Deus Ex Ludus, God by the Game

I’ve always joked somewhat unthinkingly that running a Dungeons and Dragons game must be a lot like being God.

It was only when I started explaining it to Jill in the car last night that it occurred to me how much more there was to the analogy.

Of the numerous unconventional things you’d expect from our church, one of the most amusing is that every Sunday afternoon, you’ll find us rolling twenty-sided dice and narrating through a Dungeons and Dragons game, our pastor James sitting at the head of the table, a wry smile on his face, describing the encounters.

A little note on D&D before we continue, for those of you who don’t play. Context is important here.

Dungeons and Dragons is a narrative pen-and-paper game, with no computer screens or newfangled technology. The players each play the role of a character (you don’t always have to play yourself, either; I’m playing a 43 year-old female wizard, for instance). One person, the Game Master (or GM), plays the role of the narrator, narrating the scenes and encounters, describing the environment, and controlling all of the enemies and characters. The game basically follows the format of players role-playing through the environment that the GM has created, be it a dark dungeon, a fancy dinner party, or sailing on the high seas (all of which our player crew has done recently).

The important thing to note here is that it is very challenging to play the role of the Game Master; you walk a fine line between presenting a narrative that gives the players freedom to choose their own destiny, while also having a set plan in mind for how the story/game as a whole is going to go. Bad GMs often railroad the players into certain lines of action, without giving them choices; or else are so freeform that the players never have an idea of what they’re doing. Walking the line between the two is often quite a challenge, and trying to give the players free will while also leading them to the right paths is a challange I can only imagine God Himself faces.

However, last Sunday, I found myself on the flip side: playing the role of a character and attempting to follow along with our Game Master’s story.

Of all things, I found myself trying to out think our GM. What was he doing? Was this a clue? Is this choice suicide, or the opportunity we’ve been looking for? Should I do A, or B? What is in the interest of the crew? Will James punish us if I make decision X? Will he drop a horde of Goblins on our ship, or will we run up against a Kraken if I decide to sail west?

Needless to say, trying to figure out what your Game Master is going to do is hardly a good idea, since you can’t read his thoughts, and since, because he has absolute power over the game, he could literally do anything to or for the players.

Not unlike God, I realized. And then the analogy hit me: being a player in a Dungeons and Dragons game was a lot like being a Christian, and me trying to out think the GM was like me trying to out think God: since I couldn’t do either, I would only be making myself crazy.

But how then am I supposed to know which decision is the right one? How will I know what James will do to us, based on my decisions for the crew? And then it hit me: the real information I needed has to do with the kind of person James is. Is he merciful rarely, or often? Is he a kind man? Is he a strict man? Is he the kind of person to give us opportunities, or is he the kind to set traps? Does he enjoy watching us squirm, or does he enjoy watching us succeed?

It was then that I realized that all of the answers I needed came from what I knew about James as a person, and that information came from my relationship with James. The more time I spent talking to James and finding out what kind of person he is, the better I could predict which decisions in the game he would reward or punish. To know the mind of James, I must know James himself. I must be his friend.

How like the Christian walk with God…