Planning TTRPGs around ASC ∧ ADHD

Planning TTRPGs Around ASC ∧ ADHD: A Campaign Format I Hope Will Work

I love tabletop roleplaying games.

I love the creativity, the collaborative storytelling, the improvised weirdness of fantasy characters trying to solve even weirder problems.

But I also have a brain that doesn’t always cooperate.

I’m autistic—I have a formal ASC diagnosis (Asperger’s, specifically)—and I strongly relate to traits often linked with ADHD: fluctuating focus, executive dysfunction, energy crashes, and an intense need for novelty and structure at the same time. That combination makes it genuinely hard to stay engaged in traditional long-form campaigns, especially as a GM.

Long arcs? Great in theory. Weekly sessions? Amazing—until one missed game turns into three, and the thread of the story slips out of reach. My players—many of whom are also neurodivergent—deal with similar things: social burnout, masking fatigue, shifting hyperfocuses, and a craving for consistency that rarely lines up with life or brain chemistry.

So this isn’t a “how-to” post. I haven’t cracked the code on neurodivergent-friendly gaming.

But I am experimenting with a campaign format built specifically for the way my brain works—and maybe for how yours works too.

What I’m Building: CSI: Town Guard Edition

CSI: Town Guard Edition is a D&D 5e campaign inspired by crime procedurals, puzzle games, and the proud tradition of yelling "I roll Insight!" at fantasy aristocrats.

It’s episodic, modular, and built around standalone mysteries—one case per session—with a rotating cast of freelance investigators covering for the mysteriously absent town guard.

Think Cluedo meets Brooklyn Nine-Nine, by way of Baldur’s Gate with paperwork.

Each case is self-contained. There are no long prep arcs, no required attendance, and no “you had to be there” plot threads. Characters can return or rotate. Players can come and go.

It’s not a perfect answer to the neurodivergent TTRPG experience.

But I’m building it as a format that might let me run games with less burnout, more flexibility—and more room for the weird, wonderful problem-solving I love about TTRPGs in the first place.

Why I Think This Format Might Work

I haven’t run this yet. But I’ve been designing it with one goal in mind: make a campaign structure that supports the way I actually function, not the way I wish I functioned.

Here’s what I’ve considered—and why I think this format has potential:

1. Self-Contained Sessions = No Pressure to Keep Up

Each case is its own mystery. There’s no need to remember what happened last time, no consequences for missing a week, and no guilt if you drop in or out.

If you show up, you play.
If you don’t, nothing breaks.

This helps me—and my players—stay engaged without stress.

2. Predictable Structure = Lower Cognitive Load

Every session follows the same arc:

• Briefing: You’re given a case.
• Investigation: You gather leads, question suspects, poke weird objects.
• Debrief: You report your findings. Ideally, you get paid.

That consistent rhythm helps me stay oriented even on low-executive-function days, and gives players a sense of security about what comes next.

3. Clear Goals = Easier Engagement

Instead of sprawling plot threads or open-world overwhelm, each session gives players a single mission: solve the case.

That kind of focused objective rewards curiosity, teamwork, and lateral thinking—and makes it easier for everyone to get into the game, even if they’re low on spoons or high on distraction.

4. Optional Continuity = Flexible Investment

Returning characters can grow—gain perks, relationships, maybe side plots. But if someone only plays once? That’s still valid.

The format doesn’t penalize inconsistency. It rewards engagement, but never demands it.

5. Room for Hyperfocus = Joyful Weirdness

This is a world where someone can spend 20 minutes analyzing a suspicious bookshelf—and it might actually matter.

This format invites niche obsessions, oddball strategies, and character quirks to shine. Because sometimes, that weird arcane smudge is the key.

What I’ve Designed for Myself, as a Neurodivergent GM

Running this campaign is meant to be low-friction. That meant designing around the reality of how my brain works—not idealized best practices.

• Prep is templated. I use a fill-in-the-blanks mystery format: pick a crime, choose 4–6 suspects, place some clues, done.
• NPCs are archetypes. I don’t write long backstories. I build around roles like “eccentric alchemist” or “grumpy desk clerk,” then improvise.
• Structure is modular. I know what Act 1, 2, and 3 look like—even if I’m foggy, anxious, or executive-functioning at 40%.
• Flexibility is intentional. If players go off-script, I pivot. The framework adapts.

But here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: even with all this, the hardest part is when a session doesn’t fire.

When someone cancels last-minute. When there aren’t enough players. When I’ve spent spoons I didn’t really have on prep—and then nothing happens.

That emotional crash? It’s real.

So I’ve designed around that too.

Every case I prep is evergreen. Self-contained. Reusable.

If no one shows up? The case goes back in the drawer. Nothing’s wasted. No fragile arc collapses. No emotional climax gets postponed forever.

The game becomes resilient—always playable, never pressuring.

Not lazy GMing. Just sustainable GMing.

What’s Next: Time to See If It Works

I don’t know yet if this format works. But it feels possible—and for me, that’s already a huge win.

Over the next few months, I’ll start playtesting CSI: Town Guard Edition with friends who, like me, juggle inconsistent energy, social hangovers, executive dysfunction, and the occasional hyperfixation on fantasy evidence lockers.

I’ll be testing:

• Pacing and mystery flow
• How well the format supports drop-in characters
• What types of rewards and scaffolding help people re-engage
• Whether the structure holds up on low-spoon days

I’ll share what works, what doesn’t, and what mutates into something better.

If this idea resonates with you—or if you’ve built something similar—I’d love to hear about it.

Let’s keep building TTRPGs that are more flexible, more joyful, and more realistic for brains like ours.

P.S. Lady Scarlet, minor aristocrat and major gossip, was found dead in the tavern, floating two metres above the ground. An immovable rod has been reported stolen. Eyewitnesses insist, “No one uttered the command word.”