Back in the Saddle
or
Here we go again
So, what have I been doing? A lot: I’ve gotten married, bought a house with my wife, weathered a layoff right after 9/11, and endured a bunch of crappy jobs. Finally found a job where I could put my psychology degree to work. Had my wife give birth to a beautiful baby boy on April 20th 2008. So what else do I have to say? Since the beginning of these articles… lets call them what they really were: scathing rants; a purging catharsis of frustration and gaming angst. So what has been learned from all them? Well a few of things. Number 1: munchkins are bad, number 2: gaming groups change, and either evolve, or die out when they don’t, number 3: there is something worse that a munchkin. You can call that kind of person a Backstabber.
I didn’t think I’d find something worse than a munchkin, and their creative number work. Their plethora of useless flaws taken in an attempt to create the uber-munch; be they Magical Ziggurats, or Walking Battleships of soulless destruction. But, I managed to. We had a guy join up with our crew some time ago, and he seemed to be one of the coolest players I had ever run across. Lots of sass and flash; the incredible ability to make everyone laugh, and one of the coolest character concepts I had come across. But, there were signs in the beginning that I should have caught. The attempts to have me remove a couple of players, the constant talking behind people’s back, and that sort of thing. Unfortunately I didn’t, much to my own shame. I should have, but I too was entranced by the flashy role-playing and the laugh-fest. It wasn’t long before I bought into it. I did get rid of one of the players, and we kept going. It wasn’t until much later, when he was finished badmouthing people, as well as doing the same in another group, and, to top it all off, quitting when his work was done. When I finally came to my senses, and realized what I had done, I could only sit back and take stock of what had happened, doing my best to fix things. Which, at the time, I didn’t know if I could even do; but, I still had to try. Unfortunately, like the old fairy tale of Humpty Dumpty, “All the Kings horses and all the Kings men could not put Humpty Dumpty back together again.” The damage had been done, and I couldn’t fix it. As a result, some of the players went their own way.
It’s sad, but it really took a bad situation to open my eyes to the reality of the hobby that we share. While being a munch needs to be avoided, there are worse things. This leads me into another story. Back on 2000 or 2001 –I can’t recall the exact date, but it was still at the time when Mr. Backstabber was around— I decided to take a swan dive. It was amazing, my form flawless, my technique masterful; everything was perfect, except for the fact that asphalt isn’t water. So it was ‘whammo!’, and I almost broke my right arm in the process. The way I fell put every bit of force into the palm of my right hand, straight up the arm, all the way to the shoulder. I lost the use of it for about 3 months, give or take a couple of weeks (I can’t really remember the exact amount of time). Of course, we have a game coming up during that time, when my arm is next to useless and hurting like the devil. Everybody comes in and asks how I’m doing, except for Mr. Backstabber. After that comes a player who –how to put this in a good light— is a munchkin, and further, in need of Ritalin. But, that only has a minor part to play, and isn’t the point here. Mr. Backstabber is sitting there with the rest, making himself the center of attention. My munchkin player sits down next to me, puts this little glass jar on the table, and grabs my arm. While I’m trying to figure out what’s going on, he takes a small dab of stuff out of the jar and rubs the salve into my wrist (which was hurting the most). Up to that point I had tried everything to lessen the pain: heat rubs, Ibuprofen, cold rubs… you name it, nothing worked. The fellow, who had always been a well meaning guy, was a munchkin. I can’t deny it; he had annoyed me too many times to count. He had found out (from my mother) that I had hurt myself, and gone out before the game to buy this stuff called Tiger’s Balm that you can get it at a health food store. It didn’t cost more the a few dollars. But, he had heard I was hurt, took it upon himself to try and help out, and did. The balm took a lot of the pain away. Mr. Backstabber couldn’t have cared less, and I learned something that night. While a munch can be a real pain in the butt, if the munch is actually a friend, you’re better off with him than Mr. Backstabber. So given that, I’d rather have the munchkin who’s a friend than the backstabber who’s not.
And you know, with this being a good while after these troubles, I think its time to drop a note to some the people who had to go their own way (including my munchkin player). Maybe invite them to a game, and blow off a round of fireworks from my stash. After all, time has a way bringing new chances.
Thus endeth the lesson.
This lesson was edited for grammar and flow by my pal Lady Korishinzo since I really never mastered either. 