Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Blind Azathoth" data-source="post: 3414631" data-attributes="member: 22041">Well, I'll tell you, but I must warn you first: this is a tale of unpleasantness. It doesn't have a happy ending. It's a gritty tale of addiction in the slums of suburbia.It started when I was seventeen. I had a friend who I had thought was a nice guy, but one day, after school, he approached me and asked me if I'd ever heard of "Dungeons & Dragons." I told him I have, but had never played—"I know what that kind of thing does to you," I told him. He just laughed, and stared at me strangely, and said in a quiet voice, "You have no idea, man. You want to try some?"I recoiled, pushed him away, and insisted I did not. I was a good kid—I didn't want to get mixed up in that kind of stuff. We grew distant then, as he became increasingly obsessed; he spent all of his time and money playing or buying new supplements or hunting for new DMs from whom he could get his fix. He was sick, and I could see it, but I couldn't help him...he didn't want to be helped.Worse still, I could see him working on our other mutual friends. I tried to stop him, tried to dissuade them, but it was too late; I hadn't reached them in time, and after just a few experiences with it, they were hooked.All of my friends grew more insistent; they believed I was a coward for not trying, that I was some brainwashed ignorant. They urged me to try it before I shunned it. Still I resisted—but when I turned eighteen, they made their decision for me. After going out to eat on my birthday, they took me back to one of their houses, and in their basement, they produced the instruments that ruined my life: the 3.5 core books and a set of dice they had bought for me.They stopped me from leaving, forced me to sit down in a chair with them; they gave me a character sheet, which I looked upon with disgust, but they forced me to take it; they threatened and cajoled and mocked me until I crumbled. I wept as I rolled my first die and my friends looked on with a maniacal gleam in their eyes.As my pre-generated Halfling barbarian, Milo Tealeaf, attacked for the first time—as I rolled a twenty-sided die to decide whether or not I hit an orc in the face with an axe for the very first time—I felt a sudden rush, a feeling of anticipation greater than any I have ever known. And as it slowly rolled to a stop, I held my breath—everything seemed to go in slow motion—the die was moving slower, slower—rolling to a stop—ah—there!—A twenty. I let out my held breath in a gasp of pleasure. I felt like I was on fire and baby did it hurt so good.It was at that moment, in the basement of a friend's house while they looked on with glee, that I started gaming, and I've never stopped. I have sunk deeper and deeper into this dependence on role-playing, and have begun buying supplements and adventures and even running my own game, providing others with satisfaction of the same hunger I have, and that too is its own kind of exhilaration.Pelor save me, I am an addict.</blockquote>

Verification