Beyond the Table: How Alex Roberts Bridges the Gap Between Game Design and Therapeutic Practice
Alex Roberts is a name synonymous with the modern tabletop renaissance, having crafted titles like the Jenga-fueled RPG Star Crossed and the celebrated storytelling card game For the Queen. However, Roberts operates in a dual capacity that is increasingly defining the evolution of interactive media: she is both an innovative game designer and a practicing professional counsellor. This intersection of creative design and clinical practice has not only informed the mechanics of her games but has also ignited a broader conversation about the inherent therapeutic potential of tabletop roleplaying games (TTRPGs) in an age of digital isolation.
The Mechanics of Connection
For the Queen, recently published in its second edition by Darrington Press—the production studio founded by the team behind the wildly popular web series Critical Role—serves as the primary case study for Roberts’ design philosophy. At its core, the game is a collaborative storytelling experience. Players assume the roles of attendants to a matriarchal monarch, navigating a deck of prompt cards that force them to reconcile their loyalty, their fears, and their personal relationships with the sovereign.
Unlike traditional RPGs that prioritize combat or resource management, For the Queen is entirely driven by narrative inquiry. The game structure mandates active listening; because the gameplay loop requires players to respond to questions and then engage with the responses of others, it creates a "primed" environment for emotional receptivity. Roberts notes that this design choice was deliberate. By forcing players to move beyond the "separate turn" model often found in board gaming, she encourages a cohesive, communal atmosphere where the journey of the conversation is the victory condition.
A Chronology of Collaborative Storytelling
The trajectory of For the Queen began as an indie darling, quickly gaining traction within the TTRPG community for its simplicity and emotional depth. Its rise mirrored the broader "story game" movement, which shifted the focus from rule-heavy systems like Dungeons & Dragons toward games that prioritize player interaction and social dynamics.
The release of the second edition by Darrington Press marks a significant milestone in the game’s lifecycle. This transition from independent release to a major publishing house demonstrates the mainstreaming of narrative-first games. During this transition, Roberts conducted an iterative design process. She reviewed player feedback from thousands of sessions, identifying prompts that caused unnecessary friction or negative emotional responses. Notably, she removed a prompt regarding physical appearance—specifically one telling players they were "ugly"—acknowledging that while conflict is a part of storytelling, there is a distinct difference between meaningful narrative tension and gratuitous, unproductive negativity.
The Therapeutic Parallel
Roberts’ dual career provides a unique lens through which to view the "reparative" nature of play. In her clinical work, she often encounters patients who are searching for safe environments to explore emotions that are suppressed in their daily lives. She draws a direct line between the therapeutic alliance—the collaborative relationship between a therapist and a client—and the "table culture" of a well-run RPG session.
According to psychological studies regarding the efficacy of narrative therapy, the act of "externalizing" problems—moving them from one’s internal monologue into a shared, fictional space—can significantly reduce the stigma and anxiety associated with trauma. When players inhabit a character who faces challenges, they are provided with a "rehearsal space" for real-world emotional regulation.
Roberts emphasizes that this does not require a clinical setting. "We often talk about therapeutic relationships as being a rehearsal for other relationships; these things can also happen in the roleplaying space," she explains. By subverting traditional gendered emotional expectations—such as the societal pressure for men to suppress sadness or for women to avoid expressing anger—games like For the Queen allow players to practice vulnerability in a structured, supported environment.
Supporting Data and Industry Context
The TTRPG industry has seen a massive surge in interest over the past decade. According to market research from ICv2 and various industry analysts, the hobby gaming sector has experienced compound annual growth rates of nearly 10% since 2017. While much of this is driven by the popularity of Dungeons & Dragons, a significant portion of this growth is attributed to "indie" games that offer more accessible, shorter, and emotionally resonant experiences.
The emergence of games as a tool for mental health support is supported by recent initiatives from organizations like RPG Therapeutics and various educational institutions that have begun utilizing TTRPGs in social-emotional learning (SEL) programs. These programs utilize the same principles Roberts highlights: the power of being "empathetically witnessed" by peers. The evidence suggests that for many, the social bonding occurring during gameplay offers a form of community-based healing that traditional, isolated digital interaction cannot replicate.
Global Perspectives on Healing
Roberts points to a fascinating cultural dichotomy in how "therapy" is defined. She references programs in Rwanda that focused on communal trauma processing, where individuals often rejected Western-style, one-on-one therapy in favor of collective, community-based mourning and storytelling. This serves as a reminder that human beings have historically managed trauma through narrative and shared experience, long before the formal establishment of modern clinical psychology.
This insight underpins her design philosophy: games do not need to be labeled as "therapy" to provide the profound benefits of emotional catharsis. By creating a space where a player’s contribution is heard and validated, the game acts as a proxy for social connection. This is particularly vital for the "quieter" players, whom Roberts intentionally designs for. Her inclusion of a "pass" mechanic—allowing players to abstain from a prompt without social penalty—is a critical design element that ensures the game remains an inclusive sanctuary rather than a source of pressure.
Broader Implications and Future Outlook
The implications of this approach are significant for both the gaming industry and the mental health field. As we move toward a more integrated understanding of digital and tabletop play, the line between "entertainment" and "wellness" is blurring. Experts in the field of play-based therapy suggest that the demand for these "soft skills" in gaming will only increase as players seek deeper, more meaningful engagement from their tabletop experiences.
For the Queen, in its refined second edition, represents a maturation of this genre. It demonstrates that designers are taking their roles as social architects seriously. By balancing the need for creative freedom with a commitment to player safety and inclusivity, Roberts has set a standard for how games can facilitate human connection.
However, Roberts is careful to temper expectations. She warns that not every game should be a therapy session, nor is every group suitable for such deep emotional work. "I think it has a lot to do with the culture of play at the table," she notes. "It’s perfectly legitimate to not want to be in anybody’s therapy session." The success of this model relies entirely on trust, consent, and the intentional curation of the group.
As the industry looks forward, the intersection of clinical insight and mechanical design will likely continue to yield titles that are as transformative as they are fun. For players, the takeaway is clear: when choosing a game, one should consider not just the mechanics of the dice or cards, but the culture of the people sitting around the table. In the right environment, the simple act of telling a story can become a profound tool for growth, empathy, and personal healing.
As For the Queen continues to reach new audiences, it stands as a testament to the fact that, at their best, games are not just escapes from reality—they are ways of processing it. Whether at the table or in the therapist’s office, the core human need remains the same: to be heard, to be understood, and to be acknowledged as a valuable participant in a shared narrative.
