D&D

When Elijah and Luca were away at camp, I was in Germany to attend some meetings during an intense heat wave. I learned two things: 1. Germans do not believe in air conditioning. 2. At exactly 94 degrees, I begin to smell like a dumpster poured into a sewer.

After one such meeting, I was enjoying a comically large German beer while chatting with a delightful client. This client is the type of guy who wants to start a metal band called “German Blade Factory” after hearing the phrase in an ad about shaving supplies.

During one of our competitions about whose kids are the weirdest, he mentioned that he and his kids had recently bonded over the game Dungeons and Dragons. I blurted out, “What the hell are you talking about?”

D&D is still a thing? People actually play it? Better yet, children will actually do something that doesn’t involve Fortnite and/or Youtube?

Yes, German Blade Factory said. His kids loved it. They use their imaginations and solve problems and don’t fight each other.

You can tell by my excitement that I was a lonely, underweight child growing up. Despite not playing in over 30 years, I immediately purchased waaaaay too much Dungeons and Dragons stuff online. So much stuff that Diana accused me of drinking and shopping the next day. She was right.

I arrived home from Germany to an empty home and too much time on my hands. Which means trouble. I was concerned that I wouldn’t be able to entice the boys to play D&D with a pile of books and the recommendations of German Blade Factory.

I did what any idiot would: I threw more money at it. I visited not one, but two role playing game stores. I had many dorky conversations and purchased many maps and figurines and dice. So many dorky conversations.

When the boys arrived home from camp, I had all my newly purchased D&D stuff displayed on the dining room table. “Huh? Huh? What do you guys think? Huh? Swords. Ooh…look at that dragon. Oh! A Bugbear! Huh? Pretty cool, right?”

In unison, the boys unenthusiastically said, “Coooooooool.”

After some threatening and bribing, they agreed to join me in one game of D&D Sunday night. I even convinced Diana to join because she is a woman prone to pity. Out of nowhere, our neighbor girls joined in because their mother is prone to pity.

I turned off the lights, lit every candle in the house and adopted an ill-advised British accent that I couldn’t maintain. And man, I tried my best. I tried to weave a world of magic and sorcery and danger. I made sound effects. I acted out Goblins and Dwarves and scruffy, sword wielding vagabonds.

I knew I was in trouble when Diana silently stood up, poured her wine into my glass and patted me on the head before heading upstairs to her trashy novel. The neighbor girls decided “flirt with him” was their best move for any battle. Eli could barely keep his head off the table.

My only ally was Luca, who was utterly enthralled and begged to continue as the game disintegrated.  I told him we needed more than 2 people to play the game and he suggested we go to one to one of the dice stores to recruit members. But I couldn’t do that to him.

The next day, I found all my D&D stuff packed away in a sad little box. I packed the box away in my special Rick area in the basement, next to the canned goods, bottled water and other emergency supplies.

I figured D&D would be the perfect way to pass the time during the apocalypse.