I think I’ve mentioned before how I got into gaming. I was ten years old. My sister Laura got the D&D Basic Boxed set – the one with the cool Erol Otus cover – and started playing the game with some of her friends. I already loved fantasy books, like the Hobbit and the Chronicles of Prydain, and I saw how much Laura enjoyed the game. Every time my dad drove her home from a game, she was smiling. I knew the game was something I wanted to play.
So I borrowed the rulebook. I read the rules. I photocopied a character sheet at the local library. And I rolled up an elf.
After the sort of annoying pestering that younger brothers are known for, I got to join up with my sister’s gaming group. The first adventure that my elf (made with the Basic D&D rules) got to go on was “Expedition of the Barrier Peaks” (an AD&D First Edition game). As I recall, the DM – whose name, unfortunately, I don’t remember – looked over my character sheet, did some quick leveling-up, gave my elf some magic items, and told me everything would be fine.
(The gaming philosophy “Rules As Written” was never the strong point of this group, as you can tell.)
“Barrier Peaks” didn’t disappoint. I remember facing vegepygmies, casting magic missiles at mind flayers, almost getting eaten by a froghemoth … and getting a laser gun. The adventure was filled with all sorts of awesome.
I was hooked.
From “Expedition”, we went to visit some giants, then some drow, then some kuo-toa, in the massively connected GDQ series of modules. And then we started all over again in a sleepy town called Saltmarsh. That took the better part of a year, maybe longer. It’s safe to say those adventures were a big part of my life, and certainly influence the games I write – and play – today, over 25 years later.
But they aren’t why I write.
Castle Amber is the reason.
I’d been playing D&D for a year or two. My friend Alison – who I’d known since kindergarten – also had gotten into D&D, even though we never really played much in the same groups back in those days. (That came later, in high school and during summer breaks in college.) So we took to playing the game at times with just the two of us at the gaming table (or the beanbag chairs, as the case might be). One of us would DM, and the other would run a multitude of characters. It always seemed to work.
One of the modules we played was “Castle Amber”, which is a strange and wonderful adventure in its own right. It features all of the mad Amber family, trapped within the walls of the castle until a curse can be broken. Years later, I know all the details of the module to a fault. But what I remember from playing the adventure so many years ago is Alison, providing the voices and personalities to all the villains and monsters in the story. I remember the sense of awe and wonder as my characters explored the castle, each room holding wondrous or terrible things … or wondrous and terrible things, as they case may be. I remember the sense of pure joy that I got from each moment I spent in “Castle Amber” … it’s one of my favorite moments in my life, and something I’ll never forget.
All the adventures I’ve played since then, or run, or written … they’re about trying to make moments of joy happen like that again. Not re-create them, mind you. I know that’ll never happen. As an adult, I know I could never recapture that pure happiness that I had when I was eleven or twelve. But I know the sort of joy that a great game can bring, and in those moments when you can find them – even though they’re usually few and far between – they are wonderful to behold.
It’s why I write. Not for money (though I certainly don’t mind if someone chooses to pay me for my words), but for the joy of it. I can find it in those small hours of the morning when I’m struggling to find the perfect word, or seeing a small moment I dreamed about unfold at a gaming table. When these moments happen, they’re something that you wouldn’t trade for all the world. At least I wouldn’t.
Lately, the business end of writing has sapped away a lot of that joy. I don’t think that it’s something intentional, but nonetheless, from my perspective, that’s what I feel. And it’s something that I’ve let happen, to an extent.
Freelancing for gaming companies over the past few years on a professional basis has been a great opportunity. I’ve gotten to write a lot of things I never would’ve thought possible when I was ten years old, rolling up an elf at the kitchen table. More importantly, I’ve gotten to meet a lot of new friends, and reconnect with some old ones as well.
But there have been times I’ve forgotten why I’ve gotten into writing in the first place. That’s led to some less-than-desirable situations, and turned writing into, well, a business. Which is not why I write. Not at all.
So I’ve spent the past few weeks contemplating what I’d like to do, and how I’d like to do it … or if I even wanted to do it anymore. And I decided a few things. After a lot of thinking, I know that if I continue freelancing, I need to do a better job evaluating and handling the projects that come my way. I know that I need to say “no” more often than I do.
Other than that, I don’t really have a lot of answers as of yet … but there’s one thing I definitely know, something that need to be a purpose rather than an afterthought.
It’s time to look for those moments of joy again. Last night, I ran a Warhammer adventure for some friends. Was it the best adventure I’ve ever written, or run? No – not by a long shot. But there were some great roleplaying moments by the players as they investigated weird events at a theatre. There were some tense moments when they fought a pair of giant snow snakes. And there were some funny moments involving haggling for pigs and sheep, and some snide in-character remarks about a grimoire that just made me laugh.
It was an adventure that had those moments that I always hope to find.
Thank you – to everyone – who’s made such moments possible in the past. And who continue to do so today, and hopefully will continue to do so down the road.
Especially to Alison, who took me on that long-ago trip to Castle Amber.
And to John, Eric, and Rick, who have been around for so many other great moments over the years.
I’ll do my best to find more of these moments in the months and years to come … and I hope to share them with you.
