Sex in Roleplaying games

This is a theme from my first post in this blog, covering how Baldur’s Gate 3’s success implies that D&D could use more sexual content.

My games have had a sexual theme from the very beginning. I was initially inspired by the cleric art in D&D (I found them strangely alluring at a pre-teen age), then the protagonist Alias in AD&D (even more so – all the way to a tattoo I have now), then Vampire The Masquerade (taking implied sex to questionable ethical territory), then Monsterhearts, which made things explicit (no longer just between the lines), and on to Thirsty Sword Lesbians, which put sex at center stage, driving the story.

Cover of Curse of the Azure Bonds, by Clyde Caldwell, 1988. It depicts the protagonist, Alias, a warrior woman with ample cleavage, covered by chainmail armor, split in the middle. She has a sword on her shoulder and a shield on her arm, and distinctly 80s blonde hair.  Her right arm has the titular azure tattoo. Behind her is a full moon, and a strange humanoid lizard in front of a tower.
Curse of the Azure Bonds, Clyde Caldwell, 1988. I had this on my wall as a kid along with a poster of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. I got the upper arm part of her tattoo, much later in my life.

I am about to run Bad Sex over the Christmas break. I am excited as well as quite understandably nervous and concerned about it.

But not in the sense of “having make believe sex with my players”.

I am excited because sex is a major part of the human condition, and one that games, roleplaying or otherwise, stay away from, for the most part.

Obviously, to be okay with featuring sex in your tabletop roleplaying games, you have to be very comfortable with your players. I am. I don’t play with anyone I’m not comfortable with. Does that extend to “do I feel like having sex with them?” No. But does it extend to “am I comfortable with talking about sex with them?” Yes.

It’s precious to be close enough with your players to talk about sex, and, through subtext, what it means to them. Though our society would imply otherwise, that’s not the same as wanting to have sex with them. Being curious and empathic enough to want to know how your players think and feel about sex is a lot, granted, but it’s also something I’m keen on exploring. Not all of my players are interested in this, but for the ones that are, I want to be there with them.

Roleplaying games allow you to explore things. The first time I really embraced this was when I played a racist werewolf. I had to think about what it feels like to be racist, and why and how someone would end up feeling that way. From there I ventured on to exploring hatred, and prejudice, and preference, and other, more nuanced things. As a result, I am a more empathic human being. I am not saying that I empathize with nazis. I don’t. But it’s healthy to understand where their worldview might come from, and roleplaying games have a unique capability to explore that in a safe way.

This opportunity granted by roleplaying games to explore foreign aspects to the human condition is rare in the world. While sex itself may seem frivolous and titillating, I think it’s an avenue more readily accessible than hate or prejudice, at least in the context of my entirely too embracing and supportive gaming group, and as an exercise in widening our human condition, making us better people, it’s absolutely worth it.

Sex makes us vulnerable. Sex makes us naked. I think that’s very powerful. Magical.


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