5 Counter-Intuitive Truths About Designing Your Own Tabletop RPG

For many who love tabletop roleplaying games, the dream of creating one's own is a powerful siren's call. Yet, this ambition often shatters against the daunting reality of the task—a sea of interlocking decisions where a single misstep can capsize the entire project. New designers often cling to established TTRPG tropes as a life raft, but many of these design "rules" aren't as solid as they seem.

This article reveals five surprising and impactful truths that can reframe your entire approach, moving you from simply borrowing mechanics to architecting a truly intentional game experience.

1. The "Holy Trinity" Isn't a Foundation—It's a Trap

In the pantheon of party-based RPGs, a common set of roles reigns supreme: the Tank who absorbs damage, the Healer who sustains the party, and the Damage Dealer (DPS) who eliminates threats. While this "Holy Trinity" is a familiar trope, designing a game that strictly requires it is a critical design trap.

This approach often leads to "false choices"—situations where certain classes are so essential that not picking them makes the game dramatically worse, or even unwinnable. A prime example comes from the original Etrian Odyssey. In its post-game, elemental dragon bosses could unleash ultimate attacks that hit the entire party for catastrophic damage. Without the Protector class—the game's dedicated tank—and its specific skill to nullify one element per turn, these fights were described as "unwinnable." This wasn't hyperbole; the damage was simply too high to mitigate any other way. By locking a non-negotiable utility to a single class, the game forced players' hands.

A more robust design spreads essential utility across multiple classes. In Etrian Odyssey 3, the designers learned this lesson. The game’s options were spread out enough that it was possible to build a party that went "all the way to the final boss without having a dedicated healer." This demonstrates a core principle: when utility is distributed, players gain genuine freedom to experiment with creative and viable party compositions, proving the trinity is an option, not a foundation.

2. Character Classes Aren't Restrictive Boxes; They're Brilliant Tutorials

A frequent complaint leveled at class-based systems is that they feel restrictive, putting players "in a box." If you want to be a thief, you must be a Rogue; if you want to sing, you must be a Bard. This perspective, however, misses one of the most brilliant functions of a well-designed class: it's a sneaky hidden tutorial.

A class packages a suite of abilities, strategies, and thematic elements into a single, logical archetype. For a new player facing an infinite sea of options, this narrowed focus is invaluable. It allows them to learn the game's mechanics within a limited context while still contributing meaningfully to the team. This functions as a form of player scaffolding, reducing the cognitive load on newcomers and allowing them to achieve competence quickly, which is critical for player retention.

The Zephyr class from Xenoblade Chronicles 3 is a perfect illustration. Its abilities include skills that draw enemy attention and others that increase her dodge chance. To a brand-new player, the game plan is immediately clear: the Zephyr is an evasive tank. This clear function communicates the character's role and strategy without requiring the player to parse a lengthy manual.

3. Your First Design Question Has Nothing to Do With Dice

When inspiration for a new game strikes, the first impulse is often to invent a cool mechanic or choose a dice system. This is a classic cart-before-the-horse problem. The most crucial first step has nothing to do with rules and everything to do with purpose. Before you consider a single mechanic, you must answer one fundamental question:

why are you doing this why are you doing it you have to be able to answer that question right up front

This "why" becomes the guiding light for every subsequent mechanical decision. Are you trying to improve an existing system? Tell a specific kind of story that no other game can? Create a rule system without numbers? Your "why" directly informs your choice of resolution mechanic. If your core purpose is to eliminate the frustration of random dice rolls, inventing a new system based on a different random number generator is nonsensical. The purpose must precede the mechanic.

4. Great Progression Can Come From Failure, Not Just Victory

The traditional TTRPG progression model is a straightforward loop: defeat monsters, gain Experience Points (XP), and level up. Victory drives advancement. But some of the most innovative systems are built on the opposite concept: failure-based leveling.

The TTRPG Masks: A New Generation is a masterful example. In Masks, players portray teenage superheroes struggling with their powers and identity. On the character sheet is an advancement track; each time a player fails a roll, they mark a box. After five failures, they advance their character. This mechanic is impactful because it perfectly aligns with the game's core theme. Teenagers are expected to fail as they figure themselves out. This system reframes failure from a frustrating dead-end into a productive, even desirable, narrative beat. It mechanically incentivizes players to take risks and embrace the dramatic complications that arise from failure, perfectly aligning player motivation with the game's central theme of messy, teenage growth.

5. The "Freedom" of Skill-Based Systems Has a Dark Side

For players who dislike the perceived restrictions of classes, skill-based systems—where you build a character from a pool of points—are the popular alternative. This absolute freedom, however, comes with its own set of critical pitfalls.

1. The One-Trick Pony: This occurs when a player pumps all their points into a single skill. They start the game as the best sword fighter in the world but are "terrible everything else." This player often sits bored and unable to contribute until their one specific skill is needed, having peaked before the game has even begun.
2. The Painfully Average: This is the opposite problem, where a player spreads their points thinly across every skill. The result is a character who is "sucky at absolutely everything" and becomes "dead weight" that the rest of the group has to carry.

These pitfalls are not player mistakes; they are failures of design. They reveal that simply granting players absolute freedom isn't enough. The designer's job is to provide "guided freedom," using mechanics like skill caps, diminishing returns, or clear character creation guidelines to prevent players from accidentally building an unfun character. Intentionality must extend to protecting the player experience.

Conclusion: Beyond the Tropes

These truths reveal a fundamental principle: mechanics are not rules to be followed, but tools to serve a purpose. A class is a tutorial. A party role is a strategic option, not a requirement. A progression system is a thematic engine. By deconstructing these tropes, you move beyond simply assembling a game and begin to design an experience. Your primary role as a designer isn't to balance dice, but to align every single mechanic with the "why" of your game.

After rethinking these fundamentals, what established TTRPG "rule" will you break first in your own design?