There’s something about running games for complete strangers at conventions that morphs a seemingly mundane tabletop RPG session into an unpredictable and riveting experience worth writing stories about.
Last night, I dreamt of Gen Con. This happens to me 4-5 times a year, and though the details are usually different, there are some common threads. First, it’s always the second or third day of the con, and I haven’t done even close to everything I wanted to do. Second, something insane happens, and I’m no longer gaming, and usually my life is in danger. Sometimes, I’m a secret agent. Once, I was at a surfing academy, and my classes were conflicting with all the best seminars. In the most recent iteration of this dream, I found a holy lamppost that told me how to get a date in Victorian England and threatened to unmake reality, and I was really bummed that I was going to miss True Dungeon.