Born to die - TTRPGs and the Endless Graveyard of Prep

I remember seeing this mistake more often with newer GMs.

The party finally corners the villain after hours—or sometimes months—of build-up. They win the fight fairly, everyone at the table is excited, and it feels like the perfect moment for the heroes to finally defeat the villain.

Then the GM panics.

Suddenly the villain teleports away. Maybe they reveal a second form. Maybe reinforcements arrive out of nowhere. Maybe an NPC appears to save them. And to be clear, none of those things are inherently bad. A villain escaping can be exciting. A second form can be memorable. A twist can make a fight even better.

The problem is when those things happen because the GM simply cannot accept that their favorite creation lost.

Players can usually feel the difference between an exciting twist and a desperate escape hatch.

When you run tabletop games, you spend a lot of time creating things that exist to be challenged, bypassed, ignored, defeated, or sometimes completely destroyed by the players.

That includes villains, monsters, dungeon rooms, secret lore, NPCs, alternate endings, and entire encounters players may never even see.

That’s normal.

I spend a lot of time creating things for my own games. I’ve written villains for sandbox campaigns, designed monsters, created encounters, and written backstories players may never learn. Sometimes I go deeper into a monster’s backstory than I need to simply because I enjoy the process.

But I create all of that knowing it may not survive contact with the players.

Sometimes players defeat something faster than expected. Sometimes they ignore an NPC you thought would matter. Sometimes they completely bypass sections of an adventure.

I’ve been running official adventure paths for a long while now, and more than once my players have found ways to skip entire sections of a dungeon. I didn’t get upset about it because their decisions made complete sense. In some cases I looked at their solution and thought, "Honestly, I would’ve skipped that too."

That’s when you adapt.

A lot of prep quietly dies behind the scenes of a campaign. Players rarely see the unused encounters, alternate story paths, abandoned dungeon rooms, rewritten villains, and backup plans that never become relevant.

That work is not wasted.

It helps you build a richer experience, and many of those ideas can always be reused later.

I recycle things constantly. Monsters, maps, villains, encounters—everything eventually finds a new home somewhere else.

The real issue happens when a GM forgets who the story is actually about.

Your villain is not the protagonist.

The players are.

Most of the time, when players finally defeat a major villain, they want that victory to feel complete. You can usually feel when the table wants that final moment. If you force an escape because you want your villain to survive, you may be protecting your own idea at the expense of the players’ enjoyment.

Good GMing often comes down to reading the room. Sometimes a villain escaping creates excitement. Sometimes it would completely ruin the moment. Knowing the difference matters.

I’ve also seen the opposite approach go very badly. I remember one GM who tried to heavily railroad a campaign because they wanted to recreate a movie they liked. It felt less like playing a game and more like participating in someone else’s script.

That approach rarely works because players are not there to admire your story from a distance. They’re there to actively shape it.

Being a GM requires a strange kind of creativity. You spend hours creating villains, monsters, maps, encounters, lore, and entire sections of adventures that may never fully unfold the way you imagined. Players may skip content, outsmart encounters, ignore NPCs, or completely surprise you.

And that’s fine.

That’s part of the craft.

Your prep is not sacred.

Your villain is not the protagonist.

And your best ideas are never truly wasted because they can always return in another campaign, another story, or another form.

Create boldly. Detach gracefully. Prioritize player fulfillment over your attachment to your creations.

Training Your Imagination Through Role-Playing Games

 

I’ve always believed imagination is something everyone is born with. Like a muscle, it can grow stronger with practice, or fade away if you stop using it. For me, role-playing games have been one of the best ways to keep that “imagination muscle” flexing.

When I first started playing tabletop RPGs, I didn’t think of them as a tool for creativity. I just thought they were fun. But over time, I noticed something interesting: the more I played, the more ideas I had.

These days I work as a Dungeon Master for hire, which means I run games for people regularly. One thing I’ve noticed is that during sessions, my brain starts producing ideas faster than I can use them. A small moment, a quirky player decision, an improvised scene, even a line of dialogue,  can spark three or four new ideas for future adventures. Creativity feels like a row of dominoes: one idea falls, knocking over another, then another, and suddenly there’s a whole web of possibilities.

Before I started running games regularly, my imagination was quieter. Now there’s always something “brewing” in my head. It’s a nice problem to have.

The First Imagination Exercise: Creating a Character

Role-playing games ask you to be creative right from the start. When someone sits down to make their first character, even the shyest players are forced to imagine a person who doesn’t exist. Name, appearance, personality, maybe a background or a goal—suddenly you’re inventing someone and thinking about how they would act in situations that don’t exist yet.

At first, most people keep it simple: “I’ll be a warrior” or “a rogue.” But even that small step is already imagination in action. Psychologists like J. P. Guilford identified divergent thinking, the ability to generate multiple possibilities from a single idea, as a core component of creative thought. Role-playing games naturally train this ability because every choice can go in a hundred directions. Instead of asking, “what’s the right answer?” you’re asking, “what would my character do?”

Improvisation and the Unexpected

Another thing that makes RPGs unique is improvisation. You can plan all you want as a DM, but players will always surprise you. No plan survives contact with players.

For example, in one campaign, my group decided to capture a giantess and turn her into the star of a gladiatorial arena. They gave her an artistic stage name, built her persona, and suddenly my carefully prepared story didn’t matter. The arena became part of the world: the players would go on quests, fight monsters during their adventures, and when they defeated them, they offered them a choice, "die or join the show". Soon the arena was full of bombastic gladiators with personalities that rivaled real-life wrestling characters. Improvising along with the players turned that part of the campaign into one of the most memorable experiences I’ve ever had.

Breaking Creative Barriers

Role-playing also helps people overcome creative blocks. Many adults say they’re “not creative,” but in my experience, it’s usually social barriers: fear of looking silly, fear of embarrassment, fear of sharing ideas. RPGs remove some of that pressure. Because it’s a game, you can relax and just play.

I remember a friend who was shy at first. Speaking in character felt awkward to them. But after a few sessions, something clicked. They started leaning into the role, improvising dialogue, and expressing their character fully. Eventually, they became so comfortable with performing that they pursued a career in theatre.

Even developmental psychologist Lev Vygotsky pointed out that imaginative play allows people to experiment with behaviors and identities in a safe space. While he studied children, the principle works surprisingly well for adults playing tabletop games.

Creativity Beyond the Table

The creativity RPGs spark doesn’t stop at the table. Players draw their characters, commission artists, write journals, or even write books inspired by the campaigns they’ve played. Some create miniatures, maps, or music. I’ve even seen people turn games into cookbooks, build themed rooms like dungeons or taverns in their homes, or cosplay their characters. Once imagination starts moving, it tends to keep going.

Solo vs Group Imagination

Playing solo is a different experience. When I roll dice alone, characters sometimes take actions I didn’t plan. The story surprises me, almost like meditation for my imagination. Dice and random events push the story in directions I wouldn’t have thought of otherwise.

Group play is more like bouncing a ball of ideas between people. One player suggests something, another builds on it, and the story grows collaboratively. Both approaches train imagination, but in slightly different ways. Solo is introspective; group is interactive.

Why Adults Need This?

Children naturally play pretend. Adults usually stop. Social pressure tells us imaginative play is “childish,” and many of us bury that part of ourselves.

Fortunately, that’s changing. Shows like Stranger Things and The Big Bang Theory, along with actual-play shows like Critical Role, have helped normalize role-playing for adults. It’s no longer something only nerdy kids do in basements, it’s a socially accepted, highly creative activity.

Simple Ways to Train Your Imagination Through Role-Playing

Over the years, I’ve noticed that some habits make role-playing especially effective for training creativity:

1. Create characters with small details: Clothing, speech, fears, quirks. One or two details can make a character feel alive.

2. Describe your actions: Don’t just say “I attack.” Describe how your character attacks: cautiously, dramatically, recklessly. This trains your ability to imagine scenes vividly.

3. Keep a notebook of ideas: A line of dialogue, a funny player decision, or a surprising encounter can spark ideas for future adventures, drawings, or stories.

4. Let improvisation happen: Don’t overthink it. Some of the best ideas come from reacting in the moment.

5. Expand the game beyond the table: Draw your characters, write journals, build maps, craft miniatures, or imagine scenes that never happened. The more ways you engage, the more your imagination grows.

---

For me, role-playing games aren’t just entertainment—they’re a way to keep imagination alive. The more you play, the more ideas appear. One spark leads to another, like dominoes falling in all directions. And once that process starts, it’s hard to stop. Which is probably a good thing.

The Characters We Fell in Love With

 

You don’t always expect it. Sometimes you just make a character for fun — maybe you picked the class because it sounded cool or because your group needed a rogue. You wrote a short backstory, gave them a weird voice or a quirk, maybe made a joke about their name. And then somehow, after a few sessions… they stuck. They lived. They became more than numbers and gear. And you realize: you kind of love this character.

It’s happened to me more than once. I’ve made so many characters over the years that I’ve lost count — some were hilarious disasters, some never got off the ground, and some felt like pure magic. Like a halfling assassin who was cheerful, bubbly, and incredibly deadly. That contrast — evil and happy-go-lucky — just worked. I didn’t know if she’d last long, but I always felt that sooner or later, her luck would run out. It was like her destiny was to end badly. And yet she kept going. The more I played, the more I wanted to see what she’d do next.

She was originally created for a game inspired by the book series War of the Spider Queen — a dark, twisty world that got me thinking about what a party of evil characters might look like. Not a carbon copy of the books, but our own cast. And mine was the cheerful killer. Evil, yes — but fun. Naive. Playful. And I was hooked.

And it’s not just her. I’ve had a super lawful halfling paladin named Nakia, part of a game where our characters were loosely inspired by cellphone brands. I’ve played a Drow wizard who escaped the Underdark and became a naturalist, completely fascinated by magical beasts of the surface world, while still being hunted by Lolth’s priesthood. Each of them had their own charm, their own spark. And none of them ended up exactly how I imagined.

Sometimes I start with a concept, but once I begin playing, the character starts changing. Evolving. Sometimes the dice guide that change, sometimes it's just a moment of inspiration, or something unexpected another player says. When you play in a group, your PC doesn’t exist in a vacuum — they bounce off the others, reflect them, push them, get changed by them. And if the campaign lasts long enough, you can look back and see how they grew.

That’s one of the best parts: the character surprises you. They become more alive than you intended.

When that happens, the game starts spilling out of the game. I start writing stories, drawing scenes, imagining their life beyond the campaign. I use them in solo games, or sneak them into my world as NPCs when I GM. It’s like having a playlist you never get tired of — they keep giving. Sometimes they become a kind of creative fuel. Not just for playing, but for everything else.

And honestly, I consider doing all that other stuff — drawing, writing, thinking about them — just another way of playing. Especially in solo games. In fact, sometimes I’ll use the same character in solo and group games, or recycle them as important NPCs when I GM. That character becomes part of my toolbox. A familiar spark I can bring out again.

That doesn’t mean I feel emotionally attached in a sentimental way. I don’t cry over them or see them as friends. But I do enjoy them. I feel protective of them, the way I feel protective of any story or thing I’ve created. They become mine in a way that’s hard to explain — like a favorite brush or character sketch or theme song.

Yes, theme song! That’s something else I’ve seen people do — and it’s honestly one of the coolest ways to bring your character to life. Pick a song that fits their mood, their goals, their vibe. Or go further and compose something original. It’s another form of expression, another way to explore who they are.

I also read somewhere about doing an interview with your character — like, literally pretending to be a journalist and asking them deep, personal questions. It's not my idea, but it stuck with me. It’s a fun exercise, and it can really help you figure out how your character thinks, talks, and reacts.

Then there’s the visual side. Some people cosplay their characters. Others commission artists to bring them to life. You can print custom miniatures, or even go big and make a full-on statuette. I’ve seen people invest in all kinds of physical mementos, and it’s always touching — like honoring a story that meant something.

One of my favorite stories I came across was about a guy who found his dad’s old character sheet in a box of dusty D&D stuff. Turns out, he’d been named after that character. That’s how deep this stuff can go. I even read about someone who named their publishing company after one of their old PCs. I love that.

Here’s the truth: not every character you make will be a masterpiece. That’s fine. You need the throwaway ones, the failed ones, the weird experiments. Because somewhere in that process, you’ll hit gold. You’ll find one that clicks. And that’s why I always encourage people — especially new players — to keep making characters. Go weird, go big, go too dramatic. Play with archetypes. Break them. Make five different tieflings until one of them sings.

Characters aren’t just vessels for stats. They’re mirrors, windows, and sometimes little pieces of ourselves exaggerated and let loose. We can be brave through them, or reckless, or curious. We can test emotions we don’t always get to explore in everyday life. And when we fall in love with them — not just because they’re cool, but because they feel real — it reminds us why we love stories in the first place.

It’s a great experience. I recommend it 100%.

And if you’re just starting? Don’t worry if your first character doesn’t land. Keep creating. Keep trying things. Try giving them theme songs. Try writing interviews. Draw them, or commission someone to. Write them poems or dumb journal entries. Let yourself explore. Let yourself play.

Because all this? It’s creativity. And whether you’re shy or bold, serious or silly, this kind of play does something good to your brain. It boosts creativity. It builds confidence. It lets you create something that’s yours — fully yours — and share it if you want.

Just keep going until you find the one that hits you right in the creative core — the one that makes you laugh, or draw, or stay up at night thinking about their next move.

That’s your spark.

That’s the character you fell in love with.

If you’ve got a character you love — or you’ve just started making one you’re curious about — I’d love to hear about it. Share your stories, your drawings, your playlists, whatever you’ve made. Leave a comment, send me a message, or tag me if you’ve posted it elsewhere.

And if you haven’t tried this yet… what are you waiting for? Make a character. Let them surprise you. Then make another.

You never know which one you’ll fall in love with.

We Live Many Lives: TTRPGs, The Inner Light, and That One Time I Was a Lich King

 

There’s this Star Trek: The Next Generation episode called The Inner Light. Even if you’re not a Trekkie, hear me out.

Captain Picard gets zapped by a mysterious space probe (as one does), passes out for a few minutes, and wakes up living someone else’s life on a peaceful planet. New name, new wife, new everything. He spends decades there—grows old, learns to play the flute, raises a family. And then, poof. Back to the Enterprise. The planet’s gone. The people are gone. The whole thing was a memory implant—this extinct civilization’s way of being remembered.

But here’s the thing: it changed him.

That episode came to mind the other day, and I couldn’t stop thinking—maybe we’re all having little Inner Light moments when we play TTRPGs.

---

The Lives We Roll Into

I’ve played a lot of characters. Some were dumb. Some were funny. Some were powerful. Some were disasters. And a few… a few left a mark.

No, they’re not “real.” I get that. They don’t go to work or eat cereal. But the emotions? Those were real. The tension when the rogue had to betray the party to save her sister. The joy when the warlock finally broke her pact and lived. The heartbreak when the paladin died alone, still believing.

Emotions are the only thing that really anchor us to life. Otherwise it’s just scenes flying by.

So when I say I’ve lived many lives, I mean it. Not in a “past life” kind of way—but through dice, stories, drawing characters, and creating worlds. I’ve walked in shoes that weren’t mine. I’ve felt things I wouldn’t have in my normal, relatively quiet life (which involves zero dragons, by the way).

---

Why It Sticks

The randomness is part of the magic. In a novel, you control the outcome. In a TTRPG? The dice laugh at your plans. Characters start one way and end up somewhere completely different. They grow. They change. Sometimes they surprise you.

And even if I don’t go full method-actor immersion while playing, those characters linger. I think about them later. I write stories about them. I draw them. I reuse them. Sometimes they show up in other campaigns. Or as NPCs. Or as weird little ghosts in my stories. They’re not gone—they just evolved.

And they remind me of the people I played with. Friends who aren’t in my life anymore. Late-night laughs. Emotional moments. Pizza on the character sheet. All that stays.

---

What Is a Life, Anyway?

A life is a collection of memories and feelings. That’s it.

So if I experienced something with depth—grief, joy, regret—even if it was inside a made-up world, isn’t that a kind of life?

I’m not trying to get all philosophical, but I am saying this: creating makes us live more. Some folks say reading does that, and sure, it does. But creating is more intimate. It’s more personal. It gets under your skin. You’re not just imagining someone’s life—you’re being them, just for a while.

Even if everything around us is fake—a matrix, a dream, a brain in a jar—the emotions still count.

---

Why I Keep Coming Back

I don’t know why everyone plays TTRPGs. Some people love the strategy. Some love the math. Some just want to hit stuff with a sword. That’s cool.

But me? I come back because it lets me feel things I wouldn’t normally get to feel. It’s a way to explore ideas, emotions, and lives I’d never touch otherwise. A safe way to live other lives. To go on journeys that challenge me, or surprise me, or just make me laugh.

And the best part? When a campaign ends, you don’t lose that life. You carry it with you. Like Picard and his flute. A little piece of a world that doesn’t exist anymore… but changed you anyway.

So yeah. Maybe none of this is real. But it feels real. And that’s enough.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go write about that time I ran a game where the big bad evil lich got teleported to our world—straight into Comicon—by the party of heroes.

From Solo Roleplay to Storytelling: How Red Noir Quest Turned Into Something More

 

It started with a solo game.

I wanted to try an evil adventuring party—not something super grim or edgy, more like something dark but fun. A little twisted, but with some charm too. So I created the characters, and then, like always, I drew them. I'm constantly drawing characters and coming up with story ideas. That’s just how my brain works, I guess. But as I started playing through the opening scenes, I began to feel like there was more here. Something worth keeping. Something I might want to turn into a proper story.

That’s how Red Noir Quest began.

 

Drawing has always been my thing. It helps me relax. It’s like entering a flow state, like reaching into a dream. But it’s not always about starting with a drawing. Sometimes it begins with a scene idea or a bit of dialogue. Sometimes with a map. Writing, drawing, solo games—they all talk to each other. I bounce between them all the time, and they feed each other.

 

What I love about solo roleplay is the freedom. There’s no pressure to please anyone else, so I can explore whatever I want. Weird emotions, bad decisions, morally gray stuff—things I might not throw into a group game right away. I can be honest with the story because it’s just me. And sometimes it gets pretty intense, ha.

Eventually, Red Noir Quest started to feel like something I wanted to share. So I began cutting the extra dark stuff and reshaping it. I kept the tone playful but gave it weight. I created a map, wrote up the world, the kingdom, the queen, even details that didn’t end up in the final story—but they helped me understand the world better.

And I didn’t stop playing either. I kept running little solo scenes just to get to know the characters better. That’s something I always recommend: roleplaying your characters—especially in solo—helps a lot with their development. You discover new things about them as you go. You add stuff. You take things away. They evolve naturally as you play.

That’s pretty much my creative process. First, I just let everything pour out. No filter. If it feels good, I go with it. Then, if it seems like it has potential, I take time to polish it and turn it into something I can show the world. But the fun part is always the beginning—that moment when an idea just wants out.

I also take inspiration from my solo games into my group campaigns. NPCs, plots, whole encounters sometimes come from solo stuff I played around with. It’s like a testing ground. A sketchbook with dice.

What I’m trying to say is: if you enjoy creating, but feel stuck, or you think you're “not that creative”—don’t worry about that. Just make stuff. Open your notes app and write down a weird idea. Draw something silly. Play a random scene in your head or on paper and see what happens. The first version doesn’t have to be great. It just needs to exist. You can clean it up later.

And if nothing’s coming out? Take a break. Go for a walk. Doodle. Take a nap—seriously. I get vivid dreams and sometimes they hand me ideas I never would've come up with on my own. Resting helps more than forcing it.

Red Noir Quest didn’t start as a book. It started with curiosity. With play. With sketches. And that’s how most good things start, honestly—not with a big goal, but just doing the thing you enjoy.

So draw. Write. Play. Let it be messy. Let it be weird. Let it be yours.

You never know what it’ll become.

Check out Red Noir Quest – A story born from solo roleplaying, full of mystery, charm, and dark fun. Illustrated with original art and written from the heart.

 

 

Playing Isn't Immature: How Hobbies Keep You Grounded

Why Hobbies Like Playing Games and Collecting Toys Are Not Immature for Adults

I'm writing this article because I recently read a post about how this generation is labeled as immature for collecting toys, playing video games, and watching anime. Honestly, this notion frustrates me. Why are we still stuck in the outdated belief that enjoying hobbies somehow makes you less mature? It’s time to set the record straight: playing games, collecting toys, and enjoying creative outlets like anime and tabletop RPGs is not only normal but beneficial. Let me explain why we, as adults, should confidently embrace these hobbies.

The Benefits of Hobbies: Joy, Relaxation, and Stress Relief

Hobbies can bring immense joy and relaxation, and adults are no exception to this. Engaging in activities like gaming or collecting toys offers a break from the grind of daily responsibilities. It's absurd to think that you have to give up what you love just because of your age. Whether it’s sitting down to play a video game after work or adding to your action figure collection, these moments of enjoyment are part of what makes life fulfilling.

Hobbies serve as mental escapes, giving individuals the chance to recharge and relieve stress. When life gets overwhelming, these outlets can be a form of self-care. There’s nothing immature about taking time to enjoy yourself in healthy, fulfilling ways.

Shifting Societal Perceptions: Hobbies Aren’t Just for Kids Anymore

Let’s get this clear: societal views are changing. The old stereotype that hobbies like gaming or collecting are for kids is being challenged more and more. There are entire industries now catering to adult hobbyists, whether that’s complex board games, advanced action figure collections, or even video games designed for mature audiences. The market recognizes that adults enjoy these hobbies, and so should society at large. It’s time to let go of the assumption that hobbies are childish.

The Role of Nostalgia: Reliving Positive Childhood Experiences

One of the reasons adults return to childhood hobbies is nostalgia. There’s real value in reconnecting with the activities that brought you joy growing up. Collecting toys, revisiting classic video games, or participating in familiar hobbies can evoke positive memories and provide emotional comfort during stressful times.

Personally, I feel more atemporal—I don’t share that strong sense of nostalgia that drives many others. However, I fully understand its appeal. Many people find comfort in revisiting these hobbies, whether it’s watching old anime or replaying a favorite game from childhood. This connection to the past helps many manage stress, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Cognitive and Social Benefits: Not Just Fun, But Growth

Hobbies like gaming and collecting toys aren’t just about having fun—they can also contribute to cognitive and social development. For instance, playing video games can enhance problem-solving skills, hand-eye coordination, and strategic thinking.

And let’s not forget about tabletop RPGs (TTRPGs) like Dungeons & Dragons. These games are incredible for encouraging creativity, collaborative storytelling, and critical thinking. Players are constantly solving puzzles, managing complex narratives, and engaging in meaningful social interactions. These activities foster skills that go far beyond the game itself, making them a valuable part of personal growth.

Collecting toys or engaging in a complex game isn’t just about passing time. It’s about fostering curiosity, learning new things, and developing patience and focus. Whether you're playing an online game or organizing a collection, these hobbies require thought and engagement that are undeniably beneficial.

The Mental Health Impact: Hobbies as Stress Relievers

Hobbies are one of the best tools we have for managing stress and improving mental health. Engaging in something you love—whether it’s a game, a collection, or even a tabletop RPG session—helps release the tension of everyday life. The positive effects of immersing yourself in a world, whether virtual or imagined, cannot be understated.

A fantastic example of how gaming can support mental health, even into later years, is the Silver Snipers, an eSports team of senior players from Sweden, with some members well into their 80s. These incredible gamers show that not only is gaming for everyone, but it can also be a key to staying mentally sharp and socially connected as you age. Through their shared passion for gaming, the Silver Snipers have built a supportive community and combat feelings of isolation, while keeping their minds active and engaged. It's a great reminder that hobbies like gaming can be a powerful tool for maintaining mental well-being, no matter your age.

The Immaturity Stereotype: What Do Naysayers Think is "Mature"?

Here’s where my frustration comes in: I find it ridiculous that people still call hobbies like gaming or collecting toys "immature." What, exactly, do they think makes someone mature? Is it spending your weekends drinking or reading business magazines all day? Come on. True maturity isn't defined by your hobbies; it’s defined by how you handle your responsibilities.

Paying your bills, taking care of your loved ones, managing your life—that’s maturity. If you’re taking care of your duties, there’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t indulge in your hobbies. If playing games or collecting brings you joy, who has the right to judge? We need to stop pretending that growing up means abandoning the things we love. It’s about balance, not restricting ourselves based on outdated societal expectations.

The Example for Future Generations

Embracing our hobbies also sets an excellent example for future generations. By continuing to pursue activities like gaming or collecting, we’re showing younger generations that it’s okay to enjoy what they love, no matter their age. Creativity, fun, and play should never be outgrown, and children benefit from seeing adults who understand the importance of balance in life.

It’s important to show kids that hobbies are not something they need to abandon to be “mature.” Instead, they should learn that finding joy in life’s passions is essential to long-term happiness and mental well-being.

Conclusion: Follow Your Hobbies—They Matter

At the end of the day, hobbies like gaming, collecting toys, and watching anime are not immature. They are outlets for creativity, stress relief, and personal growth. In a world that demands constant seriousness and responsibility, these hobbies provide a necessary balance. So if you’re someone who loves video games, toys, or TTRPGs, embrace it unapologetically.

We should all encourage one another to pursue what makes us happy—because life’s too short to worry about outdated notions of maturity. Play your games, build your collections, and enjoy your hobbies with pride.

Why GMs and Solo Players Should Try Other Systems

It’s no secret that Dungeons & Dragons 5e has become the face of tabletop role-playing games for many people, especially those who started in the last decade. 5e is known for being beginner-friendly and straightforward, which is why it has captured such a large audience. But with that comes a certain level of attachment. For many, it’s not just the game they play—it’s the game that introduced them to the entire hobby. This creates a kind of “team D&D” mentality, where anything outside of 5e can feel off-brand, intimidating, or just not worth the effort.

But here’s the thing: for GMs and especially solo players, trying out different systems can have a massive impact on how you approach not only your games in general but even your D&D sessions. Now, I’m not saying you have to abandon 5e—far from it! In fact, broadening your horizons can help you appreciate 5e more while also bringing fresh ideas and perspectives to the table.
One of the reasons people resist trying other systems is that learning D&D might have felt like a huge effort in itself. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with something, why venture into the unknown? I get that. But the truth is, exploring new systems isn’t just about learning new rules—it’s about discovering different ways to handle the same aspects of role-playing games. This can be incredibly beneficial for GMs, who are always looking for new ideas, and for solo players, who love tinkering with systems to find their perfect fit.

Personally, I’ve found that rules-light systems work better for my solo play sessions. They give me the flexibility to focus more on narrative and immersion rather than juggling complex mechanics. But that’s just me. Some people prefer the other end of the spectrum, and that’s what makes solo role-playing so great—you can experiment until you find what works for you. Systems like World of Darkness, Cypher, and Dungeon World have all influenced how I think about storytelling, even though I still love to DM 5e or Pathfinder for others.

The benefits of trying other systems are clear. First, you’ll see that there’s more than one way to tackle the same elements of a game. Every system has its own take on mechanics like combat, skill checks, and role-playing, and exploring those can give you new insights into what works best for your group—or just for you. Second, trying different systems lets you compare. What works for your style of play? What doesn’t? And for solo gamers, this comparison is even more vital because you’re constantly fine-tuning your experience.

Finally, when you have a palette of different systems under your belt, you can start painting your own picture. You might not design an entirely new game, but you’ll definitely find yourself incorporating new ideas into your sessions, whether that’s in role-playing, world-building, or story development. Even if you prefer to run D&D 5e rules as written, you’ll find that trying other systems can influence your approach in subtle but powerful ways.

In the end, there’s no pressure to try dozens of new systems just for the sake of it. But for those who enjoy diving deeper into the world of role-playing games, there’s a lot to be gained by broadening your horizons. It can be as simple as reading a new rulebook or as immersive as diving headfirst into a different game. Either way, it’s all about expanding your understanding and making your games—whether they’re D&D or something else—that much better. And for solo players, the benefits are even more apparent.

How real is your D&D character?

The concept of character autonomy in D&D challenges our understanding of free will, personality, and identity. As players navigate the adventures of their characters, they embark on a journey that can reshape their own minds and hearts. Ultimately, how much do our fictional personas influence who we truly are? The exploration of this question not only deepens our appreciation for the art of role-playing but also invites us to reflect on the nature of our own consciousness and the stories we live by.

How autonomous are these characters? Do they possess free will, or are they merely extensions of the players' minds?

A D&D character is a complex entity, born from a player's imagination and molded by the game's rules and settings. This character lives, makes decisions, and acts, all under the player's control. But what does autonomy mean for such a character, especially when the player's own autonomy is questioned by modern science?

Philosophers have long debated the existence of free will. Descartes' famous assertion, "I think, therefore I am," suggests a conscious self-awareness that dictates our actions. However, modern neuroscience challenges this notion, suggesting our decisions might be predetermined by neural processes. Dr. Robert Sapolsky, a prominent neuroendocrinologist, argues that free will is an illusion. According to Sapolsky, our choices and behaviors are entirely determined by a complex interplay of genetics, environment, and neurobiology. He posits that what we perceive as free will is actually the result of numerous factors beyond our control, including our evolutionary history, genetic makeup, and even the cultural influences of our ancestors. If players themselves lack free will, what does that imply for the characters they control in D&D?

The influence of a player character (PC) on the player in Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) can be profound, shaping the player's thoughts, behaviors, and even personality. Research in psychology suggests that role-playing can lead to significant changes in self-perception and identity. For instance, embodying a character with particular traits and moral values can cause players to internalize these characteristics, affecting their real-world attitudes and actions. This phenomenon, known as the Proteus Effect, illustrates how digital and imaginary personas can impact an individual's behavior in reality​ ​. Moreover, players often develop strong emotional connections to their characters, which can lead to increased empathy and understanding of diverse perspectives​. This blending of identities between player and character highlights the powerful role of immersive gaming experiences in personal development and social behavior​.

By considering the philosophical, psychological, and emotional dimensions of character autonomy, we can gain a richer understanding of both our fictional characters and ourselves. Whether a character is an autonomous entity or a mere extension of the player's mind, the journey of role-playing offers a unique lens through which to explore the complexities of human experience.

Dungeons and Dragons editions matter?

Recently, I watched a video where someone asserted that Dungeons and Dragons (and d20 system variants) editions don't really matter.

I think there is something lost in his definition of what Dungeons and Dragons is because his definition is very broad. This person says that Dungeons and Dragons, any edition, including Pathfinder, ICRPG, Dungeon Crawl Classics, the OSR, etc., are all compatible with each other. From the point of view of this person, what matters is the roleplaying part of the TTRPG and rules and mechanics should be adapted to his style; therefore, he uses a very basic version of Dungeons and Dragons.

Under that premise, you actually don't even need rules.

But there is another kind of player, myself and people I know who like rules, who like to play by the rules, and play the rules, meaning finding combinations, min-maxing, etc., which of course doesn't stop us from roleplay.

Also when I go to a public event and there is a game of Pathfinder 1E I expect to play Pathfinder 1E not a simplified version of Dungeons and dragons. Is like being invited to play Monopoly and once on the table dicover they are actually playing Monopoly Jr.

And everything is compatible if you are not using those systems' rules but your simplified homebrew d20 system. But for those who like systems and the "game" part of roleplaying games, it is complicated to adapt stuff from one edition to another. Therefore, if by compatible you mean spending hours adapting the material, we could say Dungeons and Dragons and World of Darkness or Warhammer RPG are compatible too.

In conclusion, it's easy to say editions don't matter if you don't actually use the mechanics of those editions.

Do Editions Matter in Tabletop Roleplaying Games?

 

Introduction:

Do editions matter in tabletop roleplaying games? I believe that while compatible rule systems can allow for easy cross-play and conversions between different games, there are still reasons why specific editions may be important. Let's explore some of the factors that can make certain editions more appealing to players.

The Joy of Complexity and Balance:

Some players love the complexity and balance found in specific game editions. These players enjoy the challenge of mastering a particular system and may feel more invested in the game as a result. When it comes to choosing a role-playing game and it's edition, the intricacies of the rule system or lack of it can be a significant factor for these players.

Purpose and Flavor:

Different game editions can be designed with a specific purpose or flavor in mind, which can influence a player's preference. For example, one edition might emphasize exploration and mystery, while another focuses on combat and tactical decision-making. These unique flavors can make certain editions more appealing to players, depending on their interests and play-style.

The Language of Rule Systems:

Complex rule systems are like a language. Players may expect to play a specific game edition when joining a public game at a convention for example. For many gamers, being fluent in the "language" of a particular edition can be a point of pride and a way to connect with other players who share the same passion.

Fun for the Group:

Ultimately, what is fun for the group should be the priority when choosing a tabletop role-playing game edition to play. After all, the primary goal of any role-playing game is to have a blast with friends and fellow gamers. While edition preferences may vary, the most important thing is to find a game that everyone can enjoy together.

Conclusion:

While it's true that compatible rule systems can allow for cross-play and conversions between different games, there are several reasons why editions can matter in tabletop role-playing games. From complexity and balance to purpose and flavor, various factors can make specific editions more appealing to players. In the end, though, it's all about having fun and creating memorable experiences with your gaming group.