A Roll Starts Before the Dice

“Can I roll for it?” is a perfectly reasonable question at a roleplaying table. It is also a question I want to answer with one of my own: what are you actually trying to do?

I have been working through this while building Lucky 8 for P.A.T.H.: Vietnam (Pivotal Actions Through History). It is tempting to begin with the mechanism. Pick an ability, find a number, throw dice, explain the result. There is a comforting order to it. Unfortunately, you can get all the way through that sequence without agreeing on what the Soldier attempted.

Then somebody has to explain why a very good roll did not do what the player thought it would. That is not the sort of surprise I want to build into the game.

Tell me how you plan to get through the gate

“Get through the gate” tells us what you want. It does not tell us what you do.

You could show an order, ask the radio operator to confirm a name, wait for a change of guard, bluff your way through or look for another entrance. Same objective. Very different afternoons.

The method tells the Narrator which Stat and Proficiency belong in the roll. It tells the other players how they might help. It also tells everyone what can go wrong. Bad paperwork may bring an awkward conversation. Trying another entrance may put you somewhere you should not be.

This is the part I enjoy: a short, ordinary description begins making a scene before anyone has touched a die. The player is already doing something more interesting than choosing the largest number on a sheet.

Three questions before a handful of dice

The first question is whether the method can work at all.

Can it reach the intended result in this situation? A radio call can request an available helicopter. It cannot create one. Talking confidently does not give you a language you do not speak. An inaccessible route does not become accessible because we found a dramatic Difficulty for it.

The second question is whether the action belongs to this Soldier.

Does he have the necessary training, permission, equipment and position? LifeP.A.T.H.—Previous Activities, Training, History—gives those questions somewhere to begin. The record tells us what he brought into service and what he was taught afterward. It is useful information, not a certificate saying he may now attempt everything.

The third question is whether it matters which way the action goes.

If a qualified person has the time and tools for ordinary work, let him do it. I do not need a suspenseful dice roll to discover whether he can clean the rifle he cleaned yesterday. If the rifle is damaged, time is short or the result changes what happens next, we have a different situation.

Three yeses mean a roll. Otherwise, tell the player what is missing or let the routine action happen. Either way, the scene moves.

A refusal should contain something useful

I dislike a dead end disguised as a ruling. “You cannot” leaves a player with very little. “You need the right tool, and the mechanic has it” gives the group something to do.

That does not guarantee an easy answer. The mechanic may be occupied. The tool may be somewhere inconvenient. Waiting may have a cost. But now we have a problem inside the world, and the player can respond to it.

A Soldier who cannot perform a qualified procedure can still help the person who can. He can make room, carry equipment, call for assistance or keep another problem from becoming worse. Sometimes that is the most useful contribution anybody makes.

I want the game to notice that work. A squad should be more than a collection of people waiting for their individual impressive moments.

Say the number, then say the cost

Once the attempt exists, the Narrator names the Difficulty and the principal consequence before the roll. Both, out loud.

The Difficulty tells you what sort of undertaking this is. The consequence tells you why you might choose another plan. A missed call means the warning arrives late. A failed repair leaves the vehicle behind. A missed throw leaves the gun firing and the squad exposed.

We do not have to describe every hidden detail. We do have to give the player enough information to make the decision their Soldier is facing.

That matters to me because I want the tension to come from choosing a risk. If I only tell you afterward how expensive the failure was, I have taken a decision away and called it drama. The game can be harsh without being evasive.

Do not make the same rain charge twice

Conditions and Difficulty have different jobs. Conditions remove dice for things interfering with the attempt. Difficulty describes the work defined by the objective and method.

If darkness removes a die, do not also raise the Difficulty for that same darkness. The Soldier is already paying for it. If a second obstacle exists, name it separately so the player can understand it.

This is where preparation becomes enjoyable. Find a light. Get somewhere dry. Ask somebody to keep the radio net clear. Choose a route that changes the job. You can make a better attempt by doing things in the scene, rather than searching for a phrase that persuades the Narrator to hand out a bonus.

I am trying to make those small decisions worth your attention. Carrying the right object should occasionally feel very satisfying, especially after you complained about its weight.

The result stays in the story

When the roll happens, it answers the question we agreed on. It does not automatically solve every problem nearby.

Putting a grenade through an opening is a delivery task. Its later effects have their own resolution. Getting a message through means somebody can receive it; it does not guarantee that help arrives immediately. A good roll deserves its result without expanding into whatever would be convenient next.

The same applies to failure. Something changes: time passes, an opening closes, a position becomes worse. Another attempt needs a meaningful change in the situation or method. Otherwise, we are just waiting for the dice to approve the answer we already wanted.

The habit I want us to learn

Start with one sentence: “I want this, and I am going to try it this way.”

Then find out whether it can work, whether the action is yours and what the result would change. Listen for the Difficulty and the consequence. Ask for help, improve the situation or take the risk.

That conversation is not preparation for playing Lucky 8. It is already play. The dice arrive when they have a useful question to answer, and I think the evening is better for it.