"You see this."

I believe the OSR community misapplies these terms to disparage the difference between modern and classic play styles. Here’s why we have it backwards.

THE SOURCE OF JOY

Classic editions of Dungeons & Dragons have their roots in miniature wargaming—a niche hobby that hinges on player mastery. The joy of playing comes from achieving success by being clever, learning, and using your wits. Player mastery feels good. Partly because we enjoy using our brains, and partly because we get to feel elite for belonging to a demographic of intelligent people who also enjoy using their brains.

But an elite appeal means an elite market. To sell to a wider audience, Hasbro realized that player mastery was an obstacle. So they implemented a paradigm shift and supported it with a change to the game mechanics:

They culturally shifted the source of joy from achieving player mastery to sharing a story-telling experience, and they mechanically enabled character mastery so that player mastery would no longer be needed to unfold that story.


STORY AS A PRODUCT OF THE GAME

The “story” in classic D&D culture is the product of playing. It is the retelling of what happened. Like any sport or game, the mastery of the player determines whether that story is short and dull, or long and exciting. And that’s because the Dungeon Master is not a storyteller with an epic tale to tell, but a referee who describes the results of the players’ decisions and dice rolls, whether it’s a TPK or conquest for legendary wealth.

In the best possible way, this is a roll playing game because the dice have real consequences, and the only “role” is treasure hunter. The story is the result.

STORY AS THE GENESIS OF THE GAME

Repositioning the story at the genesis of the D&D experience shifts the accountability: You don’t have to master the game to produce an epic adventure story, because the story was already produced without you. The Dungeon Master (or someone at Hasbro) authored a plot to be fun and exciting, and you just need show up to play your role in determining how the PCs triumph.

This is a heavily loaded premise: Firstly, the players are expected make certain decisions to enable that plot. Secondly, the PCs are expected to survive long enough to experience the plot—and to triumph. And thirdly, since the game no longer requires player mastery, the characters must be mechanically competent on behalf of the players in order to enable their survival.

This feeds a thriving sub-culture of fudging rolls and railroading:
“The PCs can’t miss this roll, or be TPK’d here, or veer off course to pursue a random NPC, because that’s not how the story is supposed to go.”

The game thus becomes little more than voicing character dialog. The character interrogates their own environment via perception checks, backgrounds and powers. Critical rolls are fudged to keep the plot viable, and the player only makes inconsequential rolls that determine how an enemy is inevitably defeated.

From this point of view, this is wholly a role playing game, because the actual die rolls amount to very little. The fun and drama of D&D now comes from performance and cinema.

Please note:
This is not the case at every modern table. The system doesn’t prescribe this culture, it only enables it by making player mastery optional. You can 100% run a lethal sandbox in 5E. Also, this is still FUN. Anyone who ever enjoyed a video game with a plot was enjoying precisely this type of entertainment.

ADVERSITY

Dungeons & Dragons is not one game that has endured for 50 years. It is many games. Not just by edition, but table by table.

Nonetheless, I think a frustrated few believe that D&D is still a singular, elite space that has been invaded by 10 million casual players who should be resented for wanting to experience all the joy of their beloved hobby without any of the endurance or attrition of player mastery. Or, perhaps it’s resentment that these invaders made the game less elite, and they don’t feel special. Or, perhaps – like me – they’re just a bit sad that it’s no longer really a game, but instead has become “game entertainment”.

Of course, it’s not the same game, and none of us are special. We’re adults who pretend to be Elves for a few hours a week, so there’s no reason to feel anything at all. Just go play.