The living RPG

Before No devil lived oN became a manga, it was a roleplaying campaign — one that ran for years and still isn’t finished. Dino began as Dungeon Master in 2012, and the campaign carried on until 2020, with a break after. Even now, the story is not complete, because we are still living it through play. But the world itself is more than finished enough to stand on its own. If adapted as a published RPG, it already holds enough content for countless campaigns — from shorter arcs lasting a few weeks to long sagas stretching over years. It is a living world, designed to grow with every group that enters it.

Dino’s style as DM is what made the campaign unforgettable. Known for being playful, sharp, and endlessly resourceful, he turned every session into an experience that tested wit, creativity, and teamwork. His sessions often felt more like elaborate escape rooms than traditional combat-driven games. A locked chest might require piecing together shredded paper, flipping it over, and deciphering a hidden code. Symbols in a hand-drawn map could hold secrets only revealed if players remembered to connect them hours, weeks, or even months later. Riddles and puzzles were woven everywhere — some solved quickly, others taking five or more hours to unravel. Fighting monsters was never the point; discovering meaning, solving mysteries, and outsmarting the world itself was the true challenge.

The characters were as diverse as the puzzles. Each personality was carefully thought through, layered, and real. A lawful-good hero could break under pressure. A selfish rogue could grow unexpectedly fond of someone else. Over time, characters evolved with nuance, ego, and fragility — mirroring the complexities of human nature.

The world itself was vast. On the tabletop, distances were measured square by square, keeping exploration grounded. But time travel expanded the scope dramatically. A citadel could be saved in one timeline, burned in another, or ruled by an old ally turned stranger in the future. The manga and anime expand the world even larger — broader than Earth itself — but the campaign laid its foundation, a world that shifted and grew with every decision.

Unlike many tabletop campaigns, this was not built on Dungeons & Dragons. Dino created his own ruleset, tested and refined over years of play. It struck a rare balance: structured enough to give order, free enough to allow true roaming. That freedom made the game endlessly replayable. No two campaigns would unfold the same way. The dice, the choices, the timelines — each shifted the outcome in unpredictable ways.

For Dino, this was his laboratory for storytelling. For us, it was the best time of our lives. Those game nights forged friendships, shaped memories, and became a bond we still talk about today. Even now, we still call each other by our character names.

The campaign also proved how expandable the universe really is. With more than 40 arcs already mapped and countless NPCs carrying hidden significance, it was easy for new players to join — whether as one-night guests stepping into a bard or shopkeeper, or as permanent characters who grew into central roles. Nothing was meaningless; everything had purpose.

Looking ahead, the roleplaying game is not only the origin of the manga but also a product waiting to happen. With its unique system, extensive lore, and puzzle-like style, it could be released as a standalone RPG with modules lasting anywhere from two weeks to two years. It could also thrive as a live-play series, a darker, nerdier counterpart to Critical Role, with hundreds of ready-made characters and endless arcs waiting to be explored.

The campaign showed us how far this universe could go. It’s a world tested through years of play, fine-tuned through puzzles and choices, and still full of possibilities. The next step is to share it beyond our table, and let others experience it for themselves.