I took one of my favorite games — Blokus Classic — to my hometown during the Thanksgiving holiday. Calfgrit7 and I managed to make some time to play it together, but I couldn’t talk anyone else I asked into playing.

Then, at night I caught both boys playing on the floor with the board and all the pieces spread out. “No, no, no,” I almost screamed in horror.

“Honey,” Cowgrit said, “just let them play with it.”

“But, but, they’ll loose the pieces.”

“No they won’t. I’m watching them, and we’ll make sure to get everything back in the box.”

I was almost distressed, seeing my precious game (clearly labeled for “Ages 5 – adult”) being played with (as a toy) by a 7 year old and a 4 year old, in the middle of a cluttered floor. I wanted to immediately clean it all up and put it away. There are 84 very small pieces to Blokus, and loosing even one can completely throw off the play of the game.

But I was surrounded by family, in front of whom I didn’t want to seem like a ass of a father. So I let Cowgrit talk me down from my high-pitched whine.

The next night, when we were all back home, and our clothes and such were all put away, I checked my Blokus game box. I opened the game and started counting pieces. One was missing. Aaargh!

I called my mom to ask her to keep an eye out for the piece. So far, there’s been no sign of it.

I’m saddened. And it does no good to say to Cowgrit, “See, I knew they’d loose a piece!”

But do you see? I knew they’d loose a piece!

Bullgrit

We were on a family outing for the evening, and Calfgrit7 was sitting beside me showing off his latest Pokémon cards. Cowgrit had bought him a new pack of cards since the last time we played the game, so most of these were new to me. I was trying to read them, but I didn’t have my new glasses with me.

I could read the hit points and attack damages, barely. But for the attack descriptions, I had to hold the card about two feet from my face, and shift it just right to get good lighting on it. God, getting old sucks.

Then CG7 pointed to a part of the card I was holding and asked, “How does this power work?”

I pulled the card closer to my eyes, I held it away from my eyes, I shifted it this way and that to get lighting, and then tried reading, “Lustrous Orb. If . . . an . . . Active . . . Pokemon . . . has . . . Weakness . . . to . . . water . . . type, . . . Palkia’s . . . attacks . . .”

“You want me to read it for you?” my second-grader asked me.

How freakin’ pathetic am I? “Thanks, but no,” I said. “I can read it. Just give me a minute.” I finally did finish reading it, and I explained it to him. (I gave him my best guess, anyway, as I’ve never seen this kind of power on a Pokemon — it’s not a Poke-POWER or a Poke-BODY.)

When we got home, after the boys went to bed, I pulled out that card from his stack left on the kitchen counter. I put on my reading glasses and tried to read it again. Holy geez, but it’s difficult for me to read that tiny writing even with my glasses on. The next time I play Pokemon with him, I’m going to need a magnifying glass at hand.

It’s sad for me to think that being able to read the dag-blame game cards are going to start being an obstacle for me to play games with my boys. Do I need to petition Pokemon to make special large print versions of their cards?

Bullgrit

I learned a very cool thing about my new coworkers, yesterday.

I was watching over one coworker’s shoulder, while she instant messengered another coworker. I saw the guy she was talking to had a 20-sided die as his IM icon image. (I noted that the die was showing 11 instead of a natural 20.)

“Oh, he’s a gamer,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, “one of many around here.”

That statement intrigued me. There were many other gamers at this company? Cool. Now how can I find out who without seeming like a nerd asking around? We went on with our work.

Later, when back at my own desk, I added the gamer coworker as a contact in my IM list. I then sent him a message to say, “Hi.”

During our brief introduction, I asked him, “Why is your d20 icon on 11 instead of natural 20?”

“My birthday is on the 11th,” was his answer. “No one else has ever asked that question before.”

“Well,” I wrote, “I’m a gamer, too. So I notice that kind of thing.”

“Cool. Tom, Doug, and I play D&D with some other folks on Monday nights,” he wrote.

A little while later, again, the original coworker (whose shoulder I had been looking over) was in my office. I asked her if Doug was at our lunch gathering on my first day.

“Yes,” she said, “he was sitting beside me.” She apparently figured out why I asked, because she added, “Those guys play D&D together. And my husband plays, too, but with a different group.”

Amazing. I’ve joined a company full of gamers — and the company has nothing to do with the gaming industry. How freakin’ cool is that?

Bullgrit

Dragon magazine was the monthly magazine for Dungeons & Dragons. It was published from 1976 to this month 2007 — the last paper issue was #359, September 2007. Its content is now only published online, but that’s not really a magazine to me.

I had a subscription to Dragon from the early 80s to the early 90s, and I picked up individual later issues, off the newsstand, here and there through the years. Some years I’d only pick up one or two issues, but since somewhere around 2003, I’d been buying 3-6 each year. The September 1983 issue (25 years ago this month) had the only readership survey I ever saw in Dragon. (There may have been others, but I never saw them.)

I had filled out the survey, but I never sent it in. Of the 20 questions, I didn’t answer #15 “How do you rate DRAGON Magazine overall compared with other gaming magazines?” and #20 “What other magazines do you read?” I didn’t read any other magazines at the time, gaming or other.

Click the image to see the survey near full size. (You can also see my answers from 1983.)

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com