Thoughts of an Old Fart Gamer
Back when I intended this site to be an e-zine, I planned to make nostalgia the subject of the second issue. After all, nostalgia's meant to be big business and I'll be the first to admit that even at the tender age of almost twenty-seven, I'm an old fart and have been for years. Since the third edition of D&D came out, there has been a tendency for various companies to try to cater to this demand. More adventures were set in dungeons. Necromancer Games still has the strapline 3rd edition Rules, 1st edition feel
; and has a preview of Wurst of Grimtooth's Traps™ available for download. Knightmare is on its way back, the old Dungeons & Dragons cartoon is out on DVD -- the list goes on and on.
This is my fifteenth year of gaming. By true Old Fart Gamer standards I'm still just a kid, but I can't help it if this prolonged nostalgic onslaught has had its effect on me. Over the past couple of years in particular, I've noticed a number of disturbing symptoms that I really ought to report to you.
Symptoms of the Old Fart Gamer
- Physiological symptoms.
- I've always been overweight, and have had long hair for nearly twelve years now. If left unattended I tend to grow a rather unsightly crop of scrubby facial hair. Given that I wear glasses and don't have much in the way of fashion sense, it's almost impossible to mistake me for anything other than a gamer. Tie the hair back and age me by forty or so years and I'd look like Gary Gygax.
- Grouchiness.
- Yes, I know we can all get a bit intransigent from time to time, but I seem to have it worse than most. I've avoided the WoTC forum and many other gaming haunts solely because kids today don't know they're born. I like to start campaigns at 1st-level and if I get my way they pretty much stay in the single digits. Requests for magic items are at best sneered at. Thieves are only called 'rogues' under protest.
- Dice autism.
- God, I'm a caricature. My dice belong in specific sets or pools, and if any are missing I tend to get all twitchy. Even though they're just lumps of crudely shaped plastic, easily replaced and not worth worrying about, the thought of lending my dice out makes my skin crawl. I have 'special' dice sets that I won't allow anyone else to use, and even a black skull-shaped dice container named Carruthers for the dice I use most. My housemates got dice last Xmas, partly so they wouldn't have to borrow mine. I suspect seeking professional help would probably be a good idea.
- Campaign World Snobbishness.
- Time was when I'd pick up almost any crazy campaign world going, regardless of whether or not I'd actually use it. I still have a load of Spelljammer material, and most of the Planescape campaign world. Lately, though, I've caught myself thinking the only real campaign world for D&D is Greyhawk. Forgotten Realms doesn't even get a look in as far as sub-Tolkien obviously-intended-for-RPG worlds go. That world never had an adventure as downright nasty as S1: Tomb of Horrors, and as far as I'm concerned D3: Vault of the Drow is still better than Drizzt bloody Do'Urden. It's only good if it's old.1
- Screen Cowardice.
- GM screens: love 'em or hate 'em. Detractors claim they take up too much space on the table, and show the players that the GM has something to hide. As a lifelong user of the GM screen, I'd just like to come out and answer that this is in fact the case. We do have something to hide, and they're called our notes and dice rolls. Sure, we might fudge the odd die roll -- sometimes to ensure a bit of character-building misfortune comes your way, and sometimes to pull your arse out of a situation we'd rather not have to deal with. Suck it up. The GM has his secrets. Accept that and remember Rule One: The GM is a bastard.2
- Relentless Dungeon Crawling.
- Say what you like: as far as I'm concerned the dungeon's the ideal setting for an adventure. It keeps the action nicely confined and reduces the chances of players roaming off the edge of the map and forcing me to stray from all my prepared material and improvise a load of stuff I'll probably never remember. I don't like to let the characters roam around too much. If after an adventure they've spent so long underground that each one of them has developed agoraphobia and a series of nervous tics, I consider my job well done.
- Shop Loyalty.
- I'm a consumer. I should be able to shop around, consider which place offers gaming materials for the best price, and pick and choose where I get my books with impunity, right? Well, in the real world we know it's not that simple. I feel guilty about getting my books anywhere other than The Games Room in Norwich, even though I've not been there in months. Why? Well, one's local games shop is special. It's the sort of place where, if you're lucky, they get to know you. Most importantly -- and from an Old Fart Gamer perspective, this is crucial: it's a place where the shopkeeper may put up with your crap. Mike3 and Duncan McKeown successfully kept consciousness through some of my dullest gaming stories, and didn't get unpleasant when I hung around for up to half an hour after making a purchase. I may only have been a semi-regular customer rather than an actual friend, but they made me feel welcome and looked after me. Old Fart Gamers: you know what I'm talking about. Those shops keep us going. If only because we have absolutely nowhere else to go. Even though I've not been anywhere near Norfolk in months, I miss that place.
- It's only good if it's old.
- Yeah, let's be irrational for a second. I love the old AD&D books -- the ones with the original covers. The art might have been crap compared to their more recent counterparts, the production values might not have been high, but they had soul. I don't know how many expected RPGs to be big business back then. It was and is a niche market. Still, what they lacked in presentation they made up for in content. Those books looked like they were made for by hobbyists, most of whom had to hold down day jobs, and aimed at... well, people like them. The books looked amateurish, but that amateurishness appealed to me.