Just Right: The Importance of Setting
How Much is "Too Much" and How Little is "Too Little?"
For some time now, I’ve been grappling with a design problem as I work on the second edition of Thousand Suns. I wrote the current, 2011 edition as a “generic” science fiction roleplaying. Rather than include a fully realized setting, Thousand Suns instead offers a “meta-setting,” a handful of large-scale elements broad enough to be customized by individual Game Masters for their own campaigns. The idea was to maximize flexibility: provide a loose scaffolding rather than a complete blueprint, allowing every group to shape the game to resemble the kind of imperial science fiction they prefer. As I saw things, this approach should have made Thousand Suns easier to adopt and more flexible to use.
However, the more I work on the second edition, the more I find myself questioning the wisdom of that choice. Several fans and fellow designers, people whose opinions I take seriously, have voiced a recurring concern: that the very thing I considered a strength may, in fact, be an impediment to the game’s success. Without a strong, distinctive setting “hook,” Thousand Suns risks blending into the already-crowded field of generic SF RPGs. For many potential players and GMs, a clear identity is not optional; it is what signals whether a game is worth their time. Mechanics can win people over once they start playing, but a memorable setting is what gets them to pick up the book in the first place. The question is not simply “Is this a flexible SF RPG?” but rather “Why this one?”
This critique has led me to think more broadly about how roleplaying games communicate their purpose. Some games thrive precisely because they arrive fully formed, with a setting that immediately conveys tone, theme, and trajectory. They provide a clear imaginative starting point, leaving the GM to elaborate rather than invent from whole cloth. In this model, the setting lowers the creative investment required to begin play. It gives newcomers a sense of what the game feels like before they ever learn the rules.
By contrast, a flexible framework, however elegant, can feel abstract. It demands an initial act of interpretation or creation from the Game Master and, while many experienced GMs relish that freedom, not everyone does. For some, the absence of defined detail becomes a void rather than an invitation. Even those who enjoy customizing settings often prefer to start with a concrete vision that they can then reshape rather than being handed a blank canvas disguised as a star map.
At the same time, I remain committed to the virtues of the meta-setting approach. I don’t want Thousand Suns to become so specific that it leaves no room for a GM’s own ideas. The open space is part of the game’s “DNA,” if you will; it’s the element that allows it to evoke not just one flavor of science fiction but the broad spectrum of “imperial SF” that inspired it. Narrowing that too much would defeat the original purpose of the game and risk alienating those who value its flexibility.
The challenge, then, is to find the right balance. This is a design tension that has no simple solution. Thousand Suns needs enough identity to stand out, to give people a sense of what makes its take on imperial science fiction distinct. At the same time, it must preserve the creative latitude that I see as its hallmark. What does that balance look like in practice? Should the second edition include a more detailed “default” setting, even if presented as optional? Would sharpening the themes and assumptions of the meta-setting provide the necessary hook without constraining Game Masters? How much definition is enough to guide without dictating?
These are the questions I am wrestling with as I plan the new edition. A roleplaying game without a strong setting can succeed, but it must compensate with something else, whether it’s clarity of tone, a compelling structure, or a conceptual anchor that sparks the imagination. My goal is to identify what that anchor should be for Thousand Suns and how best to present it. The second edition offers me an opportunity to refine the game’s voice, make its implied universe more legible, and provide newcomers with a clearer path into its vision of far-future adventure.
I have not yet arrived at a final answer, but I am increasingly convinced that the solution lies somewhere between the poles: a core vision that gives the game a recognizable identity, paired with the flexibility that has always been central to its design. The work ahead is finding where that line ought to be drawn, as well as ensuring that, wherever it lands, Thousand Suns remains both approachable and expansive, a game that invites its players to make the stars their own.
You raise an interesting dilemma. GMs will always tinker with a setting, but you're right that a purely generic setting isn't often enticing enough. Often like the daunting prospect of writing when all you start with is a blank page.
I see two paths that have been used well: tools and many settings.
Stars without Number goes the tools route. It has a default meta setting but keeps it loose enough that it can be riffed off, built on or ignored as you see fit. It's super power is it's many useful tools for creating your own setting. These are so useful people consider them a go to resource even if they don't use the rest of the rulebooks.
Many Settings is what you see in Fate, ICRPG, Mini Six, Tiny d6, Dramasystem and many others. You create the rule set and provide a variety of brief settings using it so GMs can see it in action, and have something to develop. The popular ones or your own preferred one you can develop further while still maintaining the independent rule set.
You already set out doing a combination of these with the first edition when you started producing things like the Transmissions from Piper supplement.
It sounds like all you need to do is just be clear in your own mind about how much of each you intend to do. Do too little of either approach and they won't be deep enough to be useful. Too much of either and you'll burn out.
Maybe instead of SWN tables you could provide multiple options for how a specific setting element can be interpreted and used, such as Ironsworn/Starforged Truths.
Then, rather than dedicated supplements for each settings, you can provide several in broad brushstrokes. Enough for GMs to find useful, but which won't require the work of an entire supplement.