Rainbow Dash: So...what do we do then?
Spike: I'm gonna try and make this right. Whether that means you keep playing or not, I'm ready to help. We'll do whatever you want to do, Dash.
Rainbow Dash: I wanna keep playing. You wrote some cool stuff, and I wanna see more of it.
Rainbow Dash: And I'd be fine playing Presto if we can just make this less complicated.
Spike: You got it! How about this: Just tell me what you want to happen, and we'll just roll for that. No need for a specific spell.
Rainbow Dash: No rules, just rolling? ...so what happens if I say I want to cast a spell to get us home?
Spike: You are in the best place to cast a spell like that.
Spike: It won't be easy, but you're welcome to rty.
Rainbow Dash: Feels like you're giving me a lot of power here.
Spike: It's okay. It's the least I can do. Plus, I trust you, Dash.
Rainbow Dash: ...thanks, Spike.
Guest Author's Note: "Sometimes, problems at the table aren't a catastrophe. They just need a little bit of honest conversation, and a little bit of trust.
And loosening the restrictions on your unlimited godlike power, but hey, we've all played D&D, we know that's just the way the universe crumbles."
And it's not like Spike can't say, "you don't know how to do that" or "that can't be done" or whatever. He knows the rules (and the loopholes) even if Dash doesn't.
Those are actually times where the advice of "don't say no" properly applies: You don't say "you can't do that," you ask for the player to roll and then tell them it failed, (because they couldn't do it¹). If they want to determine how hard it is, let them², as even a yahright difficulty can create a character goal³.
1: e.g. In a 'count the successes' dice pool system, it needed 20 successes and the PC only rolls 6 dice.
2: That might only require 4 successes to get a near-exact value, with even 2 saying "at least a dozen."
3: The Watsonian "I need power, knowledge and the right conditions," to the Doylist "how am I going to get that many dice?"
Imagine kids that watched the cartoon and decided they want to play DnD. "I want to be a wizard, like Presto! I want to put stuff out of my magic hat." And then DM needs to explain to them that magic doesn't work this way.
Ah the life of a Wild Mage. Some people hate it, some pick up rods of wonder to double down on not knowing what the heck they're going to do each turn.
Guest Author's Note: "Sometimes, problems at the table aren't a catastrophe. They just need a little bit of honest conversation, and a little bit of trust.
And loosening the restrictions on your unlimited godlike power, but hey, we've all played D&D, we know that's just the way the universe crumbles."