Dagger +2 (Not exactly as illustrated)

Any magic light thrown or heavy thrown weapon, from the lowly +1 shuriken to a +6 perfect hunter's spear, automatically returns to its wielder's hand after a ranged attack with the weapon is resolved.

Catching a returning  thrown weapon is a free action; if you do not wish (or are unable) to catch the weapon, it falls at your feet in your space.

-- Dungeons and Dragons Player's Handbook (4e)

This gem was pointed out in-game during my last session with the Saturday Players. As a bunch of old-timers, our reactions ranged from incredulous laughter to audible rolling of eyes.

Has it really come to this?

Don't get me wrong. I'm playing and enjoying 4E, but Wizards of the Coast seems to have redesigned the game with customer service in mind. Not only does the player/client expect to win, but he doesn't want any inconvenience en route to glory.

Hence we now heal wounds by taking the equivalent of a smoke break, or in the case of truly horrendous injuries, a longish nap. Was it tedious waiting for days to regain hit points in older editions? Of course, but it also anchored the adventure in something approaching reality. You overcame adversity and thus became a hero, rather than showing up pre-fab heroic and collecting your expected treasure from accommodating mooks who thank you for choosing to loot their dungeon today and use their dying action to give you a nice foot rub.

So now, thanks to new standard features on today's magic items (which are distributed like friggin' coupons) you don't even have to pick up your shit after you throw it. As ridiculous as the rule seems, it also happened to benefit my Rogue, so I shamelessly took advantage. I am, after all, a gamer.

Zero Hit Points: Brandon Crisp (1993-2008)

A year ago today, hunters found the body of 15-year-old Brandon Crisp near Barrie. He’d been missing since Thanksgiving, when he’d fought with his parents about video games and left home. He was found at the base of a tree and had suffered injuries consistent with a fall.

I didn’t know this kid, but despite growing up 20 years and hundreds of clicks apart, and not, I felt a shock of comradeship when I read about him.

According to his parents, he was a game addict. His poison was Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare. The media, notably the CBC's Fifth Estate, trotted out the usual parade of child psychologists to offer up the same scaremongering reefer madness bullshit about video games that they have through the ages about heavy metal, D&D and the fucking hula hoop, for all I know.

That's the version of the story we're left with. Brandon doesn't get to tell his side of the story. Was he really addicted to his game, or just passionate?

His parents say he was up all night playing, they could hear him talking to the other players, his friends. His father recalled ripping the plug out of the wall to make him stop playing. He had visions of going pro, playing tournaments for cash and prizes, and there are indications he was good enough. Did Brandon have no control over his gaming, or were the Crisps just freaked out that they had no control over him?

They also said he'd started skipping school to play. In later interviews, it turned out he'd skipped school just once, and that had precipitated the confrontation with his parents. They took away his Xbox, he found where they were hiding it and took it back. That's when they told him they were taking it away forever. No negotiation, just punishment. We say so.

I’m kind of afraid the Crisps will somwhow read this and be hurt. That is not my intent. I don’t blame them, but I think they fucked up, overreacted. Parents do it every day, and usually nothing even remotely this bad happens.

They told a competitive, strong-willed kid “my way or the highway,” and he headed for the highway. He overracted, too.

But I see no obvious self-examination on their part. In interviews, the Crisps say if anything they wish they’d deprived him of the game he loved sooner, more harshly.

In his memory, they have set up a fund, the Brandon Crisp Foundation of Hope, to help poor kids play…hockey, which he'd played when he was younger. As the ever-reliable Fifth Estate put it “a foundation to help kids who want to play sports. Real sports.”

Because some obsessions are more acceptable than others. Hockey's what normal, healthy kids obsess over, not those weird games or music parents don't understand.

Maybe Brandon would have wanted it this way, maybe not. Nobody can ask him.