D&D – for when life is ‘dragon’ on

Paul, the apostle, said – 1 Corinthians 13:11 – “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.”

Hmm. I wonder what Paul would think of a 68-year-old man, after about a 40-year absence, taking up Dungeons and Dragons again?

In my defense, it really wasn’t me (uh huh, sure). It was my middle son. He came up with the reboot as a way to get family and friends together. I really didn’t want to play (uh huh, sure) but he drew me in with the call of little miniatures … “lions and tigers and dwarves, oh my” … and dice upgrades and selections that have vastly improved over what we used to use. He had me at “liquid core.” 

“They’re so cool! Mesmerizing. They move when you turn them over and over and…”

“Uh dad. Would you just roll them already?”  

Anyway, don’t judge me. 

One, I’m young at heart. I feel like I’m 40. (Except when I get up in the morning and when I’m driving to work and when I’m sitting at my desk and when I get up from my desk and when I get home at night and when I go to bed and when I have to get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom and when I have to get up in the middle of the night and go to the bathroom and when I have to get up … Other than that, I’m good.) 

Two, Dungeons and Dragons is over 50 years old, and according to the Internet, all those others who used to play in their 30s and 40s still play in their 70s and 80s.

One of those random gramps, smacking his lips and gums: “Well sonny. Back when I used to play we used to have to walk 10 miles in the snow in 110-degree heat while gnats the size of pigeons (which is coincidentally the same size they are today) tried to eat us alive (which is coincidentally what they try to do today), just to get down the street where our dungeon master buddy lived. We carved our dice out of a 100-foot oak tree we cut down with a butter knife and our characters, dragons and wyrmlings and giants were real. We caught them and kept them in cages until it was time to play.”

Three, I’ve discovered I’ve still got some lessons to teach them:

Don’t take things so serious. Case in point. We were on a quest outside the city walls to finish a map for a military commander. We got to an intersection with a decision to go left, right or straight ahead. I rolled my perception dice to look down the road to the right. It revealed a huge spider web covering the entire road.

“I’m going to shoot that spider web with one of my arrows,” I said, excitedly. You would have thought I had “literally” signed their death warrant. Like what was going to happen as a result would actually happen in real life. I mean role playing is one thing, but their panicked voices didn’t sound like acting. “Don’t be so serious,” I said. “It’s a game. Have fun.” I shot the spiderweb.

“Teamwork makes the dream work.” (My wife would literally punch me for that. She hates that saying.) When there’s a danger, a crisis, circumstances where someone is facing insurmountable odds – as in the two giant spiders that came out when I shot the web – it’s always best faced with friends and/or family. (In a game or in real life.) Not to leave them to stand alone because you have high-tailed it in the opposite direction. (Which is what they all did.)

Dads still rule! I, my “tiefling” cleric character, took on those spiders. They stuck me in their webs a couple of times but I, with my magic short sword and my holy symbol in hand, eventually ran one of them off like a scared chicken. The other “we” killed once my unwavering courage finally took hold and inspired them to come back and join in. (And bonus. I brought my grandson back to life when he got poisoned and died.)

“Put away childish things.”

Okay Paul, but just until next Saturday when I investigate that wagon that was just parked there in the woods. I’m sure that gray goo hanging from the trees is a warning, but what the heck, life is too short, “the family that plays together stays together” and there are still lessons that can only be learned the hard way.

“I’m going to shoot an arrow into those trees.”