across the sea, a pale moon rises.

I just found out that Gary Gygax died. He was only 69.

I failed my save vs. stunning blow, so forgive me if this isn't the most polished thing in the world.

For most geeks, RPGs are a huge part of who we are, and many of the games I've loved -- and continue to love -- probably wouldn't exist as they do without Gary Gygax. The news reports are calling him "the father of D&D," but he was really the father of all role playing games, whether they were played with dice and paper, a deck of cards, or on a computer. Yeah, wargames existed before D&D, and fantasy existed before D&D, but D&D is the game that introduced fantasy gaming to my generation.

I didn't know him, and never met him, but his impact upon my life can't be overstated.

To honor his passing, I'd like to share an excerpt from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Geek, from Happiest Days of Our Lives:

December, 1983

I sat on the floor in Aunt Val’s house and opened up her Christmas present to me. It was a red box with a really cool-looking dragon on the front of it. Inside, there were a few books, some dice, a map, and a crayon to color in the dice.

“That’s a game that I hear lots of kids like to play, Willow,” she said. “It’s dragons and wizards and those things you liked from The Hobbit. The back says you use your imagination, and I know what a great imagination you have.” My brother played with Legos and my cousins played with handheld electronic games. I felt a little gypped.

“Wow,” I said, masking my disappointment. “Thanks, Aunt Val!”

Later, while the other kids played with Simon and Mattel Electronic Football, I sat near the fireplace and examined my gift. It said that I could be a wizard or a fighter, but there weren’t any pieces that looked like that. There were a lot of weird dice, but I had to color in the numbers. That seemed silly, but at least it was something to do, so I grabbed the black crayon and rubbed it over the pale blue dice, just like the instructions said.

Aunt Val (who was my favorite relative in the world throughout my entire childhood and right up until she died a few years ago) walked into the living room. “What do you think, Willow?”

“I colored the dice,” I said, and showed her the result. “But I haven’t read the book yet.”

She patted my leg. “Well, I hope you like it.” She moved to the other side of the room, where my cousin Jack poked at a Nintendo Game and Watch.

I opened the Player’s Guide and began to read.

February, 1984

It was afternoon PE in fifth grade, and I was terrified. I ran and jumped and ducked, surrounded by a jeering crowd of my classmates. The PE teacher did nothing to stop the attack – and, in fact, encouraged it.

“Get him!” someone yelled as I fell to the asphalt, small rocks digging into my palms. I breathed hard. Through my adrenaline-fueled flight-or-fight response, the world slowed, the jeering faded, and I wondered to myself why our playground was just a parking lot and why we had to wear corduroy pants in the middle of a Southern California heat wave. Before I could offer any answers, a clear and loud voice spoke from within my head. “Hey,” it said. “You’d better get up and move, or you’re dead.”

I nodded my head and looked up in time to see the red playground ball, spinning in slow motion, as the word “Voit” rotated into view. Pain exploded across my face and a mighty cheer erupted from the crowd. The PE teacher blew her whistle.

I don’t know how I managed to be the last kid standing on our team. I usually ran right to the front of the court so I could get knocked out quickly and (hopefully) painlessly before the good players got worked up by the furor of battle and started taking head shots, but I’d been stricken by a bout of temporary insanity – possibly caused by the heat – on this February day, and I’d actually played to win the game, using a very simple strategy: run like hell and hope to get lucky.

I blinked back tears as I looked up at Jimmie Just, who had delivered the fatal blow. Jimmie was the playground bully. He spent as much time in the principal’s office as he did in our classroom, and he was the most feared dodgeball player at the Lutheran School of the Foothills.

He laughed at me, his long hair stuck to his face in sweaty mats, and sneered. “Nice try, Wil the Pill.”

I picked myself up off the ground, determined not to cry. I sucked in deep breaths of air through my nose.

Mrs. Cooper, the PE teacher, walked over to me. “Are you okay, Wil?” she asked.

“Uh-huh,” I lied. Anything more than that and I risked breaking down into humiliating sobs that would follow me around the rest of the school year, and probably on into sixth grade.

“Why don’t you go wash off your face,” she said, not unkindly, “and sit down for a minute.”

“Okay,” I said. I walked slowly across the blacktop to the drinking fountains. Maybe if I really took my time, I could run out the clock and I wouldn’t have to play another stupid dodgeball game.

January, 1984

Papers scattered across my bed appeared to be homework to the casual observer, but to me they were people. A thief, a couple of wizards, some fighters: a party of adventurers who desperately wanted to storm The Keep on the Borderlands. But without anyone to guide them, they sat alone, trapped in the purgatory of my bedroom, straining behind college-ruled blue lines to come to life.

I tried to recruit my younger brother to play with me, but he was 7, and more interested in Monchichi. The kids in my neighborhood were more interested in football and riding bikes, so I was left to read through module B2 by myself, wandering the Caves of Chaos and dodging Lizard Men alone.

February, 1984

I washed my face and drank deeply from the drinking fountain. By the time I made it back to the benches along the playground’s southern edge, I’d lost the urge to cry, but my face radiated enough heat to compete with the blistering La Crescenta sun.

I sat down near Simon Teele, who, thanks to the wonders of alphabetization, ended up with me and Harry Yan (the school’s lone Asian kid) on field trips, on fire drills, and in chapel. Simon was taller than all of us, wore his hair down into his face, and really kept to himself. He was reading an oversized book that sort of looked like a textbook, filled with charts and tables.

We weren’t officially friends, but I knew him well enough to make polite conversation.

“Hey,” I said. “Why don’t you have to play dodgeball?”

“Asthma,” he said.

“Lucky,” I said. “I hate dodgeball.”

“Everyone hates dodgeball,” he said, “except Jimmie Just.”

“Yeah,” I said, relieved to hear someone else say out loud what I’d been thinking since fourth grade.

“Hey,” I said. “What are you reading?”

He held up the book and I saw its cover: a giant statue, illuminated by torches, sat behind an archway. Two guys were on its head, prying loose one of its jeweled eyes, as a group of people stood at the base. One was clearly a wizard; another was obviously a knight.

“Player’s Handbook,” he said. “Do you play D&D?”

I gasped. According to our ultra-religious school, D&D was Satanic. I looked up for teachers, but none were nearby. A hundred feet away on the playground, another game of dodgeball was underway. I involuntarily flinched when I heard the hollow pang! of the ball as it skipped off the ground.

“You’re going to get in trouble if you get caught with that,” I said.

“No, I won’t,” he said. “If I just keep it turned upside down, they’ll never see it. So do you play or not?”

“I have the red box set,” I said, “and a bunch of characters, but I don’t have anyone to play with.”

“That’s Basic,” he said. “This is Advanced.”

“Oh.”

“But if you want, you could come over to my house this weekend and we could play.”

I couldn’t believe my good luck. With a dodgeball to the face, Fate put me on the bench next to the kid who, over the next few months, helped me take my first tentative steps down the path to geekdom. He had a ton of AD&D books: the Dungeon Master’s Guide, which had a truly terrifying demon on the cover, and would result in certain expulsion if seen at school; the Monster Manual, which was filled with dragons; and the Fiend Folio, which not only had demons and devils, but a harpy and a nymph, accompanied by a drawing of a naked woman! with boobs!!

Simon’s parents were divorced, and he lived with his mom in a huge house in La Canada. His room was filled with evidence of a custody Cold War. Too many toys to count littered the floor and spilled out of the closet, but even though we were surrounded by Atari and Intellivision, GI Joe and Transformers, we had D&D fever, and the only prescription was more polyhedral dice.

Of all the things I do that make me a geek, nothing brings me as much joy as gaming. It all started with the D&D Basic Set, and today it takes an entire room in my house to contain all of my books, boxes, and dice.

Thank you for giving us endless worlds to explore, Gary Gygax. Rest in peace.

Comments

[Matt]

You see, these are the posts that I can most identify with. I lived in Phoenix at the same time and you paint out of the same paintbox I use for my memories. Wheaton you are a brother.

[Proto]

Failed my save vs stun also. Thanks for the system Gary! d20's still thunder, percentile's charted.

[Pockafwye]

My cousin, who was older and lived far away, introduced me to D&D on one of his visits. I had no one to play with for ages as being a bookish misfit and a girl was a double strike against me. But I read the manual I had from cover to cover on my own. I eventually found some friends to play with. Boys who judged me by my ability to play D&D and handle the gaming group's python mascot, rather than my inability to throw a ball well.

I eventually moved on to RPG video games as my primary source of gaming entertainment.

Now, so many years later, I'm a gamer, married to a gamer.

Thanks Gary Gygax. May you rest in peace.

[Chompa]

This hit me hard. Harder than I'd have thought. I've been a gamer for 20+ years and it's been a big part of my life.

My closest friends have always been other gamers. I worked in and managed a game store during and after college. I'm still friends with gamers from that time.

On arriving to Fort Wayne 11 years ago, I didn't know anyone except the woman who is now my wife. I found some guys to game with and that has been the foundation for most of my friendships here.

I've got a full life and have done lots of things and gaming is just a small part of it anymore, but I know it led me into some of the best friendships and best times I've had.

And we wouldn't have had D&D or any other RPG without Mr. Gygax. He was at a con in Fort Wayne several years ago and ran a game of D&D. I wasn't able to get in the game, but I really wish I had.

Gygax's legacy is a lot more than being the guy who invented D&D. This is a guy who created a whole subculture of geeks.

I'm going to tip one in his honor tonight and look thru my copy of "The Keep On The Borderlands". RIP Gary.

[Khyron]

In some ways, I was less lucky than you - I didn't discover D&D until my Sophmore year of high school. I wasn't even reading fantasy or sci-fi before my Freshman year, but was very lucky to find friends in high school who played. It's been a part of my life ever since, and one of those friends (the first and best one, honestly) is still someone I go visit every chance I get, even though he's half a country away and his cigarette smoke usually gives me a killer migraine if we game together all night. He still DM's a weekly session at one of the local game parlors back in the sleepy military base town where we met.

That friend, with Mr. Gygax's help, is a big part of who I am today.

[Giladani]

For me, it must've been 1981 or 82 and I was 8 (or 9). At a family gathering in Vail, CO, an older cousin of mine had the Monster Manual (sky blue cover, pictures of trolls?). I was enthralled and begged for my mom to buy it for me. It was fun to try to deduce the system from the monster descriptions. Later I got numerous box sets, books, and subscribed to Dragon magazine for a really long time. Friends and I carried out campaigns, late nights, all the usual. For me, it represents that amazing evening you had when you were 14 with friends were you ordered pizzas and played RPGs and Wargames on the dining room table until 2 in the morning. Yes, "the happiest days of our lives" indeed.

[Samurai Avon Lady]

I came late to the RPG party - somehow not starting until I was in college! There were plenty of boys in my neighborhood who played D&D when I was a kid, but I always assumed that no one would want ME to join in.

But once I did start playing games, I really wished I had had the guts to ask someone if I could have joined, way back when.

I learned about today's sad news at work, this afternoon. Coincidentally enough, I had just been playing with the giant plush d20 I keep at my desk.

I must have looking rather dumbstruck, as my coworker came over and asked me if I was OK...

Happy trails, Mr. Gygax! Thanks for helping to free my imagination from its dungeon!

[ennKay]

safe travels in the outer planes, GG.

i'll drink to you tonight in the undercity, and think back to those years - hunting for treasure and glory in the keep on the borderlands, keeping the healing dice primed and ready. thank you, sir. for all of it.

[orclgrl]

This news brings tears to the eye of a 'personal stranger' who nevertheless feels a remote friendship. Mr. Gygax's death is a great loss.

Reading most of your posts makes me feel like an 'old' gamer as I didn't discover the joys of RPGs until I was in my early 30's and introduced to D&D by my nephews who came to stay the weekend with their cousins. After about an hour of listening to the 'kids' (12-16 years) this old lady asked if she could roll up her own character and join. Talk about some freaked out kids!

That first game was great and had me hooked. I went on to play and host many a D&D weekend at our house for anywhere from 2 to8 players. My husband would chase us all off to bed around 6am and breakfast 'at Aunty's Inn'

The games and all night weekends at Aunt Shanon's house still remain topics of conversation and fond memories when the 'kids' all have the rare chance to get together now 15 years later!

So long Gary! Campaign Complete.

[Suzanne Lanoue]

Really awesome tribute, Wil!
I have three older brothers who got me into it, and two of them still play. So does my s-i-l Susan, whom you met on one of the Trek cruises to Alaska I believe. I think you played Magic with her and her husband John.

XOXOXOXOX

Suzanne Lanoue
The TV MegaSite
http://tvmegasite.net

[John Welch]

Yeah...you nailed it Wil.

My version: http://www.bynkii.com/archives/2008/03/goodbye_gary.html

[davidlian]

Wil, you hit it on the nail. I saw this on boing boing this morning (well...it's morning over here in Malaysia) and was smitten. Mr. Gygax will be mourned.

Those folks at Blizzard owe their millions to him.

[meredith]

When I heard the news, the first thing I thought was, "I wonder how Wil Wheaton will blog about this."

I haven't gamed in years, but I still have my dice. And to this day, the Friday-afternoon D&D group my friends and I had in 7th and 8th grade remains the best-organized, well-run activity I've ever been involved with.

RIP, Mr. Gygax. And thank you.

[idiosynchronic]

Wil - that was a fantastic teaser and utterly appropriate - thank you for sharing.

One comment, which I hope you're willing to reply to. "Simon’s parents were divorced, and he lived with his mom in a huge house in La Canada. His room was filled with evidence of a custody Cold War. Too many toys to count littered the floor and spilled out of the closet, but even though we were surrounded by Atari and Intellivision, GI Joe and Transformers . . "

Being as we're both step-parents, witnesses to custody cold wars, but from homes where out parents remain married (and silly enough, still love each other) - how do you feel about this statement when you examine it separately?

I used to think that I and my son's extended family over-indulged the child with toys in compensation or competition. But now that I have a daughter with my wife, that observation appears to be completely erroneous. Both my kids, may they know their blessings some day, are almost drowning in toys and other amusements.

[bleu]

That was a lovely tribute. I never met Gary in person, but my dad worked for TSR so he was a household name. It makes me so sad to see my father's colleagues, the characters in the stories of my youth, fading away.

[Byron]

I weep.

Gygax is gone. My companion, when no one... well, everyone here knows what I would say.

But I cannot find my 2nd Edition DM guide with the totally awesome single player role your own dungeon rules in the back of the book. And I weep all the more.

[Wayne Zachary]

Thank you Mr. Gygax for your important contribution to our world. If not for imaginative persons like your self , many of todays RPGs including the one I am a participant in (freeform Star Trek RP on myspace) may not have even happened. You will be missed.
Awesome tribute Wil! Drops Dark Side of the Moon hat in memoriam.

[drakensykh]

Oh noes. Saw the news on Wall Street Journal online, and knew that Wil's blog would be The Place to Air It All Out. Indeed. His imaginings inspired so many great stories we created together.

Myself, my rogue PCs Roaen, Denali, Garwan, and Tholos Lunk, and my crafty NPC Marron Stex now hold a long moment of silence in E.G.G.'s memory.

[smg]

"With a dodgeball to the face, Fate put me on the bench next to the kid who, over the next few months, helped me take my first tentative steps down the path to geekdom."

That gave me chills, Wil. Thanks to people like Gary Gygax, and you, and countless others, we're loud and we're proud. Rest in peace, Gary.

[earlpants]

Never played D&D, but the clarity of your excerpt finally drove me to comment.

I absolutely hate your politics, but you are an excellent, emotive, and detailed writer.

Your recall of childhood, which most of us either discarded or repressed, is very impressive and makes for wonderful storytelling.

I always look forward to reading your blog and have enjoyed your books. I also congratulate you on having success with the sinus surgery that I sought but was told would be almost assuredly unsuccessful.

Continued success!

[Wouter Lievens]

Great story there, Wil. As soon as I finish my current stack of books-to-read, I'll definitely read one of yours.

[Wick]

My experience was different, and the same. You nailed it Wil. I have to admit I'm crying, Gary's influence on my life was/is monumental. Thank you so much for the best and most appropriate eulogy he could hope for.

Fail saving roll.
Lament.

[Robbo B]

From 'i can has cheez burger'.

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2008/03/04/dnd-kitteh-morns-loss-of-gary-gygax/

A very sad day.

[Micky]

That's just too sad.
I never got to play when I was younger, but do as an adult.
My first time was with a group of 5. We played once a week, up into the wee hours.
I still have the posterboards with all of our drawings. All the x's of creatures killed, all the places we had to go through.
This one game last well over a year. It was awesome.
I kept a journal of all our adventures with details about our loot, kills, etc.
The movie Dungeons & Dragons came out while we were playing. I was seeing our characters in real life. I knew what all the cool magikal stuff was.
Playing D & D is one of the best times of my life.

[zizban]

I first starting playing D&D in 1982, when I was 13. I have been semi retired from it since 2000.

In 1985 I went to my first Gen Con and went to a talk by Gary Gygax. I took a back hall to get there and lo behold in that same back hall was Gary Gygax, walking along side a man who turned to be Famous Amos himself.

In that hall was just me and a couple of buddies, along with Gygax and Famous Amos. I was severely fan boy stricken by the sight of The Man but he was very nice and pleasant, and radiated a fatherly warmth. We talked as we walked but I don't remember what he talked about. I do remember just before the stage door to the conference hall he turned to me and handed me an open package of cookies and said, "Here, try my friend's cookies." and he said goodbye.

A good soul has passed on and the world is a little poorer from for his absence. Gary Gygax was amazing writer and creative mind, the father of D&D and roleplaying games.

His First Edition Dungeon Master's guide stands as a classic roleplaying reference, an epic work of game genius.

Good bye, Gary Gygax.