Clydesdale Hall of Fame: Gary Gygax

If it weren’t for this man and his giant contribution, I would be at a loss for something to do on Wednesday nights. Off and on for the last many years, if I found myself without something interesting to do-like watching re-runs of Beauty and the Geek or microwaving some leftovers- I have enjoyed the opportunity to sneak up to 10th Ave and witness the withy imaginations of geeks gone wild as they throw the 20 sided dice.

Conducted within a cloak of cigarette smoke, the 10th Ave Dungeon family roars and bickers as they virtually steal from their virtual selves, backstabbing and rooking everything that isn’t virtually nailed down. At times, watching from the sidelines I realize without any comment or movement by myself that yes! I am playing too! “I want to kill the Ogre watching us by that tree.” Can I kill the Ogre?” asks the She-elf or Shelf.

The Ogre eases on out the door, disappointed to have not caught them in costume, which he knows damn well they use. They must have some sort of time rewind spell I would guess?

Things could have gone differently. I remember purchasing the introductory Dungeons and Dragons set with my Dad at Dubey’s bookstore in Sebring, Fl. The family had yet to discover that I had the attention span of a juvenile fruit fly. I opened the box, rather small, purple, and light for the price- only to find…

…a bunch of paper. Not dragon one. No swords. No maidens (damn sure no maidens, mighty few maidens found around a D&D gang.)

I remember asking my father the same thing I ask now, “Um, are we like, playing now or just talking about playing?” I still can’t tell the difference.

I have long admired those who make their own fun, and grudgingly admit that role-playing games honor that tradition, although I am disappointed it can be played out of costume, unless ska t-shirts, Vans, and Miller High Life is a costume.

Brett Favre retired. Ron Paul is dropping out.

Gary Gygax is dead.

It is getting mighty lonely for the iconoclasts.

Magical minus one,


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