RPGaDay 2019: 1 First

I’ve written before about the blue box Dungeons & Dragons game; I now know it to be the fourth printing of the Holmes rewrite, which included a copy of BI—In Search of the Unknown, and a set of chits that completely and utterly failed to capture the excitement of rolling platonic solids.

My step-father bought the game for us, no doubt intrigued by the concept; he was a sword and planet fan and one of the first things we bonded over in our nascent relationship was fantasy and sci fi books. I remember our first game: we had been handed character sheets, and in front of us was several Dixie cups full of chits (I know, sexy, right?) and he began narrating the adventure. We were at a door. It opened into a dark hallway…and then he said, “hold on a second,” and started flipping through the rule book.

We waited patiently. Where were we going to go? Mom was dealing with the other two kids, who were five and seven years my junior. I asked if I could see one of the books that came in the box. I was told no, because he needed both of them to run the game.

This was intriguing. I watched as Paul flipped through the rule book, and then consulted the module, and back and forth for several minutes. Then he got up, lit a cigarette, and took the rule book with him, saying, “Just a minute. I think I forgot to do something…” and he walked into the other room, muttering.

And that was my first Dungeons & Dragons game.

Two weeks later, I casually migrated the box into my room and began my examination of the rules. It was fascinating in the extreme—I had never seen a rule book laid out in that particular style or typeface. It looked different. It felt different. The artwork was a little messy, but also evocative.

The section I read more than any other in the book was the example of play. That, I thought, was where our game went off the rails. I didn’t know what to say, and Paul didn’t know what to do. I tried to match up the cross-section of the sample dungeon with the sample layout and of course, none of it was supposed to match anyway, but it kept me from playing that much longer until I did.

That summer, my other step-brother, from my father’s re-marriage, came back from Boy Scout Camp with all kinds of life wisdom and a new thing: he’d been playing Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. Not the basic stuff; that was for kids, Jack. For hard-core gamers only. It only took a couple of weekends before I was hounding my mother to buy me a Player’s Handbook.

I can still hear it in my head, like a voice over an old-fashioned telephone… “It’s HOW MUCH?...for a book…? What’s this…that game you never played? I know, Paul bought it, but…and this is for what, again…Mark, we’ve got dice at the house…I don’t know…Okay, but you’re paying me back for this…”

My copy of the Player’s Handbook was $18.00, from B.Dalton  Booksellers in the mall. By Christmas, I’d acquired copies of the Monster Manual and the Dungeon Master’s Guide ($24.00, NOT on sale), and bought a set of Armory gem dice. Mom said, as we were picking up Christmas paper wrapping, “I hope you play the hell out of that game, because that’s all the money I’m going to spend on it.”

The next day, I conned a ride to the mall, where the hobby shop was located. I bought the most recent issue of Dragon Magazine with Christmas money, and I bought a module, too: The Tomb of Horrors.  I was hooked. There was no going back.