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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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Javier Bardem Slams Trump, Netanyahu for Iran War Before Declaring ‘Free Palestine’ at Academy Awards
Javier Bardem and Priyanka Chopra Jonas on stage during the Oscars show at the 98th Academy Awards in Hollywood, Los Angeles, California, US, March 15, 2026. Photo: REUTERS/Mike Blake
Spanish actor Javier Bardem protested the US-Israeli war with Iran while speaking to reporters on the red carpet at the 98th Academy Awards on Sunday night, before taking to the stage at the awards show in Los Angeles and declaring “Free Palestine.”
The Oscar winner, 57, attended the ceremony at the Dolby Theater wearing on his tuxedo lapel a pin that said, “No a la Guerra,” which in Spanish means, “No to War.” He wore the same pin in 2003 to protest the US invasion of Iraq.
The “F1” star has been a vocal critic of Israel’s military actions in the Gaza Strip during the Israel-Hamas war and has publicly voiced support for a “Free Palestine” several times in the past. While speaking to reporters at the Academy Awards, he blasted the US and Israel for their joint strikes against Iran, specifically calling out US President Donald Trump and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.
“I’m wearing a pin that I used in 2003 with the Iraq war, which was an illegal war,” Bardem told The Hollywood Reporter on Sunday night on the Oscars red carpet. “And we are here, 23 years after, with another illegal war, created by Trump and Netanyahu with another lie, which is to defeat the regime. But they are radicalizing the regime by their horrific actions. So that’s not the reason, as it was not the reason weapons of mass destruction in 2003.”
Bardem also wore to the Oscars this year a pin in support of Palestinian resistance on his tuxedo lapel. On the pin was a drawing of Handala, a character created by Palestinian newspaper cartoonist Naji al-Ali in 1969. Handala is a 10-year-old Palestinian refugee who is turning his back to the world and has become a long-standing symbol for Palestinians. Bardem said it is a “Palestine symbol of resistance.”
Later on in the evening, while co-presenting the award for best international feature film with actress Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Bardem made more political comments, but this time about “Palestine.” When he walked on stage, the first thing he said was, “No to war. Free Palestine,” before presenting the nominees for the category.
After getting off stage, he told Variety he felt compelled to take about the “injustice” he feels is taking place in the Middle East. “Which in this case is the genocide in Palestine that is still going on … what is going on in the West Bank, the abuse of civil rights and human rights and ethnic cleansing,” he added. “It’s horrible … and then the illegal war [in Iran].”
“They are not defeating any regime, they are radicalizing the regime, bombing innocent people,” Bardem claimed about the US-Israeli joint strikes against Iran.
Before entering the Vanity Fair afterparty, he told USA Today: “We are going back to the same beginning of lying and manipulating us … it’s not about freedom. It’s not about changing any regime. It’s about creating a chaos that only benefits the richest and the people that have the power to control the area.”
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College Republicans Federation Disbands University of Florida Chapter Over Nazi Pictures
An entrance to the University of Florida in Gainesville, Dec. 4, 2020. Photo: USA Today Network via Reuters Connect
The Florida Federation of College Republicans (FFCR) has disbanded its chapter at the University of Florida and asked the school to deactivate it following an investigation which revealed that student leaders photographed themselves pantomiming the Nazi salute.
“This request is based on the FFCR’s findings that some Local CR [College Republicans] members engaged in a pattern of conduct that violated its rules and values, including a recent antisemitic gesture,” the university said in a statement on Saturday. “In compliance with its policies, the University of Florida is in the process of deactivating the Local CR as a registered student organization. When the FFCR is ready, the university will also assist it with reactivating the Local CR under new student leadership.”
Since reports of the action emerged, the UF College Republicans chapter has alleged that the Florida Federation lacks jurisdiction over the organization, insisting that it is registered with the College Republicans of America group. There are several contending “College Republican” groups, including the original College Republican National Committee founded in 1892, College Republicans United, the National Federation of College Republicans (NFCR), and College Republicans.
“They cited the FFFCR, an organization that we are not a part of that has no authority over our chapter [sic],” College Republicans of America said in a statement. “We look forward to the university reinstating our club and correcting this statement. We have retained counsel and have received information that this is not the first time that FFCR has lied to silence Christian conservative groups on campus.”
Regardless of the outcome of the dispute, the incident marks the second time this month that conservative youth were publicly outed for indulging Nazism and the white supremacist movement. Earlier this month, leaked texts revealed dozens of antisemitic and racist texts exchanged by young Republicans in Miami-Dade County, Florida, some of which fantasized about engaging in onanism in an all-white country.
As first reported by The Miami Herald, the group chat, created on WhatsApp, was described by its members as “Nazi heaven” for the daily barrage of extremist comments contributed to it. Individuals affiliated with the Miami-Dade Country Republicans, Turning Point USA, and College Republicans casually said “ni—er,” denounced women as “whores,” and spoke rapturously about Adolf Hitler.
Dariel Gonzalez, according to the Herald, was one of the chat’s most prolific contributors, bandying about comments regarding “color professors” and telling members that “You can f—k all the k—kes you want. Just don’t marry them and procreate.”
The group chat’s exposure comes at a time when, according to recent polling, young Republicans have increasingly embraced antisemitism and conspiracy theories.
As The Algemeiner has previously reported, antisemitism has permeated college campuses across the US for years, even before the recent surge in incidents amid the Israel-Hamas war in Gaza.
In 2022 alone, anti-Zionists at State University of New York (SUNY) New Paltz expelled a sexual assault survivor from a victim support group over her support for Zionism; a former University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) lecturer threatened to commit a mass shooting of Jews on campus, saying in a note to former colleagues that “Violence against Jews should happen. Retaliation and retribution for what they have stolen is legitimate and a good thing”; and students at Indiana University posted messages on a social media forum which lambasted “east coast Jews” as rapists, charging that their “huge noses, afros, and smelliness prevent them from being attractive.”
The Palestinian terrorist group’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre across southern Israel unleashed a historic surge in such outrages on US campuses. College students, joined by faculty, carried out a number of antisemitic incidents and hate crimes — spitting on Jewish students at the University of California, Berkeley while calling them “Jew”; gang assaulting Jewish students at Columbia University’s Butler Library; vandalizing public spaces with swastika graffiti; and chasing Jewish students out of graduate programs by denying them religious accommodations and smearing their reputations.
While much of the anti-Zionist movement on campus has been associated politically with the far left, the far right has recently been involved with a series of antisemitic incidents on campuses,
In October, for example, a conservative student magazine at Harvard University published an essay which bore likeness to key tenets of Nazi doctrine. In January, a sophomore and right-wing social media influencer at the University of Miami verbally attacked a Jewish student group, calling its members disgusting while accusing rabbis of eating infants.
Campus antisemitism has changed the college experience for American Jewish students, affecting how they live, socialize, and perceive themselves as Jews, according to new survey results released by the American Jewish Committee (AJC) in partnership with Hillel International.
A striking 42 percent of Jewish students reported experiencing antisemitism during their time on campus, and of that group, 55 percent said they felt that being Jewish at a campus event threatened their safety. The survey also found that 34 percent of Jewish students avoid being detected as Jews, hiding their Jewish identity due to fear of antisemitism. Meanwhile, 38 percent of Jewish students said they decline to utter pro-Israel viewpoints on campus, including in class, for fear of being targeted by anti-Zionists. The rate of self-censorship is significantly higher for Jewish students who have already been subjected to antisemitism, registering at 68 percent.
“No Jewish student should have to hide their identity out of fear of antisemitism, yet that’s the reality for too many students today,” Hillel International chief executive officer Adam Lehman said in February. “Our work on the ground every day is focused on changing that reality by creating environments where all Jewish students can find welcoming communities and can fully and proudly express their Jewish identities without fear or concern.”
Follow Dion J. Pierre @DionJPierre.
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Amsterdam’s New Warning to Europe on Antisemitism
Anti-Israel protesters clash with police outside Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw, breaking through barricades and setting off smoke bombs during a demonstration against a performance by the IDF’s chief cantor. Photo: Screenshot
Amsterdam likes to present itself as a city of tolerance. It celebrates diversity, prides itself on openness, and often reminds the world of its history as a refuge for those seeking freedom. Yet something deeply troubling happened in Amsterdam last week that should concern not only the Netherlands, but all of Europe:
A municipal debate about antisemitism had to be held at a secret location because of security concerns.
Pause for a moment and consider what that means. In a democratic European capital, a discussion about protecting a Jewish minority could not take place openly for fear of threats and intimidation. If that does not signal a serious problem, what does?
That’s in addition to the bombing of a Jewish school, and another attack that just occurred.
During the meeting, a 15-year old Jewish boy addressed the room. His testimony cut through political rhetoric and statistics with the clarity only a young voice can bring. Since the October 7, 2023, massacre in Israel, he said, life for Jewish students in Amsterdam has changed dramatically. Many of his friends have already left the city. They no longer see a future there.
Imagine hearing those words in 2026 in one of Europe’s most celebrated liberal cities. A teenager speaking calmly about the disappearance of his community.
Amsterdam alderman Melanie van der Horst was visibly moved and struggled to hold back tears. The emotional moment showed that some political leaders understand the gravity of what is happening. Yet empathy alone will not solve the problem.
Another participant in the debate raised a painful but necessary question: How must it feel for Jewish residents to walk daily through public spaces where demonstrations take place in which their country and their people are shouted down? Pro-Palestinian protests have become a constant presence in parts of the city. Political protest is a democratic right, but when rhetoric turns into open hostility toward Jews, society has crossed a dangerous line.
One proposal during the debate illustrated the level of frustration. A politician suggested sending undercover police officers into the streets wearing a kippah in order to identify those who harass Jews. Critics called the idea controversial. But the fact that such a measure is even being discussed reveals how serious the situation has become.
The problem extends beyond the streets. Jewish organizations in the Netherlands increasingly report difficulties renting venues for events. Cultural gatherings and lectures sometimes struggle to find halls willing to host them. It rarely makes headlines, but this quiet exclusion sends a clear message: you are welcome in theory, but not visibly.
History has taught Europe where that kind of atmosphere can lead. Antisemitism rarely begins with violence. It begins with discomfort, social pressure, and the slow normalization of hostility toward Jewish identity.
Meanwhile, another factor fuels the problem. Much of the European media landscape presents Israel through a lens that reduces a complex reality to a simple narrative of aggressor and victim. When context disappears and facts are replaced by slogans, public perception shifts. The hostility directed at Israel easily spills over into hostility toward Jews living thousands of kilometers away.
That is why factual education and responsible journalism matter so much. Civil society organizations that work to counter misinformation often struggle to be heard. Yet without a commitment to truth, public debate becomes an echo chamber for activism rather than a search for understanding.
There is also a question for Jewish communities themselves. When fear grows, the instinct to become less visible is understandable. But invisibility comes at a cost. If intimidation forces people to hide their identity, those spreading hatred learn that their tactics work.
The lesson of Jewish history is painfully clear. Silence has never protected Jewish communities.
Strength does not mean confrontation. It means refusing to surrender identity and dignity to intimidation. It means raising a generation that is proud rather than afraid. It means understanding that resilience is sometimes the only answer to those who seek to erase a people’s presence.
The young boy in Amsterdam asked a simple question without even intending to pose a challenge to Europe: will the Jewish community still exist here in the future?
That question should echo far beyond the walls of the municipal chamber where he spoke. Because if a Jewish teenager in Amsterdam already doubts his future in the city, then Europe is facing not just a Jewish problem.
It is facing a moral test of its own values.