You’re sitting at a table. Maybe it’s a kitchen table with a sticky spot from some spilled soda, or maybe it’s a virtual tabletop on a screen that’s slightly too bright for 9 PM. You’ve got a blank piece of paper—the Kids on Brooms character sheet—and a pencil. This is where the magic starts. Not with a roll of the dice, but with the weird, messy process of deciding who you are in a world where gravity is just a suggestion and the chemistry teacher might be a literal demon.
Honestly, people overcomplicate this.
They treat character creation like they’re filing taxes. They get obsessed with the numbers. But Kids on Brooms, designed by Jonathan Gilmour and Doug Levandowski and published by Renegade Game Studios, isn't Dungeons & Dragons. It’s not about having a +5 to hit a goblin. It’s about feelings, tropes, and that specific brand of teenage angst that only happens when you’re balancing homework with a broomstick flight. If you mess up the sheet, you mess up the vibe.
The Stat Die: Why D20 Isn't Always King
Most RPGs give you a set of numbers. This game gives you shapes. Your Kids on Brooms character sheet uses a "step-die" system. You’ve got six stats: Fight, Flight, Brains, Brawn, Charm, and Grit. You assign a different die to each one: d4, d6, d8, d10, d12, and the big boy, the d20.
Here is the thing most people get wrong immediately: they put the d20 in "Fight" because they want to win.
Stop.
That’s a mistake. In a narrative-first game like this, being "bad" at something is actually where the fun happens. If you put that d4 into Charm, you aren't just a socially awkward kid; you're a kid who accidentally offends the Headmaster every time they open their mouth. That creates a story. That creates "Adversity Tokens," which are the literal currency of the game. Every time you fail a check because you rolled a 2 on a d4, you get a token. You can spend those later to succeed when it actually matters, like when you’re trying not to fall off your broom during the mid-term exams.
The d20 is your "best" trait. It’s what defines you. If you’re the "Brainy" kid, the d20 goes in Brains. It means you’re the one who remembers the obscure potion ingredient. But it also means you’re statistically more likely to have "Exploding Dice." If you roll the maximum number on any die, you roll again and add it. On a d20, that’s rare. On a d4? It happens all the time. There is a weird, chaotic beauty in the d4 exploding three times in a row and a scrawny kid suddenly out-muscling a troll.
Tropes Are Your Best Friend
The Kids on Brooms character sheet starts with a Trope. Think of this as your "class," but instead of "Wizard" or "Cleric," you’re choosing from things like the "Quiet Weirdo," the "Jock," or the "Teacher’s Pet."
Each trope comes with a pre-set distribution of those dice we just talked about.
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- The Popular Kid: High Charm, probably low Brains or Grit.
- The Outcast: High Grit, because they’ve had to deal with a lot of junk.
- The Academic: High Brains, obviously.
You don't have to use the pre-set tropes. You can go "Free-Form." Most experienced players I know eventually move to free-form because it lets them build something more nuanced. Maybe you’re a Jock who is secretly a genius but has zero Charm because you’re terrified of people finding out you like calculus. That’s a character. That’s something the GM (or Game Master) can actually work with.
The Broom and the Wand: Beyond the Stats
A lot of people ignore the equipment section of the sheet. Big mistake. Your broom and your wand aren't just flavor text; they have mechanical weight.
When you fill out your Kids on Brooms character sheet, you have to pick strengths for your broom. Is it "Reliable"? Does it have a "Tight Turning Radius"? Or maybe it's "Fast but Fickle." These choices dictate how you handle the "Broom Flight" checks. If you pick a broom that is "Old and Battered," you might get a bonus to Grit checks while riding it because you’re used to the struggle, but you’re going to have a hard time winning a drag race against the school rival.
The wand (or "Focus") is similar. You decide what it’s made of and what its quirk is. Maybe your wand is "Eager," giving you a bonus to initiative but making it harder to cast subtle magic. This isn't just crunch; it's personality. If your wand vibrates every time a secret is told nearby, that's a plot hook the GM is going to use against you. And you should want them to.
Motivation and Flaws: The Heart of the Sheet
If you look at the bottom of the Kids on Brooms character sheet, you’ll see spots for "Motivation," "Fears," and "Flaws."
In a game like Pathfinder, your "Flaw" might be a mechanical penalty to your Armor Class. In Kids on Brooms, your flaw is something like "Can't keep a secret" or "Terrified of heights."
This is where the human quality of the game shines.
You should choose a Fear that is likely to come up. If you're at a magical boarding school, "Fear of Owls" is a goldmine for comedy and drama. "Fear of the Dark" is a classic for a reason. When your character encounters their Fear, they take a penalty to their rolls. It forces you to roleplay. It forces the other players to step up and protect you. That’s the "Kids" part of Kids on Brooms. It’s about friendship and overcoming things together.
The "Snap" and the "Burn"
Magic in this game isn't about spell slots. You don't "run out" of magic. Instead, you have to deal with the physical and mental toll of casting. On your sheet, you’ll track how much you’re pushing yourself.
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Casting a spell requires a check. If you fail, you don't just "fizzle." You can choose to take "Adversity" or you can "Strain" yourself. If you push too hard, you might have a magical outburst. This is the "Snap." It’s messy. It’s dangerous. It might blow the doors off the library.
When you’re filling out the sheet, think about how your character handles stress. A character with high Grit might be able to handle more strain before they snap. A character with high Brains might try to calculate the exact amount of energy needed to avoid a catastrophe.
Why the Shared World Map Matters
Technically, the map isn't part of your individual Kids on Brooms character sheet, but you can't fill out your sheet without it. The game starts with a collaborative world-building session. You decide what the school is called, what the town is like, and what rumors are floating around.
Your character’s relationship to these places should be on your sheet.
- Do you have a "Safe Space" in the Forbidden Woods?
- Do you have a "Rival" in the Potions Lab?
- Is there a specific ghost you're actually friends with?
Writing these down makes the character feel like they exist in a real place, not just a vacuum of stats.
Common Misconceptions About the Character Sheet
I’ve seen a lot of players come from D&D and try to "win" Kids on Brooms. They look at the sheet and try to find the "broken" combo.
"If I take this trope and this broom, I’ll never fail a Flight check!"
Sure. You can do that. But then you’ll never get Adversity Tokens. And without tokens, when you finally face the big bad—the ancient lich or the corrupt Ministry official—you’ll have nothing to spend to boost your rolls. You’ll be stuck with whatever you roll on the die. In Kids on Brooms, failing early is the only way to win late.
The sheet is designed to reward failure. Embrace it.
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Actionable Next Steps for Your Next Session
If you’re about to start a game, don't just download a PDF and start ticking boxes. Do these things to make your character feel alive:
1. Pick a "Vice" that isn't evil.
Maybe your character is addicted to magical candy. Maybe they can’t stop gossiping. Put this in the "Flaws" section. It gives the GM something to dangle in front of you to distract you from the main quest.
2. Link your stats to your backstory.
Don't just put a d12 in Brains because you want to be smart. Decide why you're smart. Did you spend your childhood in a library because you didn't have friends? If so, your Charm should probably be a d4. The symmetry of the sheet should tell a story.
3. Name your broom something stupid.
Seriously. "The Silver Arrow" is boring. Name it "Barnaby." Or "The Splinter-Maker." It makes the equipment feel like a character in itself.
4. Leave some blank space.
You don't need to know everything about your character on day one. Leave the "Motivation" section a bit vague if you need to. Let the first session inform who the character actually is. Sometimes the "Jock" turns out to be the most sensitive person in the group after one encounter with a wounded hippogriff.
5. Focus on the "Trio" dynamic.
Look at the other players' Kids on Brooms character sheets. If everyone has high Brains, your group is going to struggle when things get physical. Try to fill the gaps. If there's no "Charm" character, take that d20 in Charm and be the face of the group.
The beauty of this system is its simplicity. The sheet is just a two-page document, usually. It doesn't have 50 skills or complex multiclassing rules. It’s just a snapshot of a kid trying to survive a magical adolescence. Treat the sheet like a diary, not a ledger. When you look back at it after a ten-session campaign, those scribbled notes in the margins and the pile of Adversity Tokens you’ve earned will mean a lot more than a high "Strength" score ever could.
Fill it out with intention. Roll the dice. See what happens when things go wrong. Because in this game, going wrong is exactly how the story gets right.
Practical Checklist for a Ready-to-Play Sheet:
- Stats: One of each die (d4 through d20) assigned to the six core traits.
- Trope: A clear archetype that defines your role in the group.
- Strengths/Flaws: At least two of each that provide narrative hooks.
- Broom/Wand: Specific traits and quirks defined.
- Adversity Tokens: Start with zero, but have a spot ready to track them.
- Relationships: At least one positive and one negative connection to other players or NPCs.
Setting up your Kids on Brooms character sheet this way ensures that even if you roll a 1 on your first three checks, you're still contributing to a story worth telling.