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With goblins, spellcasters and delis, board game makers are imagining new Jewish worlds
(JTA) — Running a not-so-Zagat-rated deli, dropping into a Chinese restaurant for Christmas Eve dinner and acting out a bat mitzvah that involves a vampire — for contemporary board game fans, those can be all in an evening’s play.
That’s because a crop of new games aims to merge Jewish ideas and experiences with the aesthetics and language of games such as Dungeons & Dragons. Dream Apart places players in a fantastical reimagining of a 19th-century shtetl, for example, while J.R. Goldberg’s God of Vengeance draws inspiration from the Yiddish play of the same name. In the games in Doikayt, a collection released in 2020, players can literally wrestle with God.
Known as tabletop role-playing games because they ask players to take on a character, these games and their creators imagine exciting new worlds, subvert classic tropes in fun and irreverent ways, and reinterpret Jewish history and identity.
Tabletop role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons and Call of Cthulhu have exploded in popularity over the past several years, with many — including at least one group of rabbis — picking up the Zoom-friendly hobby during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. But the new Jewish games aim to do more than just provide a diversion or even an escape.
“Depending on your family, depending on your synagogue, depending on your community, you may have gotten more or fewer options of what Jewishness could mean in your imagination,” said Lucian Kahn, who created a trilogy of humorous Jewish role-playing games.
“What some of these games are doing is opening that up and pointing to alternate possibilities of imagining Jewishness, not as a way of converting anyone to anything else, but just as a way of showing the tradition is enormous,” he added.
Kahn is the creator of If I Were a Lich, Man, a trilogy of humorous games whose name is a mashup between a “Fiddler on the Roof” song and an undead character, the lich, that frequently appears in fantasy fiction and games. In the title game, players are Jewish liches — spellcasters whose souls, in the lore of Dungeons & Dragons, are stored in phylacteries, the Greek word for tefillin used by Jews in prayer. Representing the four children of the Passover seder, they debate how their community should address the threat of encroaching holy knights.
In some cases, the association of Jews with monsters has given rise to charges of antisemitism — the goblins of “Harry Potter” offer a prime example. But Kahn said he sees Jewish-coded monsters, and queer-coded villains, as figures of resistance.
“There’s a long tradition of looking at the monster and seeing that the reason why these are monsters is because the people who have oppressive power have decided that these are going to be the enemies of the ‘good’ oppressive powers,” Kahn explained. “But if you don’t agree with their ideology, if you’re seeing yourself as being a member of a marginalized community and being in opposition to these oppressive powers, then you can look at the qualities assigned to these monsters and some of them are qualities that are good.”
For Kahn, Jewish-coded monster characters also provide more of an inspiration than the archetypes of more traditional games.
“Maybe somebody thinks they’re insulting me or insulting Jews,” he said. “My response is: I like vampires and liches and trolls and goblins and think they’re much more interesting than bland white muscular humans running through the fields with a cross on their chest hacking at the same things with a sword over and over again.”
Kahn’s outlook has resonated in the tabletop role-playing game community. In February, he and Hit Point Press launched a Kickstarter to fund production of If I Were a Lich, Man. The campaign smashed its $5,000 goal, raising $84,590, enough to hit one of the campaign’s stretch goals of funding a grant to support independent zines about tabletop role-playing games.
The successful campaign means that Kahn’s three games will go into production. In addition to the game about liches, the trilogy includes Same Bat Time, Same Bat Mitzvah, in which players act out a bat mitzvah where one guest has been turned into a vampire, and Grandma’s Drinking Song, inspired by how Kahn’s Jewish great-great grandmother and her children survived in 1920s New York City by working as bootleggers during Prohibition.
In Grandma’s Drinking Song, players write a drinking song together as they act out scenes. Kahn, the former singer/songwriter and guitarist for Brooklyn Jewish queercore folk-punk band Schmekel, wanted to carry over elements of music into this game.
A throughline in all three games is the power of creative resistance to authority — a narrative that Kahn said strikes him as particularly Jewish.
“There are all these stories in Jewish folklore that are really overtly about finding trickster-y or creative ways of fighting back against oppressive and unjust governmental regimes, evil kings, bad advisors,” Kahn said. “One of the first stories I ever heard in my life was the Purim story, so it’s very embedded in my mind as a part of Jewish consciousness, when evil rulers come to power and try to kill us all, we’re supposed to find these outside-the-box ways of preventing that from happening.”
For some Jewish creators, Jewish holidays are an explicit inspiration. Like many Jewish kids of the ‘80s and ‘90s, Max Fefer, a civil engineer by day and game designer by night, grew up loving the picture book “Herschel and the Hanukkah Goblins,” which remains a popular festive text. But as Fefer notes, goblins are often associated with antisemitic stereotypes. Fefer’s first Jewish game, Hanukkah Goblins, turns the story on its head — players interact as the jovial goblins, who are here not to destroy but to spread the spirit of Hanukkah to their goblin neighbors.
Last year, Fefer launched a successful Kickstarter for another Jewish holiday-inspired tabletop role-playing game, Esther and the Queens, where players assume the roles of Esther and her handmaidens from the Purim story, who join together to defeat Haman by infiltrating a masquerade party as queens from a far-off land.
Esther and the Queens channels Fefer’s Purim memories and includes carnival activities, including Skee-Ball; a calm, relaxing Mishloach Manot basket-making; and a fast-paced racing game.
“All of our holidays, they’re opportunities for us to gather as a community in different ways,” Fefer said. “Watching this satirical, comedic retelling of the story of Purim and the Esther Megillah and coming together into a theater, in a synagogue, to watch these spiels and laugh together and spin the graggers when we hear Haman’s name — all of those things help us build identity and community, and I think games in particular surrounding identity, that’s a great way for a Jewish person themselves to feel seen in a game and reinforce their identity, and share their background with friends.”
Another pair of Jewish game creators, Gabrielle Rabinowitz and her cousin, Ben Bisogno, were inspired by Passover.
“The seder is kind of like an RPG in that it’s a structured storytelling experience where everyone takes turns reading and telling, and there’s rituals and things you do at a certain time,” Rabinowitz said. “It’s halfway to an RPG.”
The game became a pandemic project for the two of them, and alongside artist Katrin Dirim and a host of other collaborators, they created Ma Nishtana: Why Is This Night Different? — a story game modeled on their family’s seder. The game follows the main beats of the Exodus story, and in every game, there will be a call to action from God, a moment of resistance, a departure and a final barrier — but different characters and moments resonate depending on the players’ choices.
As an educator at the Museum of Natural History, Rabinowitz said she is often thinking about how to foster participation and confidence, and she wanted to create a game-play mechanic to encourage players to be “as brazen as her family is.” The result was an in-game action called “Wait! Wait! Wait!” — if players wish to ask a question, make a suggestion, disagree with a course of action or share a new perspective, they can call out “Wait! Wait! Wait!” to do so.
The game also includes a series of scenes that are actively roleplayed or narrated, and each includes a ritual — one that can be done in-person or an alternate remote-friendly version. For example, at one point each player must come up with a plague inspired by the new story they’re telling together, and in the remote version, players go camera-off after reciting theirs.
“The fact that it was created during the pandemic and a way for us to connect and other people to connect with each other is really the soul of the game,” Rabinowitz said. “After each person tells a plague, by the end, all the cameras are off and everyone stays silent for another minute. It’s a hugely impactful moment when you’re playing remotely. The design is interwoven in the game itself.”
Rabinowitz said by playing a story of a family undergoing these trials, the themes of family and identity deepen every time she plays the game.
“A lot of people say, ‘Wow, I’ve never felt more connected to this story,’” she said. “Embodying these characters gave me a feeling of relevance and that makes it feel important as a Jewish precept.”
For other creators, that deep connection comes in more lighthearted scenarios. Nora Katz, a theatremaker, game designer and public historian working at the Goldring/Woldenberg Institute of Southern Jewish Life (ISJL) by day, created the Jewish deli-centered game Lunch Rush, which was included in the Doikayt anthology.
“There’s also types of institutions that come up a lot in [tabletop role-playing games], especially sort of high fantasy,” she said. “Everyone meets in a tavern, there’s an inn, things like that. So the idea of a deli as a central gathering place in a world like that felt fun to me.”
An important element of Lunch Rush is that players must be eating while playing, so for Katz’s first round with friends, they got together with chocolate chip ice cream and dill pickle potato chips. She said the deli is a shared language, and her fellow players were all bringing in their own favorite things about delis they loved into the fictional place they were building together.
Tabletop role-playing games “at their core are about collaboration and relationships and storytelling and community, and for me, all of those things are also what Jewishness is about, to me they totally go hand in hand,” Katz said.
The games are not meant to be for Jewish players only. Rabinowitz said the guidebook for Ma Nishtana includes essays to encourage people to further engage with the narrative.
“Jewish players, non-Jewish players, priests, non-religious people, all different people have played it and almost all of them have told us it’s given them a new way of thinking of how they relate to religious tradition, and I didn’t really set out to do that,” Rabinowitz said. “I feel really privileged to have helped create that space.”
Rabinowitz and Bisogno also commissioned other creators to build alternate backdrops for their game, so it can be repurposed to telling the story of another oppressed people’s fight for freedom. Players can interact as embattled yaoguai, spirits from Chinese mythology; explore a Janelle Monáe-inspired Afrofuturist world; play as Indigenous land defenders; or unionize as exploited workers at “E-Shypt.”
Fefer, who has been amplifying the work of other Jewish creators in the tabletop role-playing game space, said the harm of stereotyping and reinforcing negative tropes is still present in the industry, and not just for Jewish people. For example, fans recently criticized Dungeons & Dragons publishers Wizards of the Coast for reinforcing anti-Black stereotypes in the descriptions of a fantasy race, the Hadozee.
“I think it’s a process of talking to people who are from these groups and bringing them onto your teams and making sure you’re incorporating their perspectives into, in the example of Dungeons & Dragons, a hundred-million-dollar industry, being intentional about that design and looking at things from lots of different angles,” Fefer said. “How could our branding, our games be reinforcing something we’re not even aware of?”
Fefer hopes people who play Hanukkah Goblins and Esther and the Queens feel seen and have moments of shared joy, and also that they learn something from these games — about the antisemitic tropes in fantasy, or about underrepresented groups within the Jewish community. With Esther and the Queens, Fefer collaborated with a writer and artist, Noraa Kaplan, to retell the Purim story from a queer and feminist lens, drawing on Jewish texts that the pair said shows the long presence of queer and trans people in Jewish tradition.
“We have a lot of richness within Judaism to share our culture and share our upbringing but also just be representation,” Fefer added. “We’re living in a time of heightened antisemitism and the world being a gross place to be at times, and we can really bring the beauty of Judaism into game design and create experiences for people that are both representative of Judaism and also just very Jewish experiences.”
But for all the important conversations and learning experiences that can come from Jewish tabletop role-playing games, Katz said the goofiness and joy is important, too.
“We live in such a horrendous society that is of our own making,” she said. “If you can, for a little while, enjoy an anticapitalist fictional deli that you and your friends live in, I think that’s great.”
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The post With goblins, spellcasters and delis, board game makers are imagining new Jewish worlds appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Stop Platforming Bigotry and Hate: We Can’t Build Bridges with Destructionists
US Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY). Photo: Mike Jourdan/Flickr.
A society that cannot distinguish between a critic and a destructionist is a society in the process of dismantling itself.
For decades, the leaders of Western institutions — universities, legacy media, and political think tanks — have operated on the Liberal Consensus Model. This model assumes that every stakeholder, no matter how radical, ultimately wants a seat at the table to negotiate a better version of the status quo.
But we are currently witnessing the total collapse of this assumption. Institutions are mistaking a siege for a negotiation.
The “Destructionist” does not want a seat at the table; they want to use the wood for kindling. When an institution offers a “bridge” to someone whose starting premise is the dismantling of liberal democracy or the erasure of a people, they aren’t practicing “inclusion.” They are providing a tactical ramp for an assault.
This is not a “Left” or “Right” problem; it is a vulnerability of the center. Across the political spectrum, we see the same mechanics of “laundering” at work — where moderate leaders trade their institutional credibility for access to a radical’s megaphone.
On the left, we see the normalization of figures like Hasan Piker. When the “Pod Save America” crew or politicians like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez (D-NY) treat Piker as a “bold youth voice,” they are signaling that his destructionist starting points — such as supporting the eradication of Zionism — are within the bounds of a reasonable democratic coalition.
They frame it as “outreach,” failing to realize that they are importing eliminationist rhetoric into the heart of the mainstream.
On the right, the rot is equally visible in the laundering of Tucker Carlson. When Kevin Roberts, President of the Heritage Foundation, or politicians like Vice President JD Vance defend Carlson even as he platforms Holocaust revisionists and Nazi apologists, they are breaking a decades-old covenant. By framing Carlson’s descent into conspiratorial bigotry as “challenging the establishment,” they are laundering a brand of hatred that was rightly ostracized from the movement generations ago.
In both cases, these “bridge-builders” suffer from a form of institutional narcissism: the belief that their own empathy or political utility is powerful enough to transcend a destructionist ideology. They believe they can negotiate a floor plan with an arsonist who has already lit the match.
It is common to lump these figures in with Joe Rogan, but the distinction is critical for understanding where our accountability must lie.
Rogan is a private citizen having a public conversation. While he causes undeniable material harm by uncritically platforming bigoted views –and we should absolutely pressure him to do better — he is fundamentally only representing himself.
Conversely, we must hold the Ezra Kleins, the Jon Favreaus, and the Heritage Foundations to a far higher standard because they represent institutions. When a gatekeeper stops guarding the gate on behalf of an institution, the gate ceases to exist. Rogan is a symptom of a culture that finds fire interesting; these institutional leaders are the architects who were supposed to be building the firewalls. Their failure is not just an error in judgment; it is professional malpractice.
The solution is not state-censorship, but a renewal of communal self-respect. We must re-learn the lesson of how we defeated the KKK: we didn’t “win the debate” at a shared seminar; we made the white hood socially disqualifying.
The path forward requires a two-fold strategy:
1. Enforce “Social Jail”
We must return to a model of principled ostracization. If your starting point is the destruction of a people or the subversion of the democratic covenant, you belong in “social jail.” This is not “cancel culture” — which often offers no path back — but a boundary. Social jail allows for repair. When an individual renounces the destructionist framework and demonstrably accounts for the harm they’ve advocated through public renunciation and restorative action, the door can be reopened. But until then, the line must be held.
2. Critical Friction vs. Laundering
Journalists and pundits must stop acting as facilitators. If they choose to engage with these figures, the “friendly engagement” model must be replaced with hostile exposure. You can interview an arsonist about why he likes fire, but you don’t hire him as a fire safety consultant.
The standard defense for this laundering is the phrase: “I don’t agree with everything he says.”
In the context of eliminationist bigotry, this is not a defense; it is a confession of moral cowardice — or at best, professional dereliction. To be a journalist or a civic leader is to have the courage to name the “tripwire.” If you platform a bigot, you have a professional obligation to state, explicitly, which of their hateful taboos you oppose. If you refuse to name the bigotry — if you treat it as a mere “difference of opinion” — you are not conducting an interview; you are providing a sanitation service.
We have spent years building bridges with people who are committed to destroying them. We have watched as they used those bridges to infiltrate our schools, our media, and our political parties.
It is time to stop being the architects of our own demise. If we cannot say “No” to those who wish to see our foundations destroyed, our “Yes” to progress and our democratic system will eventually mean nothing at all. We must stop exhausting our moral vocabulary on minor transgressions so that we have the collective clarity required to name the destructionists for what they are.
It is time to stop building the bridge and start holding the line.
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78 Years Later, the Palestinian Authority Still Dreams of Israel’s Demise
Lebanese President Joseph Aoun meets with Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas at the presidential palace in Baabda, Lebanon, May 21, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Mohamed Azakir
As Israel celebrates the 78th anniversary of its Independence, the Palestinian Authority (PA) and its government-run media continue to promote the ideology that Israel has no right to exist and is a temporary “occupation” that will soon vanish.
Here are some examples that Palestinian Media Watch (PMW) has documented recently:
PA Jerusalem District Spokesman Ma’arouf Al-Rifai: “Ever since Allah created this land, we have continued to live here and defend it, we are the spearhead on defending these holy sites.
The occupation [i.e., Israel] is ultimately destined to disappear.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Individuals, Jan. 31, 2026]
Palestinian National Council member Dr. Shafiq Al-Talouli: “This state [i.e., Israel] is revealing the true face of the occupation that has stolen Palestine since 1948, and which relies on the same ideology of carrying out forced expulsion, and which strives through the use of force, committing massacres, starvation, and the like to remove the Palestinian people from its land.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Topic of the Day, Nov. 6, 2025]
Official PA TV programs, interviews, and documentaries repeat the ideology that Israel’s existence is temporary:
Official PA TV Israeli affairs “expert” Nizar Nazzal: “Palestine is the compass, and here the empires crashed down. Whether it was the Mongols, the Crusaders, or others. Therefore, these empires [i.e., Israe] too, here on the land of Palestine, will crash down.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Topic of the Day, Jan. 20, 2026]
The PA tells its people that Israelis, deep down, agree that Israel is doomed:
Official PA TV narrator: “Even in the depths of the Israeli public, there is an understanding that their presence here is temporary. The dual citizenship of the soldiers and settlers is not just a coincidence but rather an escape plan ready to be executed if the balance of powers changes.”
Jurist Sufian Siyam: “The Israeli knows in his subconscious mind that his existence on this land is temporary. …In 2006, there was an Israeli soldier named Gilad Shalit. We were surprised to discover later that Gilad Shalit has French citizenship … Israeli soldier Edan Alexander [a hostage captured and released during Hamas’ Oct. 7 war] has American citizenship. Why do the Israeli soldiers and Israeli civilians insist on having another citizenship besides Israeli citizenship? Because deep in his heart, his grandfather before him and his son after him knew that his existence on this land is temporary.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Time Without Ceasefire, Jan. 28, 2026]
Whether from PA officials or its state media, the message to Palestinians remains constant: Israel has no right to exist, Israel is temporary, Palestinians are permanent, and time will erase the Jewish State.
At the same time, the PA continues to demand Western governments fund this culture of hate and rejectionism while choosing to look the other way.
The author is a contributor to Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.
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PA Libel: Jewish Scripture Says Non-Jews Are ‘Pigs in the Form of Humans to Serve the Jews’
Palestinians shout slogans at the compound that houses Al-Aqsa Mosque, known to Muslims as Noble Sanctuary and to Jews as Temple Mount, following clashes with Israeli security forces in Jerusalem’s Old City April 15, 2022. REUTERS/Ammar Awad
In addition to its eliminationist rhetoric, the Palestinian Authority (PA)’s brainwashing of its people is ongoing and effective.
Palestinian Media Watch regularly documents that ordinary Palestinians echo the antisemitic and Nazi-like statements by PA leaders and officials. The PA portrays Jews as being “arrogant by nature,” and planning to “subjugate the entire world.” Palestinian citizens adopt and repeat these teachings.
Accordingly, anti-Israeli activists spread the libel that the Jewish Talmud teaches that non-Jews are “pigs in the form of humans [created] to serve the Jews”:
Anti-Israeli activist in the Jordan Valley Ayman Ghraib: “The colonialism began in the [Jewish] religious schools where the colonialists [i.e., Jews] were educated to hate the Arabs and Palestinians and everything that is not Jewish.
We have obtained booklets that contain an exact quote from the Talmudic text — that non-Jews are pigs that God created in the form of humans to serve the Jews … In their religious books it is written that Allah created this [olive] tree for the Jews … and if they cannot enjoy its fruits, they should burn it.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, Crops, April 6, 2026]
The Talmud contains no such statement about non-Jews being pigs.
Even as Palestinians falsely accuse Jews of dehumanizing non-Jews, the PA itself portrays Jews as sub-human.
In the words of PA leader Mahmoud Abbas’ advisor, Jews are “grazing herds of humanoids … apes and pigs.” Recently, a Palestinian in Lebanon expressed a similar view, saying Jews are “pigs and donkeys”:
Lebanese singer and actor Abd Asqoul: “The enemy [Israel] is very stupid. He does not understand that it is impossible, regardless of what will be, there is something that lives inside us [Palestinians] … But this pig is not just a pig, he is a donkey who does not understand.
He thought my identity is a few papers and flour, and it escaped him that I am from the seed of heroes. .. My identity is land and rock and the sand of the beaches with shells and the blue color in their waters, from Rosh Hanikra [i.e., on Israel’s northern border] to proud Umm Al-Rashrash [i.e., Eilat, Israel’s southern border].” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, The Creativity of the Refugee Camp, Jan. 20, 2026]
The Palestinian Authority’s antisemitism also portrays Jews as the “enemy of humanity.” A Palestinian academic and former PA deputy minister stressed this recently, specifying that Jews are not only the “enemy” of Palestinians, but of all “humanity”:
Bethlehem University political science lecturer and former PA Deputy Minister of Jerusalem Affairs Sa’id Yaqin: “Jerusalem … is also the strongest symbol in this conflict, which is being waged with this enemy [i.e., Israel]. This is the enemy of humanity and not of the Palestinian people.” [emphasis added]
[Official PA TV, March 14, 2026]
The author is the Founder and Director of Palestinian Media Watch, where a version of this article first appeared.