DunDraCon 35 – How to Enjoy My First Convention?

Let me tell you about my first convention:  I was in middle school at the time, and I walked through some sci-fi thingy where they had a bunch of stuff that I can’t remember.  Cool, huh?

I remember not really being all that impressed.  Actually, I was downright disappointed.  You see, I like comics, and had a good collection of X-men stuff, Spiderman stuff, Conan stuff, and my favorite – Groo.   So for me to be at a comic book convention was pretty cool.

Unfortunately, as soon as I walked in, I saw comics that were selling for $10, $20, and $30+ bucks, and I said, “what the freak?!  Who would pay that for a comic?” Mind you, I was used to walking into the 7-11 and picking up my Groo for a buck or two.  When I saw that comics actually had covers with cardboard backing – all for the book’s protection, I wrote off comics right there.  Ergo and ipso facto, I wrote off all conventions by association.  Not once since then have I wanted to go to any convention.  I was burned.

So, for the past two years I’ve been gaming off and on with John Lewis and Colin Dowling, and they’ve been telling me all these cool stories about their past gaming conventions.  The getaways, the games, the gaming stuff, the fun gamers, the hot larpers… uh, and so on.  They say it’s just a great atmosphere.  So, my interest has been growing…

DunDraCon is coming up in a few months (four?), and I’ve decided to attend.  Of course, this assumes that the jail can do without me – we’ll see, but that’s the plan, anyway.  Aside from what I’ve been told, I really still have no idea what to expect.  After hearing all these stories, I feel that I may be setting myself up for disappointment.  So, I’m asking for a little help…

Assuming that I go to DunDraCon, how can I make it a great experience?  I’m looking for any and all tips and advice that will help me enjoy the event, and make me look forward to future gaming conventions.  Best comment with advice wins a free set of Mini Counters! – Cause that’s how I role.

Oh, you’ll also win if you send me the very first issue of Groo, in great condition, sealed in a hardcover, bullet-proof case, signed by the warrior himself.

[Random thought that has nothing to do with this article: I just had a birthday two days ago.  I don’t know if it’s good or bad that just before my birthday I realized I was one year younger than I thought I was.  I was sitting there arguing with my wife over it, culminating with me counting years on my fingers.  So, one year younger – I don’t know if that’s a win or a loss.]

License to Rube

This is a hard world we find ourselves in, where everyone is looking to steal our money, screw us over, and make wee-wee on our hats.  This is a world that hates and punishes naiveté, and loves and rewards cynicism and suspicion.  Trust no one and fear everyone, strike before you’re struck, an extended hand conceals a blade, the arm around your back connects to the hand in your pocket.  It’s an unfortunate reality, but this is a perfectly sensible reaction to this world, so slimy full of realtors, spammers, lawyers, and liars.

Sadly, we carry our real-world wounds into the games we play, which transforms our characters, first imagined as sweetly smiling pure souls with cartoon birds lighting on their shoulders, into gritty, hard-bitten, heartless, soulless bastards.  This may be because of experiences with a DM that shattered hope and trust like a cinderblock on a crystal ornament, and we have decided we cannot allow ourselves to be hurt like that again.

Players who are young (figure under 14 years old) or brand new to gaming can be unspoiled by distrust and doubt, which means they might actually release the defeated kobold chieftain, and might actually touch the faintly glowing altar in the middle of the cobwebby temple, and might actually believe the exotic beauty needing an escort back to her underground city.  The paragon level cynic cries, “Kill the chieftain!  Avoid the altar!  Ignore the beauty!” Each of these situations is obviously a trap.

And here’s my question:  So what?

When I first started gaming (many lifetimes ago), when I was young and dumb and full of… um… foolishness, I regularly blundered into regrets and traps and betrayals, and these were in games riddled with DM statements like, “The room appears empty,” and, “The wardrobe appears safe,” and, “The woman appears honest.” Naturally, all of those “APPEARS” rang my alarm bells, but I still got caught, hurt, nailed, and crushed.

Every villain that got away always came back, more dangerous, better equipped, and insane with the need for revenge.  Every time I didn’t obsessively prod the floor with a 10′ pole, I fell into a deep pit with poisoned spikes at the bottom.  Every femme I trusted turned out to be extremely fatale, usually working with the escaped villain and often the architect of all those spiked pits.

And despite all that pain, despite all those times I was burned, I had some real fun in those way-back-when games.  I am so careful and worried and neurotic in the real world, I could really enjoy being reckless in a fake one, rushing ahead, devil may care, and let’s see what happens.  I’ve seen it in so many games, where the party is skulking fearfully around a chest as though it were an unexploded bomb (which sometimes, it is), and then somebody grunts, “Ah, screw it,” and kicks the chest open.  In the moment that this happens, there’s always a look on that player’s face, a look of relief, a look of release, a look of freedom.

What I’m calling for here are more “Ah, screw it” moments.  And why not?  What is at risk exactly?  I’ve placed several of my characters in dangerous circumstances, and even watched sadly as a few of them died, and outside of some mild razzing from other players, I never personally suffered from the outcome.  The DM often rewarded such brash action, or, failing that, didn’t overtly punish it.  Usually, I wound up with a funny, wild, loopy story with which I could bore friends and family for years afterwards.

Happy Ending Example: In a post-apocalypse game, our group was under assault by metal-heads inside a sprawling mansion, and Steve and I needed to get across a wide hallway that ran north-south along the mansion’s spine.  We knew there were leather and spiked killers waiting for us to show our faces, so there we were, crouched and dithering inside the laundry room.  Finally, I stood up, turned to Steve and said, “Cover me,” and made my dash.  I was two strides across the hallway when a metal-head leaned from a nearby room, leveling his rifle on me.  I dove, snapping up my .357 and firing… CRITICAL!  I vaporized the top of his head from the eyebrows up, then curled into a tight ball and rolled into the room across the way.

At the table, my heart was going thumpa-thumpa-thumpa and my hands were slick with sweat, but I had my moment, all because I was willing to say, “Ah, screw it,” and try something extremely stupid.  But what if it hadn’t gone my way?  What if I fired and missed?  What if the metal-head fired and hit?  I’d still have a great story (“Remember that time you ran out into that hallway and got shot six times?”), just without a great ending.

No-So-Happy Ending Example: In our D&D game, Kevin was the quintessential “ah, screw it” player, and always acted without thinking, kicking down doors, charging into combat, and chugging unidentified potions.  He found himself lots of feet up a tree when an orc shambled into the clearing underneath him.

Immediately he said, “I jump onto it.”
We all stared in horror, and the DM, grinning in bemusement, asked, “How many hit points do you have left?”
Kevin looked down, then back up and said, “One!” He didn’t seem remotely concerned.
“How do you expect to survive the fall?” the DM asked.
“I don’t know.  But I should hurt the orc, right?” You can’t argue with that kind of logic.
So he leapt from the tree, rolled to hit… and got a natural 1.  Ker-SPLAT!
Once we had all stopped laughing, Kevin asked with a sniffy kind of pride, “Any chance my 20 oil flasks explode?”

I am issuing a challenge to every DM who runs games for me, and it is this:  bring it.  Bring your enemies, bring your traps, bring your double crosses.  I’ll buy into it all, swallow it hook, line, and spiked chain, and still want more.  I am going to live (and probably die) dangerously.  And after it’s all done, I’m going to have some stories to tell.

Unusual Gaming Terms

Here’s a list of unusual gaming terms that you either might not know the definition of, or the correct pronunciation (in truth, I had to look up about half of them).  They’re not game specific (like THACO is), but can apply to gaming in general.

Please, dispute or add to any of the following…

  • Asmodeus – [az-muh-DEE-uhs] – the prince of demons, or an evil spirit.  Most pronounce it incorrectly. – Answers.com, Dictionary.com
  • Paizo – rhymes with [pie-dough], comes from a biblical Greek word meaning “to play.”  paizo.com
  • Skype – is a proprietary software application that allows users to make voice calls over the Internet.  RPGs can be played this way.
  • Trope – A trope is a common pattern, theme, or motif in a story – words are generally used in a sense different from their literal meaning.
  • Sandbox game – a non-linear game, free from boundaries or railroading.
  • Railroading – regardless of the desired actions of players, the gamemaster attempts to steer the players down a predetermined path, possibly taking free-will away.
  • Godmoder – a godmoder is one step further than a powergamer (some say worse).  He attempts to ‘win the game’ using whatever/all means available.
  • Beer & Pretzels Game – beer and pretzels are light and cheap snacks.  Not much thought goes into preparing or consuming this meal.  It’s perfect to go with a light and cheap game, one that requires little effort, but still hits the spot.
  • Delve – “Dungeon Delve provides the DM with an array of small, easy-to-run dungeons each specifically designed for a night of gaming.” link
  • LARP – live action role playing.  People dress up and role play as if they were playing a table-top RPG, but without the table, paper, dice, etc.  Oftentimes the “game” is based off a specific table-top game.

Classic Fantasy, Make Your Fantasy Setting Fantastic

I once introduced a magic item to the group, gave it a name, gave it a backstory, impressed how the item was somehow important, and then gave it to a player character.  Before the end of the session, the player was trying to get rid of it so that he could get two other magical items.

So, magic in 4E is plentiful.  I can dig it.  I do dig it.  It makes for cool customization, bonuses, and benefits.  4e’s magic items allotment has added something to the game, but it has also taken something away.  Now, magic items are practically everyday tools.  In your typical 4e game, every Tom, Dick, and Harry has a magical item.  No, he has several.

“Anybody need a magic sword? No?  Ok, I throw it in the Bag of Holding with the magical bow and wizard’s staff.”

Ok.  Moving on.

In the last three campaigns that I was involved in, we had:

  • one gnome
  • one shifter
  • one half-orc
  • one tiefling
  • two dwarves
  • two elves
  • two eladrin
  • four dragonborn
  • annnnnnd one human

Where are my humans?  Sure, most of the towns we enter are filled with humans.  Most of the NPCs we talk to are human.  They’re the most abundant race in the game world, yet practically non-existent in the gaming group.

“Oh look, we’ve come across a group of travelers – two shifters, a deva, a dwarf, and another half-orc.”

Ok.  Moving on, still…

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve run into a tribe of goblins, a band of hobgoblins, or a pack of orcs.  Not only are they all over the place, but they have their own societies, cultures, traditions, and laws.  And, they all have children!  Oooh, scary. They just don’t really seem like monsters.  They may as well be races for us to play.  Wait, they are.

“Well, let’s go talk to that minotaur and see if he has what we need.”

What it boils down to…

I’m sorry, but all of these magic items, all of these non-human races, and all of these non-monster monsters just don’t seem like my preferred fantasy setting.  When I think of the fantasy genre, I think of:

  • Excalibur
  • Willow
  • The Hobbit
  • Lord of the Rings
  • Conan
  • Beastmaster
  • Hercules
  • Sinbad
  • Clash of the Titans
  • Dragonheart
  • The Dragon Slayer
  • Red Sonja
  • The Sword and the Sorceress
  • and on and on and on…

All of the above movies belong to what I call “Classic Fantasy.”  Are there some magic items?  Yeah, a few, and they’re powerful.  Are there some non-human races? Yeah, a few, and they’re mysterious.  Are there some orcs? Yeah, a few, and they’re nasty.

I want my fantasy to be powerful, mysterious, and nasty.  I want my character to be a nobody in a vast world where home is relatively safe, and everything outside of that is unknown, wild, and dangerous.  I want my fantasy to be fantastic.

What now?

Classic Fantasy is going to be the first project here at Stuffer Shack.  I’ll be adding ways to turn your fantasy game into a classic fantasy game.

  • Many races are going to be converted into different types of humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings (with backstories and histories).
  • I’ll explain how to converge magic items into one powerful item, or how to make characters of equal strength without magic items.
  • And I’ll rewrite some of today’s watered down enemies into old school monsters – all mean and nasty-like.

I hope you find it all useful!