We’ve heard the term before: “murderhobo,” player characters that lead a nomadic existence defined by indiscriminate violence and a lack of social ties. These PCs are not merely a choice but a symptom of a deeper cognitive disconnect: the assumption that an NPC’s authority is derived exclusively from their hit point total or combat statistics.
Where do murderhobos come from? In my weekly Dungeons & Dragons library game that’s open to the public, I’ve discovered they’re out there, and I have a better of idea why.
The Digital Legacy
My encounters with murderhobos usually happen after the second game, when a player has gotten comfortable enough to ask. In-game, an authority figure tells them what to do (usually a sheriff or judge), and the player asks a simple question: “What if I just kill him?”
The murderhobo does not emerge in a vacuum. Though it’s existed before video games were common, it surely nowadays comes from the digital sandbox. In most computer role-playing games (CRPGs), players are conditioned to interact with the world through a binary interface. An NPC can be classified as a Static Quest Giver, often rendered unkillable by the game’s code—the aforementioned plot armor—or an Enemy, whose sole purpose is to be reduced to zero hit points for experience and loot. This binary creates an interesting dynamic where players only respect what the software forces them to respect.
When these players move to the tabletop, they often test the limits of the Dungeon Master’s world by attempting to kill low-level authority figures, such as town guards or local magistrates. If the DM has not established the institutional weight of these characters, players assume that a weak stat block implies a lack of importance.
The Hit Point Hallucination
A core tenet of the murderhobo’s logic is the Hit Point Hallucination: the belief that the capacity to take damage is the ultimate measure of an NPC’s worth. Historically, hit points have always been a nebulous abstraction. Since the original rules, they have represented a combination of physical durability, luck, and the will to survive. As the rules have evolved, particularly in the 2024 revision, this abstraction has been clarified to include “stamina, resilience, and endurance”.
When a player looks at a king with 10 hit points and a dragon with 500, they often conclude that the dragon is important and the king is not. This ignores the reality that hit points do not determine effectiveness in battle until they reach zero. A king with 1 HP can still command an army to fire a thousand arrows. The fallacy lies in treating hit points as meat points rather than a narrative resource.
The core of the murderhobo problem is the belief that the player is the only “real” person in the world. In a collaborative narrative, the NPC’s reality is maintained by the DM and the shared imagination of the group. If the party kills a beloved NPC, they are not just “clearing a mob”; they are destroying a piece of the shared world that everyone has invested in.
But to be clear, there has to be a world in the first place. A player can’t be blamed for threatening every guard when they’ve been eyeballs deep in dungeon monsters for weeks. Conversely, if the game is hack-and-slash only, this may well be acceptable (there’s a visceral thrill in playing a chaotic, violent campaign, though it probably doesn’t last long) and as long as that’s the goal of the campaign and everyone agrees, being openly violent can be fun.
Most times though, it’s one player who is new to the game or gets bored with it, reacting to the lack of stimulus or the frustration that their character can cast miracles, but they have to listen to this (surely low level) NPC. Depending on how resilient the DM’s campaign world is, they might not be wrong to think they can get away with it too. When players know that the world reacts logically to their actions—that killing a shopkeeper leads to the closure of the shop, the loss of a supply line, and a permanent Hostile attitude from the merchant’s guild—they begin to see the world as a persistent entity rather than a disposable playground.
The Authority of the Shared Dream
The murderhobo mindset can be a mismatch of expectations for those who have not yet learned to trust the DM or the world. Authority in a TTRPG is not a number; it is a story. It is the collective agreement that the king’s decree matters, that the merchant’s life has value, and that the party’s actions have weight. Conversely, not killing everything should matter; this means rewarding non-combat solutions, making NPCs feel like living people with goals and fears, and using the 2024 Influence rules to show that Charisma is just as powerful as a +1 longsword.
“Can’t I just kill him?”
Sure, I respond with a smile. “But then you have to deal with the consequences.” And that’s usually enough to make the player change their mind.
Your Turn: How do you deal with murderhobos?
Read more at this site