Today I begin a new adventure at Wizards of the Coast as a Senior Game Designer.
This announcement is nothing short of a dream come true for me. I love D&D with all my heart, and I hope to be a good steward of this game that has touched so many lives, mine included.
The early days of my game design career coincided with my time as a clinic manager. I essentially worked three jobs to position myself for the leap to a full-time career in tabletop, squeezing in writing over lunch and after dinner when I wasn’t working on something for B&G.
The past three years have featured countless cups of coffee and late nights, but I share this milestone equally with the friends, peers, and mentors that I’ve met along the way. People who took time to give me advice and hope or who joined me on projects we championed together.
The list of these folks is long, but I must give credit to a few of these spectacular individuals.
First and foremost is my wife and light, Samantha, who has supported me unwaveringly from the beginning and reminds me of my strengths when I am preoccupied with my weaknesses.
My friend and mentor Ajit George, an altruistic gardener who devotes his life to uplifting people of color and celebrating their successes, and Carlos and Surena, the wholesome TTRPG power couple who introduced me to him for a project which will forever be close to my heart.
My best friend and design partner, Anthony Joyce-Rivera, a caring father who challenged me early on. Anthony has received dozens of my bizarre voicemails where I practice many of my D&D voices and try to make him laugh. Love that man.
The Company of the Black Blade, my D&D group of over five years: Ivonne, Jess, Sam, Tony, and Rick (also Tomás, Toro, and the occasional Nate). They cheered me on despite the bittersweet reveal that we’d be moving. I’ve spent more time with them than I have almost anyone else.
All of the folks at B&G, whose first words to me when I broke the news were ones of congratulation.
Laura Hirsbrunner, Sadie Lowry, Mario Ortegon, and Hannah Rose, who are spectacular editors & designers but even better friends (somehow).
Brian Holmes, my first project lead.
My parents, who I’m pretty sure still don’t know what I do for a living but are nonetheless happy that their son has found joy…even though he ditched medicine to go play with dice and little dragon miniatures.
All my Iranian mutuals who endure my tabletop gaming posts even if they’ve never played D&D—we should fix that, by the way! Don’t worry, I’ll continue to post mouthwatering pictures of the Persian food I cook.
Of course, the many fine folks at Wizards who work hard each day to bring joy to game tables around the world, but especially Wesley Schneider, Chris Perkins, and Jeremy Crawford, who have taught me much throughout my career.
And everyone else who has assisted me along the way.
Now it’s time to give back to the hobby that helped make me who I am today.
My goal is to leave Dungeons & Dragons better than I found it. I can’t wait to get started.
I just want to express how much I appreciate all of the words of confidence, love, and support. Thank you for sharing this joy with me. You all have made my day. ❤️
How do you feel about the following D&D house rule?
If a spellcaster casts polymorph on an unwilling creature, and the target passes its Wisdom saving throw, the caster must then pass their own spell save DC or be turned into their originally intended form.
I've never been a fan of using polymorph to turn the boss into a weaker form—a rodent, bug, etc. Even after legendary resistances, it feels like a cheese move!
Good thoughts all around! Sounds like while some folks are a fan of this, there are some issues. Some worth noting:
▪️ Why just this spell? Any implications for others?
▪️ It's concentration, so can't it be immediately dropped?
▪️ DMs should just be able to adapt by countering
The first time I introduced a demilich to our D&D table was the playwright Thaeziagnuz.
When the party arrived in his lair, they waded through knee-deep piles of crumpled pages, torn from a script that never was.
One of the characters knelt down and picked up one of the pages.
As they smoothed it out, they noticed their own name several times. It was a page of dialogue that closely matched a previous session, but it differed ever so slightly and changed the outcome of the scene.
They picked up another.
An epic battle with a blue dragon that had occurred years ago. They had triumphed, but in this version, a character blundered the killing blow, and the dragon's lair had become their tomb.
The characters began rifling through the sea of torn pages. They were all about them.
My uncle asked me last week how I jumped from healthcare to tabletop RPGs. This is a question I get fairly often as most of my education is related to health science—can I get a Medicine check?
As boring as it may be, my answer basically boils down to "I worked really hard." 🧵
I don't have a writing degree. I wish I did, but creative pursuits were always treated as hobbies rather than legitimate careers (which isn't surprising if you knew my mom and dad's stories).
I knew I had (and still have) a lot of room to learn and grow, so I just spent every ounce of free time I had trying to level up my TTRPG skills.
At work, I would sit with this little book nearby so that if a flash of inspiration came, I'd write it down and continue working.
The first time I played a bard was in D&D 3.5. He was a pistol-twirling mountebank who stole the name, appearance, and reputation of a feared gangster—he was also a changeling.
My DM said I had to give up music to learn firearms.
On my character sheet, my instrument said "gun."
After playing a musket-wielding minotaur, I wasn't about to spend half of combat reloading!
Gil wielded two flintlocks. He'd cast Unseen Servant whenever combat was likely, giving it the command to reload his pistols. By the time one was empty, the other was freshly loaded!
I kind of hated this character by the end of the campaign. He was a real piece of work. It made me realize that I don't like playing scoundrels.
There was an embarrassing session where I felt really torn (classic "it's what my character would do"), so I retired him.