Pass/Fail Sucks and You Can Change That

In Dungeons and Dragons, we use the good ol' twenty-sided die. Unless someone has some kind of bonus like the #blessed spell, or Bardic Inspiration, that is the only dice we roll, we add our relevant modifiers to a check, and then we compare them to a DC set by the Dungeon Master or formulas that run the rules system. How many times have you failed a check, a saving throw, an attack by 1 point? It's pretty frustrating. Albeit, in our favorite game's fifth edition, we have a bounded accuracy system, meaning target numbers are easy to hit and the standard deviation of those target numbers is much smaller, leaving us a much more narrow window of failure, generally. That definitely helps. However, failure is still a possibility. For those of you that recognize that ridiculous looking "Super F" from Nickelodeon's The Fairly Oddparents, you may agree that sometimes failure in Dungeons and Dragons feels like being in Mr. Crocker's class. F's are handed out arbitrarily especially when success matters most, and the progression of pivotal scenes depends on success. Though if Dungeon Masters and players work together, you may be able to tell more interesting stories that incorporate success, failure, and the degrees between.

The Plot Thickens

Continuing with Fairly Oddparents theme, as it is an amusing venue for now. In the show, for those of you that aren't familiar, Timmy Turner, the main character, can have almost every wish he has granted by his fairy godparents. His antagonistic teacher, Mr. Crocker, is a bit of a conspiracy theorist and firmly believes in the existence of fairies. In most episodes, Timmy makes a wish and it is pretty flawlessly granted to him. His fairy godparents, Cosmo and Wanda, are benevolent creatures and seek to make him happy, so his wishes are generally pretty flawless. However, there is usually some sort of caveat to his wish that Timmy, Cosmo, and Wanda, generally don't predict. Therein you have the plot for the whole show. When Mr. Crocker is involved, generally Timmy's sudden good luck, status, wealth, or possession of some advanced technology, clues Mr. Crocker in to the idea that something fairy related is happening. He then pursues Timmy and his fairy godparents in hope of capturing the fairies. Not before having some kind of monologue that results in his spastic conclusion that it is none other than the work of "FAIRY GOD PARENTS!"

We can actually learn from this formula, although actual wishes are rarely involved, in this analogy, Timmy is very much like the typical D&D player. He states what he wants, asks his fairies to make it happen, and they do their best to make it happen. The dice are like how well that desire plays out and the DM determines what that means. In most cases, in the tradition of the way the game has been played, success is an automatic yes, and failure an automatic no. Many dungeon masters don't often depart from this paradigm, and a lot of games seek to address this seeming disparity by adding complications or advantages, and I even chose that route in Chronicle and Tale, but I have awesome news, success on a linear die like a d20 does not need to be binary. Like Mr. Crocker catching on to Cosmo and Wanda and Timmy's "failure", a "failed roll" can still be success with a setback.

Scary Binary

What do I mean when I say linear die and binary results? For those of you who may not know, a linear die system is one like the d20 system where results fall neatly between 1 and 20 (before modifiers) therefore on a straight line. Binary success is succeeding, or you don't. Each face has a 5% chance of being rolled. Modifiers essentially are the means of placating fortune. The higher the modifier, the higher the average role. A modifier of +2 modifies the chance of hitting the target result by 10 percent, and so on. Though the idea that a target number is really the breaking point for success with every other number below it being completely unrelated to the preceding numbers is a bit of a jump in logic and the metaphor or "abstraction" of a forces that the dice represent. There is a really important part of the Player's Handbook that I think a lot of people miss, or are unsure how to use:

Let me zoom in for you:

The Player's Handbook makes the suggestion of success with a setback. That in itself is a powerful tool, but let's not stop there. Because, I want to really give you and the rest of your table something good that my friends and I have been trying to really implement-- stop hiding your DCs and your ACs. The numbers are abstractions and representations, and your character is not in a vacuum. A person can gauge whether or not the can jump a particular distance, climb a wall, or even be familiar with a subject. For instance, I have no clue how calculus works. I never took it in high school. However, I know where to go should I need questions about calculus answered and I know a little bit about the history of calculus. I know that, based on what I know, if I was handed a calculus problem, I'd have a very hard time solving it.

So, let's use a real world hypothetical. One of my students from the college I work at, is working in Microsoft Excel, which I know. Then, for whatever reason, this student, Jim, needs to know how to enter a series of calculus problems in to the spreadsheet. Jim hands me the paper, and I look at the equation, but I have no idea how it works. I know this is some pretty advanced stuff, but I only got as far as intermediate algebra. I don't have a very high Intelligence (Mathematics) skill modifier, but I give the equation a try, and to my lack of surprise, I don't succeed in solving the problem, nor am I closer to understanding what I am trying to read. However, I can bring this problem to any of the math tutors in the other room and find my answer, doing so, does get my least favorite colleague's attention, who we'll call Tommy. I don't want Tommy thinking I am interested in calculus, or math in general because Tommy sucks as a person. Despite understanding calculus, Tommy is an idiot and now proceeds to think that I want to be taught math the rest of the week. Despite the fact that I failed my skill check, I still got my answer, it just came with unwanted attention. I knew that I probably couldn't understand the math problem I was presented with, but I did get it solved at a cost- my sanity.

The Game is Afoot

I know my themes are all over the place today, but bear with me. There is a method to my madness. In Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes' series, Sherlock solves crimes and he's amazing at it. If you play D&D, you probably know who the hell Sherlock Holmes is and what he does. If Sherlock Holmes could fail an Investigation check, the story ends. If the game (as Holmes calls it) hinges upon a compiling information, the story ends if he can't find anything. However, despite his powers of observation, Sherlock is allowed to miss details. In fact there are many stories where he makes the wrong conclusion based on a detail he missed, or misinterpreted. That setback we identified previously could be something like that. A roll that the plot depends on that can be failed and gain nothing from is a poorly crafted device. The story ends. Pack up your dice, and go home. But if your story continues with a complication, your story goes on and gets more interesting for you and the players. Sometimes a more intricate problem makes for a better story. Though, mastering complications can be harder than mastering failure. Though complication should be an *ahem* elementary feature of your story telling. Without it, you may feel like victory has been spoonfed to your players.

Recently, I played in a game of Call of Cthulu while I was at Acadecon and it was a pretty great time, though I had one major criticism: The GM had us roll Spot check after Spot check that never had any result to it. Even though this GM was clearly experienced, I got the impression, that the story he was trying to tell hinged too much on hoping the characters noticed things. After our 5th Spot check we had to make with a 25% success rate, I was pretty resigned to assuming that he'd simply grow tired and allow whatever it was to happen regardless of whether or not we saw it. However, his alternative was simply complicating the scene.

Why'd You Have to Go and Make Things So Complicated?

Because, Avril, complications in story telling can be pretty awesome. Though it is mastering those complications that really make a story stand out. Here are a few rules for skill checks in general:

Make sure the players understand the stakes or apparent consequences of failure. There is nothing wrong telling them the DC of a skill check either. If you'd rather not be exact tell them on a difficulty scale, i.e Easy, Moderate, Challenging, etc.
If something is impossible, say that, but don't only say "it's impossible," tell the players your logic behind it.
If something can be failed, say that.
20's and 1's are not magic. Just because a 20 happens does not mean the universe unfolds for the character, and a 1 does not mean that the universe collapses on the character. Unless you are in a comedic game where anything happens, the rules of the universe still apply.
When you rule for a partial success, talk it out. Giving your players a crappy deal isn't better than failure. Partial successes should feel like some ground was gained in the exchange.
If failing means the story can't progress, have a few complications in mind for "failing forward".

I don't need to hold your hand, but with this guide, hopefully you can break out of the idea of simple pass/fail systems. Sometimes failure is necessary to a story. Without conflict there is no drama. Mastering this balance will improve your technique as a game master and the way your players engage with you, the game, and the story. Try it with your table and ease into it. Let me know in the comments, or on Twitter @Archmage_Derek your thoughts and how this works out.

Next week, we finally start the D&D Hermit's Guide to Cyphersystem.