“The GM Cannot Cheat”

Since the earliest days of the tabletop roleplaying game hobby, there has been a distressingly common view that the facilitator of the game is God; an omniscient, omnipotent authority figure with the final say on all matters. They outrank both the other players and the rules, and everything is subject to their unilateral power. They exert ownership over the game’s narrative and the characters within it—even the ones which ostensibly belong to the players. This is reinforced by many of the titles TTRPGs bestow on this facilitator: Dungeon Master. Game Master. Storyteller.

I hate this.

It frustrates me to no end that the predominant play culture of these games pays lip service to concepts like collaboration, player agency, and “the GM is a player too,” while in the same breath declaring the ultimate supremacy of the game master over the rules, the story, and the other people at the table. Not only is the deification of the GM fundamentally at odds with the central conceit of roleplaying games, I’d also contend that it’s one of the most intimidating barriers to entry to new players. It serves only the egos of established game masters and their perceived right to deny the agency and contributions of other players.

The crystallization of this belief manifests as a punchy little slogan: “the GM cannot cheat.” This is not an imperative against the GM cheating, but rather a bit of Nixonian exceptionalism: “when the GM does it, that means it’s not cheating.” I hear this thrown around whenever I discuss and criticize the use of deceptive GM techniques like fudging dice or hit points without first gaining the consent of the table to do so. Its adherents assert that fundamentally, the GM is not bound by the rules of the game, because they have ultimate authority over the rules of the game. Their word is law. They are the rules. Their power is absolute, and no one may question them. They are empowered to change the rules at any time, for any reason, without the consultation or consent of any other players, and therefore, no rule can ever apply to them. I find this philosophy worrisome at best.

I don’t believe that those who ascribe to this worldview are bad people. Most are probably perfectly lovely GMs who genuinely do care about the people at their tables. It’s just the way they’ve been taught to do things, and they’ve never critically considered the implications. Most even acknowledge that it’s possible for such a GM to abuse their power, or even be “unfair,” though I’ve never been able to ascertain how they consider these behaviors distinct from “cheating.” I even think it would be acceptable (though not personally preferable) to run one’s game like this, as long as the players agreed to the arrangement. The trouble is that so many GMs seem to do this without ever letting their players know. And that is a direct denial of their agency.

If nothing the GM does can be considered cheating, nothing the players do can be considered agential. In fact, it’s arguable that in this circumstance, neither GM nor player is even playing a game at all!

Let’s Define Our Terms: Agency, Games, and Rules

To understand this, we need to understand agency as it pertains to the players of a game as “the ability to make in-game choices which meaningfully affect the imaginary world.” These consequences may or may not be desirable and predictable for the player-agent, but in general we will assume they act with the agencies they are afforded to attempt to predict and produce outcomes they desire. We’ll also use Bernard Suits’ definition of game as “the voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles.” These obstacles and the agencies provided to overcome them are the game’s rules.

Rules are the building blocks of games; rules provide for both the obstacles players must overcome, and the options available to them to do so. Let us look at one rule, using the language of Dungeons & Dragons as a lingua franca.

A Complete Circuit of a Rule

When a player character deals damage to a monster, that amount of damage is subtracted from that monster’s hit points. When a monster’s hit points reach zero, it dies.

This rule is a complete circuit. It provides an obstacle: a monster’s hit points, which keep it alive; and a means of overcoming it: reduce those hit points to zero with damage. A player aware of this rule now has a predictable agency for fighting monsters. They know an input of damage results in an output of lower monster hit points, bringing about a change in the game state whereby they may slay that monster. This rule affords players the agency to fight monsters!

Let us now imagine a player who wants to fight monsters. With the above rule in mind, they make choices within the game. When they build their character, they make choices that will help them fight monsters—perhaps even to the detriment of other abilities. When they play this character, they may spend resources to help them fight monsters—buying monster-fighting equipment with in-game wealth, spending time seeking monsters to fight, choosing adventures likely to result in the application of their prowess. And in fights with monsters, they will make choices geared toward their desire—often taking risks and making sacrifices to do so, and spending their precious turns using what options the game allows to fight monsters. This player exercises every agency made available to them in the game concerning the part of the monster-slaying rule’s equation they can control: damage. They can’t control the monster’s hit points; that’s the game master’s purview. But they can control, to some degree, how hard they hit it. Finally they arrive at the critical moment, striking a monster and rolling all the dice they’ve accumulated to damage it, and, hopefully, slay it.

Now let us imagine a GM who believes they cannot cheat. This GM does not believe themselves bound by the monster-slaying rule as the player is. To the player, the rules are a contract; to this GM, they are mere suggestions. This GM controls the hit point side of the equation, and is aware of how much damage is required to slay the monster. The player informs this GM of the damage they are dealing, and it is exactly the amount required. By the rules of the game, the monster is dead. However, the GM does not acknowledge the rules, and instead declines to reduce the monster’s hit points at all. This is, to them, not cheating, and they believe themselves well within their rights to ignore this player’s action. The player’s agency has been completely negated, even if they aren’t aware of it.

In this moment, every choice the player has made up to this point to enact this outcome, from character creation, to within the imaginary world, to those made on their turn in the fight with the monster, has been denied. Their choices have been rendered meaningless, and their action upon the world has no effect or consequence. In fact, if they had instead done nothing on their turn, the game state would be exactly the same. The GM makes it such that all they’ve accomplished is waste their turn. 

If the GM is being deceptive, and acting as if they’ve performed the operation that the rules of the game demand, the player may at this point believe their damage did something, but they’ve been handed a toy steering wheel and told they’re driving the car. What they’re actually doing is asking the GM, “can I kill the monster?” And the monster won’t die until the GM decides, “yes.” The GM has stealthily replaced the rule that afforded the player agency with that of “Mother May I?”

This player is no longer actually playing a game. If they were playing a video game, it would be as if their controller had been unplugged. Their in-game avatar may appear to be active, and they may continue to simulate play, inputting commands and watching the events of the game unfold, but their choices and actions are fundamentally disconnected from the actual operations of the game. The GM certainly may have added or substituted unnecessary obstacles, but they are not the ones the player volunteered to overcome. 

A young player whose brothers are improving his experience by curating his level of agency.

You Can’t Un-Open This Can of Worms

I have no doubt at this point that many who hold the belief that the GM cannot cheat remain unconvinced; after all, this is only one scenario regarding one rule for one specific instance. I would even guess that most of them agree that this hypothetical GM has made an unfair or at least disagreeable ruling. But, crucially, if they believe that this behavior is not a violation of any rules, regardless if they think it’s good or bad, their players still don’t have agency even when the GM chooses not to ignore the rules.

Because they believe it is always their choice whether to apply the rules or not, even in instances where they do adhere to the rules, anything the players do can only occur because this GM allows it. If the option to unilaterally ignore the rules is always a fair and valid choice, the players can never affect the world in any way the GM does not permit. 

When players win, it’s because the GM let them win, or chose not to make them lose, or made them win even if, by the rules, they should have lost. When they lose, it’s because the GM decided they should lose, or chose not to let them win, or made them lose, even if, by the rules, they should have won. Even if the GM only abuses their power sparingly, the fact that they can do it at any time taints the entire experience. It casts doubt upon every procedure. The GM has capriciously interposed themselves into the operations of the game so they can manually approve or deny everything that occurs.

The GM has, with this philosophy, disconnected every rule from its output. They’ve rerouted every agency afforded to the players by the rules away from the obstacles they affect and instead through the arbitrary obstacle of the GM’s whims. They have insinuated themselves as an opaque black box in the circuitry of the game’s mechanics. Perhaps they might consider the rule when delivering an output, but they never feel obligated to. They can’t cheat, after all; the rules aren’t the rules, they, the GM, are the rules.

The illustrious and mysterious stylings of the illusionist GM

As a result, players, who are still bound by the rules in this skewed arrangement, cannot reasonably have any idea how their mechanical choices will actually affect the game, because the GM will always simply do whatever they want. Their agencies to produce desirable and predictable outcomes have been entirely replaced by a single person’s judgment, which may only occasionally resemble the rules they remain restricted by. Their choices cannot be meaningful in and of themselves; only subject to the GM’s discretion. They cannot affect the world directly; they may only ask the GM’s permission to do it for them. 

In short, the player is bound by the rules, but receives no agency from them. The GM is not bound by the rules and claims unlimited agency, but burdens themselves with becoming the source of all “fun,” through maintaining a charade of a consistent, meaningful, fair, and aesthetic experience of play. It evokes Wilhoit’s Law of conservatism, albeit with much lower stakes.

It’s Not All Their Fault (But Also How to Fix It)

I understand why GMs do this. The predominant play culture surrounding the world’s largest roleplaying game generates certain expectations. It expects GMs to write a story in advance and manipulate the rules of the game to fit it. It expects them to fix the broken and unengaging mechanics of an often poorly designed system on the fly, without revealing that they do so to the other players. It expects that play is a means to produce a product; a television pilot, a curated experience, an actual play podcast, and not an end unto itself. It expects that the entire burden of ensuring an enjoyable game is the GM’s responsibility, and treats the players as passive consumers. It expects this so thoroughly that it literally includes the prerogative to ignore the rules in its own rulebook (thereby ruining this discussion for all time when people cite it like the Bible). But it doesn’t have to be this way.

One easy solution is to discuss it with your table and gain their consent. While I don’t believe GMs are exempt from the rules, I do believe they and their tables are absolutely empowered to create and change rules, so long as all players agree to them. When players actually understand what the GM may do to alter the game, it makes many of the issues with this philosophy go away, even if I personally wouldn’t choose it.

My solution feels even simpler: play the game in front of you, with the people at your table. Allow the things that happen to become the narrative, and discover a story through play. Rather than concerning oneself with what is “supposed to” happen, or what was intended, focus instead on what is happening, and what it could mean. Cultivate a table culture in which players are empowered to use their agency to the fullest. React honestly and naturally to show their impact on the imaginary world. Work together and play together, by the same rules, and marvel at the creativity that blooms under those restrictions. Free yourself from the expectation that the GM is the storyteller, the owner, or the “god” of your game. Be generous with information. Honor the other players’ choices and contributions. Collaborate.

I have often heard the phrase “the GM is a player too” to justify the negation of players’ choices, as if the GM’s enjoyment of play relies on maintaining unquestionable authority over the events of the game and the people at the table. Quite the opposite; treating the GM as a player requires them to acknowledge that they, too, are bound by rules. They, too, have agencies given them by the game, which are fully their toys to play with! Most games load the GM with so much agency that it stuns me when they act as if it somehow isn’t enough!

I think if we stopped treating the GM like a god, and truly started treating them like another player, our hobby would flourish. Not only would the role look less intimidating and easier to take up without the weight of deific expectation, we might also shift the play culture to be more collaborative. Encouraging players to seize their agency, become active participants, and make contributions enhances their experience while simultaneously reducing the workload of the GM, who is no longer responsible for writing and shuttling them through a fully realized campaign to passively consume. They need not take responsibility for being an endless fountain of creative ideas, challenges and fun if they invite and accept the contributions and constraints of the game everyone agreed to play!

We might realize our medium of tabletop roleplaying games is capable of doing more than emulating stories from other media; with it we can explore the uncharted territory of collaborative, real-time, experiential play. With the alchemical combination of rules, choices, and a table full of active imaginations, we can journey to the realm of the unscripted, the undiscovered country of immanence that storytellers cannot even dream of.