Most of my PhD&D Adventures revolve around me as a player—a character thrown into chaos, uncovering lessons through story, psychology, and consequence.
But today, we’re flipping perspectives. Because sometimes the adventure isn’t on the battlefield. Sometimes it’s behind the screen.
I’ve been stepping into the role of Dungeon Master more often lately—running a low-level D&D game on Saturdays when we’re not deep in Shadowrun, epic-level shenanigans, or one of Henry’s many campaigns. And on Mondays, I’ve been running something even more personal: a campaign set in my world of Aestraea. A world that didn’t start as a game. A world that started as a story.
Building a World While Building a Life
Aestraea is the setting for my Hearthlight Cycle—my planned fantasy series. It’s the world I’ve been slowly shaping: cultures, races, holidays, landscapes, magic systems, politics, myths… All the things that normally take authors years of quiet work to craft.
Except I’m not doing it quietly. Or slowly. Or alone. Because one day, Schultz looked at me—with the kind of creative mischief that should come with a warning label—and said: “You know this shouldn’t just be a book, right? This could be a game setting.”
And suddenly, the Hearthlight Cycle wasn’t just a someday-novel. It became a living world. A breathing ecosystem. A table-ready setting with the potential for a Player’s Handbook. Not because I planned it. But because someone saw the architecture in my imagination and said, “Hey. Let’s build this together.”
The Podcast Shift I Didn’t Know I Needed
This is also the same Schultz who formatted the ebook file for my poetry collection, The Tavern at Map’s Edge, which releases Friday (!!). He took one look at The CEO Showgirl podcast and said, “You know what this actually is? PhD&D Adventures.”
I laughed—because it was true. My work has always been a blend of scholarship and storytelling, psychology and play. But I never would have rebranded on my own.
Executive dysfunction has a way of turning every desire into a stalled project. Ideas pile up. Scripts sit half-written. Production becomes a mountain that only grows each time you look at it.
Schultz didn’t just suggest the new format; he offered to write the scripts, produce the podcast, and carry the operational weight that my brain simply can’t. Which means PhD&D Adventures won’t just live on Substack. It will live in audio, too. Breathing. Growing. Becoming something bigger than I could build alone.
The Psychology of Collaborative Imagination
Stepping into the DM’s seat in my own world revealed something I hadn’t expected: that my players—not me—would show me what Aestraea truly is. Because when you worldbuild in isolation, it’s theory. When you worldbuild at a table, it becomes reality.
Players poke holes in your lore. They wander into corners you forgot to light. They form emotional attachments to things you thought were minor. They make choices that reveal the world’s strengths and its missing pieces.
And psychologically? That’s fascinating. It turns worldbuilding into a dialogue instead of a monologue. A co-created narrative instead of a solitary act of perfectionism.
It’s the antidote to executive dysfunction: not forcing yourself to work harder, but allowing creation to be relational.
One Project at a Time… Maybe
Will Aestraea eventually become a full game setting?
Possibly. Probably. If I know this circle of brilliant, chaotic creatives, then… yes.
Will we eventually write a Player’s Handbook for it?
If I keep worldbuilding at this rate, almost certainly. But not today. And not all at once.
This story—like all of my stories—gets built in pieces. Shared. Explored. Laughed over. Broken. Rebuilt. Loved into existence. One session. One chapter. One collaboration at a time.
The Lesson
Sometimes the biggest adventure isn’t slaying the dragon. It’s letting someone help you carry the torch.
Sometimes leadership isn’t about control. It’s about co-creation.
And sometimes the DM screen isn’t a barrier, it’s an invitation.
So I’ll leave you with this:
What dream of yours becomes possible the moment you let someone else build it with you?
Until next time, adventurers! May your worlds expand, your collaborators be kind, and your creativity find its way home.
💋 Chrissy
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