When We Were Wizards- The Story of D&D, An Oral History of Dungeons and Dragons

 

I went into When We Were Wizards expecting the usual: a polished nostalgia piece about the “good old days,” a bit of myth-making, and the same recycled narrative about how it all came together like lightning in a bottle.

That’s not what this is.

This is very well done.

Production-wise, it’s tight. Clean narration, strong pacing, and it actually respects the listener’s time. No rambling, no filler. It moves. More importantly, it builds. Each episode adds weight instead of just circling the same talking points you’ve heard a hundred times before.

But where it really stands out?

It’s willing to get uncomfortable.

The story of TSR, and the people behind it, especially Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson isn’t told like a campfire legend. It’s messy. It’s human. It’s full of ego, missteps, clashes, and decisions that don’t always age well.

And here’s the part that’s going to ruffle feathers:

If even half of what’s presented here is true, then the online narrative that paints Gygax as some flawless architect of the hobby is complete nonsense.

Absolute nonsense.

This doesn’t diminish what he accomplished. Not even close. Co-creating D&D is still one of the most important moments in gaming history. That doesn’t change.

But this podcast does something a lot of people don’t want to do: it separates achievement from myth.

Gygax comes across as brilliant, driven…and flawed. Very flawed. Same goes for Arneson. Same goes for just about everyone involved. Which, frankly, makes the whole story more compelling, not less.

Because now it actually feels real.

What you get here isn’t a sanitized origin story. It’s a collision of personalities at the exact moment this hobby was being born. Deals, disagreements, credit disputes, business decisions; some smart, some questionable, some outright disastrous.

That’s the story.

And it’s a better one than the polished version.

Now, is everything in this podcast gospel? Probably not. No historical retelling ever is. There’s always framing, always perspective. But that’s not really the point.

The point is that it challenges the comfortable version of events.

And honestly? That alone makes it worth your time.

So where do I land?

This is one of the better pieces of RPG history content I’ve come across. Not because it tells you what you want to hear...but because it doesn’t. If you’re looking for hero worship, this isn’t it.

If you want something closer to the truth; even if that truth is a little inconvenient? Then yeah, this is absolutely worth a listen.

And to close? I have immense respect for Gary and Dave. That also does not blind me to totality of the story. 

Gygax & Arneson vs. Jobs & Raskin: The Unsung Co-Creators Behind Big Revolutions

Who and Who?

Most people in the gaming world know the name Gary Gygax, but fewer recognize Dave Arneson. Likewise, in the tech world, Steve Jobs is a household name—Jef Raskin, not so much.

But the parallels between these two pairs are worth considering.

If you’re curious about the early days of personal computing, Andy Hertzfeld’s site is an incredible resource. He was one of the original eight creators of the Macintosh, and his behind-the-scenes stories offer a glimpse into how the Mac came to be. You can even find the iconic 1983–84 photo of the team there.

Jef Raskin was the one who originally envisioned the Macintosh project—until Jobs took it over and radically changed its direction. Sound familiar?

In the early days of D&D, Arneson showed Gygax some of his early ideas. Gygax ran with them and expanded the concept into something bigger. The tricky part is: we’ll never really know how much of what became D&D was Gary’s and how much was Dave’s. My gut says it was a mix—each pulling from different sources, shaping the foundation together.

In both cases, one figure became the face of a revolution, while the other became a footnote—despite having sparked the original idea. And in both cases, the full story is messy. In Arneson’s case, legal disputes kept parts of it sealed. In Raskin’s case, his original vision for the Mac can only be glimpsed through later projects like the Canon Cat, a fascinating what-could-have-been.

None of this is to discount Gygax or Jobs. Gygax’s genius was in pulling together disparate influences into something greater. Jobs had a vision that changed the world. But both men stood on the shoulders of others—collaborators, visionaries, and unsung pioneers.

So here’s some food for thought: How do we measure creative credit? How do we honor the sparks and the flames?

I encourage you to read more about Dave Arneson and Jef Raskin. Let me know what you think. Am I way off, or closer than I realize?

Who and who, you may ask?

Most people in the gaming world know the name Gary Gygax, but fewer recognize Dave Arneson. Likewise, in the tech world, Steve Jobs is a household name—Jef Raskin, not so much.

But the parallels between these two pairs are worth considering.

Dave Arneson, co-creator of D&D

If you’re curious about the early days of personal computing, Andy Hertzfeld’s site folklore.org is an incredible resource. He was one of the original eight creators of the Macintosh, and his behind-the-scenes stories offer a fascinating glimpse into how the Mac came to be. You can even find the iconic 1983–84 team photo there, along with updates on where the team was as of 2012.

Jef Raskin was the one who originally envisioned the Macintosh project — until Steve Jobs took it over and radically changed its direction.

Sound familiar?

In the early days of D&D, Arneson showed Gygax some of his early ideas. Gygax ran with them and expanded the concept into something much bigger. The tricky part is: we’ll never really know how much of what became D&D was Gary’s and how much was Dave’s. My gut says it was a true mix
— each pulling from different sources, shaping the foundation together.

In both cases, one figure became the face of a revolution, while the other became a footnote — despite having sparked the original idea. And in both cases, the full story is messy. In Arneson’s case, legal disputes kept parts of it sealed. In Raskin’s case, his original vision for the Mac can only be glimpsed through later projects like the Canon Cat — an interesting “what might have been.”

None of this is to discount Gygax or Jobs. Gygax’s genius was in pulling together disparate influences into something greater. Jobs had a vision that changed the world. But both men stood on the shoulders of others: collaborators, visionaries, and unsung pioneers.

So here’s some food for thought: How do we measure creative credit? How do we honor the sparks and the flames?

In 1985, both Steve and Gary lost control of the companies they helped create. Perhaps a blog post for another time.

I encourage you to read more about Dave Arneson and Jef Raskin. Let me know what you think. Am I way off, or closer than I realize?