The First Cuts Are the Deepest - Part 1

An earnest retrospective on what can go terribly wrong in a crowdfunding campaign

Aug 02, 2025

The photo of a dimly lit bedroom showing an unmade bed with a white blanket twisted in the center, suggesting recent use. A pillow rests near the headboard, and soft light filters through a window in the background. — Photo by Alicia Christin Gerald

As we mentioned a couple of weeks ago, we’re thrilled to be hosting someone who knows far more about crowdfunding than we do. Someone who’s contributed to some of the most successful crowdfunding campaigns in the industry, and written material that helped make the fortune of brands that are still riding high today. Someone we genuinely like, because he’s a decent person in a field where it’s all too easy to run into egomaniacs. We’re talking about Max Castellani from Epic Party Games.

And who is this Max Castellani fellow, besides being a good-looking guy?

Bio

Max Castellani was born in Milan in the mid-eighties and raised on a heavy diet of 90s culture: cartoons, rock and heavy metal, fantasy novels, D&D, VHS tapes, comic books bought for a few coins at the newsstand, and video games. He studied philosophy while working in sales and marketing alongside his father, but most of his teenage and early 20s years were devoted to chasing a music career—writing songs, fronting bands, recording albums, and even landing a video on the national MTV. Fame as a recording artist never showed up (English language rock in Italy surely has its limits), but the stages were real, and the passion was too. Fatherhood eventually brought him back to earth, and he started playing clubs with cover bands as a side job to pay the rent.

However, when the 2020 pandemic hit, both his sales job and music gigs vanished almost overnight.

But tabletop RPGs didn’t. Up until then, they were barely starting to transition from hobby to unripe profession, but in that period, they took off—and brought him with them.

His first big break came with Brancalonia, which he co-designed and co-wrote. The game became an unexpected international hit, opening a secret door on a new path. He’s now a full-time game designer and co-founder of Epic Party, a game studio based between Italy and the UK. He lives on the Tuscan coast with his wife and two kids, far from the chaos of the big city and close to the sea—and within reach of good food, good wine, and a quieter kind of life.

Since Brancalonia, he’s helped Lightfish Games in launching and producing Farsight RPG, he co-designed and developed the highly successful Inferno – Dante’s Guide to Hell, returned on the The Empire Whacks Back, the first Brancalonia expansion, and later on joined CMON, one of industry's bigger companies at the time, as lead designer and developer for the RPG adaptation of Blood Rage, Ubisoft's Assassin’s Creed, and Massive Darkness: Dungeons of Shadowreach. After that high-profile, corporate adventure, he's now back in the freelance-independent zone, already working on new projects and collaborations he still can’t talk about.

He still plays music when he can—sometimes on proper stages, more often in small clubs on the beach, and that still pays a few bills. But today, his full-time focus is building games, raising kids, and trying to stay one creative step ahead of chaos.

The First Cuts Are the Deepest

As I write this, a new chapter of my life appears to be taking shape.

After a few years of high-level corporate job as lead game designer and developer, I'm getting back in the "indie publishing" ring, in the perilous freelance-land, as I valiantly (or stupidly!) challenge the Gods of multitasking and ubiquity by: preparing to launch a new RPG called CyberDark on Kickstarter with my old friends at Lightfish Games, leading the production and strategy of some other friends' upcoming crowdfunding campaign, designing international, third-party, high-profile roleplaying games I can't yet discuss, laying the foundation for partnerships and collaborations with local publishers, and pitching further tabletop games to publishers all around the globe.

Honestly? I don't know how these new projects will turn out, nor if I will be able to handle them all. Indeed, in the midst of the overall excitement, I find some things easier now. Others remain messy, though, despite everything I've supposedly learned. Actually, I sometimes find myself doubting the things I think I've learned.

So, due to NDAs and unspeakable-threats, the one project I can discuss is CyberDark RPG, and I will. In fact, between now and launch, I'd like to take you with me—but first, in order to get a better picture, I'd like to walk you through the moments that shaped me as a so-called creator.

A Little Premise

I'm not sure if that will reveal to be the better strategy in terms of self-branding, but I'd like to discuss both what went right and what went wrong – or very wrong – The shortcuts I regret. The lessons I paid for. The ones I'm still paying for. And the strange way hope and chance keep showing up at my door to push me forward.

Because if there's one thing I've learned from all this, it's that successful hits don't really heal the cuts, but they sometimes teach you how to live with them.

First things first

Before we dive in, I want to address something the far-too-kind Oddplan team said when introducing me here. They mentioned I've raised "more money than they've collectively earned in their lives”. A hell of a compliment, indeed—but like most good punchlines, it goes a bit far from the truth, and it might benefit from a little context.

Yes, I've worked on some big campaigns. Brancalonia, Farsight, Inferno – Dante's Guide to Hell, Massive Darkness: Dungeons of Shadowreach, Assassin's Creed – The Official RPG.. Six-figure, sometimes seven-figure projects. But I wasn't the sole creator or the only name on the box—and no, I didn't pocket that money (though, believe me, I wouldn't have minded!).

That said, I was there—often front and center. I designed the games, gave interviews about them, demoed and presented them at conventions. And behind the scenes, I wore a whole lot of different hats: designer, developer, writer, marketing operative, campaign manager, co-producer, copywriter, strategist, agent (kind of!), community lead, and maybe a couple more.

I didn't own those campaigns, but I helped shape them. Sometimes in visible ways, sometimes ninja-ways, but always learning, either by doing, watching, studying, or diving (a few times crashing!) headfirst into things I didn't yet understand.

So no, I did not raise millions. But I was part of the teams behind the projects that did.

And that’s why this brief series of guest-articles won’t be about claiming credit. It's not meant to be a guide, or a hero story, or some guru-from-Dubai roadmap to success. It's a lived-through, worked-for, still-learning interpretation of what crowdfunding feels like from the inside—not just when it works, but especially when it doesn't, or again when it does but in ways you wouldn't have expected.

In fact, before the glitters and claps of the awards and the big-name jobs, I tried doing it the DIY-way, and - surprise, surprise - it didn't go the way I had hoped nor planned (providing I even had a plan!).

Shattered Beginnings

It's a strange feeling to write this. See, over the past few years, I've gone from a hobby to a passion project, to freelance work, to full-time, bill-paying job as a professional in the international tabletop industry.

However, at the outset, during my initial attempts at indie publishing through crowdfunding, I doubt anyone would've bet on a similar outcome.

The first game I ever Kickstarted from behind the curtains was Shattered Tower. I joined midstream to help a friend—who'd later become my long-term creative partner—with his thing.

I didn't know much about the industry back then, and I knew pretty much nothing about crowdfunding. Or publishing. Or production. But I was open to taking a ride for an adventure, and I loved it!

The project was successful, raising just over 10,000 euros, which, back then, sounded like a lot to somebody who "knew pretty much nothing about crowdfunding. Or publishing. Or production".

One thing quickly became obvious, though: that "lot" of money? Not even close to the needed amount to produce the game we had promised. (Curious to understand how that happened? Check out this earlier article "why we don't like crowdfunding - Part 1"—agree or not, the economic analysis is pure gold!)

Anyway, while we worked hard to complete the game's design and development, while testing it, and invested the necessary funds in commissioning artworks, translating the game, and starting the printing and delivery process, our communication with the community was way beyond lacking, and it cost us lots of harsh comments and frustration.

Can two guys, one of which with a 9-to-5 day job and a couple of toddlers, manage a Kickstarter post campaign while also doing all the rest?

Nothing’s impossible, but, if there’s one thing I’ve learned its: no, they cannot. Also, for as much as they inject effort and passion into the project, they’re going to be lacking on lots of other aspects, believe me.

Anyway, we managed to deliver the game in its PDF version. We even printed and shipped the Italian physical edition. But what about the English print version? Still undelivered. Still stuck in that place where miscalculated budget, time, and logistics go to mercilessly die.

If one were indulgent, one could say that technically backers got the game. I mean, Shattered Tower RPG exists. It’s out there. It's fully playable. But the physical artifact—the book we promised—never arrived for part of our audience.

And that cut—Shattered Tower—still bleeds. But it’s not the only one. There’s more to this story.

More chaos, more choices I’d do differently now. Another game. Another chance. Another storm we thought we could weather. But that’s for next time.

In Part II, I’ll tell you what happened with First Kings and how, just when we thought we’d learned from our first scars—we earned a few new ones.

See you there.

We’ll be back in a couple of weeks with the second part of our in-depth look at why crowdfunding isn’t for everyone. At the end of the month, we’ll wrap up the first part of Max’s story about his early days with Kickstarter.

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