In the modern tabletop gaming landscape, the line between entertainment and emotional exploration is becoming increasingly blurred. While many gamers flock to the high-stakes combat of Dungeons & Dragons or the tactical complexity of eurogames, a growing movement seeks to utilize the medium for deeper, more personal connection. At the forefront of this movement is Alex Roberts, a renowned game designer and practicing counselor whose work—most notably the storytelling game For the Queen—is redefining how we understand the therapeutic potential of tabletop play. The Dual Life of a Creative and a Caregiver Alex Roberts is a name synonymous with accessible, emotionally resonant game design. Best known for creating the Jenga-powered RPG Star Crossed and the collaborative storytelling hit For the Queen, her influence on the indie gaming scene is substantial. Recently, the second edition of For the Queen was published by Darrington Press, the studio founded by the cast of Critical Role, signaling the game’s enduring impact on the industry. However, Roberts’ professional life extends far beyond the gaming table. She is also a practicing counselor, a dual career path that many might perceive as disparate. To Roberts, however, the connection is not only logical but fundamental. "Playing story games made me a better counselor," Roberts explains. "I obviously got into making games because it’s fun, but it’s taught me how to pay close attention and listen to people." This synthesis of skills—active listening, holding space, and narrative construction—forms the backbone of her design philosophy. She posits that the act of designing a game and the act of helping a client navigate their inner world share the same core DNA: the creation of a safe, structured space for truth to emerge. Understanding For the Queen: A Mechanics of Empathy At its core, For the Queen is a masterclass in minimalist design. It is a collaborative storytelling game that eschews complex rulebooks and dice rolls in favor of prompt cards. Players assume the roles of attendants to a matriarchal monarch, navigating a series of scenarios that force them to confront their loyalties, their personal histories, and their relationships with their ruler. The game’s genius lies in its structure, which inherently mandates engagement. "It is structured in such a way that people are primed to listen to each other," says Roberts. Because the narrative is built upon follow-up questions and shared responses, players are incentivized to pay attention to one another. It is a collective effort; there is no "winning" in the traditional sense. The journey is the experience itself. The second edition, while featuring stunning new artwork, also includes subtle but significant mechanical shifts. Roberts has refined the deck to remove prompts that were identified as potentially alienating rather than challenging. One such example was a prompt that triggered negative reactions from players in the original version. "Being told they’re ugly hits people a certain way," she notes. "Keeping it in was not worth the bad times it caused." This refinement highlights her commitment to player safety and the intentionality required when designing games that touch on personal identity. The Architecture of Safety: Why Passing Matters A common misconception in game design is that "difficulty" equates to "depth." Roberts challenges this by embedding a "pass" mechanic into the heart of For the Queen. This is not merely a tool for avoidance; it is a critical design feature that ensures the game remains inclusive of all personality types. Roberts recounts a session with her own sister—someone she describes as "quieter"—who chose to pass on nearly half of her turns. Rather than disrupting the flow or diminishing the experience, this choice allowed her sister to remain fully present and engaged without the pressure of performance. "It’s important to me to think about those quieter players in my design," Roberts emphasizes. By providing an "off-ramp" for players who may not be ready to share, the game actually becomes more accessible, fostering a climate of trust where participants feel safe enough to engage when they are ready. The "Therapeutic Rehearsal": The Intersection of Play and Therapy The implications of Roberts’ work touch on a broader cultural conversation regarding the efficacy of alternative therapy. She draws a compelling parallel between the "empathetic witnessing" that occurs in group therapy and the shared experience of a well-played RPG. "The experience of being acknowledged and treated as a valuable human being that’s being listened to is powerful," she says. "Being able to say things that you’ve maybe never said before and have it be accepted as alright." In the clinical world, the relationship between a counselor and a client is often described as a "rehearsal" for real-world interactions—a space to practice vulnerability, boundary-setting, and emotional regulation. Roberts argues that the gaming table functions in much the same way. It provides a "rehearsal space" where individuals can experiment with emotions they might suppress in their daily lives. She notes that society often imposes rigid, gendered expectations on emotional expression—the "sadness in women, anger in men" binary. Roleplaying games offer a mechanism to subvert these expectations. By stepping into a fictional character, a player might find the safety to express frustration, grief, or vulnerability in ways that feel impossible in their day-to-day existence. These "reparative experiences" can provide a form of healing that is often missing from traditional social structures. A Global Perspective on Healing Roberts is quick to remind us that "therapy," as defined by Western clinical psychology, is a relatively modern invention. Humans have dealt with trauma and suffering for millennia, often through communal storytelling, shared ritual, and collective grief. She references programs in regions like Rwanda, where traditional one-on-one therapy models were sometimes rejected by local populations in favor of communal, group-oriented healing practices. This serves as a vital reminder that healing is not one-size-fits-all. "I like to remind people that therapy as we know it hasn’t been around for that long, but people have always suffered and found ways to work with that suffering," she says. Games like For the Queen don’t need to be classified as "therapy" to provide the benefits of a therapeutic space. They provide the structure for connection, and that in itself is a potent antidote to isolation. Creating the Right "Culture of Play" Despite the clear benefits, Roberts is careful to maintain boundaries. She acknowledges that the therapeutic potential of gaming is entirely dependent on the "culture of play" established at the table. Not every game session needs to be a deep-dive into the subconscious, and it is perfectly valid for a group to treat a game as a lighthearted diversion. "I think it has a lot to do with the culture of play at the table; it’s perfectly legitimate to not want to be in anybody’s therapy session," she cautions. The onus, she suggests, lies with the participants to cultivate an environment of trust. Her advice to players is simple but profound: "You don’t know when something profound is going to happen in a roleplaying game. My God, just play with people you like and trust." Implications for the Future of Tabletop Gaming The work of Alex Roberts signals a shift in how we might view the role of tabletop games in the 21st century. As the hobby continues to grow in popularity, the industry is increasingly recognizing that games are not just tools for escapism, but tools for connection. Whether it is through the careful curation of prompt cards or the inclusion of mechanics that allow for quiet participation, Roberts is proving that the most powerful games are the ones that prioritize the human experience. By inviting players to be seen, heard, and accepted within the bounds of a fictional narrative, she is helping to build a future where the tabletop is not just a place to play, but a place to heal. As For the Queen: Second Edition reaches a wider audience, it stands as a testament to the idea that we don’t need to be in a clinician’s office to engage in meaningful work. Sometimes, all we need is a deck of cards, a few friends, and the courage to listen. Post navigation Ungraded: The Cornish Startup Aiming to Revolutionize the High-Stakes World of Raw Trading Cards
