Council is built on words and choices, not dice rolls and luck. You already know homebrewed D&D — where the GM makes rulings and the players navigate the consequences. Council takes that idea further: your decisions are permanent records, and the game remembers what you choose.
| D&D Homebrews | Council |
|---|---|
| You roll dice. Nat 20 = awesome, Nat 1 = bad luck. | No dice at all. You choose your path, live with the consequences. |
| Ad hoc decisions. GM rules in the moment, can change between sessions. | On the record. Every vote, every choice, gets written down and remembered. |
| Your character is isolated. You vs. the world; you die, you roll a new one. | You're part of a Council. Your decisions affect everyone; you're building something together. |
| Fast, loose, fun. Things can be retconned; GM decides on the fly. | Deliberate & binding. Once you vote, it's canon; the game holds you to your word. |
Bottom line: D&D is about heroes on a quest. Council is about a Council making decisions that stick.
Council of Un is a Stargate Atlantis–inspired game where you're not a crew of adventurers — you're a government.
Everyone else advises. Heads of departments report to Un — they give counsel, they have opinions, but Un votes, and Un's vote is what matters. You're not a lone hero. You're part of a machine. Your decisions have weight because they're official.
You're going to play Omar, who is waking up in the water with a broken memory. Omar was a key member of the crew — he made a decision (threw a grenade) that changed the course of the story. Then something happened, involving ascension, the water, and forces bigger than the Council. Now he's back, but he doesn't remember anything after the grenade. His godfather, Landis (the previous leader, now retired to a ship), finds him and brings him back to Atlantis.
Unlike a typical D&D character, Omar doesn't drop into a quest. He drops into a political situation. Your penchant for chaos works great here — but it'll have consequences. If Omar decides to betray the Council, that's recorded. If Omar steals resources, the ledger notices. If Omar helps an enemy, that's permanent political ammunition against him later.
You love playing chaotic or evil characters — the ones who cause trouble, betray the party, steal stuff. Council doesn't stop you. But here's the catch:
This is actually better for chaos, not worse — the chaos has real weight. Play your chaos. Do evil things. But understand: the Council will remember, and you'll have to live with the political fallout.
Q: Do I need to read a bunch of rules before tonight?
A: No. Just show up. Landis will hand you Omar, Landis will give Cinco his letter, and you'll figure it out from there. The Keeper handles the mechanics.
Q: What if I don't know what to do?
A: Ask. The Keeper will ask you: “What do you do?” If you don't know, say so. That's a scene. Roll with it.
Q: Can I kill someone / betray the Council / break things?
A: Yes. But it will be written down. The Council will react. You can't undo it. Is that still fun? If yes, do it.
Q: What's the goal?
A: There is no “winning.” You're building a story about a Council making hard decisions. The fun is seeing how they play out.
You've been gone. You're coming back with most of it missing — that's the point, and it's yours to play. Here is the little you carry, and nothing more.
You get a fresh start most characters never get. No one's holding your past against you. Whatever Omar was, you get to decide who he is now, from the water up.