Well, it’s finally happened. I’ve known for awhile that a few of my friends in our gaming group would be leaving at some point in the near(ish) future. That time has come. I haven’t quite worked out what’s going to happen between now and then, but there’s a fair chance I’m going to have to wrap up our campaign in two days’ time. I’ve planned for this. I’ve tried to steel myself for this. And yet, all I can think of is the last words of the tenth Doctor: “I don’t want to go!”. Forget about the words. I know I’m not the one leaving. Shut up.
If The Dungeon Mama Ain’t Happy, Ain’t Nobody Happy
I’ll admit it: I’d been dreading running last week’s D&D game. It had been over a month since we played, and my trepidation was as much laziness as it was not wanting to dungeon crawl. I’d imagine it was much more my fault than the dungeon module we were running, but I’d somehow managed to suck all the fun out of the game for me. That’s the last thing you want running through the DM’s mind in any group — sooner or later things start to suck for everybody else. A few months later, the group breaks up and one of your roleplayers goes to prison for stabbing a minmaxer. I knew I had to do something. But what?
Recent Comments