Should we design by setting or system first?

In my opinion, neither are right or wrong they are a matter of preference, it simply depends on what you are trying to achieve.

Many designers argue that generic systems are somehow inferior because you can’t be a jack of all trades and still excel at anything. Not only do I disagree with this, but I would go further and ask, is being the best at something always desirable, if that isn’t your core aim?

For me the crux of these discussions online, isn’t that one side is right or wrong.  It is that they are talking past each other, discussing different aspects of the same issue.

In the many conversations I have had on this topic, there is a consistent blurring of lines between system, setting or genre and game type.  In reality, those are quite distinct parts of a game, coupled with play style, they form the complete tabletop experience. For me the most important one for game enjoyment is play style.  I know how I enjoy playing my games, both as GM and player.

This leads to an important distinction: genre is not the same as game type, and, with that in mind, setting is not always the right starting point.

Systems can support many styles of play and are the primary drivers of how a game feels at the table.  They can be narrative, crunchy, simulationist and just about any other niche game type you can conjure up.  What they can’t be is horror, fantasy or Sci-Fi, those are genres. Systems are mechanics, frameworks of rules designed to shape the type of experience you are aiming to create.

Genres by contrast are fictional categories for where your settings and stories sit.  You can make them crunchy, narrative, simulationist or anything in between, round the sides or beyond.  But it is generally the system of the play style that makes that happen.

Finally, there is playstyle.  While this is guided by the system and to some extent the setting, the true driver for this is play style at the table and every table will be different.

While genre changes the fiction, it is systems that set the game type.

Starting with a setting often feels natural. It is to my mind, one of the most enjoyable parts of the creative process. It is intuitive, sparks ideas, and quickly brings concepts to life on the page. A compelling world is easy to imagine and even easier to communicate to others.

Much of the momentum behind setting-first design, in my opinion, stems from the advantages it offers in marketing and identity. A clear premise, such as “a dark fantasy RPG” or “a gritty cyberpunk universe”, is immediately understandable and appealing. These are powerful tools when trying to introduce a new game to an audience.

Contrast that with the phrase, “my system is generic,” and the preference becomes clear. Without context, it can sound vague or uninspiring, even when the underlying design is elegant and versatile. From a marketing perspective, the appeal of a vivid setting is clear.

Setting-first design, therefore, is not only intuitive, it is practical. And that is why it is generally the default approach.

So why am I not doing that?

Starting from setting first design moves you away from what is the experience I am trying to get at the table.  You look for rules and systems that fit your world instead of, what experience do I want my players to have.  This often leads to systems that feel right but don’t always produce a clear or consistent play experience.  I put this mainly down to table interpretation but that is the play space we live in.

I have started with a “how do I want to play” question, regardless of setting.  I don’t want the rules to fit the world.  I want them to be irrelevant to the world, I want them to be in the background, little more than a framework for the games I want to play. I am asking the question, what experience do I want at the table, regardless of setting.  I think the experience at the table, outweighs any perceived advantages from picking your system to fit your setting.  I use the phrase picking your system very deliberately.  None of us are coming up with absolutely unique systems, what we are doing is choosing unique ways to put those systems and mechanical processes together that suits the game we want to make.

I think the process should be based on

                What do I want the game to feel like – crunchy, gritty, narrative

                How much player agency do I want

                How grim should failure be

                What should easy versus hard look like

Once I understand that I can apply settings and genres to suit the preferences of the group I am playing with.  The system should support the play style and the genre should add the background for the story to be told.

This is perhaps where the true point of this entire conversation lies. While setting-first design has its place, it often overlooks the fundamental aim of creating a game: to deliver a great player experience at the table.

I recognise that setting-first designers believe this is exactly what they are doing. However, if that goal is not the starting point, if it is not the defining principle of the design, then it is unlikely to be achieved consistently in practice.

Genre is adaptable. Game type is not.

You can change a genre relatively easily with most systems, shifting from fantasy to science fiction, horror to historical drama, with minimal mechanical alteration. But it is far more difficult to change the underlying game type while still using the same system. A system designed for tactical combat will remain fundamentally tactical; one designed for narrative storytelling will continue to guide play in that direction.

This is why the experience at the table must come first. Define how the game should feel, and the rest will follow.

This is where I think Generic systems are misunderstood.  They set a game style, not a genre, and within that system that game style is unlikely to move any more than the table it sits at.  Generic systems allow any genre to be played within a particular game style. They enable fantasy, science fiction, horror, or historical settings to coexist within a single framework. What they do not do is transform narrative play into simulationist or crunchy gameplay at will. The system is the system; it does what it is designed to do.

This is the talking across each other I alluded to earlier.

At the table, however, anything is possible. A group can turn a narrative system into a simulationist exercise or reduce a streamlined combat system into a hazy “what was it my character can do again?” nightmare. There are Dungeons & Dragons groups that play in deeply narrative styles, and Rolemaster tables that craft stories a Powered by the Apocalypse game would be proud of.

The system guides, but the table decides.

This leads to what I call the Narrative Paradox: the belief that narrative engines represent the ideal of freeform roleplaying.

Yet, to achieve narrative outcomes, these systems often rely on the consistent and deliberate enforcement of narrative mechanics. They encourage specific behaviours, define the structure of storytelling, and shape how players interact with the fiction.

Heavier systems, by contrast, may feel cumbersome or clumsy, but they frequently offer greater room for interpretation, player agency, and emergent storytelling. Their structure can leave space for groups to shape the narrative in their own way.

The obvious contradiction this creates is while narrative systems often feel free, they tell you how to play, where heavier systems often feel rigid, they let you decide.

Understanding this paradox give you an insight into my system design. Rules do not merely resolve actions, they shape experiences.

The upshot is that while setting first design is the flavour of the day, we are all aiming for a great experience at the table, and that comes from systems that suit your preferred playstyle.  My personal belief is that comes form solid system creation and rich settings, regardless of what order you create them in.