Solo-RPGs for character generation

I like showing up to session zero with a character who already has scars. The quickest way I’ve found is to play a different game first. Solo RPGs make prep feel like play, and they hand you a background that reads like a story instead of a spreadsheet. You get constraints, surprises, and the occasional terrible decision you now have to live with—exactly the kind of texture collaborative play feeds on.

How I fold this into prep is simple:

• Pick a solo game that matches the vibe of the character I want.
• Set a 45–90 minute timer.
• Play until I have 5–7 concrete facts, at least one problem, one person, and one place I care about.
• Stop early, extract the good bits, and leave a few secrets to discover at the table.

That last step matters. A journaling game can happily sprawl into a novel; your table needs a person who can act next session. I usually compress the output into 200-ish words and a handful of hooks for the GM.

Games that pull their weight

• Thousand Year Old Vampire. Tim Hutchings’ journaling masterpiece will take your mortal through loss, obsession, and centuries of bad coping strategies.¹ For character generation, don’t play to the end. Stop once you’ve got a clutch of vivid memories, one unforgivable act, and a nemesis. Otherwise you’ll exit with an unplayable demigod who’s eaten their entire address book.

• Star Trek: Captain’s Log. A solo-friendly take on the 2d20 Trek line with a full life-path that’s explicitly geared toward officers.² It shines if you want a Starfleet character with actual postings, mentors, and that one disastrous first contact you’d rather not discuss at the Admiral’s dinner. Works for science and medical types too, but it’s pitched at people with rank.

• Lichdom. A tight, melancholic descent from mortal spellcaster to undying problem.³ You’ll define anchors, sacrifices, and the price you paid for immortality. It’s perfect for D&D-adjacent play, but the outcomes slot neatly into any dark fantasy. You may want to dial back the collateral damage if you’re aiming for “PC who can team up,” not “final boss.”

• The Last Tea Shop. Jeeyon Shim’s gentle, liminal game about tending a teahouse on the border of the afterlife.⁴ Odd pick for character gen? It works beautifully if you want someone who used to be a bar-keep (or any service job): regulars, small kindnesses, a quiet regret—grounded texture without angst for angst’s sake.

• The Assassin. A focused, noir-tinged tool for the retired professional dragged back for one last job.⁵ You’ll come away with an old code name, a botched contract that still echoes, and a contact who won’t pick up the phone anymore. Narrow in scope, excellent at what it does. Good seed for Blades in the Dark, modern thrillers, or a grim fantasy knife-for-hire.

• Elegy. A solo framework for building an advanced Vampire: The Masquerade character with political baggage and a bestiary of bad decisions.⁶ The prompts lean into age, debts, and the Beast’s fingerprints on your unlife. Great if your chronicle starts with heavier hitters; less ideal for fledglings.

Why bother with any of this? Because it’s prep that plays like a game. Randomizers and constraints short-circuit analysis paralysis. You’ll make sharper, weirder choices than you would staring at a character sheet, and the result is a background with momentum. I personally keep two or three “off-ramps” in mind while playing—natural stopping points where I can freeze the fiction, translate it into system terms, and save the rest for play. It feels like cheating. It isn’t.