Session Zero is a card-based solo character creation game. It is, in short, a quick and easy journaling game to build a creative backstory. You draw at least five playing cards from a shuffled deck, and based on the prompts you write out significant moments in your character’s history before the beginning of the game.

It’s called Session Zero, because that’s what a session zero is. As a gaming term, session zero is, natch, what comes before the first session. It is, in essence, the prologue to the game.

So ends the first story in the Edmund Moulde quadrilogy. With some time to spare before my treatise on the medium of RPGs is finished, I will spend the next few Saturdays uploading some short stories set in what I ended up calling The Cliffside Universe

After all, Brackenburg is only one of the major cities in the Britannian Empire, and a steadily decaying one, at that. There is room for stories across the globe as the world slowly changes from steam-punk to diesel-punk, and no one city is better suited to display the variety and complexity of that transition than Cliffside, hub of trade, adventure, and diverse stew of humanity.

Opening each Edmund book with an excerpt or quote from a fabricated biography of Edmund Moulde was the plan for a long time…but when I first decided to post the book on a (now defunct) blog, I needed something to separate each chapter. So, I decided to write more of Edmund’s Poems.

What resulted was a mix of parodies and absurdities. At first, I attributed each quote to a different scholar and book, but soon the rivalry between Sirs Kohlm and Krink took shape, and eventually they became the only scholars I cited.

A pin falling on a carpet from the height of an ant’s back could have broken the silence. The air itself froze, not daring to cross the room for fear of disrupting the stunned tableau.

Tricknee had no such restraint.

“WHAT?!”

His lanky body unfolded in a flurry of black limbs, rushing towards Edmund like a wrinkled thresher machine.

“Please forgive me, Mister Tricknee,” words tumbled from his mouth in an avalanche, desperate to slow his meteoric advance, “I know we agreed to reveal this later, but I simply cannot in good conscience keep such important news from our honored guests. After all,” inspiration struck, “they have clearly expressed how much they hate surprises.”

Inspirisles is an all ages RPG, with a focus on storytelling, empathy, and cooperation. Its secondary purpose is to help teach you Sign Language.

Now I could leave it at that, but that would do the game a great disservice. It is as creative and well designed as any system, pulling narrative inspiration from Arthurian legend and mythology. It focuses on collaboration, world-building, and teen-adventures in the style of YA novels and 80s classics like The Neverending Story, Labyrinth, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Hopelessly Devoted is a NSFW solo-journaling RPG, and this is going to be an uncomfortable post for some of you. If you don’t want to hear it, that’s fine, see you next time. For everyone else, some ground-rules:

First and foremost, I will not hear any dissing of the sexual role-play community. The RPG community should know what it’s like to have people totally misconstrue our hobbies in a manner that details their hangups more than it does ours. Even worse, we know what it’s like for someone to get it right, and then shake their heads and say it’s weird. We know better. People like what they like.

Apocalypse World does something that no other RPG that I can think of does. It deals with sex.

Now…some of the more experienced players out there might have just whispered “Dominate” under their breath. Or perhaps “Frozen Witchfire Embrace.” Or even “Charm Person.” Or…gods protect us… F.A.T.A.L.

Because yes, despite what I said, a lot of RPG systems deal with sex, and almost all of them do so poorly.

No, I can’t say poorly…they do so casually. Childishly. And some very poorly.

Edmund stood in front of Moulde Hall, dressed in the finest fitting suit he had been able to purchase in town, watching the carriage driver drive up the hill.

Ung had been waiting in his room to help him dress. Edmund was no expert, but Ung had assured him that the suit was well made and a perfect fit. The collar was broad and tall, and the vest was a thin leathery gray with Plinkerton’s watch tucked neatly into the pocket. His pants were well fitted, resting lightly on his shiny black shoes, while faint beige ruffles slipped out from around his sleeves like flowers.

Betrayal at House on the Hill is an RPG.

No, it isn’t.

I mean, it is, kinda, but it very much isn’t. Betrayal is a lovely little game where you create your own 80s horror flick, complete with traitor, campy villain, and spooky house. If you go looking to buy Betrayal you’ll find it on the shelf next to all the other board games, not an RPG to be seen.

Mörk Borg is grimdark, apocalyptic, and born from a mix of doom-metal album cover and fever dream. It is rust, rags, and rotten meat. It is rules-light and tone-rich.

First, let’s talk about violence. Combat in Mörk Borg is simple enough. It borrows heavily from the d20 systems you’re familiar with; roll a d20, add your bonuses, and if you roll over the difficulty rating, you succeed.

The difficulty rating is 12. It’s always 12. Enemies never roll, similar to Knave, and you either roll over 12 to hit, or over 12 to dodge. The difficulty is constant no matter which monsters you’re fighting against.