There’s no shortage of ‘tips’ and ‘rules’ for Dungeon Masters (DMs) or Game Masters (GMs). From YouTube to official material, everyone has their lists of “musts” and “nevers” for running a good tabletop role playing game (TTRPG). Yet, these resources rarely delve into the how of running a game. Chapters One and Two in the new 2024 Dungeon Master Guide (5.24 DMG) lay a solid foundation for teaching the basics of DMing D&D. There are steps for running a session and key concept definitions that every DM should know. While the DMG lays a solid foundation, I designed this guide to dive deeper into the concepts important to help both D&D Dungeon Masters and Game Masters of any TTRPG. Whether you’re a new DM or looking to deepen your skills, this guide offers specific tools, real-world examples, and personal insights to help you confidently bring your table to life.

Running games is absolutely a personal experience. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to have someone able to spend time teaching you. I learned from Brian, my GM Yoda—an incredible mentor who guided me through mastering my first TTRPG and directly influenced my early years and style as a Game Master—and I’m excited to share some of those lessons and ones I’ve developed from years of running games.

How do I Start Being a Dungeon Master?

Just do the thing. I know, I know. That’s a really annoying answer that I hate/love. Unfortunately, it’s true. At some point you have to just grab your dice and commit.

Keep it simple. Everyone learns how to walk before they run. There is nothing wrong with building your own world or adventure right off the bat, you don’t have to though. Start with a written adventure, like Intro to Stormwreck Isle or my adventure So you Want to be a Goblin. These adventures are designed to guide you, and they include everything you need: maps, encounters, and a basic story, mine even comes with pre-generated characters. If you want your own world, both these adventures can be easily modified to fit almost any location. Best of all you get a feel and structural concept of how a good adventure is built. Once you have that base, you can try to build your own if you want.

Once you find your footing, you’ll start to develop your own style, adding to the incredible variety of ways games are run. A crucial contributor to the diversity of TTRPGs is the variety of styles we DMs and GMs have in running the games. Each of us honed our own styles, mastered specific systems, or embraced particular IPs. We used the skills we learned to entertain and teach our players, encouraging the hobby to grow. Now, there are many TTRPGs and so many ways to run a game depending on the place and group. We have Cons, and Streams, and Luxury Events, because different Dungeon Masters just did it and learned their way. At some point you have to be like Zhu Li and “Do the thing!”

Rules & Sheets

It’s okay to lean on the rules. The game exists because of them. They create balance and help you present a consistent story to the players. Adjudicating the rules is a main job of a DM, except you don’t need to have them memorised to start—the more you play, the more you’ll remember. The D&D Free Rules (2024) cover the basics. If something comes up during the game that you’re unsure about, it’s perfectly fine to make a quick ruling on the spot. Keep the game moving using concepts like advantage/disadvantage or a simple +/-2 adjustment in most TTRPG. Afterward look up the official rule and at the start of the next session explain what you found to the players, so everyone is clear moving forward. If you’re ever stuck with a more complex situation there is nothing wrong with using Google to search for an answer, I still do that.

[Playing online? The free set is available on Roll20, my virtual tabletop of choice.]

The Tracking Sheets are handy to help you as your game grows, just don’t get trapped in paperwork. Keeping track of character goals and NPCs is part of being a good DM. When you’re starting out—especially for a one-shot—that’s a lot to manage while running the game. Instead have a notepad handy. Jot down quick notes about NPCs they name, a city they invent, or a question they ask that you hadn’t considered. These notes will offer you hooks or fuel for other games and as your story gets bigger the other tracking sheets will start to become more useful. Also, the players will remember different things you might totally forget, it’s ok to rely on them as well.

Narration

Next, think of your Dungeon Master role as director, you’re creating an outline and the stage. You don’t have to know how the lines to the play or every direction the play will take—these are the player’s job. You know the outline to the story: the start, climax, and an end. You provide the world to the players and have it react to what their characters do. Imagine you’re describing a movie scene: “The tavern is dimly lit, and the air smells like spilled ale. You hear a bard tuning their lute in the corner. You see a table open that will seat all of you. What do you do?”

I admit it, I actually hate “What do you do?” I have caught myself saying it more lately, and I am a little annoyed with myself. It puts too much demand on the player who has limited context. A better practice is, ask questions that lead or guide the players into taking actions with their characters.

Instead try, “The tavern is dimly lit, the air holds the musk of spilled ale, and a bard tunes a lute in the corner. The waiter recommends the large open table with enough space for your group. The bard finishes tuning and asks what song they should play.” or “…the bard asks your bard/performer to join them on stage.” This change uses the narration to progress the story without taking away agency. Be the characters’ guide—nudging them along, throwing in challenges, and letting the story unfold.

Improvement Over Perfection

Don’t worry about being perfect. Your players are there to have fun with you, not to nitpick. Even experienced DMs make mistakes all the time—it’s part of the game. Just focus on enjoying the story, and your players will, too.

How do I build an encounter?

Any scene where the characters are faced with a challenge or choice where the outcome or consequences can affect the story’s outcome. It doesn’t have to be world changing, or even combat—puzzles, social intrigue, even a tense chase through the marketplace all count. The free rules have a solid intro to encounter building that I recommend you look at and use. We’re going to go a bit deeper.

Where do they come from?

Encounters are inspired from an, “oh that’s cool!” moment from a book I read, a movie I saw, or even history or a joke. Anything that makes you think, “Can I turn this into something interactive for my players?” Interactive is the key term here. Their characters have to be able to interact with the scene. A lone-wolf scene is harder to make into an encounter for a party, while The Expendables movie has many possibilities.

Imagine you’re inspired by the Trojan Horse. You could use the classic tale directly in your adventure. Sometimes the obvious choice is the most fun because players will recognize it, even if their characters don’t, forcing them to navigate the Meta—a player using knowledge outside of the game’s fictional universe to influence the game. Better yet, flip the script. Most players know the Trojan Horse trope, so build an encounter that subverts their expectations. Maybe the statue is presented as a gift to a lord, built from his favorite vessel or hunting lodge, regifted as an insult to throw him off balance. Perhaps, the Trojan Horse has nothing inside it at all, leaving the characters to unravel its purpose.

You can see how this encounter can go in several directions. The characters might detect its danger during a festival (social), disarm its traps (puzzle), or deal with an ambush when it opens (combat). One spark of inspiration can lead to multiple types of encounters. Weaving these threads together creates dynamic adventures that can unfold over one or multiple sessions.

“Why” and “Therefore” never “and Then”

One encounter does not make an adventure (usually). You want a series of 3-6 encounters connected by consequence. This series forms an adventure. When building an encounter, ask yourself: Why is this happening? What are the consequences?

Great encounters build story momentum and tension based on everything else that has happened previously, not because the Dungeon Master needs it to or demands it. Avoid stringing encounters together with “and then” (this happens, and then this happens, and then this happens). That creates a flat, directionless story. Instead, you’re creating an interactive story world by focusing on the concepts ‘therefore’ or ‘because of this.’ Answering encounters with Therefore or Because of this, helps build a story in which the events taking place are reacting to each other, not simply one-after-the-other. 

Imagine an assassin strikes during a royal banquet, and the characters leap into action. What are the ripple effects if they succeed? What happens if they fail?

• The assassin is stopped therefore the crown is grateful to the characters. Because of this the antagonist has to find another way to destabilize the crown.
• The assassin succeeds therefore the antagonist gains power. Because of this the characters are blamed responsible.

The goal isn’t to predict every character decision. That’s impossible unless you’re authoring the novel. Instead, craft outcomes that ripple through the story, allowing the character’s actions to shape the world dynamically.

How Many Encounters?

I find for a single session 3-6 encounters is usually enough to fill a 3-4 hour game, leaving room for player interaction and improvisation. Having an encounter ready does not mean it has to happen. They’re tools that you now have ready to pull out depending on the character actions or repurpose in a later adventure.

• A tense negotiation (social – this could be with dice rolls or role-play, it is a role playing game, not a roll playing game).
• A trap-filled corridor (puzzle again, could be solved with dice or by giving the players a physical version of the puzzle representing what the characters are experiencing).
• A fight against mercenaries (combat).
• A high-speed chase through the city (chase).

Always Consequences, Never Punishments.

The ‘Dungeon Master vs. Players’ mindset is outdated. As a DM, your role is to craft an engaging world for everyone to enjoy, not punishing characters for their actions. The best adventures and campaigns are those where the world reacts to the characters’ actions, or inaction, without being punitive.

Continuing the assassin example, if the characters know about the attempt and choose to ignore it, their decision should ripple through the story with logical consequences. Perhaps the court sees them as traitors and places a bounty on their heads. Perhaps the antagonist offers them work or considers them a bigger threat because they appear confident enough to ignore his schemes. Consequences like these keep the story engaging.

What you don’t want to do is punish the players with random, unjustified events like having cows fall from the sky, or the gods smiting them for ignoring your plot hook. That doesn’t encourage creativity or collaboration; it just frustrates the table. However, a paladin failing to stop the assassination might face repercussions from their deity, within their order, or their own moral struggle. Now response is a meaningful consequence that adds depth to the narrative.

Remember, encounters exist to progress the story forward. If the plot is on the other side of a locked door, ensure it can be opened to keep the plot moving forward. Maybe the rogue rolls low and their tool set breaks, or they take damage, they still get the door open. No rogue or thieves’ tools? In that case there is a bench they can bash it down with, or a nearby guard carries a key, or the wizard can cast Knock. Don’t block the plot behind an impassable door—it defeats the purpose of playing.

Practice and Flexibility

There is no one-size-fits-all method to encounter building. You’ll have brilliant successes, forgettable duds, and the occasional turd. The more games you run, the more practice you’ll get, and the more you’ll learn what works for you with the characters while getting better at building for them. Be ready to take a flubbed roll or a poor choice and make moments that shine. Start small, experiment with several types of encounters, and watch your toolbox of ideas grow with each game.

How do I keep my players engaged?

Engaging players goes beyond action-packed battles or dramatic twists, it’s about encouraging moments they care about throughout the game. Sometimes that is a high-stakes battle. Others, it’s a quiet conversation with an NPC they’ve grown attached to. Keeping engagement as a DM is like poker—success comes from reading the table as much as playing the cards. Pay attention to what excites your players and lean into those moments. If they’re laughing at something in-game, having a blast shopping, or are enjoying spending an hour interrogating a random guard, that’s engagement! Don’t fight it—let the hand ride. Adapt the ‘Therefore’ or ‘Because of this’ of the next encounter to build on what they’re enjoying.

Another good trick is to ask yourself, “Does every player have something to do right now?”  Some players really enjoy being at the table with the action swirling around them. If you notice one or two people sitting quietly for too long, a simple nudge like, ‘What’s your character doing?’ can reconnect quiet players to the scene. For those who prefer to stay in the background, ask discreetly to avoid drawing unwanted attention. If the whole table seems disengaged, though, it might be time to adjust your pacing.

Pacing

Good stories ebb and flow naturally, and lulls are perfectly fine. Some movies breeze by, while others feel far longer than they are. Pacing isn’t about rushing the story; it’s about keeping the game moving while allowing players room to breathe. You want your game to be naturally engaging without dragging. However, long stretches of quiet can lead to disengagement, so keep an eye out for signs like players checking their phones or starting side conversations are good signs to shake things up. It doesn’t take much to redirect or refocus the group’s attention. Maybe the bartender reveals they’ve been eavesdropping, a character hears a sudden noise outside, or something triggers a spotlight on a character’s background.

This is a hard thing to do. Especially when you get embroiled in your own adventure and the story. Like everything in this post, the more you run games, the more you will figure this out for yourself. Be gentle.

Spotlighting

Spotlighting, like in theatre or concerts, is where different scenes highlight different performers. In TTRPGs they range from tight and focused on one character to broad and focused on many. Every player wants their character to feel like they matter, your job is to make sure everyone gets their moment. 

Sharing the spotlight doesn’t mean literally setting a timer so you’re giving everyone the same amount of time in every scene. It means, over the course of a session, learning to make sure everyone has a chance to shine. In most player groups there will be one that is continually active and one that is less so. If you’re feeling someone might be in a background a lot you might ask something like, “Your character’s got experience in this area, would they like to jump in or are they content waiting to see what will happen first?” That kind of nudge can make a huge difference.

Engagement is about making your players feel seen and heard. Pay attention to what makes your players light up, and don’t be afraid to adjust. This connection will help the pacing of your sessions. Listen, learn, and lean into the moments that bring your table to life. If they’re having fun, you’re doing your job.

How do I Handle Character Decisions?

This is a big question without a fast answer. Handling character decisions requires a balance between encouraging creativity and maintaining the story’s structure. Tools like ‘yes-and,’ saying ‘no,’ the rule of cool, and failing forward can help a DM navigate these moments.

Yes-and

Yes-and comes from improv, where scene partners build on each other’s ideas by accepting them as truth. In TTRPGs yes-and can enhance an experience and foster creativity while keeping the story flowing. A Dungeon Master should never feel pressured into a blind yes-and. Learning its best-use balance for your game is a personal quest. The end goal is to build on player creativity while staying true to the story and the game.

A player asks, “Can my character tame the dragon and ride it into battle?” In improv, a yes-and approach might dive straight into the scene. In a TTRPG, you can say, “Absolutely, though the dragon is wild and wary. Convincing it will require a high Animal Handling roll, and without a saddle, you could risk falling during combat.”

Other times, “yes-and” lets you inject simple flavour into the game. “Can I swing on the chandelier and kick the goblin into the fireplace?” doesn’t need every detail calculated. Instead, respond with, “Yes, the chandelier is sturdy enough—roll an Acrobatics check to see how well you do it!” As the DM, you simply treat this as their attack roll instead of whatever weapon they were planning to use. The monster AC is now the DC. These responses keep the energy flowing and empowers the player to create a memorable moment.

‘Yes-and’ isn’t just for big, cinematic actions; it’s equally powerful for smaller moments that deepen roleplay or flesh out the world. For instance, if a player might ask, “I’m from this town, do I know this shopkeeper?” you can reply, “Yes, they owe you a small favor from your last visit. What’s their name?” This not only deepens the world, it gives the player actual ownership and investment in the story. These smaller moments build depth and keep the world dynamic. However, ‘yes-and’ is just one tool. Sometimes, saying ‘no’ is necessary to guide the story in the right direction.

How About No

Saying ‘no’ isn’t absolute. It’s an opportunity to teach players your style and show them what’s possible in your game.

Sometimes, a player will suggest something that just doesn’t work. Maybe it stretches the rules too far, feels out of place in the story, or risks undermining the game. This is where “no” comes in, and that’s perfectly okay. You don’t need to make “no” feel like shutting someone down; it’s not about it’s about redirecting their creativity. For example:

• Player: “Can I use fireball to melt the castle’s stone walls so we can escape?”
• Dungeon Master: “No. Fireball doesn’t really work like that. It’s more explosive, not sustained heat. You could use it to blast the door instead.”
• Alternatively, you could use your knowledge of the setting to offer alternatives or ways to reframe the idea, “No, fireball can’t melt the walls, maybe the dwarf can use their stone cunning or the ranger can find a weak point in the masonry, and you could blast it to help them break through.”

It works best when “No” becomes part of a dialogue, not a response to a raise. You’re not dismissing the player’s idea; you’re guiding it into something that fits the world and rules you’re playing with. By giving context and offering alternatives, you’re setting boundaries and teaching your players how to work within the game while staying imaginative. Saying no isn’t a failure—it’s part of the collaborative process that makes the game stronger and more engaging.

Rule of Cool

Sometimes a player has an idea for their character that prioritizes fun and creativity over strict adherence to rules or logic. It allows a player’s Cool idea take center stage and enhance the game, provided it doesn’t derail the story or break the game. Like any special tool, the ‘rule of cool’ works best when used sparingly. If everything is Cool all the time, it risks losing its impact. It is perfectly reasonable to look at the table before letting the action go through and saying something like, “This is sick, I am going to let this happen. Just to be clear, this is a one-time thing, not a precedent.” Most of the time, pulling off the Cool come with major consequences to a character. Lasting injuries, expending a critical resource that’s hard to recoup, or drawing the attention of a powerful enemy are some examples of stakes that make the Cool action feel meaningful while limiting its impact on the game’s structure.

Failing Forward

We touched on failing forward when discussing consequences a bit. Sometimes, the dice are against the players, yet the characters must get to the next story beat. Failing forward means, “that failed dice role did something that will cost the characters, while still letting them hit the next story beat.” Again, remember consequences not punishments.

Failing forward is a hard concept to learn because it runs counter to the rigid merit-based thinking baked into our capitalist society. In the world outside our games, failure is often framed as the end of the road—a moral judgment on your worth and capability. The thing is failure is inevitable. In both TTRPGs and life, we learn more from our missteps than our triumphs. Failing forward teaches us to view failure not as a yield, not a stop sign—a moment to pause, reassess, and find a new direction.

As a DM, embracing failing forward allows you to see the game as a living, evolving story, not a perfect performance. It lets you step back from the illusion of control and recognize that the players—and the dice—will shape the story as much as you do. And here’s the kicker: once you see the value in failure, you might start noticing how much of our daily lives are also shaped by rolling with the punches.

One of my favourite moments as a GM was running a Stargate: SG1 RPG. The group stepped through the gate and into a village where some of the people had a strange red stain streaked across their faces. The team’s anthropologist—excited to show off their skills—rolled to identify what it meant… and got a 1. We howled knowing that whatever was about to happen was going to be a problem for the characters, except the players committed to the failure.

The truth? The red stain marked an illness, and the village ostracised them. The fail forward became, “Hey guys, we have to smear this red berry all over our faces for them to accept us.” Suddenly, the entire party was slathered in red, enthusiastically making a “good” first impression with the locals. This mistake didn’t stop the story—it reshaped it. Instead of the villagers sending the group to the sick area, the characters went there first, creating unexpected challenges and comedy gold. That game was 20 years ago, and we still remember that scene. Why? Because failure wasn’t treated as the end—it became the spark for creativity and fun.

20 as a Wicked Success, not a Hall Pass

I LOVE a critical success. It’s something to be celebrated. However, it is not a wand of wonder or a guaranteed death star explosion. Rolling a crit success doesn’t mean players can defy the rules of the world or all logic.

Take the classic trope: the bard seducing a dragon. Rolling a 20 on Charisma might mean the dragon finds them “adorable” or entertaining enough to roast last, or first. Raaaare is the case where it guarantees the bard can charm it into a date—or pull a donkey. Success still needs to make sense in the game world.

You want critical successes to enhance the story, not derail it. It goes both ways, the last thing the players want is a DM to roll a 20 on a persuasion check to force a character to join them.

No matter how charming or convincing we are, even rolling a Nat 20 in real life is unlikely to convince Jeff Besos to push for higher taxation for the rich, or stop Elon from, well, Eloning. Grounding success in a little realism maintains the weight of those big rolls.

Ultimately, handling player decisions isn’t about fixed rules. It’s about creating that continuous, oft unspoken, conversation where players feel comfortable and encouraged to try things while respecting your maintenance of the game’s structure and world. When you share why you’re saying yes, no, offer an alternative, or using the rule of cool—you’re coaching the players how to collaborate with you as the Dungeon Master. It’s less about “yes-and” or “no-but” and more about, “Let’s figure this out together.” That’s what makes the game fun.

How do I Know When to End a Session?

Ending on a strong note keeps players invested in the story and eager to return. A good stopping point feels natural, ties up current actions, and can hint at what’s to come. If you are using an adventure module, it will have an end point specified. Most good modules will have notes or suggestions on where you could take the story next. Think of adventures like a book—this could have been the end of the chapter, the novel, or even the series. There are some common strategies that can help when even if everything isn’t resolved, the session ends on a satisfying note for everyone.

Classic Storytelling Tactics

One of the easiest ways to find a natural stopping point is to think like a storyteller. Three classic techniques I find myself using often are:

• Resolution of a Mini-Arc: Wrap up the immediate goal your players were working on. For example, they find the stolen artifact or defeat the enemy they’ve been chasing. Even if the larger story isn’t over, this resolution provides a sense of accomplishment.
• A Dramatic Cliffhanger: End with a critical moment that builds anticipation for the next session. A surprise, or twist that changes the stakes like the villain escapes.
• A Quiet Moment: Sometimes, the best endings are just quiet moments in the story. It can encourage natural player roleplay while they camp for the night, share stories, or plan their next move.

TTRPG-Specific Tactics

In a tabletop game, you have the added layers of players and mechanics to consider. Here’s three TTRPG tactics that correspond to the storytelling that are often used:

• Transition After Milestones: Milestones like saving the crown, completing a dungeon, or gaining a new piece of critical information are excellent stopping points. They naturally feel like a conclusion, even if the larger story continues. These are often great moments to level up.
• End on a Roll: A session-ending roll can create anticipation. For instance, the rogue is about to disarm a deadly trap—ask for the roll, then save the outcome for the next session. It’s like a TV show cutting to black mid-action.
• Keep an Eye on Energy:  Watch the room, or self vibe check. If you or the players seem tired or distracted, even the most dramatic moment can lose impact.

Blending Them Together

I always enjoyed how classic storytelling and TTRPG-specific approaches overlap when it comes to finding pause points. Both rely on creating moments of closure or anticipation. Blending storytelling and mechanics ensures that player choices remain at the heart of the game, while still guiding the narrative with structure.

Blending storytelling and mechanics creates memorable moments, offering both resolution and opportunities for the next session. Wrapping up a mini arc is a great time to introduce mechanical milestones, like leveling up or awarding a bastion, while also tying off loose ends or planting seeds for future adventures. For example, defeating a band of marauding bandits (a satisfying story beat) could lead to claiming their lair as a new stronghold. This triumphant moment transitions naturally into planning its defense or responding to emerging threats, seamlessly combining story resolution with gameplay opportunities.

Similarly, cliffhangers in storytelling and TTRPGs can have the same emotional impact. Imagine your players are exploring a cursed crypt, the mummy steps out of its coffin as you ask for initiative rolls—instead of revealing the outcome, you say, “and we’ll pick it up there next time.” Cliffhangers don’t always have to be dramatic or action-packed, an NPC could reveal a cryptic prophecy, or a character might uncover a mysterious map that hints at a long-forgotten secret. These quieter cliffhangers can intrigue players just as much as a dramatic monster reveal.

At their core, both storytelling and TTRPG techniques aim to balance satisfaction with anticipation. Whether it’s the resolution of a quest, the roll of a dice, or the glimpse of a distant city on the horizon, the goal is the same: to leave your players feeling like this session was meaningful, while keeping them excited for what comes next. The beauty of a TTRPG is that you get to use both narrative and mechanics tools at the same time to craft a truly memorable experience.

Conclusion

There you have it. Answer to my top 5 “How do I…” questions that hopefully help you your path to being a Dungeon Master or Game Master in any tabletop role playing game. Whew, thats a big read. Well do for making it to the end. Sometimes explaining HOW to do things can be really tricky.

Running a TTRPG is both an art and a craft, blending storytelling, mechanics, and player collaboration into an unforgettable experience. Whether you’re diving into your first game or refining your skills, remember that the heart of DMing is connection—creating a space where stories come to life, challenges spark creativity, and everyone leaves excited for what’s next. Embrace the tools, techniques, and tips that resonate with you, above all, trust your instincts and the players at your table. If they’re having fun, you’re already winning. Oh, and make sure you stop by and let me know what you were able to use, what helped? What other questions do you have. Have you had any luck with your story? Tell me all about it!

Now, go forth and do the thing!