on gaming and real life

so, Monday night, while I was in the process of getting a cold, we were playing D&D. our little party is in an abandoned monastery looking for some sort of mystical documents, and maybe a magical opal. and I think we’ve gotten ourselves into a little more complicated trouble than we really wanted to; we captured a disreputable noble, only he escaped, and has persuaded a happy bunch of pseudo-lawful-good fighters to come after us. and we’re backed into a corner, fighting out way out; my character, and J’s, trying to shout that, no, we’re not the droids you’re looking for. only S’s character, who is a rogue, and sort of a shifty fellow at that, starts offing the guys who are just knocked out (because they tripped on the broken down door) or paralyzed (hold person spell).

and I kinda freak out, partially in character, and partially not, and I’m not entirely sure why, and then later, I’m reading about Iraq and Afghanistan and Guantanamo Bay, and thinking with a sour stomach that maybe we are on the bad side of history this time. and I don’t like the idea of killing guys who are just doing what they think they ought to, at least not when we could be gracious and let them go and warn them that, yeah, we can kick their ass whenever, but we don’t want to, we just want to find this thing so the monk can get nifty powers. (even if it would be in character.)

which is by way of saying, if she’s reading this — and I’ll say it in person later — S., I’m sorry if I was a little snappish during the game, but this war shit is getting me down, and I’d just as soon go after a phase spider or a black pudding if it’s all the same to you.

[inspired partially by “Rage“]