Too Much and Almost Enough at the Same Time

It took over a year, but I finally managed to finish Jon Peterson's Playing at the World: A History of Simulating Wars, People and Fantastic Adventures from Chess to Role-Playing Games. And like the title itself, the book is simultaneously fascinating and yet maybe a bit much for its own good.

This thing is an absolute door-stopper of a tome -- 698 pages, with copious amounts of both footnotes and bibliographies.  It is dense and academic, in both the best and worst senses of those words.  It is incredibly well researched and easily makes the case for its own existence, i.e., the history of role-playing is worth this type of academic treatment.  The story itself stretches back to highly specific parts of 18th century military history, 19th and 20th century literary history (not just fantasy writers), 19th century applied statistics and probability, and more expectedly the rise of sci-fi fandom in the 1960's and 70's.

And yet, by the end of this virtual Everest of a history, I still felt like I knew less about the two main creators of Dungeons and Dragons -- Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson -- than I would have liked.  Sure, the story is there -- the various basements in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin and Minneapolis, Minnesota  that birthed the hobby, the later falling out as the math- and business-minded Gary screwed the more wild-and-wooly creative genius Dave out of royalties -- but it also feels a bit more, well, academic than it should.  The personalities are there, but not brought to life as you'd hope in a history of role-playing itself.

What is of note is that Gygax was a devout Jehovah's Witness who was also a polymath of war, and specifically violence, who had a mind for charts and tables and rules, but Arneson was the guy who let you own and ride a dragon or swing a talking sword if you suggested it.  Their relationship was genuinely symbiotic for a while, but this account is more bloodless than I'd have liked.  (Interestingly, the idea of Gygax as proto-nerd also falls apart when you realize he was actually quite popular with the ladies throughout his younger and middle ages.  Dude liked to party, in fact, and had multiple affairs.) 

Also, it ends where it should more thoroughly culminate, with the rise of video games in the 80s and 90s.  (The MMORPG Ultima Online from 1997 is as late as we go, even though this book came out 2014.)  It's fine that Peterson didn't set out to chronicle the video game side of things, but also stunts some obvious momentum he has developed regarding the "gamification" of popular culture ca. 2020, and the future of virtual simulations using technology.

In short, it's easy to recommend this book to someone who needs to know why the Prussian Military put such a high emphasis on the importance of war-gaming, but later armies such as the Americans did not.  (Meanwhile, the British enjoyed stunning successes with it in winning The Battle of the Atlantic.)  But if you're looking for a more focused answer to the question of how these Midwestern misfits created one of the most popular and unique hobbies of all time, you'll have to do a lot of digging before getting to the proverbial treasure chest(s).

So while it's hard to believe an exceptionally academic work at 700 pages doesn't quite go far enough regarding the personalities of Gygax and company, and the implications for where role-playing might take us during the next 30 years, there you have it.  Essential in many ways, but maybe a bit less about Prussia and Germany in the 18th century and more about the weird geniuses that managed to create a game that has no ending -- that in fact completely resists the notion of an ending -- would have been appreciated.