and why I won't buy any game that takes the Game Master's dice away. But you can't build gameplay challenges on dice rolling alone and that ain't just me talking. In the second essay in my three-part series on proper gameplay and challenge design, we're going to talk about why naked die rolling isn't gameplay. According to actual experts.

I know it's been a little quiet since my last update last week. I want to check in to keep the lines of communication open.

It's time close this Stupid Narration Tricks series once and for all. We had some fun, but it's time to move on. In this final entry, I'll share the two tricks I left unshared last week. Because, now that you've learned how to hide details in plain narrative sight, you're ready to use repetition to make patterns and break them. Assuming you're good enough.

It's time for a big update. I'm back. I'm recovered from my post travel illness. I feel like some light and passion have come back into my life. Time to throw myself into this crap with gusto.

In this penultimate lesson in my Stupid Narration Tricks series, I want show you the first of three tricks used by George R. R. Martin to hide important clues in plain narrative sight so that you can give your players a chance to spot important details and solve mysteries without falling back on die rolls and obvious expository reveals. The final lesson, next week, will cover the other two.

I love open-ended creative problem as much as anyone. It's why I love tabletop roleplaying games oh so huggy much. But it's too brittle to rely upon as core gameplay and that ain't just me talking. There's years of cognitive research about how people engage with open-ended "insight problems" showing that they're just not a great thing to build gameplay around. That's right; I brought receipts for the first in this three-part series about a more comprehensive approach to challenge design that allows for open-ended creativity and dice-rolling without letting either break the gameplay experience.

After showing y'all how to map a pretty good dungeon, I got some lip from some readers who don't understand the difference between "maps as art" and "maps as game design," and think you can design a good game in a stolen map. I also got told off from someone who thinks "you don't have to show your players the map" means "I never have to map an adventure properly again." So let's talk about mapping like real gaming adults, shall we?

The end of the month fast approaches and I am still in recovery mode. I will also be away for a week. Let me catch you up.

Why are some parts of tabletop roleplaying games so weirdly hard to handle: social interactions, traps, wilderness travel, downtime, and lots of other crap that should be core fantasy adventure gameplay. The problem isn’t bad mechanics, but missing mental models. There just aren’t any conceptual tools that help Dungeon Masters and players understand how the world works, make strategic choices, and actually play the parts of Dungeons & Dragons that shouldn’t be nearly as hard as they are.