Fudging dice—a gentle way to say lying about die results—comes from good intentions. People ignore the dice out of empathy or desire to push the story in a certain direction. However, letting the dice decide isn’t really the issue—it’s how we are interpreting them.
Letting the Dice Decide
In 1971, the author George Cockcroft, known by the pen name Luke Rhinehart, created a character called The Dice Man; he was the main character in a series of novels revolving around the same name.
"THE DICE MAN" SPOILERS AHEAD
In the beginning of the first book, the main character believes he has a eureka moment when he decides to let a die-roll guide his next life choice.
He feels a range of emotions about this, but one strongest of all: freedom. There's an incredible happiness at this freedom from responsibility, and he lets dice rolls decide every course of action from then on. No fudging!
The protagonist gives himself completely to this new way of life. In a television interview in which he was meant to defend this new way of life, the dice ruled he must sit there and be unresponsive; and he followed their command without regret.
No Responsibilities, No Worries?
Halfway through the story, as the book becomes more and more satirical, the police arrest him for the suspected murder of a neighbour. However, the agents release him because his actions and responses are so unreliable; law can’t be applied to him.
Soon, cults and communes are appearing all over the United States; people everywhere are falling in love with this freedom from choice and responsibility the Dice Man lives by—a hero for our time.
The Lie in Blaming the Dice
The thing is, he did murder that neighbour and he was fully in control of his actions. In his own mind, though, he is free from guilt because the dice had decided.
He thought that committing to this way of life meant that every action had to be a possibility, even the worst of the worst. But, he was only doing what the dice had chosen. He was just an obedient follower.
The Dice Are Never in Control
This is, very obviously, wrong. The character is ignoring the fact he chose who to murder and when it was an option on the dice. But most significantly, he decided murder was an outcome at all.
Dice are just numbers (or symbols, for Fantasy Flight Games folk out there). The Dice Man, like the gamemaster (GM), chooses what those values mean every time they roll.
Interpreting Dice That Don't Know Nice
Notre Dungeons and Dragons heroine stands over the unconscious bodies of her friends. Towering above her is the story’s Big Bad, laughing with axe raised and ready to strike. The villain is bleeding badly, but so is our player character (PC). It’s been a long fight and all of her resources are spent; she has one chance to strike before the axe falls.
The player rolls their dice, and rolls low. Really low. In fact, it’s a disaster—everything misses. And that’s it; their turn is over. The GM tries to narrate the heroine bravely swinging her sword at the enemy, but the players at the table look gloomy. There is not much hope now, just a fool’s hope.
Gandalf, look away.
The GM rolls; it’s nothing special, but it’s enough. Down comes the axe and the total party kill (TPK) is complete. It’s the end of the chapter for this narrative—but not necessarily the whole story!
Stop
If the group rewinds a bit, are there other options?
One possibility is to continue—the group follows the guidelines in the rulebook when interpreting the dice without concern. Players roll new characters, ones tasked with getting revenge for the Big Bad’s victory, or ones who have to deal with its consequences.
Alternatively, the Big Bad knocks out the heroine and throws the party into a dungeon to laugh in their faces... but by doing so gives them a chance to escape.
GM fiat could interrupt the villain with an event so important, it breaks them out of their bloodlust. Consequently, they choose to deal with these adventurers later. This isn’t always possible depending on the campaign, but "The enemy of my enemy..." works great here.
One more option is to start a new game. The fantastic thing about this hobby is we never have to stop rolling.
Another is to replay the fight. Especially in cases where the GM made a massive miscalculation on how powerful the Big Bad was, or the players tried something crazy and “Yes, and” or “No, but” didn’t end well at all.
Then of course there is fudging (if the GM is hiding their rolls). Perhaps the GM looked at their dice, looked at the faces of their players, and then makes a decision—they pretend to miss.
Why People Fudge
GMs often fudge to protect their players or to protect themselves.
Perhaps someone at the table has had an awful week at work, and the GM doesn’t want to make things worse. Maybe someone has been rolling badly all night and isn’t handling it well.
Or, from the GM’s side, they massively underestimated the Big Bad’s power levels or didn’t foreshadow well enough, and are now looking for a way to recover. Maybe it’s just that it’s the final fight of a long campaign and everyone wants it to end “right”—the good guys have to beat the bad guys, right? Right?!
Some tables will be fine with fudging, and to each their own. Ultimately, fun is the goal of the game—decide what works best for the table.
One Problem with Fudging
However, people like rules because of consistency, and consistency builds trust. If the group has been together long enough and they have other sources of trust then this is less of a problem.
People also love rolling dice (and using cards, Savage Worlds and its awesome subsystem Deadlands especially say hi). It’s not just the feel of throwing down these chunks of plastic; they increase tension because they are out of our control. The Dice Man cometh, Sander baby.
The excitement of what is going to happen next is what keeps many people coming back for a game. Otherwise, it’s just sitting around telling each other bits of story—not a bad activity, but moving far away from what many people look for in a tabletop game.
Fudging Is Trying to Fix a Feature of the Hobby
Fudging is one answer to the fact these compelling tools of randomness don’t care about human feelings. They have no concern for real life problems and they definitely don’t worry if a story is going the “right” way.
As a side note, fudging dice to make the story go the “right” way is railroading by another name—it's just ignoring the dice, not the players.
A Better Approach?
There is another alternative to all of the above: change the interpretation of the results.
Is this similar to fudging? Absolutely—but there is one very major difference. While both try to protect the people at the table, or help a heroic story finish heroically, cost can be built in, and so the dice stay meaningful.
Interpreting the Dice Differently
Change the question from “Will the action succeed?” to “What will the action’s success cost on a fail?”
Recalling our player’s fearless heroine, she is last warrior standing, her friends unconscious by her feet. The player rolls, and the PC screams a war cry of desperation and determination, swinging her blade at the badly wounded Final Boss (cue music).
She misses badly. Everybody knows the villain will strike next, and barring a miracle, will strike hard. The player looks at the GM, and the GM gives three choices:
1) The player accepts the risk and let’s the GM roll as normal, hope versus fate.
2) The warrior thrusts her blade into the thing’s chest, but is too slow to stop the villain’s axe slamming into one of the unconscious companions.
(If no NPC is available, a PC could volunteer by gaining consciousness and throwing themselves in danger’s way.)
Or 3) The warrior thrusts her blade into the thing’s chest, but in doing so leaves her defences wide open and the villain slams its axe into her fatally at the same time.
This keeps player agency king, and the GM keeps their dice rolls meaningful. By interpreting the dice this way, the attack roll is no longer a simple (and unepic) hit/miss. It lets the player fail forwards.
If the player chooses the last option, the companions will awaken to find the Big Bad defeated, and their heroine dying. Healing cannot save her—nothing should cheapen the decision. However, she has enough life in her to tell what happened and anything else she chooses.
Parting is such sweet sorrow,
That I shall say good night
Till it be morrow.
Interpreting the Dice for a Better Game
How a group interprets dice rolls will decide how epic their stories will be. The Dice Man was wrong—dice are not gods. Stay true to the rolls, respect their values, but it’s the group that are always (mostly!) in control.
As a final note, if people at the table are feeling low emotionally, a time-out might be best. However, if they still want to play, consider a one-shot that is ready to roll within five to ten minutes. Systems like Cairn, Hollowpoint, or Honey Heist are great for this.
Not only are these awesome systems, but they have a greater chance of brightening people’s mood. They are a much better alternative to forcing the main campaign and spoiling trust at the table.
Interpreting the Dice Differently for a Better Game
Fudging dice is understandable, but there are better ways to keep the player's agency and the dice meaningful while maintaining the narrative’s direction and being mindful of the other humans at the table.
Changing how the table interprets the dice—success, but at what cost—is a much cooler way to handle failed dice rolls than faking it. The table are in control. Give it a try and have fun!
Good luck!
