Rolling the Dice on Research: My Journey Through Role-Play and Research

Introduction

When I first applied to the Laidlaw Scholarship, I had no idea just how much it would change me. The application pushed me to reflect deeply on who I was and what I wanted to achieve, and my confidence began to grow from that very moment. Since then, the welcome meetings, global introduction to the scholars network, and two residentials have been both inspiring and challenging. I have found myself surrounded by passionate, motivated peers and have been encouraged to step out of my comfort zone by them.

My research project — exploring the role of tabletop role-playing games (TTRPGs) like Dungeons & Dragons for neurodiverse players — has been the most eye-opening part of this journey so far. Coming from a chemistry background, I was nervous about stepping into a totally different style of research. The first stages of the project were daunting but I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it, and even more by how quickly I grew. I was moved by the stories shared in interviews, challenged by the responsibility of capturing them with care, and encouraged by the warmth and patience of the community I observed.

The wider programme has taught me that leadership isn’t about authority, but about empathy, adaptability, and the courage to step forward even when you feel uncertain. Already I can feel myself becoming braver, more open, and more confident as both a researcher and a person. This essay reflects upon my personal growth through this stage of my Laidlaw adventure: the findings of my research, the challenges I faced and overcame, and the ways I plan to move forward in sharing my work.

Research Conducted

Choosing this project felt almost inevitable. Having loved role-playing since childhood, when my father first introduced me not only to board games but also to live-action role play (LARP). Some of my earliest memories are of running around at the age of five with foam swords, in a Celtic warrior costume, fully immersed in imaginary worlds. These games became a cornerstone of my bond with my father and gave me a lasting love for role-play in all its forms. When this Laidlaw project was released it immediately leapt out at me. Expressing interest was a no-brainer, and every family member I told agreed it felt perfectly tailored to me.

As a chemistry student, it also offered the chance to push beyond my usual subject. Ethnographic and qualitative research was something I had never encountered before, and while it felt daunting, it also felt exciting. I wanted to prove I could adapt, learn, and contribute in new territory. Another personal motivator was my father himself. In 2020, after he suffered a stroke, his determination during recovery inspired me to work as a support worker with neurodiverse and disabled children. Many were non-verbal autistic, and though this role was different from research, it gave me confidence in how to approach conversations with neurodivergent people. I learned to listen more deeply, to be patient, and to connect with empathy. Skills that would prove invaluable when immersing myself in this project.

My supervisors’ vision was ambitious: to cast the net wide and explore the big picture, using interviews and observation to identify the most fruitful areas for future research. When it was suggested I could join the games as both a player and observer, I leapt at the chance. Sitting silently on the sidelines might have felt intrusive, whereas playing alongside others made integration natural and aligned perfectly with an ethnographic approach. Although this decision felt natural and exciting, it would also be a challenge as it meant simultaneously taking on two roles.  Both of which were unfamiliar, as this would be my first time playing D&D, as well as my first time observing an ethnographic research study. I reminded myself that the greatest growth often happens in uncomfortable places. That choice to throw myself fully into both roles shaped the entire adventure that followed.

The preparation stage also stretched me in new directions. I spent hours reading papers from psychology and education, working through unfamiliar terminology and methods. At first it was daunting, but soon I was hooked. One paper on a summer camp that used LARP, D&D, and board games, struck me particularly. I could picture the camp vividly, and it stirred memories of games with my dad. It reminded me why these games mattered to me personally, and it reinforced my excitement about researching their importance for others.

Overcoming Early Hurdles

This adventure was not without its obstacles. After an initial visit to Up A Level in York, a date and Dungeon Master (DM) had been agreed. The role of the DM was central, they were the one who sets the scene, plays the non-player characters, and facilitates the story. Yet on the very day of the first session, disaster struck: the DM pulled out.

I felt enormous pressure not to waste the opportunity. With the help of the venue owners, I organised an impromptu Q&A session. It was nerve-wracking at first as the unknown had suddenly shifted into something I hadn’t prepared for. But as the evening unfolded, my nerves eased. Participants were curious and welcoming, and formal discussions about the study soon became relaxed conversations about favourite games and past experiences. By the end of the night, I felt less like a stranger and more like part of the community. One of the players even helped me put the finishing touches to my character, the half-orc cleric Grondar Stillblade.

Walking home, I realised this was a turning point. I wasn’t just entering a community as a researcher but starting to become part of it. It was a moment I couldn’t wait to share with my dad, knowing how proud he would be.

Anticipation and First Impressions

Even after the reassurance of the Q&A session, the first game still offered an unknown challenge. This would be both my first time playing Dungeons & Dragons and my first time observing for research. Yet again my nerves melted quickly. The DM, who had volunteered after the Q&A, and the players were eager to help me learn. They explained rules with patience — often more than once — and encouraged me every step. Within ten minutes, my fear of “doing it wrong” had disappeared.

My approach had been shaped by YouTube observations I watched beforehand. I decided that collaboration would be my guiding principle: to lean into roleplay, contribute to the jokes, and never dominate others’ enjoyment. That’s why I created Grondar Stillblade, a half-orc cleric with a strong moral code — a voice in group decisions, but not one to overshadow the table.

Discovering the Culture Around the Table

What struck me most was that the game was as much about community as it was about dice and rules. My observation schedule included body language and group dynamics, yet the pages quickly filled with signs of joy including; laughter, jokes, and song references that echoed around the table. These weren’t distractions from the game, they were part of it. Humour and playfulness were woven into the culture, keeping everyone relaxed and engaged. Four hours would fly by in what felt like a blink, leaving me with four sides of A4 notes and the realisation that time had vanished because of how much fun we had.

The inclusivity of the group stood out. A mother who had only started playing this year with her son laughed and played alongside players who had been rolling dice since their school days. Every experience level, personality, and style of play was accepted and celebrated. Some leaned into accents and theatrical flourishes, while others spoke only occasionally, adding their ideas when it felt right. Far from leaving me on the fringes, the group made me feel part of it, part of the friendship circle, part of the party.

That belonging helped me understand and related to the wellbeing benefits that came through so strongly in interviews. The laughter, the shared creativity, and the way people with completely different approaches blended seamlessly together showed me why participants spoke so warmly about the game’s impact. Even the DM reinforced this culture. When a player attempted something outrageous, he didn’t shut it down but leaned into the absurdity, embodying the NPC with a dry, witty reply that had us all in stitches. These moments confirmed what I was beginning to see clearly: the real magic of D&D is not in its rules, but in the connections it fosters.

Insights from the Interviews

The interviews I conducted were semi-structured, designed collaboratively to reflect the interests of all three supervisors, namely; character creation, imaginary companions, communication styles, and the wider impact of role-play. This format gave participants freedom to speak openly, while still guiding discussion toward key themes.

The sense of community I felt at the table echoed powerfully in the interviews. Every participant spoke of D&D as a positive force in their lives. Some put it simply: “Lots of laughs with your companions… it’s good for the mental health.” Another shared: “It is a rare opportunity to be social, and I am lonely. So, it is only positive.” These short reflections captured the very feelings I had already experienced, that the game was more than play, it was connection.

What stood out most, however, were the detailed accounts of why the game feels so safe. One participant explained:

“D&D or other tabletop games… is a safe space for expression no matter what because it’s storytelling. Because you can have drama and stuff and then you can put it down and go away… in real life it can often… there can often be real life consequences to that drama, whereas the consequences in D&D is just in D&D. And if it’s too much, you can put it away and you can take a break… because of that safety, it’s a place where you can really look at these emotions and go, ‘Right, this is what I can learn from them.’”

Hearing this took me back to my childhood obsession with LARPing. For me, those weekends weren’t just fun but also a retreat, a place where real-world anxieties couldn’t follow. Experiencing D&D first-hand as both player and observer, I felt that same sense of safety. For neurodiverse players especially, that security is invaluable. Many already face higher social anxieties in daily life, so having a space where risks are contained within a story is deeply powerful.

Another participant reflected on how role-playing can even help process real struggles: “…sometimes we create these D&D characters as a way to process our real-life issues… which could also apply to imaginary friends as well.” They also drew a distinction between imaginary companions and role-play characters, noting: “With an imaginary friend… you’re projecting onto something else. Whereas if you’re role-playing, that becomes… you’re taking on that personality yourself.”

These reflections resonated with me both personally and academically. Personally, because I recognised my own retreat into imaginary worlds in their words. Academically, because they connected directly to my supervisors’ research interests in communication, imaginary companions, and language in play. Across all interviews, the message was clear: TTRPGs are more than games, they are safe, creative spaces where people can connect and belong.

Impact and Importance of Research

The therapeutic value of role-playing games is already being recognised. This came through vividly in my interview with a teacher and volunteer at Game Therapy UK, who described them as “a really powerful tool for structuring and social skills.” He explained how, in his experience, these games help children “find a voice, even if it’s behind this mask of a character… as long as they’re engaged and everyone’s had a chance to shine.” For young people who struggle in mainstream education, role-play gave them something different: confidence, creativity, and a place to be heard.

The impact stretched beyond the table. The same teacher described how students who had stopped attending school began returning, purely because of their involvement in these sessions: “It worked so well that students started attending school when they weren’t before… we recognised there’s a therapeutic aspect to this.”

For me, this made the importance of research in this area undeniable. Game Therapy UK’s interest in publishing these findings underlines its relevance, as does the planned larger, funded study that will follow this pilot. Together, these efforts will deepen our understanding of the therapeutic potential of TTRPGs, raise awareness of their value, and hopefully expand their availability to the neurodiverse communities who stand to benefit most.

Personal Impact of the Project

This project has transformed my view of TTRPGs. For most of my life, I saw them as fun, a way to relax, escape, and feel safe. Now, I see they are far more: they can build communities, create belonging, and even provide life-changing therapeutic benefits. For someone as deeply attached to this world as I am, seeing it recognised in this way means a great deal.

I’ve also gained a whole new perspective on research. Coming from a chemistry background, stepping into qualitative methods was daunting, but it has shown me the value of empathy, listening, and narrative as research tools. Beyond methods, what I take away most is an appreciation for how much these communities mean to people. Being welcomed in, observing, listening, and learning has shaped not only my research skills but my outlook on life.

Personal Development through the Programme

None of this would have been possible without the broader personal growth the Laidlaw Scholarship has given me. Even the application process was a turning point, building my confidence in interviews and presentations, skills that carried me into applying successfully for a year in industry placement, which I have recently started.

The programme has introduced me to a global network of scholars and inspired me through older scholars’ stories of their own adventures. The residentials at Weetwood and Selside were defining moments: action-packed, nerve-wracking, and transformative. From team challenges to crawling through caves, they pushed me far out of my comfort zone and taught me to see risk as opportunity. Looking back, I can see how those moments prepared me for this project, building the courage to step into a new world and embrace the unknown.

When I step back, the Laidlaw Programme feels like one continuous adventure. Each stage has pushed me further, each preparing me for the next. I feel privileged to have had these opportunities, and I know I will carry their lessons with me into whatever challenges come next.

Conclusion

Looking back, I feel both proud and grateful. What began as a pilot study became something deeply personal and transformative. It revealed the true scope of TTRPGs: not just as escapes, as I had always known them, but as spaces of belonging, creativity, and therapeutic value. The laughter and inclusivity I saw at the table matched the voices in interviews, where participants described role-play as a safe place to connect, to grow, and even to process personal history. For neurodivergent players especially, that safety is priceless, and the project uncovered rich directions for further study. These ranged from character creation and imaginary companions, to group dynamics, to the wider benefits for wellbeing and community.

The importance of these findings is already evident, with Game Therapy UK expressing interest in publishing them. Furthermore I am eager to share this work more widely through conferences and further funded research. I am excited to see where this field can go and how many more lives it can touch.

On a personal level, the impact has been just as profound. The project challenged me to balance the roles of player and observer, to adapt, and to grow in empathy and confidence. Most meaningful of all, it has been something I could share with my dad. He loved hearing about the details of the games, reflecting on the same themes of safety and inclusion described by others, and telling me how proud he was of my involvement. In many ways, this research feels like a continuation of the joy and connection role-play brought us both, now enriched with a deeper understanding of its wider importance.

As I look ahead, I feel excited and prepared for wherever my adventure as a Laidlaw Scholar takes me next. From the residentials to this summer research project, the programme has shown me that real growth lies in stepping into the unknown. I leave this stage of the journey more resilient, more creative, and more confident in my ability to connect with others. Those lessons will stay with me, shaping not only my research but also my future career and in every aspect of my life.