Collaborative Storytelling

Dungeons & Dragons is a game that’s played many different ways, and each table you sit down at runs things differently. The DM has their own style, and players bring their own expectations. The tone, the pacing, the balance of mechanics to narrative, all of it shifts from group to group. That variety is what makes the game work across so many different kinds of people, but it also means it’s easy to end up at a table that just doesn’t work for you.

Maybe the DM runs things in a way you don’t enjoy. Maybe another player dominates the spotlight or derails the session. Maybe nobody’s doing anything wrong at all, but the style of play doesn’t match what you’re looking for. DnD is supposed to be fun, but sometimes you find yourself walking away from session feeling like you had a bad time.

I’ve been there.

The Burial

Back in high school, I was playing at a friend’s table. The DM ran a tactical, consequences-driven game. The world was dangerous, decisions had weight, and if you made a bad call in hostile territory, the world didn’t wait for you to catch up. A lot of players love that style. It makes every choice feel like it matters, and survival itself becomes part of the fun.

After a rough encounter where several NPCs died, I decided my character would take the time to bury them. Dig the graves, say a few words, honor the dead before moving on. For me, that was the whole point of playing. My character had fought to protect these people and failed. I wanted to sit in that moment.

But in the game the DM was running, that decision had consequences. We were in dangerous territory, and spending time on a burial meant exposure. My character ended up dying because of it. There’s more detail to the story than that, but the short version is: I made a narrative choice in a game that rewarded tactical ones, and it cost me my character.

At the time, I was frustrated. But looking back, the DM was being consistent with the game they were running. A world where danger is real means danger is real, even when you’re doing something meaningful. The problem wasn’t that the DM was wrong. The problem was that I wanted a game where burying the dead was the kind of moment the table leaned into, and I was playing at a table where the world kept moving whether you were ready or not. We were playing the same game with different priorities.

Finding Your Table

That experience helped me understand what I’m actually looking for when I sit down to play. Not every table is going to fit, and that’s not a problem to solve. It’s just something to be aware of.

Combat is another example. I know a lot of players who live for tactical encounters, who love optimizing builds, counting spell slots, and navigating complex battle maps. I get the appeal. But personally, I find roleplay far more interesting when I’m on the player side of the screen. The moments between fights, the conversations with NPCs, the tension of a negotiation that could go sideways, that’s what I’m there for. A table that leans heavily into combat just isn’t going to be a great fit for me, and a table full of players like me probably isn’t going to satisfy someone who wants a tactical challenge every session.

Knowing that about yourself makes it a lot easier to find the right group. If you’re a player looking for a table, don’t be afraid to ask a DM what kind of game they run before you commit. Ask about the balance of combat to roleplay, how much freedom players have, whether the tone skews serious or casual. Most DMs will be happy to talk about it, and a short conversation up front can save everyone from a mismatch that nobody enjoys. If you sit down and it’s not working, that’s OK too. It doesn’t mean anyone did anything wrong. Move on and find a table that fits.

Reading the Room as a DM

Where this gets really interesting for me is on the DM side of the screen.

As a DM, I think the single most important skill you can develop is learning to read your players. Not just listening to what they say they want (though that matters too), but watching what actually lands during play. Noticing when someone leans in. Noticing when someone checks their phone. Paying attention to which moments get a reaction and which ones don’t.

Your players will tell you everything you need to know about what kind of game they want, often without saying a word. You just have to pay attention, and be willing to adapt.

Here are a few of the dials I’m constantly adjusting based on who’s at my table:

Combat vs. Roleplay

This is the most obvious one, and probably the most commonly discussed. Some groups want crunchy, tactical combat encounters with real stakes and mechanical depth. Others would happily go three sessions without rolling initiative if the story is compelling enough.

Most groups land somewhere in the middle, but the balance point varies wildly. I pay attention to which scenes generate the most energy. If the table comes alive during a barroom argument with a shady merchant, I know to lean into social encounters. If everyone’s eyes light up when I describe an ambush, I know they want more of that tension. The key is being responsive rather than prescriptive. Let the players’ engagement guide how much of each element you bring to the table.

Player-Driven vs. DM-Driven

This one is subtler, but just as important. Players’ choices should always matter, regardless of style. What changes is who’s driving the direction of the story.

Some groups want the DM to set the course. They want a story to follow, clear objectives, a sense of momentum that the DM provides. There’s nothing wrong with an on-the-rails experience if that’s what your players are looking for. It can be immersive to trust that the DM has built something worth following. But even in this style, the players’ decisions need to have weight. The DM decides where the road goes, but the players decide how they walk it, and those decisions should visibly shape what happens.

Other groups want a sandbox. They want to look at the world you’ve built, point in a direction, and say “what’s over there?” Sometimes they’ll want to skip the quest entirely, buy a boat, and see what’s on the other side of the map. For these players, the DM’s job is less about crafting a narrative and more about building a world that reacts. You create the factions, the politics, the geography, the tensions. But you don’t hoist them upon the players. You let the players discover and engage with them on their own terms.

In both cases, the players should feel like their choices matter. The difference is whether the DM is providing the direction or the players are. Watch for the signals: are your players constantly asking “what do we do next?” or are they already three steps ahead of you, making plans you never anticipated?

Difficult vs. Light-Hearted

This is the one I think gets overlooked the most. Some groups want stakes. They want to feel the weight of every decision, the threat of real consequences, the knowledge that failure is always on the table. They want the world to feel dangerous and their victories to feel earned.

Other groups are here to hang out. They want to laugh, do ridiculous things, and tell a story that’s more comedy than drama. They want their characters to succeed in spectacular fashion and they want the journey to feel fun, not stressful.

Neither of these is better than the other, and they’re not mutually exclusive. But the tone you set as a DM matters enormously. If you’re running a gritty, consequence-heavy campaign for a group that just wants to have fun with their friends on a Friday night, you’re going to drain the energy out of the room. And if you’re running a lighthearted romp for players who want to feel genuinely challenged, they’re going to disengage.

It’s All a Slider

None of these are binary choices. They’re all sliders, and the right position on each one depends entirely on the people at your table. The best DMs I’ve played with are the ones who treat these dials as something they’re constantly adjusting, session to session, sometimes even scene to scene, based on what the table needs in that moment.

Tables also go through seasons. A three-month buildup to a climactic battle carries a lot of tension, and after the dust settles, your players might need some downtime. A few sessions of lighter, lower-stakes play where the party restocks supplies, explores a new town, or just gets into something stupid at a tavern. Players get tired, fatigued by intensity the same way they get bored by monotony. Learning to vary the experience within the bounds of what your table enjoys is how you keep a long campaign feeling fresh.

The best players I’ve played with are the ones who know what they want from the game and are willing to communicate that to their DM and fellow players.

DnD is collaborative storytelling. Find the right table, and if you’re the one running it, build the right table for the people sitting at it.