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This evening, while discussing what direction to take our stalled Pathfinder game (I got serious writer's block when it came time to write the second half of the adventure I was running), I was hit by the uncanny -- and altogether unpleasant -- realization that in seven months the time since our last regular Sunday game will be equal to the entire length of time we played the Sunday game at all.
This saddens me greatly. I'm unsure what to do about it, because we all grow and change and move on. Some got married, like![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nyminal. Some established careers doing other things, like capedory1181. Some never had time to play, like kheadrin (though I half suspect that our group's constant bickering was a turn-off to his coming on a regular basis). Some have directed their energies in other directions, like lordreaibn. Some quit talking to me, like makeshift_guru or, more recently, strieson.
Despite my fervent desire to have that core group together forever to play kickass D&D games till we're in nursing homes, the damning truth is that we are all different people than we were, even 6 years ago. If I'm honest, we were different people at the end than we were when we started playing in 2000. I can fantasize, though:lordreaibn's original Stahl campaign. Wait, no. Rick never played in Caeln.
I miss those days. The comaradarie, the laughs, the adventures we shared. It isn't strictly a rose-tinted memory, either. I had some rather rough life issues in that six-and-a-half year span. Those games were my once-a-week escape from the mundanity of life, and to share a common vision of "what if" with kindred souls. Now, it will never be like that again. Even if we were to get together for a game, our approach would be completely different, and sadly, likely incompatible. That is assuming, of course, that we could coordinate a day on which to hold said hypothetical game.
I'm sure I'll be fine later. I was on an Edenbridge (Austrian symphonic metal band) kick tonight, and have listened to their discography in chronological order. What's that got to do with this post? I discovered Edenbridge not long after we started gaming on Sundays, and the early albums were inevitably on heavy rotation back then. That, coupled with my realization, had the effect of reminding me of times long past.
For now, I am going to ready myself for bed, and consider the reality of how life changes everything about us: what we value, how we think, what we say, how we say it, what we choose to do, how we eat, what we drive, where we live, and who we love.
I feel like Something™ wants to worm its way out of my brain, but I don't believe that it will happen tonight. Who knows? The one thing I can say I know for sure, is that nothing is certain.
...not even attempting to slay a monster in Dungeons & Dragons.
This saddens me greatly. I'm unsure what to do about it, because we all grow and change and move on. Some got married, like
nyminal. Some established careers doing other things, like capedory1181. Some never had time to play, like kheadrin (though I half suspect that our group's constant bickering was a turn-off to his coming on a regular basis). Some have directed their energies in other directions, like lordreaibn. Some quit talking to me, like makeshift_guru or, more recently, strieson.Despite my fervent desire to have that core group together forever to play kickass D&D games till we're in nursing homes, the damning truth is that we are all different people than we were, even 6 years ago. If I'm honest, we were different people at the end than we were when we started playing in 2000. I can fantasize, though:
- kheadrin, master of inventive role-playing (clever puzzles and engaging NPCs)
- nyminal, sage of rules lawyering (exhaustive knowledge of Shadowrun and a more-than-fair comprehension of D&D)
- strieson, virtuoso of battlefield tactics (thanks to extensive Battletech sessions)
- mfsfreak, champion of subtle, did-not-expect-THAT, characters (the quiet one)
- lordreaibn, ace of expressive storytelling (his stories were ALWAYS enjoyable, even when they weren't related to D&D)
- makeshift_guru, er, guru of Star Wars, and all around creative force (see what I did there? :) )
- Rick, wizard of unrestrained chaos (you could always count on him to stir the pot in a game, kick ass dealing with it, or at least die amusingly as a result)
lordreaibn's original Stahl campaign. Wait, no. Rick never played in Caeln. I miss those days. The comaradarie, the laughs, the adventures we shared. It isn't strictly a rose-tinted memory, either. I had some rather rough life issues in that six-and-a-half year span. Those games were my once-a-week escape from the mundanity of life, and to share a common vision of "what if" with kindred souls. Now, it will never be like that again. Even if we were to get together for a game, our approach would be completely different, and sadly, likely incompatible. That is assuming, of course, that we could coordinate a day on which to hold said hypothetical game.
I'm sure I'll be fine later. I was on an Edenbridge (Austrian symphonic metal band) kick tonight, and have listened to their discography in chronological order. What's that got to do with this post? I discovered Edenbridge not long after we started gaming on Sundays, and the early albums were inevitably on heavy rotation back then. That, coupled with my realization, had the effect of reminding me of times long past.
For now, I am going to ready myself for bed, and consider the reality of how life changes everything about us: what we value, how we think, what we say, how we say it, what we choose to do, how we eat, what we drive, where we live, and who we love.
I feel like Something™ wants to worm its way out of my brain, but I don't believe that it will happen tonight. Who knows? The one thing I can say I know for sure, is that nothing is certain.
...not even attempting to slay a monster in Dungeons & Dragons.
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