In the darkness of a world gone silent, four players gather around flickering candles to tell a story they know will end in death.
The lights went out ten days ago. Five days later, they came. And tonight, around a table lit only by candlelight, we’re witnessing something remarkable: a roleplaying game where every character’s death is not just possible, but guaranteed. Welcome to Ten Candles, a revolutionary tabletop RPG that transforms the traditional gaming experience into something far more haunting and profound.
The Architecture of Doom
Ten Candles operates on a deceptively simple premise. Players create characters knowing they will die by the session’s end. This isn’t a spoiler or a possibility—it’s the fundamental promise of the game. As game master Martin explains to his three players—Sterling, Daniel, and Jenny—this knowledge transforms the entire experience from a game about surviving to one about how we face inevitable doom.
The mechanics are elegant in their simplicity. Ten candles burn at the table, each representing a pool of dice. When conflicts arise, players roll these dice, needing sixes to succeed. Failed rolls darken candles, reducing the dice pool and bringing characters closer to their fate. The genius lies in how this mechanical countdown creates mounting tension that’s both mathematical and deeply emotional.
Character Creation as Prophecy
The character creation process in Ten Candles is unlike anything in traditional RPGs. Players don’t just build heroes; they architect tragedies. Each character receives four defining aspects: a virtue, a vice, a moment of hope, and a brink—the terrible thing they’re capable of when pushed to their limits.
I will find hope when I feel like I made a real difference
The twist? Players don’t create their own complete characters. Virtues and vices are passed between players, creating interconnected destinies. One player writes what they’ve seen another do at their worst—their brink. This collaborative approach means everyone at the table becomes both author and witness to the unfolding tragedy.
The Last Boat: A Module of Desperate Escape
The session follows “The Last Boat” module, set on a resort island turned nightmare. Blood-soaked beaches, abandoned hotels, and the promise of a boat at the island’s northern tip drive our three survivors forward: Sabrina Smith, a frail but charismatic college graduate; Casey Hart, a creative but regretful rock guitarist; and Jared Stone, a caring daredevil adventurer.
The world-building emerges organically through play. “Them”—the mysterious force that arrived when the lights went out—remains intentionally undefined at first. Through player choices and failed rolls, they evolve from shadowy threats to something far more horrifying: parasitic creatures that transform their victims into monstrous hybrids.
Mechanical Poetry in Motion
What makes Ten Candles extraordinary is how its mechanics serve its themes. Burning trait cards for rerolls isn’t just a game mechanic—it’s literally watching parts of your character disappear in flame. The “establishing truths” phase between scenes lets players shape the narrative even as they inch toward doom, creating moments of agency within inevitability.
The tape recorder element adds another layer of poignancy. Before play begins, each player records a final message as their character. These recordings, played back after everyone dies, transform from hopeful farewells to haunting epitaphs.
The Tragedy Unfolds
As the game progresses, the failures mount. Sabrina’s frailty leaves her poisoned and dying. Jared’s discovery of transportation comes too late. Casey’s desperate attempt to signal a passing ship becomes a final act of sacrifice. Each death is both mechanically determined and narratively earned, creating moments of genuine tragedy rather than arbitrary elimination.
The lighthouse sequence exemplifies the game’s power. A mutated guardian blocks their path to salvation. Sabrina dies trying to breach the door. Jared falls to the creature’s claw. Casey, infected and knowing his fate, manages one last heroic act—turning on the lighthouse before plummeting to his death, ensuring the ship might save others even if not themselves.
Key Takeaways
• Ten Candles proves that knowing the ending doesn’t diminish the journey—it transforms it into something more meaningful • The collaborative character creation creates investment before play even begins • Mechanical simplicity (roll dice, need sixes) keeps focus on narrative rather than rules • The physical act of burning character sheets and darkening candles creates visceral, memorable moments • “Establishing truths” gives players narrative control even as they lose mechanical power • The game works because it’s about how characters die, not if they die
Why This Matters
Ten Candles represents a evolution in RPG design, proving that constraints can create more powerful experiences than unlimited possibilities. By removing the question of survival, it forces players to confront deeper questions: What do we do when hope is futile? How do we face the inevitable? What matters in our final moments?
The game doesn’t just tell horror stories—it creates them through play, transforming players from participants to co-authors of tragedy. Every mechanical choice reinforces the themes of diminishing hope and approaching darkness, creating an experience that lingers long after the last candle is extinguished.
These things are true: The world is dark. And we are alive.
Until we aren’t.
Related Topics
• Tragic horror RPG systems • Collaborative storytelling games • One-shot RPG experiences • Dread and other elimination RPGs • Narrative-focused game design • Module-based RPG systems • Horror atmosphere in tabletop gaming • Character death in roleplaying games