Explaining the Love

I have been a pen and paper gamer for over 30 years. I have spent far too much money on the hobby, and dedicated countless hours to it. I have dedicated huge amounts of my memory (though not as much as some) to recollecting the rules, names, and settings of so many different games. I have lost sleep over them, gained and lost friends over them, and felt levels of accomplishment typical reserved for serious life events.

But, why? What is it that draws me in, and keep me there? How has it held my attention for so long?

I think, ultimately, it comes down to a number of things. The first, in my case, was being socially withdrawn. I was an only child, a fairly rare occurrence when I was growing, and I didn't have built-in friendships or animosities like many people did. I had no idols or nemesis. The circumstance of my upbringing meant that I often didn't have the chance, or even seize upon it when I did, to make friends. All of this meant that, a structured world of imagination, filled with random people, cultures, monsters, and adventure, appealed to me rather heavily. I could open a book, pick what I wanted to be in that moment, and go along with it. This wasn't the passive ride along of a good book, which you sit down for and see where it whisks you away to. This was a guideline to go somewhere else, albeit only in my imagination, and immerse myself in a world not my own.

 I took a lot of flak for this. My father, who I never felt deserved to be diminished by the prefix "step", sought only to give a lonely child a world of wonder to entertain his mind. He would pride himself on how much I wanted to read the books that certainly weren't written for children, and how much creativity the whole experience drew out of me. But most people, from class mates and their parents, to the faculty of the schools I attended, all thought I was somehow wrong. That, at best, I was just some sort of freak playing pretend in the basement, associating with other maladjusted youth. At worst, they though I was deeply disturbed, one bad day away from slaughtering people with a bladed weapon while screaming Satanic spells at my victims. I wasn't allowed to hang out with friends I made, and was, on several occasions, brought into the school office and threatened with disciplinary action, simply for having my game books at school.

What they didn't realize is that their ostracism only made me stronger as a person, letting me realize how quickly one could be singled out if they didn't fit into what was expected. I learned that I didn't need to be like everyone else, and that many of the insults that they threw at me were just another attempt to help themselves cope with what they didn't, or couldn't, understand. And perhaps, most importantly, it gave me friendships that were largely immune to these external forces. The people that I brought into my social circle had similar interests, and had suffered many of prejudices against the hobby that I had. They frequently game from the same place, socially, or they at least could understand what it was like to exist outside the commonly accepted paradigm.  We bonded in our isolation, took comfort in our exclusion, and challenged each other to become more and more creative in the worlds we shared. Many of these relationships lasted far longer than those of my peers, sometimes to a shocking degree, and it was only through the realities of aging, or internal social strife, that I ever lost any of them. I cherish all those friendships, even the ones that have faded.

This hobby, perhaps more of a way of life if I am honest, kept me happy. Kept me occupied. I always had some idea, forming in my head, and it taught me how to share those ideas with others. While many of those in my gaming peer group never quite branched out from their small exclusive cliques, I managed to take what I learned and apply it elsewhere. People I met might not even know how I spent my free time, but they knew that I was filled with ideas, and an urge to express them as articulately as I could. That I had passion about unseen concepts, which I carried with me in much of what I did. I like to think that years of exploring the darkest dungeons, and facing the evil warlords, helped me to deal with unknown social situations, and face the peer pressure we all inevitably experience. All that time, being all those different heroes, and occasionally villains, helped me process all the wide varieties of personalities the world had to offer. I don't think I'd have managed to the degree I have without those fantasy adventures.

I could say more, and I suppose that proves the point of all of this. When you love something, truly love it, I don't think you ever run out of things to say, or the desire to repeat it. It stays with you, it occupies your mind, whatever small part of it, wherever you go. It's the reason I even made this post. Cause, even through my current personal strife, where my father and I have fallen to incredibly strained relationships, I think about the gift he gave to me. The infinite worlds, possibilities, and strengths.  Even when the man who introduced all this to me cast me out, my mind goes back to this.