Do Split the Party

Most RPGs can handle "splitting the party" decently well.  The problem with splitting the party is that players get bored when they're not actually playing the game.

It's one thing to wait your turn in combat, where you are part of the action -- especially if the GM is highlighting the stakes and context of the situation when it's not your turn (see the twitter thread below).  It's another thing to wait a long time while the other PCs are off scouting or investigating or negotiating.

RPG Combat Gamerunning Thread

Today let's talk about a technique I learned to use to make combat more exciting.
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— Jon Lemich (@RunAGame) September 13, 2018

You can tell GMs to cut frequently.  You can tell GMs what to avoid, how to try to match cut speed to pace, etc.  But what I've discovered in the last three years is that as a GM, you need to learn how to recognize triggers that cue you to cut.

If you're not reminded to cut back to the other players, you might not realize you've gone on too long.  You might not realize you're boring them.

So here are some triggers to remind you to cut.  If you internalize these eight scene cut-away triggers, you'll get better at running split-party scenes without boring your players to death.

Failing a Skill Check:  When a PC fails a skill check, cut!  Cut to the other PCs immediately.  This has a lot of great benefits!  First of all, depending on your system, failed checks will happen decently often -- especially when the party is split.  In D&D, it might happen every three or four rolls.  That's about the same for PbtA games.  Second, it gives you time to think about the move you want to make. With extra time, you can think of a really good complication that really adds to the tension. Third, the player who failed the check will be waiting with bated breath to hear how bad things went with that roll.

A Player Needs OOC Time: This one is obvious - if you're running for a split party, and a player needs time, it's time to cut.  Players might need time for lots of reasons:  OOC things like getting another piece of pizza, using the restroom, taking a call, fixing a tech issue (playing online), or having a sneezing fit.  Players usually won't take a break in a tense moment, so if they signal a need to break, it's at a lull, and a good time to cut.

A Player Needs Time to Think:  Players might also need time to think of a plan, think of what to say, think of how their character would react, make a tough choice, or figure out a character ability.  If you're going to force them to make a decision under pressure, don't cut away.  Apply that pressure.  Talk them through it.

Aside: When you force a player to make a decision in a split second, you're testing the player, not the character.  For some styles of play, this is great.  Actor stance play, such as LARPs, horror games, or high character immersion play can be enhanced by forcing players to make split second decisions in character.  You're encouraging bleed (see here, here, and here).  For other styles of play, this is bad.  Author and director stance play should test the character, not the player.  You might spend ten minutes thinking about how your character would handle a split-second high-stakes decision. In those styles of play, it's often fun to decide that your character made a bad decision. 

There's a Rules Question:  If the table runs into a rules question, cut.  The players can look up the rule while you run the other scene.  This one should be obvious. Just make sure to associate it with a cut-away trigger in your mind.

Cliffhanger Moment: When something surprising happens, cut away after you see the players' reaction.  Don't drop the surprise and cut immediately.  Why?  Because when you get the players' reaction then cut, you get five or ten extra minutes to think about how to play to it!  If you surprise them and cut away immediately, you don't get their reaction until after you cut back.  And that means you have only seconds to plan how to play to their reaction.  Put another way:  The surprise is big.  The players' reaction to the surprise is even bigger.  Your response to their reaction is the third most important thing that happens at a plot twist, and giving yourself extra time to plan that is gold.

Example:
GM: "Jasen, you've put down the third vampire spawn.  You're wounded, exhausted, but victorious.  You walk out of the alley, back into the crowd.  Nobody noticed the battle.  Standing there, staring at you is the vampire who commanded the spawn to attack.  She pulls her hood back, and it's none other than Lucia, your former mentor." 
Jasen's Player:  "Holy crap!  I thought she died in the crusade!  I don't care about the crowd. I don't care that I'm wounded.  I charge.  Do I roll initiative or what?" 
GM: "Hold that thought.  Let's cut away."

A Conversation Milestone: Conversations take longer than you think.  When you're GMing a conversation, you take on the NPC's persona, and start thinking about what the NPC wants, what they're afraid of, what they know, what they're watching for, etc.  Often, that means you stop focusing on a lot of the logistics of gamerunning.  You lose track of time, lose track of players who aren't in the conversation, etc.  So teach yourself to cut away when the conversation reaches a milestone.  That is, cut away when something new comes up; a decision is announced; the mood changes; or parties enter or leave the conversation.  Just teach yourself to watch for conversation milestones, as shorthand for that.

Plan B Doesn't Work:  The PC tries one approach.  They don't get the result they wanted.  The PC tries another approach.  They still don't get what they wanted.  It's OK to run a scene where a PC fumbles around a little.  The dice sometimes force that on us.  Players also sometimes don't know exactly what they're after - they go into a scene and just push buttons (literally or metaphorically) until something happens.  That's fine, sometimes.  But while it can be frustrating to the PC who's flailing, it's extremely frustrating to watch.  So teach yourself to cut away when the player's second approach doesn't go anywhere.  This has two benefits:  The other players don't have to sit through more than two false starts in a row, and the active player gets a few minutes to think up a better strategy.

A Clue is Revealed:  When you reveal a clue that's a "piece of the puzzle," cut away.  Unlike a cliffhanger, you don't need to see the player's reaction to a clue.  Most clues are just useful information, not major changes to the conflict.  (If the clue is a cliffhanger, see above.)  Cutting away right after dropping a clue will save you a ton of table time.  First of all, the players who just got the clue need a few minutes to process it.  They have to think about how it fits into their investigation, what it means, and what follow-up questions they need to ask.  When you reveal a clue, the players often ask a lot of confirmation questions -- stuff they already know, but just want to be sure about.  If you give them a few minutes, when you cut back, they'll have cut that down to only the most important follow-up questions.

Handy Infographic Version

Here's a handy infographic you can share if you're so inclined.

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Other Run a Game articles on splitting the party


I've written before about the benefits of splitting the party, which is still pretty good, though the game I used for the example is now an edition out of date!

I also did an article on cutting between scenes before, but I think my skills have evolved since, and I've also figured out how to communicate what I've learned in the last three years, since the last time I wrote on this topic.  For instance, in the older article, I recommend 15 minutes between cuts.  Now I'd say 10 minutes is pushing it, and you should aim to cut every 5 minutes, if you can.

Update:  Use these skills even when you're NOT splitting the party!

See this twitter thread about it. (Click through to see the full thread from here.)

Now the bonus you've all been waiting for (all six of you who read this far!)

Use these cues when you're running whole-group scenes, too!

"But use them for what, Jon? Use them for WHAT?"

— Jon Lemich (@RunAGame) September 25, 2018

Encounter Stakes

Too many GMs hammer the party with encounter after encounter of "kill or be killed" life-or-death fights to survive.  There are several reasons why this is a problem.

First, it's toothless:  Either you kill a PC every other session, or else your "kill or be killed" encounters are mostly harmless.  Even if you kill a PC every other session, the death risk in any given encounter is probably one in five or one in ten.  Not insignificant, sure, but hardly dire.

Second, it's tiresome:  If every hostile creature you meet turns out to want to kill you or die trying, it gets dull.  More, "kill or be killed" encounters tend to drag.  After about 2 or 3 rounds, it's clear that the PCs have won, and the monsters are just trying to make their deaths as costly as possible.  Once every now and then, that's interesting.  Every time?  Gets boring.

Third, it leads to murder hobos:  If every encounter eventually ends in grim slaughter, whenever a conflict arises, you're going to go straight to grim slaughter as a solution.  The minute anyone cracks wise or threatens your PCs, they're going to go straight for the most efficient kill.

The solution is, luckily, not all that hard.  Just vary the stakes of the encounter.  Here's a big list of encounter stakes that are not "kill or be killed."

Stakes Progression

I've divided these examples into four tiers.  Start with low stakes.  As your adventure progresses, keep raising the stakes.

A lot of stakes come with built in progression:  If the PCs are framed (level 1), they might be at risk for capture (level 4), if the frame-up is successful.  A frame-up is only level 1 because it doesn't lead to the PCs' capture, it leads to a risk they might be captured, if they can't clear their name.

For the lower tier stakes to qualify for their lower level, the PCs have to have a chance to avoid the risk posed by the follow-on stakes:  If the PCs are delayed (level 2), they must still have a chance to prevent their rival from snatching the thing they wanted to get (level 3).  If the delay leads to the snatch without any chance the PCs could have stopped it, then the delay was really a complicated snatch, not a delay.

Level 1 Stakes: Social or Emotional

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.  

First level stakes don't cost the PCs much except their reputation or their good mood.  Getting humiliated or spooked or tricked might ruin your day, or let an enemy get away with crimes or escape capture, but they won't cost you anything and they won't hurt.

• Humiliate:  The foes win if the PCs feel humiliated
• Embarrass:  The foes win if the PCs do something embarrassing
• Reputation: The foes win if the PCs' reputation suffers
• Enrage: The foes win if the PCs get mad at them
• Censure: The foes win if the PCs suffer a superior's disapproval
• Framed: The foes win if the PCs are suspected of a crime they did not commit
• Count Coup:  Each foe wins if they touch the PCs without getting hurt
• Scare: The foes win if the PCs flinch (take a defensive or restorative action)
• Spook: The foes win if the PCs regroup, retreat, or begin acting more cautiously
• Threaten: The foes win if they take the foes and their faction more seriously
• Bluff:  The foes win if the PCs believe the bluff
• Reprisal:  The foes win if the PCs are worried of additional reprisals

Level 2 Stakes: Material or Tactical

Stand and deliver!

If the stakes threaten to cost the PCs resources, they rise to the second level.  Second level stakes can also threaten the PCs' tactical position, raising the stakes they might encounter in the future.

• Steal:  The foes win if they take stuff from the PCs by stealth, threats, or force
• Break: The foes win if they break or spoil the PCs' stuff
• Deplete:  The foes win if they get the PCs to use up limited resources
• Foist:  The foes win if they make the PCs take on stuff they don't want to carry
• Block:  The foes win if the PCs don't take the guarded path
• Oust: The foes win if they force the PCs to leave an area
• Divert:  The foes win if they force the PCs to take the selected path 
• Feint:  The foes win if the PCs react to the feint
• Distract:  The foes win if they get the PCs to engage with them for long enough
• Delay:  The foes win if the PCs take a few rounds, a minute, an hour, or a day longer
• Alarm: The foes win if they get warning to their allies
• Pay: The foes win if they make the PCs pay more than they had to through trickery
• Sell:  The foes win if the PCs buy what they're selling
• Beg:  The foes win if the PCs give them charity
• Extort: The foes win if the PCs pay them a bribe or blackmail money
• Split the Party: The foes win if the PCs become separated

Level 3 Stakes: Goals and Bonds

There are fates worse than death...

These are goals or people or places or things that might mean more to the PCs than their very lives.  Would you die to protect your community?  Your family?  Would you risk your life to pull strangers from a burning building?  These are character defining questions, and level 3 stakes help us get to them in ways that level 4 stakes do not.

• In Decline:  The foes want to harm or take over an organization the PCs care about
• Lost Friend: The foes want to harm, beguile, or alienate a person the PCs care about
• Special: The foes win if they harm or take a thing the PCs care about
• Noise: The foes win if the folks that matter don't know who to believe
• Homewrecker: The foes win if they harm, control, or bar entry to a place the PCs care about
• Escape:  The foes win if they escape justice that the PCs want to mete out
• Competition: The foes win if they beat the PCs to a critical prize in a fair competition (even if they cheated)
• Rival: The foes win if they claim an opportunity that a person the PCs care about wanted
• Snatch: The foes win if they claim an item the PCs wanted to get
• Outbid: The foes win if they beat the PCs in a bidding war for an opportunity 
• Demoted: The foes win if the PCs lose formal status
• Divide:  The foes win if the PCs become unjustly suspicious of their ally
• Lost: The foes win if the PCs get lost

Level 4 Stakes: Personal and Physical

Take no prisoners!

Stakes that are direct attacks on the PCs' bodies are the highest of all, but because they're so direct, they're often very blunt, unrevealing situations.  Of course you're going to fight to defend yourself.  Of course you care about being locked in a dungeon.  On the other hand, they're tense, exciting moments that can feel terrifying or exhilarating -- usually both!

• Hurt: The foes win if they harm one of the PCs in particular
• Maim: the foes win if they cause a specific injury to one of the PCs in particular
• Assassinate: The foes win if they kill one of the PCs in particular
• Guerrilla: The foes will try to kill the PCs, but will retreat to avoid any casualties
• Surrender: The foes win if the PCs surrender
• Capture: The foes win if they capture or arrest one or all of them
• Consume:  The foes win if they successfully eat part of all of one of the PCs
• Infect: The foes win if they cause one or more PCs to contract a disease
• Envenom: The foes win if they poison one or more of the PCs

More About Encounter Stakes

Foreshadowed Stakes vs. Surprise Stakes

Foreshadowed stakes are stakes the PCs know about well in advance.  For instance, they might know that Armlor the Brewer is looking for them to chew them out.  That tells them that there's someone wandering around town looking to cause them some reputation or emotional harm (Level 1 stakes, emotional or status).  They know ahead of time, so they're anticipating it.  In effect, you've already levied the stakes at them.  The stakes are real, even if they haven't met Armlor yet.

Foreshadowed stakes are the best because the players experience them for a longer period of time, and their characters can start engaging with them well before the encounter ("well if Armlor comes by here, you can tell him we'll meet him at sunset outside our inn, if he's got the guts").

Surprise stakes are fun because there's an element of the unexpected. Surprise stakes can be...

• New stakes out of nowhere:  On the way to the inn, the PCs are attacked by robbers (Level 2 stakes, extort)
• Significantly changed stakes: Arriving at sunset to discover that Armlor is there helping the owners try to put out a raging fire in the inn (Level 2 stakes, break their stuff) or arriving to find Armlor's fresh, bleeding corpse (Level 1 stakes, framed)
• Surprisingly increased stakes -- Armlor shows up at the tavern with a cadre of Duke's soldiers to arrest them (Level 4 stakes, capture)

Surprise stakes are the best because everyone loves a twist.  But you can't make every encounter a twist.  Try to use a twist every couple of scenes, though!


Play to Find Out

To make stakes work, think of them this way:  You're playing out this encounter to see if the foes will win their stakes.  Therefore, all the stakes examples, below, are phrased as "the foes win if..." to remind you that these NPCs are done when they achieve their stakes.


Level of Stakes vs. Probability of Loss (aka Challenge)

Challenge matters.  Consider how likely it is that the PCs lose in the contest for the stakes.  For instance, low stakes (humiliation) with high probability of loss (the PCs will almost certainly be humiliated) can be very powerful.  High stakes (assassinate) with low probability of loss (the PCs can easily defeat the assassin) can be very weak.

Higher challenge raises the stakes, but it almost never raises the stakes up a whole level.  Humiliation can be really painful, but losing a fortune, losing a friend, or losing an arm is a lot more painful.


PC Stakes

Your players are going to set their own stakes, based on what's going on in the fiction.  If an NPC gets in their face with threats and bluster, they PCs might decide to shut the NPC down emotionally or to beat them up, or even to kill them.

You don't get to control the PCs and what they decide to do.  Their stakes are their business.  Your job is to control the NPCs.  The PCs' actions might trigger new stakes, though.  If they kill an NPC who's yelling in their faces, they might be wanted for murder.  The stakes go from humiliation (level 1) to capture (level 4) as the town militia is called up to hunt them down for trial.


What do the Foes do when they Win?

Most of these stakes end long before one side or the other is dead.  You, the GM, get to decide if the NPCs have won their stakes.  Once they've won their stakes, they should act naturally.  Typically, they'll just leave.

Does this mean you're going to re-use the encounter later?  You bet you will!

Isn't that boring?  Heck, no!  Players love to see NPCs they've met before.

Will encounters combine?  That is, if the guard goblins succeed at raising an alarm and run away, will they join with other goblins and make a really Deadly encounter later?  No.  I mean, you could do that, but you're creating a strong incentive for your players to kill everything they meet, in case they have to fight it later.  There is an enormous conceptual difference between "get a chance for revenge when you meet the same NPCs again" and "any NPC you don't kill might join with another encounter and make your life harder."

Printable Infographic Version

Click here to download this at a readable size

Here's a 8.5x11" printable list of these stakes, to put in your adventure prep inspiration kit.

How to Run an RPG Campaign in 5 Easy Steps

If you want to run an RPG campaign, you ought to do it right.  Here's a simple five step process to run a game that your players will never forget.

Five Steps to a Memorable RPG Campaign

Step 1: The Pitch
Pitch a campaign idea with enough detail that everyone understands the vision (genre, tone, themes, setting, conflicts, main action). This is a conversation, not a dictum - it's their game, too. Make sure everyone is on the same page, you included. (Here's a really old article from this site on making a campaign pitch.)

Step 2: Character Creation
Accept characters that fit the table's shared vision (see #1), and can work together.  (It's probably best if they already know each other).  Make sure all the characters have things they're intensely passionate about - people, places, things, goals, groups - that fit the campaign vision.  Many RPGs have passions baked into character creation. GUMSHOE games ask you to list your sources of stability. 5th edition D&D asks you to describe your Ideal and a personal Bond, etc.  Work within this structure where you can, but make sure to push players to give you real good passions - not cop outs.

Step 3: World Building
Sketch the world roughly with lots of blanks. In it, create major antagonists that have goals that brutally conflict with the PCs' passions (see #2). Give your antagonists stuff: People (henchmen, goons), places (dungeons, cities, lairs, etc.), things (artifacts, rituals), groups (titles, influence, cults, factions), and knowledge (of the PCs, of the future, of the past, of how things work).

Step 4: Starting Setting
Fill in the space close to the PCs in much more detail. This is your "starting village" -- your Tatooine or Emond's Field. Even though I said "much more detail," you should still leave some blanks to fill in as you go. As you fill in, fill it with the stuff the PCs care about (see #2) and the antagonists' stuff (see #3) - especially at least one henchman.

Step 5: Inciting Event
Decide what the local henchmen are up to that will damage the nearby stuff the PCs care about (see #4) and what happens to tip the PCs off to what's going on in time to do something about it (inciting event). Drop the inciting event, then just respond to their actions.

If you followed these steps, the PCs should care intensely about what's going on, because what's going on directly conflicts with their passions. There's no need for railroad tracks - the game is more of a fox hunt than a railroad. The PCs will drive the story, because they told you what they cared about and you made them a game about it.

As they follow leads from the local henchmen to the other stuff your main antagonists have, you just introduce them to more and more henchmen and more and more locations and villain goals (that continue being toxic to the PCs' passions).  The villain goals might shift, too, and get even more personal.  Where "corrupt the church of Ilmater" was their goal before, "Torment [the PC] Jakiri the Cleric of Ilmater by kidnapping the ones he loves" is even more personal.

Not all RPGs work the same way, though.  Here are some important caveats...

RPGs with Structured Adventures 
Many RPGs have internal structures that get in the way of this basic process.  These are RPGs where the game creates a conflict that the game designer or GM pushes on the PCs, rather than one the PCs investigate on their own initiative.  There's nothing wrong with that -- these are fun games. But because the structure is somewhat set ahead of time, we have to add another step.

For instance, in Monster of the Week, you're creating one-off threats for most sessions.  (It's literally in the title.)  In Night's Black Agents, the PCs are burned spies uncovering a conspiracy of vampires.  In Shadowrun, you're often doing black ops jobs for corporations through cutouts called Mr. Johnsons, rather than deciding what passions to pursue, yourselves. These conflicts come baked into their respective games. 

Here's how you deal with that:

First, be honest with your players in step #1.  Explain that they'll be playing Shadowrun (or whatever), and the structure of the game involves getting hired for covert black ops corporate espionage and sabotage jobs (or whatever). 

After that, make sure that you still get a lot of passions in step #2.  Step #3 and #4 are the same. 

Next, step #5 is a little different.  In step #5, you follow the game's baked in structure for an adventure.  You have a werewolf attack the suburban high school; have Mr. Johnson hire the team to steal a briefcase from some corporate scientist; or have the agents investigate a spy that was murdered outside a Bucharest blood bank. Whatever.  You do the thing that the game wants you to do.  But make sure the bad guys know who hurt them.  That's crucial for step #6.

Step 6 (for Structured Adventure RPGs): Now it's Personal!
The first time the PCs win a victory against the antagonists, the antagonists strike back.  They take their revenge on the PCs' passions.  The werewolf moot burns down the Chosen's family's home.  The corp that lost their briefcase sends security goons to "question" the Street Samurai's favorite bartender (he didn't talk, but it cost him three teeth and an eye). The vampires frame the agents for the murder of one of their own beloved contacts.

As you're running the game, continue to use the PCs' passions as stakes whenever you can.  Offer them opportunities to achieve or protect or improve things they care about, and set threats against them.  Make everything as personal as you can.


Character Death and New PCs
If a PC dies in your campaign, their passions die with them.  When the player makes a new character, they come in with all new passions.  How should you handle that?

First of all, reserve character death for only the most extreme circumstances. Because you know the PCs all have strong passions, there are literally fates worse than death in your game.  Use those before you get to character death. 

But even if nobody dies, there are still times new characters appear in your campaigns.  What if someone new joins the group halfway in? 

When you get a new PC, treat it like they're playing a module -- see below.  Tell them all the conflicts going on already and ask them to make a character that feels passionately about one or more of the things at stake in the existing conflicts.  The new PC can have other passions as well, of course.  Work up a new villain plan and new villain stuff (henchmen, prophecies, etc.) that targets those.


An Additional Note on Modules
When you're running a campaign from a module, step #1 is very important.  You need to "all but spoil" a lot of the campaign for your players, so that they can make characters that care about things in it. 

If you're running Curse of Strahd, you need to read the whole thing and help the players make characters that care about the themes and goals they'll eventually have in there.  One should be a vampire hunter.  One should have a sister or wife who looks like the twin to Ireena.  Another should be a priest of Lathander, the Morninglord (in a setting where the sun never shines).  And so forth.

(Here's another really old article from this site on a technique for sowing plot hooks among the PCs.)

D&D Moves

DM:  “The mine ends in a room constructed of chiseled stone blocks, thirty feet square, with a floor of stone slabs.  There’s a 25 foot wall around the chamber, but it doesn’t go all the way to the ceiling of the cavern.  What do you do?”PC:  “Can I climb over the wall?”DM:  “Sure, make a DC 15 Athletics check.”PC:  “Oops.  I got a 12.”

This is the worst part of D&D.  If all you’ve ever played was D&D, you might not even realize it.  Here’s the relevant section from the official rules:  “...[a failure] means the character or monster makes no progress toward the objective or makes progress combined with a setback determined by the DM.”  

That’s not very good guidance for DMs.  There are just two options given to DMs.  One of them is good (progress combined with a setback), and the other is terrible (makes no progress).  Not progressing is boring.  The player will just try again, effectively wasting table time.  There needs to be more meat to the failure guidelines.  That’s what this article gives you.

Inspiration from Other Games

Apocalypse World and the other Powered By the Apocalypse games (such as Dungeon World) have a unique mechanic that really should not be unique.  They force the GM to apply stakes to every outcome of every single die roll.  Once I tried Dungeon World, I never went back.  I apply stakes to every outcome of every single die roll now, and it's improved my GM game considerably.

(If you use the link below to get a copy of Dungeon World, you'll give me like twenty cents, so that's neat, I guess?)

The way the Powered By the Apocalypse games do it is simple:  The GM has a list of Moves.  When the players look to the GM to see what happens or when they're sitting around doing nothing exciting, or when they fail a roll, the GM uses a Move.  The moves are the "failure" stakes for their rolls.  Every player move has success stakes, and the failure stakes are just that the GM will make a move, though sometimes they describe a bad outcome and also note that the GM will make a move.  

It's simple in concept, but taxing on your creativity to frame every roll so that there are stakes for every outcome. It requires frequent improvisation, even within published modules.  The Powered by the Apocalypse games help GMs out with that by giving them a list of moves; so every time the GM has to improvise, they can just scan the list and choose the one that seems most interesting at the time.  The list of moves helps you stay creative, even when you don't know what you should do. It's not limiting -- just about everything a GM would want to insert into play is covered by a Move. It just provides inspiration and advice.

The list of moves is a list of things that make the situation the characters are in more exciting.  Even when a move is subtle or off-screen, it should raise the tension.  Most of the moves add complications, conflicts, or cause problems.

So I said to myself, why not do that for D&D?

Below is a Moves "system" for Dungeons & Dragons DMs called DM Moves.  You make a DM move when a player character fails a roll or looks to you to see what happens.  The move should always follow a PC's actions, but it doesn't have to be something that happens to the PC directly.  There are examples under all the DM Moves, below, that show how the DM Moves work.

Like most of my writing about how to improve your D&D game, these DM Moves don’t modify any existing rules.  They just guide DMs toward what works best to engage players and generate fun.

When to Make a DM Move

When a character fails a check

PC: "I want to climb over this wall to see what's on the other side."  DM: "OK, make an Athletics check, DC 15."  PC: "I got a 7."  Make a DM Move.

When a the characters get new information

PC: "I want to look for information about the Red Wizards of Thay in the library."  DM: "Make a History check, DC 15." PC: "I got a 19."  Give the player the information they earned and make a DM Move.

When the players look to the DM to see what happens

PC: "I want to shoot my Fire Bolt cantrip at the cask of oil, hoping to cause an explosion."  Make a DM Move.

Unlike a Powered by the Apocalypse game such as Dungeon World, you won't need to use DM Moves in combat very often.  D&D Combat is a tactical game in and of itself.  It uses its own, separate, system.  Attack rolls, spells, class abilities, and saving throws have their own “within the combat system” stakes built in for failed rolls.  However, sometimes in combat, the players get new information or do something creative and look to the DM to see what happens.  Make a DM move then.

Failed Checks aren't Failed Actions

In the Powered by the Apocalypse games, failing a roll doesn't necessarily mean the player fails to do their intended action.  Remember, even the D&D rules allow two different possibilities:  The character “makes no progress toward the objective” or the character “makes progress combined with a setback determined by the GM.”  That can mean...

There's a Problem

The character fails to do their intended action because of the problem described by the DM Move you made.  A character doesn’t just fail to progress because of the tumbling of a mystic icosahedron in alternate dimension.  They fail because of a problem in the shared imagined space of the game world.   Because of the DM Move, the character has to try some other approach; or they have to deal with the complication the DM Move introduced before they can try again.  

Important note:  If you’re using an ability check to get past an obstacle preventing the PCs from getting to more interesting parts of the adventure, use “Another Door Opens” or “Success with Consequences” instead.

Another Door Opens

The character fails to do their intended action, but your DM Move gives them an opportunity to achieve their goal another way.  Sometimes it's an opportunity that draws them into doing something more exciting, dangerous, interesting, or dramatic.  Sometimes the opportunity has a cost.  Sometimes it just helps develop the fiction, explore more of the setting, or draw the characters deeper into the adventure.  

You might wonder why giving a PC a new opportunity is a good sanction for a failed check, rather than the reward for a successful one.  Consider it from the player’s perspective:  They wanted their character to do something, but the dice say they can’t.  Instead, if they want to achieve their goal, they have no choice but to do it a different way - a way they wouldn’t have chosen.  To the player, offering them an opportunity will feel like a sanction.

Success with Consequences

In the rules, this is called “progress combined with a setback.”  In RPG theory circles, it is called “fail forward.”  On Run a Game (and in the Fate RPG), it is called “success with consequences.”  The character succeeds at their intended action, but triggers the problem caused by the DM Move you chose.  If you used a "hard" move (something immediate and irrevocable), the consequence happens right now, and the players have to deal with it.  If you used a "soft" move (something distant, off-screen, or vague), it sets up more danger down the road and raises the tension level, but doesn't make an immediate demand on the characters.

Never Use “No Progress”

When there’s no reason not to repeat the attempt, and the attempt doesn’t cost anything,, don’t use a “makes no progress toward the objective” outcome.  That’s boring.  The player will just keep rolling until they succeed.  The only time a PC should be allowed to try again on a failed check is if every failed check comes with a cost or consequence.  Even that can turn an exciting scene into a frustrating one, so use it sparingly.

The DM Moves

Here are the D&D DM Moves.  Remember, when a player fails an ability check, gets information, or looks to the DM for the results, you should make a DM Move.  Moves that do not directly harm the characters or change the conflict are called "soft moves."  Moves that harm the characters or change the conflict are "hard moves."  (Click the list to download a printable PDF page of the moves to bring to the table.)

1. Have the dungeon interfere
2. Leverage an opportunity or drawback of someone's class, race, or equipment
3. Highlight a conflict using their Alignment, Trait, Ideal, Bond, or Flaw
4. Take away their stuff
5. Make something deal damage 
6. Name the price, and ask
7. Put someone in a spot
8. Split the party
9. Reveal an unwelcome truth or signal an approaching threat
10. Increase the time pressure

How to Use the Moves

1. Have the dungeon interfere

This is an "A Problem Arose" move, but it can also be a "Success with Consequences" move.  The dungeon is full of dangers including monsters, traps, curses, shifting walls, spells, crumbling architecture, water, gas, fire, and so much more.  Failing to do something is not just "no progress" -- something has to stop the adventurer from trying again.  And in this case, what stops them is one of the dungeon's many hazards.  Even outside a dungeon, you can think of a cool “fantasy hazard” to interfere.  This is the best move for pushing the fantasy exploration elements of D&D.

Example:  With difficulty, you climb over the wall... and hear the sound of crossbows firing rapidly!  Arrows are flying toward you.  What do you do?

2. Leverage an opportunity or drawback of someone's class, race, or equipment

Failing to do something can come along with an opportunity.  In this case, use an opportunity that fits the class' abilities.  The idea is to show off a character's class.  It doesn't have to be the character who failed the roll.  You can also have a problem arise that fits a class, race, or equipment in the party.  The Baron can’t be persuaded because you brought a stinking dwarf.  This is the best move for shifting the spotlight and showing off a character’s outward traits.

Example:  There are no handholds where you can reach, but if you could stand on a magical Floating Disc, you could reach the handholds higher up the wall..

Example:  You can't get over the wall because your armor is too heavy.  If you take it off, you can heave it over, then climb over yourself, unarmored.  What do you do?

3. Highlight a conflict using their Alignment, Trait, Ideal, Bond, or Flaw

The move represents an opportunity that opens up, but it creates a conflict with one or more characters' alignments, personality traits, ideals, bonds, or flaws.  The conflict can be an opportunity or a setback.  An opportunity can start a discussion between characters who have different perspectives.  For instance, the opportunity to kill a slumbering orc is expedient for a Chaotic character and dishonorable for a Lawful one.  The trait you're highlighting doesn't have to reside in the character who failed the check.  This is the best move for shifting the spotlight and showing off a character’s internal motives and drives.

Example:  You just can't get up the wall.  Only Sir Marley is strong enough to get over the wall.  Remember Marley, your Flaw is "I secretly believe that everyone is beneath me."  What do you do?

4. Take away their stuff

“...the Lord will come like a thief...” (2 Peter 3:10).  This move is different from "name a price and ask" (below), because in this case, you don’t ask.  The player doesn't have a choice.  Make sure the loss of the item is more than a minor inconvenience.  The character should be worried about the loss.  However, the loss doesn’t have to be permanent - it just has to be interesting, exciting, or push the PCs toward some danger.  Because magic items are very rare treasures in 5th edition D&D, don't just destroy them.  You can take them away without taking them away forever.  This is the best move for highlighting the value of equipment and emphasizing the resource management aspects of D&D.  It can also draw the PCs into greater danger, chasing after or replacing lost or stolen gear.

Example:  You get over the wall, but you lost your balance and almost fell at the top, and your bow slipped off your back, clattering down the other side.  What do you do?

5. Make something deal damage

Things in D&D deal damage all the time, and failed checks are an ideal time to do it.  Damage is part of the combat system stakes, but you can deal damage outside of combat, too.  This makes the PCs more vulnerable if a combat starts.  They might take the time to heal the damage you dealt, so don't bother dealing damage unless you're dealing at least twice the party's level in total damage to a single character, or an amount equal to the party level to every character.  You can deal more damage than that, if you want.  Five times the party's level is a heck of a lot of damage.  Ten times the party's level is likely to drop or kill someone.  This is the best hard move when the PCs know there’s a battle looming, enemies chasing them, or they’re on a short timer and have to hurry.  It combines well with “Have the dungeon interfere” because dungeon hazards from Kobold archers to pits of fire often deal damage.

Example:  You get over the wall, exhausted and scraped up.  Take 1d6 damage.  What do you do?  (The example character could be Level 2, so 1d6 damage hurts enough to be worth it).

6. Name the price, and ask

Describe how the character will fail unless they pay a price.  The price has to be a resource that the characters care about.  If the party is not racing against the clock, wasting an hour of time isn't a big deal.  If the party has ten thousand gold pieces, twenty silver pieces isn't a big deal.  You can also name the price in terms of story - “give us the child and you can walk away” or “I’ll tell you, but you’ll owe me.”  Like “Take away their stuff,” this move can highlight the resource management aspect of D&D pretty well, but it introduces a hard bargain, so it’s even better for highlighting strategic decision making or adding complications to their well laid plans.  It’s also a natural hard move in social conflicts, to make NPCs demand proof, bribes, compromises, or concessions.

Example:  You'll need to use all your pitons if you want to climb over this wall.  You won't be able to get them back from the other side, so you’ll have to mark them off your sheet.  What do you do?

7. Put someone in a spot

The character's failure puts them in a sudden, unexpected, dangerous situation.  They need to take immediate and decisive action or get help from their allies to get out of it.  You can also put a character in a vulnerable position.  This is a hard move that changes the situation dramatically, but still gives the character a chance to get away.  Unlike “Make something deal damage,” you’re giving the PCs a chance to avoid the danger.  The character in the tight spot can be the one who failed the roll, or the failure can put someone else in a spot. This is the best move for raising the stakes fast.

Example:  You get to the top of the wall, using the vines as handholds.  Just as you're about to grab the top edge, the vines start to tear away.  You fall five feet immediately before the vines catch.  You're dangling twenty feet off the ground, and the vines are about to tear the rest of the way free.  What do you do?

8. Split the party

The old advice "don't split the party" is there for a reason.  Players want to avoid splitting the party because it really puts the characters in a tight spot.  So if you want to raise the stakes quickly, split the party.  This move is dramatic in a dungeon or wilderness, where the characters can’t get back together before they have to face another monster, hazard, or obstacle before they can reconnect.  You can split the party on the small scale, too.  Open a simple ten foot wide chasm between them as they march single-file down a five foot wide hallway, or have the monsters attack right in the middle of the group.  It’s also interesting to split the characters up across a larger scale like a city or even continent.  There are drawbacks to the GM for running a split party for a long time, so most of the time, you should create a split that the players can resolve within a few hours of play at most.  This is the best move to make when the characters are in dangerous, unfamiliar territory and already feel a little lost.

Example:  Near the top of the wall, there's only one handhold.  You have to perch on this one tiny ledge and lunge for the top.  It's a heck of a reach, but you make it -- barely.  Unfortunately, as you lunge, the ledge cracks and falls free.  There's no way for anyone else to get up here.  What do you do?

9. Reveal an unwelcome truth or signal an approaching threat

This is a great "soft move" that moves the story along and raises the tension without making the players deal with a new complication.  Unwelcome truths are facts that are true in the game world, that the player characters will not like.  "...[S]ignal an approaching threat" means give the players a hint that things are about to get worse.  You can signal an approaching threat by hinting that some distant creature has become aware of the characters, even vaguely.  It’s the best move to make when the PCs are feeling safe or when they don’t know what’s going on or what kinds of dangers await them. It's the best move to make to introduce the stakes of the situation the PCs are in.  It can also hint at distant happenings in the larger story or reveal dark truths about the campaign setting.  Magic is dying.  The plague has come to Neverwinter.  The cult is close to freeing the Bound God.  It’s fun on the small scale, too.  See the example.

Example:  You get to the top of the wall with a lot of effort.  When you pull yourself over, your armor makes a loud CLANG! that reverberates down the dark hallway ahead of you.  If there's anything down there, it knows you're here now.  What do you do?

10. Increase the time pressure

D&D works best as a race against the clock, because it has a tight resource management system where every PC resource refreshes after a certain amount of time.  If there’s no hurry, the PCs are much, much stronger.  Consequently, DMs almost always create some reason to hurry.  When you make this move, you introduce a new timer, use up valuable time, or shorten the fuse.  Introduce a new timer by describing a new race against the clock.  For instance, a sentry runs off to warn their boss, or the characters learn that something bad happens in this dungeon when night falls.  Run down the clock by making actions take a lot longer than planned.  Shorten the fuse by revealing an unwelcome truth:  That the characters have a lot less time than they thought.  Be aware of the rest mechanics in 5e and how they create time pressure.  Here are some ways to increase the time pressure:

• Create new time pressure where there was none
• Put some new event on the clock (e.g. rival adventurers arriving in an hour)
• Deny them the chance to take a rest before the next battle
• Remind them how many hours are left on the clock (if they’re nearly out of time)
• Take a day off the clock (where there are fewer than ten days left)
• Take an hour off the clock (where there are fewer than ten hours left)
• Take fifteen minutes off the clock (where there are fewer than 3 hours left)
• Take a round off the clock (where there are fewer than 20 rounds or 2 minutes left)

This is the best move to make when you want to push the PCs to take hasty, exciting, risky, bold, heroic action. It's the best move to stop them from being too cautious.

Example:  You approach the wall, but quickly realize there are no handholds.  It's flat brick.  But there is some scrap wood here, and you could build a sturdy ladder long enough to get to the top.  It will take about an hour.  What do you do? (In the example situation, using up an hour is only interesting if there are fewer than ten hours on the clock.)

Ask, "What do you do?"

Traditionally, according to Vincent Baker, when the GM makes a Move, they should follow it by asking a player or all the players, “What do you do?’  This passes the "talking stick" back to them and makes everything you say into a prompt for them -- requiring their input. You can use this question to focus closer on the acting character, broaden the focus to let anyone else jump in, or refocus the spotlight on a different character.  Use body language and character names to shift the focus of the action around.  Here’s an example where the DM makes a move that leverages an opportunity for someone's class and then uses "What do you do?" to shift the spotlight.

Example:  OK, Barbarian, near the top of the wall, there's only one handhold.  You have to perch your toes on this one tiny ledge and lunge for the top.  It's a heck of a reach, but you get to the top -- barely.  Unfortunately, as you lunged, the ledge cracked and fell free.  There's no way for anyone else to get up here without magic.  Wizard, Cleric:  What do you do?

Fail Forward

You may have heard of the term "fail forward" used in RPGs.  In the business self-help world, the concept means "failing because you took a risk and it didn't work" as opposed to "failing because you did not take a risk."  It's meant to urge people to take risks, and remind people that successful entrepreneurs are always failing because they take more risks than typical businessmen.

The term was adapted to RPGs because it sounds good.  This is a very bad reason to pick a term.  Worse, if you google "fail forward" you find a lot of websites full of business jargon.  What's a confused GM to do?

Let's start with an RPG definition of Fail Forward.

When people talk about Fail Forward in RPGs, they mean that failure should not stop the action, and failure should always have interesting consequences.

I suggest that we stop saying "fail forward" now, because it's confusing, it's business jargon, and googling it finds all the wrong links.  I don't need to make up yet another term to replace it.  Instead, I suggest we just start using the term for it from Fate Core, "succeed at a cost."

(If you're really wedded to the term "fail forward" just use find-and-replace.)

Why should I use the "succeed at a cost" technique?  

Every time the dice come out, there are two possibilities.  Things might go the way the PC wanted, or they might not.  Degrees of success, critical hits, botches, and other rules are just degrees of those two possibilities.  Duh.

So when that roll comes up a failure, you want it to have interesting consequences, but you can't have those consequences stop the action.

Example:  Imagine you're running a Vampire: the Masquerade game, and the Nosferatu, Sai, is searching for information on a bizarre Greek translation of the Book of Nod called the Gennimata Annotations by calling his academic contacts.  
GM ("Storyteller" in Vampire):  OK, give me a Charisma + Etiquette check to get them to open up about such a dangerous book.  You can add your Contacts to the roll, but I'm raising the difficulty to 9 because the Book of Nod, especially the Gennimata Annotations, terrifies mortals.  
Sarah (Sai):  8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 2, 2.  Fail.

So what do you do?  It seems like the stakes for that roll were "track down the Gennimata Annotations or fail to do so."  Just because the dice failed to roll high doesn't mean the character failed to achieve his goal.  A bad die roll just means the character performs poorly; not that the character just stops.

Think about it:  Let's say you're calling around looking for a copy of the hot new indie RPG.  You call several game stores and check Amazon, but everyone is out of stock.  Do you just give up?

Well, maybe.  It's just a game.  You can wait and see if they restock later.  And in a boring story, Sai would just give up, too, because finding the Gennimata Annotations wasn't really that important.

But it is that important or else you wouldn't have a plot about it!

So what's the GM to do?

Traditionally, here's what happens.

GM:  Nobody Sai knows can tell him where to find a Gennimata.
Greg (Galdos the Tremere):  OK.  Well, let me check my occult connections.  I know a bunch of thelema temples.  Maybe one of them will have a line on a Gennimata.
GM:  Sure, make a Charisma+Etiquette check.
Greg:  Cool, one success.
GM:  OK, they know there's a guy who has a copy, Professor Helmut Knecht.  He acquired it in the 80s and has rejected all offers to buy it.

There are more disadvantages than advantages to doing it this way.  The main advantage is that more than one player got involved in the scene.   The disadvantage is that the pace slowed and the table wasted time.  This is the "inevitable success shuffle."  If everyone gets to roll something until someone succeeds, success is inevitable because failure means the game is over.  Too many RPG investigations work like that.

You may be more familiar with the D&D version of the shuffle.

Rogue:  The old monk said there was a secret door in the narthex of the old cathedral.  I search for secret doors.  16.
GM:  You find no secret doors.
Fighter:  I see her searching and join in.  18.
GM:  You find no secret doors.
Wizard:  I attempt to Aid Another.  8.
GM:  No good.
Cleric:  I guess I'd better help search too.  21.
GM:  At the base of a column, you notice a geometric pattern.  When you press one of the triangles, the column sinks slowly into the floor, old masonry, dirt, and dust falling away after it.  The mechanism must be hydraulic, as you notice the cracked fountain on the East side of the room gurgling and spurting black, fetid water all over the floor.

What a waste of time!

At least in our vampire example, the Nosferatu and Tremere were engaged in slightly different activities, highlighting their characters' roles and resources.  In a way, that's not so bad.  But what if the Tremere failed, too?  How long would the table spend just trying to get the next clue?

System note:  Gumshoe system games make it impossible to fail to move the game forward on an investigation action.  If the players are seeking information, as long as they have the skill, they automatically succeed.  But the GM can still make "succeed at cost" happen.  Let's say you're playing a Bookhounds of London Gumshoe game and the players are searching for the Gennimata Annotations.  One player says that they have Research, so they can find out who last acquired a copy.  The GM has to give that player a clue to move the game forward, but they can add a complication:  The Gennimata Annotations can shatter minds.  You can track down who last acquired a copy, but if you don't give me a Reassurance or High Society spend, you'll leave the collectors who know about it gossiping about you behind your back...

In the D&D example, there is absolutely no reason to keep rolling checks.  Eventually the party would find the secret door.  If they all failed, what would the DM do?  What would the players do?

I'll tell you what they'd do.  They'd go back to town and bring that old monk.  And if that didn't work?  They'd hire henchmen.  More wasted time!  Statistically, they're eventually going to succeed at the check.  That's why it's the "inevitable success shuffle" - so it seems pointless to call for a roll at all.

Or is it?

With "succeed at a cost," we can still have stakes for a die roll, but "halt the action" doesn't have to be the failure condition.  There are other ways to screw up, after all.


How do I use "succeed at a cost"?

There are two ways to use "succeed at a cost" depending on when you decide to implement it.  If you decide to set the stakes for the die roll ahead of the action, you can use "succeed at cost" instead of "failure" as your stakes.  Otherwise, you just have to describe failures in ways that change the situation and don't hold the game back.

Just think up how things could go wrong for the PC that don't necessarily involve failing to move the game forward.  Here's how we'd do it with our two examples.

GM ("Storyteller" in Vampire):  OK, give me a Charisma + Etiquette check to get them to open up about such a dangerous book.  You can add your Contacts to the roll, but I'm raising the difficulty to 9 because the Book of Nod, especially the Gennimata Annotations, terrifies mortals.  If you fail, you'll lose one of your contacts for a while.
Sarah (Sai):  8, 8, 4, 3, 2, 2, 2.  Fail.
GM:  You learn that it passed through one of your contacts' hands in the 80s.  At first she acts like she doesn't know what you're talking about.  But with some prodding, you unlock her repressed memories of the horrible thing.  It's basically a book of living nightmares.  She only saw a few pages, but that was enough to traumatize her mortal mind.  The words come out along with the tears.  So many tears...  Your Contacts goes down by 1 for a month, but you learn that she acquired the book for a Professor named Helmut Knecht in the 80s.  

Not only is the consequence for failure harsher (loss of a Background point for a month), but this way the GM has an opportunity to accelerate the pace.  This description of the Gennimata Annotations drives home how awful the book is.  What kind of professor would buy such a thing?  What's he been doing it with it for a decade?

Here's the D&D example:


Rogue:  The old monk said there was a secret door in the narthex of the old cathedral.  I search for secret doors.  
GM:  OK hold on.  You're searching a crumbling cathedral for the entrance to the dungeon for tonight's game.  You're going to find it.  But if your roll doesn't come up 20 or better, it takes you all day, and you'll be going down into the dungeon in the dead of night.  You'll be rolling for the whole group.  Take a +2 to represent their help.
Rogue:  Ah crud.  18.
GM:  Hours after twilight, you've burned through six torches and still nothing.  In your despair, you slump against a column and hear a loud THUNK!  You must have hit a hidden switch by accident! The column sinks slowly into the floor, old masonry, dirt, and dust falling away after it in the dark.  The mechanism must be hydraulic, as you notice the cracked fountain on the East side of the room that Fighter was examining starts gurgling and spurting black, fetid water all over the floor.

Instead of the consequence for failure being wasted table time, the GM has decided to make the consequence for failure be wasted game world time.  Obviously both are "bad," but wasted table time is bad for the whole game while wasted game world time is bad only for the characters.  For the players and GM, it adds to the sense of urgency and danger of exploring the ancient dungeon.  So it's good for the game.  (Remember the fun formula.)


But failure still happens, right?

Sure.  Sometimes failure itself is interesting and drives the game forward.  When narrating failure, don't narrate a "nothing happens" failure.  That always leads to the "inevitable success shuffle."  And that's dumb.  Instead, make the consequence of the failure itself move the game forward.

(This is why people latched on to the term "fail forward" - it's a failure that still moves the game forward. If that term was not already taken by business jargon, it would be appropriate.  But it is, so we really shouldn't re-use it.)

Consider failing to disarm a trap, setting it off, and breaking your thieves' tools.  That's cool!  Consider pleading to the proud Baron, only to make him angry and exile you.  That's an interesting twist!  Consider trying to intimidate a crooked cop, only to have him draw his gun on you - that ratchets up the tension!  Consider trying to talk a spy into revealing information, only to have him demand an exorbitant price for it - ouch, that smarts!

Here are a few ways to make failure interesting:

1. Add a game complication (broken thieves' tools): Game complications can be as sweeping as changes to the game itself, or as simple as losing a piece of equipment (or the lost Contacts point in the Vampire example, above).
2. Add a story complication (exiled by the Baron):  Introduce a new obstacle that either needs to be dealt with right now, or could be a serious problem in the future.  The lost time in the D&D example, above, is a story complication.(By the way, the best story complications connect to the players' character hooks.)  
3. Raise the stakes (crooked cop draws his gun):  Make the consequences of future failures even worse.
4. Charge for success:  Give the PCs the choice to fail unless they pay something that the game makes it hard to get back.  "Your contact won't talk unless you give her one of your healing potions."

Notice how none of these consequences are boring, and none of them allow your players to engage in the "inevitable success shuffle."  

In each example, there's a bad way to handle failure that is quick, simple, obvious...   and wrong:  You fail to disarm the trap; you fail to persuade the Baron; you fail to intimidate the crooked cop; you fail to get the contact to reveal his information.  

You can even put this on your GM screen to remind you of your options when you run a failed check or set the stakes ahead of a roll:

  Succeed at a cost

  Game complication

  Story complication

  Raise the stakes

  Charge for success

Remember that "rolling to succeed" implies "...and to avoid a consequence."  If it's not clear if there is a consequence, you're thinking about it wrong.  Failing to climb the wall doesn't mean you simply walk up to the wall, grab a rock, strain, slip, and shrug your shoulders.  That's not how humans work.  They don't give up that easily, and nothing is ever that simple.  Failing to climb a wall means...

• You climbed the wall, but twisted your knee, had some hard slips and falls, and cut your hand for a total of 1d6 damage.  (Succeed at a cost)
• You tried to climb the wall, but you put too much weight on a lower handhold and broke it off when you slipped.  Now anyone trying to climb the wall has a -1 penalty.  (Game complication)
• You tried to climb the wall, but fell noisily.  Now the guards probably know you're here.  (Story complication)
• You tried to climb the wall for five minutes, with no success.  Now you're running out of time and getting nowhere.  (Raise the stakes)
• You can't figure out a way to get up this wall without leaving the rope and pitons behind.  (Charge for success)

Never just say "you fail to climb the wall".  That's not failure.  That's a waste of everyone's time.

"Nothing" is not a consequence of failure.  

It's literally what happens when the GM isn't doing their job.  

If you want to make "nothing" happen, just sit there and play on your phone.  

Your job is to make the world react to the players' actions.  

"Nothing" is not a reaction.  

Do your job!