In addition to what the others have said, I think degrees of failure are often a fun thing to introduce whether they are in the rules or not (I’ll assume D&D 5E). It might be that a 20 with your +3 athletics isn’t enough to completely leap over that huge gap, but you manage to grab a handhold a few metres below the edge. You’ll have to take a turn or two to climb up, but you’re okay. The cleric’s roll of 3 with a -1 athletics, on the other hand, sees him plummeting to the bottom and taking a heap of fall damage
Once in a blue moon, an impossible check can impress a scale of difficulty on the players.
D&D example: a player with a high bonus attempts an Arcana check to figure out an enchantment and rolls well, up to a natural 20. I let the players have their moment of joy. Then I make a big deal of telling them they don’t have any idea what’s up with this enchantment. I really talk up how weird/complicated/confusing/impenetrable the enchantment is.
I’d be trying to prompt emotions I want the players and PC to share. Frustration, inadequacy. The players would viscerally know they need to try a different approach.
And because I gave the check a decent chunk of game time, it has more narrative weight. An interactive skill check is more substantial in the player’s mind than a monologue on the task being impossible, particularly if it stands out because they fail that check despite a super high result.
It’s a niche scenario, I admit. Most of the time just don’t ask for the check.
Like, if something would need a DC 25 Acrobatics check, I ask the player “Wait, how high is your character’s Acrobatics? +3? Ah no sorry, you can’t do that.”
Ok, but if the 20 doesn’t succed, why did you let them roll in the first place?
Maintaining the illusion? Not revealing the (impossible) DC?
In addition to what the others have said, I think degrees of failure are often a fun thing to introduce whether they are in the rules or not (I’ll assume D&D 5E). It might be that a 20 with your +3 athletics isn’t enough to completely leap over that huge gap, but you manage to grab a handhold a few metres below the edge. You’ll have to take a turn or two to climb up, but you’re okay. The cleric’s roll of 3 with a -1 athletics, on the other hand, sees him plummeting to the bottom and taking a heap of fall damage
Yep, those are all great responses. I learned a lot.
Funwise, it seems like a good solution would be “failure… but!” approach.
So the player have at least some reward for doing the best they can even if it’s not enought to clear the chalange completely.
Once in a blue moon, an impossible check can impress a scale of difficulty on the players.
D&D example: a player with a high bonus attempts an Arcana check to figure out an enchantment and rolls well, up to a natural 20. I let the players have their moment of joy. Then I make a big deal of telling them they don’t have any idea what’s up with this enchantment. I really talk up how weird/complicated/confusing/impenetrable the enchantment is.
I’d be trying to prompt emotions I want the players and PC to share. Frustration, inadequacy. The players would viscerally know they need to try a different approach.
And because I gave the check a decent chunk of game time, it has more narrative weight. An interactive skill check is more substantial in the player’s mind than a monologue on the task being impossible, particularly if it stands out because they fail that check despite a super high result.
It’s a niche scenario, I admit. Most of the time just don’t ask for the check.
Some players don’t ask.
Because I don’t know what their max roll might be and it achieves them something, they gain knowledge that something is impossible for them.
I… Don’t? Is that so magical?
Like, if something would need a DC 25 Acrobatics check, I ask the player “Wait, how high is your character’s Acrobatics? +3? Ah no sorry, you can’t do that.”