Last night myself and Daniel ran a two player session of Hell for Leather. It didn’t go well. There was no energy, no tension, and the narrative bounced and popped like ball in a bingo drum. What went wrong?

Maybe the first Checkpoint was too broad or the characters were too serious. Maybe we started too close to the action so there was no way to escalate the tension. Maybe we put ourselves into too many tight corners. Maybe we spent too little time identifying our characters at the beginning of play and maybe we needed more focused, obvious obstacles. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Baby.

In retort, of course, I started to tinker. What if I limited the number of Story Pips, or changed the blah-blahdi-blah? What if I upped the amount of jiggerywotsits and messed about with the thingamebobs? Questions, doubts and shadows crept into the room. I started losing my spirit. I thought I had it all worked out. Would I have to start from scratch? Was this the beginning of the end?

Fuck that.

I’ve been playing Hell for Leather everyday for weeks, I’ve been writing and amending for two months, and I’ve been losing sleep nightly. Before I go hopping into bed with my anxiety, maybe it’s time I admit one of the great truths of tabletop gaming…

Just because you have a shit game, it doesn’t mean it’s a shit game.

And that’s the hardest part of design for me, having the strength to make the changes when the rules are clearly broken, and the wisdom to accept that some things don’t depend on rules.