Born in Korea, gaming is in my DNA. I’ve always been a gamer. Video games. I started on PC, solo, then multiplayer, eventually competitive.
In 2000, a school friend invited me to play Dark Ages: Werewolf. That day changed everything. I didn’t do much during the session, but I was amazed by the idea of such games: the people, the system, the dice with more than six faces, the freedom, the story.
A few days later, that same friend gave me my first RPG book: Delta Green. Reading it was a unique experience. I quickly started mastering and playing 7th Sea, Cthulhu, Obsidian, L5R, Fading Suns, Vampire, Cyberpunk, Vermine, Cendres, Wraith and so much more… We played theatre of the mind, no minis or grids, just sketches with dice, pens, and paper.
My first purchase was Rétrofutur. Twisted worlds, Orwellian tones, a mix of Brazil, 1984, and Philip K. Dick, who became one of my biggest influences. Its system was unique, built around words and adjectives, pushing players to describe their actions instead of naming skills. We played for hours, sometimes just the two of us for months.
I thought medieval fantasy wasn’t my thing. D&D didn’t click, but Agone and Tiers Âge made me realise it wasn’t the genre, it was how it was approached. Their worlds treated magic as something subtle, nuanced, and layered. Nephilim took that further, letting players the freedom to stack godly strengths while asking them to destroy their character by counterbalancing with weaknesses.
Then came C.O.P.S., the successor to Berlin XVIII, right when HBO with The Shield was changing TV storytelling. Written like a series, released season by season, even involving players and game-masters in elections that shaped the world. It was a revelation, a gritty chronicle where the city was the main character, and players were just small parts of its pulse.
In C.O.P.S. I realised something important. Classes often create fake diversity. Everyone played a cop, yet what made each character unique was morality: where you draw the line, what you’re willing to do. Every story became a shade of grey. Persistence wasn’t about stats but about choices that evolved over years of play.
That idea, small stories inside a bigger one, stayed with me. Like in Tiers Âges, I loved not saving the world but living through it. Watching the main story unfold while being caught in our own smaller one. That perspective still defines how I write and design.
Then came Qin: The Warring States. Beautiful, challenging, and full of respect for its culture. Its dice system intrigued me: two dice, one white and one black, forming a yin-yang roll where doubles mean equilibrium and success. It showed me that systems should serve their world. It’s not about balance but harmony, about how the game feels when you play it. Pavillon Noir, a French historical game about piracy, reinforced that same idea: small stories within History.
There were too many games to count, each leaving something behind.
Today, we play less. Life happens. But I’m lucky to have found new people to share sessions with. I also organise long weekends that can last up to 24 hours of campaign time with old and new friends.
For these big moments, I started preparing campaigns in detail. When I was younger, we mostly improvised. Preparation brought props, custom sheets, visuals, and tools to enhance immersion at the table. I wanted to turn simple dice rolls into tactile experiences and create moments that feel alive.
That’s how Ludic RPG was born.