The Diner
Your restaurant moves.
Not by choice. Not by accident. It travels between worlds, landing in forests, cities, deserts, dimensions that don’t have names. Each session, it appears somewhere new. The crew wakes up. The chalkboard has changed. There are orders on the rail. The kitchen has new ingredients waiting.
You don’t know why it travels. You cook anyway.
The diner itself is a character. It has opinions. The crew can steer it, suggest where it should go next, but the diner makes its own decisions. Sometimes it listens. Sometimes it doesn’t. After a few sessions, you’ll start to notice patterns. The sender knows something you don’t. Over a campaign, you might piece it together. Or you might not. The mystery is part of the meal.
In a one-shot, the diner lands exactly where it needs to be. The job works out. The mystery stays unsolved, and that’s the point.
Who Sends It
Something or someone sends the diner.
You’ll never meet them. You’ll never know their name. But they leave traces. Three of them, every time.
What You Bring
The diner travels, but everything else is yours.
The look of the place. The name. The crew. The genre. The tone. One session it’s a 1950s diner in a cyberpunk city. Next session it’s a food truck in a fairy forest. The diner doesn’t care. It adapts.
Your crew is the constant. You know how to cook. You know why you cook. You’ve named your restaurant and hung a sign. When the diner lands, you’re ready to work.
The Sessions
A job arrives. The client needs you. The location needs exploring. The ingredients need cooking.
Four card flips build the job. The rest is your hands, pencils, sketches, and collaboration. No rules beyond the prompts. No winner but the story. No end but the presentation.
Then you go again. The diner moves. The mystery deepens.