Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) is in its fourth edition (but fifth incarnation) since 1974. I’ve played three incarnations: 2nd, 3.5, and 4th. I’ve got to say that the fourth edition does one thing very well.

For anyone unfamiliar, a table top role-playing game (RPG), like D&D, uses a pen, character sheet(s), a series of books, and a set of dice. The set of dice consists of: 1 four-sided, 1 six-sided, 2 ten-sided, 1 twelve-sided, and 1 twenty-sided die. Dice are also abbreviated “D” as in D20 for a twenty-sided die. You might laugh at this now, but one day you’ll be in a comic shop on the wrong side of the tracks and knowing what a D20 is might help you make a saving throw against a band of asthmatic angry nerds.

D&D, and similar RGPs, are played with one person running the world and a group of players going through the world. The concept is that the players will have their characters act according to their personalities and shared experiences. For example, a brooding solitary dwarf will warm up and make friends with the plucky tiefling after they save each other’s lives from a nest of giant spiders. Or as is more common with my current D&D 4th edition group, they will buy each other prostitutes once they return to town.

RPGs are as much a part of comic culture as comics themselves because they share space in the same shops. While there are purists, comic readers who hate RPG-ers and vice versa, for the most part anyone into one has at least tried the other. In fact I became interested in comics because I was into Star Wars RPG as a teenager.

The 4th edition D&D is a great miniatures game. The publisher, Wizards of the Coast, has taken a lot of the ambiguity out of the game by instituting a standard series of measurements. This sound logical, but is a huge shift away from 3.5 D&D where things were vague and left to the discretion of the dungeon master, or DM. (A DM is responsible for making the world around the players.) In 3.5, a player would need to ask the DM if he or she could do something; now the player simply counts squares.

While many old school D&D players and DMs are unhappy with the shift, I happen to love it. Currently, I am the DM for a monthly group of mid-twenty-somethings. Not forcing the DM (me) to make a nit-picky decision every twenty seconds, and not forcing the players to ask a nit-picky question every twenty seconds, allows us to focus on the role-playing aspect of the game.

I would say the band of greedy anti-heroes I’m DM-ing now is the best its ever been strictly because the new rules let them focus. I’ve actually seen players do things that are completely illogical from a tactical standpoint because they’re so focused on their role. It’s a beautiful thing for a DM to watch and makes all those hours spent building dungeons pay off.

So my hat goes off to you, Wizards of the Coast, for a ballsy shift in the RPG paradigm that really paid off.

Author’s note: This little story will only make any kind of sense if you’ve played the digital crack strategy game called Civilization …

“Mr. President, we have to talk about the unit.”

“What unit, Minister?”

“Remember the regiment that was forgotten in the Peltarsh Mountains?”

“Right. The unit of horse archers. Did we ever figure out what to do with all those old compound bows? I’ve got one in the armoury — it’s quite ingenious in design, you know, thought it’s primitive. Did you know it uses horn?”

“Yes, sir. We auctioned most of them off on E-Bay. The idea was to help pay for the retraining.”

“Excellent. I like to see our Departments using our resources efficiently. How is the unit shaping up?”

“Well, not as well as it did with our cavalry units. We had a surprising number of troopers who were able to fly the helicopters, and the rest really seem to like the idea of being called air cavalry.”

“And the horse archers?”

“Most of them seem to think the helicopters are some kind of god.”

“I see. Well we had to expect some problems. They were isolated in the mountains for centuries, without any word from us. If I remember the file, the country was still under the control of the ancient dictator Slagothon the Bloody when they last heard from the capital.”

“Yes. We’ve been trying to educate them and bring them into the 21st century. It has, uh, been somewhat costly.”

“How much?”

“About ten times what it takes to upgrade our cavalry units.”

“I see, and the recommendations?”

“Well, we think we can do it, but we may lose the unit cohesion that we were trying to save. The unit has quite a storied history. Did you know they defeated the Horde of Logdor on their own?”

“I see. Naturally, these are their descendants. So how much more do you think it will cost?”

“Estimates are high. Possibly 500 million.”

“And they think the helicopters are gods?”

“Yes. Every time a pilot gets into the cockpit they scream in horror. They think the god is eating them.”

“And when they come out?”

“Well, it’s a miracle to them. They’ve started worshiping the pilots. Or stoning them to death. It has started a small religious disagreement.”

“Could we just send them back to the mountains?”

“Sure. They’ve been guarding that flank of our country from the barbarians for centuries. I say we give them some rifles, a few officers with modern training, and let them do it.”

“So we have a plan.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

[pause]

“Well?”

“There’s just one other matter. You know our territories down in the Glotharian jungle? Well it turns out we have a unit of warriors down there.”

“What do you mean, warriors?”

“Well, it’s hard to define.”

“Give it a try Minister.”

“I should probably start by explaining that they are armed with clubs . . .”

We need to come together to face a plague of addiction more tragic than any in recent memory. It’s even worse than drug addiction; even worse than nicotine addiction; even worse than food addiction; even worse than gambling addiction; even worse than shopping addiction; even worse than sex addiction; even worse than Jane’s Addiction.

Actually, sex addiction sounds like it’s probably pretty good — I don’t care what anyone says.

What I am writing about is FarmVille addiction. And no less an authority than Dr. Phil has come out swinging against it:

Dr. Phil confronted a FarmVille-loving mother named Teresa about her duties to her children recently, and he thinks she would be better served to go out and “start a garden for real.”

…

[Y]ou have a ridiculous addiction to a ridiculous computer game that’s interfering with your ability to be a mother. You needed a fix, and she wouldn’t get off, so you had to create the opportunity.”

It’s good of Dr. Phil to bring such attention to a modern scourge that is — well, it pains me to write this, but — threatening to ruin my own life.

I have been touched by the tragedy of FarmVille addiction.

Nights previously spent watching reality television shows with my female companion are spent watching those shows virtually alone. Oh, yes, she sits on the couch beside me, but her attention is wholly on her laptop, and her never-ending FarmVille game.

“I just got a goat,” she tells me. “I have to put him in a pen so he doesn’t run around.” She speaks as if the goat is real, in a voice tinged by inadvertent Maria-like pathos.

“But, Tom Sizemore just brought a balloon of heroin into the Pasadena Recovery Center,” I tell her, motioning toward the television. She doesn’t even know what I’m talking about. She almost seems not even to care. “Tom Sizemore is giving rehab one more try — for crying out loud, he’s about to see Heidi Fleiss again! This is compelling stuff! Look at the television!”

My plea seems to fall on deaf ears; her face does not turn away from the computer screen.

It’s difficult, but I have to remind myself that she just can’t help it. If there’s one thing “Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew” has taught me, it’s that television doctors consider addiction to be a disease. It’s also taught me that they pretty thoroughly search you when you enter a rehab facility, so if I ever end up being sent to one, I will have to hide my drugs pretty well. Anyway, she doesn’t mean to taunt me, by sitting there with her game. She is addicted. How else to explain the fact that she is in the same room as me — a charming, witty, sophisticated and extremely good-looking man — and she is choosing to play with her goat rather than watch television with me?

There is only one explanation, and I thank Dr. Phil for articulating it.

10. Big Bag O’ Discarded Hypodermic Needles

9. Balloon Boy Self-Launch Home Kit

8. Easy-Bake Microwave Oven

7. Fisher-Price Choking Hazard

6. Baby’s First Power Stapler

5. Mr. Wizard’s Home Meth Lab

4. Fontanelle Lawn Darts

3. Miss Piggy Swine Flu Inoculation Kit

2. Owie! – The Fall-Off-The-Ladder Game

1. Zhu Zhu Flammable Hamsters
 

Bob Sullivan’s Top Ten Everything appears every Monday.

I read somewhere that the average age of a video gamer is approximately 30.  At 276, I’m still on the young side of life, but I can remember the days of 8-bit heroes and light guns.  (I kept all of mine, even the bad ones.)

In those carefree days of yore video games were weighed and measured exclusively by how much fun they were.  Then rankings ensued.  Because there was no internet I doubt any formal reviews exist for most games, but I once held an evening long debate over which game was better “Bart Simpson vs. the Space Mutants” or “Air Fortress.”  Sixteen years later, they are both primitive, but I can still play Bart.

Why isn’t anyone telling me if a game is fun to play?

I read a lot of free online reviews: IGN, GameSpot, 1Up, etc.  And after 500 to 1000 words they haven’t given me the only information I need to decide if I want to play the game: did you enjoy it.  Anymore the reviewer make playing games sound like work: such as the reviews for “Grand Theft Auto IV,” which made me feel like a life of crime was indeed a lot of hard work and networking, even if all you wanted to do was steal cars and run over the elderly.  The biggest and best games get flat uninteresting reviews.

Moreover, enthusiasm is saved for bad games, such as the reviews for “Golden Axe: Beast Rider.”  A game so awful I’ve seen people convulse from considering buying the game, but the review was fantastic.

I submit as evidence “Kung-Fu Panda.”  A fun game based on a fun movie, which I only played because it was free.

The game isn’t over simplified either.  It’s not simply running, jumping, and Kung-fu.  There are significant RPG qualities to the game in the upgrades screen.  If we’re being honest, that aspect is all that separates quite a few games from the slop pile, including “Star Wars: Force Unleashed” (an enjoyable game, which will hopefully see a more evolved sequel).

All I want from a game review is a single comment, if you weren’t paid to play this, would you have spent the time to finish it?

I began playing World of Warcraft (WoW) again recently. It’s my second time around. I played during my carefree college days, averaging 5 hours a day, which would have disrupted my social life except all my friends played too. Turning the weekends into prolonged LAN parties and foiling our chances with the microscopic female student body. The handful of us who had girlfriends transformed them into a support group named: Widows of Warcraft. Okay, only one of us had a serious girlfriend and she had the sleeping habits of a housecat. We’d play upstairs and she’d laze on the couch, watch movies or play PS2. I quit WoW, about a year after graduation, when the house cat went feral and divided friendships, incited deceit, which ruined our online guild. The guild amounted to a boys’ club — think Fleas or Rotary for a new generation.

I came back to WoW to fulfill my need to play videos economically and for a group of three friends. I’ve been waiting to hear back from MFA programs for quite some time now, and still have six +/- weeks to go. From January on I’ve hopped compulsively from TV to movies to my XBOX 360 and Wii, trying to fill the hours. About a week ago I realized three significant details: 1) once I get accepted to an MFA program (I refuse to believe otherwise, call me arrogant if you like, but without that belief I’m sunk) I’d have four or five months of working 9 to 5 and sitting around with which I need to cope; 2) I have a total of 170 hours of TV, about 6 to 8 weeks of viewing, waiting for me on my shelf; 3) sitting on your couch, with or without your roommate, waiting for a letter is an incredibly lonely way to live.

I would like to add that I try not to play my consoles while my roommate is awake, because she doesn’t play video games and she is also my sister. Our arguments tend to stretch back to our childhood and move forward — it’s best to avoid them. WoW on my laptop seemed like the best choice.

WoW provides me with an updated version of a party game. I can play alone or as I tend to do while chatting in game with friends. Instead of playing Canasta or Bridge, which requires everyone to enjoy the same game and play only when together, we have a highly customizable group activity. I can play Death Knight, while Derek plays a Mage, Heather, Derek’s serious housecat, plays a Hunter, and Patrick plays Priest. During the week we can play separately or meet virtually and play together. On Friday nights we can gather and sit around a table chatting, snacking, and drinking while we play together.

Group video gaming is nothing new. When I was in ninth grade Goldeneye was released on Nintendo 64, and the next year was spent going to friends’ houses to shoot at each other. After Goldeneye was Perfect Dark or some other shooter. Then, in 1999, Mario Party came out. I’m sure it wasn’t the first group oriented video game, but it was what my friends and I played endlessly.

So, what has changed in WoW?  Not much. Derek, Heather, Patrick, and I are gearing-up to hold weekly gamer parties. The game is as beautiful, complex, and expansive as I remember. And it still takes obscene amounts of time to do anything, but doing anything and everything is incredibly fun. Last night I picked flowers for two and a half hours and loved every minute of it.

Going to an MFA program won’t stop me from gaming, but one day I’ll have a wife and kids (or not), a house and yard (or not), a job that requires me to work ridiculous hours (or not) and I’ll have to give up gaming, or at least WoW, altogether. But until then, at 10 pm on most nights I will stroll over to my MacBook Pro, log-on, and become a Minotaur. Then I’ll find Derek, Heather, and Patrick so we can kill some zombies.