Beyond simplicity

Embracing complex resolution mechanics in TTRPGs

tl;dr: Complex, unpredictable dice systems are a feature, not a bug. They enhance TTRPGs by turning simple pass/fail rolls into rich narrative events with complications and degrees of success. This uncertainty forces players to stop calculating odds and start making immersive, in-character decisions, adding a layer of strategic depth through risk-taking that simple systems lack.

We all know the feeling. The Game Master sets the scene, you declare your action, and you reach for that familiar, twenty-sided die. You need a 14. You roll. Your fate is sealed in a single, clear, and mathematically direct moment.

This kind of direct randomness is the engine of countless amazing roleplaying games. It’s fast, it’s intuitive, and it gets the job done. But what happens when we ask our dice to do more? What do we gain when a roll is less of a simple yes/no question and more of a complex, unpredictable negotiation with fate?

While it might seem counterintuitive, moving away from easily assessed odds can be a powerful tool. A layer of uncertainty—a “fog of war” over the raw probability—isn’t a bug; it’s a feature that can profoundly enhance the game by deepening the narrative, engaging the player’s heart over their calculator, and adding meaningful strategic depth.

Reason #1: Forging a Deeper Narrative

When a dice roll can produce more than a binary result, it stops being a simple resolution mechanic and becomes a co-author of your story.

• Success Has a Price, Failure Has a Silver Lining: Imagine a system where your dice don’t just have numbers, but symbols. You roll to pick a heavy vault door and get two “success” symbols and one “complication” symbol. The GM tells you, “You hear the satisfying clunk as the lock gives way—you succeeded! But the effort was louder than you expected. You hear a curious guard’s footsteps approaching from down the hall.” The roll didn’t just resolve the action; it created a brand-new story beat. It turned a simple task into a moment of tension and consequence.

• The Dice as a Story Engine: This complexity means the system itself can introduce twists the GM hadn’t even planned. In a “fail forward” system, a missed sword swing doesn’t just mean you whiff. The dice might indicate that you over-extended and knocked a lit candelabra from the wall, setting the ancient library ablaze. The fight isn’t over; it’s suddenly a desperate race against the flames. The randomness just injected chaos and excitement directly into the scene.

• Mechanics That Feel Like the World: The experience of rolling the dice can mirror the game’s core themes. A gritty survival horror game might use a system where players slowly accumulate “stress” from their terrifying experiences. This stress makes future rolls more volatile and prone to disastrous outcomes, making the players feel their characters’ fraying nerves. Conversely, a high-action pulp adventure might feature “exploding dice,” where rolling the maximum value lets you roll again and add the results. This creates a slim but ever-present chance for a lowly sidekick to land a legendary, world-saving blow, perfectly matching the heroic tone.

Reason #2: Engaging the Player, Not the Calculator

When you can’t easily “play the odds,” you’re forced to play the character.

• Discouraging Statistical Analysis: When you need a “12 or better” on a d20, you know you have a 45% chance of success. This can pull a player out of the moment as they weigh the cold, hard math. Now, compare that to a system where you roll a pool of ten-sided dice and need to get three results of 7 or higher. What are the odds? It’s not immediately obvious. This uncertainty pushes the player away from being a statistician and towards roleplaying. The question shifts from “What are my chances?” to “Does my character feel confident enough to try this?”

• Creating Unforgettable Highs and Lows: Complex systems are brilliant at creating “push-your-luck” tension. Consider a mechanic where, as your character becomes more desperate, you can choose to add special “risk dice” to your pool. These dice have more sides and increase your chance of success, but they also have a unique symbol on one face. If that symbol comes up, something catastrophic happens, even if you otherwise succeeded. The palpable tension of choosing to add that die—knowing it could bring you glory or ruin—creates the unforgettable, nail-biting moments that players talk about for years.

Reason #3: Adding Layers of Strategic Depth

Unpredictability forces players to make more interesting and meaningful choices both before and after the roll.

• Randomness as a Resource: Many systems feature a narrative currency—call them “Hero Points,” “Fate Tokens,” or “Destiny.” These are rare, hard-won resources you can spend to influence a roll, perhaps by adding extra dice. The choice to spend one on a crucial roll is a heavy strategic gamble. You’re investing something precious into an uncertain outcome. The dice can still betray you, making the decision to spend—and the result of that spending—a deeply engaging part of the game’s strategy.

• Choosing Your Level of Risk: True agency comes from choosing your consequences. Imagine before trying to swing across a deep chasm, the GM asks you to set your approach: “Are you being Cautious, Standard, or Desperate?” A Cautious swing has a low chance of success but a minor penalty for failure (you just don’t make it). A Desperate swing might offer a huge bonus if you succeed, but failure means a long, long fall. By letting the player set their own stakes, they are strategically engaging with the very nature of the uncertainty they are about to face.

• Decoupling Success from a Clean Getaway: In many complex systems, success isn’t always neat. You might roll the dice to intimidate a local gangster for information. You succeed, and he talks! But the dice also show you accumulated two “heat” points. You got what you wanted, but now your crew is on the radar of a powerful crime family. You won the immediate conflict, but the chaotic nature of the dice just raised the stakes for the entire campaign.

The Beautiful Chaos

Ultimately, the purpose of complex, unpredictable randomness isn’t to be confusing; it’s to be enriching. It transforms the core action of the game from a simple pass/fail question into a font of narrative potential. It asks not just “Did you succeed?” but “How did you succeed, and at what cost?”

By embracing this layer of uncertainty, we give our games more narrative texture, create deeper player immersion, and open up new avenues for strategic choice. So the next time you encounter a game with a strange handful of dice, don’t be intimidated. You might just be on the verge of discovering a beautiful kind of chaos.