The Encumbrance of Ethereal Lycanthropy

One day, many years ago, actually it must have been almost 20 years ago (yes, I’m old as hell, now get off my lawn!), my wife and I were in the middle of an extremely long drive home (and we may have only been dating at the time) from visiting her family when we decided to play a little game.  It was just one of those silly little games parents often used to play with kids to stave off boredom on long drives.  Except we didn’t have kids.  We were just trying to keep each other awake and alert on the long drive, and maybe keep our own boredom at bay.

DISCLAIMER: Because I’m old as hell, this was in the days before mp3 players and handheld gaming systems. Our first car didn’t even have a CD player, so we were at the mercy of whatever radio stations we could pick up along the way.  Or the passenger could read to the driver.  Or we could play games.

I don’t know the name of the game we played that day, but I remember the rules.  It might have been called “Picnic.”  The first player started by saying, “I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing along a(n):” and then named an object that started with the letter “A.”  The next player repeated the phrase, along with the first player’s “A” object and then added one starting with “B” and so on.  So, the fifth turn might sound something like, “I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing along an abacus, a banana, a cucumber, a dalmation, and an…. ummmm…. elephant.”  The game was won when the other player forgot one of your items or couldn’t come up with an item that started with the appropriate letter.  If you’ve never tried it, trust me.  ”Q” is a bitch.

To my wife’s dismay, I quickly figured out a strategy to increase my chance of winning.  I started coming up with the most obscure words I could think of on the spur of the moment.  I was aiming for words I didn’t think she knew.  I drove her to the dictionary, which served as the other great point of this strategy.  If a word had to be verified, it messed up her rhythm.  Longer pauses between repetitions means its harder to remember the words the next time around.

I don’t remember all the words I used that day (after all these years, it’s a wonder I can remember any of them), but I do remember a few.  My word for “H” was Howitzer (maybe there were going to be giant ants reminiscent of the movie Them! at this picnic).  My word for “L” was Lycanthrope.

That’s right, Lycanthrope.  I was bringing a lycanthrope to the picnic.

My wife protested.  She verified it.  She asked me where I learned words like that.  My answer has lived in the secret language of our marriage (she called it “i-can’t-throw-up” and the moniker stuck) since that day.  I learned them from gaming.

I started playing Dungeons & Dragons when I was 11 years old.  I started, right from the beginning, as a Dungeon Master.  If you’ve ever read the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters’ Guide (1979), then you know that it’s a hefty book for an 11 year old.  Between it’s mystical covers (you know, the one with the mostly naked chick struggling in the grip of the giant loincloth-clad red guy… errr Efreet) lay 240 pages of sheer awesomeness.  Also 240 pages of some of the most advanced vocabulary an 11 year old is likely to encounter.

I read it with my trusty dictionary at my side.

My dictionary became my weapon to conquer words like dexterity, constitution, and charisma.  I slew locutious foes such as milieu, ethereal, and encumbrance.  I pulverized opponents like dweomer, phylactery, and psionics.  And of course, that nemesis, the lycanthrope.

I honestly can’t credit Dungeons & Dragons for the Howitzer.  The giant illustrated history of World War II book my parents got me for my 12th birthday gets the blame for that one.

My point, such as it is, is that I learned a plethora of new words from playing Dungeons & Dragons (and other role-playing games) as a child.  The games improved my vocabulary.  They also helped me with problem solving, time management, teamwork, leadership skills, and a whole host of other things.

Glen Weldon, over at NPR, learned his lessons from comic books.  I highly recommend that you click on the link and check out his excellent post.

Comic books, and especially role-playing games like Dungeons & Dragons, have been much maligned by both parents and the educational establishment for decades.  Educators have only recently begun to embrace the power of role-playing games to teach some important concepts, or have at least begun to tolerate rpg clubs in schools.

Brian Pedersen, a teacher in Denmark (who I recently encountered on the net), has started an initiative called Kids Need to Game.  His aim is to get people to donate new and used role-playing games, rpg books, dice, etc. to the program so that schools like his can have them in their libraries.  I think it’s an excellent program.

I agree with Glen and Brian.  Kids need to feed their “nerd power.”  Kids Need to Game.  What do you think?  If you’re a gamer, what positive things did gaming teach you as a child?