Hey, I'm Astro

I'm an aerospace engineer who translates what customers want into systems that actually work. I also happen to think Dungeons & Dragons might be one of the most important things we have left.

I Didn't Quit D&D Because of Burnout

A few years ago, my D&D table fell apart. Not dramatically. Just quietly, the way most tables do. People got busy. Scheduling got hard. Eventually, we stopped trying.

At first, I thought I missed the game. The stories, the epic battles, the creative problem-solving.

But that wasn't it.

What I actually missed was belonging to something. A group of friends who cared about the same things I did. A ritual we shared. A place where my presence mattered and my absence would be noticed.

I didn't just lose a game. I lost a community.

Modern Life Doesn't Know How to Solve Loneliness

When I moved to a new state for work, I tried to rebuild that sense of belonging. I downloaded every app promising connection: Timeleft, Meetup, 222, you name it.

I showed up to board game nights with strangers. Happy hours with people I'd never see again. Events designed to "bring people together."

And I felt lonelier than ever.

Because proximity isn't connection. Hanging out isn't belonging. You can be surrounded by people and still feel completely alone.

Modern socializing is broken. We've optimized for convenience and lost the depth. People meet up with no shared purpose, no emotional stakes, no reason to grow together. It's all surface.

D&D Solves the Problem We Pretend Doesn't Exist

Then I went back online and played D&D with my old friends, thousands of miles apart.

And suddenly, I felt like I belonged again.

Not because we were playing a game. Because D&D creates the conditions for real connection:

• Shared emotional stakes - we cared about the same story, the same outcomes
• Repeated rituals - we showed up for each other, week after week
• Real growth - our characters grew in the game, and we grew outside of it

D&D is a gamified way of building the kind of friendships adults are desperately missing. It gives us permission to care about something together. To be vulnerable in a fantasy setting. To invest in each other's growth.

It's one of the last remaining rituals where adults gather intentionally, share emotional experiences, and build identity through repeated practice.

But Most Tables Still Fall Apart

Here's the thing nobody talks about: even though D&D creates these conditions for belonging, most tables still collapse.

Not because the DM lacks creativity. Not because players are flaky. But because the system surrounding the game is brittle.

People say "we're playing D&D," but everyone means something different. Expectations stay implicit. The DM carries all the emotional burden. Misalignment kills meaning faster than lack of creativity ever could.

Burnout isn't a character flaw. It's a bug in the system.

And I realized: this is a problem I know how to solve.

Systems Engineering Taught Me That Relationships Aren't a Black Box

Most people treat relationships like magic. Something that either works or doesn't.

But systems engineering taught me that even the most complicated machinery can be broken down, as long as you know where the inputs and outputs go.

That includes human systems.

I'm a lead systems engineer who translates mission intent into mission design, I talk to customers about their dream outcomes, then work with engineering teams to build the systems that make it real. I've built tools that save teams countless hours.

Now I'm applying that same thinking to D&D tables.

Because tables that create belonging don't happen by accident. They happen by design.

That's Why I Started Astro Artificer

Astro Artificer is where I work through one question: How do you design D&D tables so good that players never want to leave?

Not tables that save prep time (though that matters). Not tables with better maps or deeper lore (though those are nice).

Tables where players feel like they belong. Where agency and alignment are designed in from the start. Where meaning is protected, not hoped for.

For professional DMs, this isn't just about running better games. It's about building a sustainable business. Because when you create tables this good, players stick around campaign after campaign. They tell their friends. They pay more because the experience is undeniable.

You stop chasing leads and start building something people fight to get into.

The Full Philosophy

If you want to go deeper into why I believe meaning keeps tables together, why AI should protect human creativity (not replace it), and why sustainability requires design, read the Astrofesto.

It's my attempt to understand why some tables feel alive and others quietly fall apart.

What I'm Building

Right now, I'm creating tools and systems that help DMs design for what actually matters: fit, agency, and alignment.

Eventually, I want to help professional DMs transform their entire practice, from unstable side hustle to sustainable business. But for now, I'm sharing everything I'm learning through my newsletter and essays.

I'm glad you're here.

Let's build tables that last.