The story you are about to hear is true; only the names have been changed to protect the nerdy.

It was early in the fall of 2010 and I was busily crafting encounters for our upcoming Cabin Trip. I sat on the couch with books, notes, and maps laid all around sowing a virtual field of campaign planning just waiting for the harvest. As I took (near-maniacal) pleasure in the challenging story that would eventually embroil our party, my soon-to-be wife swept into the room.

"What are you doing?" she asked, glancing at the piles of role-playing materials that had overtaken our furniture. "I'm writing the new adventure for our Cabin Trip!" I answered. I went on to explain the (at least) annual tradition of hiding ourselves away from daily life for a weekend, usually at a rustic cabin, with only role-playing, eating, and drinking to keep us busy. Started while we were still in college, the Cabin Trip was now a chance to come together, catch up, and enjoy each others' company. Jobs, families, and the like had taken us in different directions (literally) so this gathering made up for some of that lost time.

While other events have provided some good quality meetings for our group of friends, the Cabin Trip has become an institution for most of us. For me, it's been the only time I've found to game anymore, and to catch up with friends that I always enjoy seeing. We just seem to pick up right where we left off- not necessarily in game terms, but certainly in the camaraderie that the Cabin Trip provides.

After I finished gushing about our plans, there was a slight pause. "So who else goes with you on these trips?" was her next question. I excitedly ran down the roster for our upcoming weekend, but she stopped me at a name that was familiar. "Chase? Is that the same Chase who's house we went to for the cookout this summer?" Earlier in the year, we had the chance to attend a non-game related evening with some of my Cabin Trip friends. A good time was had by all, and it was a nice change of scenery from the constant chaos we always seemed to be in the middle of. I told her that Chase and I, as well as his wife and some of the other folks that were there, had spent lots of time role-playing. In fact, that's how most of us met.

Her eyes kind of darted to one side as she sat down on a chair across from me. Her voice dropped a little as she said "Wow, I didn't know they were ‘gamers'. They seemed so normal to me..."

Now gaming is my only real hobby. It's my fun, creative, recreational outlet. It's given me some of the truest, fastest friends I know. And they are almost all gamers to a man. They have jobs and mortgages and new cars. Some have their own businesses, some volunteer for charitable causes, and some are (new or otherwise) parents. [Wait... make that almost ALL of them are parents.] So why is it that "gamer" is still a dirty word? My defense will adopt a two-pronged strategy.

Point Number One: The "gamer" stereotype is sooooo 1987.

To be fair, I'm one of those politically incorrect people who believes that if a stereotype exists it must have grown from some kernel of truth. I know I fall into a few broadly held beliefs about certain social demographics, and I've made my peace with that. But I for one believe that the members of the RPG community have gotten a bad rap.

I know enough to realize that the typecasting for "gamers" isn't an invention out of thin air. I'm sure every reader here knows some unwashed long-haired dice-chucker whose wardrobe consists solely of a black trench coat, combat boots, and GenCon t-shirts. Maybe they live in their parents' basement, maybe they own a few swords- Styrofoam or otherwise. Maybe they can have a frank and informed discussion about something other than gaming, maybe not.

But! As this blog tries to perpetuate, role-playing games and their intended audiences have grown and grown up quite a bit since their inception. Role-players today are focused in more equal proportion on Gaming, Narration, and Simulation. The demand that exists now is for more than just fantasy and escapism (which never made it into the GNS Theory but should have). As previous posts here at Intwischa have discussed, the mechanics, balance, and storytelling in games is pursued just as vigorously (if not more so) as any authentic attempt to recreate a medieval combat experience. It's even been a while since the extreme right-wingers have accused D&D of leading to devil-worship. I'm sure that has a lot to do with the appearance of Harry Potter, but I digress. None of this is to say that earlier editions and older players were inferior, maladjusted, or otherwise worse off than current incarnations. The demographic, however, has gone through a perceptible shift toward the center.

Current developments in the market have made role-playing more of a mainstream pursuit than it used to be, and with new editions and new products have come new and different and more diverse audiences. The notion that every gamer is one dice roll away from a berserk rampage against a school bus full of kindergarten students that they believe is truly a gold dragon who's eaten the children of the village is antiquated at best. (Besides, everyone knows that gold dragons have been extinct since Sean Connery slayed the last one while filming "Dragonheart" in 1996.)

Those who refer to themselves by the name on their character sheet even when shopping for groceries- are harder to find. Players who attempt to cast from even the lowest levels of their memorized spells while not at the game table are becoming an exception. And I can't remember the last time I built an altar in the sewers beneath my university to any gods- dark or otherwise. I mean, who has the time for THAT ritual, let alone the experience points cost?

While some stereotypes, including that of the role-playing enthusiast, may find some passing basis in truth the question remains: Is it possible to make the case that "gamer" and "nerd" were at one time synonymous, based on the empirical evidence and demographic research of some previous era? Perhaps. Today, however, that case has exceeded its statute of limitations.

Point Number Two: It takes one to know one.

Or "Those who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." Or "It's like the pot calling the kettle black." No matter the phrasing, everyone you know has their own little piece of fetish property. Whether it be their favorite hobby, a team affiliation, some particular band, or an entirely different pursuit everyone is a "nerd" about something. They may not be as visible or vocal with it as others, but dig deep enough and you'll discover that one thing they treasure, study, and just generally geek out for.

None of this is damning in the slightest- until they call you on the carpet as a "gamer." (See Point Number One.) Then, in my estimation it is open season on their raging Xbox addiction, annual American Idol marathon, Nascar-themed living room, or miniature Smurf collection. How someone who has a living shrine to the original Star Wars trilogy in their house can call me a "nerd" is a mental labyrinth worthy of the illegitimate love child of Theseus and Stephen Hawking.

Consider this: How many times have you heard a sports fan refer to their favorite team as "we"? When the hell did they get drafted? The same could be said for a co-worker's unnatural obsession with Johnny Depp's relationship status, because- you know- she has a real shot once he's single. Or the ongoing debate about who wrote Shakespeare's plays, or who was the best Robin, or why Kurt Cobain was the most brilliant, tortured artist ever to play a guitar left-handed. Once you stumble onto that tract of land that is their chosen field of expertise, you are in their house. Whether you want to be or not...

So why should role-playing games be any different? My detailed knowledge of our original campaign setting is just as honorable as recalling from memory every dance Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly ever performed in what movie with which partner, including how it was filmed and in how many takes. (I'm sorry, sweetheart- please don't leave.) Fantasy football draft? All it's missing is dice. Your complete DVD collection of "Friends"? More drama than every adventuring party I've ever made a character for. Put together. That feud with your sister over the Coach bag she borrowed but won't return? At least my Player's Handbook didn't cost me $300. From the outside of that glass house, the activities within may seem foreign, confusing, or downright weird. But nerdy? Brother, get in line. Don't forget, I can see into your house too. And that's a whole lot of Barbies for a grown man to possess- even if they are mint-in-box.

In summation, I beseech, implore, and downright beg of you, the reading public: Why can't we embrace that which makes us similar, instead of focusing on the things that separate us? Why must we fear what we don't understand, even if what we don't understand is an epic-level half-drow lich? Why can't all of us nerds just get along? After all, one person's dice are another's Beanie Babies. My hand-painted character mini is your Franklin Mint Elvis Presley Collector's Plate. And if I can make it through all of the director's cut extended versions of Peter Jackson's "Lord of the Rings" movies without falling asleep, you can learn to embrace the beauty and poetry of my Paladin's critical hit against the Dire Werewolf with his +2 Blessed greatsword. We're all part of one nerdy community, different branches on the same geeky family tree.

Except the LARP crowd. Those guys are freaks.

Ladies and gentlemen, the defense rests.

Do you believe that stereotypes exist (in part) because they're true? Do you belong to one of the groups potentially offended to a tremendous degree by this post? Are you now inspired to embrace the label of "gamer" and let your nerd flag fly? Can I get an "amen"? Leave a comment today!