"Serious" fumbles I can enjoy

As I’ve said before, I usually don’t like fumbles or critical failures in combat, at least in more "serious" campaigns; they make fighters look foolish.

Worse, the higher level a fighter gets, the more attacks they make; if every natural 1 is a fumble, fighters end up failing far too often. When you’re rolling 4 or 5 attacks per round, one of them is almost guaranteed to be a ridiculous blunder. Critical failures do happen in real life, but not nearly as often as a single die face suggests.

The idea of a saving throw to confirm whether the fumble actually happens is a decent (mathematical) fix; but with multiple attacks and multiple saves you end up with lots of rolls that don’t lead anywhere.

Instead of focusing on the character, we could focus on the weapon or the environment. Keep fumbles, but only in situations that are genuinely risky; and the effects shouldn’t make the character look like an idiot, but highlight the limitations of the weapon or the setting instead.

For example, a longsword needs space to be effective. In a cramped tunnel it still works (you can use half-swording, etc.), but it’s suboptimal; that could cause the fumble. You could even build a table of things that might go wrong on a natural 1, but only if it makes sense in context. If there’s no additional danger, then nothing funny happens.

Another option is to give the enemy an opportunity to strike with an advantage; maybe you overextend, make a reckless swing, and miss, opening yourself up to a counterattack. That way the focus isn’t on your “stupid mistake,” but on the danger you’ve exposed yourself to.

Let's try to combine both ideas. Here is how an actual rule I might use would look like:

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When you roll a natural 1 on an attack, it is always an automatic miss. In addition, it can cause serious consequences if you’re in a risky situation:

• Close allies: If an ally is too close to your target (e.g., shooting into melee or attacking a grappled foe), roll again to see if you hit your ally.

• Tight spaces: If the area is too cramped for your weapon, you strike a wall and take a –4 penalty on your next attack with that weapon.

• Flails and chains: If you’re using a flail, roll again to see if you hit yourself (half damage).

• Fragile weapons: If you’re using a low-quality weapon or one unsuited to the target (e.g., a common blade against a stone creature), your weapon may break or lose its edge (–1 damage until repaired).

• Dangerous stunts: If you’re attempting a dangerous stunt, such as jumping form a higher point etc., you failed catastrophically. Fall prone, take damage, save for half.

• In all cases: You lose your footing, expose yourself, and take –2 AC until the start of your next turn, unless you spend an attack to regain balance.

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By the way, this is the best rule I have for "shooting into melee". Being  a good archer improves your chance to hit an ally close to targe (an incompetent archer is more likely to miss both entirely), and this also takes into account your ally's armor.

It is time to ditch the "good GM"

The myth of the "good GM is required to play" is an old tale in our hobby. I thought the myth had been laid to rest, but it is often raised from the dead with talks of "elite GMs" that know all the rules by heart, or "great GMs" that are skilled voice actors or that have amazing improv skills.

It is time to ditch this idea. In fact, it’s long overdue.

The "good DM" was often used as an excuse for “difficult” games: “this confusing game is great, it just requires a good GM to function.” Or, more neutrally, as a warning: “this game is good BUT it requires a good GM to run.” For me, it should be used as outright criticism: “this game is not easy to use, and it requires a GM that is above average to make it work.”

There is no objective way to measure or evaluate the quality of GMs, and no serious research exists AFAICT. People who usually talk about “good GMs” are often just talking about themselves in a display of arrogance and bravado.

Until we have objective evaluation, we can imagine that GMs divide into good, bad, and average, with the majority (around 68%) sitting in the middle of a normal curve. If you’ve read the DMG or know basic statistics, you understand this.

Imagine rolling 3d6 for your GM skill as a "prime requisite": requiring a result above “average,” say 13–14, would exclude most people unnecessarily from the “class” of GM.

A good RPG should be good for most players and GMs, except when you’re deliberately making niche content.

In short: most GMs are mid, great GMs are rare, and that’s fine. A game that is only viable or fun for the highly skilled is doomed to fail; even chess, poker, or football can be fun for beginners.

Great creativity, memory, improv skills, mastery of 200 pages of rules, and vast literary knowledge are wonderful things to have, but they shouldn’t be required to run a good game.

In fact, we all remember the time (often as kids or teens) when we barely understood the rules, had never read any RPG theory, and still managed to have memorable adventures. RPGs should be fun for the averages and even below-average, not only the self-professed “elites.”

In addition, RPGs should help me run a game, not force me to fight the system in order to make it work.

That’s why I try to create good tables and tools, so you (or, frankly, I) don’t need to be an awesome GM to make something great with them. I don’t want to put all the burden of creation on your shoulders if you’re using my games; in fact, I want to save you as much work as I can.

[Here is one example. My goal with the setting is not to require you to read Edgar Rice Burroughs, Clark Ashton Smith, Lovecraft, or Roadside Picnic in order to enjoy it, even if I would recommend you do. The idea is that you can get the same feel I enjoy simply by rolling the tables as written, without needing to construct it all yourself].

One of the happiest feelings I have after creating random tables is rolling, combining and realizing the combinations instantly generate cool ideas I hadn't considered. In other words, not because I thought of something cool, but because I found something I hadn’t thought.

Likewise, when I’m running (or writing) a module, I want things to be simple and clearly spelled out. I don’t want to be unexpectedly forced to train my creativity or improv skills. My focus should be on running the game and responding to the players’ choices—not wrestling with the text.

In conclusion: 

By all means, read all the rules, memorize (or even tinker with) the most important ones; dive into Appendix N books if you want (you know I do); learn how statistics work; try improv; make voices; crack jokes; write your own adventures, and tweak or complete existing ones. 

These are all useful, fun skills, and they will make you a better GM and a better player. But they are absolutely not required to play RPGs.