Then have them save versus healing. That should get their attention.

That’s the thing. I’m with you. I see what happens in that hut as a natural consequence of player action. They went to the home of a crazy mysterious lady said to truck with faeries because they want to get to the land of the Hunt! Why should they get to gripe when that’s exactly what freakin happens? I don’t see this as railroading at all. I see it as just a natural part of the story.

But having done something almost identical recently… the first thing I heard out of a players mouth, “but I don’t get a save against that?” That’s what prompted my comment more than anything else.

Course you realize I just can’t NOT argue against those issues in at least some small fashion.
So…

1. Presumption granted. Fortunately I’ve found a few players willing to buy in knowing there’s a great story and some good fun for all to be had if they give up complete autonomous control of all their character’s details. Granted, this isn’t necessarily the norm for a lot of players today. So I’ll concede this point.

2. However, I’d argue that no save should be allowed in point #2 simply because the final destination of the spell was the desire of the characters.

I’m with you in the belief that sometimes the heroes finding themselves over their heads and at the mercy of their desires is very thematic in most literature. From a gaming viewpoint, that ignoring player agency in order to grant player desire is sometimes seen as railroading is probably worthy of a whole series of blog posts.

1. It presupposes that the PCs have someone they actually care about enough to risk such a thing. Which, in theory, sounds great but I find that telling the PCs they have someone they care about enough to actually risk this just won’t work — the players have to buy in first. (I realize that this was a thought exercise and that you could easily make this first hurdle into an opportunity not an obstacle — just pointing something out…)

2. The other “problem” is the perceived railroading of “the old woman puts you to sleep and you wake up in the land of the Hunt.” I can already hear the cries of “hey, don’t we get a save” and people calling you names for the Choo-Choo effect.

Don’t get me wrong — I think the PCs gave themselves up to the possibility that this would happen the minute they walked into that hut. I think the PCs got exactly what they were asking for (just maybe not how they wanted). I think that accepting that your PC may be at the mercy of more powerful beings from time to time is part and parcel of fantasy lore. But I certainly don’t think a lot of players feel that way anymore… or if they do, I don’t know where to find them.

To be honest, even though I’m the maker of the videos, I’m not entirely sure if Randy actually says some of the things he says just to push Kevin’s buttons, or if he really is just so lovably clueless.

Only time will tell.

As for being on a roll, maybe it has something to do with having the right people in my support structure. That’s a HUGE thanks to everyone who has helped and is currently helping me make my games a reality .

Since then I’ve found that if you want your players to be better gamers you’ll have more success cultivating them rather than the -throw ‘em in the deep end- approach. Taking time to carefully explaining the logical progression of things and how seemingly minor things can blow back has been worth its weight in gold.

Instant death’s frighten me as well, especially since I’ve been running Labyrinth Lord recently. It feels pointless to set up an opening vignette for a player, see them develop a personality and curious quirks if they can die in an instant because they had the misfortune of running into a poisonous spider with a set of particularly difficult saving throw. It’s even worse when one player dies and the others emerge unscathed.

One of the things I’ve been working into my game design is the three failures rule, in that you must fail three times before an instant death effect takes place. This could be slowly succumbing to poison, having your body petrify from the feet upward, or in your example one save to notice the raised hairs before grabbing it, one to wrench yourself away, and a final one to see if you live through the convulsions and synaptic reboot. And if lethality is the name of the game you increase difficulty with each consecutive failure. Taking life or death away from a single die roll simultaneously eases the loss and increases the tension (and hope! what litle hope) with each increasing failure.

As for artscow, I looked into them but honestly don’t remember why I passed them over.

3 Doors in each room taken in pairs.
Alternating safe and dangerous.
Means:

Door 1 safe.
Door 2 dangerous.
Door 3 dangerous.
Door 4 safe.
Door 5 safe.
Door 6 dangerous.
Door 7… Nevermind.

I actually used doors 1, 4, and 7 didn’t I? And my solution says I should have chosen door 8 and be dead.

Glad I screwed that up.

Carry on.
Nothing to see here.

I was actually concerned that someone was going to die an immediate death and then, when it was discovered that I’d played “favorites” with another, there would be some hard feelings and a demand for a do-over. As it turned out, not only was everyone a good sport and willing to play along, but apparently a 33% chance of instant death isn’t a high enough percentage to challenge some of my players.

As for gaming style, typically I consider myself a very open book GM as well. If someone comes up with a good storyline I’m always willing to incorporate it given the chance. What’s more, rather than a Darwinian style challenge of GM vs. Players (which is a great way of putting it so consider it stolen BTW), those who sit at the table with me are typically more interested in a good story and a challenge they can overcome. As a result, a little hand-waving on my part is both expected and appreciated.

I’d actually like to try one myself, although my player’s of the mindset that they don’t care if things get swapped provided it’s done ‘fairly’ or it’s done to increase the fun around the table. I’m fairly open with my GM’ing; after the session (and sometimes during) if there’s a lot of talk over what could have happened or what they could have done better I’ll let them know a couple of the possibilities I had prepared for and what could have happened as a result of their actions. Well, provided they had no chance of going back and finding out themselves.

I’ve been considering giving a ‘rewind-the-clock’ once per session where if they unintentionally do something stupid they can take it back and do something else. It happens happens more often than you’d expect and I’ve given up on the Darwinian way of running games. I figure one way to eliminate the quantum ogre dilemma would be to incorporate into play. Although in you’re particular example it wouldn’t apply to the deadly doors.

Which is a fascinating result since his error combined with not realizing it essentially resulted in him believing he’d solved the riddle properly. So from his perspective, his solution was correct… when in fact it was in error.

That is, until he reads this and sees his error.