If you’re familiar with My First Dungeon, you may have noticed that in most seasons I play characters with names that are typically non-Western: Jayamal, Sivali, Kumari, and, in Panic Table’s upcoming Dog Eat Dog season, Krishan (traditionally pronounced Kree-shh-Ahn but in Dog Eat Dog I use the pronunciation Kree-shh-Ayn because of a friend who grew up using that pronunciation). Lately, I found myself wondering why I feel so strongly about these choices.
Why do I find it important to name my characters after the aunties, uncles, cousins, friends, and other brown people I’ve encountered in my life? Why give them names I sometimes even struggle to pronounce myself? (I recently discovered I’ve even been mispronouncing my own name my entire life.) Why does this matter so much to me?
This level of agency is unprecedented for people like me in the arts. It lets us create nuanced portrayals, stories that can’t be questioned or taken away.
I’ve thought a lot about how tabletop role-playing games (TTRPGs) have helped me embrace my identity. I’ve reflected on their impact on my gender journey as a gender-fluid person, but I must also acknowledge how liberating it feels to play brown characters with complex, nuanced lives across the spectrum of their racial and cultural journeys.
As a non-white artist with a non-Western name, I find using names outside the typical Judeo-Christian tradition deeply significant. Name politics exist. Years ago, when I was pursuing a PhD in geography, I interned at a nonprofit working to support houseless children. I worked with a white woman who casually admitted she discarded resumes with “weird” names. When I asked her to elaborate, she said, “Oh, you know, names where you can tell they probably need a visa or something.” This happened in New York City, in an organization claiming to help people without homes.
That experience never left me. It taught me that, regardless of who I am, the first thing people see about me is my name. It’s their introduction to my identity, my politics, my immigration status, and even my worth as a human being. Until they know me, my name fills them with conscious and unconscious assumptions—some good, others bad—shaped by what the media tells them about people with names like mine.
I can’t control these assumptions, but I can help reshape the narrative. By creating media with names people may have never seen before, I hope to imbue those names with nuance and beauty—countering the dehumanizing tropes so common in Western media.
Why Is Control Important?
It hasn’t been long since diversity in media even became a concern. It’s only been about a decade since we collectively agreed that white actors shouldn’t voice non-white characters on TV and that non-white writers should be in the room when crafting stories about non-white characters. Historically, racism was the norm in entertainment, and power is difficult to displace.
Take, for example, Nickelodeon’s skepticism about Avatar: The Legend of Korra in 2012. They doubted that a show with a brown woman lead would resonate with audiences, so they greenlit only one season. That’s why Season 1 feels like a complete series. But when the first season succeeded, they ordered three more—though Season 2 was rushed due to lack of time given to the creators to put it out, resulting in a weaker follow-up which fans perceived as the fault of the writers/creators, but in reality the blame laid at the feat of Nickelodeon executives. Fans often cite Korra as being “worse” than Avatar: The Last Airbender, but this perception stems from the sexism, racism, and doubt from executives who undermined the show from the start.
How does this relate to names in Actual Play (AP)? AP allows players to write and craft their stories with near-complete creative control. As a player, you decide your character’s arc, personality, and, importantly, their name. This level of agency is unprecedented for people like me in the arts. It lets us create nuanced portrayals, stories that can’t be questioned or taken away. A character’s name becomes a gateway to the control that industries have long tried to gatekeep.

Even Seemingly Small Forms of Liberation Have Impact
So why is this practice so liberating, beyond the classic call for diversity? Because it’s about reclaiming agency over our identities in the context of colonization. Let me share a bit about myself.
I’m a Sri Lankan American, born to immigrants. My father’s last name is Tissera, and my mother’s maiden name is Fernando—both Portuguese names. Sri Lanka was colonized by the Portuguese (as well as the Dutch and British). Part of Portuguese colonial rule involved forced conversions to Catholicism, and as a marker of conquest, we were stripped of our Sri Lankan names and given Portuguese ones.
Do you tend to choose PC names similar to your own or vastly different?
Though the Portuguese couldn’t fully colonize the entire nation, they controlled the coasts, leaving a lasting legacy. Today, many Sri Lankans with Portuguese surnames have reclaimed their identities by giving their children distinctly Sri Lankan first names. For example, while my father and his brothers have names like Joseph, Alex, and Dixon, my generation has names like Hiruni, Chamoda, and Kavinda.
There is immense liberation in names, especially for those whose names were erased by oppressors. Choosing a name—and loving it—is a powerful act. The trans community understands this deeply: embracing a chosen name while rejecting a dead name is a transformative moment. Similarly, as I embrace my own name and shed the one forced on my ancestors, I feel immense joy. Playing characters with names that reflect my heritage is my way of saying to colonizers, “Drop as many bombs as you want. You’ll never erase us.”
What If I Want to Name My Character Ryan?
Go for it! That’s also valid. We aren’t a monolith. I grew up with Sri Lankan Ryans, Erics, and Amandas alongside Roshanes, Umayandas, and Surenis. A name doesn’t make you more or less Sri Lankan than another. Colonization shaped our history, making those Western names a part of us too. What’s important is to share our truths, histories, and identities. Use your voice in Actual Play to do just that.
— Shenuque
🗞️ News Worthy
BackerKit announced it more than tripled its crowdfunding revenue in 2024 on the backs of TTRPGs. (Polygon)
Rascal announces a physical zine in celebration of its one-year anniversary to be published by moreblueberries. (Pre-Order Now)
Why Does the January 6th Wargame Even Exist? (Rascal)
Possum Creek Games becomes an imprint of Steve Jackson Games with Jay Dragon as new Lead Game Designer and Ruby Lavin as Art Director.
My First Dungeon will be announcing its next season this Friday!
🎲 What We’re Bringing to The Table
🎥 Watch: Triangle Agency, Control, and Hostile Agendas (Video Essay by A.A. Voigt)
📚 Read: DIERPG: Designer Notes by Kieron Gillen
🎧 Listen: One Shot: Triangle Agency ft. Elliot Davis
🎙️ New From The Studio
Talk of the Table: Zine Month Special, Part 2 (Tuesday February 11)
Bitcherton Episode 8 with Will Campos (Wednesday February 19)
What a great, interesting article. I’m so happy that the younger gens of Sri Lankans are embracing their historical names, their birthrights and culture. Sometimes I think I know my history and then hear a story like this and I realize I don’t know as much as I think I know. It humbles me. Forced erasure of names and culture was so common and so wrong. It makes me burn inside every time that I hear about it. For the person who decided that a name negates and disqualifies a person from a job, shame on her. Sadly, this is all too common. Thank you for this article! 😊😊😊
I mostly read/lurk but came in to say how much I enjoyed this installment!