The break after six months brought a week-long vacation, and upon returning to my hometown, I felt a sense of detachment, as if I no longer belonged there. The specifics of that time have blurred, but the eagerness to resume my newfound life and be with friends who shared a passion for dice, storytelling in worlds of darkness, and galaxies far, far away persisted. As I delved into the realm of computer repair, I embraced the opportunity to shadow as a “ferret.”

Getting to know the computer ferrets—Maz, Dal, Blue, Lear, Dav, and others—I immersed myself in the trade, even though there wasn’t an immediate opening for me. Spending a week shadowing and reading “How Computers Work,” I found myself briefly dozing off at my desk in the midst of absorbing knowledge.

The turning point came when I was invited to join a gaming session. Engaging with this group felt transformative; I wasn’t merely hanging out but connecting with individuals who would become like brothers. Spending long hours together, both at work and in gaming sessions, forged bonds that transcended physical distance. Today, even though we’re scattered, the connection remains, whether communicated through social media or remembered for those who have passed on.

Entering the gaming sessions, I didn’t jump in blindly. I shadowed sessions and read the core West End Games Star Wars rulebook, asking questions for clarification. Venturing into various worlds like White Wolf’s World of Darkness, Earthdawn, and others opened up new realms beyond the video games I had played for years. The freedom to create characters, shaping their histories, trials, and tribulations, set tabletop gaming apart.

Character creation was meticulous, from crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s to establishing merits and flaws, distributing skill points, and deciding primary attributes. Once prepared, the real adventure began. The story unfolded based on the Game/Dungeon Master’s ideas, with NPCs and villains brought to life by the master’s narration. The world, from landscapes to cities, was crafted without hardware limitations, allowing players to act with boundless imagination. Choices had consequences, and a skilled GM could react as swiftly as a player.

This new life allowed me to play fictional characters in a fictional world, offering a journey of self-discovery. While not a hobby for many, those who look down on gamers from their perch of sports or soap operas impose limitations on themselves. My experiences weren’t confined to watching a team win or a favorite character perish. I raided an Imperial base on the outer rim, survived a Sabbat raid in Seattle, and stabbed a dragon in the eye—all accomplished with dice and imagination. The worlds played out based on my choices and misjudgments, pitting my wit against the GMs who had the entire world to challenge me, where the difference between life and death could hinge on the roll of the dice.