My old school D&D home game last week continued its phenomenal streak of non-occurrence. Of seven invited players, all of whom had expressed what sounded like interest, two begged off with parental duties, one was out of town, one jammed out at the last minute, and two didn't even respond to my email. Actual players in attendance: one.
He brought pizza (a nice touch, but one that rather rubbed in the, er, exclusive nature of the gathering), rolled up a character, which killed perhaps fifteen minutes, and was on his way by seven thirty. A truly gung-ho DM would have whipped up a quickie solo session and got the dice rolling, but my enthusiasm had wilted. Maybe next time.
It wasn't the sort of old school experience I'd been after, but I must admit it was historically accurate. Countless times did Young Ned make do with a single precious player and an unwieldy party of NPCs, or sit alone committing to graph paper yet another lonely dungeon that would never see play. The social stigma attached to the game was bad enough without having to face the fact that you didn't even have enough uncool friends to play it.
