What makes us fall in love with a story? Do we see ourselves in the characters, the champions with whom we can identify and invest? Is it the world itself, full of novelty and danger? These things, as imagined by an author, are brought to life to give us, the readers, a journey to embark on. The characters are our companions, and the endings can be so rewarding, that we are left craving far more than the author can provide. How can we continue to explore the worlds we love, after the last page has been turned? Let’s consider role-playing games.
Early in 2020, some of my friends convinced me to try Dungeons & Dragons (D&D). My immediate reaction was that it sounded too nerdy for me. I was never interested in tabletop role-playing games (TTRPGs) despite my love for video games of a similar theme. At the time, I was in the middle of the first term in my MFA program, and I was fixated on my work. I have these lofty dreams about transforming education and the accessibility of social philosophy, and pretending to be a wizard or warrior didn’t quite fit that mold. Thankfully, my friends insisted, and being a stellium Sagittarius, I’m always willing to try new things.
Consider some of your favorite characters and stories. What is a moment, or a choice made, that has stayed with you? What has made you laugh, or cry? What did you fall in love with? Take your character (I’m going to use Jon Snow from Game of Thrones) and think about their story and setting. Jon is from a grimdark epic fantasy world, full of political betrayal, ice zombies, and fearsome dragons. Now, let’s toss them into an entirely different environment. My Jon Snow, but in Futurama’s 31st century New New York.
How would he get on? What would his day job be? His friends? How would he dress? If we just planted him as is, he would probably lose his mind. So instead, imagine that he was from that world. Same person: moody, stoic, and honorable, even to his detriment. Different world: whimsical, futuristic, and vast. What could we learn about Jon Snow, from seeing him live there? What could you learn if you were there alongside him?
There is so much we can learn from a world if we get to walk in it. I invite you to consider D&D and TTRPGs as a means of getting to know your favorite characters, stories, and environment as beings and places with a life all their own. To use role-play to explore yourself in different settings, and actively experience endless stories.
Tabletop role-playing games are a type of video or board game that you play through storytelling and dialogue. These days they are mostly virtual, though some people play on real boards and tabletops. Typically, there is one Dungeon Master (DM) who controls the world and non-player characters (NPCs), and one or several players who make a character and act them out in the game world. If you’ve played any role-playing video games, the game itself serves as the DM while you are the player. When you attempt to do anything, like attack an enemy or convince someone that Futurama is a fantastic show, the game emulates skill and success with random dice rolls, usually out of 20. For example, if you play a persuasive character, you might have +4 to Persuasion whenever your DM alerts you that your attempted action requires a dice roll, or skill check. That +4 represents your skill, and the random dice roll (usually out of 20) represents your chance of success. This way, a player’s ability influences an otherwise random chance of success.
Let’s imagine Jon Snow again. A simple stat sheet for him would likely involve high strength and dexterity to represent that he is a warrior at heart. However, how would that serve him in New New York? Fry (Futurama’s erstwhile hero), on the other hand, is really likable, so he may have high charisma but low intelligence. Where can that get him in Westeros? If these characters attempt to do something that they are good at, they are more likely to succeed, and the inverse is also true. Fry probably isn’t passing a whole lot of Intelligence checks, and Jon would probably be really good at moving heavy boxes.
You can take your favorite characters and play them in the game world, or make your own and play them in a game emulating the world of a story you enjoyed. We could play Jon Snow, in a game based in New New York. Or, we could play an original character in a game centered around the Night’s Watch. In either case, the story not only continues, but we get to be active participants.
In my preparatory D&D meeting, or Session 0, my DM walked me through creating a player character to use in the game via Discord voice chat. I had no idea who or what to play. The entire thing felt so silly. At the time, I was working on an essay describing position and identity as they relate to politics and socialization in America. I wanted to expand this project in my MFA into something greater. Floating elsewhere in my neurons was a fantasy novel. It was just an idea, an artistic escape, full of elves and magic and demons and witch gods. A pet project I never took seriously. Since I was only playing to appease my friends, I didn’t take the game seriously either. When my DM listed out my options during character creation, I decided I would play the antagonist of that pet world. I settled on a half-orc priest named Akuji, who found himself on a ship in an attempt to spread his faith in a foreign land.
I used Akuji as a character study and found myself really fascinated by my ability to influence the world around me. The role of collective storytelling in D&D, when you and your friends get to decide what happens next, creates a sense of play that all readers of sci-fi and fantasy can find joy in. You get to be characters in the stories you love.
For our first session, we all joined a voice channel on Discord. The friends I played with lived all over the world. Our DM was to play the narrator while we were the main cast. The DM set the scene for us: we were travelers all headed to a great city via ship. In turn, our DM asked us each what we were doing on the ship during our idle time as a means of introducing our characters to the rest of the group. Akuji was praying in his cabin when the meal call came, summoning us all to the same space where we could meet each other. The reader in me instantly latched onto this. It was not silly, it was storytelling.
Soon thereafter, a mutiny began. Our first taste of conflict. The captain pulled us into his quarters to solicit our aid. We were all armed, or otherwise capable of defending ourselves, so it made sense that he would ask us. Just like that, our party was born. Did we join the captain or assist the mutineers? I wanted to know their reasons, so I advocated on their behalf.
Talking to the crew, we found out that the captain was refusing to offer them proper wages for their labor. I empathized with them greatly. The captain dismissed the needs of his crew and then tried to incentivize us to bust their union. When we wouldn’t, he threatened us with his first mate, a warrior more dangerous than any of us.
“What do you do?” our DM asked us.
I tried to threaten them back. Our DM asked me to give him an Intimidation check. This is influenced by the ability of Charisma, of which mine was not very high. I rolled a 7, and needed at least 13. Failure. The first mate was so offended, he attacked. Because of my choice, our first conflict bloomed into a full-blown combat. Roll initiative!
We met on a weekly basis following that first session, eventually leveling up to 10 (locally famous town defenders). We laughed, we took breaks, and we had serious debates. I imagine it wouldn’t feel a whole lot different if we were sitting around a table in someone’s living room, playing with miniatures and card stock character sheets, snacks and wine in tow. I had a fantastic time. My creativity was stimulated by a new source of inspiration, an active form of play comparable to a great pleasure read.
Many stories struggle to represent the Other. There are lectures, panels, and discussions about how this should and should not be done. D&D and role-play can help readers learn how to understand diversity in storytelling through its characters and world-building. DMs should focus on creating NPCs that are fully realized people whose identity markers do not define them as a whole. A blacksmith might be a trans dwarf, the innkeeper could be a sightless elf. These details may come out in conversation, but they are secondary to the character’s role in the story. The blacksmith will make equipment and the innkeeper will rent you a bed. Their background and identity can influence how they interact and do these things, without stuffing them into a box. This is a large reason why these games are so popular among queer people, and others of diverse identities. They allow people to just be who they are.
We can explore ourselves in the same way. In the game world, we play a dynamic role in the stories that we are a part of. D&D gives us the space to explore who we could and want to be. Some people even use role-play in this way to experience things they are denied in real life, or to process conflicts they actually have. Some people use it as escape, where they can be whoever they want, whoever they are inside, without a world around applying judgment and pressure.
Let’s return to Jon and see what he’s been up to. In Fry’s far future, careers are decided by authorization chips. Snow might serve as a generic security guard for a super-corporation like MomCorp, who could recognize his martial talents. Perhaps that matters to no one, and our Jon ends up moving boxes at an elementary school library, or off the ramp of a delivery ship. How does his moody stoicism lend to these lives? How would he change? If you played this Jon Snow, or your own character in proximity to him, what sorts of choices would you make over the conflicted course of a campaign? This can really help you understand him further than just knowing him in his original world.
Philip J. Fry is silly, sloven, and golden hearted. How would he fare in Snow’s Westeros? If he were to survive all of its dangers, he would be forced to grow into something other than he is. What would that Fry look like, while still preserving his core self? Or, how would his core self react to and adapt to that world? Would he learn how to handle a sword, or find strong allies, his grim Leelas, to protect him? These are the sorts of questions that TTRPGs and D&D present to you and your favorite characters and stories. Playing them through a campaign would be like filtering them through a prism, and discovering colors you’ve never seen before.
Sets of 20 are important in D&D. A score of 10 indicates an average, where 1 is a miserable weakness or failure, and 20 is an exceptional triumph or ability. Jon is quite strong, with a Strength score of 18. This makes him great at moving boxes, but he is still human, and prone to human error. Queue the dice roll. Dice rolling in D&D represents chance and variety. When rolling for a career path, our Jon scored low and ended up working for an elementary school (spiritually rewarding perhaps, but certainly lacking in pay). While this doesn’t fit his forte in New New York, we know him to take on his duty without flinching. One arduous day, Jon tries to lift a box that should be easy for him. Its Difficulty Class (DC), or the number he needs to match or exceed in his dice roll, is only 11. His 18 Strength score means he gets +4 to any roll he makes that has to do with physical force. That means that the minimum he needs to roll is 7, because 7+4 is 11. He only has a 30% chance of rolling a 6 or lower, and failing his attempt.
A character asks Jon to lift and transport some boxes of books that need to be shelved in the school library. While this is routine for Snow, it's been a hot day. As he goes to lift the first box, his palms are sweaty and he’s on autopilot. He can’t get a proper grip and drops the box. Jon rolled a 6, when needed a 7. He failed his skill check.
A mentor of mine, Henry Lien, notes that writers can be tempted to make plots too convenient and tidy in an effort to serve their intentions or agendas. This is especially true when authors are deeply attached to their characters and the paths they’ve set out for them. Dice rolls, taken from TTRPGs, can aid in our understanding of character and story by introducing chance as a plot tool. Jon was written as someone who rarely failed a strength challenge. Making him roll for success enabled us to see a real, human Snow make a real, human mistake. He’s a hero of his story, so there may not be as much space for this kind of failure in his books. Let’s envision how such a simple addition can elevate our understanding of a character and story.
Jon failed his roll and dropped the box. Some of the children nearby broke out in laughter. He grumbled a little bit to himself, embarrassed. He’s the bastard son of Ned Stark for the old gods’ sake! Mrs. Mellinger, school taskmaster and Snow supervisor, chastised them a bit, but kids will be kids. As such, some of them came over to help him pick up the spilled contents. This moment touches Jon’s heart. In response to his gratitude, a rare warmth from the brooding custodian, the children offer to help him move the other boxes. He not only ends up succeeding, but is reaffirmed in his commitment to his duty to the kids. The Jon Snow we know, but doing something we might not have previously imagined.
This small but impactful detail wouldn’t have been possible without his prior failure. This is the power of dice rolling in storytelling, and something you can experience personally if you give TTRPGs a try.
D&D offers a wealth of learning opportunities for any reader. It allows for a level of engagement with story and character that goes beyond witnessing as audience. TTRPG settings are expansive. There are the traditional fantasy worlds of D&D, but also many other genres and themes if that’s not what you’re into. Many campaigns come with scripts, sequences, encounters, NPCs, and all sorts of other things you need to feel like you’re playing a video-game-book hybrid. You can find one that resonates with you, or something that doesn’t just for fun. I encourage you to give them a try and find pleasure in the play.
If you’d like to test the waters without a major commitment to see how you like the game, I have some options for you. You can find a solo campaign where you don’t need friends or a group. In these, you control not only your character but also the NPCs by following a pre-written script. The dice rolls and unique choices you get to make still feel like play, even when you’re by yourself. They’re almost like a Choose Your Own Adventure game book. There are also one shots, where you make a character and play a campaign that takes only one or just a few sessions to complete. These options can be played in person or online. To play online, you can make an account with a VTT service and meet through Zoom, Discord, or another platform, or propose a game to your friends. You could even play an RPG video game where you get to perform your character and act out the choices they would make in that particular setting.
In all of these spaces, the values of TTRPGs shine: improvisation, play, and collective storytelling. Give it a try, take chances, and perhaps you’ll find joy in the process.
