D&D and demons
In a post by yours truly that mentions the rather crazy controversies surrounding Dungeons and Dragons Cool Papa Bell submitted this story:
True story. My friend’s mother once claimed that if you burned a D&D book, you could hear the demon inside the book screaming in pain.
“OK, Mom, tell you what,” my friend said. “I paid $20 of my lawnmower money for this here Dungeon Masters Guide. If you give me $20, you can burn this one, and then we can settle this stupid story once and for all.”
She looked at us. “Nahh, she said, “It’s not worth it.”
My friend leaped to his feet.
“Not worth it? NOT WORTH IT? Mom, it’s a battle for my IMMORTAL SOUL! My soul isn’t worth $20 to you?!?!?”
She never bothered us again. (#)
That comment got humanfont into the book burning spirit:
Back in the 1980s, I also heard the rumor that if you burned your DND stuff, you would hear the demon scream. Anyway flash forward to 2007 and I realized that I was never actually going to play basic DND again (3.5 year, maybe 1st edition ADND, but seriously no chance for basic, I moved to Adnd like a month after I got the 5 original boxed sets, clearly I’m not going back). So after a few days of haggling with folks over email from a Craigslist ad I posted to try to dump the things, I said screw it I’m going to see if this demon thing is real. I made a huge production out of it involving candles, chalk pentagram containment, standby bible and holy water. I figured why take a chance here. So I throw the boxes on the fire and what happens, well I’ll tell you. Frankly a box of paper burns pretty much like you’d expect it to, in fact it doesn’t burn particularly well and there is quite a bit of nasty smoke from the ink. I suspect who ever heard the demon screams probably inhaled a bit too much of the smoke and would probably hear the same voices sniffing paint thinner. I think the subject of inquiry may require more study. I strongly urge you to burn any dust gathering dnd tomes that you haven’t cracked in 10+ years and report your results in this thread. Also as a control experiment I recommend burning a copy of one of those unused college textbooks you never got around to selling back at the end of the semester. It will be equally painful when you consider the financial costs of what is going up in smoke. Through controlled experimentation we should be able to establish if all books are possessed, if any books in the sample population showed signs of demonic activity and or if there is anything distinctive about DND related text. Please be sure to indicate the specific texts burned as this is for science. (#)
Anyway, other people in the thread share their own stories about their parents and D&D. One of my favorites comes from Errant:
One sunny Saturday afternoon, sometime around 16 years old, I was at the deck table with my friends, pretending to be a vampire. I’d started playing pretty late in life, by geek standards, but I made up for it with unbridled enthusiasm and the application of a fairly-bridled weekly income. I had shelves and stacks of the stuff strewn about my room, much to the dismay of my right-leaning mother — well, not so much “right-leaning” as “hard to starboard, aye aye”. She’d graduated from conservative potboiler fiction like Sidney Sheldon and Tom Clancy to the advanced reality-based paranoia of FNN / CNBC most of the day and Rush Limbaugh’s bestsellers at night. Needless to say, my intimate working knowledge of secret undead societies that, to this very day, have shaped the whole of human history did not amuse her overmuch.
So anyway, there I was, enthusiastically describing the sound of canines tearing flesh, when my mother appeared at the door. “I need to talk to you,” she said. In recollection, I can hear the urgency in her voice; at the time, it was just another grievance to stack on the pile.
“Right now?” In my mind, that last syllable continues to inflect endlessly upward.
“Right now.” She was firm, and slightly drunk as was becoming customary. I sighed as loudly as possible. My friends had the good grace to examine the tablecloth intently as I threw my chair back and stomped out to meet my breathless mother. “What is it, I’m busy?”
She swallowed. “I don’t want you doing this anymore,” she said. “It’s dangerous.”
“What are you talking about?” I stammered, trying to ignore the fact that I had just reveled in bloody murder. “It’s a game, I’m just hanging out with my friends.”
“It’s dangerous,” she repeated. “I think… I think it’s satanic.”
I blinked. Her words hung in the air as we stared at each other.
“Mom,” I finally managed, “we’re Hindu. We don’t believe in Satan.”
She looked uncomfortable. “I know… but still.”
I remember that story every time this subject comes up, as an object lesson in which is more likely to obliterate a mind: roleplaying games, or right-wing propaganda.
If you want a few more stories about parents and D&D check out the thread itself.
