Flexibility in the face of unforeseen change is a fundamental part of what makes TTRPGs fun. Sadly, published adventure modules are, in my opinion, deeply flawed by the very fact that they are designed to send players down a strict path of content without consideration for player input.
In a game genre where the word "railroading" is as dirty as any four-letter offering you can muster, published modules openly embrace this design flaw and turn it into a full-fledged game mechanic.
In Episode #55 of the Game Master's Journey podcast (Oct 13, 2015 --
While Lex talked more about the broad strokes of the module problem, allow me to get more specific.
I couldn't even estimate the number of times I've heard a game master on YouTube begin their brand new campaign by fumbling the pronunciation of the very first town. Now, I'm not harping on the mispronunciation. People make mistakes. But in this case, the mispronunciation is simply the first in a cavalcade of gaffes, disjointed narrations, and hard pauses symptomatic of the real problem: namely that somewhere between what's written in the book (which came from the mind of another human being) and the intimate feel of the content that someone thinks up for his- or herself is a disconnect that forces a game master to stutter-step from plot point to plot point like a drunken elephant at a carnival.
I say this not to openly lambaste published modules or the people who use them, but to show from a player or audience member's prospective that reading directly from the book at the table is rarely the way to go. Instead, know the world you're bringing your players into so thoroughly that you don't have to recite the setting or look up the answer to a player's question.
And occasionally, it's okay to change the names to protect the innocent (specifically my ears).
Mastering an enjoyable TTRPG campaign requires as much flexibility as you can muster. Look at published adventures as "guidebooks" that have beats you can shift around and sacrifice like pieces on a chess board. Do not suck up every crumb of detail as if you were hosting a historical reenactment.
Seeing modules as more than the ink on their pages and trusting in your own brain to fill in the blanks will create better gaming experiences that your players (and viewers) will thank you for.
Do you know any tricks for making published modules more fluid? Do you know the proper way to pronounce the name "Rochambeau"? The comment section below is waiting for you and if you like this post, share it with your friends on Twitter and Facebook.