I write my own rules because, somewhere along the line, I stopped believing that “a balanced game” automatically meant “interesting.” What I actually wanted was simple rules with real pressure. The kind that creeps up on you while you’re still congratulating yourself on a clever plan.

That’s how I ended up re-inventing mechanics like Pressure, Suppression, and the ever-elastic concept of Fun. Pressure exists to remind you that merely being in the game has a cost. Suppression exists so firepower can ruin your day without politely removing your miniatures. And Fun exists because sometimes the correct historical outcome is confusion, panic, or a decision you immediately regret.

This philosophy leaks into everything I write. Scurvy Dogs started life as naval adventure and ended up being mostly about eating chocolate dubloons. Mission Lock exists because I hate the fact that in most rules I can walk right in front of my opponents machine gun just because it has already fired! Try that in real life and see how may steps you get to take.

Then there’s Trench Crawl, which is what happens when you ask, “What if the battlefield itself actively resented you?” Terrain does matter and can sometimes be more dangerous than your opponent if you do not use it properly. Blade and Banner pretends to be about medieval heroics but is really about loyalty, fatigue, and the awkward moment when your banner is still flying but everyone underneath it is questioning their life choices.

Somewhere along the way, dinosaurs got involved. I don’t even pretend this was sensible. One minute I’m modelling pressure and morale, the next it’s prehistoric monsters rampaging across the table because history, frankly, could always use more dinosaurs. And once you’ve allowed that, it’s only a very short slide to Tuk Tuk Zombie Rumble, which proves beyond doubt that no setting is safe from a lunatic with a computer.

I know full well these are not rules most people want. Writing my own systems is like setting loose cats and dogs to fight over dollhouse furniture. Wait I did that! The cats demand nuance, friction, and historical texture. The dogs want clear objectives and positive reinforcement. The furniture, tiny tables, tiny chairs, all lovingly painted end up scattered across the floor.

But that’s exactly the point.

I don’t write rules everyone will like. I write rules that do what I want them to do at my table. Rules where terrain matters, hesitation hurts, and success feels temporary. Rules where running away is often correct, heroes survive mostly by accident, and plans collapse in ways that feel depressingly authentic.

Writing short, simple rules is not easy. So many of the rules you see these days just do not work because they are written by those who have no concept of game theory (see my post), and how to use it to design rules that are simple and fun.

So yes, I write my own rules. They’re not fiddly. They’re opinionated. They involve pressure tracks, suppression states, dinosaurs, zombies, and occasionally a tuk tuk doing something it absolutely shouldn’t.

They are not for everyone.

But when the dinosaurs are being hit by a volcano, cats are screaming, the dogs are barking, the dollhouse is on fire, the unsuppressed machine gun is killing everything in sight,and everyone around the table is laughing despite themselves, that’s when I know the mechanics are doing exactly what they’re supposed to do.

Have fun!