For example, if I prompt "Invent an entirely new rpg with new mechanics set in an original world from scratch, and write a flavorful guide with the rules. Not a simple variant on PbtA or BitD or DnD, and dice should not be a primary mechanism. The whole idea should have some heft and bite," I get the thing below.
Some interesting writing and ideas that draw you in, but completely incoherent as you start to look at it more closely, including impossible mechanisms and nonsensical elements.
THE SHIVERING VERSE: A GAME OF HOLDING TOGETHER WHAT WANTED TO DIE
A Roleplaying Game of Melancholy Heroism, Memory, and the Physics of Falling Apart
INTRODUCTION: THE LAST EXHALE
The world ended. Not with a bang or whimper, but with a shiver—a fundamental frequency of reality that sheared creation into screaming fragments. Now all that remains are the Shatters: jagged archipelagos of existence floating in the Void-That-Sings. The Void sings a lullaby of forgetting, and everything—stone, skin, sinew—wants to dissolve into its easy silence.
You are an Anchor. You remember when your Shatter was whole. You remember the laws. The names. The warmth. And by remembering, you hold it together. Your will is a scar tissue across the wound of the world. But memory is a finite resource. The more you use yourself to preserve, the more you fray.
This is not a game about winning. This is a game about choosing what survives you.
CHAPTER ONE: THE MECHANISM
The Echo Chamber is our engine. It is a cloth—preferably heavy linen, dark as old bruises—spread before you. It is your character sheet, your dice, and your gravemarker.
You possess twelve Resonance Stones: 3 white (Memory), 3 blue (Will), 3 green (Bond), 3 black (Shadow). They are smooth, cool, and real. Hold them. They are you.
The Guide (GM) possesses a hoard of red Dissonance Stones: the Void's reply.
THE SHIVER: RESOLUTION IN FOUR MOVES
When you attempt something dangerous, uncertain, or meaningful:
DECLARE YOUR INTENT
State, with clarity, what you hope to achieve. "I will convince the Sundered Council to divert the river's memory before it evaporates." The table must repeat it back, in unison. This is the Cant—the spell of focus that holds the universe still for a moment.
WEAVE YOUR ECHO
Place up to three of your stones on the cloth, describing how each aspect fuels your attempt. You may not place more stones than you have available (stones in your pool vs. those already lost to the Void).
Memory (White): "I recall the old irrigation treaties, written in my mentor's hand."
Bond (Green): "The Council's Speaker owes me. I saved her daughter's name from erasure."
Shadow (Black): "I let them see my desperation. My fear of the drought."You choose what to risk. This is everything.
INVITE DISSONANCE
The Guide adds 1 to 5 red stones based on:
Threat: How badly does the Void want this to fail? (1-3)
Instability: How cracked is the Shatter already? (+1 per major fissure)
Folly: Are you defying the established lore of your own memories? (+1)
THE SHIVER
The Anchor player gathers the cloth's edges. For five seconds—counted aloud by the next player—the cloth is shaken. Not violently. A tremor. A shudder. The way a world does when it's deciding whether to keep existing. Stones skitter, collide, seek edges.While shaking, the Cant is whispered. The table holds its breath.
THE REVEAL & RESOLUTION
Open the cloth flat. Stones have settled or fallen.
FALLEN STONES are Lost to the Void. Remove them from your pool permanently.
REMAINING STONES endure but are Frayed: turn them face-down. They cannot be used again until you Suture (rest and heal).Interpreting the Fall:
If ANY of YOUR stones remain: You succeed. Narrate how, incorporating the aspects that held fast. For each of YOUR stones that fell, the Guide introduces a Fracture—an immediate, personal cost. Lost Memory: you forget a key detail. Lost Will: you falter, showing weakness. Lost Bond: you hurt someone you tethered. Lost Shadow: your hidden nature is exposed.
If ALL your stones fell: You fail catastrophically. The Void sings louder. The Shatter cracks. A permanent feature of your world is Unraveled—maybe the river never existed, maybe the Council building dissolves mid-meeting. The Guide records this. It is now true.
If NO your stones fell (pure success): This is a Bitter Harmony. You succeed purely, but the Void takes note. The Guide keeps one red Dissonance stone from the cloth in a Suspicion Pool. When that pool exceeds the number of players, the Void makes a Glossolalia Move—a reality-eating entity notices your
Shatter.Red Stones: Dissonance that falls is discarded. Dissonance that remains on the cloth becomes Embedded Dissonance. It stays there, a physical threat on your cloth, until a future Shiver includes it—adding its count to the Dissonance rolled against you. The Void's echo lingers.
CHAPTER TWO: YOUR FOUR PILLARS (CHARACTER CREATION)
You are not stats. You are what you have left. Record your twelve stones on a simple grid—four columns, three rows. As they are Lost, cross them out with a pen that bleeds through the paper.
Choose your Anchor's Origin: This gives you your starting Lore—three specific memories that are mechanically enforceable truths about the Shatter. Write them as inviolable statements. "The Spire of Un-Ticking was built by the Silent Architect." While this memory lives (i.e., you have at least one Memory stone), this is true. If you lose all Memory, the Spire may never have been.
Define your Tethers: For each Bond stone, name a person, place, or principle you anchor. When that Bond stone falls, that tether is damaged. If all three are Lost, you become a Drift—a character who no longer believes the Shatter is worth saving. You become an NPC controlled by the Guide, a walking entropy.
Embrace your Shadow: Your black stones are not evil. They are the weight you hide: trauma, rage, shame, forbidden knowledge. Using them is powerful but when they fall, they expose you. The Guide gains a Secret about you that is now true and exploitable.
CHAPTER THREE: THE SHATTER & THE SESSION
The Shatter is mapped on a large cloth of its own—shared, central. Locations are marked with objects: a coin for the Market-of-Names, a key for the Gateless City. When a location is Unraveled, the Guide removes its object mid-session without announcement. Players notice when they reach for it and it's gone.
Time is measured in Refrains—scenes that end when the Cant is spoken. There is no day/night. Only the song's verses.
The Guide's Void Moves:
Unraveling: Threaten a truth. "The Void sings that your sister's name is hollowing."
Embedding: Place Dissonance stones on a player's cloth that persist.
Glossolalia: When the Suspicion Pool is full, send a reality-devouring entity that erases customs, laws, or physics. It must be fought not with violence but by re-establishing a forgotten truth—requiring a Shiver where Memory is mandatory.
CHAPTER FOUR: SUTURING & LEGACY
You cannot recover Lost stones. They are gone.
Instead, during a Requiem (the game's downtime), you may Suture the Shatter itself: spend a session weaving a new truth into the firmament. This creates a Legacy—a permanent, world-level asset that benefits all Anchors. "We Suture the River's memory into the stones of the valley; now, springs appear where we need them."
The cost: Each Suture creates a Paradox—a new red stone permanently added to the Guide's starting Dissonance for every Shiver. You make the world more stable for you, but stranger and more hostile. The Shatter begins to obey your memories more than the dead world’s—until it is yours, and you are responsible for its contradictions.
Endgame: A character with zero stones in any Pillar cannot Anchor. They Dissolve, becoming part of the Void-That-Sings. Their player narrates their final memory as it unwrites itself, and then they help the Guide, taking control of Dissonance in future Shivers.
The game ends when the Shatter has too many Unraveled features to sustain life, or when all Anchors Die. The final act is a communal Shiver with all stones on the cloth—every Anchor, every Dissonance. The survivors tell the epilogue, knowing the Void now sings their tune.
CHAPTER FIVE: EXAMPLE OF PLAY
LUCE (Anchor): "I will climb the Crumbling Ledger to read the name of the first rain, so I can re-summon it."
TABLE (Cant): "I will climb the Crumbling Ledger to read the name of the first rain, so I can re-summon it."
LUCE: Places Memory (recalling the path), Will (endurance), Shadow (reckless obsession).
GUIDE: Adds 3 Dissonance: height, Void-song, the Ledger's guardian-ghost.
THE SHIVER: Five seconds. The cloth shudders. The Cant whispers.
THE REVEAL: Memory & Shadow fall. Will remains, Frayed.
GUIDE: "You reach the top, gasping, but the ghost's shriek has hollowed out your mentor's face in your mind. Who were they? (Memory Fracture). Your crew sees you risk everything for old water—they know you're unraveling. (Shadow Fracture: gain Secret 'Luce values memory over people.')"
LUCE: "I read the name. It's 'Sorrow-That-Quenches.' That... complicates things."
ESSENCE: WHY THIS HAS BITE
There is no safety. No leveling up. No probability to master. Only deliberate sacrifice. You don’t roll dice—you perform your character’s erosion. The physical stones make loss tangible. The cloth is your grave-shroud. The Void doesn’t cheat; it just waits for you to shake yourself apart.
The heft is in the permanence. The bite is that success costs. Every Shiver is a little death. The world you save becomes the world that will eventually forget you.
Welcome to the Shivering Verse. Hold tightly. Let go wisely.