“I Activate My Tide of Iron!”
(This was an article written for my magazine writing class, in the New Yorker’s Talk of the Town format. It went over very well, though I feel bad for casting gamers in a negative light once again.)
“Kill it! Kill it in the face!”
“I’m a bugbear! Didn’t you notice? It’s what we do!”
“How many hit points did that goblin bring you down to?”
These statements and more filled the main convention hall of the Hyatt Regency Crystal City on Saturday, March 1st. Hundreds of people assembled there for one reason: to play Dungeons & Dragons.
The convention, called the D&D Experience, summons players from all over the world every year. This year was special, however. The corporate caretakers of D&D announced that June would bring major changes to how the game is played. The convention would be the first chance for the public to try out the new rules, and decide for themselves if it’s worth upgrading (and paying $35 and up to purchase new materials) or stick with the old version they already own.
It’s 8 AM and 6 players sit down at a table in the hall to play a scenario called “Escape from Sembia.” They bring with them Styrofoam containers of breakfast, Starbucks cups, and piles of dice. The hall is filled with such tables of players, each hosting their own game. Plenty of other commonalities exist between the tables as well: nearly all of the players are white, the majority are male, and most are obese.
The Dungeon Master (DM for short, the game’s judge and storyteller) hands out character sheets. Character sheets tell each player what role they will be assuming for the session, and are also the first glimpse into the new rules. D&D is a combination of improvisational acting and tactical wargaming, taking place in a J.R.R. Tolkien-inspired setting filled with magic, elves, and of course dragons.
One player dumps out an entire cloth bag of dice onto the table, starting with a 20-sided die the size of a child’s fist. “I can’t use the small dice. I have to use the big one,” says the proud owner. A wizard character sheet passes him. “A wand is needed to cast spells now?” he asks to no one in particular. “What is this, Harry Potter?” He takes the sheet of a female Dwarven warrior, and passes the rest on. Soon, each player has a sheet. One player at the table was in a previous demo, and begins to debate with the DM.”I’m going to use my Belt of Vigor and Frost Warhammer.”
“You can only bring one magic item in,” the DM answers without looking up from his notes. He is wearing the red-vest uniform of the convention volunteers.
“What?”
“That’s the rule. One magic item per person.”
Questioned answered, the game begins. The DM sets the scene by providing some pre-written exposition.
“You were nearly broke when a wealthy merchant made a simple job offer. Deliver a sealed note to another merchant in the nearby town of Sembia. The note is sealed with magical protection so that only the addressee can open it. Your contact will stand outside and light a torch when he believes the coast is clear, and then you will make the delivery. You have been given 10 gold pieces each, with 50 more to come when the job is completed.”
The DM takes a pause from the narration to set up the map, including a tavern where the characters start. Painted plastic miniatures representing the characters are placed, along with a skeleton figure to represent a “doughy-looking merchant” whom the characters are supposed to meet. One of the players notes the foreshadowing.
More miniatures arrive representing town guards, who the players peg as bad guys. The DM describes how a town guard stabs the merchant. He knocks the skeleton over for emphasis, and a fight begins.
All the players pick up the new rules quickly, being experienced with previous versions of D&D. Cries of “I Lance of Faith that guy!” and “I activate my Tide of Iron!” describe the fantastic abilities the characters possess, while a roll of a 20-sided die determines success or failure.
The combat lasts about twenty minutes in real time, but only thirty seconds of game time. The characters are victorious, but then are told that reinforcements are on the way. The DM’s message is clear: it’s time to flee. The game becomes more free-form, with players describing how they want to escape. Occasionally, they roll dice and use statistics from their character sheet. At times, they talk in first person as if their character (but make no attempt to disguise their own accents, or use falsetto when playing a woman) and negotiate with one of the many non-player characters voiced by the DM.
A few die rolls later, the characters escape from Sembia. The DM asks to take a fifteen minute break. The players take the chance to discuss the new system, starting with the man with the large die.
“It might be a decent system, but it’s not D&D anymore. It doesn’t have the feel of D&D.”
The player next to him agrees and describes it as being “World of Warcraft on a tabletop,” referring to the popular online videogame.
Another player, a mid-20’s architect, speaks up to disagree. “In previous editions, it was boring to play a fighter. Now it’s exciting.”
“My old character was a fighter, and I never thought it was boring,” responds the large die owner. “This is the first edition the flavor didn’t have the same essence as before. Wizards don’t even have spellbooks anymore!”
The experienced player steps in. “They do! It’s just different.”
Another player, who plays a halfling (D&D’s non-copyright infringing version of Tolkien’s hobbits), speaks up. “I like it. I think it’s faster, but there’s a lot of new stuff to learn. It can be a little overwhelming.” His clean shave and doughy face do a convincing job of making him resemble a halfling in real life, save for his height.
The experienced player diplomatically changes the subject. “I like that the convention is in DC now.”
“I miss it being in Indiana,” says the large die owner. “There was a shuttle bus that took you to three strip clubs.”
The DM returns to continue the game. Soon, the characters find themselves engaged in another fight, bravely trying to defend a helpless farm from rampaging monsters. A half hour later, the characters aren’t as lucky as before. All the characters are wounded and fleeing, or dead. The DM declares the game to be over.
“A preview game where you die is a tough sell,” summarizes the large die owner.
According to David Christ, the volunteer in charge of organizing the convention games, “That’s not supposed to happen. The DMs were supposed to let the characters pick themselves up and continue on. He must have not gotten the memo.”
