One of the many problems referees encounter is the notion of how much they should prepare for a given session or campaign. Roleplaying games are very open-ended, which can often impose the feeling of a lack of structure when it comes to scenarios, and unfortunately most RPG texts don’t do a great job at providing new referees with tools or procedures to conduct play of any length greater than a combat or a “scene.”
Often this leads to over-preparation – worried that something will happen that will be unaccounted for, the referee tries to come up with absolutely every situation that could occur in game, and after learning that this is impossible, instead leans on techniques that reduce player agency. If the possibility space of what can happen is limited to only what is accounted for, then the referee is covered, right?
This is probably not new to anyone reading my blog, we’ve all (hopefully) progressed past the 90s and early 00s style of illusion of freedom style games, but there are always new referees joining the hobby.
Unfortunately the advice they’re often given is flippant, and the absolute reverse of “prep everything” – instead they are told to “prep nothing.” You especially see this in indie and DIY scenes where this kind of play can be popular. And I think there is a place for completely improved sessions, just as I think there is a place for consensual railroads – they’re just different styles. But I think advising new referees to “just wing it” is just as problematic as telling them they have to account for every possibility.
Improv Isn’t Easy
To just tell someone to improvise several hours of NPCs, locations, items, quests, challenges, combat encounters, is a massive endeavor. Especially if they have yet to really learn what makes any of those, or other game elements, “work” in a fictional world.
This is also pretty dismissive of how much of a skill improvisation is. There’s a reason why improv performers have to try out for places in a troupe. Whole businesses are built around the concept of teaching the skill. Even within roleplaying games, it has become very in-vogue to host workshops adapting improv for tabletop gaming, and Karen Twelves has written a book on the subject.
It’s not a skill that can just be formed spontaneously, especially in a hobby notable for its inclusion of less socially adept people (myself included).
Spontaneity Fatigue
Spontaneity, while exciting, can be mentally exhausting, particularly for those who thrive on structure and planning. Constantly needing to generate material on the fly can lead to burnout, I find this to be especially true in situations that continually ask the GM for “mixed results” – needing to always tell a player “you kinda get what you want, but you also kinda don’t,” when the statistical chance is going to be a repeat of this result when they try to find an alternative path.
Additionally, the necessity to come up with ideas quickly often results in the referee falling back on their most familiar tropes and clichés. The first idea that comes to mind isn’t always the best, and without the time to refine and develop these concepts, the situation can become predictable and less engaging. I know when I get tired, needing to spontaneously formulate big pieces of a situation can lead to a reliance on well-worn paths and typical responses rather than fresh ideas.
Balancing Improv & Prep
The best way I have found to feel comfortable for a scenario is to balance improvisation and preparation. This advice will be familiar to anyone who has read anything by Kevin Crawford or the Alexandrian. Prep while you’re having fun, or feel that what you are preparing could be useful, while keeping in mind that players may attempt anything sensible. Formulate tools and procedures to help guide you and your table when uncertainty comes up. Make plans for what may happen, but leave a lot of open areas for weird player hijinks to flourish, and for novel characters and situations to flourish unexpectedly.
Spontaneity fatigue is such a huge problem. I really do love an improv-heavy game, mainly for the ability to play on a car or train ride. But my limit is a pretty clean 90 minutes before I exhaust my abilities. And like you said, “just make it up” often leads new GMs to run games that play like elementary school D&D.
A problem I’ve found when I’ve tried to run improv heavy sandbox campaigns is that whatever I’ve improved isn’t very well considered. It can introduce things to the campaign that in hindsight I would have rather not have had in the campaign.
I also almost always come up with a better idea than the one I had at the table. It’s like driving home from work and having a sudden idea about what I should have said to that jerk in the meeting this afternoon.