Tales from the Design Table: Finding the Feeling
Resonance, Mechanics, and My First Steps in RPG Creation
Greetings, fellow adventurers and chroniclers of Tales from the Tabletop!
Welcome back to the space where we usually delve into solo playthroughs and narrative explorations. Today, however, we're shifting focus slightly. For a while now, alongside my usual writing, I’ve been quietly venturing into the intricate world of TTRPG design. It's a personal goal for this year to craft a small solo RPG, perhaps even submitting something for the 2025 One-Page RPG Jam. While I might have alluded to this in comments before, this marks the first time I'm dedicating a post to share my nascent thoughts on the design process itself.
Let me be clear from the outset: I am certainly no expert, merely an enthusiast captivated by the mechanics and artistry behind these games, driven by the desire to create something of my own. Consider this post a collection of personal reflections and early learnings, gleaned from the games I adore and the wisdom shared within the community. My hope is that these musings might spark inspiration or offer a kindred perspective to others embarking on their own creative RPG journeys.
The Core Quest: Designing for Resonance
What transforms a game from a mere set of rules into an experience that lingers long after the dice are stilled? This question has been a constant companion in my explorations, and the answer, I believe, lies in fostering player resonance. It’s that vital spark, that deep connection a player feels to the game’s world, their character, and the unfolding narrative – the emotional investment that makes the journey truly matter.
But how does one intentionally cultivate this resonance? My primary insight is that the process must begin with defining the core player experience. What central emotion or feeling are you aiming to evoke? Is it the thrill of discovery amidst ancient ruins? The creeping, pervasive dread of a world teetering on annihilation? The quiet satisfaction of community building? The stark tension of survival?
Identifying this core feeling becomes your lodestar, guiding every subsequent design decision. The game's theme, its setting, the chosen mechanics, even the visual presentation and layout – all should ideally converge to amplify and sustain this targeted emotional experience.
Consider Mörk Borg. Its core feeling is undoubtedly one of impending doom within a bleak, dying world. This resonates profoundly because every facet of the game is meticulously crafted to serve it: the harsh, art-punk aesthetic; the unforgiving mechanics where failure looms large; the character classes steeped in grim flavour; and, most significantly, the ominous Calendar of Nechrubel, relentlessly counting down the apocalypse with each passing session. The sense of doom isn't merely atmospheric; it’s mechanically woven into the game's very fabric.
Alternatively, examine Cartograph. Here, the core feeling is the pure joy of exploration and discovery. The gameplay loop itself embodies this: rolling dice onto the map page literally sculpts the emerging landscape, choosing a location prompts journaling about your findings, and the act of naming features personalises the world, making it uniquely yours. The mechanics become the act of discovery, forging resonance through the player's direct hand in creation.
Setting the Stage, Choosing the Tools: Theme, Setting, and Mechanics
Once you have that core feeling, the theme (the underlying concept or message) and the setting (the specific environment and atmosphere) provide the essential context and flavour. These elements are often the primary drivers of a game's unique identity. Troika!, for instance, conjures a feeling of wonderfully bizarre, unpredictable science-fantasy adventure. Its distinctiveness stems largely from its evocative backdrop of innumerable crystal spheres and its wonderfully strange character backgrounds, rather than solely from its mechanical framework.
Mechanics, therefore, serve as the crucial tools enabling players to interact with this themed setting and experience the intended core feeling. The type of system chosen profoundly shapes this interaction:
Kal-Arath employs a clear 2d6+Stat system, perfectly complementing its classic sword & sorcery adventure tone. The magic system, demanding demonic pacts with tangible consequences (Dooms), powerfully reinforces themes of power attained at significant cost.
Cairn, which draws inspiration from Into The Odd and Knave, opts for minimalist rules and a 'fiction-first' philosophy. Saves manage risk, combat is lethal but clearly telegraphed, and player capabilities are defined by their inventory rather than rigid classes. This cultivates a feeling of gritty exploration where player ingenuity and caution are paramount.
Load the Simulation puts its Chroma Cube system at the heart of its sci-fi training scenarios. This innovative mechanic uses three dice (YOU, FOE, ECO) to represent the constantly shifting interplay between your character, the challenges you face, and the volatile environment itself. As you navigate these simulations, the dice rolls organically generate both progress towards your mission goals and the detrimental effects of conditions like harm, stress, and friction, powerfully underscoring the game's themes of high-stakes pressure, fragile team dynamics, and the fundamental struggle to survive.
The mechanics must serve the feeling. In solo play, tools like oracles are vital extensions of this design philosophy. The carefully selected words within oracle tables (such as those found in Kal-Arath or Cartograph) are more than random prompts; they are deliberate thematic injections, designed to consistently reinforce the specific mood and atmosphere of the game's 'pocket universe'.
Defining the Boundaries: Scope and Constraints
A factor I've been particularly conscious of, given my ambition to create a one-page RPG, is scope. How vast is the world you intend to portray? What breadth must the mechanics encompass? The chosen format inherently dictates limitations, constraints that, paradoxically, can foster immense creativity.
A sprawling, multi-hundred-page sourcebook might aspire to simulate entire worlds, intricate economies, and complex political landscapes. A one-page RPG, by its very nature, cannot. This limitation necessitates a sharp, focused approach, concentrating on the absolute essence of the intended experience. It’s often difficult to simulate an entire world on a single page, yet capturing the intense atmosphere and interactions within a single, well-defined location, like a bustling tavern? That becomes achievable and potentially powerful.
This constraint encourages designers to 'zoom in', to distil the core feeling and build tightly around it. For my own developing project, which centres on the tension between a powerful internal struggle and the desperate need to act against an external threat like a siege, the intended one-page format demands focus. Every rule, every piece of text, must directly contribute to portraying this central conflict – the balancing act between inner turmoil and necessary outward action within the immediate setting. Extraneous elements must be pared away. Recognising and embracing these constraints early on helps define an achievable scope and prevents the design from becoming unwieldy.
A Simple Framework: Designing with Resonance as Your Guide
Distilling these reflections, here's a straightforward framework I'm attempting to follow, keeping that core feeling paramount. Perhaps elements of it might prove useful in your own creative endeavours:
Identify the Core Feeling: What single, primary emotion or experience do you want players to feel most intensely? Articulate it clearly. Excitement? Dread? Curiosity? Melancholy? This is your design's true north.
Choose a Resonant Theme & Setting: What central idea or question connects deeply to that core feeling? What kind of world best embodies and evokes both the feeling and the theme? Allow the feeling to shape your choices here. Crucially, does this direction personally ignite your passion? That enthusiasm is the fuel for the entire project.
Consider the Scope & Format: What form will this game take? A concise one-page zine? A slim booklet? A more substantial volume? Allow the chosen format's inherent limitations to help delineate the boundaries of your setting and mechanics. What can you realistically achieve and concentrate on within this defined space?
Select Your Tools (Mechanics): Now turn your attention to the rules. Which system best supports the desired Feeling, Theme, Setting, and Scope? How do the mechanics actively reinforce the core experience? (Consider: Does Cartograph's map-drawing mechanic directly serve the feeling of discovery? Does Mörk Borg's Misery Calendar embody impending doom? Does Cairn's fiction-first approach facilitate player-driven exploration?).
Centre Player Agency & Experience: How will players make choices that feel meaningful? How will their actions visibly impact the narrative and the game world? Ensure the rules empower the player experience, fostering immersion and investment, rather than merely dictating outcomes. Remember, the truly memorable moments often arise from the narrative consequences of player choices, not solely from the numerical result of a die roll.
Iterate and Refine: Playtest rigorously! Does the game actually feel the way you envisioned? Does it successfully deliver the intended core experience? Actively seek and listen to feedback. Be prepared—and willing—to adjust mechanics, refine setting details, or even clarify the theme based on the reality of play. Game design is an iterative process of discovery, refinement, and sometimes, radical rethinking.
Further Musings & Resources
Part of this learning journey has been absorbing insights from other designers sharing their process. Substack, in particular, has proven a fantastic resource for thoughtful game design discussions. If you're interested in delving deeper, here are a few posts I've personally found incredibly helpful and inspiring:
Skeleton Code Machine: Offers fantastic breakdowns, including this piece on one-page RPG design:
Whiskey, Blood & Dust: Explores various design concepts, like this reflection on mechanics and theme:
Learning from others is invaluable, and these are just a few examples of the great work being shared in the community.
The Goal: Inspiring Experiences
Ultimately, the enduring power of TTRPGs lies in the memorable moments they create and the resonant feelings they evoke. It’s rarely the specific dice roll we recall vividly, but the emergent story: the desperate gamble against impossible odds, the cleverly executed plan, the shocking betrayal, the unexpected moment of camaraderie, the poignant sacrifice.
As I continue this fledgling design journey, my personal aim is to keep this philosophy of resonance at the forefront. To start with the feeling, to choose themes and settings that genuinely excite me, and to select mechanics as purposeful instruments to bring that feeling vividly to life for the player.
If you, dear reader, have ever harboured thoughts of creating your own RPG, I hope these reflections might offer a spark of encouragement. Don't feel intimidated by a perceived need for expertise. Start with the feeling you wish to share, the experience you yearn to create. Let that emotional core be your steadfast guide. I firmly believe that focusing on creating that resonant connection is the most potent magic a designer possesses.
What makes a game truly resonate with you? I’d be fascinated to hear your thoughts in the comments!
The concept of resonance, if I understood correctly, could be considered the application to solo-RPGs of the wider concept of 'vibes', am I correct? In that case this has by far much more sense and consistency that the more generic and evanescent vibe... If I got it in the right sense, thanks a lot: I will review a post I am writing including your thoughtful digression about resonance!