I got my twelve sided die

August 14, 2006

There are these missionaries in town – Mennonite I think, but they could be Mormon – that have a “Dungeons and Dragons” group. They live next door to John, we see them in passing and around town, or we’ll unexpectedly “drop-in to say hi” when John thinks they might be cooking something good. Twice a month a few other missionaries come to town for an evening of the role playing game “Dungeons and Dragons.” John and I have been invited. And now the question is: why is the prospect of playing “Dungeons and Dragons” with missionaries tempting? Why is my first reaction to the D&D group not complete aversion? Five months in Albania, it seems, has brought out some long-suppressed dork tendencies.

I will now proceed to negate any and all chances I had of getting married.

Dungeons and Dragons and I have a brief history. There was a time, around 1990, that I badly wanted to play this game. I mean I was nine, still getting over the Dinosaur obsession, I had friend who talked about all the game all the time, and, it was called “Dungeons and Dragons.” This sounded cool and I wanted in on the action. My dad and I made a few scouting trips to Rider’s Hobby Shop, discovering that there is probably more literature on D&D than there is on the American Civil War. We learned that there is an intimidating amount of stuff this game requires, and – for all the books, guides, magazines, and other materials – it was damningly unclear how one actually played this game. This D&D cult was one that was not going to be easy to join. I think my Dad was happy this was the case.

The thing with these role-playing games is that one doesn’t simply go to the store, open the box, press the Pop-O-Matic bubble and move a little race car or top hat. These games exist in some abstract state. I don’t know if there is a defined beginning and end to the game. I don’t think there is an objective. There is no way to define victory. The closest analogy to D&D may be the “War on Terrorism.” From what I’ve seen, it resembles a Ouija Board séance. People sit around, while the designated instigator makes up some kind of story. The others consider the scenario, at one point a 76-sided dice is rolled a few times, and the ringleader declares whether or not they killed the thing that he just imagined. Then they do it again,…for I think about twelve or thirteen hours. There’s also graph paper involved, but I don’t know why. That’s the game.

This is a game that is not suited to me. I’m set in my ways. I like know what’s coming at me. I was not into improvising with my Legos (the directions clearly show how the thing was supposed to be built, and that’s the only thing you may build with them. You want to build a spaceship? Then you have to go buy the spaceship set). I don’t like imagining a game. I want something concrete in front of me, something with little squares on a board, and clearly defined rules.

So my fling with Dungeons and Dragons came and went. I did at one point own a “starter-kit” that contained a couple of D&D guidebooks. They had a cool picture on the cover, but were about as interesting to read as the dictionary. But still, reeling it in now, I’m tempted to take the missionaries up on their offer and join them for an evening of Fanta soda and Dungeons and Dragons. Clearly, I need: a) a girlfriend; b) a hobby; c) general regard for the impression people may have of me; and, d) a girlfriend.