Tag Archives: RPG

In Theory: D&D 6th edition in 2027?

There is absolutely no debate that 5th edition Dungeons and Dragons, released in 2014, was a runaway hit. It did not just do well. It did not quietly succeed. It kicked in the tavern door, rolled a natural 20 on persuasion, and walked out with the entire hobby under its arm.

Now, yes, those of us with a few decades of dice scars may have a list of complaints. We have opinions. We have feelings. We have binders. But even the grumpiest old school gamer has to admit that 5e was a phenomenon. The numbers do not lie. The dragon was awake again.

There are many reasons for this success, but the big three are as clear as a freshly laminated character sheet.

First, 5e was a course correction. After the bold, shiny, heavily gamified experiment of 4th edition, Wizards of the Coast gently steered the ship back toward something that felt like classic D&D. Not a full retreat. Not a full reboot. More like returning home after a semester abroad with some new ideas and a slightly different haircut. It felt familiar again. That mattered.

What D&D should look like, what it should feel like, and in general what it should be mechanically has been debated for as long as the game has existed. There is, however, one universal thing that I think everyone can agree on, which is that it should be fun. And fun is the most subjective and incurably based on personal taste. You cannot create a game that everyone will love, but 5e came pretty damn close.

Second, Dungeons and Dragons escaped the basement and walked onto the stage. Thanks to groups like Critical Role and other streaming pioneers, playing D&D became entertainment. People were not just rolling dice. They were performing. They were voice acting. They were crying on camera. At one point, it was entirely possible that more people were watching D&D than actually playing it. Somewhere, Gary Gygax probably raised an eyebrow.

Third, Wizards of the Coast embraced the digital age instead of pretending it was a passing fad at the perfect time. The pandemic hit, and we were all trapped in our houses, and playing D&D online swung the door open. Unearthed Arcana gave players a peek behind the curtain. DnD Beyond made character creation less of a paper management mini-game. The DM Guild let aspiring designers throw their ideas into the wild (myself included), and the age of VTT’s blossomed. The game was not just something you bought in a bookstore anymore. It was something you interacted with online, argued about, homebrewed, and refreshed your browser for.

All of this helped, of course. But there was one more crucial factor.

The game was fun again. I know many people in the old school space hated it, but I think a lot of that hate comes from a general hate of change and is pretty misguided and mostly an assessment offered by a group of people that never even tried it.

Not exactly the same fun as the red box days, I get it. Not quite the ruthless, unforgiving dungeon crawls of our youth. But it hit a sweet spot with a wide audience. It welcomed new players without demanding they memorize a rulebook the size of a small nation’s tax code. At the same time, it did not completely exile the veterans to the wilderness.

I played it. I still play it from time to time. It is not perfect. It is not sacred. But it is, undeniably, a good time. And sometimes that is all a game really needs to be.

Gender Politics and Woke Agenda

All right. Deep breath. Let us wade into the dragon’s lair.

At some point, about two-thirds of the way through the 2014 edition’s ten-year reign, the world outside the hobby started changing at a rather brisk pace. Culture wars went from being something discussed on late-night talk shows to something that seemed to leak into every possible corner of entertainment. Television, movies, comics, novels, blockbuster franchises with laser swords and capes, nothing felt untouched.

Dungeons and Dragons did not exist in a vacuum. It never has. And eventually, Wizards of the Coast made it clear that they were going to plant a flag. The company leaned into contemporary social themes and made an effort to reflect modern values directly in the game’s language, art, and presentation. From their perspective, this was not reckless. It was responsible. It was being on the right side of history. It was aligning the brand with the audience they believed would carry it forward.

On paper, that sounds perfectly reasonable. No company wants to look outdated or hostile to its audience. The problem, as many entertainment giants have discovered over the past decade, is that audiences are rarely as unified as marketing departments hope they are.

Large franchises such as Star Wars and Marvel have had very public struggles navigating this terrain. For some fans, changes feel refreshing and overdue. For most, they feel intrusive, even if you support the ideology and purpose behind them. The result is often less a calm evolution and more a noisy food fight on the internet. And once the food starts flying, it tends to splatter everywhere, bumping against the bottom line.

Going woke with shows like Acolyte has cost Disney millions, but they are perfectly capable of creating insanely successful shows like Andor that stay away from political messaging and just let themselves be awesome. At some point, you have to pick. Do you want to make money or do you want to be political?

By the time D&D’s fiftieth anniversary update arrived in late 2024 and early 2025, rebranding the system as the 2024 edition of Dungeons and Dragons, tensions were already simmering in the wider culture; people were frankly kind of sick of the fight. The DEI and Tumblr warriors who never actually played D&D to begin with were gone, and the only people remaining were fans of the game, not so much the politics. The new core books sold quickly at launch. Wizards of the Coast proudly announced record breaking performance. Critics, however, have not been kind to these books. As is often the case, the marketing headlines were louder than the spreadsheets.

The reception itself felt different from 2014. The original 5th edition was greeted with near universal enthusiasm. The 2024 refresh, while mechanically very similar at its core, received a far more mixed response. Some players praised clarifications and refinements. Others felt uneasy about tonal shifts in the writing and presentation. The game had become very…preachy, as did the company running the franchise.

Then vs. now. How far the mighty have fallen. I understand that this is a bit out of context, a comparison designed to create outrage. My point is that the image on the left is indisputably Dungeons and Dragons, through and through. The one on the right is a parody and has nothing to do with Dungeons and Dragons at all. Period.

One of the loudest points of friction centered on the game’s language around ancestry, identity, and morality. Longstanding fantasy concepts were reexamined. Half-race people were reframed or removed. Traditional assumptions about inherently evil creatures were softened or rewritten. Orcs were no longer automatically villains. The language around alignment and culture became more cautious, more nuanced. Real-world politics and political positions were infused into the game on every page, in the words, in the design, in the art.

For some players, this was overdue housekeeping. For others, it felt like an overcorrection. They did not come to the table looking for a seminar on modern ethics, especially by the end of 2024, at a time that we had already endured so much infiltration of politics into our hobbies and entertainment. They wanted dragons, dungeons, and that escapist feeling at the table that D&D had provided for decades. They were looking for familiarity, the comfort food that is D&D. Instead, D&D like so many franchises, was weaponized to push a political agenda.

The art direction also shifted in tone. Where older editions leaned into grim and gritty sword and sorcery, the newer books embraced a brighter, more inclusive aesthetic. To supporters, this was welcomed creativity and inclusivity. To detractors, it felt sanitized or didactic. The debate was less about rules and more about vibe. The message of the book was not about Dungeons and Dragons and fantasy, but about the real-world culture war being waged in the pages of our games, splashing its way into yet another beloved hobby.

I’m not saying this is bad art; it very clearly is done by a very talented person who has a flair for color and style, but if these images did not appear in a D&D book, no one would mistake them for representing D&D worlds and settings. It’s art that belongs in a different game. In what setting do bards dress like rock stars and play an electric base?

And that is the thing. Mechanically, the 2024 edition is still 5th edition at heart. Advantage still exists. Armor class still matters. Fireball is still fireball. But tone is powerful. Presentation shapes perception. When fans are already fatigued from broader culture battles in other franchises, even subtle changes can feel amplified.

Meanwhile, corporate realities marched on. There were reports of layoffs within the broader Hasbro structure. Longtime contributors departed. Ambitious digital initiatives such as the planned virtual tabletop platform known as Project Sigil struggled to find a stable footing and collapsed, and there was a complete lack of any evidence of the game’s success, with plenty of proof to the contrary. For a brand publicly celebrating success, the surrounding news cycle felt oddly turbulent and out of tune with the messaging. This continues to this day.

Now rumors swirl, as they always do in this hobby. Whispers of a sixth edition drift through forums and video essays. Wizards of the Coast remains largely quiet, which of course only fuels speculation further. Silence, in the internet age, is rarely interpreted as calm confidence.

In the end, what we are witnessing may be less a moral apocalypse and more a growing pain. Dungeons and Dragons has survived moral panics, edition wars, satanic scares, and rulebook bloat thick enough to stun a troll. It is unlikely to be slain by a paragraph about orcs.

But it is fair to say this: the 2024 era feels different. Not necessarily doomed. Not necessarily triumphant. Just… contested.

Rumors have now begun, from claimed leaks coming out of Wizards of the Coasts to speculation, the question everyone is asking. Is 2024 ok? And if not, what is the next move?

My Theory

My theory is fairly simple, and possibly completely wrong, which of course makes it perfect for the internet.

The RPG industry is nimble. It always has been. It is powered by small publishers, independent designers, artists in spare bedrooms, and creators who can pivot faster than a rogue dodging an opportunity attack. If the cultural winds shift, they adjust. If players want grittier rules, lighter rules, stranger settings, someone will test it, publish it, and move on before the ink dries.

Wizards of the Coast does not move like that. It never has, and TSR did not either in its prime. When you are part of a large corporate machine, you carry weight. Layers of approval. Strategy decks. Risk assessments. Brand alignment meetings where phrases like cross vertical synergy are spoken without irony. By the time a plan is approved and executed, the rest of the hobby may already have experimented, adapted, and moved on.

Being big has advantages. Massive distribution. Deep pockets. Marketing reach that indie designers would trade a legendary artifact for. But size comes with inertia. In a fast-changing cultural climate, inertia can look like tone deafness even when the intent is good.

Add to that monster-sized echo chamber in which Wizards of the Coast lives. When your interviews are conducted by your own employees, when messaging is tightly controlled, and every word goes through sensitivity experts, when the loudest feedback comes from the most vocal online minority, like the utterly incoherent and completetly diluisional DnD Beyond forum community and its moderators, you risk mistaking noise for consensus. In the 2024 update, once a direction was chosen, it was embraced completely. The tone was deliberate. The messaging is unified. If this were a space opera, someone quietly said execute order sixty-six, and the creative trajectory was locked in.

Here is the nuance that gets lost in the shouting.

The fan base does want inclusivity. We want diversity. We want talented creators from every background imaginable making incredible games. Kelsey Dionne is a great example. A married lesbian designer whose work on Shadowdark won awards across the hobby. People did not buy Shadowdark because of her identity or the infusion of a political agenda in her book. They bought it because it is a sharp, confident, well-designed game that understands dungeon crawling at its core. She understood that the people who cry war over political issues and the audience who buy RPGs are not the same people. The awards and accolades came from D&D fans and were earned through craftsmanship, not activism. She was not given any credit from the so-called woke left because she refused to play their game. It was D&D fans who stood by her side and helped promote her work; she succeeded on merit, not bullshit.

I could go anywhere in the world, show any random person this image, and ask them where it’s from, and everyone will say “D&D”. This is Dungeons and Dragons art; everyone knows this. It’s a universal style, an understood cultural identity.

That is the distinction. You do not have to signal virtue. You have to be virtuous in your craft.

Most players are not asking for fantasy worlds that feel like corporate retreats. They want danger. Moral tension. Villains who are actually villainous. They want to feel heroic precisely because the world is not safe and tidy. They want that in the writing, in the mechanics and in the art of the games they play.

The mistake, in my view, is assuming that a diverse audience requires a softened fantasy. Being part of a minority group does not mean you want your dragon-slaying adventure to turn into a polite seminar with emotional affirmation circles fueled by sensitivity training. People of every identity enjoy sharp stories, dark themes, high stakes, and gritty art. To assume otherwise feels patronizing, even insulting.

What we are seeing feels like overcorrection. As if the brand is attempting to atone for decades of perceived sins by turning the dial all the way in the opposite direction. The irony is that when everything is curated to signal virtue, it can start to feel less diverse rather than more. Narrow in a different way.

There is indisputable proof that Wizards of the Coast is perfectly capable of capturing the theme, mood, settings and style of D&D in art in spectacular fashion, as proof in this amazing image from the 2024 5e book. Adding shitty art not representative of the name Dungeons and Dragons was done intentionally.

Dungeons and Dragons claims to be for everyone. But when the aesthetic and tone begin to feel targeted toward a very specific cultural slice, some longtime players inevitably feel sidelined. Representation is healthy. It was handled well in 2014. Strong female characters. Diverse heroes. Expanded visibility. It felt organic. It still felt like D&D.

The 2024 edition, by contrast, feels different to many players. Not because representation exists, but because the tone feels self-conscious. As if every page is glancing over its shoulder, worried about offending someone. That nervous energy seeps into the reading experience and to the table.

Most players, regardless of background, simply want great games. Bold settings. Mechanics that sing. Adventures that make them feel clever, powerful, terrified, and triumphant. They expect the game to avoid lazy stereotypes and actual bigotry. That is baseline. But they do not want every paragraph to feel like a position in a cultural debate.

But of course I’m talking about players, not social justice warriors, not the Tumblr echo chambers, not this violent vocal minority who doesn’t give a shit about Dungeons and Dragons, they just want to win an internet fight and see yet another franchise created by middle-aged white men burned to the ground.

We get it, Gygax was a racist and a misogynist, but he has not been part of D&D for nearly 40 years, and he is also dead and buried. Shut the fuck up and let it go!

Look again at Shadowdark. It trusts the audience. It leans into classic fantasy energy with confidence. It focuses on play. It feels like it is speaking from love of the hobby rather than from a corporate messaging strategy, and it does not misstep and offend reasonable people. It’s just a great game; it has let go of all the bad old legacy of D&D and embraced everything that is amazing about this hobby and this game.

I suspect this tension has not gone unnoticed inside Wizards of the Coast. Across entertainment, companies that leaned too heavily into overt cultural messaging have faced financial turbulence and consequences. Executives notice patterns. Quiet meetings happen. Words like recalibration and brand realignment start circulating.

The long silence since the 2024 edition launched, combined with persistent rumors of a sixth edition, suggests something is brewing. Maybe it is a simple iteration. Maybe it is something bigger.

Dungeons and Dragons has reinvented itself before. It will again. The real question is not whether change is coming. It is whether Wizards of the Coast recognizes that one may be needed and understands where they are failing.

What 6th Edition Should Look Like

What should 6th edition actually look like?

If the rumors are true and a new edition is on the horizon, my hope is simple. Not louder. Not shinier. Not wrapped in corporate buzzwords. Just better.

Right now the wider RPG scene feels alive. Designers are experimenting. Small teams are taking risks. Books feel focused and confident. They feel like they are trying to make great games, not press releases disguised as rulebooks. If 6th edition is coming, it should study that energy very carefully.

The biggest shift I want to see is a return to trust.

Trust the audience.

Trust that players can separate fantasy from reality. Trust that they can handle complex themes without a warning label every other page. Trust that diversity at the table does not require constant commentary from the publisher. If you hire talented, diverse creators, their voices will naturally shape the game. You do not need to underline it in red ink on every spread.

Focus on design. Focus on writing that crackles with adventure. Focus on fantasy that feels dangerous, mythic, and larger than life. Dungeons and Dragons is not a public policy document. It is not a corporate confession booth. It is a game about impossible heroes standing against impossible odds.

Yes, the hobby has a past. Many of us were there. We remember the rough edges. The jokes that aged poorly. The blind spots. Acknowledging that and doing better is healthy. But doing better does not require swinging so far in the other direction that the game loses its teeth. Growth is not the same thing as overcorrection.

Look at what Kelsey Dionne accomplished with Shadowdark. The inclusivity exists because she exists. It is part of the creative DNA of the project. It does not need a spotlight or a speech. It simply sits alongside tight mechanics and a clear love of dungeon crawling.

That is the model.

The best way to be inclusive is not to sand down every sharp corner. It is to welcome everyone to the table and then give them something awesome to play. Let the diversity of creators and players shape the culture organically. Corporations are in the business of making products. That is fine. Just make a great one. If you give players a compelling reason to buy your book, they will.

Above all, trust your audience.

We do not need moral instruction in every chapter. We do not need dragons reframed as misunderstood metaphors for modern anxieties. We need perilous ruins. We need villains worth hating. We need magic that feels powerful and a little dangerous. We need victories that feel earned.

We need dungeons.

And dragons.

Preview: Demidirge: Fanged Funnel – Shadowdark Adventure

A small but vicious little kit landed in my bucket this week: a Shadowdark RPG adventure headed for Kickstarter in the near future called Demidirge: Fanged Funnel.

At first, I hesitated to do a preview. Normally, if I’m going to write about an adventure, I want to run it first, spill some blood, break a few characters, listen to players argue about marching order. But then I remembered: I’ve been a DM for so long that I can smell a good dungeon from a cold read. Also, this is a preview, not a review, so nobody needs to clutch their pearls. I think I’m on solid ground here.

What really hooked me wasn’t the premise, the stats, or even the promise of grisly player death (though those are all respectable selling points). It was the art.

Classic black and white ink art has an uncanny charm and ability to inspire, love it.

Now, I’m no art connoisseur, but I read a lot of adventures and RPG material, mostly scavenging for ideas to steal for my own tables. And these days? A lot of RPG art blurs together. It’s competent. It’s polished. It also often looks suspiciously like it was generated by a machine that’s never rolled a saving throw in its life.

Demidirge, however, is something else entirely.

This is unmistakably original, hand-drawn ink art in that grimy, old-school style, raw, evocative, and absolutely smashing. It’s the kind of art that doesn’t just decorate the page; it dares you to run the adventure. And honestly, this is one of the things the OSR does right. There’s a genuine love of illustration here, a reverence for the weird, the nightmarish, and the slightly unhinged, something that’s increasingly rare in the broader modern RPG space (and yes, I say that as someone perfectly comfortable using AI art myself).

The art in Demidirge is the sort of stuff that crawls into your brain and starts whispering encounter ideas. It’s moody. It’s grotesque. It’s inspiring. Old-school gamers are going to eat this up.

And here’s the thing: great art makes you want to read the adventure. That’s exactly how this module got its hooks into me. You’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but when you see this cover, you’re absolutely going to crack it open and see what horrors are waiting inside.

The Adventure

There are three things you need to know about this adventure, but fair warning, as always: if you’re a player, stop reading now. Seriously. This is a funnel. Knowledge is a liability. Spoilers ahead.

First, this adventure is written for Shadowdark, the current darling of the OSR scene. That said, like most good old-school modules, the bones are system-agnostic. You could run this with just about any OSR ruleset without breaking a sweat. That said, Demidirge is very deliberately tuned for Shadowdark and even includes a bespoke zero-level character creation framework designed specifically for this nightmare. You’re not playing “peasants who happen to be here”, you’re playing tunnelers, and that distinction matters mechanically and thematically.

Shadowdarks success as an RPG is uncanny; it’s spoken about in circles that stretch well beyond the OSR, at this point its practically mainstream. One day soon, I predict the OSR is going to give Wizards of the Coast a run for their money. It’s growing by leaps and bounds.

Which leads neatly into the second thing: this is a funnel, and it wears that badge proudly.

If you’re not familiar with funnels, here’s the short version: instead of lovingly crafting a single hero, each player controls a small crowd of level 0 nobodies. These unfortunate souls are fed into a lethal gauntlet with the full expectation that most of them will die screaming, dissolving, or being recycled into something worse. The lucky few who survive crawl out the other side as first-level adventurers, scarred, changed, and usually carrying some deeply troubling memories.

I’ve always loved funnels (Dungeon Crawl Classics remains my personal poison of choice), because they’re one of the best onboarding tools tabletop RPGs have ever produced. Minimal rules. Immediate stakes. Constant laughs punctuated by sudden, shocking death. They’re perfect for non-gamers, party games, or just reminding veteran players that life is cheap and heroism is earned. Demidirge understands this completely and leans into it hard.

Now for the third element, the one that really elevates this adventure from “cool funnel” to “oh hell yes, I need to run this.”

The entire funnel takes place inside a shared nightmare.

One of the sort of quirks of classic funnels is that you have very little to work with; you are not going to find the answer on your character sheet. Survival requires clever players. Still, the players are given some tools in this adventure that may very well prove useful.

The characters believe they are workers in a vast subterranean mining complex known as the Malic Mindshaft, a living, bureaucratic hellscape of quotas, rival labor crews, holy management cults, and acid-filled tunnels. In reality, they are prisoners trapped inside the mind of an inhuman entity called The Hermit Queen. Their physical bodies hang elsewhere in the real world, sealed inside organic coffins, while their consciousnesses are forced to dig ever deeper toward something called the Sunless Horizon. The queen’s nest of sorts from which she is attempting to escape, and the players are inadvertently helping her to do so by digging her out.

Their real objective, though they won’t realize it at first, is to notice that something is wrong. To pick up on anomalies. To question the reality of the tunnels. To recognize that the rules of the world don’t behave quite right. Only by collectively triggering enough psychic “cracks” in the illusion can they awaken… at which point the nightmare ends in spectacular fashion and the survivors emerge into the real world as first-level characters.

This setup is brilliant for two reasons.

First, it gives the GM enormous freedom. This is a dream. A hostile one. Reality can glitch, contradict itself, loop, or outright lie. NPCs can behave inconsistently. Dead crews can reappear. Shadows can move wrong. You are encouraged to mess with player expectations, and the module provides a long list of concrete tools, events, rival crews, nightmare phenomena, and outright body horror, to do exactly that.

Second, and this is the real GM gold, Demidirge is setting-agnostic by design. Because the adventure ends with the characters waking up somewhere in the real world, it can slot cleanly into any campaign setting. You don’t need lore buy-in. You don’t need a starting town. You don’t even need to explain where the characters are from. They wake up, alive, confused, and hunted, and now your campaign begins.

For me personally, that makes this an ideal opening adventure. I’ve been planning to kick off a Dolmenwood campaign and have been wrestling with how to start it in a way that feels strange, unsettling, and memorable. Demidirge: Fanged Funnel solves that problem completely. Drop the players into the nightmare, let them claw their way out, and then unleash them into the woods with no safety net and a head full of questions.

That’s a hell of a session one.

Conclusion

I’ve been intentionally vague about the finer details of this adventure, and that’s very much by design. The two questions people usually want answered are “What is this adventure about?” and “How do I actually use this in my game?” I hope I’ve given enough context to answer both, without robbing anyone of the joy (or horror) of reading it for themselves. And yes, that includes DMs. This is very much an adventure best experienced fresh.

What Demidirge: Fanged Funnel offers is that classic OSR, “trust the referee” style of adventure design. You’re given strong impressions, clear themes, and a well-organized structure, tables, factions, events, and evocative bite-sized descriptions, rather than pages of boxed text and rigid scripting. The module assumes you know how to run a game, and more importantly, that you want to. It’s fast to read, easy to internalize, and leaves the real magic where it belongs: at the table.

That’s one of the OSR’s greatest strengths. Instead of overwhelming you with lore dumps and hyper-specific contingencies that immediately fall apart once the first sword is drawn, this adventure gives you the tools and trusts your instincts. Once play begins, the dungeon breathes, reacts, and mutates based on player choices rather than a prewritten flowchart.

There are key elements that matter, of course. The slow discovery that the characters are trapped inside a nightmare is central to the experience, as are the unsettling monsters and factions that inhabit it. The adventure is carefully seeded with obstacles that double as clues: rival tunnel crews, bureaucratic cruelty, ritualized labor, and nightmarish events that don’t quite add up. Everything subtly pushes the players to dig deeper, literally and figuratively, while quietly hinting that something is very, very wrong.

Mystery is notoriously difficult to pull off in tabletop RPGs. Players are clever, suspicious, and prone to setting things on fire just to see what happens. But here, I think the author genuinely succeeds. The truth is neither obvious nor handed to the players, and I fully expect many groups won’t survive long enough to unravel it at all. This is a funnel, after all. Death is cheap. Insight is not.

Players will need to bring their A-game, and probably a few spare character sheets, if they want to make it to the other side.

In short: this is a great story, thoughtfully constructed, beautifully illustrated, and deeply engaging. It’s weird, cruel, and imaginative in all the right old-school ways. If you’re looking for a funnel that does more than just kill characters, one that leaves survivors changed, this is absolutely worth picking up.

Highly recommended.

The Pioneer RPG: Kickstarter Preview

For All Mankind, the Apple TV series, is without question one of my favorite shows of the last decade. It’s an alternative-history epic about what might have happened if the space race never ended, if humanity kept pushing, competing, and occasionally tripping its way across the solar system.

It has everything I love in a good story: speculative history, grounded sci-fi, drama, and just enough “this could almost happen” futurism to make you glance suspiciously at NASA’s latest press releases. But what I enjoy most is that it feels less like science fiction and more like future history, a glimpse into a world that could have been ours with just a few different turns of the wrench, without infusing it with the magic of made-up future tech that most science fiction relies on.

I love a good historically based what-if story, and For All Mankind hits those beats with perfection in my humble opinion. No question, one of the best shows in years.

So when the marketing team at Mongoose Publishing reached out and asked me to take a look at their upcoming RPG, The Pioneer, the very first thing that came to mind was, naturally, For All Mankind. One paragraph into the description, and I was already hearing the opening theme in my head.

Today, we’re going to take a peek into Mongoose Games’ latest Kickstarter: a rather unusual, yet deeply intriguing, near-future Earth RPG about humankind’s next great adventure, exploring our own solar system. If you’ve ever wanted a game that sits somewhere between hard sci-fi realism and “what if we just kept going?”, this might be exactly your trajectory.

Overview

The Pioneer is built on the classic Traveller system, which, for long-time sci-fi RPG fans, should trigger an immediate nod of recognition. Traveller is the granddaddy of science-fiction tabletop gaming, the venerable elder around the campfire telling stories about starships before most of us were even rolling dice.

But that pedigree isn’t the real selling point here.

I haven’t tried the modern Traveller, though I do have nostalgic memories of playing this one back in the Jolt Cola days. I regret nothing!

What makes The Pioneer interesting is the opening it offers for a story-first RPG focused on near-future exploration beyond just the “adventure gaming” elements. You’ll be heading out into the solar system, and yes, there’s some delightful technobabble sprinkled throughout (it is a sci-fi RPG, after all), but this isn’t just a game about rockets, trajectories, or micromanaging oxygen levels. It’s got this presence defined into the game, like a grand stage on which modern space exploration stories can unfold and it’s this part of the game that has me intrigued.

Your mission isn’t just “go do the space thing.” Instead, The Pioneer opens the door for character-driven drama you’d expect from a prestige TV series. Motivations will matter. Politics will matter. The planning, the pressure, the PR disasters waiting to happen, the game leaves room to weave these elements into the action parts of the narrative just as much as the EVA repair scenes. It’s a game where you will tell the whole story, including the behind-the-scenes footage usually reserved for the documentary crew. An exciting proposition for a guy like me who loves NASA stories that happen between the lines.

A 200-page hardcover means that this RPG doesn’t fall into the “Light” category as far as game systems go. Not surprisingly, as neither does Traveller, but it is a modern system, so I think we can probably expect a relatively approachable game system.

A great example in the preview is Rescue at Low Earth Orbit. On the surface, it’s a classic space-rescue scenario with plenty of “uh… Houston we we have a problem” moments. But underneath, there’s a deeper narrative thread open to explore, one with enough emotional and political gravity to anchor an entire campaign. I won’t spoil the potential twists, but let’s just say there’s more going on than simply “complete the mission.” It immediately grabbed my attention and, once again, made me think of For All Mankind in all the best ways.

The Kickstarter

The Pioneer is launching through Kickstarter, and I always feel obligated to sound the traditional warning horn when entering that particular sub-market. We’ve all heard more cautionary tales than success stories, Kickstarter can be a magical place, but it can also be where good intentions go to die.

That said, Mongoose Publishing is not some first-time, two-person garage operation trying to figure out where the print PDF button is. These folks are seasoned veterans with a long, reliable track record. If there’s a spectrum of Kickstarter risk, this one sits comfortably on the “you can relax” end of it. You can check out the Pioneer Kickstarter here!

The even better news, at least in my humble opinion, is that this Kickstarter has already blasted past its funding requirement, so The Pioneer is definitely happening. And not only that, the most exciting stretch goals have already been unlocked, giving the project a strong launch trajectory (pun fully intended).

Of course, one of the first things anyone wants to do in a near-future space RPG is stage a mission to Mars. Luckily, this Kickstarter has anticipated that very impulse. Ares Ascendant, a full-length campaign covering the entire mission from A to Z, is already included. So if you’ve ever wanted to make the Red Planet your problem, you’re in good hands.

I think this book is the key to the game. Most people, I think are willing to try alternative RPG experiences to the standard stuff like D&D, but creating a campaign for a game like this, I think, would be tough, so releasing it with a solid campaign like a mission to Mars was a very smart move, it’s exactly what this game needs.

Is this a good game?

One question people love to throw at me, as if I’m shuffling tarot cards behind the scenes, is: “Will this be a good game?” And as always, I have the same answer when it comes to RPGs.

RPGs are good games because they’re not really games. They’re experiences. An RPG is only ever as good as the group you sit down with. That is the secret truth of the hobby. So the real question with The Pioneer isn’t “Is it good?” but rather: Does its subject matter excite you and the people you play with? Because if it does, the rest tends to take care of itself.

My advice to all role-players, especially those who’ve spent their entire hobby life inside the comfortable walls of Dungeons & Dragons, is simple: explore. For gods’ sake, explore other RPGs. There’s an entire universe of creativity out there. Designers are pouring their imagination, innovation, and occasionally their sanity into projects like this. And I can say with near certainty: if the theme speaks to you, you will find something to love in the game, whatever it is.

So go out there, support your community, and give games like The Pioneer a chance. This is a wonderful project, and absolutely one worth investing in.

Dolmenwood – Kickstarter Has Arrived!

As a general rule, I don’t touch Kickstarters with a ten-foot wizard’s staff. Too often, they feel less like scrappy dream-fueled projects and more like corporate “fund me” jars rattling for coins, a kind of alchemy I find, frankly, a bit of hogwash. If you’ve got the treasure hoard to make a game, then by the gods of dice and destiny, make it, release it, and I’ll happily toss my gold pieces into your coffers for a completed product. Misuse of the platform is as common as goblins in a mushroom glade, it irritates me to no end.

But every so often, a true conjurer of words and worlds appears, someone who uses Kickstarter exactly as it was meant to be: as a lantern-lit path for dreamers without publishers, great houses, or corporate dragons backing them. These are the brave creators weaving wonders with nothing but ink, imagination, and maybe a touch of faerie dust.

Dolmenwood is one such marvel, sprung from the mind of Gavin Norman of Necrotic Gnome. For a few years now, Gavin has been quietly brewing some of the most curious, creative, and downright enchanting projects in the roleplaying sphere. These are the kinds of things that would never survive the soulless glare of a big publisher’s boardroom, too niche, too strange, too delightfully weird. Exactly the sort of creations adventurers like me crave.

From the spellbinding Old School Essentials (a meticulous, love-drenched re-edit of Basic/Expert Dungeons & Dragons) to a treasure trove of smaller adventures, the cheeky and delightful Carcass Crawler zine, and now an entirely new game built around his own fairy-tale fever dream: Dolmenwood.

I have talked a lot on this blog about Old School Essentials. I ran a 3 year campaign using the system and it performed beautifully. It made me a fan of Gavin Norman. He makes a lot of good stuff.

I’ve been waiting for this one. Patiently, well, mostly, for nearly two years, ever since I pledged back in September 2023. And now, at long last, the package has arrived on my doorstep like a mysterious parcel left by a mossy-footed pooka. To say I’m buzzing would be an understatement. I tore into it with the giddy energy of a halfling spotting second breakfast.

One of the many charms of this whole journey is that Gavin has been an absolute wizard of communication, keeping us updated since day one with missives, sneak peeks, and development notes that felt like dispatches from the enchanted woods themselves. He gave us that personal touch, so even before my box of goodies arrived, I already felt like I’d been walking alongside the project every step of the way. I had been watching the trailer for two years, now I finally got to see the full production.

Today, we’re diving headlong into Dolmenwood. I’ll tell you what’s in the box, we’ll explore the game and its myth-soaked setting, and, most importantly, we’ll discuss who this game is for. So grab a cup of something hot and spiced, lean back in your favorite chair by the hearth, and settle in, because this is going to be a BIG article.

What is Dolmenwood About?

The very first question my friends asked, before I’d even cracked open the box, was: “Okay, but what exactly is Dolmenwood?” A fair place to start, I think, though a simple question this is not.

The best way to answer is to split Dolmenwood into two halves: first, how it works as a game system, and second, what it is as a fantasy world and story engine.

Dolmenwood as a Game

At its heart, Dolmenwood feels like a curious blend of two schools of design. On one side, it clearly draws heavily from Old School Essentials (OSE), Gavin Norman’s brilliant revival of 1980s Basic/Expert Dungeons & Dragons. On the other, it borrows the best lessons of modern narrative-first RPGs, which put storytelling, character invention, and immersion ahead of crunchy rules.

Now, that might sound like oil and water to some. After all, when many people hear “1st edition D&D,” they picture a rules labyrinth: THAC0 charts, descending AC, bizarre subsystems, and the heavy hand of the dice. Dolmenwood is not that. It doesn’t replicate old-school rules, it reimagines old-school concepts, polishing them into something that feels sleek and accessible to modern tables, but secretly, yes its old school rules. Confused?

To old dogs like me, this is just my adolescent stomping grounds, but I’m not blind to the fact that you have to really be glutton for punishment to still use systems that look like this today. There are better ways.

Ok so to be clear, there are no THAC0 charts, no wargame math, no headaches of deciphering unclear and unforgiving rules for which old school D&D is famous. For anyone coming from 5e, the rules will feel familiar and welcoming, even though for all intents and purposes, these are in fact old school rules. Imagine if a modern game designer, could travel back in time and advise Gygax on the fundamentals of rules writing and game design. Most of the decisions here are common sense for todays standards, but there is a clear focus on capturing the core concepts of these old school rules which (some of us old school guys) really do love. So its the good parts of these rules, without all the non-sense, which, when you get right down to it starts to look very much like a light, alternative, but modern version of D&D.

What Dolmenwood does carry forward from its old-school ancestry is the philosophy: this is not a game of superhero characters with endless feats and powers. It is low fantasy, low magic, high peril. A sword to the gut will probably kill you. You’re fragile mortals, not demigods, and that fragility is what makes your bravery meaningful. In Dolmenwood, you are heroes not because of your hit points, but because you willingly risk your tiny candle-flame lives in a world full of wolves, witches, and weirder things still.

Dolmenwood is not completely absolved of old school gaming shenanigan’s that deserve to stay dead and buried. For example, getting an XP bonus or penalty for having too low or too high prime ability score is just silly. There is some logic to it, but it dirties the waters in my opinion unnecessarily.

Of course as was the case in classic D&D, magic remains the great equalizer. Power often comes from what you find: a scroll, a wand, a ring, a talisman, the coveted equipment that often makes the difference between life with bags of holding full of treasure and horrifically tragic death at the end of a spear. Dolmenwood leans into that old-school rhythm where exploration and treasure-hunting matter to your prospects of survival and success. In fact, equipment is survival; resources are power, the story is about that glorious rise from a mere nobody to a powerful agent in the world.

Dolmenwood as a Story

Where Dolmenwood really unfurls its colors, though, is as a setting-first game. The rules exist, yes, but they feel more like a stagehand pulling ropes than the star of the show. Storytelling and atmosphere take center stage. In that sense, it leans closer to narrative-driven games like Vampire: The Masquerade or newer experiments like Daggerheart, where the drama lives in the back-and-forth between Game Master and players, rather then execution of rules.

This is why Dolmenwood’s books are so massive. The books are mainly tapestry of herbs, fungi, folklore, factions, fairies, pipeweed blends, oddball traditions, and richly described places. (Yes, there’s literally a two-page spread on different varieties of pipeleaf, and another on common fungi. You don’t need these details, but oh, how they make the world breathe.)

The game invites players not just to survive, but to inhabit. Characters don’t begin with a scripted epic or a railroad adventure paths. Instead, they’re handed a living sandbox, an open world alive with secrets, strange folk, and tangled politics.

At the start, you know almost nothing. You’re level 1 peasants with little more than a rusty sword, a pocketful of pipeweed and big dreams. The world is wide, mysterious, and dangerous, and you must carve your own path in it. The magic lies in how your choices, what goals you set, who you befriend, and which factions you side with slowly shape your story. The game doesn’t hand you a narrative; it hands you a place, filled with people with their own motivations and events brimming with fairy tales, and trusts you to grow a narrative out of it.

Dolmenwood is a stage ripe for theatre, something made clear from its evocative art and the writing style, even though theatre is not really traditionally an old school core ideology.

Over time, as you explore deeper, you begin to see the strings: the larger story of Dolmenwood itself. The factions, the plots, the creeping powers behind the veil. Small adventures tie into greater ones, and before you realize it, your once-humble would be adventurer is entangled in the grand weave of politics, prophecy, and faerie mischief.

And every inch of this playground is meticulously detailed. The campaign book runs a staggering 465 pages, stuffed with lore, locations, NPCs, and oddities. Every hollow, every hamlet, every mushroom ring feels like it has a story waiting to be uncovered, it feels that way because it is that way.

So yes, Dolmenwood is a game of rules. But more than that, it is a world, a moss-carpeted, fungus-studded, pipe-smoke-wreathed world, ripe for infinite exploration.

The Dolmenwood Setting

Let’s be clear: as a game system, Gavin Norman hasn’t reinvented the wheel. The “open world, make-your-own-adventure” style of play has been part of the D&D tradition for decades. But Dolmenwood tips its mossy cap to those old-school roots while polishing them for a modern audience, and I’m delighted to report that this approach is making a hearty comeback across the hobby.

Where Dolmenwood becomes something truly unique, where the real fairy-dust sparkles, is in its setting. This is no cookie-cutter fantasy world. In fact, I don’t think anything like it exists in today’s RPG landscape. It’s bold, strange, and deeply imaginative, so much so that it might even feel a little unsettling to players who are used to the safety blanket of Tolkien-inspired worlds.

Most fantasy settings lean heavily (sometimes lazily) on the Tolkien template: elves, dwarves, orcs, kingdoms, repeat. Dolmenwood gleefully shatters those expectations while still remaining recognizably “fantasy.” Its fairy-tale woods are bizarre, whimsical, and very dangerous. Nothing unfolds quite the way you expect, there are fewer recognizable fantasy troupes that players will connect with from other familiar settings. It’s geared towards real exploration, not the exploration of yet another alternative version The Forgotten Realms.

If I had to reach for an analogy, I’d say Dolmenwood is like a strange potion brewed from equal parts Harry Potter, Narnia, Legend and The Never Ending Story, with just enough Tolkien sprinkled in to keep it grounded. Fey folk, enchanted groves, and peculiar traditions abound, Gavin Norman delights in breaking expectations whenever possible.

The 1980’s classic Legend is a mostly forgotten film despite the fact that it was directed by Ridley Scott and stared a young Tom Cruise. It depicts a truly original fantasy world that departs from the Tolkien roots while still remaining oddly familiar as a fantasy world. It’s kind of the same effect Dolmenwood has when you read it.

Even at the character-creation stage, the game asks players to embrace the unusual. You can play a proud goat-headed Breggle, or a small, pipe-smoking Mossling, who feels like a halfling raised in a damp mushroom hollow. Sure, there are humans and elves, but they aren’t the focus. Dolmenwood itself is the wilderness, the edge of the map, the place where weirdness is the default.

The strangeness continues with classes. While you can still pick a Fighter or Cleric, you’ll also find uniquely Dolmenwood roles like the Enchanter, the wandering Friar, the cunning Hunter, and the noble Knight.

Magic, too, is peculiar and deeply rooted in folklore. While there are plenty of familiar things like the generic fireballs of high fantasy, spells draw on fairy glamour, rune-carved standing stones, ley lines, herbal concoctions, and fungi with names that sound like they were whispered by trickster spirits. It feels less like a spell list and more like a hedge witch’s grimoire.

But what elevates Dolmenwood above all else is the way the world itself is built. Nothing is random. Every ruined keep, every ancient shrine, every mossy mound is tied into the greater tapestry of Dolmenwood’s history. Stumble upon an abandoned tower in the woods, and you’ll eventually learn how it connects to the factions, politics, and hidden stories of the land. Nothing is throwaway. Nothing is meaningless. There is purpose and often you will not understand that purpose until later in your adventure, these locations become future lightbulbs for the players to connect in a larger story.

For players, this creates a delightful sense of discovery and self-importance, a logical puzzle where every new clue makes the world sharper and more comprehensible, known only to them. Knowledge that they can leverage in pursuit of their own success if they are clever.

For DMs, it’s a godsend: a pre-built web of places, people, and events that all interlock seamlessly. Players will feel clever as they connect the dots, while you’ll always have the tools to support their choices.

All of this is brought together in the Campaign Book, a masterpiece of editing and design. It combines event-driven encounters with location-based hex maps, giving you the freedom to run Dolmenwood as a true sandbox.

The one page layout approach of the campaign book is perfect for use at the table, you are a 2-3 minute read away from being able to run any area with plenty of flavor and direction, there is no need to read anything in advance even though you will not be able to help yourself.

What makes it brilliant is its clarity. You don’t need to read 100 pages ahead or memorize obscure lore. Every location is laid out in a simple, precise format: history, features, atmosphere, day/night differences, and the secrets that might be uncovered. No wasted words, no bloat, just clean, evocative notes that give the DM everything they need without scripting the events of an adventure.

Take The Craven Mounds, for example. In just a single page you’ll learn what the mounds look like, their unsettling history, the strange shrine hidden among them, the difference between visiting by day or by night, and which creatures prowl there. It’s enough to spark a full evening of play, while leaving room for you to weave it into the larger story. It’s connection to lay lines give it deeper meaning that might become important to the players later and then there is of course the real question, what are they for? The answer is not nothing and its this sort of intrigue that drives the Dolmenwood drama, a purpose in everything.

This structure repeats across the entire book: compact, flavorful descriptions that give you narrative cues and storytelling beats without ever tying your hands. The result is that your players can go anywhere, chase anything, and you’ll always be ready. It’s the kind of prep support most DMs dream about.

Dolmenwood is a sandbox done right: players get freedom, you get preparation, and the world itself does the heavy lifting.

What’s In The Box

While I don’t usually do kickstarters, if and when I decide to donate my hard-earned gold coins to a project, I don’t fuss about; I go all in for the full monty. I went for the limited edition loot box which includes pretty much everything except for a few of the “non-game” related items like T-shirts, buttons and stuff like that. It was a $200 dollar box and includes everything that is designed for the full Dolmenwood experience.

The Books

Let me say this right out of the gate: if you pick up these Dolmenwood books and are not utterly gobsmacked by their quality, then I’d like to meet the little green gremlins piloting your brain. The production values are jaw-dropping, perhaps the best I’ve ever seen in tabletop RPG publishing. The only comparable recent release is Daggerheart, and honestly, Dolmenwood still wins the duel, particularly when it comes to editing and layout.

These books are a dream to reference. The language is clean, concise, and direct, no wading through two paragraphs of purple prose just to extract one useful rule. Everything you need is right where you expect it to be.

Gavin Norman has always had a sharp editorial hand, OSE already proved that, but here, he’s outdone himself. This feels like divine work, a new gold standard for RPG book design. From this point forward, anything less will feel like sloppy wizardry. Work like this makes Wizard of the Coast publications look like incompetent goblins are running the company.

The Player’s Book

One of the trickiest challenges in RPG design is convincing players to actually read beyond the rules. When a game has a unique setting, as Dolmenwood certainly does, the danger is that players learn just enough mechanics to roll dice and stop there, never really tasting the flavor of the world.

The Players Book is a very handy reference for pretty much everything you need to know about Dolmenwood as a game, but its a bit light on giving players story based direction in my humble opinion.

I think Gavin understood this problem. The Player’s Book takes a deliberate approach: keep it short, sharp, and reference-friendly, while leaving the bulk of the lore and storytelling muscle to the Campaign Book. On one level, it works brilliantly. This is a book you don’t need to read cover-to-cover. Instead, it’s a handy companion that breaks the game into digestible chunks, how to make a character, how adventuring and combat work, how the physical universe ticks along. As a quick-start guide to “what is this game, mechanically?” it’s flawless. Often players books that are filled with lore between the pages, create an issue when you actually just want to look up some rules at the table, you won’t find problems like that in this players book.

But here’s the rub: Dolmenwood isn’t a system-first game. Yes, the rules matter, but the beating heart of the experience is the setting. It’s the moss, the pipeweed, the grimalkin, the fey bargains, the eerie ruins waiting in the mist. And I worry the Player’s Book doesn’t give enough of that to the people who arguably need it most, the players themselves. They need the inspiration for character creation and the grounding for their plans because this is after all, a open world game where players are expected to seek out the adventure on their own. How can they be expected to do that if they don’t know much about the place where that adventure is to take place?

Sure, there are delightful sprinkles of flavor scattered throughout. The races and classes ooze personality. The languages, gear, food, and drink entries all sneak in playful, flavorful cultural details. And there’s a particularly excellent chapter called “The Adventure” that does a stellar job explaining what role-playing actually looks like in Dolmenwood, complete with examples that make the difference between “rolling dice” and “telling a story” crystal clear.

Still, I can’t help but wish for just one more chapter, a lore dump, a short but rich introduction that gives players a real sense of what Dolmenwood feels like to live in. There is a kind of two page layout of major factions and settlements as a reference but its just not enough.

This is because while mechanics get us rolling, it’s the setting that inspires us to play. We don’t pick between Alien and Star Trek Adventures because of their initiative systems, we pick them because one is about horror in the void and the other is about utopian space diplomacy. It’s the story behind the game that drives the whole thing.

And Dolmenwood, for all its mossy brilliance, deserves that same up-front love and it should be in the first chapter of the players book. It’s absence I think in particular with players like mine, will be a bit of a problem.

As it stands, the Player’s Book is beautifully illustrated, brilliantly organized, and a joy to use, but I’d argue it’s just shy of being the perfect guide for players. A little more lore, and it would be flawless.

The Campaign Book

Ah, the Campaign Book. This towering tome isn’t just a rulebook, it’s a storybook atlas of wonder, equal parts practical GM guide and enchanting fireside read. From the very first page, I was grinning like a mischievous faun. Gavin’s writing is clever, breezy, and endlessly readable, just enough flourish to make it fun, but never so much that you lose track of the game-ready details. It’s splendid, cover to cover.

This is the meat and potatoes of Dolmenwood, written in a style that makes this entire book a page turner you will want to read cover to cover.

Now that I’ve got the finished version in my hands, with all its lavish illustrations, it feels like a treasure pulled straight out of a mossy chest. The art captures the words perfectly: whimsical, eerie, and evocative all at once. The character portraits especially are so vivid you can practically hear their voices, quirks, and mannerisms leaping off the page.

At first glance, one might assume Dolmenwood’s open-world, West Marches–style design means there’s no central story, just a big faerie sandbox. But that’s a trick of the briars. Hidden among the hexes and hamlets is an overarching narrative, an honest-to-goodness tale threading its way through people, places, and events. I won’t spoil it here (the delights of discovery belong to the reader!), but trust me: it’s there, and it’s wonderfully easy for a GM to weave into play.

The ink art is absolutely amazing, crafted to depict the bizarre world of Dolmenwood with a nod to classic D&D that is unmistakable.

The settlements section alone deserves applause. Each one feels like its own mini-campaign in a bottle, bursting with unique cultures, strange laws, and peculiar inhabitants. There’s no generic “town” or “city” here, every settlement is a little gem of fairy-tale worldbuilding, more bizarre and enchanting than the last. Its like reading Harry Potters version of England, except you have a wide array of cities from all over the world to explore, each wildly different from the next. They’re richly described in the Campaign Book and beautifully backed up in the accompanying Maps Book.

And then there’s the heart of it: the hex-crawl. A full third of this 460+ page grimoire is devoted to detailed hex locations, and they are a masterclass in design. Each entry can be digested in a couple of minutes, giving you just enough to run the area with confidence, but always laced with hints and connections that pull you deeper. It’s impossible to flip through without “cheating” as a DM, sneaking ahead to peek at how people, places, and events intertwine. Those connections are exactly what players will discover in play, and they’re intoxicating. You’ll want to run Dolmenwood the moment you put the book down.

Of course, the Campaign Book also comes stocked with the GM essentials: magic items, curious equipment, random tables, charts, and all the toys you need to answer the question, “What if my players…?” Whether your party sets out to plunder dungeons, open a tavern hawking strange ales, or establish a kingdom in the mist, you’ll have what you need within a page flip. That’s the real magic of this book, it makes running Dolmenwood feel effortless.

In short: I absolutely love this book. Honestly, if Dolmenwood had shipped with only the Campaign Book, it still would have been worth the price of admission.

The Supporting Tools

Dolmenwood comes with its share of frivolous extras (see below), but the real treasures for a GM are the supporting tools, clever, practical, and brimming with utility.

The Monster Book

This volume is a delight. The illustrations are gorgeous, the entries lean hard into roleplay cues, and the mechanics always come with a twist or two. Many of these creatures aren’t meant to be generic foes but unique denizens of Dolmenwood, weird, singular beings with their own origins woven into the setting’s lore.

An fantasy RPG is incomplete without a monster book, but frankly I have so many of these you have to do something really special to make it worth are time. In my humble opinion, Gavin nailed it, you cannot run Dolmenwood without this book and maintain it’s unique character.

That’s the real trick here: every monster’s backstory matters. Their histories and methods of creation often double as clues for how clever players might deal with them.

One of my favorite touches is the chart of monster rumors, half true, half deliberately false. They’re perfect for seeding tavern gossip, confusing players, or foreshadowing a lurking horror in the woods. It’s playful and practical, like the rest of the books.

The thing about most monster books for me personally is that I find that they are usually generic replications of pretty standard fantasy monsters that I have seen scraped together based on everything that has come before in D&D. This book is unique to the setting and you could not run Dolmenwood without it. Its a must have to do this setting justice and t ensure its well executed.

The Maps Book

Think of this as a stack of enchanted lenses. Each map presents Dolmenwood filtered through a different lens: political boundaries, faction domains, herb and fungus distribution, shrine locations, ley lines, and more (no spoilers!).

This is without a doubt a luxury, not really something you need, but having a lot of material that is easy to reference allows you to answer wacky questions that might come up unexpectedly and that is a nice touch to making the world feel lived in for the players. I like it.

For a DM, it’s an absolute luxury. Need to know which lord rules the next region? Or which strange herb grows in that hex? Flip a page and it’s there. The book also includes full-page settlement illustrations, styled to reflect local culture. They’re mostly for flavor, but oh, what flavor. Pull one out mid-session, and your players instantly feel the character of the place.

It’s not a necessity by any stretch, but its cool and I can definitely see myself using it.

The GM Screen

I’ll be honest: I’m not usually a GM screen fan. It can feel like a wall between me and the table. But if ever there was a screen that earns its keep, this is it.

I don’t use DM screens generally, but so far as they go, this is a pretty useful one.

Printed on thick, sturdy board, it’s packed with genuinely useful reference material: combat reminders, weapon traits, faction names, settlement lists, and those regional pronunciations you’re bound to butcher under pressure.

Again, not a necessity, but sure, why not.

The Adventures

The box also comes with four stand-alone adventures tailored to Dolmenwood:

  • Winter’s Daughter
  • Emelda’s Song
  • The Fungus That Came to Blackswell
  • The Ruined Abbey of St. Clewyd

Each one can be prepped in about fifteen minutes and run on the fly, short, sharp, and clearly laid out so you’re never bogged down in text when you should be running the table.

They’re tied into Dolmenwood’s broader story web, but they also work independently as bite-sized campaigns. And while I haven’t run them yet, I backed Dolmenwood largely because of Gavin Norman’s adventures. His style is unpredictable, evocative, and brimming with creativity, exactly the kind of storytelling that surprises even veteran GMs.

Winter’s Daughter is probobly THE adventure that made me a fan of Gavin Normans creativity and led to me buying Dolmenwood.

More importantly it doesn’t overcook your prep. This isn’t a story laid out point by point, or just a bunch of location place descriptions, its more of an adventure guide that gives you the basics and you fill in the rest. Though it gives you enough so that you don’t have to plan or think about it in advance, you’ll be able to run these on the fly.

That’s the mark of a good adventure writer: giving you something you couldn’t have conjured up yourself. These adventures hit that mark. Brilliant work, full stop.

The Frivolous Fun Stuff

Beyond the core treasures of Dolmenwood, the box also comes sprinkled with a handful of whimsical oddities, frivolous, yes, but delightful all the same. Think of them as the shiny baubles and enchanted trinkets you might find tucked into a mossy hollow after a long woodland ramble.

First up: funny dice. Yes, Dolmenwood blesses you with a set of charming polyhedrals, your trusty click-clack friends, ready to be rolled in fury or folly. Then there’s a jaunty little Dolmenwood patch, perfect for sewing onto a bag, cloak, or perhaps the satchel you take into the woods when mushroom-picking. Add in access to a digital soundtrack (more on that in a moment), and, most surprisingly, a full set of miniatures.

I tend not to use miniatures in my RPG sessions, mainly because I want combat to be just an extension of role-playing rather than a “mini combat game” we play periodically when a fight breaks out. But I love collecting and painting miniatures so these are going to get some paint regardless, because they are pretty unique.

Now, as a longtime lover of pewter and plastic adventurers, I must say the minis were the most delightful surprise, mostly because I had completely forgotten they were included! These are single-mold game pieces already perched on bases, sturdy and practical. No, they’re not dripping with hyper-detailed resin flair, but they’re absolutely paintable, and more importantly, they embody Dolmenwood’s curious cast of races and classes. Goatfolk, moss dwarfs, grimalkin, and other odd denizens you won’t find in your average fantasy bestiary, they’re here in charming form, ready to stalk across your tabletop. For anyone who likes to use minis in play, these are a genuine boon.

The soundtracks, meanwhile, are a touch of magic I didn’t realize I needed. I adore setting the mood at the table with music, and Dolmenwood’s offerings are wonderfully distinctive. There’s a proper “music” soundtrack, full of strange rhythms that feel like a cross between old-school video game tunes and eerie X-Files-esque mystery. Then there are the atmospheric tracks, which I think are the real gems. These are subtle soundscapes, whispers of wind, the patter of rain, the creak of branches, the low murmur of something uncanny just beyond sight. Many are region-specific, perfectly tailored to accompany particular areas of the setting.

Together, they capture the peculiar, otherworldly vibe of Dolmenwood in a way that words alone can’t. You can practically smell the damp moss and hear the flap of a nightbird’s wings.

So yes, these extras may be the garnish rather than the feast, but they’re flavorful little morsels all the same. Cool stuff, and wholly in keeping with Dolmenwood’s knack for enchanting the senses.

Conclusion – Who Is Dolmenwood For?

I’d love to say Dolmenwood is for anyone who loves fantasy and role-playing games, but that would be too broad, and not entirely fair. This is a unique world and a very particular system, and not everyone will vibe with it.

If you grew up with old-school Dungeons & Dragons, particularly the stranger, more experimental settings of 1st and 2nd edition, Dolmenwood will feel like a nostalgic return to form. It has the same bold departure from Tolkien tropes that made worlds like Dark Sun and Planescape so compelling, while still carrying that classic sense of story-driven adventure that made D&D a phenomenon in the first place.

For modern audiences raised on 3rd, 4th, or especially 5th edition, the appeal is more complicated. The setting, whimsical, fairy-tale, tinged with Narnia, Harry Potter and Neverending Story, may hook you immediately. But mechanically, this is not a game of heroic power curves, feat chains, or endless character builds. Dolmenwood is not about gaming the system, it’s about dynamic narrative play. Growth is slower, victories are hard-won, and characters are fragile. If you try to play it like 5e, leaning on dice and mechanics to bail you out, you will die. Often. This is a game that rewards planning, cunning, and creativity over brute force.

And yet, this might be exactly what modern players are looking for. Many D&D players openly admit they find the modern rendition of the game too easy, too bloated with safety nets, too focused on “powers” rather than theatre. Dolmenwood offers a refreshing change of pace: a system that strips things back, trusts the players, and invites you to rediscover role-playing as a collaborative story first and foremost.

That’s why Dolmenwood matters. It’s not just a curiosity, it’s part of a broader movement in the hobby. Games like Blades in the Dark, Shadowdark, and Daggerheart, along with the OSR revival, are all pushing role-playing back toward dynamic player-driven experiences. Dolmenwood stands proudly in that lineage, and in many ways raises the bar for what a modern fantasy RPG can look like despite its nostalgic nod to classic D&D play.

Now I would personally argue if you really want to experience a modern RPG as a design, Daggerheart is just pure magic. But as a built in story, combined with clever writing and an amazing set for theatre, Dolmenwood is also a fantastic choice.

So yes, I recommend it. Wholeheartedly. Not because it will replace D&D at every table, but because it reminds us that fantasy role-playing can be stranger, braver, and more imaginative than the well-worn Tolkien mold. Dolmenwood is extraordinary, a design triumph, a storytelling feast, and a bold step in the right direction for the hobby.

Gamersdungeon DM Guild Content

I don’t usually go around waving a banner that says I have self-published material for Dungeons and Dragons fifth edition on the DM Guild. It has always felt a little strange, even though it makes perfect sense. This is a gaming blog; I live and breathe this hobby, and every so often, I even create something new for it. So if I’ve been busy writing books, I should probably share them here.

So forgive me for a moment of self-indulgence. Imagine me as a slightly overexcited dungeon master showing off the treasure hoard I have put together. I’m rather proud of what I have crafted, and today I’m going to walk you through some of my creations I released on the DM Guild over the last year.

The Book of Backgrounds – Family Legacies

I published two books under this book series so far (Volume I & Volume II).

The book is compatible with 2014 and 2025 rules, though it was geared towards the latest version of 5th edition.

When the 2024 edition of Dungeons and Dragons arrived and backgrounds were reworked, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something important had been lost. The change wasn’t just a missed opportunity; it left backgrounds feeling hollow.

To me, and I think to many players and DM’s, a background should be more than a list of proficiencies or a couple of languages. It should be a springboard for role-playing, a hook for the dungeon master, and a way to breathe life into a character. Back in the 2014 edition, backgrounds had Personality Traits, Ideals, Bonds and Flaws. That little system added flavor and direction. It helped define how a character acted, what they believed in, and how they might respond under pressure. I loved it as both a player and a dungeon master.

But when the 2024 edition stripped that out without offering a real replacement, the result felt bland. Suddenly, backgrounds became purely mechanical. Useful, sure, but lacking heart. A soldier or acolyte was just a line of text with no soul behind it.

That is where Family Legacies came in. I wanted to put the narrative weight back into backgrounds and give them some teeth. Each legacy is built around a family history, a story that shapes the character you are playing. Maybe your ancestor was a notorious tyrant, a fabled duelist, or a beloved gladiator who spilled blood and won hearts in the arena. That history lingers, and you inherit the echoes of their legend.

The second volume practically wrote itself. I essentially released volumes I and II almost at the same time. Volume III has been tougher.

Each book features ten of these legacies. Writing them was a joy, but I felt they still needed something extra. That is why I designed special feats and tools for each legacy. These were not just mechanical add-ons, they were expressions of the story itself, giving each background a unique twist that tied directly to its lore.

The series has done well for something dreamed up by an amateur designer scribbling away in his free time. More importantly, it has been a blast to create. I fully plan to round out the set with a third and final volume later this year.

The Lost Citadel

It was my hope that creating adventures would also be a sort of series thing where I would write several over time, but writing adventures is a lot of work, and I don’t always have the free time to indulge.

Back in the eighties, just about every dungeon master secretly dreamed of publishing their own adventure. In a way, we all did it already whenever we scribbled maps on graph paper or cooked up villains with far too many hit points. But very few of us ever saw those creations appear in print.

Fast forward a few decades, and thanks to the magic of Dungeon Masters Guild and RPG DriveThru, that dream is no longer locked away in a dusty spellbook. Anyone can share their creations with the world, and if you craft something that really clicks, it can even be rewarding in more ways than one.

For me, that dream took shape in The Lost Citadel. I poured myself into this adventure, writing, rewriting, testing, tinkering, and dreaming. When it was finally finished, I felt like a kid again, except this time I actually had the published book in my hands.

The adventure itself is straightforward by design. I did not want to create something overly complex, but I also refused to churn out a bland dungeon crawl. In The Lost Citadel, players must contend with the mad wizard Vorlath Zevharak, who once sought to become a lich. His ritual failed, and instead of eternal mastery, he cursed himself into becoming a wraith.

I know the use of A.I. art is controversial, but creating adventures and content for D&D is neither a business nor a serious ambition. It’s a hobby I do for fun.

The citadel is crumbling, the players are trapped by one of Vorlath’s sinister snares, and the halls swarm with the undead. At one point, a horde of zombies crashes in with a frenzy that feels straight out of World War Z. And of course, it all builds toward the final confrontation with Vorlath himself, alongside his monstrous undead ogre companion.

I kept the setting intentionally loose so dungeon masters could drop it right into their own worlds without much fuss. That flexibility, I think, is part of why it resonated so well. The feedback was glowing, and to this day I have not had to patch a single plot hole. It just works.

I am ridiculously proud of this one. For me, The Lost Citadel is proof that a childhood dream can survive into adulthood and still feel just as epic when it finally comes true.

Boss Fights

It’s a small book, but I love the way it turned out. I have myself used it in a number of adventures; my players fear my creations!

If you have ever run a campaign, you know that creating monsters is practically part of the job description. No matter how many monster manuals Wizards of the Coast puts out, sooner or later, you find yourself needing a creature that just does not exist.

One of the long-standing challenges in 5th edition is the solo monster. The official stat blocks often struggle when one big creature has to face off against a whole party. The action economy tilts the scales so badly that your supposed epic boss ends up feeling more like a speed bump.

This is not a new problem either. Dungeons and Dragons has wrestled with it across editions, and it never quite goes away. That frustration is what sparked Boss Fights: Volume I. I wanted to give dungeon masters tools to run battles that truly felt like climactic showdowns, where the party has to dig deep and work together to win.

Now, this is a smaller book, but it packs a punch. Inside are three solo monsters designed to be dropped into your campaign at different levels of play. The Dread Dog Hydra is a three-headed beast inspired in part by a certain famous guard dog from Harry Potter. Anthera, the Queen of the Deep Colony, is a demonic insect monarch who rules with mandibles of terror. And The Umbra Claw is a shadowy hunter drawn from my love of the Predator movies.

These little evil critters have become a common nuisance in all my campaigns, to such a degree that one of my players actually used them as inspiration for a tattoo.

Each monster is presented in a style that will feel familiar to fans of the old 2nd edition monster manuals. You get descriptions of ecology, lairs, and tactics, not just a wall of numbers. Mechanically, I introduced systems like multi-initiative to keep bosses dangerous and unpredictable, as well as a minion mechanic inspired by fourth edition. Both mechanics are designed to balance out the action economy.

It may be a slim volume, but it is one I hope to expand on. My long-term plan is to build enough of these creatures to eventually release a dedicated boss monster manual. For now, Volume I stands as proof that boss fights can be just as thrilling on the tabletop as they are in your favorite video games.

The A.I. Art Controversy

There is one topic that always seems to stir up debate in the amateur publishing world, and that is the use of A.I. art.

I use A.I. art myself, and I understand why some people find it questionable. For most professional publishing, relying on A.I. is a tricky path. But I think there is an exception when it comes to hobbyist creators like me.

For me, these books are purely for fun. I have no ambitions to become a professional publisher, no dreams of “making it big.” I create because I love the process. I honestly would not mind giving these books away for free.

Like many fans, I also enjoy supporting other amateur creators. So I charge a little for my books, just enough to build a small cushion, and then I happily spend that money on other people’s content. This is basically how the Dungeon Masters Guild community works.

A.I. Art may be controversial but I don’t think technology is something to fear or get upset about. I mean, the results are cool, but it’s very obvious that it’s not original work. I don’t think A.I. art is ever going to replace the creative process.

A.I. art is just a tool to give my books a bit of visual flair. I have no interest in investing serious money into illustrations or trying to monetize these creations. It is all about enjoying the creative process, and I think that is fine.

If I ever treated publishing as a real business, I would definitely hire professional artists to illustrate my books. And I firmly believe that anyone approaching this as a serious commercial venture should avoid relying on A.I. art.