IntroD&Duction

Some time ago, a friend at church told me that her nephew had expressed an interest in Dungeons & Dragons, and this aunt expressed shock that her relative was unaware of my longtime interest in and passion for this game. I told the aunt I would be only too happy to talk to them about it and perhaps even play a game if the opportunity presented itself. Maybe we could even have it a rainy day event at our annual May Long Weekend Family Camp at Rundle's Mission. 

The planning for an event like that never came to pass but I told the aunt I would bring along some of my stuff just in case, and she and her mother could perhaps make our subject aware of this, as I didn't want him to feel any pressure from me, just opportunity. I was a teenaged boy myself once, after all, and am keenly aware of the variety of dynamics at play here.

Saturday was a pretty grey day indeed, so I spent part of the afternoon upstairs in the lodge by a window cleaning and assembling a unit of Greatswords for my Warhammer army. An entirely different nephew approached me and asked if the models I was working on were for D&D. I explained they were more for wargaming, but coincidentally, had brought some D&D items along and would be happy to show him if he was interested. He thanked me and went about his day while I completed my task (deliriously happy to find myself using these models after they languished unpainted for nearly two decades!).

The next day I got up early to help with preparations for the traditional Sunday breakfast, and helped with serving following a lovely outdoor service. When I was relieved from my duties, I enjoyed a hearty serving of pancakes and sausages with my family, and had just pushed away my empty plate and was cotemplating some horizontal self-care when this same curious individual from the day before tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned and saw that he had brought three other teenaged and teen-adjacent individuals with him, and he informed me, "Hey, so we're ready to play D&D whenever you are."

"Uh...yeah!" I stammered. "Sure thing! Give me a minute to grab my stuff and let's do it." I headed to the stairs so I could retrieve my D&D bag from my bunk, and apparently more than one person was moved to remark how I resembled either a parade marshal or the Pied Piper leading a cohort of teens to the upper floor. 

We quickly pulled a couple of tables together by the window, and I set up my DM screen at one end of it, then started laying out the rest of what I'd need. I was not completely prepared for four players by any stretch of the imagination, but not completely unprepared either. I had printed off five character sheets from the Phandelver starter set, having used them before and appreciated how much helpful info they contained beyond raw stats, including sample character names, a common stumbling block. I'd brought along some appropriate miniatures, including a couple of female iterations, which proved fortunate, as there was a female player present. She got first pick because of this, and the three fellows rolled off for first pick of the remaining characters. I handed out figures after they chose.

Tragically, I had only brought two sets of dice, which was not ideal, and had also forgotten that while the sheets did list some suggested spells, they did not contain any real details like ranges or damage and such, which was a real hold up for the wizard and cleric players. 

Instead of the bulky vinyl Chessex mat with a 1" grid I normally favour, I had brought along a set of dungeon tiles. These are great for improvising an environment on the fly, but much less useful for following an established dungeon, which I happened to be doing. Well, noted for next time, let's get at it, I thought.

I began by going over the character sheet, explaining classes, scores and saving throws (another note: next time, start by going over the array of dice - most people haven't worked with a full set of polyhedral randomizers before!).

This didn't take too long at all, and soon I found myself setting the scene for an Adventurer's League episode called The Dead at Highsun. Accepting a cleric's invitation to investigate a crypt in an ironically immaculate graveyard, Tim the Swordsman, Jim the Dwarven Cleric, Erich the Halfling Rogue and Navara the Elven Wizard (who actually played with a school group) very quickly found themselves trapped in a gas-filled chamber, but very quickly figured out the puzzle needed to not only save themselves, but also reveal a secret entrance to the unknown catacombs below!

Descending (mostly) boldly into the depths, they soon bested a trio of skeleton warriors, but the second room contained an unexpected challenge. In a lab-like setting with a cauldron, shelves of books and a table full of beakers, burners and bottles, a note read: "Raaxil. I have figured out how to complete the process. When you are ready, simply pour the contents of this blue pot into the cauldron and stir. The effects should be instantaneous, but DO NOT DRINK THE RESULTING POTION."

Reading this note prompted some wary glances amongst many of the group, but Tim's immediate question was, "Can I sip it?"

I blinked rapidly and shook my head. "Uh... well, yes, you can." I skimmed the room entry and noted that this would require a DC 20 Constitution save (ambitious even for a Dwarf with +3 Con, requiring a natural 17 or higher on a twenty-sided die) or Jim would take 6d6 poison damage. "Do you think you should though?"

From the other end of the table, two players expressed vehement opposition to this plan."Why would you do that?!" Navara's bewildered player asked. But not everyone was so opposed.

"He totally should," asserted Tim (Jim's player's brother). "Do it," he urged. "Do it!"

Erich spoke up. "Why don't we check out the rest of the room and these bookshelves first?" he suggested helpfully. Tim tried to indicate he can't read, but I explained all cleric roles require literacy, which I think he found a little disappointing.

They found a few more clues that eventually dissuaded the cleric from drinking a mysterious but undoubtedly malevolent liquid, but by that point Tim's curiosity was insatiable, so he grabbed the blue pot and headed towards the cauldron to pour it in to "see what would happen." I asked the other players what they were doing, and spent the next ten minutes improvising rules for a game of liquid keep-away, that saw Navara try to grab the pot from Tim and fail, but Erich managing to not only succeed, but also keep it away from Jim, whose inquisitiveness was similarly peaked and was grasping for it. 

When Tim stated his own intention to reclaim the pot, I looked at Erich and silently mouthed "smash it."

"Um, I smash the jar on the ground," he said.

"Aw," replied Tim.

I was so grateful that weapons hadn't been drawn that I completely overlooked an epic opportunity to reference Lonely Island's "Threw It On the Ground", but that was probably for he best anyhow. 

At any rate, the party advanced on to the final room, complete with a mock dragon hoard, teleportation circle and a number of inert bodies with a variety of dragon parts attached to them, which of course animated as zombies shortly after the adventurers began examining things.

The final fight scratched a lot of itches; the cleric got to heal the wizard after she dropped to a single hit point, the rogue got to sneak attack, magic missiles saved the day and Tim's greatsword was relentless. Zombies are a dramatic opponent as they actually get a saving throw against being taken out of action, so reducing them to zero hp is not enough on its own.  

There was a critical hit but also an important Death Save (following a failure), and as Erich's player wound up to roll my largest d20, the apprehension on his face was palpable, despite the fact that 1) this character hadn't exited three hours prior and 2) he might never actually play him again.

Truly, I was delighted to witness it, but even more delighted at the cheers around the table when he rolled a 17 (and not a natural 1), so that Jim could use his last spell slot to heal Erich and get him back into the game.

After the fight, they finished their examinations, destroyed the circle and reported back to Brother Keefe for their reward (25 gp each!) as well as levelling up.

Following the game, my four young charges expressed earnest appreciation for our game (more than once, in fact, over the next day or so), but I was just as grateful. 

Jim's player told me he was going to a D7D camp that summer with a friend, and was grateful for a chance to see what it was all about before being stuck all the way in. And as we were leaving today, Erich's player came over as I was loading the Lander to thank me again, and said he was already looking at starting a campaign with some of his friends. 

Hard to think of an outcome more satisfying than that!

The Greatswords that kind of caused the whole thing

Fancy Feasting at 59

I begin the final year of my fifties on Monday, so this weekend we went out for dinner. It doubles as our Mother's Day outing, just like it did when I was a boy, and Glory picked up the tab in exchange for the title to Mum's Jeep that I inherited in 2019 and which she has driven almost exclusively the past few years.

She was initially resistant to the idea of the trade dinner taking place on my birthday, thinking that I was cheating myself out of an extra meal out, but when I explained that her mother and I share a bank account, she understood and became quite agreable. She remained so when I asked if we could go to Atlas steak + fish, the restaurant attached to the casino in West Edmonton Mall, so that's where we went.

I put on a tie because, honestly, why not? I don't have a ton of cause to wear one anymore, and it is nice to give some intentionality to the event and just change things up.

Despite being a fancy place with a live piano player, most people were dressed pretty casually, but we all had some denim on so it's not like we stuck out or anything. Our server, Shea, seated us in a booth and before too long we were tucking into some fresh baked bread with blue cheese butter and a delicious order of beef carpaccio. 

Three of us ordered small to moderate steaks (none of us daring to look at the double orders like the porterhouse or 155 oz tomahawk) while Audrey got seared Ahi tuna, because, hey, it's not like we have that at home. 

We over-ordered the sides though, not understanding they were shareables, some of which came in delightful little cast iron pots. The girls were ecstatic with the whipped brie mashed potatoes, while I thought the Brussels sprouts with pistachio and mortadella crisp were aboslutely amazing. And of course, the enormous pepper mill never fails to delight.

Glory added a lodster tail while Fenya got seared scallops to accompany their steaks. We also had a peppercorn sauce prepared  at our tableside, which involved an impressive amount of flame and was also delectably savoury. More than enough sauce for six steaks too, if it came to that.

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The steak were done to a turn and very well seasoned, but I mentioned how they made me feel better about my own steak game. "That's why I got the tuna," Audrey said. (I'm grilling steaks tomorrow just to use up the leftover sauce!)

Oh, and before the steaks even came over, they presented us with a selection of knives to choose from, and Shea outlined suggestions based on weight, grip and style, relative to the dish ordered. Maybe y'all see this all the time, but it was a first for me and made me feel a little provincial (despite recognizing the Laguiole knives from the bees mounted above the grip), but not in a bad way.

Not my pic, nicked it off the web, but just like this

It was all quite delicious and even a bit elegant - dining with three lovely ladies will have that impact though - and for my birthday, they even threw in a complimentary dessert. Having never tried baked Alaska, that seemed the obvious choice. The girls hadn't even heard of this perhaps fanciest of treats, and were delighted by the presentation as well.

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The combination of spongy cake, cool, fruity sorbet and toasted meringue was absolutely amazing, and no, like the peppercorn sauce, I shall not be attempting to make this at home!

We finished our meal with a bottle of icewine, a drink that always takes Audrey and I back to our time in Ontario. They served it in snifters, and Glory, surprisingly, found the taste superior to the smell, while I find such beverages a feast for the olfactory as well.

It was a wonderful experience from pillar to post, with wodnerful treatment from the staff. Out budget means it will take another special occasion before we return, but I honestly hope it isn't too long!

Funny story about this picture: both girls commented on how much they liked it, which I found tremendously gratifying, as I am more than a little self-conscious, especially living in a household full of gorgeous people. 

Then Glory offhandedly said, "Yeah, I think if you were to pass away suddenly, this is almost certainly the picture we would use for your little, you know, funeral card."

Fenya gasped. "That is exactly what I was thinking too!"

Ah, the joys of family. (Honestly.)

Canned Tragedy, or "Whoops..."

The road to hobby hell, it seems, truly is paved with good intentions.

The Space Hulk boardgame was my introduction in 1990 or so to the Warhammer 40,000 universe: board sections to lay out a derelict spaceship (the titular hulk), counter for doors and other details, and most critically, the miniatures: 20 or so alien Genestealers, and 10 Space Marine Terminators in Tactical Dreadnought Armour. Sure, they were primitively sculpted but they fully captured the imagination, and laid the foundation for my first two 40K armies, as well as over a decade of working with the publisher, Games Workshop.

About a year after parting ways with GW in 2007, I picked up a copy of the revamped game (with far cooler figures) from the Kingsway store I had once looked after as manager, then cell manager, and finally regional manager. The box was damaged so the manager kindly discounted it for a former colleague.

I have unpacked the box a few times, long enough to have applied a coat of blue to the 'Stealers and red plus a black wash to the Blood Angel marines, and there is photographic evidence of having played with Totty in 2018 - which may be the only actual game I have played with this set.

The unfinished nature of these models began nagging at me of late, and in truth, I have no earthly idea why. But for whatever reason, I was compelled to dust off the Genestealers recently with the intent of completing them in 1-2 weeks.

With the blue applied to their carapaces, it was really just a question of  painting over the exposed fleshy bits and then coating that with a purply Speed Paint, and finally picking out the claws, teeth, eyes and other details.

Oh, and the bases, which are overwrought and underbalanced but I love them. Speed Paint stood me in good stead once again for things like extensive skull-based inlay or wiring trunks and such.

A couple of weeks of listening to podcasts and Project Hail Mary interviews (as well as the awesome audiobook), and they were all done - not great by any stretch, barely good in places, but completed and table-worthy after nearly two decades! 

Now just to varnish them. I grabbed a full can and headed to the front step, shaking it vigorously.

I was on about my third pass when I realized I was re-priming my models. 

It had been so long since using this particular spray, Roughcoat, that I had completely forgotten that it was a grey primer, not at all like the 'Ardcoat gloss varnish I had confused it with. 

I raced into the house and tossed them into the sink with running water. I soaped up a soft -bristled brush and took that to them as well, but it accomplished very little.

Well, that isn't quite true - the moisture re-activated some of the first-generation Speed Paint I had used, de-tinting many of the heads and hands of my fearsome aliens, as well as leaving fuchsia spots on the counter top that took significant effort to remove. And I suppose some of the fresher primer was washed or rubbed off as well.

Most people I have related this mishap to have been very understanding - a 'there but for the grace of God go I' sort of thing I imagine. And even my initial fury at my own stupidity has relented a bit now, five days later. I mean, at the end of the day, even marred like this, those 'Stealers still look better to me now than they did unpainted.

I am unsure what, if anything, I will do about these models. I may try inking them or touching them up in some fashion, or perhaps I will just play with them as is.  For the time being, they are just going to sit in the box until I finish the Terminators - hopefully completing them within another decade or so. ; )