Birthright

Manowar’s Kings of Metal was the first CD I ever bought based on the cover alone. I remember it was at the Tower Records attached to the mall near my house. I remember it being a lot of money to gamble. I remember the weird plastic antitheft container for the CDs that made it actually easy to carry more than one in your hand.

And I remember the track that makes this make sense…

Kingdom Come

At the same mall there was a Waldenbooks. It was on the exact opposite side of the mall from the Tower Records near the arcade. I spent so much time there I can map the layout by heart. I remember a cute girl that worked there but I don’t remember her name.

And I remember buying my first gaming boxed set based on the cover alone…

Birthright

I remember playing Kingdom Come on repeat. Over and over again. On my boom box. I can still hear it in my head if I let myself. Crisp and clear unlike my memories.

See the white light, the light within
Be your own disciple
Fan the sparks of will
For all of us waiting
Our kingdom will come

I remember reading the rules of Birthright over and over again. They refused to make sense. I fought against the rules, shaking the Players Handbook in fury over their limitations.

Domains and powers. Blood magic and armies. It was so compelling. So enticing. I wanted to play it. I needed to play it…

But those fucking rules…

Now, rays of power shining
Rays of magic fall
On the golden voice
That speaks within us all
For all of us waiting
Your kingdom will come
Kingdom come

Dungeons and Dragons characters didn’t make sense for this. I premade characters anyway. Used the Birthright bloodlines, but that is about it. I gave them a quick backstory. I create lines of potential conflict. Natural allies. I didn’t know what I was going to do.

George did. Peter did too. John, and Kevin and Mark. They all did.

Plots were hatched. Secret conversations happened in the utility room next to the furnace. I adjudicated. I documented.

Hours passed. Did dice get rolled at all?

Did we just LARP?

Now, feel the white light, the light within
Yeah, it burns a fire
Drives a man to win
For all of us waiting
Your kingdom will come
Kingdom come

Ten or twelve people wanted to play a game. At my house in my basement. On the metal tables my mom used to use to run a ceramics class. Memory is funny about what details it keeps and what it lets become spongy. Faded…

What do I do with that many people wanted to play Dungeons and Dragons?

Write up one sentence factions. Give everyone a title. Give them resources. Armies. Money. Magic. Did we use magic?

Pick a place on a map. My map? Probably.

Let them name their characters. That was a mistake. Ten or twelve people worrying about names. Exhausting.

One rule. Pass notes for secrets and don’t let me know. I have to be neutral.

Hours of laughter. Of whispers. Hastily scribbled notes. I have no idea how it ended. Who won, who lost.

Probably John. His paranoia always got the best of him.

Words of power calling to us all
Holding us together
While other kingdoms fall
No longer waiting
Our kingdom has come
Kingdom come

I remember cleaning up when everyone left. The detritus of the night needing to be put away so mom doesn’t murder me. Late at night. Early in the morning. Always after midnight. Books and paper and snacks and glasses all need to get to their spot.

I only remember one note I found. It stays in my brain nestled with the bellowing of Eric Adams. One simple, ridiculous statement…

Kevin. I’m not wearing any panties.

How is it possible to sum up the experience of knowing someone as a teenager in one statement?

Kingdom coming!
Another kingdom falls
The rightful are waiting
But all are not rightful
Wait and receive the weight of the fall

I still have those books, but the CD is long gone. I think I have all of the Birthright books. The CD got replaced by a vinyl I rarely play. It’s a reminder, like the books, of a specific time.

A time when there was a Tower Records and a Waldenbooks to shop at. A time when you had to buy something with little more information than the cover art. Of when my parent’s basement was Mecca and the hours slipped away.

A time from which the memories slip away. Get fuzzy. Require work to get at and hammer into shape. Unless they are phone numbers of course…

And this fucking song…

Kingdom come, kingdom come
Kingdom come, kingdom come
Kingdom come