So? You think you’re just making a game?
That's cute!

You’re a writer, squeezing words until your eyes burn.
You’re an editor, strangling sentences until they finally behave.
You’re a layout artist, still nudging text boxes at 2 AM.
You’re a graphic designer who never applied for the job.

You're also a print technician when your printer sends you back a PDF with more red marks than a crime scene: wrong bleed, wrong color space, wrong everything... Do you even know what CYMK is?

And business?
That’s you too: publisher, accountant, customer support.

"Oh, my PDF doesn’t load on my Nokia 3310, can you fix that?"
Sure. Add time traveler tech support to the résumé.

Want a brand? Congrats! You’re marketing now.
You chase algorithms, beg for interaction, and write posts no one sees?
Guess what? You’re a community manager too.

And through it all? You’re broke (most of us are).
You’re exhausted (I know I am).
And... you’re screaming into the void:

“Why the hell am I doing this?”

You're doing this because the idea won’t die.
Because the world in your skull won’t stop clawing.
Because you’ve seen the magic happen when your friends enjoyed playing that homebrewed world you built.

It eats you alive. But it makes you dangerous.

Every late night, every failure, every skill you learn just to survive, they make your mind sharper, they make you more resilient, they make you unstoppable.

Then, one morning, you wake up, and you're a writer, an editor, a layout artist, a graphic designer, a print technician, a time traveler tech support (ok maybe just tech support!), a marketer, and a community manager.

Your real-life character sheet is now stacked with skills you never asked for but learned the hard way.

You are an indie TTRPG creator. You are a force to be reckoned with and you are unstoppable...