Why Jeffrogaxian Timekeeping Leads to More Meaningful Play

In 1979, the Dungeon Master's Guide for Advanced Dungeon & Dragons (First Edition) was published by TSR Games and written by none other than E. Gary Gygax himself. Hidden in plain sight in this nearly 45 -year-old book is a section on Time in the Campaign. The entire section is an incredibly worthy read, but two sentences in particular stand out. Gary himself thought so, because the first one he published with all capital letters. Here they are:

YOU CAN NOT HAVE A MEANINGFUL CAMPAIGN IF STRICT TIME RECORDS ARE NOT KEPT
...
it is best to use one actual day = one game day when no play is happening (p37)

About three years ago, Jeffro Johnson rediscovered this little-known and even less-implemented rule and the result has been the most significant improvement to roleplaying in decades.

In essence, the way this rule works is as follows. You're around the table playing, and the characters go on their adventure. When the session ends, the characters (who had better get themselves to a safe place) have taken up, let's say, ten days of game time. Those ten days adventuring equate to ten days on the actual calendar, so those characters are unavailable, away on their adventure, for the next actual ten calendar days in real life. If the players want to play another session before then, those characters are unavailable. The players must roll or play a different set of characters. It's a system of such obvious simplicity, you wonder why it remained hidden for so long.

Of course, since almost no one has played the game this way for at least thirty years, there are many detractors. It's been decried as an impediment to play, or as just plain silly. However, the exact opposite is actually true. There are a whole host of benefits that come from adopting this rule and sticking to it, and the results are neither an impediment or silly. However, for the sake of this post, let's just zero in on one of the meaningful results this will have on play around  your table.

Let's say that one of your players is fortunate enough to roll up a character whose ability scores meet all the minimums to play a Paladin in First Edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Let's say this player dutifully and faithfully played the role of his Paladin and has now finally reached fourth level. According to the Player's Handbook, he now has this benefit:

At 4th level -- or at any time thereafter -- the paladin may call for his warhorse; this creature is an intelligent heavy warhorse with 5+5 hit dice (5d8 plus 5 hit points). AC 5, and the speed of a medium warhorse (18"); it will magically appear, but only one such animal is available every ten years, so that if the first is lost the paladin must wait until the end of the period for another. (p22)

Now, consider also that Gary instructs the DM in the Dungeon Master's Guide to grade players on their roleplaying performance (cf. p86). This Paladin character is supposed to be a fighter of the utmost bravery, chivalry, honor, and valor. He cannot brook an insult, stand by if his deity is blasphemed, and he will not abandon a friend on the battlefield.

Just think about the incredible tension this creates when the players/characters encounter danger and the Paladin is mounted on his warhorse--but only if you have implemented Jeffrogaxian Timekeeping. The absolute last thing this Paladin's player will want is to lose his warhorse. He may even rather lose his own life (in the hopes of having Raise Dead cast on him) than lose his warhorse for the next actual ten years. At the same time, he knows that he is supposed to be a paragon of bravery, honor, and virtue on the battlefield. If that Cleric in the party who has a nasty habit of getting into bad situations forces him to ride into a terrible situation... the very worst could happen. The dread your player will feel over this situation will be absolutely palpable.

In fact, if he is a good player, it will lead him to marshal every ability at his command, every ounce of cleverness in his skull, every persuasive word and technique he can use, to find solutions to the encounter that minimize danger not just to himself but to the entire group. This is exactly what you want. You want the rules of the game to be constantly pushing your players to elevate their play and to arrive at new vistas of expertise and enjoyment.

Let's imagine for a moment that you are blessed to actually play this campaign with this same player for another ten actual years. The Dungeon Master's Guide has this little nugget about the Paladin's warhorse on page 18:

Once [the paladin obtains his warhorse], the warhorse knows its role and relationship to the paladin, and it will faithfully serve thereafter for 10 years. Thereafter, the paladin must seek another mount, as the former one will be too old to be useful.

Put yourself in that moment when the ten years are up. All this time the player has successfully encountered danger after danger with his trusty warhorse. Through it all they both managed to survive sometimes against odds that seemed incredible. And now, upon his old and grey steed, he takes that warhorse on one. last. ride.

How real will that moment be? I dare say that actual tears will be shed.

Jeffrogaxian Timekeeping is the most meaningful and important change you can make to your roleplaying table.