Glitch had me hooked from the moment I heard the premise. In brief, you play hyperpowerful void-gods of destruction who can blow up the moon, but can't kick their insomnia; avatars of the void who can concoct grand strategies to reshape the face of the world, but struggle to pry themselves away from the laptop and take a damn shower. It's an absolutely astounding mixture of "empowerment fantasy" and "relatable content for people with depression, chronic illness, trauma or other things like that."

In spite of the heavy subject matter, and often because of it, Glitch is capable of supporting incredible emotional range. Do you want low-key tragicomic slice-of-life shenanigans in a gonzo urban fantasy setting? Easily done. Want a brooding and cathartic meditation on the nature of suffering and the unfairness of the world? You got it. Do you just wonder how ordinary tabletop hijinx and having fun with your friends escalate when the player characters are capable of acting at a cosmic scale? The answer is "like you would not believe."

If you're new to this author's games, or you've heard things but don't know quite where to start, I'd encourage you to check this out and read the other reviews. With pages of rules and an established setting, Glitch can be intimidating at first blush, but like most games, at the end of the day you're trying to tell a story. The difference is mostly in how you go about that. You earn XP for telling the story you want, using Quests (little cue cards full of scene prompts) and Arcs (a set of five quests that form a narrative structure) to guide your efforts. When you finish them, you pick up rewards, ranging from simple mechanical enhancements to the ability to rewrite your character sheet in full. Between Arcs and Ending Books, you have a number of ways to ensure that your story ends when and how you want it to. The GM is there to play the world and declare the results of your actions, which can range from simple kibitzing and "recovering some Cost for letting somebody down because you were holed up in your sanctuary hiding from the world" to "concocting a grand plan to use your infant daughter or your Instagram account to conquer a whole country" or "destroying the color red."

(But don't destroy the color red! You may be world-killing void gods, but you're supposed to be teetotal world-killing void gods in search of better coping mechanisms!)

If you've enjoyed Dr Jenna Moran's other titles, on the other hand, then Glitch is a must-have. I've played two games so far, both in playtest, and like the author's other titles, Nobilis and Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine, playing this game with my friends led to some of the best memories I've ever made at the table.

Glitch had me hooked from the moment I heard the premise. In brief, you play hyperpowerful void-gods of destruction who can blow up the moon, but can't kick their insomnia; avatars of the void who can concoct grand strategies to reshape the face of the world, but struggle to pry themselves away from the laptop and take a damn shower. It's an absolutely astounding mixture of "empowerment fantasy" and "relatable content for people with depression, chronic illness, trauma or other things like that."

In spite of the heavy subject matter, and often because of it, Glitch is capable of supporting incredible emotional range. Do you want low-key tragicomic slice-of-life shenanigans in a gonzo urban fantasy setting? Easily done. Want a brooding and cathartic meditation on the nature of suffering and the unfairness of the world? You got it. Do you just wonder how ordinary tabletop hijinx and having fun with your friends escalate when the player characters are capable of acting at a cosmic scale? The answer is "like you would not believe."

If you're new to this author's games, or you've heard things but don't know quite where to start, I'd encourage you to check this out and read the other reviews. With pages of rules and an established setting, Glitch can be intimidating at first blush, but like most games, at the end of the day you're trying to tell a story. The difference is mostly in how you go about that. You earn XP for telling the story you want, using Quests (little cue cards full of scene prompts) and Arcs (a set of five quests that form a narrative structure) to guide your efforts. When you finish them, you pick up rewards, ranging from simple mechanical enhancements to the ability to rewrite your character sheet in full. Between Arcs and Ending Books, you have a number of ways to ensure that your story ends when and how you want it to. The GM is there to play the world and declare the results of your actions, which can range from simple kibitzing and "recovering some Cost for letting somebody down because you were holed up in your sanctuary hiding from the world" to "concocting a grand plan to use your infant daughter or your Instagram account to conquer a whole country" or "destroying the color red."

(But don't destroy the color red! You may be world-killing void gods, but you're supposed to be teetotal world-killing void gods in search of better coping mechanisms!)

If you've enjoyed Dr Jenna Moran's other titles, on the other hand, then Glitch is a must-have. I've played two games so far, both in playtest, and like the author's other titles, Nobilis and Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine, playing this game with my friends led to some of the best memories I've ever made at the table.