Everyone I know that plays RPGs has a Dungeons and Dragons origin story. An older sibling passed on ancient, well worn tomes, aglow from the wonders within. An elder anointed their forehead with oil, ritually drew them into the circle, and gifted them a handful of polyhedrons. They discovered a moldering box filled to the brim with the discarded detritus of another’s lost youth.
All are wonderful, and I think appropriately, awash in the trappings of a heroes journey. Also, appropriately, mine is nothing like that.
Sae Hong was a friend I played Sega with. We played the shit out of Altered Beast at his house. We both owned Gobots.
One day during class we somehow ended up talking about some game he wanted to play. He had played it and he described the books needed to play.
“The books were by TSR? Oh I have those books,” or something like that.
We set a date. He came over. He was surprised.
Apparently I had the wrong books. I had novels published by TSR, not game books.
Enter Andy Min. Talented artist. Like to skateboard. Also friend.
“I got one of those books. I will sell it to you for ten dollars.”
This was not a trivial sum at the time. A few years later, twenty dollars a week got me lunches, gas, smokes, and a movie ticket or two.
I was intrigued. I bought it. Battered binding and all.
I couldn’t figure it out. The book wasn’t a game. It was a bunch of rules for parts of a game. I was fascinated and frustrated.
Back then, Waldenbooks was the spot. If we went to the mall, I always went there. I love to read and I never failed to convince my parents to buy me a book.
We were going to Alaska to visit relatives. We were in Waldenbooks looking for things for the plane. I found what I thought I needed to make sense of that book Andy sold me.
“I promise I will keep my brother occupied on the long flight. He can play this game with me at any time, mom.”
Or something like that.
I tore it open. It had instructions on how to play. Paper miniatures. Sample characters. Monsters! A map!
“Wait. Why the hell is this different? Elves are a class here, but a race there? What does that even mean?”
I think Andy ripped me off.
Andy didn’t rip me off. We played the boxed set. Then we tried using stuff from the book. Then we got back from Alaska and I called my friends.
We kept playing the boxed set.
I went to Waldenbooks again and again. Got more books. Eventually I figured it out and spent a decade playing this stupid game.
This stupid, obtuse, incoherently packaged game.
My D&D origin story is more Dumas than Tolkien, which only makes sense. I met D’Artagnan well before I met Aragorn.
So I guess that makes me Planchet?
