One of the things I try hard to stop myself doing, and fail miserably to achieve, is getting wound up over silly little things. Life is really to short to worry about the fact that the books in Waterstones are not shelved alphabetically, or that some nincompoop newsreader doesn’t know the difference between a mountain and a molehill, or that the well-meaning buffoon next door (WMBND) has never actually played Dungeons and Dragons but thinks they are an expert on it because their younger cousin’s best friend’s boyfriend once borrowed a copy of the Dungeon Master’s Guide from his next door neighbour.
I have played Dungeons and Dragons.
I’ll have you know my Illusionist was quite exceptional.
And don’t let me get me started on my amazing Ranger.
Although the incident with the wolf cubs eating our Paladin was a little embarrassing….
Anyway, picture the scene. There you are trying to coordinate a day of sparkling entertainment, and you have been asked specifically to set up and run a game of Dungeons and Dragons for old times’ sake. You dust off the DM’s Guide, break out the Monster Manual and unearth the Deities and Demigods. You spend a nostalgic weekend prepping a dungeon, supplying back-stories for all the orcs and goblins, setting intricate traps and hiding treasure. You plan out complex tricks and puzzles to stimulate your players. You order in snacks and drinks. You sharpen pencils, dust the dice and produce copies of character sheets.
The team gathers and cracks their collective knuckles in anticipation of a great session. The air is electric with anticipation.
Then the WMBND arrives with a draughts board and disrupts the party.
How does that make you feel?
That’s how I feel when someone utters the dreaded phrase “Oh, I know how to fix that database error! It’s simple. ”