This whole Dungeon Mastering thing has gone to my head. I’m on a quest to get everyone I know to play D&D. I’m like a jazzed up, hyper-competitive Mary Kay saleswoman bound and determined to sell enough lip gloss and firming eye cream to get behind the wheel of my very own pink Cadillac. I threaten to run games for everyone–my dental hygienist who politely asked how work was. My new neighbor who responded with “Wizards of the what?” when I told her where I worked. Even the poor woman and her husband who came by to look at the dining room chairs I was selling on Craig’s List.
“My husband has sciatica,” she told me. “The chairs have to be really comfortable.” “These chairs are so comfortable we could play D&D for hours,” I told her sounding eerily close to Ron Popeil pushing his food dehydrator. “Go on. Sit down! You be the fighter and you be the cleric!”
I even went so far as to tell James Wyatt that the next version of the Dungeon Master’s Guide would have my name along side his under the word “by.”
“Oh ha, ha,” he said. “That’s cute! It’s like you’re running a game right now!”
Fine. Maybe not the next Dungeon Master’s Guide.
What can I say? I’m giddy with promise. Dungeon Mastering has taught me there’s nothing I can’t do. Why not climb Mt. Rainier this weekend? Perhaps I’ll sign on to be a volunteer firefighter. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll friend Stacy Kendrick on Facebook.
Or maybe I’m not that evolved.
Running a successful game has given me newfound sense of security, kind of like being certified in CPR. My D&D playing friends should feel safe in my presence for they will never be far from a game with me around. If we were trapped in a bomb shelter and all we had were our character sheets and a set of dice (because really, do you go anywhere without those two things?) and New DM wasn’t with us because he’s the one who trapped us in the bomb shelter, fear not friends! I’ll run us through a game! Just don’t swallow your dice because I don’t know CPR.
I woke up the day after DM’ing and D&D was all I thought about. It was odd, this new sensation, like someone unearthed a portal in the section of my brain responsible for the manic enjoyment of roleplaying games.
I thought about it on my way to work, magic missiling single car occupants riding in the carpool lane (I’m lawful good, okay? I cannot tolerate such blatant disregard for the law.) I thought about it in our 9:00 AM team meeting, pretending our boss was a concerned magistrate of a haunted town about to give the party marching orders. I thought about it in kickboxing class, reminiscing about the time a young Astrid actually had to use her fist to take out a bad guy. My right hook was on fire that day.
Clearly my Dungeon Mastering experiment had a surprise side effect. While my skills as a DM may need developing, I had become a much better player. My newly revved up self couldn’t wait until the following week for our regular game.
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