… is the absolute worst element to introduce into a campaign. It literally means “the God on a Machine” referring to how old Greek storytellers lower God characters on mechanical cranes to affect ridiculous plot changes in their plays.
One of the cardinal rules of running an RPG campaign is always that the DM should stay out of the picture. But to have the DM present himself as clouds in the shape of a middle finger, and a portal with hands and kicking feet that sticks healing wands in ears… is just ridiculous. Read the entry below this one if you don’t know what I’m talking about. What happens to the character’s reality then? Yes, story is an important part of it, having fun is an important part of it, but considering that it is a game, the rules are also an important part!
If we’re going to play by the rules of deus ex machina, we might as well just play the, “because-I-said-so” game of 5 year old kids.
I’ve got this sword, and it can slice a bunch of stuff.
Oh ya. I got this shield that your sword can’t slice.
Yeah, but I also have this whip which can whip off that shield you have so that my sword can cut you.
But my shield is attached to my arm. See this arm strap I have? It’s magical and cannot be loosened.
I have a scroll of dispel magic that can get rid of the magic on the strap!
I burn your scroll with my staff-of-burn-that-specific-scroll-you-have!
You can’t do that!
Yes I can!
Mommy!!!
It’s quite a different story if the DM fudges dice in favor of one outcome or another – the characters that we are role-playing in the game can still perceive their reality in a way that makes sense for them. I’ve made the clouds rumble in fury every now and then in my own campaigns, but weather changes nothing. Introducing ridiculous, but hilarious situations (an artillery wardrobe of arrow firing, a pool of estrogen) is completely plausible – magic exists in our world after all. As long as it doesn’t turn reality for the characters upside down. But in all situations the player must always be given options when it comes to interactions with these situations.
When the player has no choice, and things simply happen to him, it is no longer a game. It is an ego-tripping GM because-I-said-so session. Unless that’s one hell of a story that’s being told, not a lot of players will want to stick around. We’re just listening after all.
Yeah sure, it is always possible to come up with some in-game explanation for deus ex machina used without much forethought. A female God may have the hots of me and wanted to fondle me, but erased my memory to avoid embarassment. Rubbish like that destroys stories, no matter how good they are, because once that sense of realism is lost, it is lost, no matter how good the cover up is.
A piece of advice to DMs – be properly aware of how you choose to handle absent players. If he’s absent for a whole session, it may be plausible to explain it by him falling sick, or deciding to stay at the tavern. But if the player is merely late not by his own mistake, and will join the session halfway through, using in game elements may end up in disastrous and unfair results.
Like, having the villain kidnap the character halfway through battle. Not only are the other players disallowed from reacting, and is therefore robbed of choices in a game about choices (no AAO, nope there needs not be a grapple check, the villain enters superpower mode and just picks up the target and disappears, and for some reason the kidnapped person doesn’t scream to give a hint as to which direction he might be going), the late player ends up sitting around waiting to be discovered and rescued, wasting half his playtime. Not to mention that he loses all his gold and his spellbook for no good gameplay reason whatsoever other than to have it ‘make sense.’ In short, the player gets punished quite heavily for doing absolutely nothing wrong, other than informing the DM early that he cannot make it on time for a game.
I cannot say this enough, sometimes it is best so simply let the character disappear and reappear later without any in game explanation or ridiculous description. It’s not as though the other players aren’t keenly aware of the player’s absence, and once he arrives, that you’re only employing excuses to put him back in the game…
We’ve got an ongoing joke in our games, if a character isn’t there, or if someone has to go, they’re enclosed in an impervious pink bubble that is only visible to us (and, in comedic moments, other people). The sound of *pop* usually heralds a player arriving/returning.
Ah, those pink bubbles…
By: Dethro on August 23, 2008
at 12:28 am