“Failing forward” is simple in concept — but often difficult to put into play on the fly.
I recently posted a fantasy RPG tip online that gave a bit of advice for handling the idea of “failing forward” when a check or test made by the characters in your game goes completely south. Then I had someone reach out saying they didn’t fully understand what the concept of failing forward meant, so let’s talk about that.
Advancing Test by Test
In most RPGs, the characters’ forward momentum depends on them succeeding on checks or tests — rolls representing a specific action, whose result determines the outcome of that action. Make a test to convince an NPC to help the party, roll your percentage chance to climb a wall, make a check to see if you successfully jump over a pit, and that sort of thing. In many RPGs, including Dungeons & Dragons, checks and tests are binary in nature — you succeed or you fail. But that binary outcome creates problems when failure stops an adventure in its tracks.
If the characters need to find a secret door to get into the hidden second half of a dungeon, what happens if everyone’s checks fail? If the party needs a noble’s assistance to gather information about an assassin’s guild, what happens if all attempts at diplomacy result in rolls so low they can only leave the noble enraged? It’s always a good idea to set up multiple solutions to the problems the characters face, whether you’re writing your own adventures or adding to published adventures. You can make sure there’s another way into the secret dungeon if the characters can’t find the door, or have different NPCs the party can seek an alliance with. But especially with a published adventure that locks down forward progress behind a single check or test, you can always ask yourself: “How can this failure still push the story forward?”
What “Failing Forward” means
When we talk about failing forward, we don’t simply want to pretend that a failure isn’t a failure. On a really bad check to pick a lock, it can feel like cheating to tell a player, “The lock opens anyway. I guess it was easier than you thought.” Rather, failing forward involves thinking about ways that failing at an intended task can create its own alternative path the characters can follow toward where they want to go.
Failing forward is likewise different than the setup of games that dispense with a success/failure binary in favor of a wider scale of success (including Dungeon World, Draw Steel, and CORE20). Even in games where partial successes or successes with complications are the rule, you can still fail tests and checks — and those failures can still stop an adventure dead.
Here's the thing, though. Especially for games with a rigid sense of binary success/failure built into their mechanics, coming up with ways for the characters to fail forward is really hard. Even people who love the idea (like me) sometimes struggle in the moment to turn mechanical catastrophe into an eventually positive outcome and avoid the story grinding to a halt. So whenever you have a failure threaten to put the brakes on the campaign narrative, keep the following points in mind.
Failure is Still Failure
Failing forward should always come at some sort of cost over and above whatever resources were expended in failing the test or check. Failure is still failure. It should sting. The players and characters should feel as if they’ve gotten lucky in being able to work around their failure, but they should likewise be aware that there’s a price to be paid for that opportunity, or that the path opened up by failure is more difficult than the path they’ve missed out on. If cleansing a corrupted shrine is the endgame goal of an adventure, a failure on the attempt to do so threatens to leave the ending of the adventure feeling flat. So maybe that failure overloads the shrine, causing it to eventually burn out on its own — but after summoning monsters for a final unplanned combat encounter.
How Bad Can Things Get?
When a check or test goes bad, look past thinking about the outcome as a clear failure. Instead, ask yourself: “What’s the worst possible way for the characters to succeed?” For example, a failure to gain the trust of a noble might automatically bring the characters to the attention of another noble — who has exactly what the characters need but demands some kind of extreme payment or service in return. Or the noble might have a dire reputation that attaches itself to the characters, becoming something that sullies their own reputation throughout the rest of the campaign. A failure to overcome corrupted magic at the entrance of an underground temple might see the characters enter the temple anyway when the floor collapses beneath their feet. Or you might decide that the corruption carries with the characters, imposing penalties in combat or on subsequent tests that you improvise on the fly.
Side Trekking
When failure thwarts the party, ask yourself whether that failure can result in an interesting extension to the campaign story that you hadn’t thought about. If the characters screw up their plans to seek information from a one-off NPC or accidentally collapse the entrance of the ruin they’re meant to explore, a side trek might solve that easily. With the main NPC off limits, how can the heroes seek out an alternative source of lore or resources? Can the collapsed entrance be dug out, or does the collapse open up an alternative, more dangerous entrance to the ruins that the characters would never have noticed if not forced to seek it?
Side treks often work better in homebrew campaigns, where it can be easier to change maps and NPC rosters than in a published adventure. They also work best in an adventure where the characters aren’t under an extreme time crunch. Having a side trek make the characters’ overall time-sensitive goal more difficult is great, but it can’t cause the heroes to fail at that larger goal.
Just for Laughs
Turning failure into success can work to keep the campaign story moving. But it doesn’t necessarily do anything to counteract the hit of taking the failure on the chin in the first place. As noted above, it’s important for failure to sting — but as a general rule, heroes and players alike hate screwing up. So when you’re thinking about ways to let the characters fail forward, finding humor in the failure can help soften the blow.
For example (from the post linked at the top that precipitated this discussion), a failure to locate a secret door the characters absolutely need to go through right now is normally an awkward stop point. But that failure can be tweaked to keep things moving forward by having the door be previously damaged — and falling on the character who got the worst result on the search check. Likewise, if a failure in a social encounter leaves the heroes needing to seek out a different NPC as a resource, having that NPC be the most ridiculous, over-the-top caricature will feel better than having a competent mastermind remind the players of their failure.
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