P. H. Blackwood

P. H. Blackwood has spent the better part of two decades building worlds — in code, across tabletops, and lately on the page — and somewhere in there discovered that every world has a mood.

Some of his worlds are warm: found family, second chances, a good ending that feels like coming home. Others are considerably less forgiving — dungeon-crawls where the fine print is more dangerous than the monsters and heroism is a line item on the contract. He hides puzzles in the margins for readers who aren't ready to leave.

He lives on the Florida coast, where the weather refuses to cooperate with the idea of a cozy autumn, so he writes one anyway. Then writes its darker cousin.

He drinks far more tea than is strictly defensible.