The Fellowship of the Game - How a Castle Broke D&D
“Heed my warning, and enjoy your home game.”
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The best thing about D&D is the friendships. The worst thing about D&D is not being able to play D&D all the time. So when I went to a castle for a holiday, to play a game for a few days, I thought nothing could go wrong.
And at first, it didn’t.
At D&D in a Castle, everything is taken care of. Every need is met. The friendships are baked in. There is all the D&D, and all the time to play it. The game is everything. Never in your wildest dreams would you think this amazing vacation could ruin the game. It wasn’t apparent to any of us at first.
There is a top-notch DM ready with a custom campaign, a group of fellow players ready to embark on a quest of a lifetime, no real-world distractions to take any of us away from the table. There are no scheduling conflicts. No one has to cancel last-minute due to unforeseen circumstances. And there was a constant supply of snacks. What could possibly be better?
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The only thing that could be better would be a literal castle to play in. An immersive environment that reflects the theme of the game, where you can live the slogan, “eat, sleep, roll dice.” And that’s exactly what I did. I ate. I slept. I rolled dice. In a castle.
It wasn’t until the third day that I started to suspect anything.
In our game, we had to work together to solve problems and overcome challenges. We had to communicate and cooperate, which broke down barriers between us. My table was becoming friends - maybe even something beyond friends. My DM was becoming more than a name-dropping opportunity. And that’s when it hit me. Who even were these people? How had they become my family, in a matter of days? And I had no idea if they had the same background as me, the same political views, beliefs, or even tastes.
And I didn’t care. I became so committed to the game, to my companions, to this dream-like experience that I started to forget about the outside world. Like a fey banquet, the Castle filled me with its spell, wrapped me in its mist of fantasy and fellowship. I had found my people. And it was all because of the game. The game had made us a unit, a community, an island lost to time and space. I was my truest self, in this land of make-believe.
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On the final day, as our campaign’s conclusion drew near, I was in a blissful distraction, with no warning of what was to come. I ought to have known, but I was in utter denial. I was completely unprepared. The campaign ended in a twist of events that nearly destroyed the world, and was saved only by the greater cunning of our collective party, and of course, an all-but-forgotten talisman from session zero.
We laughed until we cried, then cajoled ourselves away from the table, and down to the Library Bar. There we met our fellow heroes freshly released from their own campaigns. We regaled each other with tales from our adventures in preposterous Dwarven accents. The mirth flowed like a mythical fountain, and held us in its power until dawn.
And that’s when it happened - sunrise. The coming of the end. Our collective wakening was as broken glass underfoot. We would all, without exception, have to leave.
I returned to my room, to its four-poster bed and mullioned windows, where I had slept so little, yet so well. I dragged my limbs about the place, gathering my meagre belongings, trudged out of the door, and closed it, with a hard swallow, behind me. It was done. The cold light of day was everywhere. After a tearful breakfast, a bus took us away from the Castle, out of the mists and into the modern, human world, bereft of elves and amulets. And I was Edmund, dreaming of Turkish Delight, doomed to dissatisfaction until I could return to the Castle and to my home.
D&D in a Castle was meant to be a one-time event. I intended to go once, to have a holiday, and then to continue with my life, to carry on playing my weekly game of D&D. And so I have done. Our weekly campaign continues. I am the Dungeon Master. My players come most weeks, and we almost always get to play for the full two hours allotted. But all I think about is the Castle. How long until I can get back to it. D&D is not the same now that I have tasted the sweetness of how it can be. The Castle ruined D&D, and all holidays, forever. Because nothing can compare to it.
Heed my warning, and enjoy your home game. Do not aspire to the greatness of castles, to the joy of true friendship, and the delights of immersive fantasy. But if you do, come and find me, and I will welcome you to the fold, and condole with you on the loss of your innocence, and of all hope of a normal life.
Humbly,
A Player.
