May 21, 2026
When you roll the dice to do something and you fail, it's not because your character is dumb and bad at what they were doing. It's because the situation didn't allow for it.
If you try to break down a door and you fail, it's not cause you're weak and stupid and your axe is dull and you're an embarrassment to barbarians everywhere. It's because the door is too strong for that. Maybe it's reinforced. Or magical. Or the floor is too slick for you to get good footing.
This little shift in thinking accomplishes two things. One, it should reduce the threat to player ego. Players get weirdly egotistical when it comes to their characters' successes and failures. In the past, I've had players get visibly frustrated to the point of not wanting to play when their character fails a couple of times. (This doesn't happen so much anymore because I've pre-empted this problem... with the solution I'm writing about.) Nobody likes it when their character looks stupid or does badly, especially at things at which they should excel, and even upon which they should succeed automatically. Even if you're not playing a heroic-traddy game, your players want some protagonist energy.
Second, it completely circumvents dogpiling. When the barbarian fails to break down the door, it's jarring and inconsistent with their world. What often happens from here? Another player jumps in and says, "Let me try, I have a club to bash it down with." This is one of my biggest pet peeves in gaming. Dogpiling. Letting more characters try the same thing, which slows down the game, strips the narrative away and makes it just an exercise in pointless dice rolling. Players no longer have to, nor want to, come up with creative solutions. Just use the obvious one and roll a bunch more times. Boring.
Conventional wisdom is correct here - you can't attempt the same action without a change in the situation. If you want to try to break the door down, you can't just try it again with narratively-indistinct changes (like using a club instead of an axe, or getting a running start or something like that.) You have to actually have spent some time or resource or made some decision that changes the situation. But this conventional wisdom, in my opinion, could use a fresh coat of paint. By thinking about this problem in different terms, it may be more effectively seeded in both players' and gamemasters' heads.
The result isn't your characters' fault, it's the situation's fault, and you can address that situation head on. The dice told you something new and true about the scenario. It should expand your worldview. It should give you something interesting to work on. (Why is this door reinforced? How is it reinforced? What does that mean? Is there a wizard in here reinforcing doors? Has this door even been opened by its current occupants? What mysteries does the door reveal?)
So, yeah. Adjust your way of thinking about how dice interact with the fiction.
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