Ah, the idle, mis-spent days of youth. Reading science fiction, doing calculus for fun, programming with punch cards and Fortran 77.

The good old days. And, on the weekends, a rousing four or five hours of clashing swords, drinking adult beverages like Pepsi, or Mountain Dew, and spending time with some of the best people I have ever known.

Sure, we had idiosyncrasies.

Some of us were even full-fledged members of the SCA who made our own chain mail, drank mead, and called girls 'wenches', at least when there were not any 'maidens' in the room.

But, Mr. Gygax transcended the more pedestrian board games, such as "Starship Troopers" or "Napoleonic Wars" by performing a parlor trick of the mind - allowing the players of D&D to take on a persona that maybe was more Freudian than real.

A player could be 'chaotic' or 'bad' and that was GOOD.

Because, at the end of the '70's, with disco breathing its last, and the huge national toll Vietnam had wrought on us, this simple playful escapist game allowed millions of us to share a space that was at once real, and unreal.

I remember the dies, the map-making, the good-natured ribbing. I also remember the little internecine squabbles, the plotting, the fun little coalitions that arose from week to week.

We could hardly wait to play in some games, and in others, we could hardly wait to leave. It mimicked life in many ways, to be sitting at a table where your girlfriend plotted the death of your character with the man she would eventually leave you for. It taught some interesting lessons about loyalty.

It also led to some really amazing fights between dungeonmasters and their wives, who would tolerate the play until the wee hours, week after week, until finally tiring of the whole thing.

Yep, that gave a very eye-opening perspective on marriage and relationships as well. One I personally failed to heed, as I battle my own dragon decades later.

I still played D&D after the demise of my relationship, and computers eventually became my stock in trade, it's true. But the geekiness or nerdom of being intelligent had little to do with the game attracting me.

It was most certainly the creation of worlds, the ability for alternate realities, that cemented my love for a good dungeon.

But, I digress, from the intent of my tale, which is merely to thank Mr. Gygax for introducing me and many of my cohorts to magical hours of fun and cameraderie.

In this life, I have rolled many a ten or twelve sided dice and come up snake eyes. I never 'died', for real, as it turned out. I never needed to be 'resurrected' by my friends in a raiding party, in 'real' life.

But, many of the same friends with whom I played were the same ones who came to my rousing aid when I did roll those bad dice, over the years.

Being able to put some perspective on that is something for which I have D&D to thank.

Play on, Gary!

Bow Howdy