In which 30-year-old Argothald questions are finally answered.
I want to tell a story about Argothald. It’s a geek story. It spans 35 years and two worlds, one real and one fictional. There’s no moral, no point, no great insight to be had. It’s merely a story I wish to share.
It’s also long enough that I want to split it into three parts.
It’s been a couple of years since I last posted about my fantasy role-playing game, Argothald. That game has been a part of my life for about 35 years, including a 20-year hiatus. If I’m to use this blog to document what’s important to me, I should check in on Argothald once in a while.
I’ve had a chance to run a couple of Argothald expeditions. It’s been great.
I’d been concerned that my skills as a gamesmaster would be rusty after more than two decades. I needn’t have worried. While there are some issues with the rules system, they’re relatively minor. What’s important is that the players have fun.
I’ve hit a snag. It’s a big one. I can’t find my old Argothald notebook.
For me, this is no small matter. This notebook contained some key game notes. It contained the maps of the main "dungeon" (Ironmaw Mountain), the nearby town, and other details that would be a big pain to recreate.
For years, I’ve kept all my gaming materials in a closet. In the two decades since I last ran Argothald, I occasionally pulled out that notebook and took a nostalgic look. Today I search the closet, but I can’t find the Argothald notebook.
There’s lots of other stuff. I have my complete notes for my other old campaigns: Star Wars, Paranoia, even Toon. I have lots of Argothald-related stuff: character sheets going back to the 1970s; notes on the geopolitical landscape of the planet Tala; the one Argothald "module" I wrote; old versions of the game rules; copies of the game newletter. Everything except that central notebook.
I can run the first Argothald adventure without that notebook. After that, it would get hard. The thought of losing that key notebook is nagging at me like a missing tooth. It was once a central part of my life. I’m irritated that I somehow let it go.
Perspective, Bill, perspective: It’s just a game. There are more important things in your life: health; friends; cats; the Craft; work. The notebook may be missing for a reason.
I think I’ll tear apart my closet again. Maybe the notebook fell into my Santa suit.