Mothership, Where Art Thou?
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
—William Ernest Henley, “Invictus”
I recently opened the Core and Deluxe boxed sets for Mothership. And, boy, are these things beautiful. They surely invoked that nostalgic-sweet vibe of being part of the good ol’ days of tabletop roleplaying games. Their presentation while sleek, beautiful, and charmingly indie, also itched another part of my brain: This is (technically speaking) a pivotal moment in the TTRPG hobby. Smaller players are (ultimately) shaping where things are going, despite Dungeons & Dragons pulling heavier punches.
This moment, a combination of indie game design and development, the fruition of OSR and its discontents, and a market and hobbyists collectively hungering for something different, has brought us Mothership and others of her ilk.
Mothership, as an indie project, is pretty incredible. It was originally a free tabletop roleplaying game zine, rolling in under fifty (50) pages. You could buy the printed version of what is now known as 0E Mothership for under $20. Compare this to Dungeons & Dragons, with the core book, the Player’s Handbook, clocking in at around $50 at one point. The quirkiness, the inexpensive price points, and the free-spirited and even encouraging vibes toward third-party content creators made this game a gem of the TTRPG hobby.
The game is simple, to a fault. The rules for this game span less than 50 pages, which is an incredible feat. Each page is information-dense, offering a few moments of peace with strategic white space. The art is a combination of surreal, odd, and commissioned Manga- or anime-style vibes. Mothership does not disappoint. It feels comfortable, and it feels like a good choice for game night.
The Core Set (sold for around $60) and the Deluxe Set (sold for around $99) are two beautiful projects. The Core Set is austere, compact, and dense for its small packaging. The Deluxe Set feels like you’ve purchased some gaudy limited edition version of the game. The box feels expansive like the universe, and it is the kind of something you’ll hold onto to keep your gaming materials organized. The Warden’s screen is huge, and the modules feel as if you’ve landed in an infinite universe that’ll kill you before you ever get to explore a small fraction of it.
Mothership’s release is noteworthy for other reasons, too. It marks an important moment in the hobby, one fan-driven and one no longer dominated by a single company, owning a relatively old IP. If Mothership is indicative of anything, it is the beginning of a seismic shift within the hobby, one fueled by the cash of fans, developed by small teams of indie designers and developers, and carried by nostalgia.
Many of the players interacting with Mothership probably played TTRPGs later in life, or later in TTRPG history. That means the nostalgic pull they’re experiencing isn’t in the first degree. There’s a good deal of separation between the gamer and this nostalgic-ridden product Mothership’s boxed sets are invoking. It’s a product harkening back to something simpler in an increasingly complex, alienating, and frustrating existence, including within the TTRPG space.
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