What we had last night was a whole series of failures to communicate. But what can you expect from a bunch of garlic-gargling guineas?
They didn’t appreciate all the effort that went into my pan of frozen lasagna. Frankly, I was kind of insulted that they were insulted by it. I’m a modern culturally sensitive kind of guy who tries to meet minorities and greasy southern European types like them halfway whenever I can. I respect and sympathize with everybody unfortunate enough not to come from decent and honest northern European stock, you know?
To make matters worse, it turns out the word “gaming” has a lot of different connotations. It also turns out that the phrase “high interest loan with no collateral” has one connotation with which I was not familiar until my gaming group explained it to me real good last night. It probably shouldn’t have taken until the third broken finger for me to appreciate their perspective, but when you game-tease a guy with the promise of some hot player on DM action and then yank it away at the last second, what do you expect?
My bookie was nice enough to swing by last night – he already knew the guys in my gaming group through some mutual acquaintances – and after some negotiations and a rather painful application of hammer to kneecap we all agreed that my debts could be resolved by transferring my March investments from my bookie to the guys in my gaming group. All was well that almost ended well, except that – and I feel really bad about this – we never managed to sit down so they could plumb the depths of Bone Hill.
They were nice enough to drop me off at the ER, I’ll give them that. Unfortunately, they were busy and couldn’t wait for me. By the time I crawled up to the registration desk, waited for the long line of immigrants to get treatment for their stuffy noses, had my bones set, and limped home on a crutch made from a fallen tree branch, it was mid-morning and they had other business to attend to.
The really funny part is that I had a couple of much more respectable guys in dark suits waiting for me when I got home. Turns out the old Alt-Right DM is gaining a reputation around these parts as a reliably entertaining DM. These guys heard about my game night, and asked if they could record the next one. They said they are so interested that they are putting their own campaigns on hold for it.
Brief aside, these guys don’t want to play at my table. They just want to record. I think it’s because they aren’t fantasy gamers. I think they play Top Secret or something. They started talking about how they write up stuff about Russia and computer server security and other political stuff and I got a little bored and drifted off.
Now, you know darn well that I’m not a big fan of live play D&D sessions. You may remember these golden oldies expressing my disdain for what passes for D&D on the Youses and the Tubeses:
But here’s what I’m thinking, and this might be the pain meds talking, but this is my chance to get some Real D&D broadcast over a few strands of the social media web. And if somebody else volunteers to do all the heavy technical lifting for me, so much the better! They said they have a lot of people interested in hearing what goes down at one of my gaming nights, and that they could even help me resolve the misunderstanding that I had with the ex-wives about their boyfriends’ kids and that long trip we took.
So while the rains haven’t fallen on my gaming drought just yet, big things are in motion and next week should be a purple lemur dancing on my ceiling. My nose melted, but the world feels like Coca-Cola in my hair. That doorknob is huge, and I wonder what this button does when you pr