Real Problems

I play a game called Dungeons & Dragons in which players assume the roles of heroic wizards and warriors, usually with the goal of ridding an imaginary world of some evil – the raging orc horde descending on the town, the necromancer scheming to raise an army of undead, or the hungry hill giants whose favorite delicacy is villagers. I’m most often the one who dreams up the imaginary world and the evils threatening it. I stopped playing for many years, but got back into it recently, especially during lock-down when my old friends and I started playing once a week like a bunch of teenagers. We’re still playing that often. It’s been great.

However, I’ve found that even this game overlaps with my other creative interests, interests that have evolved since I first discovered D&D as a kid. Being a game without winners or losers – the players all work together, and I, the Game Master, only orchestrate and adjudicate the encounters with allies and foes – I often find myself thinking about motivation. In theory, the players are portraying heroes motivated to save the world as any hero would be. What better motivation does a brave soul need?

Except the players aren’t those heroes. They’re a bunch of people who’ve gathered together to play a game. So, when the villagers in this imagined narrative game say, “We have a problem. The dead in the graveyard have risen and they want to eat our brains! Will you save us?” the wizards and warriors might have to steel themselves for the coming challenge, might worry for their safety, might even wish they could just go to a tavern and drink a beer. But the players, hopefully, all think, “Great! That’s why we’re here.”

For the players, the only real problem would be an imaginary world without monsters. Then there would be no game. I’m not saying we invent all our problems to keep our life interesting, but I do find myself wondering if we invent most of them. It can’t be that we just want to have fun. No, we have to save our world in some way, save it from the villains of poverty or failure or obscurity, slay those dragons as evidence our time was well spent – as if this game, the one we keep playing and playing, might actually have end.

If you like the ideas and perspectives expressed here, feel free to contact me about individual coaching and group workshops.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com