While I was away from Fort Worth for the summer, a group of school friends that I had played a lot of video games with had been getting together weekly to play Dungeons and Dragons, the table-top turn-based role-playing game that every RPG can be traced back to. When I came back in the fall, I considered playing a practical joke on them by writing a letter to Westboro Baptist Church begging that they protest D&D night. I'd get a good laugh out of it, and I'd also be doing the world a lot of good by distracting Westboro from committing horrors in the name of God.
My plan fell apart when my friends invited me to play and I found that I really enjoyed D&D. Rarely have I ever found myself embarrassed of the things I enjoy, but I felt like a fool telling my beautiful girlfriend I spent Sunday nights as an elven psion whose name is derived from Fox Mulder's pen name on X-Files. I remembered talk in the late 80s and early 90s of some kids who had killed themselves because of D&D and the stigma that had been attached to everybody and their dungeonmaster.
I guess I was kind of ashamed because that was all I had known of Dungeons and Dragons. Once I identified my problem I was able to expel the stigma and have myself a fantastic time. I firmly believe that the world belongs to geeks who really own it. Anyone who has a problem can take it up with the orb I use to focus my mind powers into dangerous force beams. This is no idle threat. My orb is +3.
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