Frustrated Player Syndrome: Player Agency

I've been running and playing in D&D games for over two decades now, along with other gaming systems. Still D&D has been my bread and butter and the rules that I continually return to. Recently, the last few games that I've run have not been without some tension between the players and myself as the story teller. On more than one occasion I have had players express frustration with the game as a whole, or at the very least a particular act of the story.

The reasons for frustration expressed have varied from: lack of player agency, difficulty of encounters, despondency, among others.

It wasn't too long ago that I had a relatively long discussion with two of my current players over how they were perceiving and experiencing the game, and because of this conversation I thought it might be worthwwhile to write a post about player frustrations. As I started writing this, I realized that there was a lot here. In order to focus on the different causes for frustration, and give them full coverage, I decided to split this into at leaat three separate articles.

The structure of these article is going to look at a number of catalysts for player frustration, within the context of the larger issue at-hand, take examples from past games that I've run, or played in, and examine what could have been done by the story teller and players to change the outcome so that everyone at the table was enjoying themselves.

Although the point of this article, and others like it, is to explore these issues, I expect that readers may find my tone more defensive than concilatory at times. Especially where I analyze my own decisions as a story teller. My intent isn't to say "I'm right, my players' were wrong", but rather to provide some degree of context which contributed to the frustration that my players experienced.

What is "Player Agency" and why is it so important?

First, before we talk about anything else, we want to understand what "player agency" is and why it is important. This is also one of the most common reasons for players to harbor feelings of frustration with a game.

So what is player agency?

Player agency is the ability for players to influence the world around them. Every action that they take has some appreciable effect on the world. If the characters save a village from being destroyed by bandits, that village may celebrate them as heroes. Should those self-same characters ever return to the village, the villagers are likely to remember them and continue to treat them as heroes. Although this example is extremely simplistic, it still represents the idea of player agency as a player's actions have had a direct impact on the world that they are interacting with.

As a final note in defining player agency, it is worth observing that it is just as important that a player's choices which result in negative consequences not be invalidated.

Players Need Agency

At times I have been accused, and rightly so, of writing stories for my games as one might write a story for a novel or other piece of consumption media. I almost always try to write the story, at least the broad brushstrokes of one, in such a way that anticipates what the players are most likely to do in response to certain situations.

I try to think of as many significant permutations that might impact their decisions and account for as many of these conditions as possible. I do this because I like to be prepared for any situation when running a game. Personally, I feel that it helps to create a smoother and more cohesive experience for the players, as well as giving me—the story teller—a better idea of the story's details. However, there are times when designing an adventure that I make misguided assumptions regarding how the players will act. When I fall into this trap, like many other game masters, it can sometimes be difficult to divest myself from the story I've written and the story that the players are creating.

As the game master I have a disproportionate amount of influence and control over how the story is told. Games, however, are not like a novel—despite the fact that the scope of their stories may give this illusion. The players need to feel safe and capable of collaborating with the game master to create a shared story. To exercise their decisions, good or bad, and accept the consquences of their actions.

If you've ever played in a D&D game, or any other table-top role-playing game, you're probably reading this and thinking: "yes, and grass is green." The above statement may seem obvious, and shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone familiar with these types of games. Whenever you include another person in the story crafting process you're creating opportunities to change and mutate the story dramatically from its original inception. Often times creating a better story in the process.

So, despite knowing how important it is for a player to have impact on a story, why do some game masters find themselves constructing games that seemingly infringe on a player's agency? How does it harm a game? How do you reconcile the desire as a story teller to craft a well-defined narrative, while keeping player agency in mind?

Why do game masters construct games that infringe on player agency?

Or, perhaps a better way of wording this question is: "how does the story of a game—which almost certainly began with only the the best of intentions—change to one where players feel like they have a lack of agency?"

There is probably no one, single, right answer to this question. For me, however, I think it speaks to my process. When I begin writing an adventure I do so by constructing the framework of the story followed by a narrative. In order to see the flow of the story from beginning to end, I have to make some assumptions as to how the players might have their characters react to certain situations. As a result, depending on when I'm writing, I might devise character archtypes that are different from those the players ultimately create. Furthermore, I begin to project a particular narrative that I find to be the most interesting, not out of malice but because I'm creating in isolation.

As a result, my desire to produce a cohesive and well thoughtout story begins to paint a picture of the adventure I want to run and see played, down to many of the narrative and experience elements I think the players should have. I want to be clear: I don't think the intention I have here is necessarily bad provided that I can separate my vision of the story from what the players will co-create with me when we begin the actual game. However, the narrative I end up constructing is not always aligned with the player's objectives and as a result can easily lead to instances of rail roading players down a particular path and infringing upon their agency.

I want to quickly reiterate that writing the framework for an adventure as you might approach writing a short story, novel, or screen play is not necessarily a bad thing. It can be an effective tool to create the backbone of the story and provide guidance on how the narrative unfolds. You do, however, need to be careful when doing this, and always be aware that your players should also have an impact on the stories being told.

How does the lack of player agency harm a game?

After one session in a game I was running, one of the players pulled me aside to express his frustrations with the story at the time. The player said something along the following lines: "I feel like our characters are playing supporting roles in the story, and that if we weren't here the story would still march toward a resolution. I don't feel like anything we're doing is impacting the story at all."

Those are some pretty harsh words to hear as a game master, as the whole point of running a game for other people is to provide a collaborative environment for them to not only experience the story you're presenting, but to also play a part in crafting it themselves.

Even worse, the player in question didn't feel that it mattered what he, or the rest of the group, did. To compare it to a TV show's roster, he felt like the party—not just his character—were guest stars and not part of the main cast.

As in the above anecdote, the lack of player agency often results in a game where the players begin to feel that no matter what choices they make, nothing actually matters. Once this happens you're not longer running a game for players, you're simply telling a story to an audience which will participate minimally and only when you say its OK for them to do so. If a player wanted to enjoy a story where they have no influence on the outcome, they are probably better off staying home and reading a book or watching a television program.

In some ways an game where the player's choices don't matter has less agency than a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book.

Feelings of futility in a game can result in players withdrawing from the game or over correcting.

When players withdraw they try to affect the world and the story less and as a result relinquish more-and-more player agency which has an effect of perpetuating the cycle of frustration.

On the other hand, players might try to over correct and pursue dramatic actions not necessarily in alignment with the story or their characters to prove that they do in fact have agency in the game. A game master might incorrectly see this as players acting out. A sudden desire to stop following the story and go slay a tribe of goblins for no other apparent reason, or a similar incident, can sometimes be a red flag that the players are desparately trying to regain some modicum of control in the game.

Another area where the lack of agency harms a game is when there are no consequences to a player's actions. For example, if a player's choices result in their character's death, many game masters find themselves creating excuses and even reversing the consequences. This has the unhealthy effect of telling players that, no matter what they do, their characters won't suffer the consequences of their actions.

How do you reconcile a well-crafted, complete, story while retaining player agency?

Retaining player agency is important, whether it is a player's ability to affect the story or accepting that the consequences of choices made by both the game master and the story teller. With that being said, the point of games like D&D is to have fun.

When I was young I first heard someone explain the nature of table top role-playing games like this: "unlike boardgames where there is typically one winner and everyone else loses, everyone wins in [Dungeons and Dragons] as long as they are enjoying themselves."

As game masters and players we have to keep in mind that we're gathering together not just to play a game and participate in a story, but also to have fun. Sometimes the least fun thing to happen in a game is having your character die, especially to random chance. There is an unspoken contract that is formed between members of a gaming group, and part of that silent agreement is often all players will act in the best interest of the group toward maintaining a fun environment for everyone involved. As such, especially for story tellers, we need to be aware of when our players aren't enjoying themselves and we need to adjust or plans accordingly. Even if that means reversing a character's death.

I was taken by surprise in the above example where I was pulled aside by a player and informed that he felt his actions had no bearing on the story. I was honestly unaware that even one of my players was feeling impotent when it came to having an impact on the story.

From my perspective, as the game master, I knew exactly what impact he and the other players' were having on the story. I knew that the reason why some things were happening were a direct result of the decisions that the players had made, or had not made, earlier. However, my players couldn't see that because they were experiencing things from a very different perspective and had limited knowledge of everything else happening around them.

Roads Not Taken

I always try to explain to my players that every action, even inaction, has a result on my games. This understanding alone unfortunately is insufficient. Players need to see how their decisions, for better or for worse, are impacting the world.

In one case, they had chosen not to investigate a spreading disease (in part because it felt like a no-win situation; another cause of player frustration which I plan to dive into deeper in a future article), this had repurcussions for the world beyond the game but it also prevented them from discovering more about some of characters who had been their adversaries up until now.

In an effort to reassure the players of their agency in the above, I could have found ways to provide more information—more context—to them. I made a conscious choice as the game master to treat the disease like a mystery, one that would have to be uncovered gradually. Still, I could have provided more clues upfront, giving them more opportunities to find out details that would make the adventure hook more appealing.

They might have elected not to pursue the story line with the disease after all, but they would have been able to make a better informed choice. After choosing not to follow that adventure hook, the continued advance of the disease fell to the background, but it still posed a threat. We spent so much time focused on their immediate concerns that all of the branching story lines—including the one related to the disease—were all but lost and forgotten. When that story line did resurface at the end of the game it seemed far more important than it had when they had made their earlier decision not to pursue it.

In choosing not to follow the story line that would reveal the truth behind the disease, they allowed critical elements of the overall story to develop without their involvement. This resulted in a late-game encounter with a character who had previously been an enemy. Had they followed the adventure hook about the spreading disease they would have been given the opportunity to save this character's life, along with the lives of many innocents. They also would have learned why their former adversary would choose to ally with them. Instead without this context, when she resurfaced, the players didn't understand the character's change in behavior, they mistrusted her (she had tricked them in a similar way previously), and worse they felt that they were once again inconsequential to the story.

It is hard for players to make informed decisions some times in games, and as a result it may feel like the choices they make are "wrong". On one hand, the characters shouldn't be privy to information that they would not otherwise have. On the other, players may feel that they are flailing blindly in the dark and that there is little reason for them to choose one path or another.

A balance needs to be struck by the game master between giving too little information and too much. In doing so the players will be able to make more informed choices about how they interact with the adventure.

An Unresponsive World

Another time my players became frustrated was after attempting, and failing, to lure a monster out from its lair. The monster had been terrorizing a village, stealing children in the night. Children started to go missing shortly after several strangers visited the town, as such the villagers had become suspicious of any outsiders. The players knew a few things: the children disappeared at night, there was never any indication of a struggle, no remains of any of the missing children had been found, and the strangers who visited the village had already left. After gaining more of the villager's trust, the characters were permitted to stay in the village and they lent their aid in uncovering the mystery.

The characters discovered footprints that led into the forest toward a lake. These footprints ended at the banks of the lake, leading the players to rightly assume that whatever was spiriting the children away made its lair in or around the lake.

In order to coax the creature out of its lair, they waited until dark and used a small, child-sized, straw doll on a raft as bait. They also tried other tactics such as wading into the water themselves. Everything they tried was met with failure; the monster had emerged from another exit of its lair and attacked the village, stealing another child, all while the characters were preoccupied with the lake. Although I admit to having written this part of the adventure with another child being spirited away in mind, the player's failure to prevent the tragedy had more to do with the strategies they were employing over anything else. Despite this fact, the players perceived that no matter what they had chosen to do, the results of that night would have been the same.

Eventually they uncovered enough clues to find another entrance to the creature's lair. After injuring it and causing it to flee the characters returned to the village to find that, somehow, the monster had reached the village ahead of them and was attacking in broad daylight. They had assumed since it only hunted at night and dwelled in a dark cavern, that it would not operate in the daylight. In the end they killed the monster but in doing so a number of the captive children died in the process. The players felt bitter about their victory, believing that no matter what they did, some or all of the children were going to die. The monster would either drain them of all their life, using it to heal its wounds, or they would have to risk endangering the children in attempting to kill the creature quickly.

This was, perhaps, a particularly egregious example of me failing my players. Years ago one of my players had run a game where a very similar scenario had played out. This adventure was an homage to it. However in many ways I was too interested in reliving the past that I didn't allow my player's creativity to produce a new outcome and create memories unique to the game they were now playing in.

Although there were good reasons for how everything played out in the game, the players still saw most of their attempts as futile. Nothing they did seemed to have an impact on the world around them, and all of their attempts to create a positive outcome were diminished, if not outright met with failure. They came to feel that their role in this part of the story was irrelevant.

Again, I could have done a better job of giving the players more information about the situation I think. If I had truly wanted them to be successful at luring the creature out from the lake I could have found ways to encourage them to try different things. Even upon failing to lure the creature out, perhaps, they might have learned something valuable. Or, in the end encounter with the creature perhaps I could have been more open to providing the players alternative solutions that would have resulted in a more positive outcome. Looking back to it now, I could have allowed the players to have rescued a more of the children from the monster's lair. At least here they would have felt that they had succeeded to some small extent.

Fixed Story Elements

As a final example, I want to look at fixed story elements and their impact on player agency. Fixed story elements are those immutable aspects of a game which, no matter how hard a player tries, they can't affect. At least not in that moment.

A good example of this, again, comes from one of my games. There was a particular adversary who the characters had encountered in passing—the players knew next to nothing about him, beyond the fact that he was an associate of the primary villain in the game up to that point. They had just escaped from a particularly dire situation and they discovered that their escape, in part, was assisted by this adversary, Raub. One of the players had his character immediately attack Raub, despite the fact that he had been described as not posing a present threat to the characers.

Raub was still important to the story, as such each of the player's character's spell attacks were rendered ineffectual, bouncing off of an impenetrable magical barrier that had been erected around Raub. The magical barrier was a narrative tool that I used to convey to the players that it was not yet possible for them to fight and kill Raub.

As a result some of the players felt again that their agency had been stripped away from them, and it further undermined their successful escape from the previously dire situation they found themselves in. Not only was the world (in this case, an adversary) unresponsive to their direct influence, but there was also the lingering, nagging, doubt that their hard found victory in the dungeon was actually theirs. They questioned if their characters were in any real danger to begin with or if they had simply been rail roaded through the entire harrowing experience. They reasoned that if they had done nothing that they would still have escaped with their lives.

Personally I feel that in some cases it is alright to have fixed story elements that defy player meddling. There are many reasons a story teller might want to incorporate these into a game. Players, however, shouldn't feel helpless when confronting them. Part of running a fun game is communicating with your players and being honest with them. In cases like the above, with Raub, I could have either given the players a small victory which might have satisfied their desire to inflict injury their adversary, while still having allowed me to prevent any serious harm from coming to him. I could also have allowed the outburst of attacks and then explained to the player that, due to certain circumstances, he he would be unable to mount any sort of meaningful challenge on Raub at this time.

Instead, the other players were the ones who realized that this NPC was untouchable. The other player backed off, but I could see that the group was frustrated. Not only because they were unable to have an impact on the world, but because some of their time had been wasted in the futile attacks.

Final Thoughts

When I was a kid both running and playing in games it was a common theme that all of our characters were heroes and we generally had altruistic motivations. Not only did my world present in black and white, but the worlds of our games did as well. Good rose to combat evil. Later as we began to grow, so did our characters. They weren't all good, but we still played in service of the adventure, embracing whatever was thrown at us.

The games which I run today have evolved significantly from those that I ran when I was a kid. Today the game's conflict often manifests in shades of gray. In many games, I include situations where the players and their characters are presented with difficult choices and sometimes the only options they have are bad ones, and worse ones. I realize that, especially when running games like this, I need to be more aware of my players and situations where their agency might be coming second to the story.

Player agency is vital to any game, but there is a fine balance between telling a collaborative story and constructing an open world sandbox. Neither type of game is better than the other, but communication and understanding what type of game your players want is important.

If your players are getting frustrated, have an open and honest conversation with them. Try to see things from their perspective and consider how you would feel in their situation. Try to remove yourself from the position of omniscience as it pertains to your game and its story.

By understanding your player's concerns you'll be able to understand what behaviors you need to correct as a game master, or understand what you can do to reassure your players that their agency is not being infringed upon. Perhaps most importantly: don't take offense to a player expressing their frustration with your game.

Additional Reading

Player agency has been written about my many individuals, and a quick search of the RPG StackExchange question and answer site can reveal a number of questions related to this topic.

If this topic interests you, and you want to read more about it, the following articles might be of interest to you:

• Hack & Slash: On Theory, Player Agency: Defined
• Hack & Slash: On the Importance of Agency
• Hack & Slash: On How an Illusion Can Rob Your Game of Fun
• The Alexandrian: The Railroading Manifesto

Credits

This article uses a photograph from CritIt as the cover image and the image: The Dungeon Master by Victor Maury. It also uses an image from the Wizards of the Coast article: "Being a Dungeon Master for Kids".