Se7en Sagas

I fall in and out of love with projects very easily.

That is not a confession of defeat. It is simply one of the truths of how I work. Some ideas arrive with fire and vanish as quickly as they came. Some seem urgent for a season, then lose their shape. Others stay. They change, they wait, they gather dust, they return, and somehow they remain alive.

Over time, I have come to understand that not all projects are the same.

Some projects are anchors, some are infatuations, some are strategic disguises, some are escape hatches, and the difference matters.

An infatuation is the beautiful new thing. It arrives with a title, a tone, a few images, perhaps even a structure. It feels like the next answer. It feels as if everything that came before was preparation for this. Sometimes that feeling is true. More often, it is weather.

An escape hatch is different. It usually appears when something hurts. A project stalls. A scene disappoints. A collaborator vanishes. A launch underperforms. A community seems closed. Suddenly, another format looks cleaner, easier, less compromised. The danger is not the new format itself, the danger is letting frustration choose the road.

A strategic disguise is something else again. It is what happens when an idea puts on another system, genre, or commercial skin in order to reach a different audience. This can be useful. It can be smart. It can also become corrosive if the disguise starts dictating the soul of the work.

Then there are anchors.

I have a sci-fantasy project that has been with me for close to fifteen years. It has changed forms more times than I can count, but it has not left. That tells me something. It may become fiction, animation, a game, or something stranger, but it is not a passing thought. It is part of the imaginative architecture I keep returning to.

Then I have a new love that has recently gained the form of a magipunk skirmish miniatures game, a project that has been with me for close to five years. It has moved from concept to rules, from rules to factions, from factions to scars, cards, boards, campaign structures, miniatures, and production questions. It is no longer just an idea. It is a world with weight, and a game trying to become the cleanest version of itself.

Other projects are more complicated. My faux Lisbon 1940 setting, for example, has also been around for years, but its recent move toward Dungeons & Dragons compatibility came from a very specific impulse. I wanted to reach a different public. I wanted to build a bridge. There is nothing shameful about that. But it raises the important question:

Would I still want this project if it did not help me reach that audience?

That is the question I now need to ask more often.

Not every exciting idea deserves a manuscript. Not every manuscript deserves layout. Not every setting deserves a line. Not every line deserves a crowdfunding campaign. And not every moment of frustration deserves a new medium.

At the same time, not every loss of excitement means a project is dead.

Sometimes the first fire fades because the project has entered the boring middle. The part with structure, editing, testing, rewriting, cutting, pricing, positioning, page counts, and production decisions. The part where possibility has to become form. For someone who loves opening worlds, closing products can feel like a betrayal of the original spark. But it is not. It is the work.

That is one of the lessons I am trying to take seriously now.

I need a clearer hierarchy for my own work.

There are life projects, the worlds that keep returning and deserve long patience.

There are product projects, the games and books that need to be finished because they are strong, usable, and worth releasing.

There are experiments, which are allowed to exist, but not allowed to devour the calendar.

And there is emotional weather, which may be useful as a signal, but should not be given control of the publishing schedule.

This also connects to the redesign of this site.

Se7en Sagas has grown in many directions. Diceless roleplaying games. Historical horror. Mythic fantasy. Solo games. Skirmish design. Animated possibilities. Small experiments. Big worlds. Some of that variety is a strength. Some of it needs better framing.

The new site design, which I hope to have online by August, is not just a visual refresh. It is an attempt to make the work easier to understand. What is available now. What is in development. What belongs to the core Se7en Sagas line. What is experimental. What is a game. What is a setting. What is a future possibility.

A better site will not solve the hard parts of making things. It will not finish books, test rules, create layouts, or find an audience by itself. But it can give the work a clearer home. It can help each project stand in its proper place, instead of everything crowding the same mental shelf.

That is what I want next.

Less panic. Less chasing. Less trying to prove the value of the work to people who may never be its audience.

More clarity. More discipline. More respect for the projects that have stayed.

The sci-fantasy project has stayed. The magipunk skirmish project has stayed.

Most importantly, Se7en Sagas has stayed.

Now the question is not whether there are enough ideas.

There are always enough ideas.

The question is which ones deserve the work that remains.

If you feel like supporting me, please head on to DriveThruRpg and see if anything resonates. Leave a comment. Leave a review if you’ve bought anything.

Best,

-Rui