The impact of AI and tools like ChatGPT on RPG storytelling

AI has barged into tabletop RPGs faster than a rogue spotting an unlocked chest. For some tables it’s a handy sidekick, for others it feels like an uninvited guest trying to nick the game master’s chair. Tools like ChatGPT can spin up NPCs, plot hooks and whole regions in seconds, but they can also sand down the rough edges that make storytelling at the table feel alive: the chaos, the daft decisions, the human timing. And yes — we at Geeknson had our own heated debate over whether AI is a helpful familiar or a chaotic neutral intruder trying to join the party without rolling stats. So before we let an algorithm sit in on our next session, it’s worth asking what it really does to RPG role play — and why the results aren’t always as magical as the pitch.

When AI joins the table: new tricks, new traps

AI tends to show up in RPGs like a new player who swears they’ll “just help with notes” and suddenly wants to co-write the campaign bible. Sure, it can whip up a town, three plot hooks and a shady merchant faster than you can say roll initiative. But it also has a habit of making everything sound like a pre-written module — tidy, polished, and suspiciously similar no matter the setting.

RPGs thrive on messy storytelling, wild pivots and players doing things no sensible storytelling system would ever predict. An algorithm can provide inspiration, but it has no idea what to do when the party decides to interrogate a scarecrow or form a union among dungeon monsters. We’ve seen this ourselves at Geeknson — someone fed an AI a basic town prompt and somehow every tavern ended up with “a mysterious aura and a secretive barkeep”. Not wrong… just hilariously copy-pasted.

So yes, AI can help. But much like giving a wizard explosives, the question isn’t “can it?”, it’s “should it?”.

A game master with “sixth sense” or a GM running on autopilot?

AI can feel like a cheat code for a busy game master. Need an NPC on the fly? Boom — name, attitude, tragic backstory included. Need a description of a ruin the party definitely wasn’t supposed to explore? Done. It’s tempting to let the algorithm sit on your shoulder like a digital familiar whispering suggestions.

But a table doesn’t run on tidy logic or neat game mechanics. It runs on chaos, instinct and whatever the bard decides to do after taking “just a small sip” from the cursed bottle. If the GM starts leaning too heavily on AI, the session slowly shifts into algorithm-approved storytelling — clean, tidy, and strangely lifeless.

We found this out the funny way  — one of our team GMs tried using AI mid-session to improvise NPC dialogue, but the moment the bard started flirting with a mimic, the model absolutely short-circuited. Turns out no algorithm is ready for the sheer nonsense of a real party’s decisions.

AI can absolutely assist. But if it starts steering instead of supporting, the session loses that spark only a human GM can create.

AI-generated characters – genuine depth or beautifully packaged sameness

AI is fantastic at jump-starting character ideas — motives, flaws, dramatic childhood trauma, the whole package. But after a while, you start noticing a pattern: everyone suddenly has a tragic past, a shadowy mentor and a quest for redemption. That’s the “algorithmic origin story” effect.

What AI does well:

• gives you a clean personality outline in seconds,
  
  
• offers quick emotional hooks for storytelling,
  
  
• helps players break through creative block,
  
  
• suggests roles that fit neatly into the party structure.
  
  

What AI consistently struggles with:

• the weird human quirks that fuel memorable role play,
  
  
• those tiny details only a player can invent (like a barbarian obsessed with spoons),
  
  
• capturing the chaotic energy of a table full of people winging it,
  
  
• creating characters who feel unique rather than “AI-approved”.
  
  

Used right, AI is a great launcher — but players still need to add the flaws, oddities and deranged personal choices that earn real experience points in character depth.

Improvisation vs the algorithm – where spontaneity takes the lead

Improvisation is the soul of tabletop RPGs. A calm tavern scene can explode into a full-blown political revolt because someone rolled a natural 20 on convincing the innkeeper to unionise. No storytelling system — no matter how refined — can predict that sort of table chaos. And we’ve seen it firsthand at Geeknson: during one of our lunchtime sessions, the party accidentally founded a workers’ guild in a bakery. The AI froze harder than a low-level wizard in front of a dragon.

Where AI tends to fall short:

• it pushes neat, predictable outcomes,
  
  
• nudges players toward “optimal logic”,
  
  
• smooths out the gloriously stupid choices that make sessions legendary,
  
  
• can’t react to four players shouting different plans at once.
  
  

Where humans always win:

• brilliant, panic-driven improvisation,
  
  
• spontaneous group chaos (“WAIT, I HAVE AN IDEA!” x4),
  
  
• character-led madness that breaks the script,
  
  
• creating moments no algorithm would dare propose.
  
  

AI can hand you options. But good storytelling often comes from ignoring them entirely and diving face-first into the chaos the table creates.

AI as a worldbuilder – wide-open sandbox, but is it truly alive?

AI can build a world frighteningly fast. Hand it a few prompts and you get kingdoms, factions, legends, a detailed map and three cults with suspiciously dramatic robes. It feels like having your own pocket rpg maker, ready to churn out settings on demand.

But here’s the catch: AI-built worlds tend to be correct. Polished. Sensible. They run on internal logic — not on the beautifully deranged energy of real players poking holes in everything. A world generated by an algorithm is easy to explore, but harder to break, and breaking worlds is half the fun.

A truly living sandbox grows through player action: the wizard accidentally becomes mayor, the paladin starts a cheese cult, the rogue befriends the dungeon’s mimic instead of stabbing it. AI can’t foresee this, because it plans for probability, not chaos. And in tabletop RPGs, chaos is practically a currency.

AI is a great assistant to a game master, but the table is what breathes life into a setting. Without human nonsense, it’s just a tidy draft pretending to be a world.

The future of RPG storytelling – partnership or a fight for the soul of the table?

AI isn’t disappearing. It’ll keep helping sketch characters, speed up prep and offer prompts when inspiration runs dry. But it will never replace the spark that happens when real humans sit around a table, roll badly, argue loudly and steer the story into places no algorithm would dare predict. And trust us — we’ve tested AI behind the scenes. It’s helpful, clever even, but nothing compares to the energy in the room when someone slams a d20 on one of our tables and everything suddenly changes.

The future looks less like “AI taking over the table” and more like “AI staying politely in the backpack until someone needs it”. A tool, not a storyteller. A sidekick, not the hero. The kind of magical item that gives +1 to prep time but absolutely no bonus when the plan catastrophically falls apart during live role play.

Nothing replaces the collective imagination of players determined to bend the world to their will. No AI can replicate the laughter after a disastrous roll, the chaos of a bad idea executed brilliantly or the human instinct to challenge the game mechanics just to see what happens. The story belongs to the table — always has, always will.