Want to see how a board game is made? Follow along as we bring a card game from idea to reality. 👇👇👇👇👇
Busy Busy
One of the best ways I find to keep my mental health in a positive place is to have lots of hobbies. I'm a person who thrives on variety. Board games one night, designing the next, maybe writing or tinkering with a new project after that. Each hobby feeds a different part of my brain.
The challenge with all those hobbies, however, is finding the time to do them all. There are only so many hours in a day, and between work, relationships, and basic life maintenance, those hours disappear fast. I'll sit down with the best intentions to playtest Rescue or write the next newsletter entry, only to realize I haven't touched my backlog of unplayed games in weeks.
Once I've found the time, the challenge becomes: when do I find the time to rest or just do nothing? This is where things get messy for me. The "doing nothing" often comes with guilt about not being efficient with my time and not feeling like it's spent well. I'll be sitting on the couch, genuinely exhausted, and my brain starts cataloging all the things I could be doing instead. I could be prototyping. I could be writing. I could be playing that game I've been excited about for months.
The rational part of my brain knows that rest isn't wasted time. It's necessary. You can't create, design, or engage meaningfully when you're running on empty. But the other part, the part that equates productivity with worth, struggles to let go.
I'm still learning to quiet that voice. I'm trying to remind myself that doing nothing is still doing something. It's recovery. Some of my best ideas for Rescue have come not during focused work sessions, but during those quiet moments when I wasn't trying to force anything.
The balance between pursuing hobbies, resting, and actually living life without guilt? I don't have it figured out yet. But I'm working on it, one guilt-free couch session at a time.
🌑 Encounter — The Shifting Corridor
The stone hallway ahead seems to bend and narrow as you move forward. Cracks in the walls release soft puffs of dust, and the floor subtly slopes in ways that throw off your balance. It’s hard to tell if the corridor is actually moving, or if your sense of direction is slowly unraveling.
What will you do?
Move carefully, keeping one hand on the wall — Gain 2 XP
Stop to reorient yourself and breathe — Gain 1 AP
Mark the floor with chalk as you go — Gain 1 XP
Push ahead without slowing down — Lose 1 AP
Trip as the floor shifts beneath you — Lose 2 HP
Turn back before you get too disoriented — No effect
