Oh, the horror!
Most of you who lived through the 80's probably remember a bit of particularly shrill, loonwankish ninnyhammery to do with Dungeons and Dragons. The mere mention of the game sent some otherwise rational (and many rationally.... otherwise) religious folk into an ironically demonic-aspected conniption of rage, hyperbolic rhetoric, and characteristically, nigh-comically flawed reasoning. D&D was the tool of Ye Divill, whose grand plan evidently revolved around rolling dice, drinking caffeinated beverages, and discussing the effects of +3 arrows on gazebos through a mouthful of potato chips. (The most Eeevil of all salty snacks!)
This came to be known as the '80's D&D Moral Panic,' and it was bullshit for many reasons. Let's explore some.
1. It's factually inaccurate.
Many of the early incidents that were erroneously linked to fantasy gaming involved troubled kids- the tragic cases of James Dallas Eggbert III and Irving Lee Pulling are some of the best-known examples. They share the unfortunate link of both having committed suicide. They also both played Dungeons and Dragons. The other link they share is that neither of their deaths had anything to do with fantasy gaming. Both had psychological problems and other issues long before they rolled their first twenty-sided die.
Suicide is an awful thing. It nearly always leaves those left behind reeling- consumed with grief, confused, angry- and it's only natural, at a certain point in the process of recovering from any tragedy, to attempt to come to terms by answering the lingering question of 'why.' It's also a natural response to attempt to externalize blame- the thought of being responsible for someone's suicide is not an attractive one, and many people unconsciously seek a scapegoat in order to assuage their latent guilt.
"It's that devil music!"
"It's the school!"
"It's those violent video games!"
"Urban culture!"
We've all heard these excuses and more bandied about after some young person (or people) has done something nearly incomprehensibly awful. Whatever bogeyman the commentator seems to have a beef with is trotted out as the obvious cause. To quote the brilliant creators of South Park in their Oscar nominated song, "Blame Canada..."
"We must blame them and cause a fuss
Before somebody thinks of blaming us!"
2. It's shamelessly opportunistic.
There's nothing quite like using others' grief and misery to promote your hysterical ideology. The fact that their minds may be too befuddled to engage in any kind of critical thinking is good news for anyone trying to push irrational conclusions. It's also pretty much one of the douchiest, most manipulative and possibly sociopathic tricks you could possibly pull. Way to go.
3. It's terribly weak logic.
In order to arrive at the conclusions espoused by the panic-mongers, one has to make several fairly acrobatic logical leaps- ones that likely have poor Socrates doing barrel rolls in his grave. Here are a few of the logical errors I've noticed.
Post Hoc, Ergo Propter Hoc. Since it happened after they played D&D, it must have something to do with it.
Why it's wrong: It assumes a causative link where even a basic correlation hasn't been proven. It's akin to saying "I drank a glass of water, then stubbed my toe. Water leads to foot pain."
Begging the question. Of course fantasy games make kids go crazy. I know because of all the kids that have gone crazy because of D&D!
Why it's wrong: It depends on unproven premises, which one must assume to be true in order for the conclusion to be valid. What proof was there that D&D could cause or even worsen psychological problems?
And speaking of assumptions...
Occam's Razor. Assumptions undermine arguments. Wacky assumptions do so even more. The more numerous and wild the assumptions, the less likely an explanation is to be true.
Why it's wrong: What makes more sense? A kid had psychological problems and made a terrible, drastic decision- or his principal put a curse on him? Someone who needed help, seeing no other way out, took things into their own hands- or a dice-and-paper game caused evil spirits to take hold of them?
Does the sun's light get periodically blocked from reflecting off the moon by the closest celestial object, creating the lunar cycle- or is it a wheel of cheese that is slowly eaten every month by a dragon, only to reappear again?
These are a few I've spotted. Can you find any more?
4. It's hypocritical.
Imagine a book that taught kids about demons, witchcraft, pagan gods, idols, heroes with magical powers, murder most foul... Imagine this book had lurid tales of adultery, incest, drunken shenanigans, and explicit descriptions of amorous acts. Its pages are populated with fantastical beasts- dragons, unicorns, even talking animals. It tells tales of great and bloody battles, sieges, ransacking of entire cities, all portrayed in a positive- even heroic- light. Wielders of divine forces cure wounds and diseases, sorcerers and soothsayers create dazzling magical effects and predict the future. Daring deeds, dastardly villains, deadly foes with horrendous supernatural abilities. High adventure!
"Hoo, boy. Better keep that out of the hands of impressionable kids," right, largely Evangelical Christian D&D alarmists? After all, reading stuff like that could really mess up someone's ability to discern fantasy from reality.
Well, congratulations- we agree on something. There's just one problem. I've just described the Bible.
5. It gets things completely backwards.
I can't overstate this. There are many stereotypes of gamers. Not all are favorable, none are universally applicable, and most of them unfairly stigmatize a group of people who, in my experience, are generally pretty awesome. Sure, we've got our bad eggs like any other group, but by and large I find gamers to be easygoing team players (why else play a group cooperative game?) who are very accepting of others' faults and foibles. It makes for a diverse and interesting experience.
This kind of accepting and non-judgemental environment is a welcome change for people with certain kinds of social and psychological problems. Stories like this one are fairly common, and many psychological professionals recommend tabletop fantasy games- the social interaction aspect can be helpful to some, while the simple opportunity to engage in a pleasurable fantasy can be just what others need. I've personally seen it give a boost to the depressed many, many times, and it's incredibly useful in cases of autism-spectrum disorders, most notably in developing 'Theory of Mind,'- essentially the ability to understand and differentiate mental states in the self and others.
Do not take this to say I think fantasy gaming is a miracle cure, or good for everyone, or has no drawbacks. Surely time spent rolling dice or flopping cards at a table should, optimally, be balanced out with time spent in the great outdoors, in more physical exercise, in social interaction not governed by rules, in quiet reflection-and, hopefully, in consuming foods not in the 'bags and cans' nutritional group.
There are definitely people for whom fantasy games aren't right, as well. This is another thing that Panic-ers get inside out and bass-ackwards- if any problem arises from a person with D&D, they assume the issue is with the game. Given the number of people who, despite being fantasy gamers, live otherwise normal lives (aside, perhaps, from being prone to using words like 'owlbear'), it seems exponentially more likely that the problem arises because the individual isn't a good match for the hobby.
6. It persists to this day.
Now, I realize we're dealing with people who aren't exactly known for their ability to adjust their understanding of reality based on new information, but seriously- every link anyone has tried to draw between fantasy gaming and mental illness has been thoroughly debunked. Yet people still believe it's true. This is partially due to books like Phil Phillips' Turmoil in the Toybox, a hysterical (in more than one sense of the world) and deranged rant about how toys, games, cartoons, and basically everything fun ever is being used to introduce children to the Occult. See my earlier point about the Bible. Also, check out the reviews on Amazon here. I can tell you from experience they're a much better read than the book.
Essentially, what charlatans like Mr. Phillips are doing is selling fear to the fear-prone. I can only imagine that he spends the money made selling this alarmist tome to replace all the bullet-ridden barrels he has accrued, and to keep them constantly stocked with new fish.
The end result of this is that kids- and adults!- are losing out on a lot of opportunities for education in things like math, teamwork, and vocabulary, unknowingly foregoing lessons in ethics, patience, awareness, organization and creativity, and just generally passing up an opportunity for a lot of harmless fun (After all, wizards don't tend to join gangs!) simply because of prejudice and
unwillingness to look into an issue beyond shrill, paranoid talking-point rhetoric.
I myself experienced some of the blowback from this kind of numbskullery over a decade after it had all supposedly blown over. Like several of my high school friends, I discovered a cool card game called Magic: The Gathering. The art was impressive, the concept was cool, and I quickly discovered that it was a heck of a lot of fun. Of course, one obstacle needed to be overcome- the cards cost money. So, I decided to make a small sacrifice for something I wanted (a good life lesson, if you ask me) and started skipping school lunch a few times a week and putting the savings toward packs of new cards. I soon had a rather crappy but functional deck built, and was glad to spend my lunch period summoning imaginary monsters and exchanging volleys of spells rather than grubbing on bland, government-issue aberrations that fit the loosest legal definition of 'food'.
Except on taco day. Because, come on, tacos.
However, when a certain family member (who shall remain unnamed) discovered my cards in my guitar case, things got pretty wacky in short order. After a (very short) search for information, this family member decided that since "You summon MONSTERS. You start out with twenty LIVES!" that meant it belonged in the murky category of things "of the devil." Our church's pastor was consulted, and to his credit, his response was quite non-hysterical... but it made no difference. Other members of my family were quickly recruited to the cause (despite being Magic players themselves) and our cards were confiscated and subsequently burned. To add insult to injury, the ringleader deliberately sought me out (I wasn't interested in watching my property burn, for some strange reason, and wasn't nearby to easily gloat at) and smugly asserted that it was, and I quote, "a holy flame." Needless to say, I felt quite betrayed, as well as bewildered as to why a card game afforded such a severe, Third-Reich overreaction.
To put it mildly, this incident didn't help my family life any.
So, obviously, I haven't forgotten this incident over the last two decades. I still play Magic- indeed I now have over thirty functioning decks, many with silly names like 'Meow Mix,' 'Waiting for the Wurms' 'The Green Machine' and the ever beloved "Spaddily Wadgets"- and I never actually quit. The other players in my school, horrified at the over-the-top shittiness of the card-burning, donated cards to get me playing again, in another testament to the extent to which gamers rock socks. This, as well, has not been forgotten!
So there you have it. Anti-gaming hysteria is bullshit. It's not based in any kind of reality, it hijacks people's better intentions, it makes zero sense, it's got its head jammed in a place where only proctologists dare to venture, it has real potential to harm relationships and put up walls between loved ones, and it's gone on far too damn long.
Except on taco day. Because, come on, tacos.
However, when a certain family member (who shall remain unnamed) discovered my cards in my guitar case, things got pretty wacky in short order. After a (very short) search for information, this family member decided that since "You summon MONSTERS. You start out with twenty LIVES!" that meant it belonged in the murky category of things "of the devil." Our church's pastor was consulted, and to his credit, his response was quite non-hysterical... but it made no difference. Other members of my family were quickly recruited to the cause (despite being Magic players themselves) and our cards were confiscated and subsequently burned. To add insult to injury, the ringleader deliberately sought me out (I wasn't interested in watching my property burn, for some strange reason, and wasn't nearby to easily gloat at) and smugly asserted that it was, and I quote, "a holy flame." Needless to say, I felt quite betrayed, as well as bewildered as to why a card game afforded such a severe, Third-Reich overreaction.
To put it mildly, this incident didn't help my family life any.
So, obviously, I haven't forgotten this incident over the last two decades. I still play Magic- indeed I now have over thirty functioning decks, many with silly names like 'Meow Mix,' 'Waiting for the Wurms' 'The Green Machine' and the ever beloved "Spaddily Wadgets"- and I never actually quit. The other players in my school, horrified at the over-the-top shittiness of the card-burning, donated cards to get me playing again, in another testament to the extent to which gamers rock socks. This, as well, has not been forgotten!
So there you have it. Anti-gaming hysteria is bullshit. It's not based in any kind of reality, it hijacks people's better intentions, it makes zero sense, it's got its head jammed in a place where only proctologists dare to venture, it has real potential to harm relationships and put up walls between loved ones, and it's gone on far too damn long.
Thanks for reading, and sorry about whingeing- now get out there and game!
Special thanks to Robert Bevan for writing this blog that inspired me, and to Twitter's @RPGadvocate for sharing it with me.
Special thanks to Robert Bevan for writing this blog that inspired me, and to Twitter's @RPGadvocate for sharing it with me.