The Fun of Trying Different RPGs

A new RPG always arrives the same way: quietly, like a book that knows it has secrets.

It lands on the table with that satisfying weight, and for a heartbeat everyone leans in. Not because you are abandoning your “real” game, but because the room can feel it - this is a fresh door. New rules. New tone. New kinds of trouble to get into. And the best part is that you do not need to be an expert to enjoy it. You just need curiosity and a group willing to say, “Let’s find out what this one feels like.”

Netherbook exists for exactly that feeling: a shelf full of invitations, from folklore chills to space-dread to cozy mysteries, each promising a different kind of night.

What makes it fun, though? Not “useful”. Not “efficient”. But... Fun! 
The kind that makes you laugh mid-roll, the kind that keeps you thinking about a scene while you brush your teeth, the kind that turns a regular Wednesday into a story you will retell for years.

Pull up a chair. Let’s talk about why trying different RPGs is one of the best ways to keep your table bright.

Novelty is a spell... and it works on almost everyone

Even the most beloved campaign can become familiar in the same way a well-worn path becomes familiar. You know where to step. You know what works. You know what the game expects of you.

A new RPG steals that certainty in the nicest way.

Suddenly, nobody is on autopilot. Players ask more questions. GMs listen harder. People take risks because they do not yet have a “best practice” to cling to. The table starts doing that rare thing adults do not do enough: learning together without shame.

If you want a clear example of “new energy in a box,” there are games built to make emotions part of the engine, like the Daggerheart Core Set, where the whole vibe is cinematic teamwork and dramatic swings that feel like a story beat, not a math problem.

You do not need to replace your main game to benefit. You just need to borrow the spark.

Different RPGs are different lantern colors

A lot of people say, “We roleplay, we roll dice, we tell a story.”
True, but incomplete.

Each system shines its lantern on different parts of the story. Some illuminate tactics. Some illuminate relationships. Some illuminate fear. Some illuminate wonder. The rules quietly teach your group what to care about.

When you swap games, you swap focus. And that changes everything:

- In one game, the question is “Can we win this fight?”
- In another, it is “What will it cost us if we do?”
- In another, it is “What do we become if we keep surviving?”

That is not just variety. That is discovering new kinds of stories your group is capable of telling.

You get new flavors of tension, not just new settings

Tension is the heartbeat of most sessions. But not all tension tastes the same.

Sometimes you want the tension of a mystery, where every clue is a candle and every shadow might be a lie. Sometimes you want the tension of horror, where you are brave but not invincible. Sometimes you want the tension of survival, where food, shelter, and trust are as precious as gold.

Trying new RPGs is fun because it gives you more than one kind of “edge of your seat.”

Want a folklore-tinged dread where the world feels old and the woods feel like they are listening? Vaesen is that lantern-lit walk where the myths step closer when nobody is looking.

Want claustrophobic sci-fi fear where stress crawls under your skin and the ship does not care about your hopes? Mothership turns empty corridors into a personality trait.

Want modern conspiracy horror, sharp and paranoid, where the scariest thing might be the memo you were told not to read? Delta Green scratches that itch like a secret you should not have learned.

You are not just switching genres. You are switching how your table’s stomach feels during the story.

You become a better player without trying to “get better”

The nicest part of hopping systems is that it trains skills you did not know you had.

If you usually solve problems with plans and prep, a more narrative-forward game gently teaches you to love messy outcomes. If you usually talk your way through everything, a grittier survival game teaches you to respect hard choices. If you usually optimize, a mystery game teaches you to slow down and notice.

Not because someone told you to improve - but because the rules make new behaviors feel rewarding.

And it is fun. It feels like discovering a new room in your own house.

You become a better GM by stealing like a magpie

GMs are collectors. Not of rules - of moments.

A clever downtime structure. A simple way to frame scenes. A mechanic that turns “failure” into “complication.” A procedure that generates drama so you are not carrying the whole world on your shoulders.

Different RPGs are basically libraries of “oh wow, that’s smart.”

If you have ever wished your prep could feel lighter, some games are designed to carry more of the load. If you have ever wished your sessions had a cleaner rhythm, some games teach pacing by the way they are built.

You do not have to convert your whole campaign. You can lift a technique, tuck it into your pocket, and use it forever.

The vibe changes - and that alone can be worth the ticket

Sometimes the fun is not about mechanics. It is about the kind of night you are choosing.

One RPG night is a roaring hearth and heroic speeches. Another is a rainy window and whispered theories. Another is a disaster movie where everyone is laughing because the situation is completely doomed.

Switching games is like switching the tavern’s music.

If you want the mood of gaslamp mystery and occult investigations - the kind of evening that feels like candle smoke and secrets; Candela Obscura leans into that “we are in over our heads, but we have to go anyway” energy.

If you want a cozy mystery vibe where the table feels like a small town gossip circle that accidentally becomes a detective agency, Brindlewood Bay is a delightfully dangerous cup of tea.

If you want full cosmic investigation tradition: trench coats, forbidden tomes, and the dawning realization that you probably should not have opened that box, Call of Cthulhu is a classic for a reason.

Different games let you curate the emotional weather.

Variety helps your group learn what it actually loves

There is a quiet gift hidden inside one-shots and system experiments: honest feedback.

After a new game, people naturally say things like:

- “I loved how fast scenes moved.”
- “I missed crunchy tactics.”
- “That was intense: I want it sometimes, not weekly.”
- “I didn’t realize I enjoy investigation this much.”
- “I liked that failure still pushed the story forward.”

That conversation makes your table healthier. You stop guessing what people want. You start choosing together.

And the choosing is part of the fun.

You discover subgenres you did not know were yours

Lots of folks say they like “fantasy.” Then they try a game where fantasy is muddy boots and hard winters, and they go, “Oh. This is my fantasy.”

Or they say they like “sci-fi,” then they try something that feels like big politics and bigger deserts, and they go, “Oh. This is my sci-fi.”

Exploring different RPGs is basically taste-testing your own imagination.

If you want fantasy that feels harsh and grounded, where the land matters and choices bite back, Forbidden Lands carries that weight beautifully.

If you want fantasy that feels like a classic adventure story with approachable rules and a strong “let’s go on a quest” heartbeat, Dragonbane is a friendly door with sharp teeth behind it.

If you want epic mythic fantasy steeped in long journeys, heavy choices, and that sense of “the world is wide and older than us,” The One Ring makes the road feel like a character.

When you try different RPGs, you learn what kind of stories your group’s bones actually want.

One-shots are the secret sauce

Here is the trick that makes experimentation feel effortless: do not begin with a forever campaign.

A one-shot lets you taste the game’s voice without committing your whole calendar. It also gives your group permission to be imperfect. You can learn by playing, laugh at the weird rules moments, and keep moving.

A really good first-time goal is not mastery. It is momentum:

- Learn the core loop
- Make a character who wants something
- Put them in trouble
- Let the rules do their thing
- End with a satisfying turn of the knife or a warm landing

That is it. That is the whole ritual.

Switching systems makes you braver about failure

In a long-running campaign, failure can feel expensive. You have invested time. You have plans. You have character arcs you do not want to lose.

In a new system (especially a one-shot) failure becomes playful again. It becomes story.

This is one of the biggest reasons trying different RPGs is fun: it reminds you that the dice are not there to punish you. They are there to surprise you.

Some games teach you teamwork in a new language

Even if your group is close, different systems highlight different social muscles.

Some reward spotlight-sharing. Some reward building on each other’s ideas. Some reward taking the hit so another character can shine. Some reward asking better questions.

Want a game that makes “crew energy” feel natural - planning, improvising, dealing with consequences as a group - Blades in the Dark is practically a lesson in stylish teamwork.

Want something that leans into youthful chaos and the fun of being in over your head together, Kids on Bikes is a strong “we are friends first, heroes second” kind of ride.

Different games give your group new ways to be a group.

Sometimes you want comedy - and that is not “lesser”

Not every story night needs to be heavy. Sometimes you want to laugh until your cheeks hurt. Sometimes you want to play something that looks at the world, shrugs, and chooses ridiculousness on purpose.

Comedy RPG nights are fun because they cleanse the palate. They remind you this hobby is play.

If you want satire with sharp edges and escalating nonsense, Paranoia turns distrust into a party game with teeth.

Worldbuilding games are like sitting around a map you are drawing in real time

There is a special joy in games where the “adventure” is the act of creating a world together.

You trade the usual question - “What happens next?” - for something gentler and weirder:

- “What do people here believe?”
- “What do they forbid?”
- “What do they call the thing they are afraid to name?”

If you want a game about language, community, and watching a culture shift until something precious disappears, Dialect RPG - A Game About Language and How It Dies is heartbreak in a gorgeous, playable form.

If you want to build history like you are stacking stained-glass scenes into a cathedral of cause and effect, Microscope RPG makes creation feel like discovery.

These are different kinds of fun - not adrenaline, but wonder.

Matching the system to the story feels like sailing with the wind

One of the biggest “aha” moments in multi-RPG life is realizing you do not need to force every story through the same rules.

When the system fits the tone, everything gets easier:

- The rules reinforce the vibe instead of fighting it
- Players intuit what to do because the game rewards it
- Prep shrinks because the game has procedures
- The table feels like it is flowing, not grinding

Want sweeping, storm-bright heroics in a beloved fantasy setting starter experience? Cosmere RPG: Stormlight Starter Set is built as a clear on-ramp for that kind of epic play.

Want nostalgic, eerie sci-fi mystery where the strange arrives in slow motion and the everyday becomes unsettling? Tales from the Loop is that soft-glow synthwave unease, played at a kitchen table.

Want noble houses, intrigue, and sand in absolutely everything? Dune - Adventures in the Imperium is a big, spicy meal for groups that like politics with their peril.

When you choose the right tool for the right tale, the whole night feels smoother.

The real fun is the freedom it gives you.

When you try different RPGs, your group gets room to breathe.

Room to be brave in unfamiliar ways. Room to let things go wrong without grabbing the emergency brake. Room to care about other stakes than “win or lose”. Room to tell stories that don’t follow your usual blueprint.

Some nights you want to stand tall as heroes.
Some nights you want to scrape by as survivors.

And some nights you want to be curious souls with a lantern and a questionable plan, heading into the dark simply because the story is out there, and it’s calling your name.

Trying different RPGs keeps your table wide. And a wide table is a table that lasts ;-)