I Played Mothership RPG Just to Feel SOMETHING!
In Mothership RPG, much like the endless expanse of space, everything is trying to kill you. Starvation’s always just around the corner, but that’s a slow, easy death. It’s far more likely you’ll end up choking on your own breath as your oxygen meter flashes in red… WARNING… WARNING— But let’s be real: it’ll probably be the cold. The slow, unrelenting heat death of everything. In Mothership RPG, it’s not if you’ll die, but how.
Hi, I’m Scutifer Mike, and today, we’re diving into why Mothership RPG is a sci-fi horror masterpiece. Stick around as we explore how its brutal system creates horror and mystery at your table, and what you can do as a Warden to make it even more terrifying for your players.
Mothership RPG captures the feeling that you are the alien in space. It’s not your home, and you’ve got no business exploring its endlessness. But the Company does. This mega-corporation wants resources, weird extraterrestrial specimens, and test subjects for their experimental tech. For that, they hand you a vacc suit, a submachine gun, and enough hazard pay to maybe upgrade your cybermods with their latest patch.
I’ve been running Mothership RPG for some of my YouTuber friends recently, and I’m blown away by how much the writers packed into this small box set. I haven’t always been trapped in its gravitational pull though. Mothership sat collecting dust on my bookshelf for ages, like so many other RPGs. But on a whim, I cracked it open, binged it over a weekend, and—no exaggeration—I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. What hooked me? It’s how Mothership throws you into a universe that doesn’t care if you live or die, and your only shot at survival is the crew you build. Each class in this game is a unique piece of that desperate puzzle, built to shine in the spotlight but suffer in the vacuum of space. Let’s dive into the classes and see what makes them tick.
• The Marine: The war machine. They know weaponry and get a bonus to combat rolls, plus they can take more hits than anyone else. But when the Marine panics, everyone nearby makes a Fear Save. If he’s freaking out, we’re all doomed! Game over, man!
• The Teamster: The crew’s fixer. With a tool belt and know-how, they tackle any problem, getting a bonus to all saves and stats. They’re cool under pressure, rolling one Panic Check per day with advantage. But we’ll get to Panic Checks soon.
• The Scientist: The giga-brained know-it-all. They study alien languages, advanced computers, and hyperspace, with a huge boost to Intelligence and Sanity Saves. But when they start losing it, everyone around them takes extra Stress. “You know what that thing is… right, Doc?”
• The Android: They look, walk, and talk like us, but they’re not us. Programmed to follow the Company’s ruthless orders, they get a massive boost to their Fear Save and don’t need food, water, or cryo-sleep. They wear haz-mat suits to blend in, but their cold, synthetic attitude forces “organics” to make Fear Saves at disadvantage.
As a Warden—that’s the game master—you need to give each class their moment at the table. Include an abandoned lab for the Scientist to analyze, broken tech only the Teamster can fix, or a deadly irradiated spacewalk only the Android can survive. This lets every player take center stage.
Combat in Mothership RPG is quick and unforgiving, and that’s perfect. If a battle drags on, the horror loses its edge. Whether it’s space pirates or a tentacled horror from the 5th dimension, don’t let it be boring. The outcome of combat should devastate the crew. Picture this: you’re pinned down by laser fire from security droids, the ship’s gravitronics fail, and you’ve got 30 seconds before the explosive charges you planted blow everyone out the airlock. I’m panicking just thinking about it!
And your players will, too, thanks to the Panic System. Every failed check or save adds Stress to their characters. Stats are low—rolled with 2d10+25—so failures are common. Critically fail by rolling doubles on a d100, and you make a Panic Check. If you can’t roll higher than your Stress score, you’re done—think nightmarish visions, heart attacks, or straight-up death. The system’s designed to destroy characters, and they’ll drag everyone else down like crabs in a bucket.
To nail the horror, talk to your players about leaning into the genre. Their characters will lose their grasp on reality, treated like fodder by the Company in unwinnable scenarios. That’s the fun! Be bold, take risks, and embrace Mothership’s high mortality rate.
Don’t shy away from jokes at the table either. Laughter breaks up tension and keeps things fresh without killing the mood. Put on creepy background music—the eerier, the better. This will help with the atmosphere.
Let the players find clues—an alien artifact, a cryptic data log, a strange chemical—and then debate what it means. Don’t explain everything. Space is unknowable, so keep it that way. Some mysteries will never be solved.
Take a bit of extra time to craft vivid descriptions of what the crew-members experience. Lower your voice, paint the scene: the ammonia stench of a sanitized med-bay, the metallic tang of an electromagnetic pulse, the rancid whiff of an alien slime. Make your players say “eww.”
As a Warden, fuel your creativity with sci-fi horror. I’m reading Out of the Shadows from the Alien franchise right now, but Starship Troopers and Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? are great starts. Movies like Event Horizon, Alien, and The Thing are basically Mothership in cinematic form. Let’s compile a Mothership Appendix N in the comment section below. What should I be reading for Sci-Fi horror inspiration?
Mothership RPG is a sci-fi horror rollercoaster that’ll leave your table excited for more. Have you played it? Drop your creepiest moments in the comments—I want to hear them! If you’re hungry for more cosmic terror, check out my latest video on Call of Cthulhu, where we dive into eldritch nightmares that make Mothership feel like a cozy nap. Hit subscribe for more tabletop chaos, and I’ll see you in the void!