Post-Destruction and Entering the Woods
Embracing the Unknown: Building Depth Through Disaster in Tabletop Games
Creeping through the abandoned Eden station in Mothership, you find panels and screws overtaken by fern and moss. You pry open the hatch to the upper deck, only to be blinded by a sudden cloud of pollen. Stumbling back, you slip and plummet down a shaft, breaking through into the biosphere below.
This was the last hope of a dying planet—a garden sent to space, entrusted to grow endlessly. But now your character is alone, having lost everyone on this journey. As the first session begins, a knock echoes from the door.
You answer. A figure stands there behind frosted glass, one who made it. But their shadow begins to warp. The groans of an older man shift to screams as his silhouette is yanked into the void beyond the door. Your fall has ruptured a pipe. Water floods halls B & C, creating a growing pressure that wells into a burst. A wall, now open, lets the ship's air escape, triggering a lockdown. Before you're sealed within a small tank of air, you turn around and watch as the pollen is sucked away and a redwood, ten stories high, has its bark torn from the trunk, branches ripped towards the stars.
You’ve entered the woods.
The Woods
This plunge into the unknown mirrors the thematic ‘woods’ many campaigns wander into—a place where players must face themselves and each other.
Recently, I’ve been playing a western-themed D&D campaign. After a train wreck, our party began the long trek back to civilization. Along the way, we’ve faced giant scorpions and watched small steamboats drift along the river to the east. But more than just threats and scenery, this journey into the unknown has become an opportunity for our characters to truly get to know each other. With meta-gaming kept to a minimum, our in-game conversations take priority, revealing the goals and ambitions each player offers in hopes of finding common ground.
In campaigns often see the familiar trope: a disaster destroys the tavern where the party gathers, forcing them into the world. Each member broods over the event alone until an arc emerges—whether to heal or continue unchanged. But I want to define "the woods", “the wild”, and the “walk towards the unknown” further. It shouldn’t be a place for just retreat or reflection. The woods, as I envision it, should force expression over isolation. Characters must engage, not by choice, but by necessity. They must be brought together or be caught and forced to flail into some creatures tunneling den.
In Flying Circus, a Powered by the Apocalypse game, each class has a stress meter with specific triggers that build stress and specific actions that relieve it. Stress reduction is tied directly to XP gain, meaning players must engage with their characters’ emotional responses to unlock new abilities. This mechanic has shaped some of the most character-driven, thematic, and immersive games I’ve ever played. Even without stress mechanics, consider adding environmental or narrative triggers that force characters to react—like a collapsing tunnel or an NPC’s desperate plea for help. The goal is to incorporate stakes that are both consequence-led and inescapable. Characters must choose how they vent these stressful moments together, in that moment and thereafter.
In The Last Human by Zack Jordan, humans are behaviorally isolated from every other species in the cosmos. Something arrived and gave us fire, a gift that allowed humanity to fend off the dangers of the night alone. While every other species had to huddle together, working communally to survive against the fey in the dark, humans were never forced into that same dependence on each other.
In any tabletop game, I refute that player characters should brood in the corner at any encounter, throwing a witty Marvel-one-liner into the air before putting out the flames to rest. I want to open up that clam shell and see what makes them tick as a result of catastrophe. Move past panic and obsession into a place where the story can prosper. Call them out.
To help players connect their characters' identities to a disaster and the current unknown odds, you could introduce a few strategies that emphasize personal stakes, emotional growth, and character-driven storytelling.
Personal Investigations: Encourage players to seek answers tied to their backstory. After a disaster, their character could be the one asking, "Was someone I knew on this ship?" or "Why does this room feel familiar?" This brings personal history into the event and deepens the emotional response.
Symbolic Reactions: Guide characters to react in ways that reflect their core values or fears. For instance, instead of panicking, a scientist might be more concerned about preserving vital equipment or saving a piece of research. Parts of this research is immediately utilized in combat, instead of being stowed away waiting for some unknown reveal where everything comes together. While building story arcs is all well and good, let the change happen now and here to start.
Mementos & Relics: As a DM, offer players physical or symbolic items from the wreckage. A broken helmet, a wilted flower from the biosphere, or a fragment of a data log could spark personal reflections or connections to the ship’s lore. Characters might want to carry these objects with them, turning them into personal relics of the disaster. Don’t let them be buried in the bag. If they fall, dent the helmet. If they win, add your own captains log into the story. Tape over the failed lab scientist story to tell what is truly going down on the ship. Have fun with these relics now instead of waiting for the perfect time. As a player you can also take an active role in shaping these sides to the story.
Rituals & Commemoration: Characters might perform rituals or create their own ways of dealing with loss. Someone might light a candle for the dead crew, or say a prayer for the fallen ship, turning moments of disaster into moments of personal or cultural expression. Keep those spaces. Build them into the environment and take them back here during an upcoming scene in a new context.
Shared Stories: Encourage players to talk about past experiences triggered by the disaster. "This reminds me of the time…" could lead to character-driven monologues or conversations that reveal more about their inner lives, offering a window into their motivations or past traumas. Don’t drop that after a long rest. This story may stick with them the next day, and conversation on the path can be natural. Did they lie about one part and feel guilty? Can they reference a specific part of the story to convey strategy the opponent won’t pick up on during combat? How will this story affect strategy while it’s still in their head?
Emotional Bonds: When other crew members arrive, rather than panicking, players could engage by attempting to build trust, making promises, or even sparking rivalries. Use your character to add to the story. Take out frustrations, be risky, act over-the-top, hastily craft something messy, overprepare a spell, and don’t let the hypothetical enemy keep your character from expressing themselves. If another character references a tragedy, put a hand on their shoulder and walk with them through the woods.
Strategic Cooperation: Encourage players to take proactive roles in managing the aftermath. Who steps up as a leader? Who decides to prioritize saving the environment versus saving themselves? Instead of passivity, have them make choices that reflect their personal ethics or flaws, deepening their connection to the event. Make items dangle from their inventory, have a downed player get pulled towards the ravine, and make them work to prevent the disaster from repeating itself. Give a win to the lost.
By weaving these ideas into gameplay, you invite other players to actively explore their characters’ emotional depths and foster stronger connections to the plot, moving past panic or silence into meaningful storytelling. Don’t just take one step towards growth—keep it growing.
If you want more to read on subjects like this, I discuss elsewhere how landmarks can be used to connect folks to the world and how a DM can use questions as a tool to promote character growth.