When Yer Prep Feels Pointless ‘Cause Players Go Sideways

Oct 7

Mike’s Take

BY GRABGAR’S HAMMER, YA PREP-OBSESSED GNOME-HUGGIN’ BOOKKEEPERS DRIVE ME MAD.
Ye spend twelve hours drawin’ maps, statin’ monsters, and writin’ dialogue fit fer a bard’s funeral — then the party ignores it all ‘cause some fool wanted to chase a goat in the village square. Welcome to the real job, lad. Yer prep ain’t scripture, it’s scaffolding. Players’ll kick it down the moment it suits ‘em. If yer beard can’t handle that, maybe go knit instead.

Now, I ain’t sayin’ prep’s useless. Nay, ye need bones fer the meat. But it’s point-form bones: characters, locations, stakes. Then when yer party decides the barkeep’s spoon is the campaign’s MacGuffin, ye can slap those bones in a new coat and carry on. Flexibility, lad. That’s the ale that keeps a table standin’.

Don’t Waste Yer Nights, Lad

👉 If yer prep feels pointless ‘cause players won’t follow the rails, lean into it. Mike’s Tavern is stocked with GM Wisdom guides, Tavern Etiquette lessons, and gear from the Tavern Armory that’ll turn chaos into craft.

How to Balance Prep and Improvisation

Here’s the trick most greenhorn GMs miss: prep optional, improv essential. Ye prep in points — not novels. NPC motives, a few tasty lines o’ dialogue, and a handful o’ locations. All of it is movable. If they skip yer dungeon, fine, drop the cultists into the next tavern they stumble through. Players’ll think ye planned it that way.

And when the table splits in three directions? Ye need tavern politics in yer toolkit. If mismatched play styles keep gnawin’ at yer game, face it head-on. Sometimes that means two separate tables, sometimes it means sendin’ the spotlight hog down a side quest so the shy one gets a chance. Learn when to bend and when to snap the chalk in half.

Ye can juice combat too. Pathfinder 2e and D&D 5e both drag their heels if ye let ‘em. So switch terrain mid-fight. Toss in environmental hazards. Or drag a fearsome relic onto the field so the players slow down and savor the moment instead o’ yawning through initiative.

If ye’ve got a creative player who wrecks yer plans, don’t squash ‘em. That brilliance is worth ten pages of boxed text. Same with atmosphere — if ye ain’t got minis, use sound, voices, and a bit of tavern fog. Theater of the mind beats cardboard any day. And when burnout creeps in? Let the players swap behind the screen fer a session. Keeps the fire lit without burnin’ yer beard off.

For the truly dire moments — when some milk-drinker brings up somethin’ uncomfortable at the table — yer job’s simple: shut it down fast, then hand it off gently. Social leadership ain’t optional. If ye can’t swing the hammer, lean on a player who can. The game matters less than the people. Always.

So aye, prep yer bones. But never carve ‘em in stone. The best campaigns are built on flex, not fragile perfection.

Don’t Let Yer Table Rot in Routine

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