something I learned playing Dungeons & Dragons

The original Dungeons & Dragons game, subtitled Rules for Fantastic Medieval Wargames – Campaigns Playable with Paper and Pencil and Miniature Figures, was written by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, and was published by TSR in 1974.

It is a co-operative role-playing game set in a medieval fantasy world in which multiple players form a group that is led through an adventure by one player who assumes the role of the storyteller, or Dungeon Master. The Dungeon Master makes up story events or chooses them from one of the published adventures, to which the players may respond in different manners to create a unique gaming experience. The adventure itself is only limited by the imagination of the players around the table.

I didn’t want to assume everyone knows what D&D is. Hard to tell a story that will resonate with a reader unless they know what the hell you’re talking about. Better safe than sorry and so forth.

I was a sophomore in high school when I first heard someone talking about it and by junior year I was addicted. As a result I could bore you to death with stories of high adventure, great victories and bitter defeats, but that’s not really what this is about.

I could also tell you about how the escapism of D&D provided a dorky high school kid with very few friends a refuge from his harsh reality… but that’s not what this is about either.

It’s really about explaining how a 4^th level halfling could have more hit points than a human.

I know, I know, you need a little more information. Just stay with me though, there’s a point to all of this.

Halflings, also called hobbits, are short, nimble humanoids that typically stand between three and four feet tall and weigh around 30 to 40 pounds.

Hit points are units used to specify the amount of damage a character can take before they die.

I played a halfling. Most weekends my nights would be spent exploring caves and castles, putting my character in harm’s way again and again in the search for treasure. Occasionally my character would find himself in a village, walking around amongst the hard-working peasants.

Peasants that had between 1 and 6 hit points.

I had 18.

Meaning that if some terrifying monster attacked the village I would be forced to grab my trusty short sword and defend the much taller, much stronger men. Men with swords much longer and much broader. Much more much.

It wasn’t until years later that it started to make sense.

Going from 1^st level to 2^nd didn’t make me taller or increase my strength. Going from 2^nd to 3^rd didn’t allow me to grow protective scales or razor-sharp horns. 3rd to 4th? Same thing.

Physically I was the same hobbit as when I started. What had changed was my relationship to fate. While the villagers would succumb to the first bite or swipe of a claw, fortune would always smile on me somehow and allow me to dodge the blow. Sure, dexterity and other characteristics played a small role, but it was experience that allowed me to survive what would have otherwise been a fatal strike.

Experience.

Measured by every time I left the comfortable and ventured out into the dark. The unknown.

The only way my character gained experience? I had to play the game. I had to put him out there.

While the cool kids were drinking and getting laid, I was learning life’s most important lesson; “Be bold and mighty forces will come to your aid.”

There is no doubt that Johann Wolfgang von Goethe would have played D&D as a kid. The only question would be if he have played a paladin or a thief.

That one you’ll have to figure out yourself.

You could argue that my halfling was just an invention. A fiction I created. But the terrible truth is that’s all any of us are. A story we tell ourselves and the world. The terrible truth of so many villagers (and their 1 hit point) is the sanguine secret for the rest of us characters.

Go level up.