Gaming in the Wake of Tragedy
By
Matthew McFarland
Tuesday, September 11, 2001 was a strange day. I found out what was happening at roughly 9 AM while doing laundry, and sat, in horror and shock, as the whole thing unfolded. I got no work at all done, just watched CNN and tried to know what to feel. And somewhere in there, one of my Mage players called me and asked if we were gaming that night (Tuesday is our usual day).
I really didn’t know how to answer him. My first thought was to say, “No, of course not,” but then I examined what I was really feeling. I wanted to be with my friends. I wanted people to talk to, and I wanted to talk about the tragedy. If worst came to worst, I wanted shoulders to cry on. I wanted this whole damned thing to make sense.
So I said to my friend, “Yeah, unless I get people calling me to cancel, we’re on for tonight.” Even if we don’t end up actually playing, I thought.
We did, though. People showed up on time, we talked for a while, my wife made us dinner (I found out on Tuesday that I got a job that I can’t tell you about yet, which didn’t help my emotional roller coaster any — though it was really nice to get some good news). Then we jumped into the game.
It was very much like a normal session. People played their characters well, and the plot advanced a bit, and so on. But, the mood was very different. People were focused, but I think that in everyone’s mind was a little, nagging guilty feeling that maybe we shouldn’t be having a good time tonight. We finished up the game fairly early and I went to bed still thinking about that.
Over the last few days, I’ve been trying to come to terms (much like the rest of the world, I imagine). I donated money via Paypal.com because I’m phobic about needles (which kinda leaves donating blood out). I’ve been haunting the White Wolf forums trying to inject notes of humanity and intelligence where necessary and offering condolences when possible. I’ve been alternately inspired and disgusted by the way people have reacted to this, and the thought keeps coming back to me — why was I so keen to game on Tuesday? Was it because I wanted to brag about the job? Was it escapism? Am I really that callous?
I think the answer is this: Gaming is a multi-faceted hobby. You can role-play for the sheer fun of it, bashing orcs, taking the gold, racking up experience. You can role-play to tell a story, to create a character and see where fate takes him/her. You can role-play to find yourself — maybe somewhere in your character’s experience is a philosophy or a truth you can latch onto. And sometimes, you role-play because of what it means, at its most basic level — you get together with your friends and have a good time.
People have different reactions when tragedy strikes. Some folks joke — I saw it on the forums, people asking if New York by Night would need to be re-written. Some people cry, some get angry. But you have to find a way to cope, to reconcile the fact that this is the world in which you live. If that involves giving blood or money or time, that’s commendable. If it involves crying for justice, that’s understandable. If it involves going home and holding your spouse or lover or kids or pet, that’s wonderful (in fact I highly recommend that everyone reading this make a point to do exactly that). After funerals, sometimes couples will go home and make love. It’s not about arousal or sex, it’s about what Heinlein called “growing closer”, and it’s a human need. You can get that in any number of ways, from any number of activities, but I’ll assert that you can’t do it alone.
So, on Tuesday, my friends and I got together and played a role-playing game. It wasn’t about escapism or making light (or even making sense) of what had happened. It was about the six of us being together and supporting one another, finding the courage to reaffirm life in the face of death, by laughing and by pretending. It was about stating, even abstractly, that life goes on and that we will not allow this kind of atrocity to force us into fear and impotent grief.
Gaming is not, by nature, a therapeutic activity, but being with friends is. So, if you find yourself wanting to continue with the game this week, don’t feel guilty about it. Everyone copes differently, and there’s no shame in that.
© 2001 Matthew McFarland. No reproduction is allowed without the author’s express permission.