Welcome to the second in a series of Design Diaries for Rocket Club by the game’s creator, Em Hubbard:
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My journey as a game designer started during the Covid pandemic. It was a difficult time, but I was one of the lucky ones. I had shifted to working remotely (and not working much), and roleplaying games were my main social outlet. Around this time I heard an actual play podcast of Grant Howitt’s “The Witch is Dead.” I had never heard of a one-page rpg, and the concept fascinated me. It’s an amazing game with so much rich detail and story potential packed into a very small space. Always up for a challenge, I tried writing my own and was instantly smitten.
As an artist, I’ve been making paintings and installations for a long time. I’ve always approached art as a form of problem-solving. I start with an idea that I want to express or a story to tell, and then figure out how to do it. What is the best medium? How far can I push an image before it breaks? How can I make an invisible string connecting one artwork in the room to another?
Writing games was a similar process. There was the feeling of a conversation between myself and an imaginary audience. There was the process of taking an expansive idea and fitting it into a confined space. I loved distilling a big idea into a small amount of text then fitting it all onto a single page in a way that was legible, visually appealing, and, most importantly, fun.
Rocket Club was my fifth or sixth one-page game. Around the time I wrote it, I was reading a lot about Greta Thunberg’s climate activism as well as the activist survivors of the Parkland school shooting. In the face of what seemed like a constant barrage of crises, I was moved by the strength and resolve that I was seeing in young people around the world. I wanted to make something fun and a little silly, but also focus on the power of youth and their unfortunate position as heirs to a damaged world with no choice but to save it themselves.
With most of my mini games, I’d play them with friends a couple times, give them away, and then forget about them. In any artistic projects, I’ve always felt compelled to move onto the next thing and the next thing. The most exciting project was always the next one. But Rocket Club was different. I planned a single session game that turned into four, and it was one of the best game experiences I’d ever had. I certainly owe a lot to the first group of players who took the concept and the mini rules and ran with them. The game was wildly fun and moving, and I wanted more!
I don’t remember what exactly compelled me to make the leap from a single page and try developing Rocket Club into a full book-length game. I wanted to be able to play the game again and again, but the single sheet of A4 paper didn’t leave room for that much depth. I wanted the characters to be more three-dimensional and to make room for them to grow and change. I wanted a game that could be played as a long-term campaign. It was a daunting experiment for me, as I had, until then, never written a game longer than a single page.
I’m looking at that one page game now. It’s in a horizontal format, with boxes of text scattered here and there. A rough vector illustration of a goofy blue-haired kid rockets skyward surrounded by explosions and tiny flying saucers. I’m amazed at how much of that single page is still in the game today – reputations, rocket specialties, secrets, aliens, and even the basics of the dice mechanics.
The bones were all there. All I had to do was give each part of the game more space to soar.
Ready to jump into your own Rocket Rig and start testing the boundaries of science? Learn more about Rocket Club here or sign up for a playtest at this link!