The Lord is my Game Master, and I am in it deep. He maketh me to lie down in minefields, He leadeth me beside the deadly waters. He restoreth my soul (when clerics of the proper level are present) He leadeth me down the paths of confusion for his game's sake. Yea when I walk though the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil for I know it will be present. Thy rod and they staff they quickly teach me of error. Thou preparest a table before me in the presences of mine enemies, Whom I must defeat to get there. Thou anointest my head with fireballs; My wounds runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy have nothing to do with the stuff you write. And I will dwell in the house of Arkham for every and ever.
— Garry Stahl
(Note: This was not written by me. It showed up on the gmmastery Yahoo Group and I felt it was worth sharing. :) )
Lilith,
I liked the “prayer”. Here’s an old email I sent a friend of mine after he sent me a poem concerning dice for his writing class. At the time we had been between games for about 3 or 4 months, hence the slant for my reply. :-)
My friend, a gamer.
Who doth wish to be a player.
Oh what cruel fate.
To have his dice sit and wait.
As his DM ponders ever more.
And thus does he sit.
His imagination bound with his wit.
Oh what to give?
So that his characters might live.
To play a game with no score.
To love, to fight.
Oh glorious gaming night.
So near, so far.
From the boundless depths, to the highest stars.
What adventures are in store?
And thus does it come to pass.
A phone call at the last.
Bud can you play?
We have orcs a waiting to slay.
And just maybe a scenario or two more.
The books, the dice, and characters into the sack.
A quick hop, skip and a jump for the snacks.
And soon does he dwell
Among old friends discussing past delves.
All the while praying his dice will not roll poor.
And now at last delight.
The swords, the spells, the fight.
As good again triumphs.
Amidst battle calls and an uproarious riot.
And never once finding his dice upon the floor.
And now the night has ended.
The chips depleted, the soda bottles upended.
The players have gone.
The DM has yawned.
As he sits thinking "Oh for one orc more."
Good gaming,
Mark
hehe, I thought this would be a prayer for help for butthead players. Played in a game that just started up a couple weeks ago and a couple players just sit there and detract from the game session and never join in the game really; their characters just sit in the bar and complain; wierd.