Standard Monday morning. I was outside smoking a cigarette. One of my coworkers asked what I did over the weekend.
I played Dungeons and Dragons with the girls on Sunday.
I didn’t explain what D&D was and she wasn’t confused by my response. Generally speaking, most people are aware that it’s some sort of game.
With the recent ending of our first campaign, I have reflected back on my first exposure to RPGs. Obviously it was nothing compared to how the girls learned to play. At their disposal was an experienced Dungeon Master that could answer whatever questions came up and a person with a useless amount of trivial knowledge of most things “geek.”
I remember playing with my Clash of the Titans action figures in the park. I remember discovering Dragon’s Lair for the first time in the smoke-filled arcade of Golfland. I remember watching the silly Dungeons and Dragons cartoon on Saturday mornings a few months later. More importantly, I also remember that at this point I didn’t know what Dungeons and Dragons really was, aside from the fact that I was not allowed to play it.
So while I’ve stated that no one games in a vacuum, how the hell did I learn how to play Dungeons and Dragons, let alone be the Dungeon Master without anyone to show me?
The religious beliefs of those around me were more interested in keeping me on the straight and narrow path, so how did I succumb to the vile darkness of satan’s game?
Did I just grab a copy of Ian Livingstone’s Dicing with Dragons and say, “Oh, got it.”
Well, not exactly.