D&D GMs, Why It’s Okay to Feel Weird About AI, and Why You Should Use It Anyway

AI Isn’t the Storyteller—It’s the Spark Plug

If AI feels a little weird to you right now, you’re not alone.

For many of us—whether we’re writers, artists, teachers, or GMs—AI can feel like it’s encroaching on sacred ground. It can draft scenes, sketch characters, even paint dramatic landscapes in seconds. And that’s unsettling. Especially if you’ve ever spent hours refining a sentence, balancing encounter mechanics, or obsessing over the lighting in a map illustration—only to watch a machine generate something halfway decent in five seconds.

It’s not just about speed. It’s about identity. Creativity has always felt like something deeply personal, even sacred. And when a tool starts doing the things that once defined our voice—writing stories, building NPCs, drawing moody forests or cursed altars—it’s natural to ask: Am I still the one creating?

That question matters. And the fact that you’re asking it means you care.

Here’s the shift: AI isn’t here to replace your creativity. It’s becoming the infrastructure that powers it. Think of it like plumbing for your imagination—quiet, essential, and often invisible. You still choose what to build, what to discard, and what to make better. But now, you have a co-dreamer who can clear the friction, test the edge cases, and throw unexpected sparks when you need them most.

That’s what happened to me while building The Caravan of Whispers. What started as a vague idea about a ghostly caravan became a fully realized campaign—because I had help.

Not from another writer or artist, but from AI that knew everything about the Silk Road, the Taklamakan Desert, and ley line mysticism to push my ideas further than I could have taken them alone.

I’ll tell that story in a moment. But first, let’s sit with the weirdness. Because naming that discomfort is part of the process—and stepping through it is where the real creative breakthroughs begin.

"AI didn’t replace my creativity. It reminded me how big it could be—with the right spark."– From the margins of my campaign notes, somewhere between doubt and inspiration

Creativity as Infrastructure: The Real Role of AI

Let’s be real—AI can write your campaign for you. It can spit out a dungeon, name your NPCs, and wrap it all in a passable narrative arc in seconds. That’s what makes it unsettling. If it can do all that… what’s left for you?

The answer: everything that matters.

AI can generate content—but it doesn’t know what you want to say. It doesn’t know your players, their personal backstories, their inside jokes, or the tone that holds your table together. That’s your job—and it always will be.

So stop treating AI like a rival author. Start treating it like infrastructure. It’s the stuff under the hood that powers your imagination at scale. It’s middleware for your creativity—a layer that connects the sparks in your head to the tools that can bring them to life faster.

You still have to decide what’s worth building. But with AI in your corner, you don’t have to waste time finding the door—you’re already walking through it.

And that shift, from “AI as creator” to “AI as catalyst,” is where the real magic begins.

“AI isn’t the artist. It’s the brush, the ink, the extra hand that never gets tired.” – Me, after hours of guiding prompts, chasing ideas, and shaping the Caravan of Whispers into something real—with AI right there, sharpening the pencils while I built the world.

Check out the campaign creation process >>

The Caravan of Whispers: When AI Helped Me Find the Heart of the Story

The idea started with a feeling—mystery, movement, something hidden in starlit sands. I imagined a caravan that only appeared under strange skies, carrying forgotten things: omens, secrets, maybe even lost souls. But I didn’t have the shape of it. Just a vibe.

So I turned to AI—not to write my campaign, but to teach me.

I asked about real-world caravans and trade routes, and it led me to the Silk Road. Then I dug deeper, prompting it about the Taklamakan Desert in western China. That’s when the campaign started to take form. The Taklamakan wasn’t just a backdrop; it was a mirror—a deadly, awe-inspiring place where whole cities disappeared and the wind whispered warnings no one could hear.

That’s when it clicked.

This wasn’t just going to be a caravan. It was going to be a relic of lost knowledge, tied to celestial timing, with factions who feared it, worshipped it, or hunted it. A mystery wrapped in cosmic signs and historical echoes. I didn’t invent that alone—AI helped me connect the dots.

It didn’t just throw me story hooks. It helped me find the crux of the campaign—a story about what we chase, what we forget, and the cost of remembering.

The Mooncall Mystics. The haunted coin. The law: No one talks about the caravan.

That wasn’t just content generation. That was collaboration.

AI Is a Catalyst, Not a Competitor

Here’s the truth that makes some folks squirm: AI can do a lot of what GMs do. It can pitch quest ideas, spin up dungeons, write NPC dialogue, even simulate conversations with characters. That’s powerful—and a little unnerving.

But power doesn’t equal purpose.

AI doesn’t know what your players care about. It doesn’t know who cried when their character’s village burned, or who’s secretly chasing their father’s shadow. It doesn’t know your group’s tone, inside jokes, or that one player who will always try to befriend the villain.

You do.

That’s why AI isn’t the storyteller. It’s the catalyst.

It gets you unstuck. It sparks momentum when the well runs dry. It lets you test five versions of an idea in five minutes and pick the one that feels right. It’s the player who never runs out of suggestions—but always lets you have the final word.

Think of it like a really enthusiastic tavern full of NPCs pitching side quests. Not every one hits. But one of them will make you lean forward and say, “That’s it. That’s the one.”

And then you make it yours.

Still Unsure? Try This One Prompt

You don’t have to go full cyborg to start using AI in your prep. You just need a crack in the wall where the ideas are stuck. A single prompt can be enough to break it open.

Here’s one to try:

+++Reasoning “Give me three fantasy story seeds for a mysterious desert caravan that is based on the silk road and only appears under northern lights. Ask me questions, one at a time, to help me get to the crux of my story and generate 3 unique story outlines.”

That’s it. Simple, direct, loaded with potential.

Now work with it and read what it gives you. Don’t treat it like gospel—treat it like a jam session. Keep what clicks. Twist what doesn’t. Toss the rest. The point isn’t perfection; it’s motion.

AI doesn’t hand you a finished product. It gives you traction. And once the wheels start turning, your creativity does what it was always meant to do—take over.

“AI doesn't replace the story. It just helps you find your way back to it when you're lost.”

You’re Still the Storyteller

No matter how good AI gets, it won’t replace the way you tell a story.

It won’t know when to pause for drama, when to call for a roll that changes everything, or when to let a quiet moment linger. It doesn’t feel what your table feels. But it can help you get to those moments faster—and with more energy left to enjoy them.

Using AI doesn’t mean you’re giving up your role as the creator. It means you’re building with better tools. Tools that don’t get tired, don’t lose your notes, and don’t mind being asked the same question ten different ways until you find the version that sings.

So the next time you're stuck—whether it’s a half-formed plot, an NPC without purpose, or just that lingering “meh” feeling—try giving AI a shot. See what sparks.

Because the magic doesn’t come from the tool. It comes from the hands that use it.

And that’s still you.