Rules of Dungeoncraft

First Rule

Never force yourself to create more than you must.
Write this rule on the inside cover of your Dungeon Master Guide. Failure to obey the First Rule has been the downfall of too many campaigns. You shouldn't feel compelled to create more information or detail than you'll need to conduct the next couple of game sessions. When some DMs sit down to create a new campaign, they are strongly tempted to draw dozens of maps, create hundreds of NPCs, and write histories of the campaign world stretching back thousands of years. While having this sort of information at your disposal can't hurt, it probably won't help-not for a long time yet. Spending lots of time on extraneous details now only slows you down, perhaps to the point where you lose interest in the game before it starts. For now, the goal is to figure out exactly what information you'll need to conduct your first few game sessions. You can fill in the holes later, as it becomes necessary. This approach not only gets you up and playing as quickly as possible but also keeps your options open and allows you to tailor the campaign around the input of the players and the outcome of their adventures. In this spirit, you should aim to start your campaign as soon as you can, while doing as little preliminary design as possible.

Second Rule

Whenever you fill in a major piece of the campaign world, always devise at least one secret related to that piece.
Now that I've created some important details about the campaign world, the Second Rule compels me to invent an appropriate secret based on these details. Looking back over last month's column gives me an interesting idea. Suppose that a fairly sizable cluster of the woods surrounding the stronghold is actually comprised of an army of elderly treants whom the plant goddess has ordered to take root and guard a sacred spot located near the hold. From time to time, some of these treants wander a bit, shifting the course of several of the minor paths that crisscross the area. Of course, only the most skilled foresters understand that the paths actually move; most people who try to negotiate the area simply believe the paths are unbelievably confusing. Let's further suppose that according to local legends, several decades ago, a great general was somehow able to bypass the stronghold (which was once originally held by one of the orc tribes) to launch a surprise attack into the black woods. No one knows how he could have accomplished this feat, so most people don't believe in the legend. But the legend is true. The general skirted the stronghold by discovering the secret of the treants and convincing enough of them to move aside to form a second path through the forest large enough to accommodate an army. This secret has several interesting opportunities for future adventures: the PCs can discover the secret of the treants, they can discover exactly what the goddess has deployed the treants to protect, and-if the stronghold is ever temporarily captured by the orcs-they might duplicate the general's legendary feat to reclaim it.
Finally, turning my attention to politics on the national level, I've decided the nation that maintains the stronghold is a feudal monarchy. Its interesting fact is that its kings, on their fortieth birthday, have always been known to bid their friends and family farewell and venture into the black woods alone, never to return. No one knows why they observe this ritual. Obviously, a future adventure might give the PCs an opportunity to get to the bottom of this mystery. In accordance with the Second Rule, I've decided that the ritual has something to do with a price the royal family agreed to pay to forestall some terrible calamity, though I'm not going to develop it any further at this point.

Third Rule

Whenever you have no idea what the probability of success should be for a particular situation, consider it 50%.
Note: The Third Rule of Dungeoncraft is a useful tool for keeping the game moving, not a replacement for your own good judgment and knowledge of the rules. Use it wisely!
The Heart of the New Edition:
Do the characters efforts succeed? The old rules provided no real guidance for resolution, forcing the DM to improvise. It was situations like these that inspired the Third Rule of Dungeoncraft.
The new rules adopt an entirely different philosophy and attempt to provide a much more comprehensive set of guidelines for resolving a wide variety of actions and situations. The best illustration of this philosophy is the interlocking series of ability and skill checks that can be used to resolve just about anything a player might attempt.

Fourth Rule

Always challenge both the players and their characters.
This rule means that a good adventure works on two levels. On the first, it poses a challenge to the players-it makes them think carefully and causes them to wonder for just a brief moment whether they are truly up to the task of overcoming its many obstacles. Once complete, great adventures provide the players with the same satisfaction they might receive upon finally completing a challenging level of a video game. This sense of satisfaction arises from the players' perception that it was their own skillful maneuvering and decision-making that led to success, not mere random luck or charity on your part. Balancing adventures so they challenge the players without overcomplicating the situation or causing confusion is one of the trickiest parts of adventure design.
On the second level, good adventures always provide a challenge for the players' characters. In general, this means that you give the heroes opportunities to use their powers, proficiencies, and abilities. After all, it's no fun owning a vorpal blade if you never get to use it. For many players, part of the attraction of the AD&D game is that it allows them to play the roles of brave adventurers who can accomplish almost superhuman feats. To satisfy these players, you must give them a chance to flex their characters' muscles. In much the same way that you strive to balance the adventures to the players' capabilities, you must also balance the adventures to the capabilities of their characters. If the feats of derring-do you ask them to attempt are too easy-say, a high-level party pitted against an inconsequential goblin tribe-they'll soon become bored. On the other hand, if the obstacles you place in their path are obviously well beyond the PCs' capabilities, the players will soon become frustrated. Fortunately, this part isn't as hard as it might sound. While balancing an adventure to challenge the characters isn't as simple as falling off a log, it's usually much easier to accomplish than properly testing the players.

Fifth Rule

Once a roll has been made and you've moved on, you should never reset events to an earlier state in order to correct a mistake.
Doing so can only interrupt the game's momentum and runs the risk of confusing your players. If you need to rationalize such a decision, put it down to fickle fate -- a lucky (or unlucky) break caused by potent karma or the intervention of capricious gods. After all, in the real world unusual and unexplainable things happen all the time. In fact, you might even use a particularly significant gaffe as a springboard for an adventure that explains the error.
Of course, the Fifth Rule doesn't imply that you should never accept a player's advice on how to resolve a situation or refuse to acknowledge any forgotten modifiers pointed out by the players before the dice are rolled. The fact that you can count on your players to be on the lookout for modifiers you've forgotten is one of the reasons why it's easier to keep track of the new rules than it might seem. Once a situation has been resolved and play has moved on, though, all outcomes should be considered final. Although some players might find this stance a bit difficult to deal with at first, they'll quickly get used to it as long as you're consistent.