Gaming, Growing Up, and the Ghost of the ’80s

Glad it didn't happen in my town in the 1980s...

Of Stranger Things

As I reflected on THE CAMPAIGN in (Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI ) , I realized how deeply formative that experience was for me—not just as a gamer, but as a early teen navigating the strange and wondrous years of adolescence. Decades later, the memories are still vivid: the characters we played, the choices we made, the jokes, the deaths, the victories. But more than that, I remember the feeling of it all. The time. The place.

Am I filling in gaps? Romanticizing the rough edges? Probably. But does that matter?

I don’t think it does.

In many ways, these memories aren’t about perfect accuracy. They’re about meaning. About resonance. And as I think about this, I’m reminded of something else that tapped directly into those same feelings: Stranger Things.

Later this year, Stranger Things will come to an end. And while the Upside Down didn’t open up beneath my small Western New York town (that I know of), the show still managed to capture something remarkably true. The way it recreates the 1980s—from the mall culture and cassette decks to the friendships forged over character sheets and Mountain Dew—feels like it was pulled from the collective memory of an entire generation.

It’s often called a “love letter” to Gen X gamers. But I think it’s more like a message in a bottle. Something we threw out to sea decades ago, filled with the thoughts we couldn’t quite name at the time. And now, years later, the tide has returned it to us—weathered, a little warped, but still true.

Or maybe it’s a time capsule. Buried and forgotten, until one day it cracks open and you’re face to face with who you were.

That’s how rereading what I wrote about THE CAMPAIGN felt. Like opening something sealed away by time. Like remembering who I used to be when everything felt new and limitless.

There’s a scene in Stranger Things that stuck with me: Will wants to keep the game going, but Mike is distracted—by Eleven, by the changes pulling them into adolescence and away from childhood. That dynamic mirrored what happened with our group. After THE CAMPAIGN we migrated toward Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, Twilight 2000, and 2nd Edition AD&D. By our late teens, we had landed in Warhammer Fantasy Battle. The games were still fun—but the magic of THE CAMPAIGN never quite returned.

Not because we stopped playing. But because we were growing up.

That was our zenith. Our Stranger Things moment. And while everything that followed had its own feel to it, nothing quite recaptured the spell of that first, long campaign.

Like the kids in Hawkins, we changed. The world changed. And that’s part of why the show resonates so deeply. It reminds us of what we left behind—not just dice and character sheets, but a sense of discovery, of possibility, of unbreakable bonds forged in basements and dimly lit bedrooms. And rock-hard stale pizza left over from the week before.

Yes, some of us stayed friends. But life took us in different directions—careers, families, moves across the country. In my case, I eventually found myself back in the town where it all started.

As Season Five approaches, I suspect Stranger Things will be about more than monsters. It’ll be about endings. About letting go. Maybe even about what comes after. But for those of us who lived that era—not just watched it—that ending is going to land differently.

It’s going to mean something.

I’m looking forward to it. But I’ll admit—I’m also bracing myself. Because saying goodbye, even to something that only existed in fiction, still stirs up everything we thought we left behind.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the point.

1st Edition AD&D- the Finale- Part VI

 

My dark elf fighter/mage is about to be killed next...

 

The Final Battle – Closing the book on THE CAMPAIGN

(Parts I, II, III, IV and V) 

This post marks the last entry in my series on THE CAMPAIGN—the high school AD&D 1st edition game that, for me, was the campaign. The one that still lingers decades later.

As with the rest of this series, I’m working purely from memory. I didn’t keep notes back then, and whatever map I had (drawn as we explored) is long lost. We were closing in on higher levels—by 1st edition standards anyway—and after nearly two years of weekly play, the campaign was winding down. Other games were starting to pull us away. I think Twilight 2000 was next, followed by Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay. We ran through The Enemy Within in that system—with all the grim, disfiguring horror that implies.

But before the curtain closed, we had unfinished business.

The Trail of Dragotha 

We had been on Dragotha’s trail for the better part of a year—always just missing him, arriving to find carnage in his wake. Jim’s dwarf, in particular, had a personal vendetta. His kin had been slaughtered, and he wasn’t letting that go. Other characters had their own reasons. Mine was tasked with recovering the Shield of Arion, a dark elf relic lost to Dragotha’s grasp.

Eventually, we tracked him to a dungeon lair. The crawl was brutal, filled with clerics who stood in our way. I don’t remember the dungeon being more than one level deep, but I do remember the intensity of those battles. The enemy clerics weren’t just spell-slinging NPCs—they were designed to jam us up. And they worked. That design stuck with me. Years later, I modeled the clerics of Orion in one of my own campaigns after them: high-level threats with spells and powers that players couldn’t easily exploit. The same design philosophy that Gary used for the Drow—challenging, alien, and off-limits to players.

Into the Lair

Eventually, we reached a long, narrow hallway. At the far end was a reinforced door—and through it, Dragotha finally emerged. That's it, a door. Huh?

The Choke Point 

It was a clever setup. Not a grand throne room or wide-open space, but a choke point. No flanking, no big AOEs, no fireballing from range. He met us head-on. The melee fighters couldn’t all get into position at once. Our two big spellcasters—Daryl’s pyromancer and my fighter/mage—had no safe shots. Jeff knew what he was doing. He wanted the fight up close and personal. We couldn’t “call in the artillery” without nuking our own front line. 

And so the melee began

Dragotha came out swinging. In short order, he killed both Tom’s half-ogre and Jim’s dwarf—using, fittingly, the very weapons they were questing after. He wielded the dwarven axe and bore the Shield of Arion, turning our character goals into lethal instruments. Both were gone in the opening exchange.

Dave’s halfling fighter/thief stepped up next, narrowly dodging death. Then my dark elf joined the melee. I don’t remember Chris’s illusionist being present, and Mike’s cleric/ranger actions are fuzzy. But I clearly recall the turning point: with our heavy hitters down, I dropped a lightning bolt—not the spetum I was specialized in, but magic. That bolt finished Dragotha off.

Aftermath

I’ll always remember the scene: the dead on the floor, the battle map filled with fallen PCs, and the BBEG finally going down. That was the end. The campaign wrapped, and we moved on to other worlds. But multiple deaths and me ending it with a spell I used on occasion but not as frequently as fly and fireball.

The Campaign

Looking back, one of the most effective elements of THE CAMPAIGN was how Jeff personalized the stakes. Three of us had “McGuffins” directly tied to Dragotha. And they weren’t custom-made evil weapons—they were our cultural artifacts: a dwarven axe, a halfling bear cloak, a dark elf shield. Turning those against us was brilliant. Like Thulsa Doom wielding Conan’s father’s sword—it hits harder when the blade belonged to you.

Since then, I’ve played in great games, mediocre ones, and forgettable sessions. But THE CAMPAIGN stands alone—not just for what happened at the table, but for the friendships it forged. We’ve been at each other’s weddings, watched our kids grow up, argued, drifted, reconnected, and stayed part of each other’s lives.

And I wouldn’t trade it—or them—for anything.

1st Edition AD&D Part V- The Adventures

 

Oddly, no one in the campaign used a long sword primarily...

Delving Into the Adventures of THE CAMPAIGN

Up to now, I’ve been chronicling the characters, setting, and Big Bad Evil Guy (BBEG) of THE CAMPAIGN. This time, I’m digging into the actual adventures we played—some homebrew, some pulled from the pages of Dungeon Magazine. Jeff, our DM, had great taste, and it shows in the ones I still remember decades later. His blend of original material and curated modules set the tone for a campaign that stuck with me all these years.

Dungeon Magazine Gems

Dungeon Magazine had some absolutely killer content in its heyday, and I think that rubbed off on me. Even years later, when I started DMing regularly, I’d often modify Dungeon adventures to fit my world.

Two stand out clearly:

The Wounded Worm –Dungeon #8

The imagery of the final dungeon still sticks with me: I can see us approaching the cave, then facing the red dragon in the final room. That fight was brutal—my wand got torched (maybe the cloak of the bat too), and a couple of party members died. My dark elf barely made it out alive.

Later, I used some of the dragon’s hide to reinforce my bag of holding. Jeff liked the idea so much, he gave it a bonus to item saves vs. fire. That’s the kind of campaign it was: things felt earned.

Ward of WitchingWays – Dungeon #11

This one hit hard. We were shipwrecked and forced to swim to the isle, which was already a dramatic setup. I picked up my cloak of the bat and wand of polymorphing here. Jeff started dropping hints that my familiar and spell books were in danger, which I found odd—I wasn’t overpowered or anything. So I made my familiar watch the bag of holding from a safe distance during the final encounter. I remember Jeff being really annoyed by that. Score one for the player.

At one point, someone got polymorphed into a bird. I used the wand to turn foes into snails more than once. Since I was the only one who could use most of the magic items (Daryl’s fire mage and Chris’s illusionist couldn’t), I ended up with a lot of them. Eventually, Jeff realized how nasty the wand really was and made me lose it in an item saving throw. I was a very tactical player even back then—used my stuff sparingly and strategically, especially when I knew the wand was low on charges.

Years later, Wards of Witching Ways is one of my favorite modules of all time. 

Other Memories & Adventures

We played every week for two years, and Jeff ran most of it from his own imagination. While some adventures are long lost to time, fragments still remain:

The Icy Cave and the Blue-Glimmer Sword

We faced a white dragon early in the campaign—so early that only I had to make a fear check. The fight was rough, but we won. A glowing +2 longsword was found stuck in a block of ice, which I ended up using from time to time. It had no powers beyond glowing blue and lighting up the frozen chamber. I liked it. Of course, it eventually failed an item saving throw.

Undead Centaurs in the Grassy Hills

I remember a long stretch of grassy hills and a sudden attack by undead centaurs. What made the fight memorable was Christian’s illusionist summoning a phantom longbow using phantasmal force and firing it—doing fake damage, sure, but it bought us time. It was a clever use of illusion magic in a ruleset where illusions are often hard to adjudicate. Dave and I joined in with real bows while they were still at range.

The Infamous Wyvern Migrations

This was one of the things that made the world feel alive. For several in-game months, we’d see wyverns migrating overhead during our nightly watches. My character was careful not to draw attention during his shift. That peace ended the night Tom’s half-ogre made a ruckus and drew them down on us. I forget who died, but somebody definitely didn’t make it.

The One Night I Nearly Died

Everyone in the party died at least once—except my fighter/mage. I had okay HP and high damage output thanks to specialization and the ogre power bracer, but I couldn’t take hits. One time in a dungeon I got smacked down to -9 HP. Dave’s halfling was nearby and hadn’t acted that round—he managed to stabilize me just in time. One more point and I’d have been gone. As the only full elf in the group, raise dead wasn’t going to work on me, and our cleric didn’t have a scroll or rod of resurrection. I’ve had plenty of characters die over the years, but that one felt like it was close—too close.

The World Itself

Our party traveled far: by boat, overland, even deep into unexplored territory. The continent’s coast lay to the south, and I still vaguely remember a major river splitting the map. Sadly, my hand-drawn map is long gone. The world had that Baldur’s Gate 1 vibe—revealing itself as we explored. I loved that feeling.

I think the next post will be the wrap-up for this series on THE CAMPAIGN. After that, I’ll touch on some of the other campaigns we played—including the disaster that was our run of the original Ravenloft module. Let’s just say there were construction paper gravestones involved… and a body count to match. 

1st Edition AD&D Part IV- The Adversary

Obviously he hadn't gotten the dark elf shield of Arion yet...

The Big Bad EVIL Guy (But Not That Dragotha)

Continuing my deep dive into the backstory of THE CAMPAIGN, it’s time to talk about the BBEG — the “Big Bad Evil Guy” who loomed large over our game like a shadow cast from the past. Nearly every fantasy story has one, and ours was no different. Like several of our party’s PCs, the BBEG was based on a Citadel miniature. In this case, it was a Chaos Warrior model — just like the one that inspired Tom’s half-ogre fighter.

Back then, everything was 25mm scale, but even in that tiny frame, the mini managed to look genuinely intimidating. Of course, the only time I can remember actually seeing it on the table was during the very end of the campaign — right where it belonged.

You can find a bunch of those classic Chaos Warrior minis here. 

What set this villain apart wasn’t just the miniature, but how cleverly Jeff (our DM) used it to create narrative hooks. Remember at the time we were like 13-14, this was new ground. The villain’s design directly inspired the three major MacGuffins the party was chasing — each tied to a personal quest from the backstory of three PCs:

• Dave’s halfling fighter/thief was searching for a stolen bear cloak — a symbol of status or tradition among his people.

• Jim’s dwarf fighter was seeking a legendary battle axe that had been lost.

• My dark elf fighter/rune-caster, Relendor, was after the Shield of Arion — a sacred relic tied to his church and culture. (I’ve included a pic of it below.) As I mentioned in a previous post, it dealt a nasty 2–20 damage in melee.

It’s worth appreciating that Jeff built a reason for three out of seven characters to want this villain dead — and wove all those threads back to one miniature. That's some Thulsa Doom–level villainy.

The shield of Arion in "The Campaign"

So, Who Was Dragotha? (No, Not That Dragotha)

Our version of Dragotha wasn’t the infamous undead dragon from the Tome of Horrors. He was a powerful warrior — possibly with some clerical magic — and definitely a terror in combat. As a 1st Edition villain, he was likely double-specialized in the battle axe and paired it with the Shield of Arion, giving him three attacks per round. Basically, he could mow down just about anything in his path.

His symbol? The Cross of Confusion — naturally. I mean, it was the '80s, so of course we were “satanic” punks, right? (As a side note: I’ve been reading these AD&D books for 30+ years and still can’t conjure a single cantrip. Clearly doing something wrong. Where’s my real power, Dark Dungeons?!)

That symbol popped up throughout the campaign — banners, carvings, crumbling ruins. I distinctly remember it flapping above a desecrated chapel during one of our early encounters. That moment stuck with me. It was probably our first real glimpse of the evil we were chasing.

Shadows of Dragotha

We ran into his minions here and there, but Dragotha himself? He was more often felt than seen. We’d enter an area and find wreckage in his wake — signs of his influence, his chaos, his corruption. His presence hung over the campaign like smoke.

As for what the rest of the party had against him, I honestly can’t say — at least not without digging through Jeff’s old notes (if they still exist). Hopefully someday we’ll uncover more of that lost lore. I do remember the final confrontation with him, but I’ll save that for the proper send-off when I wrap up the full campaign recap.

Until then...

1st Edition AD&D Part III- The Adventuring Party

 

Close enough, my familiar Soot and the lazy fire drake featured!

 

The Adventuring Party

This post will be a bit shorter the the others to follow if for no other reason I don't have all of the details, the DM who ran THE CAMPAIGN does ahem ;) In my last post here Post Part II I outlined my character a mercenary dark elf fighter/magic-user named Relendor Silkenweb. Now, until we unearth some more details from notes from either Dave or Jeff might have I'm going to have to do this from memory. It was ironic that after this campaign I started to take more notes. Also one of the first things I started doing was writing down player and names, classes of characters in greater detail, but not here :( Looking back at it there were indeed seven of us in the group (I thought eight previously) with Jeff DMing. The players and their characters are as follows circa 1987 for the start of the game:

1. Dark elf Fighter/Runecaster- (Me) As outlined previously specialized in spetum and wielding a magical bracer of ogre power. He did not have the dark elf magic resistance but did have utlization of his regular male abilities. At various times had a cloak of the bat, wand of polymorhping and other magical accoutrements. Had a black cat familiar named Soot. Was a very effective fighter with specialization and often served as the 3rd best fighter or a backup to the half ogre and dwarf in melee. 
    
   
2. Half Ogre Fighter- (Tom) encased in full plate by the end, this brute wielded a massive warhammer inspired by his miniature which was a citadel chaos warrior, specifically this one here: chaos warrior mini I remember him getting killed a few times and obviously was our best fighter. I believe we had to raise him from the dead at least twice. 
    
   
3. Dwarf Fighter- (Jim) for this character my recollections are the most sketchy. I only vaguely remember the mini, but still can't quite place it. He was a typical axe toting dwarf and probably the second best fighter from what I can recall or certainly 1B. Jim was a very back story driven player from what I recall. Like the half-ogre above, I recall two deaths for the dwarf.
   
   
4. Halfling Fighter/Thief- (Dave) No recollection of the mini that represented him but I do recall his quest against Dragotha revolved around a bear cloak of some importance to the character and perhaps the halflings in the realm. Dave was a very inventive and smart player. He was the only one who had thief as part of his class. This brings up a good point as we will see three multi-class characters in the group. Dave's mini I recall was one he painted for himself. 
    
   
5. Half-Elf Cleric/Ranger- (Mike) Mike was the older guy in the group by maybe 3-4 years at most and the only one who could drive, hence he had to go on the pizza runs. His character may have been an elf but I seem to recall half elf. I also have a recollection of this character being female, but I'm not quite sure if I'm confusing it with some characters in my later 2^nd edition campaigns that I've played in. Wielded two maces in combat. Our only healer in the group. Gulp!
   
   
6. Human Pyromancer- (Daryl) before specialized wizards made their appearance in 2^nd edition Jeff had them in his game. The pyromancer as might be imagined specialized in fire based spells and as an added touch had a fire drake from the Fiend Folio as a familiar! The best part as I clearly recall Daryl saying in game “he's a lazy slug” indeed the drake rarely did anything it didn't want to and would rarely breathe on anything, especially if we needed him to do. I vaguely recall the mini for the character as a Citadel one, but cant quite place it. 
    
   
7. Human Illusionist- (Christian) this character is another hazy one as I recall Chris being there less regularly then the rest of us. Chris played his illusionist well and creatively, not unbalancing as illusions can be so tricky in 1^st and 2^nd edition AD&D. I remember one key encounter which I'll detail in a later post where he created an illusion of a magical bow out of thin air and began firing it; a practical and well thought out illusion that stuck in my mind.
   

The only other person who gamed with us on a regular basis in this group was Pete, but for some reason or another I do not recall him or a character he played involved in this group. In all I'd say not bad remembering something from 25 years ago with no notes. 
 
As I was jotting through these guys I remembered another facet to the campaign. We did not get to see the map, as we explored I mapped it with the places we had ventured. I can picture it to a degree, but I no longer have my sketch. In a way it functioned much like how things did in Baldur's Gate one with the map being revealed as one explored it
 
The next post will detail some of the broad undertakings of the group and some other background as well as our nemesis Dragotha, no, not that Dragotha!

1st Edition AD&D Part II- My character, Relendor Silkenweb

Relendor and his familiar, the black cat, Soot

 

My Character

In the previous installment, I shared the origin of what I still call THE CAMPAIGN. That post covered the broad scope of the game—the 40,000-foot view, so to speak. Before I dive into the rest of the adventuring party, I want to focus on one of the only surviving artifacts from that era: my character sheet.

You’ll find a scan of it below. But before we get to that, a bit of context.

From what I can piece together, this isn’t the original sheet. The first page—the one with the main stats—was typed by Jeff, not me. The second page, which lists equipment and magic items, is definitely mine. I typed it up on my old Atari 800XL, typos and all. I recognize the format and the misspellings immediately.

The version I have is from later in the campaign. Some items had been gained, others lost. But it still brings back a flood of memories, and it’s the most tangible link I have to that incredible game.

 

First Glance at the Character Sheet

Looking at the first page of the character sheet, a few things jump out.

First—why does my character have such low Charisma? Trying to tell me something, Jeff? Ha!
More seriously, you’ll notice the Strength stat and a note about exceptional strength. That’s because I had a magical studded bracer of ogre power—functionally the same as gauntlets—but it only applied to the arm I was wearing it on. Why? Who knows. It never really caused problems in play, especially since my character fought with an unusual weapon for a dark elf: a spetum.

You’ll also see a note about ambidexterity, and under “Abilities,” the line: “You have all of the male drow abilities and penalties.” That said, I don’t recall ever fighting in the classic two-weapon drow style—not once. Why? Because I specialized in the spetum, and by the end of the campaign, I believe I was double-specialized.

Yeah, that was a house rule. But like I mentioned in Part I, we were walking our own path. I think I went through a number of magical spetums during the game, mostly because several of us were failing item saving throws at one point or another. Despite all that magic and specialization, I wasn’t the party’s top fighter—that title probably went to the half-ogre.

Fun aside: I’d just gotten a new set of smoke-colored translucent dice in the mail before we started this campaign. That d20 rolled 19s constantly. I must have used up all my luck in 1987, because now it barely rolls double digits.

The Equipment Sheet (and the Cat I didn't Ask for)

The equipment sheet was typed by me—misspellings, formatting quirks, and all. It is what it is.

Because Identify is so under-powered in 1st Edition—and due to the nature of Jeff’s campaign—we often had no idea what magic items actually did. We’d pick something up, mess around with it, and eventually figure it out... or not

Looking over the list now, it’s nothing earth-shattering. As I mentioned back in Part I, we’d just come off a short high-level campaign, so this time around we were intentionally going lower-powered. The magical bracer of ogre power was the first real item my character acquired. Oddly enough, it survived every item saving throw all the way to the end of the campaign.

One item I distinctly remember but didn’t list was the cloak of the bat. In hindsight, a cloak of the arachnid might’ve made more sense thematically, but the bat cloak served me well—until it was obliterated in a failed fireball saving throw. I still remember the collective sigh of relief from the rest of the party; apparently I’d been a little too enthusiastic about using it.

Then there’s the book of summoning “homucumuls.” Yes, I butchered the spelling. And no, I never actually used it. I think I kept it tucked away in my pouch of holding, waiting for the day my familiar bit the dust. Summoning a homunculus would’ve been cool, and it fit the tone of the character... it just never happened.

Broom? Book of Black Poetry? No idea on those...

The Familiar That Shouldn't Have Been

Here’s where things get weird. I’m not a cat person. I’ve always preferred dogs—still do. So imagine my frustration when I cast Find Familiar and, through random rolls, ended up with... a cat. Of course.

But then something unexpected happened.

Jeff’s family cat, Cogswell, started curling up on my lap every Saturday night during our sessions. He wasn’t a clingy cat otherwise, and I have no idea why he chose me—but there he was, week after week, purring away while I played. That was the only cat I ever genuinely liked.

Strangely, he never seemed interested in anyone else’s lap—or even in leaving mine. Every Saturday, it was like clockwork.

(Quick side note: despite not liking cats, I don’t like seeing them harmed either. My wife calls me “Diego the Animal Rescuer” because injured or stray animals just... find me. More than once we’ve had them show up at our house out of the blue.)

Anyway, somehow my familiar survived the entire campaign. Maybe it was dumb luck. Or maybe the real-life cat curled up on my lap had something to do with it. I’ll never know.

I also suspect Cogswell loved our gaming rituals. We’d usually chip in for pizza, and Mike (the older guy in our group) would drive out and get it. The empty pizza box often got left behind in the basement, and by the next Saturday, we’d find the cat munching on leftover crust—or whatever had hardened to the consistency of a brick.

Relendor Silkenweb, Miniatures and the Shield of Arion

One detail that still stands out from that campaign was Jeff’s use of his extensive Citadel Miniatures collection. He painted them himself—and did a great job by the standards of the time. Dave may have painted his too, though I wasn’t into miniature painting yet back then.

Looking back, the miniatures had a surprising influence on how we envisioned our characters. Mine was one of the 3rd Edition Foot Cavalry—a model named Toruviel Longstride. That mini, painted with dark blue skin and jet-black features to match the drow aesthetic, became the visual foundation for my character. Even the shield he carried would later factor into his personal goals and backstory.

And so there he was—one of my all-time favorite fighter/magic-users: Relendor Silkenweb.

A Name From the Vault

 I remember leafing through D3: Vault of the Drow in search of a name, and on page 14 I found “Captain Relonor.” Somehow that evolved into “Relendor,” and it stuck.

Relendor had one other distinction: he was the only PC in the campaign who never died. Every other party member was slain at least once, but somehow, he dodged that fate. I do recall one close call—he was dropped to -9 HP in a dungeon and stabilized immediately, purely by luck, thanks to a nearby party member. Probably because of Cogswell...

The Shield of Arion

Relendor’s full backstory is lost to time, but I remember the broad strokes. He had been sent by the Church of Arion (no Lolth in this setting) to recover the Shield of Arion, which had been stolen by a villain named Dragotha. Same name as the iconic undead dragon from D&D lore, but in this campaign, Dragotha was not a dracolich—just a powerful antagonist who ended up tying into all our characters’ backstories. He served as the thread that bound the party together.

I only ever read my own backstory, and sadly I no longer have it. Hopefully Jeff still has those character write-ups tucked away in his gaming archives somewhere.

That’s all for now. Next time, I’ll chronicle the rest of the adventuring party and the players behind them.

Previously, I said there were seven of us—but there may have been eight. I think Jim might have been playing with us at the time, and I seem to recall him running a dwarf fighter. I’ll have to see if I can jog the memory.

Until next time.

1st Edition AD&D Part I- A walk to remember

 

Not exactly accurate, but accurate enough.

Introduction

No, not the book or the movie of the same name—this is the first part of a long-ago campaign from the halcyon days of my youth. It still stands as one of the best gaming experiences I’ve ever had.

Let me get the sentimental stuff out of the way first. Over the years, I’ve been lucky enough to play in some great games, but two stand out as truly exceptional. And in both, I wasn’t the DM—I was a player, running a dark elf character. Now, before you roll your eyes and picture a dual-wielding drow ranger, hear me out. The first of these characters wasn’t anything like that, and the campaign predated 2nd Edition by a few years.

I started gaming in 1982, making me what I call a “late 1st Edition” player—a hybrid player, really. I played with a few local groups before joining up with the crew that would eventually become my high school gaming circle. That’s where I met Dave and Jeff. Looking back, it might’ve seemed like an odd friendship, especially through the lens of high school stereotypes. We were an eclectic bunch: we all played sports (I played football), we were in advanced classes (well, the others more than me—I was a late bloomer), and we didn’t exactly fit into a single crowd.

Even so, I gravitated more toward those guys than the kids I played football with. My wife—who went to a different high school—once called me a “closet nerd,” and she wasn’t wrong. Turns out that choice was a good one. Dave, Jeff, and I became lifelong friends.

A Seat at the Table

I remember the moment clearly. It was the fall of 1987 when I approached them at lunch and started talking AD&D. It was a deliberate move—I knew they were better players than I was, and I wanted to learn from them and game with them. We’d all been in the same school system since kindergarten, and while I wasn’t close with them until then, they’d been friends for years. Not long after that conversation, I was invited to join a Saturday night game at Jeff’s house.

Don’t judge us—we were freshmen. All the girls in our grade were dating older guys who had cars, while we were still zipping around on BMX bikes. I pedaled over to Jeff’s place, headed down into the basement, and that’s where the magic started.

Before that, we’d played in a short-lived high-level game run by an older player named Mike. We were going up against a lich, and while it was fun, it was more of a one-off that only lasted a few sessions. Jeff also ran a proto-campaign as a kind of warm-up, but it didn’t go far. He was already planning something bigger.

We all agreed to the concept and began developing characters. It wasn’t the only memorable campaign I’d ever play in—but it was, and still is, one of the very best.

Part I – The Game

Jeff did a lot of DMing back then, and even early on, his creativity stood out. One of the most unique aspects of this campaign was that we didn’t know our characters’ exact ability scores or hit points. Instead, Jeff used a descriptive range system inspired by the Monster Manual’s intelligence listings. So instead of a number, we might see “Good” or “Exceptional” written on the character sheet. We could make educated guesses, but we were never fully sure.

We used seven stats, with Comeliness renamed to Appearance. Hit points were similarly obscured, which added a level of uncertainty that made the game feel more dangerous. And almost all of our backstories were written by Jeff. We gave him a name and a class—or classes—and he filled in the rest. That decision added depth and cohesion from the start. The group wasn’t just a bunch of strangers who “met in a tavern.” We had shared history, and it made everything feel more real.

After that, the campaign was a sandbox. We had the freedom to go where we wanted, but there were character arcs, interwoven goals, and shared consequences. No railroads—just story.

Jeff’s rules were flexible. My character, for instance, was a multi-classed fighter but still got to specialize in weapons. He pulled material from Dragon Magazine, particularly the issues in the #110–130 range. I still use a lot of content from those today. In fact, my sheet includes a notation for Fighting Styles from Dragon #127, so I know exactly what was being used.

He also ran a few adventures pulled from Dungeon Magazine (issues #1–81), which I’ve since collected. I’ll cover some of those in later posts—they were excellent, and Jeff’s picks were always solid.

What really made the game sing, though, was the energy. We were excited to play and had the time to do it. Every Saturday night for nearly two years, we gathered for that campaign. I remember racing home after football games in the fall, barely taking time to change out of my uniform before hopping on my bike and heading to Jeff’s basement. That’s how much fun we were having.

Rules-wise, we were using 1st Edition AD&D with elements of Unearthed Arcana. That’s what gave me the idea to play a dark elf, though the main reason was just to try something different. In previous groups, I often played fighter/magic-users—or sometimes even triple-classed as a fighter/cleric/magic-user, especially in the L series.

What’s Next

In Part II, I’ll go into more detail about the players and their characters—names where I remember them, motivations where I can piece them together. I didn’t take many notes back then (not like I do now), but Jeff’s digging through his old stuff, and we’ll see what surfaces.

There were seven of us in that group, and we were a force to be reckoned with.

This post is mostly from memory, and all I really have to go on is that—and one worn old character sheet. But it’s a good place to start.

Until next time.