Dungeons & Dragons wasn’t a thing for me until I was maybe 15 or 16.
I was still concerned with being cool at that point so, to me, D&D was that thing that all the nerds did (spoiler: I was a nerd but in denial about it). One of my best friends, who was the prime mover in my acculturation into geeky stuff, suggested our group give it a try one weekend. He’d been playing with another group of friends and thought we’d enjoy it. Grudgingly, I agreed. This was back in the Second Edition AD&D days.
That campaign lasted around three years and kicked off my obsession with playing rogues. While this was going on, I also played in another campaign with some other high school friends. I played a rogue. In college I played a rogue. Starting in, like, 2010 I played a bard for three or four years. Still technically a rogue. And in the most recent campaign I played in, I was, wait for it, a rogue.
To me, D&D’s benefits are twofold.
The first, and most important, is that warm feeling you get when you sit down at the table with your friends. Adventuring together, even if it’s just in your collective imaginations, is one of the strongest building blocks to friendship. It gives you a window into the minds and hearts of your fellow party members. It’s the best way to get to know someone. Pretty much all of my core friend group in Richmond came from D&D tables.
D&D’s second function, wish fulfillment and escapism, is just as important. By playing a rogue, I get to experience the life unlived.
I’ve always tended to be a by-the-rules kind of guy, so removing societal restrictions and letting my character run around looting homes and fighting goblins is tremendously relaxing.
I won’t consider myself having hit peak D&D, though, until I get my wife to start playing every once in a while.
