The Healing Power of Play: How Alex Roberts Merges Game Design with Therapeutic Practice

In the landscape of modern tabletop gaming, few titles have captured the intersection of narrative depth and emotional resonance quite like For the Queen. While the game is widely celebrated as a triumph of minimalist design, its creator, Alex Roberts, brings a unique professional perspective to the table: she is not only a visionary game designer—known also for the Jenga-powered RPG Star Crossed—but a practicing counselor.

For Roberts, the worlds of tabletop roleplaying games (TTRPGs) and psychological counseling are not disparate silos. Instead, they are deeply interconnected, sharing a common foundation of empathy, active listening, and the pursuit of catharsis. As the second edition of For the Queen hits shelves via Critical Role’s publishing arm, Darrington Press, the industry is taking a closer look at how play can serve as a potent tool for human connection and emotional healing.

The Architect of Connection: Main Facts

For the Queen is a collaborative storytelling game that strips away the complex dice mechanics and character sheets often associated with the TTRPG genre. Instead, it relies on a deck of evocative prompt cards. Players assume the roles of attendants to a matriarchal monarch, embarking on a journey that forces them to grapple with themes of loyalty, power, and their own relationship with authority.

The core of the experience lies in the act of listening. As cards are drawn, players answer questions that build a shared narrative tapestry. The game is intentionally designed to bypass the “my turn, then your turn” structure common in competitive play, fostering a circular, conversational dynamic. Roberts notes that the game’s structure “primes” players to listen with intent, as every response serves as a prompt for the next person’s contribution.

A Chronology of Design and Evolution

The journey of For the Queen from a niche indie project to a second edition published by a major studio like Darrington Press reflects the growing maturity of the tabletop market.

• Initial Conception: Roberts designed the original game to explore the nuances of power dynamics. She observed that traditional games often focused on combat or mechanical mastery, whereas she was interested in the social friction of being in the orbit of an all-powerful ruler.
• The Iteration Phase: Through hundreds of playtests, Roberts identified not just what worked, but what didn’t. In the original version, some prompts—such as those centered on physical appearance—often elicited negative, defensive reactions from players. Roberts made the conscious decision to excise these in the second edition, prioritizing the emotional safety of the table over the inclusion of every initial idea.
• The Second Edition Launch: With the recent publication by Darrington Press, the game has received a visual overhaul, including new, diverse representations of the Queen herself. This evolution signifies a shift in the industry: recognizing that the “game” is only as good as the space it creates for the people playing it.

Supporting Data: The Anatomy of a Therapeutic Space

The efficacy of Roberts’ design philosophy is supported by the way players engage with the “pass” mechanic. In For the Queen, any player may choose to pass on a card if the prompt touches on a subject that feels too personal or uncomfortable.

Roberts cites her own sister as a case study in effective design. Despite passing on nearly half of the prompts during a session, her sister remained fully engaged in the narrative journey. This confirms a crucial design principle: the agency to opt-out is just as vital as the incentive to participate.

Why “Quiet” Players Matter

In many social settings, those who are not the loudest in the room are often viewed as disengaged. Roberts challenges this, noting that her design goal is to provide a "container" where silence or observation is a valid form of participation. By allowing players to opt-out, the game removes the performance anxiety that often acts as a barrier to authentic expression.

Official Responses and Philosophical Insights

In interviews regarding her dual career, Roberts has been transparent about how her counseling practice informs her game development, and vice versa.

"Playing story games made me a better counselor," Roberts asserts. "I obviously got into making games because it’s fun, but it’s taught me how to pay close attention and listen to people."

Roberts argues that there is a profound power in being "empathetically witnessed." In her view, the tabletop space functions much like a group therapy session. When a player confesses a fictional character’s secret or expresses a sentiment through their role, and the rest of the table acknowledges that truth without judgment, it creates a "reparative experience."

The Subversion of Gendered Expectations

One of the most striking aspects of Roberts’ work is her focus on how games allow players to move beyond societal constraints. She points to the "hyper-gendered" nature of human expression—where, for instance, men are often conditioned to express anger rather than sadness, and women the inverse.

"I’m interested in the healing that comes from expressing emotions you’re not expressing daily," Roberts says. By stepping into a character, a player can experiment with behaviors that they feel denied in their real lives. This, she notes, is not a replacement for professional therapy, but a valuable, informal form of emotional release that has existed in human cultures long before modern clinical psychology.

The Implications: Is All Play Therapeutic?

The rise of "TTRPGs as therapy" is a topic of significant discourse within the tabletop community. However, Roberts is careful to delineate between a professional clinical environment and the recreational table.

The Culture of the Table

Roberts emphasizes that for a game to provide healing benefits, the "culture of play" at the table must be healthy. She warns that not every gaming group is equipped—or desires—to engage in deep, vulnerable, or therapeutic work. "It’s perfectly legitimate to not want to be in anybody’s therapy session," she notes.

The implication here is one of consent. If players are seeking an experience that borders on the therapeutic, they must ensure they are in a space with people they "like and trust."

The Cultural Context of Healing

Roberts also highlights a broader, cross-cultural observation. While Western society has become heavily reliant on one-to-one, professionalized therapy, other cultures have historically relied on communal, shared experiences—such as communal grief or collective storytelling—to process suffering.

"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," Roberts says. Her games offer a low-stakes, accessible bridge to these ancient forms of communal support.

Conclusion: The Future of Narrative Design

As the tabletop industry continues to expand, the influence of designers like Alex Roberts will likely grow. For the Queen serves as a benchmark for what is possible when a designer prioritizes the human element over rigid mechanics.

The takeaway for the broader community is clear: games have the potential to be more than just a diversion. When constructed with empathy and a deep understanding of human psychology, they can become vessels for connection, allowing us to rehearse the relationships we want in the real world. As Roberts concludes, "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."

By focusing on the capacity for players to be heard, acknowledged, and validated, For the Queen does not merely ask players to tell a story; it invites them to participate in the ancient, necessary human work of being understood.