The Rise of Solo Roleplay

Tabletop roleplaying games are often seen as a social experience. A group of friends gathered around a table, rolling dice, telling stories together. But sometimes that’s easier said than done. You might have a hard time finding a group to play with, or you might want to engage in the tabletop roleplaying game hobby on your own. What if I told you that tabletop roleplaying games don’t have to be social at all? What if you could explore deep narratives, make impactful choices, and experience roleplay entirely on your own?

When I decided to write this article, I had no personal experience with solo-friendly roleplaying games. I owned a few that could be played solo, but I never did. Neither had I bothered to learn much about the solo game hobby at all. In fact, writing this article became a motivation for me to explore an entirely new space.

Today, we are diving into the world of solo roleplaying games—how they work, where they came from, and why they have become such a growing trend. We will explore the history, the mechanics, some standout games, and what the future might hold. I am not an expert at this topic, and I will not pretend to be. This will cover my exploration and impression, and what I learned along the way.

THE ORIGINS OF SOLO ROLEPLAY

When we talk about solo roleplaying games, it is easy to think of them as a recent innovation—something born out of convenience, or even the pandemic. But in truth, solo games go back much further than many might expect. Long before Dungeons & Dragons, solo-friendly board games and war games were being played, and there was already an audience for solo experiences. When D&D later released in 1973, there was an interest in adapting the dungeon crawls for solo play.

In 1975, the first signs of a solo D&D experience appeared in The Strategic Review—a publication that would later become Dragon Magazine. There, Gary Gygax—creator of D&D—introduced mechanics that gave players the ability to explore dungeons without the need for a Dungeon Master. The tools were later expanded and implemented in the 1st Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide.

Around the same time, Tunnels & Trolls—written by Ken St. Andre and published by Flying Buffalo—emerged as a simpler, more approachable alternative to D&D. While not originally built for solo play, it was the first roleplaying game to publish dedicated solo modules, starting with Buffalo Castle in 1976.

Buffalo Castle was essentially a choose-your-own-adventure dungeon crawl, featuring about thirty pages of paragraphs containing choices and information to help navigate the dungeon. It starts with the following paragraph: “You are facing a large, gloomy castle, with three large wooden doors. If you choose to go in the left door, turn to 4A. If you wish to go in the center door, go to 8A. If you wish to go into the right door, turn to 12A.”

If I were to choose the left door, I would look up the paragraph marked 4A and read: “You walked down a short corridor, and entered a small room 10’ x 10’. There is a troll sitting on a treasure chest. He is looking at you in a bored fashion. If you wish to fight him, go to 7A. If you wish to try to talk to him, go to 14A. If you wish to try to walk by him, go to 18A. This is room number four.”

Let us say that I want to fight him, and go to 7A. That paragraph reads: “He has a monster rating of 40 (5 dice). If you kill him, go to 17A.” This is where the Tunnels & Trolls game mechanics come in.

Ken St. Andre wrote in 1979 that his system was meant to be more accessible and affordable than D&D. He highlighted the solo modules as a way for players to experience roleplaying without needing a group—something that resonated with many players. While D&D became the dominant roleplaying game in the US, it was actually Tunnels & Trolls that first gained international traction. Its use of standard six-sided dice made translation and distribution far easier than D&D’s more complex, polyhedral-dependent rules.

In parallel to all this, a different form of solo storytelling was evolving in the world of books. In 1969, even before Dungeons & Dragons, Edward Packard began developing a story format where readers could choose what happened next—an idea inspired by the bedtime stories he told his children. Although The Adventure of You on Sugarcane Island was not published until 1976, it is now considered one of the earliest examples of the gamebook genre. These interactive books offered players narrative choice and consequence, but without direct game mechanics.

In the early 1980s, interactive fiction and game mechanics merged with Fighting Fantasy by Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone, the founders of Games Workshop, and with Lone Wolf by Joe Dever. These were hybrid experiences where players combined Edward Packard’s style of interactive fiction with game mechanics and character progression.

As this was also the time when personal computers became commercially available, digital games like Colossal Cave Adventure (later Zork) brought text-based interactive fiction to a wider audience.

The development of Gary Gygax’s solo D&D rules, the Tunnels & Trolls modules like Buffalo Castle, and interactive fiction like the gamebooks all evolved seemingly in parallel. Some argue that the gamebooks were the first true solo roleplaying games. Others consider them more in the realm of interactive fiction than actual roleplaying games. Either way, while it is hard to name a singular “origin point” for the creation of solo roleplaying games, all these formats together helped shape what solo roleplaying would become.

The interest in solo roleplaying games and other solo adventures waned in the 1990s, very likely due to video games. However, with the rise of the Internet, something changed. Online communities began rediscovering old solo modules and gamebooks. Digital PDFs were shared, and discussions around solo-friendly mechanics started to reemerge in forums, blogs, and fan sites.

In the 2000s and 2010s, the solo roleplaying scene began its renaissance. New games were created specifically for solo play—some focusing on journaling, others on procedural worldbuilding, and some were hybrids that blurred the line between game and narrative tool. It was still a niche space, largely separated from the general tabletop roleplaying game community. However, even today, solo roleplaying games stand as a unique and thriving genre. This might be in part due to the pandemic.

THE PANDEMIC’S EFFECTS ON SOLO ROLEPLAYING GAMES

When the world locked down in early 2020, tabletop gaming—like so many hobbies—hit a wall. Game nights were cancelled. Groups disbanded. And for many, the social side of roleplaying simply vanished overnight.

As players searched for ways to stay connected to the tabletop roleplaying game hobby without access to in-person groups, virtual tabletops (VTTs) and solo roleplaying games emerged as lifelines. While VTTs were already well-known at the dawn of the pandemic, solo roleplaying games were new experiences for many, and they had an unprecedented boom in popularity during the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic.

With limited social interaction and an increased need for escapism, many players turned inward. Journaling games like The Wretched, Thousand Year Old Vampire, and Alone Among the Stars offered space for self-reflection, emotional processing, and creative release. These weren’t just games anymore; they became tools for managing anxiety and expressing uncertainty. I did not personally know of these three games until I started researching this article, but I kind of wish I had explored games like these during the pandemic.

Many players who engaged in these types of games during the pandemic might have found the ritual of writing, imagining, and rolling dice alone to provide a strange sense of agency or comfort at a time when the world felt unpredictable.

Solo games also gained traction for their ease of use. With fewer components and no need for scheduling, they could act as natural entry points for people new to the roleplaying game hobby. Journaling games and lightweight systems often required nothing more than a notebook, a deck of cards, or a couple of six-sided dice.

While some larger publishers, like Free League, made solo modes for bigger games, independent creators made smaller and more digestible solo experiences and sold or shared them on sites like Itch.io, which has long been a hub for indie games.

As creators saw growing interest in solo roleplaying, more games were designed from the ground up for solo play. Mechanics evolved. Game designers experimented with tarot cards, Jenga towers, story dice, audio recordings, and even Google Forms. By the end of the pandemic, solo roleplaying had transformed from fringe curiosity into a thriving subgenre.

THE MECHANICS OF SOLO ROLEPLAYING GAMES

I have already mentioned the early iterations of solo games and solo experiences, through gamebooks and solo dungeons. However, there have been several decades of innovation since. One of the most exciting things about modern solo roleplaying games is just how varied they are in how they work. Different games cater to different moods, creative needs, and player styles. However, at their core, most solo roleplaying games fall into a few broad mechanical categories.

Journaling games focus on introspection and storytelling through writing. Players often respond to prompts, record their character’s thoughts, and document unfolding events in the form of diary entries, letters, or logbooks. These games are often light on traditional mechanics and heavy on emotional or thematic exploration. Some use randomizers like dice or card draws to generate prompts, while others follow a more structured flow. Some examples of journaling games are Alone Among the Stars, Anamnesis, Quill, and Thousand Year Old Vampire.

Oracle-based games and GM emulators act in place of a Game Master by using randomized tables and “oracle” mechanics; systems that answer yes/no questions or guide narrative developments. A player might ask, “Does the merchant betray me?”—rolls some dice, consults a table, and receives an answer like, “Yes, but …” or “No, and something worse happens.” These tools are particularly useful when adapting traditional roleplaying systems for solo play. Some examples include Ironsworn, Mythic Game Master Emulator, Scarlet Heroes, and The Adventure Crafter.

In procedural exploration and dungeon crawling games, the structure comes from the environment. Unless they have other hybrid mechanics, procedural exploration or dungeon crawling games don’t normally have roleplaying as part of the game loop. Instead, players explore maps, draw cards, or roll dice to generate rooms, corridors, encounters, or entire story paths. These games often include light combat, random encounters, and resource tracking—blending elements of board gaming with some storytelling. Some examples of published procedural solo games are Ex Novo, Four Against Darkness, and 2d6 Dungeon.

Some solo roleplaying games defy categorization entirely. They blend journaling with resource management, card drawing with dice rolling, or even include tactile elements like Jenga towers or drawing maps. Others reimagine solo play as something experiential or poetic. Some examples are Apothecaria, Be Like a Crow, Gentleman Bandit, The Sealed Library, or The Wretched.

MY EXPERIENCES WITH SOLO ROLEPLAYING GAMES

Now that we have looked at how solo roleplaying games work, let us explore a few notable games that highlight the diversity of the genre. I am going to talk about the games I looked deeper into.

The first solo game I played was the journaling game Alone Among the Stars by Takuma Okada. The concept is that you are alone in space, exploring strange planets, and recording your experiences. It follows a very simplistic structure and could be seen more as a creative writing exercise than a game. You draw cards and roll a die to determine prompts, which you then use to describe how you explore alien landscapes.

This is not a solo game for those looking for a gaming experience. It is aimed at those who enjoy creative writing. The prompts are deliberately vague, only there to offer inspiration and to add structure to your own creative exercise. Because they are vague, some can feel repetitive, handing responsibility over to you to add a unique flare. I found it strangely relaxing and poetic, and it works well for me who likes to write.

The second game I played was The Wretched by Chris Bissette. This is very similar in structure to Alone Among the Stars, using a six-sided die and a deck of cards to generate prompts. However, this game is more involved than Alone Among the Stars and feels more like a game because of it. It does this by introducing a Jenga tower to add tension and risk of failure. You are the last survivor on a ship that has been attacked by a hostile alien creature, and the prompts are there to generate experiences and activities related to the ship’s systems, structure, and crew, or the creature that is hunting you. Some prompts ask you to pull from the Jenga tower, and when it inevitably falls, the ship is destroyed. After each day of activities, you are recording your experiences as a log; which is where the journaling comes in.

I found the addition of the Jenga tower very effective, since it creates a tension that you would not feel by a simple writing exercise. This is also why it feels more like a game than Alone Among the Stars did. However, the prompts are much more specified in The Wretched, which means that multiple playthroughs will generate a similar outcome. That makes Alone Among the Stars more diverse in the kinds of stories that it generates, even if the game itself is much more simplistic.

I did not actually play any oracle games in depth, but I took a deeper look at the solo mode for Free League’s The Walking Dead roleplaying game. The oracle systems are strong prompt generators that could be used for creative writing as well, but the fact that they are based on traditional tabletop roleplaying games make them feel more like roleplaying games by default. Instead of journaling, you are actively playing the game with yourself, using simplified systems and random tables to affect the outcome. You do not actually have to sit around talking to yourself; it all takes place in your mind, as you roll dice and generate results. You need to write things up to keep track of things, but you do not have to structure it in the same way a journaling game would.

While I do not have much experience with other oracle systems, I found The Walking Dead to be well-suited for solo play. The base game is already heavily relying on random tables to generate outcomes that the solo mode felt like a seamless transition.

The final game I had a chance to play before writing this article was the city-building game Ex Novo by Sharkbomb Studios. This game uses paper, pencils, six-sided dice, tokens, and random tables to help generate a map and a growing settlement. You go through different stages of development, from the city’s founding, and help generate events, factions, and landmarks.

This game is less of a roleplaying game and more of a roleplaying tool, in my opinion. It has gameplay elements through its structure, but it is not something I would play again just for the sake of entertainment. I would, however, use it as a tool to generate maps and settlements. It could be a useful tool as part of a Session Zero to establish a setting for a roleplaying campaign. Actually, for that purpose, it is very effective.

CURRENT TRENDS IN SOLO ROLEPLAY

While the foundations of solo roleplaying games stretch back to the 1970s, and the pandemic brought renewed spotlight to the hobby, today’s solo roleplaying game landscape feels distinct from its earlier roots. What we are seeing now—especially in the indie space—is an explosion of creativity, accessibility, and diversity in how these games are made, played, and shared.

One of the most notable trends is the rise of journaling games, like the ones I have mentioned in this article. These games emphasize personal storytelling, introspection, and creative writing. While they may appeal to a more niche audience compared to gameplay-focused systems, they have carved out a devoted and loyal community, one that actively supports small creators and encourages new ideas.

The indie market in general has embraced solo roleplaying games for their simplicity and low barrier to entry. Many games are either free or pay-what-you-want, and they often only rely on basic tools that most people have access to, like a normal deck of cards, or six-sided dice. They do not require vast time investments to learn, can often just be picked up and played, and are easily found and shared on platforms like Itch.io and DriveThruRPG.

There also seems to be a renewed interest in traditional, minimalistic printing, like booklets and zines, often through crowdfunding platforms like Kickstarter. But there is also a surge in digital tools, like GM emulators, web interfaces, and VTTs. If done right, these can offer new accessibility options, help lower the learning curve of games and offer entirely new experiences. For example, I had a chat a couple of weeks before writing this article with a game designer who was working on an automated web-based system for managing a Martian colony. It could be played as a solo game or be used as a GM tool for a roleplaying game. I am all for new, creative ideas like that, and new ways to play.

As much as we like to blame social media for all society’s wrongs, I believe that social media has played a crucial role in unifying the indie market and helping smaller creators advertise projects that would have otherwise been left unseen. There are many talented creators who help evolve the genres by blending adjacent styles and coming up with unique hybrid games that then give rise to entirely new ways of play.

Ironically, for a hobby defined by solitary play, solo roleplaying games foster a surprising amount of community engagement. Shared experiences, playthroughs, and support for creators make it feel collaborative, even if you are the only one rolling the dice or drawing the cards. And with how quickly the space is growing and evolving, I believe we are only seeing the beginning of what solo roleplaying games can become.

THE FUTURE OF SOLO ROLEPLAYING GAMES

As we have learned in this article, solo roleplaying games are no longer a niche side branch of the tabletop hobby—they have become a distinct and thriving genre in their own right. Much of the innovation happened during the pandemic, so the question now is whether things have fallen off since then, or if innovation is still moving forward?

There will always be creators passionate about the niche spaces. Today, indie game designers are experimenting with hybrid mechanics, new ideas, generative tools, and genre mashups. The tools and formats we are using are also evolving thanks to crowdfunding: from zines and booklets to browser games, mobile apps, and box sets.

One thing that seems likely to grow is the integration of digital tools, especially generative tools. Oracles and GM emulators will probably combine with AI for more advanced procedural generation. Despite controversies related to generative AI, these tools combined could, hopefully ethically, lead to more accessible roleplaying experiences, especially for those who would otherwise be unable to engage with traditional social tabletop roleplaying games. More accessibility efforts would help the tabletop roleplaying game hobby reach an even wider audience, which I think would be a good thing.

I don’t think solo roleplaying games will see mainstream recognition anytime soon, but it is a good sign that more big publishers are incorporating solo rules in games that otherwise would not have them. The new edition of the Alien roleplaying game is such an example, where the original game did not have solo rules and the new edition does.

In the end, the future of solo roleplaying games will likely be defined by the same forces that have always shaped it: individual creativity, community support, and the desire for solo entertainment.

How a Backstory Can Make Your Character Worse

I think that many of us who have grown up with tabletop roleplaying games know how much harder it is to find time for games the older you get. I love getting invested in a character, but I barely have time for the sessions as it is. I used to be the kind of roleplayer who spent hours exploring my character and their story in between sessions, and doing so caused my roleplaying to suffer more than anything. Today, I don’t have time to sit down and flesh out my characters to that extent, but neither do I want to.

As it happens, an extensive backstory can cause more harm than good, and it isn’t needed to create a character with depth. In this article, I want to show you how to quickly and effortlessly make rich and engaging characters in mere minutes during Session Zero. I’ll also share why letting go of the idea of extensive backstories being a good thing will make your character stronger in play.

If you’ve ever struggled coming up with good character ideas, or if you’ve ever felt pressured to work on your characters between sessions like homework, this article is for you.

WHY BACKSTORIES CAN BACKFIRE

Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with backstories in general. They can be fun to write and can provide the GM with useful story hooks. If you don’t mind spending hours writing, who am I to tell you not to?

The real problem begins when the backstory gets so detailed that you become overly attached to it. If you write a story hoping the GM will incorporate it into the game, you’re putting expectations on the GM. The GM already has a bigger role than you in relation to the game, and they don’t magically have more hours in the day than you do. If you write a story and the GM doesn’t read it, there’s disappointment already there. But you might also hope for specific arcs that never come, or see things turn out differently from what you expected.

The more detail you add to your story, the more potential story hooks there are for sure. But there’s also a stronger risk of attachment—not just to your work, but to how you imagine the story unfolding. That’s where disappointment creeps in.

I used to be guilty of writing long backstories. When I was young and had the time to spend entire days writing, I could obsessively dig into my characters. The backstory I wrote for my first Exalted character was about 150 pages. I thought it was a good thing that I was so invested in my character, but it turned out to work against me in the end.

What happened at the table rarely matched what I had in my mind, and I often ended up disappointed that certain prewritten arcs weren’t touched upon or resolved. It wasn’t that the game was bad, but I crippled myself by clinging to a story I’d already written. When one game didn’t dig into the stories I wanted to see, I tried the same character again in a different game, much to the same disappointment. Looking back, I should have just written a book.

Tabletop roleplaying games aren’t solo stories. They’re more like ensemble stories. It’s easy, without realizing it, to make your character’s story into your own center of gravity. It pulls you in. The more time you spend writing alone, the more your mind starts treating it like the story, rather than one story among many. When the GM doesn’t indulge that vision, it can feel like losing control, and your expectations take a hit.

SHIFTING THE MINDSET

That leads to my main point. Not only can you make a character feel deep and detailed without a prewritten backstory, but you’ll often find yourself better served without one. The most important shift is trading ego for collaboration.

Like I mentioned, an intricate backstory can accidentally send the message “I’m the main character” to the table. But the goal is shared spotlight. You’re not the only one entitled to a good game and a good story. You might need to park that ego, stay curious, dare to let go of control, and see your character emerge from play.

This is the important part. Detaching from specific outcomes isn’t the same as detaching from your character. Be invested in your character without being too rigid. If you’re too attached to a specific story, you’ll seek to control the narrative going forward. Investment without attachment makes you resilient to the unexpected, and you’ll be able to approach the story with curiosity and excitement, even in the face of failure—or even character death.

THE “FOUR + ONE” FOUNDATION

I’ve talked about how the intricacy and detail of an elaborate backstory can work against you. But an entirely blank slate feels plain and uninteresting. So, what do I consider the minimum you actually need to make a character start feeling meaningful? I recommend a process I call “Four + One.” So, what is it?

First, answer the question: “What brought you to where you are?” This is your inciting past, like an event or force that pushed you onto the road. Second, answer the question: “Who are you now?” This is your present identity in a single line, similar to FATE’s High Concept. Third, answer the question: “Who or what do you care about today?” These are the people, factions, places, or ideals that anchor you to the world. Fourth, answer the question: “Where are you headed?” This could be a direction, a motivation, or a quest you’ve been given. It gives you momentum into the story.

These four questions don’t need elaborate answers. You can answer each one with a single sentence, and your character will already start seeing depth.

But I said Four + One. So, what’s the “+ One?” It’s the question: “What complicates your life today?” This is similar to FATE’s Trouble: it’s a flaw, a burden, or a recurring problem that makes your choices interesting. Flawed or burdened characters feel more alive and interesting, and it allows for more engaging stories. The reason I’m calling it Four + One instead of simply Five is because I want to give this last question extra emphasis. The first four questions define your character’s foundation, while the final one adds the complication that makes them interesting. It’s the difference between a character concept and a story waiting to happen.

Let’s use the Four + One method in a quick example. “What brought you to where you are?” My village was razed by an invading force, so I had to flee. “Who are you now?” I am a farmer turned hardened survivor. “Who or what do you care about today?” I care about civilians caught between feuding lords. “Where are you headed?” I’m trying to push back the invaders and reclaim a quiet life. “What complicates your life today?” I live with the shame of leaving someone behind to save myself.

It barely took me a minute to answer these questions, and it already suggests scenes, choices, and conflicts to spark storylines. It’s already playable. It’s evocative. And it didn’t require any effort or homework.

Let’s use the same Four + One principle for a completely different type of game, like KULT: Divinity Lost. “What brought you to where you are?” I haven’t been able to sleep properly for years, so I take late-night walks to distract my mind. I saw something I cannot explain on such a walk, and now I feel like the nightmares are becoming real. “Who are you now?” I am a social outcast who is always looking for new distractions, but my vices are becoming extreme. “Who or what do you care about today?” I care about my grandmother because she is the only one who checks in. “Where are you headed?” I feel like I’m heading into an abyss, and I follow whatever sign I get that leads me away from that path. “What complicates your life today?” I am sleep deprived and use vices like intoxicants. It harms those around me.

See, now we have a deeply troubled but also realistic character that would fit neatly into a horror game like KULT: Divinity Lost. It doesn’t really matter which type of game or genre it is: the Four + One method will give your character meaning in less than a minute of work.

But we’re not done yet! This is just the foundation to build upon. We have done a minute of work on the character so far, and it’s already more than a blank slate. But we can do even more, though the next step will require collaboration.

COLLABORATIVE PROMPTING

The simplest way to turn the Four + One foundation into something the whole table can use is to take advantage of Session Zero. Do it together rather than alone.

Start by having each player speak their Four + One answers out loud. The answers themselves should come from the questions, but the character creation process and earlier discussions about the game are also important foundational pieces in coming up with appropriate answers. I recommend that you collaboratively create characters during Session Zero, not only to have these conversations, but also to avoid potential overlaps in character creation.

This is a bit a digression, but avoiding character overlap gives opportunities to both claim and cede the spotlight, which is important in a collaborative game.

After a player has introduced their foundation to the group, go around the table and have each person ask one short question to that player. Keep it simple and specific. Ask what they do in quiet moments, who they secretly admire or resent, or what rumor about them might be true. There are no stupid questions. Even the ones that don’t seem directly relevant can add flavor to a character and give their player thought and maybe a new perspective upon their personality.

Using the previous example, questions posed to the farmer turned hardened survivor might be things like “what is something your character does for fun?” and “who do you trust the most?” The player should then treat each question seriously and come up with an answer. In this example, it could be “he writes poetry that he doesn’t show anyone” and “he doesn’t see eye to eye with his sister, but she’s his last remaining relative and he knows she wants what’s best for him.” Two questions, seemingly random, and the character is already richer.

After you have done this for each player’s character, run a second round where each player asks a relationship question that ties their characters together. You could ask what you have bonded over, when you let each other down and how you mended it, how you met and why you’re traveling together. This is important not to add more flavor to the characters—though it does do that as well—but primarily to connect the characters to the group and the setting in a more meaningful way.

Using the farmer example again, let’s say that the other players in the group are going to be an aging soldier and a traveling troubadour. The soldier’s player might ask: “What is one thing our characters bonded over?” and the troubadour might ask: “Which song do you always ask me to perform?”

Same as before, taking the questions seriously, you might tell the soldier’s player that “You are the only person I’ve told the full story about my village to, including the shameful parts,” and you might tell the troubadour that “You have a song about how a man’s tragedy can lead to triumph. It inspires me when I hear it.” Again, seemingly random questions taken seriously, add flavor to the character, make you consider things you hadn’t considered otherwise, and help tether the character to the party and the setting in ways writing a backstory in isolation couldn’t do.

Throughout the rounds, the GM can jump in with clarifying questions and additional prompting statements to invite the players to come up with more details. It’s in the GM’s interest to get the information they need to come up with meaningful narrative hooks. Asking questions is helpful, but prompting statements can have additional purposes.

“There was a commander in golden armor leading the raid on your village. Tell me something about him.” This isn’t a question. It’s a statement. The GM might already have things in mind for the commander in golden armor, but by inviting the player in this way, the GM both collects new prompts to spark their own creative process and gives the player a connection to a potential story arc that will feel personal.

The player invents a detail in response to the statement, and it instantly becomes a shared hook. “I had a moment of eye contact with the commander when I was hiding. He smiled at me but didn’t tell his soldiers where I was. I don’t know why, and I can’t stop thinking about it.” Now, both the GM and the player own that piece of the world, and it’s alive at the table. You don’t need to delve deeper into that prompting statement now. You’ve already given the GM what they need to build upon that hook if they choose to.

You can keep asking each other questions for as long as you desire, but it’s recommended to leave some blanks on purpose. You don’t need an answer to every question, and some mysteries are better left to discover later.

WHY THIS WORKS BETTER THAN LONG BACKSTORIES

The Four + One and collaborative prompting approaches beat the big backstory for a few reasons. First, they’re flexible, allowing your character to evolve more organically. Second, they’re collaborative, so the story hooks belong to the whole table rather than to you alone. Third, they’re actionable, which means that every answer produces something both the group and the GM can use right away. Fourth, they’re practical, since you remove the burden of homework— ideal for us busy grownups and welcoming to new players.

There isn’t anything new in this approach to character design. A few decades ago, it was common for games to incorporate lifepath systems and random tables to prompt character ideas. Cyberpunk did this already in the late 80s and early 90s, but many lifepath prompts were still gamified to engage the players. Later, you saw other forms of gamified narrative prompts, like FATE’s Character Aspects. Other narrative games incorporated individual character prompting, like the playbooks of Forged in the Dark.

It’s a fairly new phenomenon for mainstream games to incorporate collaborative prompting as part of the default character creation process. Exalted Essence mentions it as part of the suggested structure of a Session Zero. Daggerheart has it as a vital step of character creation with designated sections for it on the sheet. Don’t skip this just because it isn’t gamified.

THINGS TO CONSIDER

There are other things to consider when it comes to these approaches. First, if you worry about stealing spotlight from other players, the Four + One method makes your character interesting without turning it into a narrative gravity well. Since your foundation is minimal and focused, there are less prewritten arcs to be attached to, and it will be easier for you to avoid sucking attention away from the other players or the larger story.

Second, if you’re a perfectionist, remember that “good enough to play” beats “perfect but late.” It’s easy to fall into the pit of overpreparation, and it can both kill the excitement for a game and the game itself. You only need a sentence or two per prompt to know enough about your character to start rolling dice.

If you’re hesitant or unsure about something, ask the GM to lead the conversation. Take every question seriously and answer it honestly. Don’t judge or rewrite each other’s answers. If someone gets stuck, offer a suggestion, not a correction. Even simple questions are meaningful, and an answer that contrasts from your original character idea can work in that character’s favor.

A question like “what’s your character’s favorite food?” might sound trivial, but suddenly you have a scene where a character treats another to dinner and makes that exact dish. That tiny detail personalizes the moment and makes the game more impactful.

If you’re a player who loves to write and wants to take time between sessions to delve deeper into your character, feel free to flesh out certain details or journal the experience as you think is fun. But remember to check in with yourself too to avoid the risk of attachment. Maintain curiosity and recognize that your character isn’t fully yours—it’s part of the group’s shared story, and the group are shareholders in its fate.

CONCLUSION

To summarize my main points. Remember the collaborative aspect above all. Help each other fill in blanks. Give extra emphasis to connecting your characters to each other and to the setting. Don’t get bogged down in minute details that no one has context for yet. Those are the kinds of blanks that will fill themselves in as you go, and they will feel more genuine because they grow out of scenes you actually play.

Remember that depth doesn’t come from length. It comes from hooks you’ll actually put on the table, together, session after session. Build the foundation with a few sentences, ask each other questions with curiosity, tie the party together, and leave space for discovery.

Machineborn DLC – Kirlians Available

Few people in the solar system have heard of kirlians. Their existence isn’t necessarily a secret, but most factions think it better if people are unfamiliar with them. The reason why is the existential dread that comes with the truth that death might not always be an escape.

People from all progenies can become kirlians. And while being one imbues you with great power, it isn’t something people would want to strive to become.

No, kirlians are tormented by an affliction. It is almost like a state of undeath, an incurable sickness that forever reminds you that your body isn’t truly alive; that your mind is nothing but a memory stuck in a husk of dying flesh. As a kirlian, you sometimes feel trapped in time; like your life is a lie; that maybe you actually died and this is all a dream.

But what actually happened? Well, you died! At least, you would have died. Maybe you should have died. It was an intensely traumatizing experience; perhaps a result of violence or an accident. Whatever the situation was, you recall just enough of it to know that you were filled with dread. But you also recall that you didn’t want it. You were afraid of it. You wanted to live.

The Voidstar noticed your pain. It came for you. It began the extraction of your consciousness. But then something happened. Maybe your will to live was too strong. Maybe it was your body that didn’t want to let you go. Or maybe the Voidstar changed its mind, if it has one. Whatever it was, it didn’t work! You woke up, perhaps on the street, or a hospital bed. You woke up alive.

But something was different. Something felt off about your body, your memories, your emotions. You didn’t feel right! It was almost like you woke up without a piece of you that was important, or maybe with a new piece that didn’t belong. Maybe both.

Download the Kirlian DLC here!