Table Top Games: The Quest To D&D

Dungeons and Dragons has always taken a beating from the more "socially acceptable" circles of hobbyists, such as sports fans, despite both groups exhibiting the exact same behaviour. Both groups avidly follow a specific activity, discuss it at length with their friends, arrange times and dedicate days to come together to enjoy said activity and even mirror the figures of each activity by dressing up to resemble them, only, DnD players can make do with a bed sheet and a lampshade to be The Great Wizard Ooloo, whereas sports fans seem completely willing to pay upwards of £40 for a slightly different shirt/shoes/vest/cup every season.

This discrimination is question something that I have never understood. But that is just another example of the irritating and pervasive trend of 'geek/nerd bashing' that is thankfully starting to reverse as the bespectacled and pocket-protected amongst us rise up to assert themselves as a valued and relevant section of pop culture.

I have long considered myself to be firmly rooted at the Indoor end of the Indoor-to-Outdoor activities spectrum. All that running around after a round thing couldn't even come close to the enjoyment of drawing pleasure from the rolling of several hexahedrons and giggling about the doom that would spell for your opponent. However, I always considered Dungeons and Dragons to be 'too nerdy' for me. Me, the child who would regularly wander out from his room high as a kite after spending six solid hours stooped over a small figurine, paintbrush in hand, tongue protruding resolutely from the side of his mouth, determined to make sure that the colour tones on the shield of his hero would be just so.

I was a serious table top gamer between the ages of 13-17, mostly throwing my money at the Warhammer people in return for increasingly extortionate models and modelling supplies, but I gave it all up around the same time my friends did and started spending the money on attempts at seducing women. For a while I took my leave of the table top, until I encountered kindred spirits at university who had never given it up. Eventually, I started gaming casually with them, though I never spent any more money on it having learnt my lesson from calculating the financial cost of my collection after giving it away. But something was missing.

For those of you familiar with the Warhammer world, we played Fantasy, 40K and Space Hulk. For those of you not familiar, a brief description of each: orcs fighting elves and such with some magic thrown in; space marines and tanks set way in the future; and the board game version of Aliens. These games were fun, for a time. Pouring over the various rule books and army lists would spark an idea of a new tactic, or memories of an old victory and my friends and I would throw together an assortment of representative figures (termed 'proxies') in order to circumvent the need for purchasing and assembling entire armies for just a few games a month.

Eventually, however, I wanted more depth. Grand armies clashing was all well and good, but I was interested in really exploring the world in a more personal way. To that end, we turned to the more specialist game of Inquisitor. Set in the 'space marines and tanks' universe of the 41st millennium, the player takes control of an individual character, most of whom had far more depth to their abilities, gear and histories, and would embark on campaigns over the course of many games, resulting in a lengthy and fleshed out playing experience that rewarded forethought and adaptability in character creation as well as encouraging the players to develop a connection with their characters.

Prime example, during one game my character lost an eye, an ear, a leg and several internal organs to a grenade. Between that game and the next I chose to outfit him with a prosthetic replacements, and bestowed upon him the moniker of 'Lucky.'This level of connection to the character that I had created allowed me to further enjoy the experiences of each game to an even greater degree. It is genuinely thrilling to have your character attempt a Matrix-esque backwards dive into cover whilst firing twin pistols at an enemy, leaving only their shredded corpse remaining. It is also gutting to attempt the exact same manoeuvre and have your character dive backwards into an explosive barrel, accidentally shoot the barrel and end up as a thin red mist settling on the shoulders of your guffawing enemy, post-explosion.

But again, this still wasn't enough.

It's similar to those anti-drugs messages we were shown in our younger years; "don't smoke weed, it's a gateway drug to the harder stuff" etc. The same can be said with table top games. First I played chess, then Warhammer, I moved onto Inquisitor, and now I find myself with a group of friends experimenting with Dungeons and Dragons when our parents are out of town.

The buzz of role playing is very addictive. I find learning the rules to a universe, be it a table top or video game, and then planning on how I would fit into that world to be the best kind of fun, especially when surrounded by people who are enjoying it just as much. Notice that I didn't say how my character would fit into the universe, but how I would. It's not called a role playing game for nothing. And finally, with DnD, I have found that perfect hit of RPG goodness.

So what's so good about it? Well, everything. Or more specifically, the ability to DO everything. The rules are so expansive and so fluid that if you can conceive of a scenario and a way to deal with it, it can be done. This is made possible by the dynamic and yet surprisingly simple gameplay system, which I shall briefly outline.

A game can be played with a minimum of three players. Two play the game, whilst the third plays the Dungeon Master, or DM. The DM has no character on the table, but instead plays as the world. The DM is there to control the creatures you encounter, to progress the story of the scenario you are playing and to respond to everything your characters do. All of this is achieved through the wondrous device that is the icosahedron. The 20-sided die. With this single item the DM is able to judge the success of any action or event in the world. For a simple example, your character wants to climb a ledge. Using a single statistic the DM rolls the d20. Depending on the result when compared to that statistic for your character you either succeed or fail, with a variety of outcomes. At the other end of scale, a complex request by a player, asking if his character can take the coil of rope in his backpack, fashion a lasso and try and mount a troll and ride it into the sunset, can also be decided with a single d20; the DM just needs to use his or her judgment to set an arbitrary score required for success. When I said you can do anything, I did really mean it.

So these endless possibilities stretching out before a first time player may seem daunting, but the once you've drawn up your character and embarked on your first few adventures, everything starts to become more fluid and natural. Making sure to remind your rogue companion to check a treasure chest for traps before they open it, just in case the sneaky DM has concealed a trip wire connected to an arrow launcher, will soon become second nature. 

Overall, I would say I'm very much enjoying my DnD experience so far, an experience that is only improved by the people I'm playing with. It is of vital importance that players buy into the shared experience, suspend their disbelief and play in an active manner, instead of just letting the DM tell them a story. The game has a definite need for make believe skills, and sadly they are certainly something most of us will lose as we enter adolescence, and so I'm very glad that I've only just come to DnD at the ripe old age of 22. It certainly is a magical experience, sitting round a table with university educated, intellectually equipped individuals brimming with all sorts of talents to inflict on the world, arguing whether or not that goblin in the next room can hear you fluffing up your bedroll. Something you won't find anywhere else, I promise you.

A brief account of my character:

Keith the Elven Sorcerer, a sprightly young thing at only 121 years old, has embarked on a few minor quests with his companions Lia and Errik the Shadow. Necromancy has been quashed, plagues have been cured, towns have been saved from bloodthirsty beasts and old witch's cottages broken into, all in the pursuit of prestige. Keith has expanded his knowledge of the arcane arts, increasing his repertoire of mystical powers and adding more pages to his spell book. He also learnt to conjure an animal familiar, Simon the Faithful Toad, who never leaves his side. During one adventure, Keith and his companions stumbled across a town with a master blacksmith, who adjusted Keith's crossbow and improved its aim. Whilst travelling through a dark region of the land Keith encountered an old crone, who promised to imbue his blade with a mystical power, for a price of course. From the moment the old witch touched his longsword, it seemed to glow with a faint red light -- she had tainted the blade with unholy words, improving its power over creatures of the light.

Currently, Keith is lodging in a tavern near the south coast, practicing his spells and counting his gold as he awaits his next adventure.