Turning Back the Dark

"OK, so, everyone ready?"

The four adolescents are fidgety. I know the body language. It's the "adult is watching" thing.

The setup is less than ideal. We're wedged into a corner of Tyler's living room. It's a small wooden kitchen-size table. It's cramped. There's nowhere for all my stuff.

My question goes unanswered. I lift the cloth off the table. A small set of ruins. A graveyard wall, dripping with old vines and grey dust. Tombstones. Four prone, poorly painted 28mm pewter figures.

I have their attention, at least for a moment. "Cool," gasps Cindy. Cindy's been utterly silent during the last half hour of shaking hands, kicking the moms out, setting stuff up. Now, she's almost giddy.

I try and wipe the smile off my face. Making eye contact with each of them in turn, I begin.

"It's dark. You're cold. Those are the first two things you realize. Your head hurts."

I pause for effect. They kids look at each other, a bit in shock. They're not smiling. They're confused.

"Uh, and ...?" starts Tyler. He's the proto-Rabbit. Bad hair, pale white skin, smart, geeky.

I remain silent.

"Uh, I stand up."

I keep my face as immobile as possible, fighting back a grin. "You can't. You go to push yourself up, and you find that your arms are numb. Your hands are tied behind your back, and your feet are tied together."

"Where are we?" asks Becca.

"You have no idea. It's dark. It's cold. You're wet. Your clothes are sticking to you."

Cindy scans through her character sheet. She's the Cleric, the only spell caster, but she has no idea what she can do. "Um, can I cast light or something?"

I tell her she'll have to make a will saving throw to overcome her fear. "Why?"

"Because suddenly you know where you are. You're in the Necropolis."

I can see her working through the word "Necropolis" in her head. She looks at the minis, the graveyard pieces.

"After dark."

And I know I have her. Somewhere in her eyes, I can tell I've kicked a fear reflex into gear. Not a big one. It's not a full-on Steven King moment.

My niece breaks the silence. "I want to listen. Is that a check?" She's very into the mechanics. She wants to roll dice for everything.

"Yeah Becca, you can roll to listen." 20. First dice roll of the game, and it's a natural 20. Plus she's maxed out her listen skill.

"You hear something from behind you -- above your head as your lying down. It's far away. It sounds like wet leaves and breathing."

Boom. I have her too. I can see it. Not much, and not something she'd ever admit to, but she sits up a little straighter.

Tyler, rules-lawyer in training, snaps into gamer mode and works the problem. "OK, escape artist check. I want to get out of the ropes." He does. He runs around and unties the strangers in the graveyard with him. They make casual introductions. Then the zombies come shuffling into view.

Victory is mine. The promise of three 8-hit-point, slow-moving zombies has them crapping their pants. Cindy looks me right in the eye -- actual eye contact from an adolescent -- and pleads. "What can I do?"

"Taina," I start. I refuse to address players by anything other than their character names during a game. "You are strong with Lothian. Simply brandishing the silver Ankh around your neck can strike fear into evil. And should that fail, you can channel his power into the weapons you carry, the words you speak, or the actions of your fellows."

At this point I know I've crossed a line. Ten minutes ago I was "Becca's weird 40-year-old bald uncle." Now I'm this freaky dude talking like a B-movie narrator. There's substantial risk that the table will burst out in laughter, and I will know the shame that only someone under the age of 18 can levy upon an adult. But I make my "DM's an idiot" saving throw and we slide into awesomeness.

Cindy's otherwise meek eyes fill with a spark of power. She brandishes her imaginary holy symbol and shouts, "Back!" Desperate to reward her efforts, I consider "rolling" for her behind the screen so she can be successful in turning these undead fiends back. But part of this exercise is teaching the kids, Tyler in particular, how to run the game -- not just the storytelling, but the rules too. I explain the process of turning undead. Either my real God or her imaginary one looks down kindly, and she succeeds.

More than Tiana the Cleric, it's Cindy who -- just for a moment -- shines bright in the darkness.

This single moment is why I played role-playing games as a kid, and why my sister, and the moms of these other kids, approached me to walk them through a "real" game of D&D. Tyler and Cindy's mom was clear -- RPG's were important to her growing up. Her unspoken subtext was that as a parent, it was likely impossible to break down the barriers between her and her children that are required to actually be a parent. I know this feeling. I feel it every day.

For this one brief, and likely fleeting moment, Cindy has realized that she doesn't have to live in anyone's shadow. That she can hold aloft her own holy symbol and drive back what demons may come. In this tiny sliver of time, she is more important than her well-meaning, smart, but forever older, older brother. More important than the zombies, and more important than this 40-year-old stranger.

The next three hours are awesome, in the way that only the reliving of youth for an old man can be. Tyler has his moments where his knowledge of the game is vindicated. Becca has her moments where her desperate need to roll dice pays off. James, the shy one who meekly desired to play a dwarf fighter, stands up and gives a barbaric "Yawp!" as he cleaves a dastardly assassin in twain with a single critical hit.

But me? I'll remember Cindy. And you can be damned sure I'll be seeing these kids again.

Comments

Brilliant, Rabbit. It'd be great if you could make this into a series!

Ride that dog, you monkey! RIDE IT!

Man, I want to play your campaign.

Can I send my kids to you when they're old enough? You could start a D&D academy, with courses like "How NOT to MetaGame" and "Lawful Good, not Lawful Stupid" and "Monty Haul Gaming and You".

Of course, normal life would be reversed and the kids would get picked more the less geeky they were.

"Taina," I start. I refuse to address players by anything other than their character names during a game. "You are strong with Lothian. Simply brandishing the silver Ankh around your neck can strike fear into evil. And should that fail, you can channel his power into the weapons you carry, the words you speak, or the actions of your fellows."

...and that's where you lost me. I was a geeky teenager, but even the teenage me would have thrown out a sarcastic 'f*ck off!' at that point.

Where do you find these children? It's like you live in some episode of The Waltons.

I live in the middle of nowhere surrounded by hippies. Plus they're 11-13, not 16. They're snarkiness is still in training.

Ahh, that explains it. The sandals and mung bean crowd, eh?

FWIW, when I was 7 I did a TV advert and told the director to f*ck off. It's not about being snarky, it's about calling people on their nonsense.

But apart from that diversion into Ed Wood territory (and the 'real God bit', not wanting to go all P&C here) you sound like an excellent GM.

And this article has made me think about trying out a D&D night run by an acquaintance of mine.

1Dgaf wrote:

Ahh, that explains it. The sandals and mung bean crowd, eh?

FWIW, when I was 7 I did a TV advert and told the director to f*ck off. It's not about being snarky, it's about calling people on their nonsense.

But apart from that diversion into Ed Wood territory (and the 'real God bit', not wanting to go all P&C here) you sound like an excellent GM.

And this article has made me think about trying out a D&D night run by an acquaintance of mine.

It's D&D though. As with all tabletop RPGs, it's already cheesy before you get into it. Any cheesiness from that point should be accepted, even loved.

Rabbit, awesome tale. Continue to amaze us with your talents.

1Dgaf wrote:

FWIW, when I was 7 I did a TV advert and told the director to f*ck off. It's not about being snarky, it's about calling people on their nonsense.

Have you tried that out on that jackass who built your PC yet? /derail

Great article, rabbit. I hope some day I get the chance to have that experience.

Anime,

Not sure about that. There's knowing-cheesiness. That's understandable and somewhat fun. But I think that gaming, especially RPGs, attract people that aren't knowingly being cheesy. I doubt rabbit is deluded, but there are plenty that are.

Anyway, he made a brave choice picking the cheesy angle with those kids. THey enjoyed it, so it worked. But when his article started with him building a sense of tension. Playing with people's emotions.

If it were a film, it would be about suspense and darkness. Forboding and unease. But then a new director comes along and sticks in scene with a cod-metal soundtrack, an American flag flying and a story about empowerment and group hugs.

Maybe I'm just to old to appreciate what they did -- but I'd be interested to see what happens if he takes a consistently sinister and slightly dour next time.

Great article, Julian. May any children I have be as good sports as the ones you have around you.

Somehow I doubt I would make my "save versus DM is an idiot" roll.

My friend had that original D&D Starter set. You know the handpainted looking box with the adventurers in the foreground pointing at a red dragon sitting atop a mound of treasure in the background. It had the manual with the blue and white printed cover. The original from the mid 70's. Chainmail pamplets were still advertised on the brochure inside.

I convinced my parents to buy me a copy. I fell in love with it, the rulebook itself had a magic to it. Just reading over the rules again and again, filled my head with potential adventures and gave me an adrenaline rush of imagination. I owe D&D a lot in some ways. My grades improved because of a newfound love of reading, more interest in mathematics and history, and a greater attention to detail.

I found my original D&D rulebook a few years ago while rummaging in the cellar of my parents house. Actually everything in my AD&D collection was still there, organized just as I had left it. DM Guide, Players Handbook, Monster Manual 1 and 2, Fiend Folio, and the modules. But the one item that really grabbed me as I rifled my fingers through the box, was the one that started it all, the original D&D rulebook. It still had that same magic, a charge of energy and anticipation of adventure as i held it in my hands and looked at the faded blue/white image on its cover. It was that same magic as when I was a kid. I dont remember if I opened it up to look through though, almost afraid the adult me might dispel the rare moment of direct connection with the youthful me.

On my dresser today, sits the new AD&D 3.5 Starter set, full of its mass produced miniatures and dungeon tiles. I am thinking of reading it over to try a session with my son. I have to admit, the initial charge of magic just doesnt feel like its there for me. I think about going back to the original rules... my rules, but I'm sure D20 is probably a much better gaming system nowadays.

I remember these days well. I never had an older mentor in D&D though. It was more being introduced to it by random kids in Middle School who later became rather good friends of mine. So the storytelling was amateur but it was still one heck of a ride. I experienced a lot of different RPG Table Top games after that but in the end I found D&D something I could go back to when I was older in H.S. Heck I even played a campaign just a few years ago. The true immersion power of roleplaying games done correctly is a wonderful thing and such a huge boon to the imagination of children to adults. I think we all need that break from reality from time to time. Isn't that why we play computer games? Great story and I look forward to the next installment.

Great article, rabbit. I was hoping there would be a follow-up to the previous. And I'm with Jeb, a series would be cool even though I've never played D&D in my life.

1Dgaf wrote:

If it were a film, it would be about suspense and darkness. Forboding and unease. But then a new director comes along and sticks in scene with a cod-metal soundtrack, an American flag flying and a story about empowerment and group hugs.

I'd pay to see this movie. Where does the queue start?

I love it! It's so hard for them to learn that it seems these days, and it's so great you get to be there for her. How do you up that DM-idiocy save skill? I need to badly.

That bit about the kid's parents though kind of made me cringe. I don't understand. If it was important to her, why did she not step in and share it with them once they found it on their own? There doesn't have to be that wall there. Or maybe I'm just even more weird than I thought.

Rabbit, you're good to read.

1Dgaf wrote:

"Taina," I start. I refuse to address players by anything other than their character names during a game. "You are strong with Lothian. Simply brandishing the silver Ankh around your neck can strike fear into evil. And should that fail, you can channel his power into the weapons you carry, the words you speak, or the actions of your fellows."

...and that's where you lost me.

Ditto, with no disrespect to the otherwise entertaining article. I was a nerd's nerd at 12 years old, and I wouldn't disrespect you by bursting into laughter, but I would in fact avoid a session like that in the future because this sort of monologue from an older adult would creep me out. A little.

P.S. Nice choice of name, btw - "Taina" means "Mystery/Secret" in Russian.

Hey man, I knew I was going over the top, and I didn't act like that all day (grin).

Roleplay romantics vs. snarky realists? Sounds like a standard D&D table to me!

Lightning flashed over the rain-slick tombstones, highlighting the stumbling figures slowly moving forward to claim their prize.

"What do we do?!" Tiana's wavering voice filtered through the wetness.

"We stand our ground, cleric." The response came almost subconsiously from the Dwarf, the weighty axe shifting uneasily in his hands as he lifted his shoulders.

The others steadied themselves, ready for the slow death that approached.

"FOOLS!" Thunder crashed, remnants of the angry flashes of the gods. The necromancer stood atop the hill.

"Your souls are already mine!" Rabbitious Clay's laughter echoed down the slope to the ears of the brave group of heroes, their eyes wide in fear and comprehension.

lol. You can have my job!

Nice read there Rabbit. I tried once to get my 2 kids to play and it went down in a ball of fire. They started arguing instead of working together. I may try again in a few months and actually perhaps try out my own adventure on them. You guys want a geeky moment? -I remember the first kills my father and I got when my brother was DM`ing -a couple of Stirges flying down the hallway in the search of the Unknown starter dungeon. Magic missle and an arrow killed them.

Grade Awesome. It's your Shoot Club, you really should do a series. And Duoae can do the Fiction version.

That was awesome, I love stories like this! At the risk of drawing up my old (and poor) writing, I did a write-up about a D&D campaign Gaald, Karla and I were in with a local couple. I miss those games.

rabbit wrote:

lol. You can have my job!

LOL, flattery will get you everywhere...

I once had the idea of playing out a campaign in Heroquest or another game similar to that and just writing a story/short novel surrounding the dice throws...

Duoae wrote:
rabbit wrote:

lol. You can have my job!

LOL, flattery will get you everywhere...

I once had the idea of playing out a campaign in Heroquest or another game similar to that and just writing a story/short novel surrounding the dice throws...

That's where all of Raymond Feist's stuff came from originally. Delicious.

I really don't think I've ever read anything which connected with me like this. It's stunning how authentic your description of a DMs position is - eventhough my experiences as a DM aren't really that impressive, I sit with a smirk on my face thinking "I wish my sessions were that good".

Thanks DreadAle. That means a lot to me, especially coming from a grinder. Really.

wordsmythe wrote:
Duoae wrote:
rabbit wrote:

lol. You can have my job!

LOL, flattery will get you everywhere...

I once had the idea of playing out a campaign in Heroquest or another game similar to that and just writing a story/short novel surrounding the dice throws...

That's where all of Raymond Feist's stuff came from originally. Delicious.

It can go the other way, though... Gary Gygax his own self wrote the "Gord the Rogue" series based on a campaign he was in, and while it's entertaining, the game mechanics kept poking through for me. Also, it seemed like the ultimate Monty Haul campaign.

Stephen Erikson's fantasy novels are based on the tabletop RPG game he used to run.

Folklore wrote:

it seemed like the ultimate Monty Haul campaign.

What's wrong with that!?