That Grudge Yer Clingin’ To? It’s Ruinin’ the Game — Let It Go, Lad.
Mike’s Opening Rant: You’re Not “Keeping It Civil,” Yer Just Smilin’ Through Grit Teeth
Had a player once — never raised his voice, never threw a die. But you could feel it. Cold eyes. Short words. Arms crossed tighter every week. What happened? Some petty squabble four sessions ago where the druid used his potion.
Four. Sessions. Ago.
Another lad wouldn’t talk to the ranger because of a misfired arrow. Another kept votin’ against the bard just ‘cause of one joke made in session one.
AND THEN THEY SAY “IT’S FINE, I’M OVER IT.” LAD, IF YA WERE OVER IT, YA WOULDN’T BE LOOKIN’ AT HIM LIKE HE STOLE YER ALE AND INSULTED YER MOTHER!!
A Grudge Is a Poison — and Yer Drinkin’ It Alone
👉 Mike’s Tavern don’t run on secret rage. Learn to air things out, forgive fast, and get back to the story. See more in Tavern Etiquette or the wiser sorts in Player Builds & NPCs.
You Think Yer Hiding It — You’re Not
Grudges leak. Into yer tone. Yer rolls. Yer “in-character” decisions. Before long, everyone else is walkin’ on eggshells, and the game feels like a chore.
What starts as:
Quiet resentment
Passive-aggressive actions
“In-character” sabotage
...ends up stallin’ plots, wreckin’ bonds, and drivin’ good players away.
You think you’re makin’ a point. What you’re makin’ is a mess.
Don’t Drink Poison and Call It Justice. It Ain’t Worth It, Lad.
It’s like diggin’ yer own grave and hopin’ they fall into it. Or drinkin’ poison meant for someone else and expectin’ them to keel over. It’s self-harm at best, self-destruction at worst. And it don’t just hurt ya; it slows the party, poisons the fun, and turns story into sludge. It just ain’t worth doin’, laddie.
Letting Go Ain’t Weakness — It’s How Stories Survive
You wanna be strong? Then learn to let go. Not because the other player was right. Not because what happened didn’t suck.
But because you deserve peace.
And the table deserves a player who’s playin’ — not quietly fumin’.
See the difference between:
Captain Nail, the Law in Broken Armor — holds grudges where it fits, but never breaks the table.
The Tiefling Who Was Never Really There — hurts, but heals.
The Goblin Cleric Who Hates Healing (But Does It Anyway) — gets annoyed, forgives anyway.
They stay in the story. Not in the past.
How to Let Go Without Bein’ a Doormat
Letting go don’t mean pretendin’ nothin’ happened.
Acknowledge it.
Address it — outside the game.
Set a boundary if needed.
But once it’s spoken and sorted? Let it go. Stop replayin’ it. Stop seekin’ revenge in subtle turns. Stop ruinin’ the fun for everyone else just so you can feel “right.”
There’s no XP for grudge-holdin’. But there’s a hell of a reward for movin’ on.
FAQ
Q: What if I still feel angry?
A: That’s fine. But deal with it outside the session. Don’t poison the game.
Q: What if they never apologized?
A: Then decide what you need — not what you expect. Forgiveness is for you, not them.
Q: What if it keeps happening?
A: Then it ain’t a grudge. It’s a pattern. Talk to the GM. Solve it properly.
Let Go, or Get Left Behind
👉 Mike’s Tavern ain’t for festering wounds. It’s for stories that move, heal, and grow. Hold grudges if ya must — but don’t expect ‘em to carry ya forward. Player Tips | Talk to Mike
