Phlostin Pair of Dice

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  • The Quiet Theft of Dice and Time

    The Quiet Theft of Dice and Time

    How Growing Older Changes Tabletop Roleplaying Games

    There is a strange kind of grief that tabletop roleplaying gamers rarely talk about openly. It is not the loss of imagination. It is not the loss of passion. Most of us still light up at the sight of a new rulebook, a painted miniature, or the sound of dice rolling across a wooden table.

    The grief comes from losing time.

    Not all at once. Not dramatically. It disappears in fragments.

    A missed Friday session because of overtime at work.
    A campaign was delayed because someone’s child got sick.
    A game store is closing earlier than it used to.
    A friend is moving three states away.
    A group chat that slowly goes silent.

    One day, you realize the campaign that once met every week now struggles to gather once every three months.

    And somehow, that hurts more than expected.

    The Infinite Summers of Youth

    When we were younger, tabletop role-playing games existed in abundance. Time felt endless then.

    A six-hour Saturday session was normal.
    An all-night dungeon crawl was possible.
    Spending an entire weekend debating rules, worldbuilding kingdoms, or designing characters seemed effortless.

    Youth grants two things that adulthood slowly strips away: unclaimed hours and shared availability.

    In school or college, entire friend groups lived on roughly the same schedule. Even if life was chaotic, everyone was chaotic together. There was flexibility. Spontaneity. A sense that another game could always happen tomorrow.

    Back then, campaigns felt immortal.

    Before, it was normal for all your friends to have basically the same routine. Regardless of how crazy life got, you knew you were going through it with your group of friends. The routines allowed for some spontaneity. Flexibility. And a feeling that there would always be time for another game, at least one more day down the road.

    The table became a second home.

    Adulthood Becomes an Enemy of Scheduling

    As we age, the enemy is rarely disinterested. Most older gamers still desperately want to play.

    The problem is logistics.

    Adult life fractures time into tiny guarded territories:

    • careers,
    • spouses,
    • children,
    • errands,
    • aging parents,
    • health issues,
    • exhaustion.

    By the end of the week, even the things we love can begin to feel like obligations competing for survival.

    Scheduling a modern tabletop campaign among adults often resembles military coordination:

    • “I can do every other Thursday.”
    • “Not during softball season.”
    • “My kid has band competitions.”
    • “I’m on call that weekend.”
    • “Let’s postpone until next month.”

    And sometimes next month never arrives.

    What once happened naturally now requires planning spreadsheets, shared calendars, Discord servers, and negotiation worthy of international diplomacy.

    The Emotional Weight of the Empty Chair

    The older we get, the more symbolic the game table becomes.

    An empty chair no longer just means a missing player. It represents distance, changing priorities, or time itself moving forward.

    Many longtime gamers can remember specific people tied to specific campaigns:

    • the forever Game Master who moved away,
    • the best friend who joined the military,
    • the player who became too busy after having children,
    • the friend who passed away.

    Old character sheets become artifacts.

    Rulebooks hold coffee stains from apartments nobody lives in anymore.

    A miniature can trigger memories stronger than photographs.

    Because tabletop gaming was never truly about the dice.

    It was about presence.

    Digital Gaming Changed the Equation, But Not Completely

    Virtual tabletops and online communication have kept many groups alive. Discord, Roll20, Foundry, and video calls have rescued countless campaigns from extinction.

    But digital convenience comes with tradeoffs.

    Online games are easier to schedule, yet harder to feel fully immersed in. The tactile rituals disappear:

    • passing snacks around the table,
    • hearing dice bounce,
    • reading body language,
    • collective laughter filling a room.

    In-person gaming creates shared physical memory. Online gaming preserves connection, but sometimes at a lower emotional resolution.

    Still, for many older gamers, online play is not a lesser option. It is the bridge that keeps friendships alive across marriages, careers, and continents.

    And that matters deeply.

    Older Gamers Play Differently

    Ironically, aging often makes us better role players.

    Younger players tend to chase power, mechanics, and victory. Older players increasingly value:

    • character depth,
    • emotional storytelling,
    • meaningful choices,
    • camaraderie,
    • escapism,
    • time spent together.

    A forty-year-old gamer often approaches the table differently than a teenager.

    There is less urgency to “win.”

    More appreciation for simply being there.

    Sessions become rarer, but often more meaningful.

    Older players understand mortality, disappointment, compromise, sacrifice, and responsibility in ways younger players cannot yet fully grasp. Those experiences deepen storytelling.

    The campaigns may be shorter.

    But the roleplaying can become richer.

    The Real Magic Was Never the Fantasy World

    At some point, most gamers realize the campaign setting was only part of the experience.

    The true magic was gathering people together consistently in a world that increasingly pulls them apart.

    Tabletop roleplaying games ask something modern adulthood struggles to provide:

    • uninterrupted attention,
    • imagination,
    • vulnerability,
    • shared time.

    In a distracted and overworked culture, sitting around a table for four hours pretending to be heroes is almost rebellious.

    That may be why losing gaming time hurts so much.

    It is not merely losing a hobby.

    It is losing one of the few places where friendship, creativity, and presence existed without interruption.

    Holding Onto the Table

    Yet despite all this, tabletop gaming survives.

    These groups are always adapting.

    Campaigns become monthly instead of weekly. Sessions shrink from eight hours to three. Parents bring children into the hobby. Old friends reconnect online after years apart.

    The table changes shape, but it endures.

    And maybe that is part of growing older, too: learning that permanence was never the point.

    The campaign will eventually end.
    Characters will retire.
    People will move on.

    But for a few hours around a table, whether it’s physical or digital, time slows down again.

    Dice roll.

    Stories unfold.

    Friends laugh like they are twenty years younger.

    And for a little while, nothing has really been lost at all.

  • To AI or not to AI

    To AI or not to AI

    “To AI, or not to AI” (an AI adaptation)

    To AI, or not to AI—that is the question:
    Whether ’tis wiser in the mind to suffer
    The slings and arrows of unassisted thought,
    Or to take arms against a sea of problems
    And, by assistance, end them. To work—alone—
    No more; and by that strain to say we end
    The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
    That flesh and mind are heir to—’tis a consummation
    Devoutly to be wish’d. To work—with aid—
    To solve, perchance to lose—ay, there’s the rub:
    For in that aid of AI what self may fade,
    When we have shuffled off our native toil,
    Must give us pause—there’s the respect
    That makes calamity of so long a life.

    For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
    The slow grind of thought, the lone invention,
    The pangs of doubt, the law’s delay,
    The insolence of error, and the spurns
    That patient merit of the unassisted takes,
    When he himself might his quietus make
    With but a prompt? Who would burdens bear,
    To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
    But that the dread of something after—loss
    Of self, perhaps, in circuits not our own—
    The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
    No author returns, puzzles the will,
    And makes us rather bear those ills we have
    Than fly to others that we know not of?

    Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
    And thus the native hue of resolution
    Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought,
    And enterprises of great pitch and moment
    With this regard their currents turn awry
    And lose the name of action.

    When asked, ChatGPT offers this explanation to Hamlet’s “To Be or Not to Be” soliloquy:

    Core idea: Existential crisis—whether it’s better to endure life or escape it.

    Hamlet debates life vs. death, not impulsively, but philosophically. He fears the unknown of death more than the pain of living, which keeps him stuck.

    Today’s context:
    This is the classic modern existential spiral.
    Questions like:

    • What’s the point of all this?
    • Is enduring suffering meaningful, or just… enduring?
    • Why keep going?

    It also reflects how uncertainty (about the future, death, consequences) keeps people from making drastic choices—even when they’re deeply unhappy.

    I further asked ChatGPT to write an adaptation to focus on AI, as the eternal question. ChatGPT offered that while it could not provide any commentary on ending anyone’s life, it could “shift it to a modern ‘AI vs. not-AI’ question—focused on dependence, identity, and what we lose or gain by leaning on it.”

    Well, Alice, we are well down the rabbit hole now, working to sort out our thoughts and desires in a digital world.

    Over the years, I have had many story ideas, often sparked by late-night reflections or interactions with friends. Creative discussions used to flow more easily when we all had more free time, but that’s become rare as life gets busier.

    On the topic of AI, I recently had a conversation with my brother-in-law and one of my best friends for many years. He has also had many, many stories in the works and maintains a long-time (semi-)active running table-top role-playing game (TTRPG) of the lounge-lizard-and-cave-dweller variety.

    I told him at dinner recently, “You know, one of these days I will have to talk to you about AI.”

    To which he replied, “Thom, you are one of my longest friends, and it is because of that long-standing friendship and respect that I will not talk to you about AI.”

    Well, that escalated quickly. I quickly shifted topics and dropped that topic like it was a lump of white phosphorus in my hand.

    In his defense, this was a fact I had previously known but had forgotten at that time. A dear friend of his had been a victim of a heinous crime in the AI realm. To this day, it grated against his morals. As well it should.

    As all great friends do, our lives have gone our different paths, and we have had our differences. I married his sister, so he can’t get that far away.

    But the topic of AI raises the question: Is there a place for it in the creative industry? Will it go away as a passing fad, or like poor Pandora, will we be left standing in shock as the horrors spew forth, and finally, we dream that the final thing to still out of the jar might be humanity’s “hope”?

    My own TTRPG adventures are set in the science-fiction system of Traveller. Following that, I found a Skool site for “AI Game Master Academy”. There, the idea of AI as a tool for game masters is explored. Mostly, however, the courses covered discuss the pitfalls and the definitions of what AI can and cannot do in a game. Also, the morality of using AI is discussed at great length.

    Just because you can write a prompt, “Write me a great Traveller RPG adventure,” does not mean you should run roughshod over their intellectual property. Whether you intend to sell it or not. In general, you should change that to “Write me a great science fiction RPG adventure.” It may still harken back to the knowledge of Traveller, Space Opera, or other science fiction RPGs that it was trained in and is familiar with, but leaving out the specific name increases the chance of creating something that is not the intellectual property of others. Ultimately, ‘morality’ is the key.

    Last week, I reached out to my brother-in-law, and we had a good discussion about this article and his resistance to AI. He professed to be a late adopter. Not quite a Luddite, mind you, but a more cautious practitioner of technological wonders. And I don’t blame him there. Does the environment reel from the amount of cooling required as we power AI? Yes. Yes, it does. But that is another discussion and for the future to tell. After all, when we started learning our hobbies, didn’t we make mistakes and then learn to correct them to make better widgets?

    Anyway, straying off topic here. Should I use AI? To be honest, stepping into the AI field, I have found myself in a massive cavern of new things to learn. Perhaps I am a bit of a late adopter, too. Just dipping my toe into the AI field, I have found a surge of interest in my writing again. I am not trying to write a 70,000-word novel completely by AI. That would be foolish and truly be the epitome of AI Slop, to use the current parlance.

    Have we seen this level of culture-changing events happen before? Of course. For a start, in the mid-1400’s, Johannes Gutenberg invented the first movable-type printing press. Today, we do not think too much about that, since we can type a whole book on the computer, print it on our home printer, and make it look exactly how we want. But in that time, a massive industry of scribes, copyists, and monks existed, making their living by painstakingly copying the written word to create whole new books. For those few who could read, a book was a wondrous artifact of human dedication and focus.

    There are tons more references, and we are still working to clean up after many of them. At least we don’t have to worry about the stench of manure in the streets or have to wipe it from our feet, but we are still working to make the horseless carriage less climate-changing. Again, the automobile and power plant emissions are a topic for another day, but we have to remember where we came from to see how good we have it today. In my own memory, I have seen the smog of Los Angeles go from a toxic mess that ruined people’s lungs to levels today where Los Angeles is again a tolerable place, at least for air breathability.

    AI is here to stay; we cannot escape that. What we can do is choose to use this tool in a moral way to ensure that our Humanity stays intact. There will always be bad actors among us. I fear that is what it means to be Human. There are lazy people about. Years ago, a good friend of mine was a victim of a plagiarist. He had copied a work of hers and sold it as his own before she finished it. She took the high road and was not upset terribly about the theft. She no longer trusted him as a friend and knew he would always be a shallow, poor person. She would be able to create more art, at a moment’s notice, but he would always have to wait for someone to look the other way and steal their work.

    An AI story in its abuse of artwork? Very much so, it is so much easier for us to steal someone’s style and possibly soul for our own works, but at the end of the day, it is up to each and every one of us to strive to be better people and find that imaginative spark that lives inside each of us. We should raise our children and ourselves to be artists and not plagiarists. Even Robert Heinlein wrote a congratulatory letter to David Gerrold for his Star Trek episode script, noting that they “both owed something to Ellis Parker Butler… and possibly Noah.”

    Now we must learn to see AI for what it is: a tool. And use it properly.

  • Writing characters

    Writing characters

    So, I ask the Great and Powerful Oz, “In writing a story or book, how can I keep characters from feeling bland or two dimensional?”

    Great question—and honestly one of the biggest hurdles in writing. Flat characters usually come from predictability or lack of tension inside the character. The fix is less about adding detail and more about adding contradiction, pressure, and choice.

    Here are practical ways to make characters feel real and three-dimensional:

    1. Build Them Around Contradictions

    Real people are inconsistent. That’s where depth lives.

    • Brave in public, terrified in private
    • Kind to strangers, cruel to family
    • Moral… except when it costs them something

    👉 Instead of asking “Who are they?” ask:
    “Where do they contradict themselves?”

    2. Give Them a Want vs. Need Gap

    This is one of the most powerful tools.

    • Want = what they think will fix their life
    • Need = what actually will

    Example:

    • Want: Revenge
    • Need: Letting go / forgiveness

    Story tension comes from the character chasing the wrong thing.

    3. Tie Flaws to Backstory (Cause → Effect)

    Flaws shouldn’t be random—they should make sense.

    Instead of:

    • “He’s bad at relationships”

    Try:

    • “He pushes people away because the last person he trusted betrayed him during a critical moment”

    Now the flaw:

    • Has history
    • Feels justified
    • Can evolve

    4. Force Hard Choices (This Is Key)

    Characters become interesting when they can’t have everything.

    Put them in situations where they must choose between:

    • Duty vs. love
    • Truth vs. safety
    • Loyalty vs. survival

    👉 A character is defined more by what they sacrifice than what they want.

    5. Let Them Be Wrong

    Flat characters are often too correct or too competent.

    Give them:

    • Misjudgments
    • Biases
    • Blind spots

    Let them act on those—and deal with consequences.

    6. Make Their Voice Specific

    Even without dialogue tags, you should know who’s speaking.

    Think about:

    • Vocabulary (formal? blunt? poetic?)
    • Rhythm (short bursts vs. long thoughts)
    • What they avoid talking about

    👉 A character’s voice reflects their worldview.

    7. Give Them Personal Stakes in Every Scene

    If a character could be replaced and nothing changes—they’re flat.

    Ask:

    • “Why does this moment matter to them specifically?”

    Even small scenes should connect to:

    • Their fear
    • Their goal
    • Their past

    8. Relationships Reveal Depth Faster Than Description

    Characters aren’t defined in isolation—they’re revealed through interaction.

    Show how they differ with:

    • A superior (respectful? resentful?)
    • A friend (honest? guarded?)
    • An enemy (cruel? reluctant?)

    👉 One character, multiple versions of themselves.

    9. Let Them Change (or Refuse To)

    A strong arc doesn’t mean becoming “better”—it means becoming different.

    • Positive arc → grows past flaw
    • Negative arc → gives into flaw
    • Flat arc → changes the world instead

    But something must shift:

    • Their belief
    • Their behavior
    • Their understanding

    10. Give Them a Private Truth They Won’t Say Out Loud

    This adds immediate depth.

    Ask:

    • “What do they believe deep down that they’d never admit?”

    Examples:

    • “I don’t deserve happiness”
    • “If I stop fighting, I’m nothing”

    This belief will quietly drive their actions.

    A Quick Character Depth Formula

    If you want something fast and usable:

    • Surface Trait: What people see
    • Hidden Fear: What they avoid
    • False Belief: What they think is true (but isn’t)
    • Pressure Point: What forces them to confront it

    Example (Quick Application)

    Instead of:

    A tough space captain

    Try:

    • Surface: Confident, decisive leader
    • Fear: Being responsible for another crew death
    • False belief: “If I show doubt, people die”
    • Contradiction: Secretly second-guesses every decision

    Now you’ve got tension in every scene.

  • FTL Drives in Sci-Fi

    FTL Drives in Sci-Fi

    In science fiction roleplaying games (primarily tabletop RPGs), faster-than-light (FTL) drives are fictional technologies designed to enable interstellar travel while supporting gameplay mechanics like adventure pacing, risks, and setting lore.

    They generally fall into broad categories like jump drives (discrete hops with fixed travel time), warp/hyper drives (continuous or dimensional travel with variable speed), portal/gate systems (infrastructure-dependent), and risky psychic/immaterial drives. Below is a table summarizing prominent types from major sci-fi RPGs, including how they work, key mechanics, and risks.

    FTL Drive TypeDescription & MechanicsExample RPG(s)Citations
    Jump DriveShip enters “Jump Space” (or misjump space) for ~1 week of travel, emerging up to 1-6 parsecs away. Requires massive fuel (liquid hydrogen), safe distance from gravity wells, and precise calculations. Misjumps possible.Traveller (and variants like Cepheus Engine, Mongoose Traveller)https://stargazersworld.com/2019/11/26/ftl-and-setting-design
    Drift EngineShip phases into the Drift (parallel plane) via beacons for navigation. Travel time: 1d6 days in-system or 5d6 days galaxy-wide (reduced by engine rating). Time passes equally in real space; can pause travel. Relies on beacon network; Vast (unbeaconed) areas slower/riskier.Starfinderhttps://www.aonsrd.com/Rules.aspx?ID=546
    Spike Drive“Drills” into subspace (psychic void where relativity doesn’t apply). Rating 1-6 determines max hexes jumped (sector map scale); travel ~1 day per hex/rating (e.g., 6 days/hex base). Requires charts; dangerous near planets.Stars Without Number (Revised)http://tpsrpg.blogspot.com/2017/12/spike-drive-ranges-and-how-they-affect.html
    Warp DriveTears into the Immaterium (Warp), a chaotic psychic realm. Variable travel time (days to weeks); needs Geller Field for protection and Navigator for guidance. Extremely perilous: daemons, storms, lost in Warp.Rogue Trader, Dark Heresy (Warhammer 40,000 RPGs)https://www.reddit.com/r/40krpg/comments/8nzpsr/entering_the_warp_under_fire_rt
    HyperdriveAccelerates into hyperspace (alternate dimension). Class rating (0.5-2.0+) determines speed (Class 1 fastest); travel time scales with distance (hours to days). Safer on established lanes; collisions/mass shadows risky.Star Wars RPGs (FFG Edge of the Empire, Saga Edition, etc.)https://forum.rpg.net/index.php?threads%2Fstar-wars-hyperdrive-and-interstellar-travel-times.874436%2F=
    Kearny-Fuchida (KF) DriveWarps spacetime for instantaneous jumps (30-120 light years). Charges capacitors over days/weeks at zenith/nadir points; DropShips hitch rides. No mid-jump control; piracy common during recharge.BattleTech (A Time of War RPG)https://1d6chan.miraheze.org/wiki/BattleTech_Spacecraft
    Portal/Icon DriveShips traverse ancient fixed portals/wormholes linking specific systems. Instant or short travel; requires portal network. Often precursor tech; can be blockaded/destroyed.Coriolis: The Third Horizonhttps://frank-mitchell.com/rpg/grand-unified-ftl/1-introduction
    BlinkspaceEnters blinkspace for near-instant transit between known access points. Primary FTL; limited by gates/horns.Lancer

    Other notable variants include:

    • Slipstream/Hyperspace Drives (e.g., Scum and Villainy): Flow-based dimensional travel with turbulence risks.
    • Psijump (Worlds of Indigo): Psi-powered Type 0 FTL.
    • No FTL (e.g., Eclipse Phase, 2300 AD): Relies on generation ships, cryosleep, or near-light drives for hard sci-fi.

    These designs balance exploration, combat, and narrative: fixed-time jumps encourage per-system adventures, while continuous drives enable galaxy-spanning plots.

  • The Hero’s Journey

    The Hero’s Journey (also called the monomyth) remains one of the most reliable and widely used story templates for writers. It creates natural emotional satisfaction, strong character transformation, and a sense of epic scope—even in non-fantasy genres.

    Joseph Campbell originally described ~17 stages in The Hero with a Thousand Faces (1949). Most modern writers use the streamlined 12-stage version popularized by Christopher Vogler in The Writer’s Journey (highly recommended if you want the deepest guide).

    This 12-step template maps cleanly onto a classic three-act structure:

    • Act 1 (Setup / Departure) ≈ 0–25%
    • Act 2 (Confrontation / Initiation) ≈ 25–75%
    • Act 3 (Resolution / Return) ≈ 75–100%

    The 12-Stage Hero’s Journey Template (Vogler Version)

    1. Ordinary World
      Show the hero’s normal life, flaws, wants vs. needs, and the world they’ll leave. Establishes stakes and contrast for later change.
    2. Call to Adventure
      An inciting incident disrupts the ordinary world: a problem, threat, opportunity, or message that demands action.
    3. Refusal of the Call
      The hero hesitates, fears change, makes excuses, or feels inadequate. Makes them relatable and raises tension.
    4. Meeting the Mentor
      Someone (person, book, spirit, memory…) gives advice, training, magical aid, confidence, or a literal tool. Not always a wise old person.
    5. Crossing the Threshold
      The hero commits irrevocably—leaves the ordinary world and enters the special/adventurous world. Act 1 ends here.
    6. Tests, Allies & Enemies
      Early adventures in the new world. The hero faces small challenges, meets friends, discovers enemies, learns rules, and acquires skills.
    7. Approach to the Inmost Cave
      The hero prepares for the central crisis. Often involves a plan, gathering final resources, a dark night of the soul, or entering the villain’s lair.
    8. The Ordeal
      The central crisis / lowest point. The hero faces death (literal or symbolic), confronts their greatest fear, “dies” in some way, and is reborn stronger. Midpoint or just after.
    9. Reward (Seizing the Sword)
      After surviving the ordeal, the hero claims the prize: knowledge, object, ally, power, insight, or reconciliation. A moment of celebration before things get worse again.
    10. The Road Back
      The hero begins the return journey, but the stakes rise—often the antagonist strikes back or the hero realizes the quest isn’t fully finished.
    11. Resurrection
      Final test / climax. The hero faces one last, decisive confrontation (often echoing the Ordeal but at higher stakes). Demonstrates final transformation.
    12. Return with the Elixir
      The hero returns to the ordinary world with the “elixir” (treasure, wisdom, peace, love, healed society, new perspective). Shows how they’ve changed the world and themselves. Ends with “freedom to live” — no longer afraid.

    Quick Reference Table (with Rough % Locations in a Novel/Script)

    Stage #NameActApprox. Story %Purpose
    1Ordinary World10–10%Establish normal life & contrast
    2Call to Adventure110–12%Inciting incident
    3Refusal of the Call112–15%Relatable fear
    4Meeting the Mentor115–20%Gift / encouragement
    5Crossing the Threshold120–25%Point of no return
    6Tests, Allies & Enemies225–50%World-building & growth
    7Approach to the Inmost Cave250–60%Preparation / dread
    8The Ordeal260–70%Darkest moment / death & rebirth
    9Reward270–75%Moment of victory & insight
    10The Road Back375–85%Pursuit / rising stakes
    11Resurrection385–95%Final battle / ultimate proof
    12Return with the Elixir395–100%Transformation complete, new normal

    Tips for Using This Template Effectively in 2025/2026

    • You don’t have to hit every stage rigidly — many great stories skip, combine, or reorder steps (especially Refusal, Mentor, or Road Back).
    • The real power is the inner journey: each external event should mirror an internal shift (fear → courage, selfishness → sacrifice, ignorance → wisdom).
    • Modern variations: Dan Harmon’s Story Circle (8 steps), Save the Cat beats, or 7-point story structure all overlap heavily with this.
    • Works brilliantly for fantasy/epic, but also romance, thrillers, coming-of-age, even non-fiction memoirs.

    If you want a more minimalist version, many writers boil it down to just five core beats:

    1. Hero in ordinary world
    2. Something forces them into adventure
    3. They struggle and grow through trials
    4. They face death and are reborn
    5. They return changed and bring something back

    Pick whichever scale feels right for your project. The 12-stage version gives the most detailed roadmap without being overly prescriptive.

  • Gamer Burn-Out

    So, I was talking to Mike earlier today and thought I would ask what he thought, “After years or trying to get a group together for gaming, what drives exasperation when you start to create a character or adventure you stop and think, ‘Why even try? They will not get used.’”

    That feeling hits hard after years of trying to rally a group—it’s the emotional equivalent of prepping an elaborate dinner party only for everyone to cancel last-minute (or just ghost). You invest creativity, time, and hope into a character concept or adventure hook, and then the “Why bother?” voice kicks in because experience has taught you the payoff is unlikely.

    The core driver of that exasperation is usually repeated disappointment from unreliable commitment, which erodes motivation over time. Here’s what commonly fuels it in tabletop RPG circles:

    • Flakiness and no-shows become the norm: People get excited in the planning phase (“Yeah, let’s do this!”), but real life (work, family, fatigue, other hobbies, or just plain inertia) wins out. Sessions get postponed repeatedly until momentum dies. When you’ve poured effort into a character sheet, backstory, or even worldbuilding, and the group never materializes or fizzles after 1–2 sessions, it feels like wasted emotional labor. Many GMs and players describe it exactly like prepping a house for guests who don’t arrive—burnout follows.
    • Sunk cost without reciprocity: Character creation (especially in crunchy systems like D&D/Pathfinder) takes real effort—mechanics, flavor, art inspiration, etc. If the group doesn’t show the same investment (or show up at all), it creates imbalance. You start internalizing “My enthusiasm isn’t matched,” which turns into cynicism: “They won’t get used anyway, so why start?”
    • Pattern recognition from past attempts: After multiple cycles of “hype → character/adventure creation → scheduling hell → fade-out,” your brain protects itself by preemptively shutting down excitement. It’s a learned helplessness thing—why risk the disappointment again when history says it’ll end the same way?
    • Mismatched expectations in the group: Sometimes the issue isn’t total flakes, but differing commitment levels. One or two reliable players vs. a handful of casuals creates frustration. Or the group wants low-effort “show up and play” vibes, but you’re approaching it with deeper investment.

    It’s a super common pain point in the hobby—tons of long-time GMs and players talk about hitting this wall after years of herding cats. The exasperation isn’t just about the unused character; it’s grief for the social gaming experience you keep almost having but rarely get.

    If you’re still chasing it, a few things that help some people break the cycle:

    • Shift to ultra-low-commitment formats (one-shots, West Marches-style drop-in games, or systems with fast char-gen like Lasers & Feelings or Honey Heist).
    • Find/build a smaller, more reliable core group (even 2–3 committed people beat 6 flakes).
    • Treat character creation as its own fun hobby—some folks make characters just for the joy of it, like character commissions or writing prompts, without needing a table.
    • Or lean into the frustration and run something solo/co-GM’d with AI tools or play-by-post to scratch the itch without depending on others.

    You’re not alone in feeling this way—it’s one of the biggest silent killers of campaigns. What system or style have you been trying to get going lately? Maybe there’s a tweak that could make it less soul-crushing.

    I said I was not quite ready for a bit change in my gaming diet, at the moment. I added that one of my biggest issues with running games, lately, has been starting a game and psyching myself out and often calling the game off or flacking out myself. Currently in a game that I am playing in, I don’t seem to have the focus to play my character. Seemingly just going through the motions.

    That vicious cycle—hyping yourself up as GM only to bail from anxiety, then zoning out as a player—sounds exhausting, especially after years of group-wrangling frustration. It’s like your brain’s built-in sabotage mode: past flakes (yours and theirs) train it to expect failure, so it preempts with doubt or apathy. Good news? This is super common in the RPG scene, and there are concrete ways to hack it.

    Tackling the GM Psych-Out & Self-Flaking

    The root is often prep paralysis or imposter syndrome—overthinking “What if it’s not fun? What if I flop?”—leading to cancellation. Here’s a step-by-step to break it:

    1. Shrink the stakes brutally: Ditch epic campaigns. Commit to 15-30 minute “micro-sessions” or one-shots only. Use zero-prep tools like:
    • Free quick gens: Million Dollar Adventure or Perilous Wilds tables (OSR style, fits your grognard vibe).
    • Pre-mades: Start with Lost Mine of Phandelver (starter set) or OSR modules like Tomb of the Serpent Kings—plug-and-play, no worldbuilding guilt.
    1. Prep ritual to kill anxiety:
      • Step one, do this: 30 min before List 3 “win conditions” (e.g., “Players laugh once,” not “Perfect plot”). Why does this work? Shifts focus from perfection to presence.
      • Step two, do this: 10 min before Play hype playlist (e.g., RPG Tavern music) + deep breaths (4-7-8 technique: in 4, hold 7, out 8). Why does this work? Grounds nerves, builds momentum.
      • Step three, do this: At start Session 0 recap: “Expect improv, we’ll adapt—fun first.” Why does this work? Sets low-pressure tone.
    2. Accountability hacks: Tell 1-2 reliable players “Session in 1 hour—RSVP or it’s off.” Or run for online randos via Roll20/Foundry LFG (filter “one-shot”). If you flake, no big loss.

    Push through once or twice—the “just do it” momentum overrides the voice.

    Regaining Player Focus (The “Motions” Trap)

    Going autopilot? Likely character disconnect + general burnout. You’re not engaged because it feels rote.

    • Quick fix: Tweak mid-game: Chat your GM privately: “Loving the group, but my char’s flat—can we hook [backstory element] into the plot?” Or respec lightly (e.g., swap feats for fun ones). Revive via “character journal”—jot 1-2 secret goals per session. (Note: my current GM tried that once or twice, but situations got in the way and the plot point got left behind.)
    • ADHD/boredom counters (even if not diagnosed):
      • Issue: Wandering mind. Hack: Doodle maps/backstories during lulls; fidget tool (stress ball/dice).
      • Issue: Story drag. Hack: Propose side-quests: “My PC hears rumors of [personal hook].”
      • Issue: Fatigue Hack: Short breaks + snacks; switch to theater-of-mind over minis for flow.
    • If it’s the group: Bail guilt-free. “Life’s hectic, pausing—hit me for one-shots?”

    Bigger Picture: Rebuild Without the Pain

    • Burnout reset: 2-week hiatus. Solo play Ironsworn (free, no GM) or AI-maybe assisted.
    • Local scene: Look where there are local groups who may be seeking players.

    Start small today: Pick one FB group, post “Grognard seeking 3-player OSR one-shot.” Or reply here—what system’s your current player game? We can troubleshoot specifics or mock a session. You’ve got this; one win flips the script.

  • Creating a Custom Sci-Fi BRP TTRPG

    Creating a custom science fiction tabletop RPG from Basic RolePlaying (BRP) Game Universal Game Engine

    Understanding the Basic Roleplaying (BRP) System

    The Basic Roleplaying (BRP) Universal Game Engine, published by Chaosium, is a flexible d100-based system designed for adaptation across genres. It’s the core engine behind games like Call of Cthulhu (horror), RuneQuest (fantasy), and others. Its strength lies in modular rules for character creation, skills, combat, and optional mechanics like powers or vehicles, making it ideal for building a custom science fiction (sci-fi) tabletop RPG. The system emphasizes percentile rolls for resolution, where success depends on skill levels and situational modifiers. Since BRP is released under the Open RPG Creative (ORC) License, you can create and distribute custom games royalty-free, as long as you credit Chaosium and follow the license terms. This includes sci-fi adaptations, where you might incorporate elements like mutations, psychic powers, superpowers, advanced weapons, and spacecraft.

    To start, obtain the Basic Roleplaying: Universal Game Engine core book (available digitally or in print from Chaosium’s site or retailers like DriveThruRPG). It includes all foundational rules. You can also download the free BRP ORC Content Document (in RTF or PDF format) from Chaosium, which serves as a System Reference Document (SRD) for building your game.

    Steps to Create Your Custom Sci-Fi RPG

    Here’s a step-by-step guide to adapting BRP for a sci-fi setting. This draws from official design guidelines and community experiences, focusing on customization while keeping the game balanced and playable.

    1. Define Your Setting and Core Concept
      Begin by outlining the sci-fi world: Is it space opera (e.g., interstellar empires, alien alliances), cyberpunk (high-tech dystopias), hard sci-fi (realistic physics and exploration), or post-apocalyptic (ruined worlds with salvaged tech)? Decide on themes like exploration, combat, intrigue, or survival.
    • Think about player roles: Pilots, hackers, bio-engineers, or alien diplomats?
    • Identify key elements: Faster-than-light travel, AI companions, energy weapons, or genetic modifications.
      This step ensures the rules support the narrative. For example, if your game involves space battles, emphasize vehicle rules; for psychic phenomena, adapt the psychic powers module. Aim for a focused scope—start small to avoid overwhelming complexity.
    1. Master the Core Mechanics and Select Options
      BRP’s base system uses seven characteristics (Strength, Constitution, Size, Intelligence, Power, Dexterity, Appearance) rolled on 3d6 or similar, plus skills rated 1-100% (e.g., Pilot 50%). Actions resolve with a d100 roll under the relevant skill, modified by difficulty. Combat is deadly and tactical, with hit locations and damage types.
      Customize by choosing optional rules from the core book to fit sci-fi:
    • Character Creation: Add sci-fi backgrounds (e.g., cybernetic implants boosting stats) or professions (e.g., Spacer, Scientist). Replace fantasy skills like “Ride” with “Drive Spacecraft” or “Hack Computer.”
    • Powers and Abilities: Use mutations for alien races, psychic powers for telepaths, or superpowers for enhanced humans. For tech-heavy games, reskin magic as nanotechnology or AI hacks.
    • Combat and Equipment: Incorporate energy weapons (lasers with armor-piercing), armor (force fields), and vehicles (starships with hull points and maneuver ratings). Add rules for zero-gravity fights or hacking drones.
    • Other Modules: Include Sanity for cosmic horror elements (e.g., encountering eldritch aliens), or Fatigue for resource management in harsh environments like space stations.
      Scale power levels: Normal humans for gritty sci-fi, or epic tiers for heroes battling interstellar threats. Optional Rule Core BRP Use Sci-Fi Adaptation Example Hit Locations Tracks damage to body parts for realism Energy shields protect specific areas; cyber-limbs have separate hit points Psychic Powers Mental abilities like telekinesis Reskin as psionic implants or alien mind powers; add hacking as a “psychic” skill for digital realms Mutations Random physical changes Genetic engineering or radiation effects; e.g., extra limbs for multi-tasking in zero-G Vehicles Rules for chases and combat Expand to spaceships with FTL drives, weapon turrets, and sensor scans Sanity Mental stability loss Void madness from warp travel or AI corruption
    1. Build Custom Content
    • Characters and Races: Create templates for humans, aliens, androids, or uplifted animals. Assign characteristic bonuses (e.g., aliens with high Dexterity for agility in low-gravity).
    • Worldbuilding: Detail planets, factions, and tech levels. Use BRP’s equipment lists as a base—add items like plasma rifles, exosuits, or neural interfaces. For economies, adapt wealth rules to credits or resource scavenging.
    • Adventures and Campaigns: Design scenarios around sci-fi tropes (e.g., colony outbreaks, corporate espionage). Provide GM tools like random encounter tables for asteroid fields or alien artifacts.
      If basing on existing BRP games, import elements: e.g., borrow horror mechanics from Call of Cthulhu for a “space eldritch” vibe, or fantasy creatures from RuneQuest reskinned as bio-engineered monsters. Community examples include homebrew sci-fi campaigns with added rules for faster-than-light travel or AI companions.
    1. Balance, Playtest, and Refine
      Run test sessions with friends to check mechanics. Ensure sci-fi elements don’t unbalance core BRP lethality—e.g., high-tech armor shouldn’t make combat trivial. Adjust difficulties (e.g., hard sci-fi might penalize rolls in vacuum). Gather feedback on fun factor: Does hacking feel engaging? Are space chases exciting?
      Iterate: Simplify overcomplicated rules, as BRP shines in streamlined play. Tools like spreadsheets can help model probabilities for d100 rolls.
    2. Publish or Share Your Game
      Format your rules into a PDF or booklet. Use the ORC License notice in your document. Distribute via platforms like DriveThruRPG, itch.io, or forums like Reddit’s r/rpg. For inspiration, check existing sci-fi BRP products on DriveThruRPG, such as apocalyptic settings with custom conditions.

    Tips for Success

    • Keep It Compatible: Stick close to core BRP for easy integration with other games—players familiar with Call of Cthulhu can jump in quickly.
    • Genre Blending: Sci-fi pairs well with BRP’s optional horror or mythic elements (e.g., ancient alien ruins with Sanity-draining secrets).
    • Community Resources: Join forums like basicroleplaying.org or Reddit’s r/rpg for advice on homebrew sci-fi. Watch design videos from Chaosium’s Jason Durall for deep dives on applying BRP to original settings.
    • Avoid Overkill: Only add rules that enhance your sci-fi theme—BRP’s modularity means you can start simple and expand.

  • FTL Drives SF RPGs

    Faster-Than-Light (FTL) Drives in Science Fiction RPGs

    In science fiction role-playing games, various faster-than-light (FTL) drive systems allow for interstellar exploration and adventure, while introducing engaging gameplay elements such as travel hazards, resource management for fuel, skill-based navigation challenges, jump mishaps, random encounters, and tactical bottlenecks. These mechanics borrow from common sci-fi tropes but are specifically adapted to suit RPG play—frequently featuring discontinuous travel (e.g., instantaneous jumps followed by cooldown periods) to avoid issues like nonstop FTL battles or instantaneous galaxy-wide dominance. None of these drives are truly realistic, as they all contravene relativity, though several pay homage to concepts from theoretical physics, such as Alcubierre warp bubbles or wormholes.

    Here’s a categorized table of common types, with descriptions, examples, and RPG hooks:

    TypeDescriptionSci-Fi/RPG ExamplesRPG Hooks (Pros/Cons/Mechanics)
    Jump/Spike DriveShip “jumps” to a pre-calculated point up to X parsecs away via hyperspace or folded space; takes ~1 week per jump. Needs massive fuel (hydrogen), precise astrogation.Traveller/Cepheus Engine (Jump-1 to Jump-6); Stars Without Number (Spike Drive).Pros: Predictable travel time; Cons: 168-hour charge/refuel, misjumps (stranded, damaged); Mechanics: Pilot/Navigation rolls, fuel scarcity drives plots.
    Drift/Hyperspace EngineEnters parallel dimension (Drift/hyperspace) where distances are shorter; continuous travel but with random duration. Beacons aid navigation.Starfinder (Drift Engine: 1d6 days in-system, 5d6 galaxy-wide). Star Wars hyperdrive (inspired RPGs).Pros: Flexible speeds; Cons: Planar encounters, beacon dependence; Mechanics: Random travel time, Drift storms/daemons.
    Warp DriveWarps spacetime (contracts ahead, expands behind) for continuous FTL; Alcubierre-inspired bubble.Warhammer 40k Rogue Trader (Warp travel via Immaterium: navigator-guided, variable time). Star Trek (in many RPGs); Stutterwarp (short hops: Traveller 2300AD).Pros: Combat-usable; Cons: Psychic navigation, Warp storms/daemon incursions; Mechanics: Sanity loss, encounter tables (e.g., 100+ in Rogue Trader).
    Wormhole/Gate DriveTravels via artificial/natural tunnels or fixed portals connecting points.Babylon 5 jumpgates (inspired RPGs); Mothership (Jump Drives: hex-rated). Stargate network.Pros: Instant; Cons: Fixed routes, sabotage/vulnerable stations; Mechanics: Gate control wars, emergence velocity mismatches.
    Space-Fold/Probability DriveFolds space or shifts quantum probabilities for instant/shortcut travel.Dune (Holtzman/spice-fold, in RPG adaptations); Infinite Improbability (Hitchhiker’s Guide parodies).Pros: No fuel; Cons: Random destinations, reality-warping side effects; Mechanics: Psionic navigator rolls, “bloom” events.
    Exotic/Alternate DimensionTunnels through hell/other realms or inertialess fields.Event Horizon (gravity drive to hell); Flux Drive (singularity edge, psychosis risk).Pros: High speed; Cons: Corruption/insanity; Mechanics: Sanity checks, demonic pacts.

    Additional Notes

    • No FTL Settings: Eclipse Phase (hard sci-fi: solar-system only, no drives; uses gates/slowboats). Mothership emphasizes horror over FTL reliability.
    • GM Tips: Limit FTL to create stakes—e.g., Jump Drives prevent system-hopping combat; Warp adds horror. Scale by tech level (e.g., Jump-1 for frontiers). For balance, add cooldowns, fuel, or “no FTL comms” to avoid instant coordination.
    • Theoretical Inspirations: Many borrow Alcubierre (warp bubble), wormholes (Einstein-Rosen), or hyperspace (extra dimensions).

    Mix and match for your campaign—e.g., a Traveller game with Warp risks for variety!

  • Using Obsidian

    Grokology, post 2

    I asked Grok, “Creating an Obsidian starting a traveller vault.” It replied:

    To set up an Obsidian vault for a Traveller (likely Mongoose Traveller 2e) campaign, start with these basics and tailor for sci-fi elements like sectors, subsectors, worlds, ships, and characters.

    Step 1: Create the Vault

    1. Download and install Obsidian (free at obsidian.md).
    2. Open Obsidian → Click “Create new vault” → Choose a folder location → Name it (e.g., “Traveller Campaign”).
    3. This creates an empty vault (just a folder of Markdown files).

    Step 2: Recommended Folder Structure

    Organize with folders to keep things manageable. Traveller campaigns involve vast universes, so prioritize linking notes over strict folders. A solid starting structure:

    • 01 Campaign — Overview, current adventure, session logs.
    • 02 Characters — PCs and major NPCs (one note per character).
    • 03 Ships — Ship designs, decks, crew rosters.
    • 04 Worlds & Sectors — Subfolders for sectors/subsectors, one note per world (with UWP codes, trade classifications).
    • 05 Factions & Organizations — Imperium, corporations, pirate groups.
    • 06 Rules & References — House rules, quick refs, skill lists.
    • 07 Sessions — One note per session (prep + actual play logs).
    • 08 Assets — Images, maps, PDFs (embed Traveller maps here).
    • Templates — Store note templates.
    • Attachments — For larger files.

    Use Maps of Content (MOC) notes like “Sector – Spinward Marches.md” that link to all related world notes.

    Step 3: Essential Community Plugins

    Enable community plugins (Settings → Community plugins → Browse → Install & Enable):

    • Core recommendations:
      • Dataview → Query and list notes (e.g., all worlds with TL 12+).
      • Templater or QuickAdd → Fast note creation from templates.
      • Canvas → Visual mind maps for subsectors, ship decks, or patron encounters.
      • Dice Roller → Roll 2d6 inline (e.g., [[roll:2d6+DM]] for task checks).
      • Advanced Tables → Easier table editing for trade goods, skills.
    • TTRPG-specific:
      • RPG Manager → System-agnostic campaign manager (adventures, sessions, NPCs, relationships—highly recommended for tracking Traveller’s sandbox style).
      • Initiative Tracker (Generic) → If you run combat (rare in Traveller, but useful for boarding actions).
      • Leaflet or Obsidian Leaflet → Interactive maps (pin worlds, link to notes; great with travellermap.com exports).
      • Calendar & Periodic Notes → Track in-game time (jumps, travel dates).
    • Nice extras:
      • Banners or Iconize → Visual flair (e.g., banners for planet images).
      • Excalidraw or Excalibrain → Draw ship blueprints or relationship graphs.

    Step 4: Templates to Speed Things Up

    Create templates (in a Templates folder) for common Traveller elements:

    • World Template:
      # [[World Name]] (Hex: XXXX) UWP: X000000-0 ## Stats - Starport: - Size: - Atmosphere: - etc. ## Trade Codes ## Description ## Key Locations/NPCs ## Encounters
    • Character Template (for Travellers):
      # Name - Career (Terms) STR: DEX: END: INT: EDU: SOC: ## Skills ## Background/Events ## Connections
    • Ship Template:
      # Ship Name - Class Tonnage: Jump: Maneuver: Power: ## Crew ## Deck Plan [[canvas or image]] ## Cargo/Manifest

    Use Templater to insert these quickly.

    Step 5: Traveller-Specific Tips

    • Embed external tools → Link or embed travellermap.com posters (interactive sector maps). Use web view plugins for in-vault browsing.
    • World/Sector generation → If you generate worlds randomly, note UWP directly and expand with descriptions.
    • Sandbox play → Use Canvases for “current subsector” with pins linking to world notes, rumors, patrons.
    • Session logs → Date notes with in-game dates for chronology.
    • Images → Download sector maps, ship deck plans, or alien art and embed them.

    Starter Templates to Jumpstart

    Download and open these as your base vault (or copy elements):

    Obsidian excels at Traveller’s emergent, interconnected style—links will create a web of your universe over time. Start simple, add plugins as needed, and iterate. If you’re running Mongoose 2e, focus on ship/world notes first. Enjoy the Far Future! 🚀

  • RAW vs RAI

    Grokology, post 1

    I asked Grok, “What is the difference between rules as written and rules as intended?” It replied:

    Rules as Written (RAW) refers to interpreting and applying the rules of a game exactly as they are stated in the official rulebook, taking the text literally and in context, without considering external factors like designer intent or “common sense” adjustments. It’s a strict, textual approach—often described as “lawyering” the rules.

    Rules as Intended (RAI), in contrast, focuses on what the game designers meant or aimed for with a rule, even if the written text doesn’t perfectly capture it. This might involve designer clarifications (e.g., errata, interviews, or official FAQs) or logical inference to align with the game’s overall spirit, especially when RAW leads to absurd, unbalanced, or clearly unintended outcomes.

    These terms are most commonly used in tabletop role-playing games (TTRPGs) like Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) or Pathfinder, as well as wargames like Warhammer 40k, where rules can be complex and occasionally poorly worded.

    Key Differences

    • RAW prioritizes objectivity and consistency: The rules stand alone, making it easier for tournaments or online discussions where everyone references the same text.
    • RAI allows flexibility: It addresses errors, oversights, or ambiguities in writing, aiming for balance and fun as envisioned by creators.
    • In ideal cases, RAW and RAI align perfectly. Disagreements arise when they don’t, often due to typos, incomplete text, or edge cases.

    Examples

    1. Half-Orc Weapon Familiarity (Pathfinder/D&D-inspired):
      RAW: A half-orc trait makes them proficient with weapons that have “orc” in the name, so literally, they could treat an “orca” (killer whale) or even “orchestra” as a martial weapon.
      RAI: Clearly meant for orc-themed weapons like “orc double axe”—not whales or musical groups. Absurd RAW interpretations are ignored.
    2. Reach Weapons on Diagonals (Pathfinder):
      RAW: Due to a missing text carryover from D&D 3.5, enemies could approach a reach weapon user diagonally without provoking attacks of opportunity.
      RAI: Intended to provoke, preserving the weapon’s tactical purpose; many groups rule this way or use errata.
    3. Peasant Railgun (D&D 3.5/Pathfinder exploit):
      RAW: Players line up peasants to pass an object instantly over huge distances, exploiting ready actions to “launch” it at massive speed/damage.
      RAI: Physics don’t work that way in the game; it’s an exploit, not intended functionality.

    Many communities note that “RAI” is sometimes misused as “Rules as I Interpret” (personal opinion) rather than actual designer intent. Official sources like D&D’s Jeremy Crawford (via Sage Advice) often clarify RAI to resolve debates.

    Ultimately, most groups blend both or prioritize “Rules as Fun” (RAF), with the game master having final say for smooth play.