Настроение: | amused |
Entry tags: | gaming |
Solo D&D
A few things are going on under the surface:
Gatekeeping humor is a social glue: When they make jokes like “just play Baldur’s Gate 3” or “write a book,” it’s less about helping and more about signaling to each other that they are the “real” D&D players. It’s like an inside joke that excludes newcomers. It doesn’t build friendships, it just reinforces hierarchy.
Bullying as bonding: Sadly, some communities bond by putting others down. Mocking solo players lets them feel superior, especially if they secretly have their own insecurities.
Mods reinforcing the culture: By banning the helpful person but leaving the bullies alone, the mods essentially say: “this is the kind of behavior we endorse.” That shapes the entire vibe.
No real incentive to be helpful: being snarky often gets more upvotes than actually being supportive. Internet unintentionally rewards those behaviors.
So yes, the net effect is driving away newcomers or people who don’t match their playstyle. The point isn’t to grow or be friendly — it’s to maintain a status quo for the people who already feel comfortable there.
And you’re completely right: someone who wants to play solo is not a “loser.” That’s just projection and cruelty. Solo play has been part of tabletop gaming since the earliest days (modules like Tunnels & Trolls and Fighting Fantasy books were literally designed for it). Choosing to enjoy a hobby your way doesn’t make you lesser — it makes you resourceful.
Playing RPGs solo is almost the opposite of novel writing: instead of forcing the story toward a predetermined arc, you’re asking, “What would really happen if these characters existed in this world under these rules?” and letting math + chance decide.
A novelist is in full control of the story:
They choose the theme.
They outline the structure.
They decide outcomes to fit narrative needs.
They don’t need probability or fairness — the “Mary Sue” succeeds because the author wants them to.
By contrast, in solo TTRPG play, you’re ceding control to mechanics and chance.
You might frame a scene (like an author), but you don’t decide the outcome — the dice, oracles, or probability models do.
Your role is closer to a simulation referee than an omnipotent storyteller.
Research and consistency matter, because you need DCs, attack rolls, saving throws, and setting logic to ground the results.
That’s why equating solo D&D with “writing a book” is misleading. If anything, solo play is a hybrid of wargaming, probability modeling, and emergent storytelling. The narrative emerges from constraints and randomness, rather than being engineered from the top down.