I’ve grown weirdly fascinated with the YouTube channel of a young woman named Lily Hevesh — also known by the handle Hevesh5 — lately. I’m not the only one; she’s been building up notoriety as an expert domino tumbler. If you’ve heard of her at all, you’ve almost certainly seen her “Triple Spiral” video, which went viral last month. The video shows an amazing construction of 15,000 multicolored dominoes, which Hevesh built over 25 hours. It takes less than two and a half minutes for it to collapse.
I’m a tabletop RPG geek, but I actually don’t play D&D that much. In the jargon of the hobby, it’s too “crunchy” for me. That is, it’s heavy on over-detailed tables and game mechanics. D&D has a tendency to go into excruciating detail about combat. You can’t just attach the dragon with your sword. No, you have to determine initiative, distance from the dragon, figure out if your attack type is uses a skill or a feat, add or subtract seven different kinds of modifiers (depending on your character’s health, the distance between you and your opponent, the terrain, how much stuff you’re carrying or how heavy your armor is, etc.) and whether or not someone is eligible to make an “attack of opportunity.” In the wrong circumstances, D&D can make Fizzbin look like a friendly game of Hearts.
The result is that D&D campaigns are structured kind of like this: Your party travels thirty miles in under a minute, then spends the next three hours simulating a melee that would take about 90 seconds in real life.
I prefer rules-light games that are based on character development and interaction. My friend Maggs is currently running a game of Changeling: The Lost for me, and I’m always up for a solid campaign of Unknown Armies1 or the delightfully fucked-up Paranoia.
All of that being said, if Ali Osworth, the geekery editor at Autostraddle ever invited me to be in one of her D&D games, I would play it. If I had to, I would play one of the old-school magic users from early D&D, the ones that were banned from using bladed weapons, could only do one spell per day, and whose only offensive spell was a Magic Missile that could do 1D4 of damage. Because her rules for queering up her games sound like that much fun. A few examples:
- Rolling a nat-twenty while flirting means I just play a Crash Pad episode for thirty seconds.
- If a male player makes a misogynistic comment that has nothing to do with storyline or character development, he has to complete a lap around my living room while impersonating John Cleese in The Ministry of Silly Walks.
- New option on the Wild Magic table: upon rolling a 69, you transform into that Snapchat filter such that when you open your mouth, you puke illusory rainbows. Attacks against you have disadvantage for the next three rounds.
Frankly, I’d like to advocate for making rule 19 a part of the official rules. Maybe a mandatory rule.
I will admit to being put off a little bit by the title. Is there such a thing as a D&D campaign that’s too gay? If so, I can’t imagine it. The whole point of RPGs is to enable fabulously over-imaginative outcasts to indulge their fantasy lives, so if there’s anything that’s in the spirit of the games, queering it up is definitely it. Check out the rest of the article.
- For those of you who know the game, I am breathlessly awaiting the release of the third edition of UA next year. ↩
Stop Making Sense is one of my favorite albums and concert movies EVER. Listening to the album got me through more shitty data-entry gigs with my sanity intact than I can possibly count. “Life During Wartime” remains one of my go-to songs when I’m depressed. I’ve been known to sit at cafes in Berkeley, listening to that song over and over again. Along with URGH! A Music War, the concert film is one of the best artifacts of 1980s New Wave. The Talking Heads were New Wave at its peak, and Stop Making Sense is the Talking Heads at their peak, on their very last live tour.