Friday, June 10, 2011
That'll Do, Pig. That'll Do.
Suddenly the boy looked at me from the passenger seat and said, 'Can we go to the convention again next year?"
"Of course," I smiled. A couple of day's before, we had been knee-deep in the North Texas Role Playing Convention, strutting our nerd-boy gaming selves around a hotel in Irving and wallowing in the old school.
"You know those old guys you liked when you were a kid?" he grinned. "I liked playing with them."
I chuckled and changed lanes. Luck and persistence had allowed us to play with the likes of Frank Mentzer, Jim Ward, Erol Otus and Dennis Sustare - names that were as unto RPG gods to me when I was my son's age. "Me too."
"And you remember when you were talking to Harley before the game," he said, suddenly looking at is hands. I got the feeling he was leading the witness. "And you said that you had played a lot of 4e, but after a while, you decided you didn't like it and you just wanted to go back home?"
With a nod, I wondered what he was getting at.
"I . . ." he fidgeted, "I kind of understand what you meant by 'home' now."
I gulped and kept on driving.