Hey, DMs, we need to talk. Look, we get it, you’re the unsung hero of your table. The one who spends hours juggling rulebooks, crafting worlds, fine-tuning encounters, and dealing with that one player who insists their “Chaotic Neutral” excuse justifies assassinating the king for no reason. But here’s the deal—even heroes can have… flaws. Yeah, I said it. Stick around because we’re about to point the spotlight on some DM bad habits that might be ruining your game (and no, it’s not your players’ fault this time).
You know who you are. “You enter a room… It’s rectangular, the walls are lined with moss, lit by a faint blue glow. Three chandeliers hang from the vaulted ebony ceiling, crafted in what looks like ancient dwarven style, probably from Dagranor circa 1503 or thereabouts. There are 432 candlesticks.” STOP. Just stop. We get it, you’re Hemingway meets Tolkien, but your players stopped caring after “chandeliers.” They’re not here for a verbal museum tour; they’re deciding if they want to kill, loot, or interrogate whatever’s lurking in the room. Keep the overly poetic descriptions for your novella.
What to do instead: Highlight the relevant stuff and give just enough crumbs for players to ask questions. Keep the rest in your notes where they belong.
Ah, yes, the classic “railroad” trick. Nothing screams, “Sit there quietly while I tell you my epic story,” like forcing your players into a single path. They’ll call it out too, trust me. “Oh, a landslide conveniently blocked the ONLY other road? Yeah, sure, totally natural.” At this point, they’re not adventurers making choices; they’re just glorified audience members. And no one signed up for that.
What to do instead: Create story hooks and multiple options. More paths might mean more chaos, but hey, that’s why we love D&D, right? Controlled chaos.
“Goblin sees you. Goblin attacks. Roll initiative.” Oh, how original. What’s next, the mimic chest cliche? Unless you’re running a dungeon of brain-dead automatons (which, uh, still seems uncreative), even the simplest creatures have basic survival instincts. Give them a goal. Maybe that goblin is a snarky opportunist who tries to barter instead. Or, better yet, give your players ROOM to decide how this encounter unfolds.
What to do instead: Play out encounters with nuance. Threaten. Intimidate. Bargain. Not everything needs immediate sword-to-face action. If your gaming style is “kill on sight,” you might as well be playing Diablo.
Your players do something unexpected, and now you’re scrambling to justify a demon prince targeting the bard instead of the rogue. “It’s because…um… listen, the bard radiates celestial energy that enrages demons.” Cue suspicious looks from the table. Look, we get it, nobody wants to get accused of metagaming as a DM, but if you’re over-explaining every single decision, it just screams insecurity.
What to do instead: Your job isn’t to justify every move; it’s to keep players immersed in the story. Sometimes, a demon charges the bard because that’s what makes the moment more epic. End of story.
“Hey DM, I think these puzzles are kind of dragging the game down.” Cue the death glare. We’ve all been there. Criticism, constructive as it may be, stings. But if your response to feedback is a stubborn “This is MY campaign, deal with it,” you’re walking on thin ice, friend. Your players might eventually check out. And when they do? Enjoy your solo RPG sessions.
What to do instead: Accept feedback like a pro. Ask genuine questions like, “What’s something we could improve?” If anything, it shows you value their input—which makes everyone’s experience better.
Look, maybe Carly’s rogue is amazing with all her backflips and witty dialogue, but if every single NPC decides they only talk to her, or every big treasure item conveniently aligns with her class, the table’s gonna notice. And they’re going to call you out. You’re not fooling anyone.
What to do instead: Spread the love (not spoon-feed). Balance encounters. Reward everyone, not just your star player who happens to be your college roommate.
Here’s a reality check for all the DM martyrs out there: if you’re not having fun, your table’s gonna feel it. Running a game shouldn’t feel like a chore. If every session is draining the life out of you like Strahd at an all-you-can-eat peasant buffet, it’s time to recalibrate.
What to do instead: Build stories you care about. Find the balance. Yes, your party’s fun matters, but so does yours. Burnout doesn’t look good on anyone, especially DMs.
Bad habits happen to the best of us. Nobody’s perfect, even behind the DM screen. But the trick is nipping these habits in the bud before your players start throwing d20s at your head in frustration. Keep your storytelling tight, include your players’ input, and most importantly, make sure everyone, including yourself, is having fun.
Remember, your players might groan at your puzzles or roll their eyes when the mimic shows up, but they’ll never forget the time your goblin king broke down into tears because he only ever wanted a friend. DMing isn’t easy, but it sure as hell is rewarding. Now, go forth, break habits, and create the best damn sessions you can.
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