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Monday, March 10, 2008

Oh Gamemaster, My Gamemaster

A few days ago, we lost our GM. A tragic, unpredictable, sudden death. An unexpected email.

Admit the tears the memories came back. A private conversation asking whether I was sure I didn't mind that character dying -- do you want me to pull a deus ex machina and save her? The good humor with which he allowed our munchkin players to min-max impossible characters. Setting the scenario that allowed one of us to warn another: "Watch out for trapdoor bears!" thus spawning an endless series of inappropriate trapdoor monsters, and eventually leading to the name of this website.

When he played as a PC with us in a First Edition With-All-The-Phat-Loot Campaign, his easy humor shone through. He was Fergus, our gnome illusionist complete with a foppish hat. We never let him forget the time he tested an unidentified magic ring by donning it and sticking his head in a bucket of water. He was (rather unfairly) made to role against Systems Shock. It was first edition, after all. Roll, roll against the dying of the light!

The ring turned out to be one of Feather Fall, not Water Breathing.

Poor Fergus the Gnome met his end fighting a dragon while invisible. I called for everyone to get back, but he didn't move fast enough to miss my fireball. I felt guilty for years. He took it in stride, saying he'd been wanting to roll a new character, honest.

When I saw this homage to Gary Gygax on Order of the Stick (a web comic I had introduced to him), I immediately thought of Fergus. I was going to email, but I had a work deadline and trip, and thought I would email him when I got back. I didn't realize then that it was already too late.

Of course, it wasn't all about the game. Our GM was as comfortable talking about the recent elections in Italy or the Israel-Palestine conflict as the mechanics of D&D. He was brilliant, an informed world citizen, a serious scholar in the true sense, and a genuinely kind person. But to us, he was always a gamer first. When we wrote to tell him we were pregnant, he emailed:

Have you guys thought of names yet? Personally, I feel it should embrace his or her cultural heritage, by which I, of course, mean the family tradition of extra-large gaming. Perhaps "Trogdor the Bloody"? I think it works well for a boy or a girl...
But when Teh N00b was born, he brought a "serious" present: a collection of books that our little boy still loves, including "Make Way for Ducklings," a classic set in Boston. When we met once for dinner in Bean-Town, he watched as Teh N00b -- barely a year old -- stole a lemon slice off his father's plate and proceed to alternate between tasting it and pulling egregious faces before tasting it again. He laughed, an honest laugh that showed he both saw the humor in a baby wanting to experience the mildly (but interestingly!) unpleasant, and the humor of the parents who were far too amused to "save" their baby.

The combination of serious and silly came out when we would talk with him about his Greek heritage, of which he was very proud. In a serious moment he told me about how his family had a long tradition of alternating names for first sons, and he fully planned to name his first son after his father, and expected his first grandson to be named after him in turn. In sillier moments, he would smile and shake his head silently while we invented new Greek "traditions" for him to follow, mainly involving tridents and hoplight armor and the Boston Aquarium. It didn't make any sense at the time, either, but it made him laugh, because he was willing to accept us as we were -- silly and all.

Since he moved away from Chicago to return to the East Coast a few years ago, we had seen each other only occasionally. But he was the kind of friend that you never forgot to call when in town, always emailed with the important news, and thought about often.

It is a loss I, and his friends, will never forget.



P.S. I am not putting his name here out of respect for his family, whose wishes I don't claim to know. Those of you who know me, already know of whom I speak. Also, rhetorical apologies to Walt Whitman and Dylan Thomas.

1 comment:

Ducks said...

Terrible correspondent that I am, I had not spoken to him in ages. But we had helped one another move house, and he was a warm and dear figure that I spent happy time with almost once a week for years.

People as serene, intelligent, joyful, fun, and moral as he was are a treasure. I cried all day when I heard he had passed.

Please let me know if there is an address to which I can send sympathies. I missed him already and now I regret that I didn't tell him so a little sooner.