Post by Dante on Apr 15, 2011 16:13:59 GMT -8
This is part one of an Essay about gaming that came through the DrivethruRPG newsletter that I read today. reminds me of trying to explain roleplaying to my parents.
Gaming: the Magic Avatar (Part I)
My dear friend Phil Brucato, creator and/or contributor of such priceless RPG gems as World of Darkness: Changing Breeds; Mage: the Ascension; the Best Little Hellhouse in Texas; and Vampire: the Dark Ages, has crafted a really interesting 3-part essay about gaming that delves into the realms of spirituality and magic. He's kind of a "shaman with dice," if you will, and I am pleased to share his really cool thoughts with you here.
Gaming: The Magic Avatar
(Part 1 of 3)
(The following series of articles first appeared in newWitch magazine, under my column Chalice & Keyboard. Given some of the recent discussions we've been sharing with our friends in Greece, I wanted to share the essays again.)
t began with little soldiers and bright books in a shopping mall. I was 14 and hated life. Smart, reclusive and what would later be called dyslexic, I was living with my dad in Springfield, VA. My family had just split, and I spent my after-school days wandering around town or holed up in a tiny room painting models and listening to classic rock. (1) I had few friends, and they all lived near Mom. At the cusp of adolescence, I had no idea who I was, only that I was miserable.
And then, while looking for new model kits, I found tiny lead figures of orcs and knights. Living skeletons and lumpy trolls. Bare-breasted Amazons and Gandolfian wizards. It was 1979, and I had just discovered gaming.
In the late 1970s, the hobby of roleplaying games, or RPGs, was new. Evolving among wargame fans and medieval re-enactors, it had recently gone retail. I first saw those talismans and grimoiries of imagination in a hobby shop. Kay-Bee Toys had gotten into the act as well, and the gaudy Players Handbook and Monster Manual beckoned to me from a hidden corner of that store. Lacking funds to buy them, I stood out of sight until my legs cramped, reading arcane charts and descriptions of a hidden world. When Christmas came, I asked for books and figures. I got my wish, and my friend Chris and I became the first kids we knew who played Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.
These days, RPGs are everywhere. Gaming has become a cultural force. As Erik Davis declares in his book Techgnosis, RPGs have helped to shape the systems and terminology of the Information Age. (2). No one saw this coming, though, in 1979. All I knew is that this stuff spoke to me. And I was not alone.
First came the craze. Then came the backlash. By 1980, you could find D&D in department stores or see it praised in Psychology Today; by that same year, though, “experts” claimed that RPGs were satanic in both origin and practice. (3) I didn’t know about the controversy yet, however ― I just wanted to play. In high school, I met other creative “misfit toys” who shared my fondness for gaming (4) . With occult doodles in our notebooks and weird messages scrawled on chalkboards, we formed a geek elite. Years later, we’d have been considered Goths or candidates for Columbinism; at the time, we just knew we’d found something magical.
I don’t mean “magical” literally. We never summoned demons or invoked dark arts. A panic, though, was rising; in 1982, a kid named Irving “Bink” Pulling (5) committed suicide. His mom Patricia blamed D&D. Unsuccessful in court, she soon formed B.A.D.D. (“Bothered About Dungeons & Dragons”) and built a media career as an “expert” during the satanic ritual panic of the 1980s. Books came out. Folks got sued. Suddenly, RPGs became subversive, evil, perhaps even deadly in the eyes of certain people. (6) Even now, that impression lingers. To this day, I hear “But that’s satanic!” whenever I mention roleplaying games. “Authorities” like William Schnoebelen still call RPGs “feeding program(s) for occultism and witchcraft… the materials themselves… contain(ing) authentic magical rituals.” (7) Pulling died of cancer in 1997, but her spectre remains.
To be honest, I find such misconceptions amusing. They haven’t prevented interactive fantasy from becoming THE entertainment medium of the 21st century. Yet when my editor asked me to do an article about RPGs and Paganism, I hesitated. As the Pagan game designer behind Mage: The Ascension, Deliria and The Sorcerers Crusade, aren’t I a living link between gaming and occult activity? While I have first-hand knowledge that RPG designers do NOT sacrifice Fido to the Dark Gods (8) , I likewise know that there are elements of real-world magic involved in RPGs. Isn’t that somewhat… sinister? Not really, unless you fear the avatar within. Because that magic is creativity, and gaming opened that door for me.
Like most kids, I was searching for identity. Although my father (a Tolkien fan) had introduced me to fantasy years earlier, the interactive element of gaming struck a chord. Suddenly, I could create and vicariously live myths, not just read about them. A few years later, I discovered an even deeper truth: the characters I created were inner avatars, aspects of my deeper Self. This seems elementary now, but I was 18 at the time and new to such ideas. Since then, though, I’ve seen roleplaying as more than simple entertainment. In some ways, it’s a mythic journey to my own potential. And that, to me, is far more “magical” than any list of spells.
The most absurd argument of the satanic panic insists that RPGs feature real-life rituals. Although certain fringe RPGs feature ceremonial elements (9) , anyone who opens a gaming tome sees charts, numbers and lawyerly minutiae. Magic is described as combat maneuvers with mathematical effects, not as arcane ceremonies featuring the neighbor’s cat. You could no more learn a “fireball spell” from the Players Handbook than you could build a car from reading the Kelly Blue Book ― though the latter would be much more possible! While certain RPGs are more authentically “magical” than others, that authenticity comes through theme, background and approach, not occult mastery. The magic in RPGs is creative, not literal. In that regard, however, it’s quite potent.
Perhaps that’s what really scares certain folks: not the illusion of high wizardry, but the embrace of the magic within. That element, I think, is what I found in 1979: a door to my imagination, and an invitation to the possibilities beyond…
[In the next installment I’ll explore RPG design and reveal why certain RPGs are more “magical” than others. So stick around, and keep your dragon handy!]
Phil “Satyrblade” Brucato has been a gamer for almost 30 years, a game designer for almost 20 years, and a Pagan more or less since birth. You can find him online at: satyrblade.livejournal.com/, myspace.com/satyrblade and www.philbrucato.com/.
Gaming: the Magic Avatar (Part I)
My dear friend Phil Brucato, creator and/or contributor of such priceless RPG gems as World of Darkness: Changing Breeds; Mage: the Ascension; the Best Little Hellhouse in Texas; and Vampire: the Dark Ages, has crafted a really interesting 3-part essay about gaming that delves into the realms of spirituality and magic. He's kind of a "shaman with dice," if you will, and I am pleased to share his really cool thoughts with you here.
Gaming: The Magic Avatar
(Part 1 of 3)
(The following series of articles first appeared in newWitch magazine, under my column Chalice & Keyboard. Given some of the recent discussions we've been sharing with our friends in Greece, I wanted to share the essays again.)
t began with little soldiers and bright books in a shopping mall. I was 14 and hated life. Smart, reclusive and what would later be called dyslexic, I was living with my dad in Springfield, VA. My family had just split, and I spent my after-school days wandering around town or holed up in a tiny room painting models and listening to classic rock. (1) I had few friends, and they all lived near Mom. At the cusp of adolescence, I had no idea who I was, only that I was miserable.
And then, while looking for new model kits, I found tiny lead figures of orcs and knights. Living skeletons and lumpy trolls. Bare-breasted Amazons and Gandolfian wizards. It was 1979, and I had just discovered gaming.
In the late 1970s, the hobby of roleplaying games, or RPGs, was new. Evolving among wargame fans and medieval re-enactors, it had recently gone retail. I first saw those talismans and grimoiries of imagination in a hobby shop. Kay-Bee Toys had gotten into the act as well, and the gaudy Players Handbook and Monster Manual beckoned to me from a hidden corner of that store. Lacking funds to buy them, I stood out of sight until my legs cramped, reading arcane charts and descriptions of a hidden world. When Christmas came, I asked for books and figures. I got my wish, and my friend Chris and I became the first kids we knew who played Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.
These days, RPGs are everywhere. Gaming has become a cultural force. As Erik Davis declares in his book Techgnosis, RPGs have helped to shape the systems and terminology of the Information Age. (2). No one saw this coming, though, in 1979. All I knew is that this stuff spoke to me. And I was not alone.
First came the craze. Then came the backlash. By 1980, you could find D&D in department stores or see it praised in Psychology Today; by that same year, though, “experts” claimed that RPGs were satanic in both origin and practice. (3) I didn’t know about the controversy yet, however ― I just wanted to play. In high school, I met other creative “misfit toys” who shared my fondness for gaming (4) . With occult doodles in our notebooks and weird messages scrawled on chalkboards, we formed a geek elite. Years later, we’d have been considered Goths or candidates for Columbinism; at the time, we just knew we’d found something magical.
I don’t mean “magical” literally. We never summoned demons or invoked dark arts. A panic, though, was rising; in 1982, a kid named Irving “Bink” Pulling (5) committed suicide. His mom Patricia blamed D&D. Unsuccessful in court, she soon formed B.A.D.D. (“Bothered About Dungeons & Dragons”) and built a media career as an “expert” during the satanic ritual panic of the 1980s. Books came out. Folks got sued. Suddenly, RPGs became subversive, evil, perhaps even deadly in the eyes of certain people. (6) Even now, that impression lingers. To this day, I hear “But that’s satanic!” whenever I mention roleplaying games. “Authorities” like William Schnoebelen still call RPGs “feeding program(s) for occultism and witchcraft… the materials themselves… contain(ing) authentic magical rituals.” (7) Pulling died of cancer in 1997, but her spectre remains.
To be honest, I find such misconceptions amusing. They haven’t prevented interactive fantasy from becoming THE entertainment medium of the 21st century. Yet when my editor asked me to do an article about RPGs and Paganism, I hesitated. As the Pagan game designer behind Mage: The Ascension, Deliria and The Sorcerers Crusade, aren’t I a living link between gaming and occult activity? While I have first-hand knowledge that RPG designers do NOT sacrifice Fido to the Dark Gods (8) , I likewise know that there are elements of real-world magic involved in RPGs. Isn’t that somewhat… sinister? Not really, unless you fear the avatar within. Because that magic is creativity, and gaming opened that door for me.
Like most kids, I was searching for identity. Although my father (a Tolkien fan) had introduced me to fantasy years earlier, the interactive element of gaming struck a chord. Suddenly, I could create and vicariously live myths, not just read about them. A few years later, I discovered an even deeper truth: the characters I created were inner avatars, aspects of my deeper Self. This seems elementary now, but I was 18 at the time and new to such ideas. Since then, though, I’ve seen roleplaying as more than simple entertainment. In some ways, it’s a mythic journey to my own potential. And that, to me, is far more “magical” than any list of spells.
The most absurd argument of the satanic panic insists that RPGs feature real-life rituals. Although certain fringe RPGs feature ceremonial elements (9) , anyone who opens a gaming tome sees charts, numbers and lawyerly minutiae. Magic is described as combat maneuvers with mathematical effects, not as arcane ceremonies featuring the neighbor’s cat. You could no more learn a “fireball spell” from the Players Handbook than you could build a car from reading the Kelly Blue Book ― though the latter would be much more possible! While certain RPGs are more authentically “magical” than others, that authenticity comes through theme, background and approach, not occult mastery. The magic in RPGs is creative, not literal. In that regard, however, it’s quite potent.
Perhaps that’s what really scares certain folks: not the illusion of high wizardry, but the embrace of the magic within. That element, I think, is what I found in 1979: a door to my imagination, and an invitation to the possibilities beyond…
[In the next installment I’ll explore RPG design and reveal why certain RPGs are more “magical” than others. So stick around, and keep your dragon handy!]
Phil “Satyrblade” Brucato has been a gamer for almost 30 years, a game designer for almost 20 years, and a Pagan more or less since birth. You can find him online at: satyrblade.livejournal.com/, myspace.com/satyrblade and www.philbrucato.com/.