I’m currently in the midst of my debut as a Game Master (not to be confused with GamesMaster, the marvellously weird 1990s TV show in which Sir Patrick Moore told you how to win at computer games). A Game Master, or GM, is the person who runs a table-top roleplaying game (TTRPG). It’s also known as a Dungeon Master, or DM, in Dungeons and Dragons.

I’ve played lots of TTRPGs over the last two years as part of the Dice Company podcast, with the brilliant Tom as GM/DM. As a player, you get to explore a world – and a story – largely created by someone else. You contribute to that, of course, but everything from the names of towns and cities to the accents of goblin bartenders is set by the GM.

Exploring worlds woven by Tom is a stress-free pleasure (unless, y’know, my character gets murdered). I plan stuff for my character, but mostly I react to what Tom and the other players come up with.

Now I’m in the hotseat for the first time. For Dice Company’s Halloween special, I’m GMing a game of Kids on Bikes – a TTRPG based around 1980s children riding their BMXs into mystery and danger (think Stranger Things, the Goonies, etc). Four players have stepped into a world created in my imagination.

Verdict so far: it’s sort of wonderful. My usual writing style – whether it’s fiction, non-fiction or journalism – aligns well with a quote often attributed to Ernest Hemingway: “There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.” I agonise over word choices, wake up worrying about plot points, and sometimes delete whole sections that have gone awry.

As GM, you can’t do that. If you take a wrong turn, you’d better find a way to recover. And – while extremely unsettling – that turns out to be great fun. I took the wise advice of Tom and many others – “trust thy players” – and I’ve let them drive the story as much as I can. And (writing this after recording part two of three or four) they’re doing a brilliant job.

As I’m running a haunted-house story, my approach has been to sketch out the rooms and the broad basis of the mystery, then hope my brain can lay the track fast enough when the players go in unexpected directions. I’ve stuttered and stumbled a little, but mostly I’ve concealed any moments of panic from the players (you can judge for yourselves in a few weeks, when the podcast will be out).

Anyway, better go. I need to plan part three, in which I’m aiming to sail between two rocky islands: the one where the players solve the mystery in five seconds, and the one where all the characters die. I’m not sure either would count as a successful GM debut.

Comfort fiction

As a believer in the comforting power of fiction, I always want familiar favourites to hand. Tough day? Reach for a much-loved story. But I’ve never thought of picking up my own writing in that situation – so the following (said by Gwendolen in The Importance of Being Earnest, by Oscar Wilde) made me laugh: “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

Dicing with death

Earlier this month, we got the lovely news that Dice Company has been shortlisted for not one but TWO Independent Podcast Awards (in the comedy and gaming categories). We got a comedy nomination last year (we didn’t win) but – by my maths – two nominations is way more than one. So that’s good.

We’re heading to the awards ceremony in London next month, and I’m already practising my “gracious loser” face. Not that it’s live on TV or anything – it just feels like a fun thing to practise. In truth, I’ve got no idea what our chances are. The other podcasts are pretty good. But we’re on the list, so we have to hope. In a way, I’d feel more comfortable if all the finalists had to roll dice to see who wins. 

Thanks for reading.

Alex