I Kill PCs Because I Care

I have a bit of a reputation in my social circle as a bit of a murderer. I kill PCs frequently and in spectacular fashion. I take my dice as they’re rolled unless the roll is going to dramatically alter the fun of an evening. I let my monsters crit just like my players, and I call for Saves vs Death frequently in my sessions. We joke about it and many memes are shared, but I don’t know that I’ve ever expressed why I GM this way. It’s because I care.

And no, I don’t mean that I’m trying to force my friends to become “better gamers” or any of that gatekeeping nonsense. I mean that I legitimately care about their characters. I care about their stories and their relationships, and I care about the danger they put themselves in while finding their fortune. But it’s because I care about these characters that I refuse to belittle their accomplishments by sanding off sharp corners or showering them in unearned magic items. I want these characters to earn what they have through their own sweat, blood, and tears. I want to see them elated, mournful, wealthy, broken, and triumphant. I want to see them experience the breadth of the human (or demi-human) experience because they’re only as real as we make them out to be. But that triumph demands a price.

Part of the reason I love OSR play is that it takes a holistic approach to a character’s journey. No journey worth recounting is a simple stroll through the Shire, we must eventually trudge the broken paths of Mordor. OSR play teaches us that failure is as valid as success in telling a character’s story, and that every story has an ending. There’s nothing more mind-numbingly boring to me than a story with no stakes, where superheroes defeat all opposition with ease.

A character that dies a coward’s death in an unknown tomb might not be remembered in their hometown, but that death will be remembered by us. We are the archivists of these intrepid, unlikely heroes as they precariously poke their way down dark corridors. These desperate knaves who have no other hope of fame and fortune other than the dragon’s hoard that they will either steal or die trying. These people are rolling the dice by suiting up and delving into the underworld, so why would we seek to fudge our own dice rolls?

This is the respect I show my players. The mutual understanding that I will present the world as meaningfully as I possibly can and in return they understand that worlds don’t have guard rails and warning signs. That adventuring is dangerous business. And that the reward for all this risk is more jewels than they can ever count. If you spring that trap, you better believe that I’ll be rolling the full 1d6 damage against your 2HP magic-user. But also know that every level and magic item that you wrest from the dungeon was truly won by your own wit and determination.

I know that this style of play isn’t for everyone. For some, RPGs are simply storytelling engines in which they weave low-stakes tales of powerful heroes laying waste to their enemies. It’s a power fantasy in which this self-made fan-fiction can take form, and that’s a completely valid way to come at RPGs. Really, as long as you and yours are enjoying yourselves then any way you approach RPGs is valid. Don’t let me detract from the stories you tell at your own table; never let anyone do that.

But for me, at my table, only telling a character’s triumphs in low-risk environments means that we’re only getting a portion of their story. I want to see their failures, their mishaps, and possibly even their end. I want to experience everything these characters have to offer, because I care about their stories.