Everything I Need to Know I Learned from Dungeons & Dragons

by Shelly Mazzanoble

Pelor rocks. This is definitely a god I can get behind. It’s all about being nice to people and telling meanies to suck it. Today was to be all about sunshine and laughter, which sort of contradicted the vile and hostile mood I woke up in. Love and light. That’s my stupid motto. If I had more time I’d make up little posters with pictures of baby animals on them. Sunshine is the kitty. Laughter is the fuzzy baby chick. They walk side by side through a forest. I gag a little at the thought. Baby steps …

  Oh, sure, I had a lot planned for this day. I fancied myself a bit like Underdog, transforming from a seemingly spiritual inane skeptic into a patron saint of the underprivileged. And when I was done pulling bullies off of scrawny classmates and helping the elderly across streets, I’d throw a massive outdoor block party where the mead and puff pastry pizzas flow like the good intentions that run through my veins.

  “No, we cannot have a party,” Laura answered when I told her my awesome plan. “Besides, it’s horrible outside. No one wants to celebrate love and light when there are flash flood warnings.”

  “Party pooper,” I said. “Or rather, Pelor Pooper. Remind me to bring some light to your dark little corner of the world.”

  She laughed. “When is this experiment over? I sort of miss your cynicism and somewhat questionable ways.”

  “Passing gas in a sweaty yoga studio is pretty questionable,” Chris said, not looking up from his spreadsheet.

  “Allegedly!” I shouted. I’ve told that story to so many people I’m starting to believe Becky’s big, fat, flatulent lie.

  My first instinct was to throw a stack of Post-it Notes at Chris. And then rid my desk of the rest of its contents in that armsweeping, overdramatized gesture soap opera characters do. Granted, they usually do this when they’re about to conduct some hanky-panky on said desk, but still. I bet it would feel good. (The arm sweeping gesture, people. Out of the gutter, please.) I guess Becky and the yoga class still had me all riled up, which is a Major Yoga Fail, if you ask me.

  But I took a moment to get centered and managed not to throw anything at Chris other than a sideways glance.

  “You’re funny,” he said. “I know you want to hit me right now.”

  “Aw, come on,” Laura said, “don’t get mad and blow a gasket. Emphasis on the gas.”

  Okay, okay, that was pretty funny, but by the power of Pelor, I won’t crack my façade with a smile. I just want to be angry and sullen today! Can’t a girl get a little down-in-the-dumps time around here? Then I remembered (again) today was supposed to be a day of love and laughter, so technically Pelor would want me to make someone feel good by laughing at their joke. Even if it was at my expense. Oh, Pelor …

  So I laughed and then Chris and Laura did and the next thing I know we’re caught in that nexus of contagious laughter where you kind of forgot what set you off and are now just laughing at how hard each other is laughing. We laughed so hard my ribs hurt and we all had tears coursing down our cheeks. Our department assistant came over to make sure we were okay. We told her the story and sure enough, she was indoctrinated in our little comedy club.

  “I’m going to pee my pants!” she said. “Stop!”

  “Well, feel free to blame me for that, too,” I said.

  I mean, who cares, right? I’ll probably never see Becky again, but just in case, I’ll be sure to carry a whoopee cushion in my purse at all times.

  But maybe I should give her some credit. If not for her flatulent lies I never would have almost gotten mad at Chris, then remembered my pledge to Pelor, and discovered that laughing in the face of adversity is actually more fun than sulking about it. That realization buoyed me all day. I had a spring in my step and dare I say a “sunny” disposition? Nah, too cheesy. But I was definitely in a good mood.

  So much so that when someone heated up a disgusting piece of fish in the microwave, causing not just the entire fourth floor to reek like Pike Place Market on a hot August afternoon but my green beans to taste like cheap tuna, I didn’t storm back to my desk to compose a company-wide e-mail demanding a ban on cooking smelly office foods. (Not this time, anyway. They probably still have my letters from the first two times.) I barely flinched when another co-worker came over telling me the project I had allocated time for next week was actually due this week. As in by the end of the day, which was in approximately twelve minutes.

  “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” she said. “I just found out myself.”

  Impossible, I thought. She pretty much makes the schedules for these things. Obviously she forgot and now I had to rush to get this taken care of, forsaking a zillion other things on a deadline (not to mention my workout!). But she really did look sorry and I can’t forget the time she baked me homemade banana bread (with Splenda!) for my birthday and helped me lug 3,000 posters to my car and load them into my trunk—when she was pregnant!

  “It’s fine,” I told her, much to the surprise of Chris and the delight of HR, who were probably already heading over here. “We’ve all been a tad overworked lately. Besides, I should know by now around when these things are due.”

  She half smiled, as if she were afraid showing any more gratitude would turn my passivity into belligerence and I really would blow the gasket Laura had predicted earlier.

  “Now shoo so I can get to work,” I said.

  “Weird,” Laura noted. “This whole experiment has made you weird.”

  I was still in a good mood when I got home and found a typed note under my door insisting that I do everyone a favor and carpet my floors rather than clomp around like a pack of rhinos.

  I looked at Zelda, my fat, lazy cat who was in the same spot on the sofa where I left her that morning.

  “What do you do here all day?” I asked her, crumbling the note and tossing it in recycling. Yeah, my neighbor can suck it. If he did hear anything, it happened between 8:00 a.m. and 6:00 p.m., which are perfectly acceptable times of day to hear your neighbors. The Shelly of Yester-week would take that note downstairs and shove it down the complainer’s piehole. You’re talking about my cat, asshat, as she’s the only one home during the day.

  But instead I imagined why he might be home all day with nothing else to do but carp about feline footfalls. Perhaps he recently lost his job and keeps his office skills sharp by typing passive-aggressive notes to his neighbors. Maybe he was home sick with a migraine or worse—brain cancer—and all sounds were amplified. If that’s the case I hate to think what kind of note he left our neighbor with the pewter dolphin wind chimes. Or hey! Maybe he’s a carpet salesman and is really asking me to do everyone a favor and buy some rugs from him. Regardless, I decided to blow off his clearly instigative little bitch-o-gram (made all the more bitchy because it was typed and unsigned; hmm, complaining about the noises above? I have no idea who this could be from).

  It really is easier to make the decision to be happy. I feel more free and lighter than I have in … well … days. I guess there’s truth in that old saying “laugh and the world laughs with you”—or least a few co-workers and possibly your cat.

  “It’s all good,” I told Zelda, petting her head. “Sunshine and laughter.”

  She tried to bite me.

  “You have a lot to learn about Pelor,” I said.

  I was in such a good mood I decided to finally tackle her litter box. I was about one clump away from her expressing her displeasure with the housekeeping services on the area rug.

  “Sunshine and laughter, love and light,” I chanted on the balcony, feeling the goodness of Pelor fill my innards and I dumped Zelda’s old litter into a plastic bag. I just might take this experiment into the weekend. Maybe another week. Who knows? Maybe I’ll never stop. And then I noticed my downstairs neighbor’s car is parked right below. Wouldn’t it be awful if I didn’t tie this plastic bag tight enough and left it on the balcony overnight? Especially terrible considering the forecast said it was going to get real breezy overnight.

  I know, I know, not the most pious move but I’m pretty sure
even Pelor would think my neighbor is a prick. And I continued to bask in his sunshine and laughter as I clomped around my living room.

  I always knew religion factored into D&D to some extent, but personally I never explored it, and like the anti-Judy, allowed my ignorance to prevent my characters from subscribing to any one faith. While it’s not required that your D&D character subscribes to any particular religion or god, spirituality does exist. Like any aspect of the game, it’s what you make of it. It can actually be a fundamental part of D&D, which is ironic considering all the allegations lobbed at D&D players who were thought to have allegiances to the man down under.

  Let’s talk about those for a minute. I’ve been playing for more than half a decad e (and I think we’ve established I’m pretty easily swayed by rose quartz, psychics, a strappy pair of wedges, etc.), and so far I haven’t felt compelled to so much as squash a spider. Even the spider that decided to summer on my toothbrush. He, and the toothbrush, were gently placed outside on the balcony. (Coincidentally, so was Zelda, my cat. What she may or may not have done to the spider is between her and whatever god she reports to.)

  I don’t believe a game or a song or a passage in a book can “make” someone commit horrific acts of evil. I understand the need to look for scapegoats when something horrific happens. And of course the media loves a good “the rogue made me do it” tale, but let’s be honest: If someone is capable of committing the acts in question, he or she was probably heading down that path long before he or she picked up a twenty-sided die. D&D, like music and books, is an escape. It can provide people with a sense of solace. Control in an otherwise out of control existence. But nothing is a guaranteed cure-all. It’s just sad when something that likely provided an individual with perhaps the one sense of peace in his or her life gets blamed for making it all fall apart. And yes, I’m totally typing this from a soapbox.

  Choosing your alignment isn’t easy. Just in case you don’t have time to try various gods and goddesses on for size (and fear ending up with weird macaroni art in the process), take a short cut to enlightenment with this simple quiz.

  Vacation! You have one week to go anywhere you want. Where to?

  A. Time to pack the hammer and tool belt! I’m building a habitat for humanity!

  B. Anywhere! I’ll decide on the way to the airport!

  C. Burning Man, baby!

  D. Somewhere quiet and chill. These books aren’t going to read themselves.

  E. On a seven-day bike tour through the Vosges Mountains! Pedal all day, sample Gewürztraminers all night.

  You feel most comfortable in:

  A. A cloud of patchouli and Birkenstocks (but only if I have to wear shoes).

  B. Something trendy. I pride myself in being fashion forward.

  C. Heavy cotton shirts, Dickies, steel-toe boots, and gloves. Protection is paramount.

  D. A library.

  E. Gym clothes. Never know when the urge to do a few hundred pushups will strike.

  When your dice are rolling poorly, you:

  A. Close your eyes and pray for some divine intervention. You’ll give up cheese and chocolate and basic cable for something with double digits!

  B. Laugh. It’s the nature of the game! And then pull out one of the thirty-seven d20s you carry around for backup.

  C. Destroy them!

  D. Go easy on the dice. According to your latest algorithm you should be back on track in about seventeen dice rolls.

  E. Jog in place. Maybe do a few jumping jacks. Anything to upset the negative feng shui that’s clearly clogging up your play space.

  Stop, thief! You’re already running late to meet up with friends and see a thug take off with an elderly lady’s purse. You:

  A. Call the police and then offer the nice lady all the cash you have in your pockets in case the police can’t find her bag.

  B. Wait for the police to arrive so you can ask if they’ll take you on a ride-along sometime.

  C. Get really, really pissed. Who the hell picks on an old lady? You walk her home and offer to stand guard outside for the next forty-eight hours just in case the thief checks her license and wants to make a repeat performance.

  D. Spend the next fifty-two Saturdays touring senior living centers to offer free self-defense training classes.

  E. Take off after the thug figuring you’ll have him pinned to the sidewalk in about a block and a half.

  A genie offers to grant you one wish. What do you wish for?

  A. Nice weather for your barbeque on Saturday.

  B. Dealer’s choice! Let the genie decide!

  C. Rough up the genie. Everyone knows you get three wishes!

  D. Money to pay off your student loans.

  E. Tickets to the UFC championship. And maybe some new sneakers.

  Unfortunately, you’re stranded on a desert island that is quickly sinking into the ocean. Fortunately, you have a helicopter! Unfortunately, your helicopter can only fit five people and there are sixteen are on the island. How do you choose who to save?

  A. I can’t choose. Instead I will fly my helicopter as fast as I can to safety, unload my passengers, and come back for the others! If my mission fails, at least I’ll know I tried.

  B. Have them flip a coin. Heads they come on board, tails they … well … don’t.

  C. Women and children first! After that, may only the strongest survive.

  D. Decide which five people can offer the most to society. You’re basically doing humankind a favor, right?

  E. Have them fight it out. Survival of the fittest.

  Mostly A’s:

  Bust out the sunscreen and the Kashi whole-wheat biscuits! You’ll need shielding and sustenance as you bow down to the temple of sunny and selfless Pelor. And no, there’s no tax write-off for taking inane quizzes with absolutely no scientific merit behind them. Now go let the sunshine in, you do-gooding hippy.

  Mostly B’s:

  Have you ever actually seen a Cheshire cat smile? No, because that would be creepy. However it’s not creepy to have a little Lady Luck smiling down on you like the god of your choosing, Avandra. I know, I know, you probably changed your answers a million times, and believe me, Avandra approves. Now really test your luck and buy a lottery ticket and try to get front row parking at Trader Joe’s.

  Mostly C’s:

  You’re a maniac, maniac, on the floor.… Oh, sorry. Every time I think of your god, Moradin, I think of that montage scene from Flashdance where Jennifer Beals dances her leg warmers off in an old converted warehouse. Why, you ask? Because she worked as a welder by day. Moradin would totally approve. In addition to being a maniac, you’re also probably darn pleased with the results of this quiz. And if for some reason you aren’t, who would know? You’ll bite your lip, put on a brave face, and craft a set of bunk beds out a few hundred discarded hubcaps until you feel better

  Mostly D’s:

  Hey, there. Sorry to interrupt while you’re out there curing diseases, launching rockets into space, and rereading War and Peace while waiting for the clerk to finish bagging your groceries. I just wanted to give you the results of that quiz you took. Boy, you must love quizzes, huh? So does your deity, Ioun. Anything that engages your brain and provides a little insight into the inner workings of that giant brain of yours just makes you warm and tingly. That’s all. Carry on with your little hobbies now.

  Mostly E’s:

  Two, four, six, eight, who do you contemplate? Kord, Kord, Kord! That is when you’re not painting your face in your team’s colors or training for your next Iron-whatever competition. So wave that foam finger up in the air and eschew those weaklings you leave in your wake! And I really hope you’re happy with these results because I don’t want you to take your aggro frustration out on me. (Even though Kord might want you to.)

  me: I’m not planning on outing anyone’s lewd behavior, but I do plan on giving out ringing endorsements. At least for Jodi.

  judy: Jodi is single? Oh, good! I have a great book for her!r />
  me: No! Leave her alone. She’s my project!

  judy: Why is she single, anyway? She’s so sweet and nice, I can’t believe she’d even need your help in that department.

  me: Well, she didn’t exactly ask for it. I’m just kind of doing it. My matchmaking services are like those obnoxious, out-of-the blue offers from Dish Network. Anyone with a TV is eligible.

  judy: Just be careful. Some people might not take well to you butting in and taking over.

  me: Oh, that’s rich! Are you the pot or the kettle?

  judy: Very funny. What’s Jodi’s e-mail address? Really. If she Acts Like a Lady But Thinks Like a Man …

  me: I said no! I have it under control. Besides, Jodi is too nice to tell you where you can stick your advice books.

  judy: No offense, but you’re not exactly an expert on relationships. How long did it take for you and Bart to finally realize you were more than best friends?

  me: Six years. And I think even your pal Oprah would agree that some of the best relationships start with that foundation.

  judy: Humpf. My grandkids could be going to kindergarten now if you were a bit more perceptive.

  me: Or you and I could be bitter enemies because your incessant procreation badgering put me over the edge. Finally.

  judy: I doubt it. I’ve been badgering you for years. You won’t budge. Tell Jodi to try online dating. I just saw the commercial that says one out of five couples meet online. And I know just the book to help her write a profile. They were just talking about it on TV. Oh, what show was that—

  me: I’m not putting her online.

  judy: There are apparently key words that men subconsciously gravitate to and ones that instantly repel them.

  me: If only there were words that would instantly repel mothers. But don’t worry. It’s covered.

  judy: Why? Are you giving her that bottle of human sex pheromones I ordered for you from the Philippines?