I’m not exactly the only one to write on Gygax, but hey why not. I originally started writing this for Slate but didn’t finish in time. However the good part is that means I can put in a bit of autobiographical and D&D-specific stuff that would never make it in Slate.

On Gary Gygax’s Ideas
I was once a D&D player – okay! I’ve said it. My first real character was a strong and charismatic paladin named, yes, “Timothy.†He was perfect in every way, more or less, and advanced slowly through the levels, and since he was basically supposed to be me, I was rather attached to him. One day, however, I made the mistake of going into a place called the Tomb of Horrors. (created, I might add, by Gygax). Rather, I was lured. Jason the dungeonmaster, who was also our babysitter, had a sadistic streak, and he goaded my brother and I and even Onil into playing a game that was way too hard for us. After a promising start Timothy was crushed lifeless by a large marble juggernaut. When the death came it was sudden, unavoidable, and completely devastating.
It was only a character but I took the death of “Timothy†a little hard. Hey – I was nine years old! I kept thinking there must be some way to bring in him back; but he lay buried under thousands of pounds of rock. And for some reason my babysitter never thought to say, poor kid, and bring him back to life somehow. He just packed up the game and said, too bad. Later on I realized that he had actually cheated to make us die – and I’m still bitter.

(The Tomb of Horrors)
After that my next character was a much safer choice. He wasn’t me — Drowdabeer was a dwarf whose chief attribute was that he was very hard to kill. Under D&D’s rules he could jump off a 100′ cliff and just brush himself off. I didn’t really like Drowdabeer quite as much as Timothy, but at least he didn’t die on me.
Instead and unfortunately Drowdabeer was a bit of a bully. For some reason I can’t quite remember, I’d often find a way to kill my friend Cory’s characters. Just as Cory was about to grab the treasure he’d find a poisoned crossbow bolt in his back. Maybe still bitter about the Tomb of Horros, I took it out on Cory. Luckily Cory and I are still friends, and maybe his D&D misfortunes played some tiny role in making Cory into the hugely successful author and Boing-Boing blogger that he is today.

(Cory Doctorow)
I could go on about our old D&D game but this is actually supposed to be about Gary Gygax, who died last week. I never knew much about Gygax the man, and in fact I didn’t know what he looked like until just now. But I know an awful lot about Gygax’s ideas. For Gygax was our patron saint – the man who had his name on every book; the guy who played the game first and played it right. It goes without saying that D&D affects your mind in all kinds of ways. (At some level, for example, I think of the classes I teach as just a sort of academic D&D campaign.) But Gygax had his own ideas within that world — a sort of ethos, a way of thinking, that affected all of us D&D players.

(Gary Gygax)
1. The main thing that Gygax taught is that you have to be very serious and rigorous about fantasy. I hasten to mention that this is an idea that can go too far. It can turn you into to someone who wears chain mail to work or refuses to associate with anyone who isn’t “chaotic neutral.†But what Gygax was teaching is that you sometimes have to lose yourself completely to get anything. Like Daniel Day Lewis acting, you have to inhabit the fantasy completely.
2. Along those lines Gygax also taught that the project of fantasy is collective. When I was in elementary and junior high school, the golden years of D&D, this was easy. Onil, Sean, Cory, Raja, my brother David, even Jason – we were all kids ready to get out of our heads. It helped that we went to an alternative school (the Alternative Learning Program) that regarded cynicism as a sin. And we actually had time set aside for playing D&D at school - it was great!
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