When we were kids, it was different. We just played. A child is like a cat; they don’t understand the concept of time, living in the present with the blissful belief that things will always be the same. So, we played RPGs twice a week, after school, like kids do—a never-ending campaign, without a beginning or an end, without a story arc, just playing for the sake of it.

Then you go to college, thinking you’re growing up, getting smarter, having a girlfriend, being able to drink beer. But in reality, you’re still like that cat, unaware of time, unaware that it’s all about to end—that the weekly gaming with friends, that carefree fun without a plan, without a beginning or end, will eventually have a finish line. Life comes along, with work and kids, and you truly grow up, only then understanding what time really means.

And so it happens, you’re an adult. Life pulls you into its gears. You want to play, but there’s no time. You want to play, but maybe you’ll manage to pull off a one-shot session here and there, a hastily organized gathering, only to have it fall apart after two months of planning because one person can’t make it, and another just doesn’t want to. You’re an adult now. There’s no time for a never-ending campaign, no weekly D&D sessions without a goal. There’s no more playing like a cat, like a kid, no more playing for the sake of it.

For thirty years, I’d been complaining about players, just like every Game Master. At every opportunity, be it a convention or a reunion, we would eventually end up whining about how terrible and ungrateful our players were. We tried our best, sweated blood for them, were ready to do everything for them, and paid attention to every little detail. And they would still just show up at the session, stuff themselves with crisps, collect PD, and go home, without even as much as “thank you,” “you’re the best,” or at least cleaning those damn potato crisps after themselves.

I mean, preparing such a session takes dozens of hours. It’s like a full-time job. And afterward, you don’t even get a “thank you”.

The crack of the shot broke the silence; the enemies hiding in ambush returned fire and with a shout, they rushed towards us. They advanced from their concealed positions in the shadows of the thicket. It took a moment before we spotted them, before we could reach for our weapons and move to meet them…

It wasn’t the best scenario I’ve ever played in my life. Just a good, fun fantasy adventure. Marcin, who was our Game Master, didn’t reach any great heights of his talent, nor did anything particularly noteworthy. On the contrary, I vaguely remember him leading, cigarette after cigarette, which didn’t quite fit the fantasy theme.

Yet, I remember bits of that session to this day, even though it’s been 20 years. I remember because there was a bonfire around which we played. I remember because after dark, the trees in the orchard next to which we had settled took on menacing shapes, and with the setting sun, they transformed into a mysterious forest. I remember because of the crackling fire, because of the sparks shooting into the sky when we added wood to the fire, because of the distant barking of dogs in the nearby village – all of this transported us into the world of the session as if by the touch of a magic wand. It was one of the best RPG sessions I’ve ever played in my life. Because of the bonfire, because of the orchard, because of the sunset.

This is generally an exciting wheel of time. When I designed the Detective game, I used all of my 30 years of experience in RPG games. I managed to create a board game that is very close to what RPGs are. It offers just as exciting, engaging an experience but does not require a Dungeon Master. Two years ago, when we played Detective again and I saw how much players enjoyed it, it hit me like a bolt of lightning – I can reverse this! Just as RPGs improved Detective and gave it a lot of solutions and ideas, I can have fun the other way around – take a few solutions from Detective and introduce them into my RPG sessions. This twist changed the style in which I currently run RPG sessions.

I have to admit to my biggest weakness as a Dungeon Master. I can’t improvise. When players come up with an idea that surprises me, and I have to come up with something on the spot, I feel very uncomfortable with it. I’m a perfectionist in this regard – I like when the scenes, meetings, NPCs that appear during the session were previously prepared, thought through, and nicely presented.