Love’s work
sometimes requires adventures
you’d never dare take on your own.
This poem is linked to Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' Tuesday Platform and Poets United's Poetry Pantry 442.
Liner
Notes for this Groove:
For anyone new to this blog, I ought
to point out that there is high geekery ahead. You have been warned.
My husband and I cemented our
college relationship with activities like dressing up in medieval garb and
playing Dungeons and Dragons together. He was among the first DMs I had (that’s
Dungeon Master to you non-geeks. Also that title has nothing to do with any sort of shades of gray, so get your mind out of the guttersš¤£). A DM’s job is to create an overarching story/plot that acts as a framework for players to interact with. Being a DM not only
requires a lot of creativity (to set up the details of the adventures – what
places might they visit, what is the main situation the players have to deal
with, who will they interact with in that situation and what are their
motivations, etc.) but it also requires patience. Because as meticulously as
they might set up their world, there’s always one giant variable – the players.
So on one of our recent morning
walks my husband told me about his latest gaming craziness. It seems one of the
player characters made some exceptionally terrible decisions and ended up in a
hell dimension. My husband expected the rest of his party (the other people
playing that particular game) to heroically sally forth and rescue their poor
friend. The party took a vote and decided on, “Nah, we have better things to
do.”
As you might imagine, the player
trapped in the hell dimension was miffed at the lack of concern. He went onto a
gaming website, describing his plight and got several people saying the plot
sounded interesting enough that they’d be willing to save him if they were
playing the game. My husband, who really did feel bad for the player as it was
one of his oldest friends, also commented and said he’d be willing to run a
side adventure if people we serious about saving the guy.
He got 40 responses (DM’s usually
run 3-5 people per game. 10 is a lot). The end up is my social media hating
husband now is in a Facebook group trying to herd 40 people he’s never met
before through a system that is random enough when only a tenth of that amount
plays. Well, 40 plus his one goofball friend who should have not messed with
mystical items that are known for randomly dealing out catastrophic problems.
What keeps me from laughing too hard
at my poor beloved’s plight is that I’ve often bit off more than I can chew
with some of my interests. For instance, when my writing partner and I were poking sharp sticks at my latest writing idea, she pointed out that I will
need to do no small amount of research to get things right. “Not a problem,” I
told her. I love reading up on new topics. Well, my “To Read for Research” list
is beginning to resemble starter hoard for a young dragon.
I foresee several afternoons with my husband and I sitting side by side with our laptops, healthy snacks placed between us (we’re old, we can’t pound back chips and soda like college kids anymore), sharing some of the highlights of what we’re currently working on and griping about these damn characters who have minds of their own. Fortunately for both us, we are both fond enough of our interests that we can handle it when they take us on odd tangents. James Boswell once wrote, “I am so fond of tea that I could write a whole dissertation on its virtues.” If he can manage a dissertation, I can do some reading on high renaissance weaponry and do a deep dive into steampunk. We’ll see how the husband manages a 40 person rescue crew.
I foresee several afternoons with my husband and I sitting side by side with our laptops, healthy snacks placed between us (we’re old, we can’t pound back chips and soda like college kids anymore), sharing some of the highlights of what we’re currently working on and griping about these damn characters who have minds of their own. Fortunately for both us, we are both fond enough of our interests that we can handle it when they take us on odd tangents. James Boswell once wrote, “I am so fond of tea that I could write a whole dissertation on its virtues.” If he can manage a dissertation, I can do some reading on high renaissance weaponry and do a deep dive into steampunk. We’ll see how the husband manages a 40 person rescue crew.
So dear Groovers, has what seemed
like a simple decision ever led you to bite off more than you could (or should)
chew? Or are any of you table top gamers out there? Tell me about a time the
game went in a completely crazy direction. Or just talk to me about what’s new
in your world. The comments section is open for conversation. As always, if you
have a cyber home you want to continue the conversation in, talk to me about it
in the comments and hit me with a link.
