Ethan Gilsdorf

epic quest for reality among role players, online gamers, and other dwellers of imaginary realms

Fantasy freaks and gaming geeks

Michael Springer

Where should I begin? 

At 4 or 5, finding that little "door" in my bedroom that I couldn't get open, and wondering what was behind it? Picturing lakes, dragons, probably characters from Rainbow Brite and He-Man, all hanging around together in a world of magic and peace?

At 9, too impatient to write actual stories, but drawing and coloring character after character, analyzing their personal attributes and naming each, and keeping them in a big binder? I had enough in there to make a comic book universe of my own, although it would be a derivative and lame universe. But, hey. I was 9. 

Or maybe at 11, when I first played a roleplaying game? Or 13, when I first designed one and blackmailed friends into playing? It took me years to realize it pisses characters off when you kill them completely at random; I started off a cruel and Old Testament sort of GM. 

Playing Magic: the Gathering for the first time at 12? My first attempt at a fantasy novel at 14? My first pseudo-finished gaming system at 16? 

I don't know where to start, but I know what might be the most poignant moment: at 23 or 24, after the roof of the cafeteria I worked at literally blew away in a tornado, and I was suddenly on unemployment, was still in school full-time and couldn't find a job. It was not a happy time, and a couple of my friends were going through similar situations. 

Anyway, we were in the unemployment line, which took hours to get through. And the whole time, we were talking animatedly about the RPG I was GMing at the time. My friends were asking about aspects of the world, discussing their characters, remembering moments from earlier games. . . it was a time in my life full of stress and uncertainty, and that game was my only complete escape from the rough reality I was living through. 

I would qualify as both a fantasy freak and a gaming geek, and I'm not exactly in the closet about it. So, Gilsdorf was preaching to the choir with me. . . but he wasn't doing anything as firm as preaching. This book is less a thorough analysis of the gamer/medieval geek mindset, and MORE an analysis of Gilsdorf and his struggle to move forward in his life. That is, his struggle to decide if the form of escapism he was involved in was healthy or unhealthy. In this search, he goes to conventions, games with gamers, interviews (and plays with) Warcraft players, attends reenactments, helps build a castle with only the tools of the middle ages, and gives at least a dozen handjobs to Tolkien. Seriously. Motherfucker goes to New Zealand so he can see the locations they filmed parts of the movie on, and in what was probably the uber-geek moment of the entire book, sets up his LoTR toys in the same spot the actors had been for one of the scenes and then took some pictures. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The book was quite entertaining, honestly, until the final couple chapters. Then, I got a headache from all the eye-rolling I was doing. Why was I eye-rolling? I'm glad you asked!

Each chapter tracks a certain geeky trend, and each chapter is interesting, other than they don't develop into a complex analysis of geekery, unless this counts: "Fantasizing like geeks do is fun, and it's not that much different from an obsession with professional sports or making model airplanes." So, if you want some weak-ass attempt to evade geek-related guilt, this is the book for you. Since I'm pretty comfortable in my own geeky skin, I didn't find this insight to be very, um, insightful.

Anyone who has taught an English course, and probably anyone who has taken one, has read one of those papers where the author wrote the whole thing and then realized it wasn't focused enough to write a conclusion that really wrapped things up. Oftentimes, the author just farts out some bullshit that they think sounds passable and turns it in, hoping the teacher doesn't notice. The teacher DOES notice, every time. Apparently, the publisher didn't. 

Then, he fails in what he seemed to be REALLY trying to do: show his personal evolution through this GeekQuest. Why does he fail in this? Because he doesn't become comfortable with his geekdom, nor does he decide to become a muggle. He . . . well, he doesn't really decide ANYTHING. The book just kind of whimpers out with a bunch of lame geek metaphors, and then dies and flops over on its back, twitching on your carpet. I get the feeling a deadline came up faster than Gilsdorf expected it to, and instead of getting an extension, he shat some inanities onto the page and shipped it out. 

That said, I realized after finishing the book that it ends with a glossary of geek terminology. I was simultaneously proud and concerned that I hadn't needed to reference the glossary at any point before then, and that I knew every term except for one. Hmm, perhaps I HAVEN'T reached a totally guilt-free state of geekiness. . .

Fantasy freaks and gaming geeks epic quest for reality among role players, online gamers, and other dwellers of imaginary realms

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