Sooner or later, every DM has to deal
with the fact that all facets of his world
must yield to the world outside ? the one
calling his illusionist home for supper, or
his warlord to a 1 o'clock dental appointment.
It is, of course, the DM's whim (a phenomenon with which
any player is familiar) as to what he will
do with an errant PC's,
which we assume must now run around
the magical kingdom without a soul or
other guiding force. An aspiring DM will
usually have to work something out with
his players regarding their physical (or
mental) departure from the game by the
end of the first session he runs.

In the 11 years I?ve been playing D&D®
and other role-playing games, the solutions
my assorted DMs have come up with to
solve this problem have been varied, if not
to say fair. I wouldn?t call any DM fair who
had that kind of gleam in his eyes. Solutions
I have seen included:

1. Instant death. The character who is
withdrawn from a game in the midst of
combat is now dead. Generally, this elicits
protests from the player, who will soon be
late for his appointment because of arguing
with the DM. If arguing doesn?t work,
there is usually more delay while the
player negotiates (using ?spirit talk?) with
one of the other players to carry his character
?s body to a temple, roll for resurrection
or reincarnation, and in some cases
arrange probate for the character?s estate.
At this point, a danger of real death awaits
the player, whose parents or spouse have
been fuming in the car while waiting for
him all this time.

2. Unconsciousness. The character
lapses into unconsciousness and cannot be
hurt (except by large objects falling on
him). It is up to The DM whether the character,
in the player's absence, must be
carried home or comes out of it in time to
transport himself.

3. Teleportation to an inn. As soon as the
front door slams shut behind the player,
his player character vanishes in a puff of
magic from his friends--view and reappears
in front of a brimming brew in his
favorite inn's common room. His hit
points, experience points, and gold pieces
are intact (except for his bar bill) from the
point at which he left the adventure.

4. Banishment to Limbo. The DM we had
who sent the characters of departed players
instantly into Limbo, no saving throw,
lasted precisely three weeks in his position.
No one could get characters above
1st level, and after rerolling characters
three times running, no one wanted to try.

Then there are the difficulties resulting
when the body of the player is still there,
but the mind is not. For example, sessions
used to run rather long in the first
dungeon campaign in which I played. I
was not used to staying up past 1:00 A.M.,
and the games would grind on till then
from the early afternoon. I enjoyed the
games tremendously, and I didn't want to
miss a moment -- but by the witching
hour of 13 o'clock, my metabolism would
have thrown a sleep spell on me, and I?d
sink into incoherence and slumber. What
does the perfect DM do?

The basic question should be: How does
this person wake up? Is he inclined to be
violent? Clear-minded? If the answer to the
former is no and to the latter yes, you can
kick him awake every time you need him
to do something. If the opposite is true,
you may play his character for him or use
one of the methods described above for
players who leave the game. Do whatever
is safer and healthier for the continued
happiness of yourself and the player.

In the long sessions mentioned above,
my own DM allowed a combination of
those methods. When I fell asleep, my
wizard character was run by one of my
colleagues, who initially woke me up to get
a list of my character?s remaining spells,
then nudged me out of it when it was time
to go home. The DM also took an incriminating
picture of me curled up with his
cat, but you do not need to do that. Some
people are allergic to cats.

So what do you do when your paladin?s
player discovers that you have cable television,
and Star Wars is on during the
course of the game? The player ensconces
himself before the tube, happily reciting
every line right along with the characters,
laughing with the droids, and looking
distant and noble when Luke stares
bravely out at the setting suns on Tatooine.
Appeals to him to come back and play like
a paladin do not work. When your players
cry, ?Jonathon! There?s a dragon attacking!
? they get a response of: ?Ain?t like
dustin? crops, boy.?

This example is simply deliberate desertion.
The player is no more aware of what
is going on back in the game than is the
aforementioned sleeping player. However,
since the latter condition depends on
physiology, and the former on inclination
and the presence of a television, the DM
may feel that he can be a little harsher
with the former. After all, the paladin?s
player came to play a D&D game, and not
to enroll in the Jedi academy, right?

Then there is unavoidable desertion, as
when the volume of Coca-Cola and Orange

Crush your player has been ingesting
finally exceeds the capacity of his bladder.
If you ever intend to rotate the DM?s position
and play in a campaign run by one of
your players, it is wise to understand that
such things happen. Don?t call nastily
through the bathroom door, ?There was a
balrog, and your wizard got crisped!? This
is shooting at a helpless target. If the
player remembers this when it?s his time
to run the game, you?ll be sorry. Revenge
never allows saving throws. It?s better to
pause until nature has run its course (it
tends to go in cycles, so allow for it), then
resume the adventure.

Another point the DM needs to make
with his players early on is whether or not
the characters can hear ?spirit voices.?
This phenomenon usually occurs when
the party splits up, through death or distance,
when there is no earthly (or unearthly)
way that the character could
actually have heard his companions talking
to him. Thud the Fighter wanders all
by himself into the room with 17 doors on
the north wall. The disembodied voices of
his FRIENDS two levels down (who have
already passed through) advise him to pick
the middle one. Does the DM allow it?
Worse yet, what happens to Nebraska
Smith, sole survivor of an expedition, who
is getting lots of help from. his deceased
counterparts in solving a cryptic puzzle
that will save his life ? and incidentally,
the party?s treasure?

Some DMs honestly don?t care if their
players cross the lines of dungeon reality,
but some get really bent out of shape over
infractions. Depending on how fiendish
his trap is, and how long he?s been working
on it, your DM will exact appropriately
weighted punishment for spirit-voice aid,
especially if someone blurts out that the
Great Machine God is really Voyager 6,
and you can escape by throwing Duracell
batteries at it.

Admittedly, spirit voices are lots of help
if the players aren?t too experienced. The
group members need to work more
closely together to learn game mechanics.
But, from the DM?s point of view, spirit
voices can be a pain in the neck, and the
DM should say so if he feels that way. He
might not allow the active character to
benefit from the commission of what is in
his eyes a crime.

A DM may well have other laws intended
to make game play move faster. Is
he allergic to puns (a common and insidious
disease found in dungeoneering
groups) and so forbids them except at
meal breaks? Does he count down, then
subtract hit points from a character for
every clock minute that a player describes
a previous adventure?

The DM is trusting his players to play
fair That means everything from not
cheating on your number of available
spells, to keeping mum about a doppleganger
in your midst. It?s more fun to win
while sticking by the house rules. You
can't play D&D games without cooperating
with each other. By participating as a
player, you have made an unspoken agreement
to abide by the DM?s directions,
however silly. By accepting a player, you
have agreed to be as fair to him as you are
to all your other players. It makes more
sense than playing a D&D game all alone.

Otherwise, chances are very good that
the next time you go to the bathroom, a
balrog will crisp your wizard.
 

FEBRUARY 1988