Warning: The following show features stunts performed either by professionals or under the supervision of professionals. The producers must insist that no one attempt to recreate or re-enact any stunt or activity performed on this show.
That’s the kind of disclaimer you see in sports and extreme stunt shows (in fact, I ripped it right from the opening of Jackass). However, I think it applies just as well to Critical Role‘s current Dungeons and Dragons campaign.
The roleplay makes for fantastic watching, but I do not suggest novice players try the same thing at home. Campaign four bends the rules of strategic co-op gaming, and it breaks the expected social etiquette outright – several times.
It works because this is a group of professional actors. It also works because narrative is more important to the show than clever gameplay. You probably don’t have professional actors at your table, and you will almost certainly cause table drama if you ignore how the game works in favor of constant epic character moments.
With that in mind, here are the tricks Critical Role recently pulled that you shouldn’t try at home (at least without full consent from friends). Spoilers inbound for Critical Role campaign four:
Player vs player combat
Julien punched Wicander in one very in-character moment of player-on-player violence. Wick later retaliated with a slightly less in-character punch to the jaw, which seemed to earn Julien’s respect. This was a small moment of conflict that developed these two characters, but at a regular D&D table, even conflict this small can cause major problems.
The problem: Player-versus-player conflict, whether it’s a heated argument or a punch in the face, often gets taken personally. Many players struggle to separate themselves from their character in these moments. Is the party Monk insulting my Druid because their personalities clash, or is that player actually mad at me?
Additionally, D&D attracts players who enjoy playing the hero of a story. Being attacked by other characters often undermines that feeling of heroism. This means they might refuse to back down from a challenge. Rather than taking a hit on the chin, they’ll immediately strike back.
This, combined with personal upset, means player-on-player violence tends to escalate. One rude comment becomes a strike, which becomes a full-blown combat encounter. And, because D&D isn’t designed for two character sheets to go head-to-head, the fight is especially deadly – which leads to more hurt feelings. It’s a vicious cycle that can end campaigns.
The solution: Every campaign should start with a thorough session zero, and one of the first questions asked should be ‘how do we feel about player conflict?’. Establish how comfortable people are with their characters arguing and acting against each other. It should also be made clear that full player-on-player combat is a no-go for mechanical reasons – and the DM will stop the scene if it occurs.
After that, it’s a case of policing the table. That sounds harsh, but what I mean by that is creating a space where people can say if they’re feeling uncomfortable. The X card, or a safe word, can be used to halt any acting deemed too aggressive. I encourage the group to discuss any close calls to resolve any real-world emotions that might prevent players from having fun.
Not sharing the spotlight
At times, the attention each character receives in campaign four feels pretty uneven. Quiet characters like Vaelus, Kattigan, and Teor easily fade into the background. Meanwhile, bigger personalities who are immediately integral to the plot – Hal and Occtis, for example – take up more space. Hell, we just had an episode where Kattigan was kidnapped and Robbie had nothing to do for hours on end.
If you look at the bigger picture, Critical Role actually does quite a good job spotlighting each of its players. So far, the cold opens have been balanced well, and it’s clear Brennan Lee Mulligan is setting some characters up to become more crucial in future. It’s just that this balance is spread out across the campaign’s planned runtime – several years, if previous campaigns are anything to go by.
The problem: In a home game, however, players don’t know how long a campaign will last. And, because they aren’t performing for an external audience, they’re less inclined to take a back seat for weeks at a time.
Sessions where one character gets to do all the talking and make all the exciting decisions feel distinctly less fun when you don’t have a guaranteed payoff for your character in sight. Players who aren’t given enough to do will begin to feel left out and unimportant. And, if they’re not confident communicators, they might ditch the game rather than ask for support.
The solution: The Dungeon Master is usually the best judge of which players are most and least talkative, but they won’t always have the bandwidth to encourage quieter players to step forward. This means everyone at the table should be conscious of ‘the spotlight’ and who spends the most time standing in it.
Players who know they’re confident roleplayers should encourage their allies to participate. Ask them for their opinion on decisions. Start group conversations that create interesting roleplay moments with more than one voice. And, most importantly, know when it’s your DnD class‘ moment to shine – and when to step back so someone else can save the day.
Quieter players still need to put themselves forward, but if they’re struggling with this, they should let someone know. Approach your DM and fellow players, not to complain, but to ask for help creating moments for their character. The storytelling should be as cooperative as the combat encounters.
Splitting the party
Critical Role’s campaign four cast does this all the time. Perhaps the most egregious case is the Obrimus manor dungeon crawl. Teor went on a solo mission with his brother and…well, you know what happened. Thimble then went alone back into the dark to search for Teor, leaving Occtis and Julien to attempt a stealth mission of their own – despite how hard Julien tried to leave everyone behind.
The problem: D&D follows the law of action economy. Basically, the side that gets to take more turns usually wins. That makes any solo combat encounter a death wish.
That’s fine if you’re happy to kill your character off in service of the narrative. However, players generally enjoy stories about their character, which means keeping them alive to tell them.
Plus, D&D’s combat is profoundly unsatisfying to play when the odds are stacked in one side’s favor. The thrill comes from not knowing the outcome! Plus, solo fights can exacerbate that spotlighting issue above. One player gets all the glory – or all the disappointment when they get totally wailed on by the NPCs and don’t get to use their cool class powers. That’s no one’s idea of a heroic fantasy.
The solution: This is a simple solve. Many DMs make it clear that ‘don’t split the party’ is one of their top rules. They might gently nudge players away from solo missions, dropping hints that this would be an absolutely terrible idea. Failing that, they’ll cut the action entirely to prevent a solo mauling.
Never forget that, in its true form, D&D is a team game. You’re more likely to survive fights when you stick together. Your friendships are also more likely to survive if you stick together. There are many lessons you could learn from Critical Role, but it keeps one of D&D’s top tips hidden under the table – be kind to each other. Work together, even when it seems like you aren’t.
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Source: Wargamer
