Tuesday, March 4, 2008

In Response to KFR's Tribute

Here's a crazy rant to purge the depths of the soul. (For the unfamiliar: this post may contain numerous, and possibly mentally damaging, D+D references as a continuation of my comments on KFR's blogsite - some references may seem unintelligible without casting the appropriate spells to unlock the arcane language) As to the inherent value of engaging in fantasy in order to temporarily escape the mind-numbing oppression of reality, I assert that the despotic tyranny of modern reality and social constraint is as life-draining and soul-stealing as the infernal gaze of an Arch-Lich. I must roll to successfully Turn this undead fiend by drawing on my virtuous nature and moral purity. Ooops, that didn't work too well as I seem to be falling into Lolth's Demonweb Pits. Back in the day when the original game expansion happened in the late 70's and early 80's, the game actually extended into a more diverse strata of social groups than one might think. As an 8th grader, I distinctly, and quite fondly, remember an alcohol enhanced game (wine coolers and Boone's farm of course, because that's all we could get) attracting a rogue band of wannabe valley girls of Charisma 15-17 who felt moved to check up on a minor shoulder injury I'd suffered in a football game the day before. Or more likely, as later experiences would teach me, they were employing their wiles to raid our hard-won horde of alcohol. In any case, it turned out well as they joined in the D+D game and everyone had a great old time engaging in juvenile innuendo. I actually had quite a few games go this way: atypical for standard D+D socialization, but back then my mischievous boyish charm, faux brooding intensity, and youthful visage played well until I was bludgeoned by the assault of my most recent decade of pain and torment. Life has hit me with a Ray of Enfeeblement and all of my attribute scores keep dropping from the slew of 18's I was originally born with toward those of an untenable character destined to die at level 1. The Arch-Lich that is the oppression of modern reality is gradually winning and I need to role a critical hit soon or face Entrapment. I miss those carefree times of junior high innocence when I still had passion and a spark in my eye. Now, honing bitterness and resentment into a Vorpal Blade, I stagger through the Minotaur's lair of the real world until Orcus emerges from the depths to drag me down to the infernal plane of perpetual shade. Thankfully, I still have enough obstinacy to refuse to yield to anything while I search for the means by which to rekindle my failing spirit. Hope remains, while the fellowship is true! I need a good get together with friends. Strength and Honor!!!