Now, Dungeons and Dragons, if we recall
Tends, temporally, to somewhat fall
Between some Darkish and some Middle Ages
(With some Renaissance to round out the pages.)
So we admit we don’t look wholly kindly
On this board (invented in 1890)
Suddenly finding itself on the shelving
In treasure-rooms of dungeon-delving.
Now, adventures both mythical and mystic
Need not be wholly realistic
And a nudge to a calendar’s no fatal thing
(Unless you’re counting that Mayan ring…)
But here’s why we think the creator’s a reacher:
It’s not an artifact. No, it’s a creature.
You can hit it with your sword or mace
And I’ll curse you with bad luck and disgrace.
(Some would pay extra for some parts of all those
but let’s cut that part out, lest the wrong tale grows.)
What’s next, D&D? A tap-dancing chair?
Arsenic with legs? Sentient air?
We get it: Endless variation
But worrisome, in my estimation…
Of Mimics we’ll give later thought,
And for now, think not that a healing draught
Looks much the same as a glass of gin
(And is worse at keeping your heart-pounds in.)
But a world where the living object thrives
Could coincide with humans having horrible lives
My kitchen table’s a table, I’m sure
And if it’s got teeth smiling at the floor…
…I don’t want to know. If half my gear
Can magically move, or think, or hear –
I hope they do it while I’m in drowse
Or I’ll burn them all, like in my vows.
What I’m saying is simply this:
If monsters give the Dungeon a miss,
They’ll change their ecosystem, bub,
And then you’ll find them in your pub.
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities, put on events, and make stories come into being. I also tweet a lot over @darklordjournal.
