One of the joys of this hobby is how often we revisit the past.
Old characters. Old settings. Forgotten rulesets we swore we remembered better than we do. And yes, there’s a kind of magic in cracking open that AD&D 2nd Edition Forgotten Realms box and realizing that even though you’ve been gaming for decades, somehow… this still feels new.
But lately? I’ve been reminded that the recent moments are just as powerful.
In the last few months, I’ve been lucky enough to dive into a few very different games, and each one has changed the way I think about the stories we tell at the table.
Daggerheart caught me off guard in the best way. I went in expecting a rules-light, character-driven story game, and it is that, but what really stood out was how it handles party dynamics. There's a gentler kind of tension here. Not the clash of classes or alignment charts, but emotional connection, hope, and the quiet drama of shared vulnerability. It’s not just how the characters fight together, but how they heal together. And for someone who’s spent a lot of time in dungeons and haunted ruins, that shift was… refreshing.
Then came a run in Edge’s Star Wars RPG, and that was a whole different ride. Fast, cinematic, gloriously messy. But what it reminded me most of was this: balance isn’t the point. Fun is. Characters aren't finely tuned chess pieces. They’re scoundrels, force users, misfits, and rebels flying by the seat of their robes. The game never once worried if something was "too strong" or "underpowered." It just asked, “Did that feel cool?” And honestly? That’s a design philosophy I want to carry with me.
And finally, there’s my return to the Forgotten Realms, but this time, through the lens of AD&D 2nd Edition. It’s funny. I’ve spent years reading Realmslore, pulling from its gods and guilds, its elven legacies and deep roads beneath the mountains. But actually playing in that space, using the materials from the late '80s and early '90s? That feels different. It’s like stepping into a place I’ve only ever read about. Not as a scholar or a fan, but as a traveler.
Nostalgia is great. It’s powerful. But it’s not a substitute for presence.
And that’s the thing I keep coming back to: the most important past isn’t what we played twenty years ago, it’s what we did at the table last week.
That last game. That weird plot twist. That character choice no one expected. That moment of laughter, tension, heartbreak, or triumph that came out of nowhere.
So yeah, I love looking back. I’ll always treasure the books, the maps, the stories that got me here.
But what really matters?
What’s happening in the next session?
Nostalgia is great and fun, but sometimes the most important past is what we did in our most recent game.
Questions
What. Confident. Genre.
What genre do I feel the most confident in? Easy Horror. I love running horror games.
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