Thank you! I'm gobsmacked. Thank you for all you do to put a spotlight on solo and journaling games!!
Sticky Doodler
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Take your theater kid energy to the next level with a game where you play puppeteers playing puppets and outing their feelings as subtly or overtly as you wanna roll. Think of the mess you can make crafting your own hand puppet out of socks, paper bags, and trash... then think of that mess as a metaphor for creating your weird and flawed puppeteers. The whole setup is designed to smash conflicting personalities and petty agendas together into a hot mess!
I played this with my family that includes prudish adults and teenagers, so if that describes your group, carefully follow the instructions for adapting the game for kids. A few other tips for running this with less-experienced role-players:
- Use the optional rules for a showrunner, and give that role to your most experienced player
- Consider cutting the runtime down -- it's currently timed like Sesame Street, but for a more Bluey experience, try three 8-minute segments
- Consider drafting a very loose script that, like all dungeon maps, you'll abandon on contact, but at least it gives you a net
Easily one of the most engaging and innovative games of 2025 -- very worth playing. Here's my rogue's gallery of puppets.
Ding ding ding 🏆
Nah, I'm only HR adjacent, and the persona I imagined was probably in a high pressure but politically sheltered role. If I kept playing I'd keep going with the "why" question, because I think they're using naivete as the excuse for the rant.
Ranting is a brilliant topic though, because it comes from deep inside and, for me at least, takes multiples goes before I figure out the "why." Great game!
Well, that was fun! You can guess what I rolled:
"I want to wrap up with just one more point, and it comes from the heart. We say that we value each and every one of our employees, but that simply cannot be true. I mean, here I am, getting an award, out of the hundreds of executives who eligible, and that out of how many tens of thousands of employees? Look, each one of us is required to fire 10% of our team every year, and don't the surviving 90% of us know that it's for the best? If you find that shocking it's only because we say one thing and do another. But there's nothing wrong with the truth. The truth sets us free. Ten percent of us, to be exact (haha). So I say it's time we spoke the truth. There's nothing to be afraid of! Except my time limit -- sorry -- let me hand this back to you, Ruth..."
Well, that went viral pretty quickly didn't it? The sad thing is that it wasn't even unfairly edited, someone in the front table just posted the whole thing, someone else snipped out the ad-hoc rant, and next thing you know every industry rag, paid newsletter editor, and conflict entrepreneur had used it to advance their own story about the firm. In the hands of a more skilled crisis PR firm we could've made hay out of it. Come to think of it, they kind of did -- the way our stock price jumped just made losing my unvested shares a little more painful. I wish I could say there's some Jerry Maguire ending, that I'd gotten a job with one of those get-tough HR consultancies, but even the politicos who held me up as some kind of prophet never returned my calls. I can't even blame the wine, because I never drank any. Why did I say it? I guess I've got a lot of time on my hands now to figure that out.
There are journaling games that lean into the game, with familiar mechanics borrowed from role-playing games, and there are ones that lean into journaling, providing a light scaffold for introspection. For me, the most rarefied journaling games do both. I appreciate a game that lets me sneak up on the difficult issues that prevent me from head-on journaling. The River Spirit hits that bullseye for me.
As a fan of drawing games, I’m predisposed to like the River Spirit. It resembles The Quiet Year in using prompts from a deck of cards to draw a map of the world progressively. And like other games in the genre, unexpected patterns emerge that propel your story forward and events transpire to break expectations.
While you do build a world in the River Spirit, the map that emerges is more a projection of your character than a geography. (The rules don’t tell you who “you” are, but I took Paul Czege’s advice and occupied an “approximate self” – me, in an alternate universe.) Each location ties to something intimate about you: “where you had your last kiss,” for example. Likewise, you populate the place with people by dint of their relationship to you, not to the locale.


The resulting map, then, is a biography. So when the final chapter comes and the River washes most of it away, I felt it profoundly. Gone from my memory was my lover, but not the place where we last kissed. Gone was the wished-for heroine, but not her counterpart. The game describes these as “sacrifices” to the River Spirit. I experienced these moments as baptism – permission to let the past flow out of my life. I emerged from the game renewed.

And that’s where the game leaves you at the end, with the words, “Your journey is just beginning.” As a man who turned 50 this year, I choose to believe these words. I believe them because the River Spirit made me earn them.
I love games that take a sharp editorial perspective on the world, and The Show Must Go Wrong has that in spades (plus diamonds, hearts, and clubs). Whether you intend to play it during downtime backstage or just read it, this game gives unvarnished insight into the real workings of life behind stage -- in fact, I would call it a "must-read" for anyone contemplating a career in theater.
Mixing don't-make-the-Jenga-tower-fall mechanic of Dread with playing-card prompts as in The Quiet Year, this game provides a simple framework for reliving the trauma drama of running tech for an underfunded theater company. Theater kids should instantly recognize the realistic, modern-day setting (the designer is a literal pro!), but for the rest of us, the "Definitions" section is both informative and vividly real.
Within the 54 card prompts are a mix of every Murphy's Law scenario for a small theater, from cast drama ("Two actors have a fight and demand separate dressing rooms") to honest mistakes ("You triple-checked everything. It seemed flawless. But when you tried to fit the scenic piece into place, it didn’t fit") to raw hubris ("The jukebox wasn't supposed to make noise or light up originally, but sure let’s add it during tech"). Against all of this, your stress marker keeps ticking up until you can't take it any more and quit, leaving the rest of the team to deal with your less-competent understudy.
Roleplaying games have a reputation for attracting "theater kids," but there's precious few games about running a theater -- The Show Must Go Wrong finally fills that void!
What a lovely way to get distance from your own perspective and mindset. This game offers space to embody one of the voices you probably have rolling around in your head, maybe understand it better, maybe come to peace with it, maybe put some distance between it and you. Maybe it's a way to learn to be kinder to yourself, too. Thanks, Beth and Angel, for this little gift of a game!
This is a beautifully crafted game that portrays an overlooked aspect of American history. Our game group purchased a physical copy and appreciated an evening exploring difficult social relationships within an increasingly oppressive environment. Our table are not expert role players or improv actors, so we were clumsy and got lost several times as to how to advance or end scenes, but we all agreed it was a worthwhile experience regardless of our skill.
Absolutely a must-have for any enjoyer of indie TTRPGs and scholars of labor movements (our group includes a labor economist) or American history.





















