Meet Whose Maker?

Meet Whose Maker?

By Roger Callibros

         Gary opened his eyes, looking around. He had gone to sleep in his bed, but that wasn’t where he had awoken. He was instead stretched out on a bed of clouds, suspended from the ground by what he could only imagine to be a Permanent Levitate.
         He got to his feet, and began exploring the room, almost unconsciously taking mental note of the characteristics of it: ten feet wide, ten feet long, made of hewn stone, with an unlocked, simple wooden door on the north wall. The pungent stench of mildew emanated from the wet dungeon walls. He searched the room, but found nothing of interest, so he proceeded forward.
         He entered a grandiose hall, immensely and exquisitely decorated. Looking around, Gary encountered a large being garbed in white robes. The figure smiled down at Gary.
         “Welcome, my son.”
         “Hey,” Gary replied, nonplussed. “What’s up?”
         “You have found eternal joy and happiness, my child. You will forever be in my Kingdom. You see, this is Heaven, where you will find peace and harmony are infused with anything your heart could desire. You have, in essence, won at life. Congratulations.”
         “Huh,” Gary remarked. “Cool.”
         “Are you not awestruck? I am The Lord. The creator of the universe. I made a world with billions of satisfied people.”
         “Just one?”
         “You don’t get to pull that shit with me, Gygax!” God boomed. “I knew you were going to get like this. You didn’t actually make the worlds, you just described them well.”
         “Really? Ask LARPers where they are in the middle of a session. Which do you think you’ll hear more often, ‘The Forgotten Realms’, or ‘Earth’?
         “Not only that,” He continued. “but because of my work, people were inspired to create things similar to my own. Have you ever played ‘World of Earth’? No. Because your work, while definitely revolutionary for its time, is dated. Dungeons and Dragons will live on.
         “What about Second Life?” God retorted, smug.
         “You mean the game where people can instantly create objects, buildings, and other items, by pointing at a spot and willing it there? Yeah, that sounds like Earth.”
         God stared at Gary for a moment. “Oh, yeah?” He finally responded. “Well, I made you. How about that, huh?”
         “And I thank you for that. But, you see… I got better.”
         “WHAT?” God thundered.
         “I mean, you’re still great and all, but you don’t understand min/maxing. You play to have fun, and that’s cool, but I play to be awesome.”
         “This is not D&D!” God yelled. “You cannot min/max in real life!”
         “Oh? Then how could I know your Strength score?”
         “You do not.”
         “Fifty-three.”
         “WHAT?” God thundered again. “HOW COULD YOU KNOW THAT?”
         “Six words: Quickened, Silent, Stilled Spell of Omniscience.”
         “Bullshit.” God said. “You can’t add all of those to one spell. Even I can’t do-“ It struck him then. “Wait… this sanctuary is under a zone of truth.”
         “Not that I couldn’t lie here if I wanted to, but yes, it is.”
         “Wow… that’s really cool. You don’t even have a spellbook.”
         “I created Mordenkainen. You think I need a spellbook?”
         “Hey, Gygax,” God began tentatively. “you want to go check out my dice collection? I have a fair, three-sided die, the likes of which you’ll never see on Earth.” He held out his hand, and in it appeared a physically indescribable figure. Gary stared in wonder.
         “Now that’s impressive.”

R.I.P. – Gary Gygax
(1938 – 2008)