The Goggles Stay On

"Save the Forest, Destroy AI Data Centers"

"Just like your father," his uncle sighed, and Valko could hear the affection in his relative's tone. "You know, Valko, you work yourself to the bone and don't even allow yourself the solace of release. I'm not saying you have to go out every night, but surely once in a while will not cause… Valko? Are you listening to me?"

But he wasn't. His attention had been stolen by a scent in the air, overpowering the effluvia of coffee and sandwiches. "Lavender," he murmured, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared as he inhaled the unexpectedly intriguing fragrance. "Amber. Lily of the Valley… Where..?" Rising to his feet, he leaned on the table as he scanned the cafe, seeking out the source of that beguiling aroma.

Soft laughter caught his ears and he glanced to the side, where three women were just being seated at a nearby table. He easily dismissed the two brunettes with an appreciative glance, but it was the dark-skinned woman with the riot of violet curls caught up in a thick braid that caught his attention. She was, without a doubt, the origin of that intriguing, irresistible scent.

"Valko?"

He didn't glance back as he stepped away from his chair. "One moment, uncle. Excuse me." Leaving the older man gaping at him, he wound his way through the crowded room to the table where the three women were talking animatedly over their menus. "Pardon me, ladies."

The doe-eyed brunette cut off mid-sentence and glanced up, brow furrowed with irritation. "We're…" She trailed off once she got a good look at him, and for the first time, he was grateful for the animal magnetism that so fascinated women of all species. "Fine," she finished. "Hello."

He grinned at her, though his attention was all for the violet-haired woman who was studying him suspiciously. "I hope you'll forgive the interruption, but I couldn't help myself." He placed his hand against his breastbone and executed a neat bow. "My name is Valko, and it is a pleasure to meet three such lovely ladies."

The doe-eyed brunette giggled at him. "Hello, Valko," she replied. "I'm Tara."

When his eyes slid to the other brunette, she smirked at him. "Simone," she offered, along with a tilt of her head that confirmed his initial impression of 'sassy'.

The number of people willing to accept players who won't read the rules even though they come back week after week is bizarre - you wouldn't accept it for any other game, and RPGs are just a kind of game! If the rules of one game are 'too complex' just switch to a different game! If they claim they 'don't have time' - cancel one session. That 3 hour block is now dedicated game-learning time, and 3 hours is plenty. Easy.

See, "RPGs are [...] a kind of game" is where the disconnect lies. There's a large chunk of the present D&D fandom who don't think of tabletop RPGs as games; they think of them as performances being put on by the GM for the audience of the players, who – like any audience – are obliged only to be physically present. In this understanding, the "game-ness" of the activity is part of the performance – i.e., the GM is merely pretending to moderate a game with rules as an act of kayfabe; there's no point learning the rules because there aren't "really" rules to learn.

(Partly this is a product of folks coming to the hobby whose sole prior experience is with high-production-value podcasts, where the GM actually is an entertainer putting on a show for an audience, and often a professional actor to boot; partly it's a product of Hasbro attempting to market D&D as a zero-entry-barrier hobby by framing the GM not as a fellow player with special responsibilities, but as a volunteer service provider whose job is to facilitate other people playing D&D.)