DRAGONMEET REVIEWS. __________________________________

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CONTENTS

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1. DRAGONMEET 2022

2. DRAGONMEET 2023

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DRAGONMEET 2022

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I can distinctly remember when I was first introduced to the mysterious and ever evolving world of the role playing game, a revelation that, in being entertained through correspondence with the close proximity of my secondary school to the original branch of ‘Ian Livingstone’, ‘Steve Jackson’ and ‘John Peake’s’ popular retail outlet, ‘The Games Workshop’, immediately, served to re-define what it was that I then believed could be done with literary prose.

The realm of editorial possibility in fact seemed limitless with regards to such a matter. Each role playing book that I found occasion to read being constituted from a collage of separate parts that could be reached by way of deciding upon the outcome of either a dice roll or a multiple choice question, a pretext beneath which any one of a number of given adventures could hypothetically be undertaken as one became acquainted with the internal cartography of a given campaign.

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The year was 1984 and the title which hailed my baptism into the curious stream of supernatural invention signified by the role playing genre was ‘Deathtrap Dungeon’, the sixth instalment of the brilliant “Fighting Fantasy” series of gamebooks, which was observed to have begun in 1982 with the publication of the under-rated classic ‘The Warlock Of Firetop Mountain’, an instance in which I believe that I actually managed to catch ‘Ian Livingstone’ himself signing copies of the books as I investigated the troops of painted lead ‘citadel’ miniatures which had been neatly arranged for display purposes in the shop’s window and succeeded in acquiring an autographed book for what was later to become a small library devoted to role playing games upon my bookshelf.

If I recall correctly with regards to the matter, it was, in fact, ‘Ian McCraig’s’ incredible artwork which initially inspired me to persevere with my first exploration of ‘Death Trap Dungeon’, the book being crammed with carefully illustrated pen and ink drawings that loosely served to denotate where one was among the labyrinth of passages described within it’s pages.

Upon taking my interest in such things further throughout what remained of my adolescent years, I was soon made aware of ‘Gary Gygax’s’ open access role-playing game ‘Dungeons And Dragons’, a format which, in being divided into spoken campaigns that were observed to evolve in their own right above and beyond the pages of the literary format of the ‘ Fighting Fantasy’ books, was also notable for the high quality of it’s artwork.

In fact much of the draughtsmanship that I found occasion to appraise through association with such pursuits was first rate, the realm of possibility with regards to what could be described was almost limitless and the artists involved in such things seemed to become genuinely immersed in the act of interpreting whatever it was that could be imagined to occur within many of the campaigns then being published.

For some reason which presently eludes me, I then stopped actively participating in role playing games and have never played them since. It seemed that my life had moved on and, as tends to be the case throughout one’s teenage years, there appeared to be a plethora of other obligations to fulfil.

My passion for the sport had, in effect, lasted for no more than four years, although the fond memories that I subsequently found occasion to sustain with regards to the sheer fertility which had been invested in their scheme remained very much in evidence beneath such disregard.

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Recently I learned, through association with my habit of making constant reference to the internet that ‘Ian Livingstone’ had, through conjunction with 2022’s new years honours ceremonies, been knighted for his service to Britain’s gaming industry, an occurrence which, in immediately calling to mind all the memories that I had found occasion to sustain throughout my youth with regards to the topic, inexplicably caused me to reflect back upon both the ‘Fighting Fantasy’ series of books and the afternoons which I had once spent ambling around the Hammersmith branch of the ‘Games Workshop’.

I was, in fact, delighted to hear the news and thought that ‘Sir Ian’ had probably deserved the distinction which he had received, the amount of work which had been invested in the ‘Games Workshop’ since the company’s foundation in 1975 had been genuinely astonishing.

In finding occasion to perform a little research into the history of Hammersmith’s branch of the chain through association with the news, It was coincidentally drawn to my attention that the store’s original site along ‘Dalling Road’ was, upon being noted to have been occupied by a translation firm in the interim between my youth and the present, unfortunately due to be demolished in favour of a residential housing block, although from what I could deduce, there was, with regards to such a matter, still a branch of ‘Warhammer’ trading on the corner of ‘Goldhawk Road’ for those wishing to buy games.

It seemed, with respect to such an issue, that times had moved on for the ‘Games Workshop’ since I had last found occasion to visit it.

The retail chain was, with regards to such a matter, observed to have commenced business in Nottingham in 1975 as a manufacturer of wooden boards for traditional games such as chess and backgammon, a pretext beneath which it was noted to have been inspired to both design and make a limited selection of it’s own games through association with the import of ‘Gary Gygax’s’ first ‘’Dungeons and Dragons’ campaigns into Britain, before, having achieved a degree of success, branching out into both the desk top publishing and video game industries, a series of commercial decisions which, in placing the company at the forefront of matters pertaining to such affairs, ultimately granted it the ability to extend it’s premises, closing it’s older branches to pave the way for other things.

Replete with it’s curious alloy of cross genre affiliations, ‘The Games Workshop’ had, to my knowledge, in fact become one of the twentieth century’s great success stories by the early 1990’s, a post-modern melting pot of different ideas, adapting both films and comic strips into a multitude of different games and re-adapting them back again.

By 2017 the ‘Fighting Fantasy’ series had collectively sold more than eighteen million copies of it’s books worldwide and the ‘Warhammer’ board-game had been dramatized in film.

Through association with such popularity the firm had, by default, also developed a strong cult following which, as tends to be the case with regards to such matters, was inclined to stage a circuit of seminars, conventions and public events that, in being thematised by the common objective of playing Role Playing Games, was observed to evolve into a strong ‘on line’ gaming community with which people could assume persona or ‘avatars’ for themselves to engage in any one of a number of imaginary campaigns.

Foremost among these communal events were the ‘Dragonmeet’ conventions, a gauntlet of exhibitions that, in being alleged to have begun in the 1980’s through association with the‘Dungeons And Dragons’ role playing game, were recorded to have been disbanded for a period of time before being resurrected by the author and games expert ‘James Wallis’ at the turn of the second millennium, a premium beneath which the venues were effectively noted to have been regularly staged since that point in time through to the present.

Having, through association with my rekindled interest in role playing games, managed to remain in contact with a number of gamers on the internet over the past few years, I was recently delighted to learn that the 2022 ‘Dragonmeet’ convention was due to be staged at Hammersmith’s ‘Novotel International Centre’ along ‘Shortlands’ on Saturday the third of December, an occasion which, in including live gaming, fancy dress, the trade of hitherto unreleased board-games and a battery of seminars held by both the authors and artists of various games within it’s schedule of event, promised to provide an insight into how the state of grace currently enjoyed by Britain’s gaming fraternity is currently faring.

Deciding, upon the merit of my detail, to attend the show in efforts to re-familiarise my self with the curious world of role playing games, I promptly dropped all of my other engagements and caught a train from ‘Hounslow’ into ‘Hammersmith’, catching the bite of a particularly grey Winter morning as I briskly forged swathe across town towards the old stomping grounds of my youth and the ‘Novotel International Centre’ that lay upon their outskirts.

Arriving at my destination at approximately midday to observe that ‘Hammersmith’ Station had, in the interim between my adolescence and maturity, been transformed into a state of the art shopping precinct that, through association with seasonal festivity, was then decorated with a dense pelt of tinsel and fairy lights through which the music of ‘Bing Crosby’ was lugubriously playing, I made rapid headway towards the Hammersmith flyover where the ‘Novotel’ was situated and crossed into it’s vast hulk to attend the show.

Immediately noting that, owing to the convention’s size, I needed to buy a coloured wristband to enter the diverse array of gaming halls, seminar rooms and trade halls which constituted the show’s finer aspect, I stood for some minutes at the periphery of event watching the passage of people dressed as dwarves, Valkyries, devils and zombies through the building’s foyer before finally managing to gain access into the venue.

It seemed upon first impressions that the gaming fraternity replete with it’s masque of costumed courtiers was there in force, a multitude of tables being devoted to the staging of a games, many of which I had never heard of before, there were also over a hundred stalls distributed across three floors of the building trading in any one of a number of different ‘R.P.G.’ labels, alongside a plethora of other game oriented events.

I was, in fact, quite astonished by the sheer diversity of gaming material then on display, an instance in which ranges of polygonal dice, leather dice boosters, and fantasy artworks were being sold alongside an assortment of other specialist paraphernalia, the purpose of which I will probably never fully understand.

The first thing that caught my eye as I strolled casually around the hotel’s trade hall was that the quality of the draughtsmanship which had been invested in such things, was, in keeping with my recollections pertaining to the matter throughout my youth, incredibly high, the parade of fabulous artistry that was then perceived to be on display, meriting inclusion in any art gallery, the exhibition hall seemed to be alive with the writhe of furtive imagery and the glint of chrome, each game being an irresistible feast for the senses in efforts to seduce gamers towards an immersive interaction with their rule of play.

A few of the characters that had been described within such profusion were instantly recognisable to me, there was ‘Gandalf The Grey’ from ‘J.R.R. Tolkien’s’ Lord Of The Rings’ trilogy, ‘Cthulu’ from ‘H.P. Lovecraft’s’ collection of vignettes, ‘Judge Dredd’ from the sadly discontinued comic book series ‘2000 A.D.’, a variety of ‘Stormtroopers’ from the ‘Star Wars’ films, a pantheon of both ‘Marvel’ and ‘D.C.’ comic book heroes and even ‘Doctor Who’ fresh from either his (or her), most recent encounter with the ‘Daleks’, present amidst the Bric A Brac.

The list of generic cross-references seemed limitless and the notion that such things had been transformed into games immediately struck me with it’s novelty.

There was, amidst such abundance, also a few names that I had never heard of before, an instance in which titles like ‘Tartarus Gate’, ‘Kasasagi’ and ‘Chaosium’ struck me as being interesting when, in referring to themselves alone, they effectively appeared nowhere else on the cultural map.

After having spent a number of minutes appraising the vast selection of games on show I incidentally discovered that ‘Sir Ian Livingstone’ was going to make an appearance through association with both the release of his new ‘Fighting Fantasy’ book ‘Shadow Of The Giants’ and the publication of ‘Dice Men’, a text book describing the ‘Games Workshop’s’ rise to prominence.

Making my way forth towards the exhibition halls upper berth in efforts to purchase a signed copy of the two books in question, I duly came face to face with the author who was, in the event of the afternoon’s engagements, studiously sitting behind a desk laden with a wide selection of ‘Fighting Fantasy’ books which, from what I could immediately deduce, had, in the interim between my youth and maturity, been reprinted with both new colour coded generic covers and a different array of illustrations.

I must confess that I was quite excited when, through association with signing the copy of ‘Dice Men’ that I had circumstantially bought, ‘Sir Ian’ casually asked me for my name.

As a result of the encounter, I now have two more monogramed ‘Fighting Fantasy’ books to add to the collection which presently occupies my bookshelf, my sojourn among the backwaters of ‘Hammersmith’ had suddenly seemed to have been worth the effort.

Following the meeting I decided to descend to the hotel’s canteen in efforts to purchase a cup of coffee and read through the preliminary stages of the tomes in my hand, observing, as I did so that ‘Dice Men’ had been devoted to the memory of ‘Gary Gygax’ who sadly passed away in 2008, an instance in which it seemed that during it’s formative years, the gaming fraternity to which both ‘Gary Gygax’ and ‘Sir Ian Livingstone’ had belonged was, in being tight, inclined to notice absence from it’s fold, the two had been personal friends.

Hastily finishing my coffee, I turned to perform a further investigation of the trade hall, casually browsing through the many items on display, in efforts to acquaint myself with their novelty, a process through which, I was coincidentally invited by a gaming compere named ‘Sam’ to participate in a round of ‘Circular’, an as yet unreleased board game devised by a company called ‘Ruined Sky’.

Patiently taking a seat before commencing play, I was given a brief diagnostic of the various rules that applied to the game, which, from what I could deduce, effectively revolved upon the idea of transporting consignments of opaque coloured plastic cubes representing mining droids, around a series of rotating cards which were, in turn, orbiting the picture of a black hole.

Although appearing overly complicated upon immediate appraisal, the essence of the game seemed to rely upon the conversion of energy into mineral ores and vice versa as droids were correspondingly compelled to either employ the refineries housed aboard their ships or abandon the craft before jettisoning them into the black hole, an interesting idea which could perhaps, in retrospect, itself have profited from abandoning it’s pretext in favour of a definite rule of play.

It seemed, in such an instance, that like books, good games were essentially simple, ascribing to their own structural dynamic long before embarking upon any element of abstract metaphysic which might circumstantially appertain to their plot, a pretence beneath which, barring intensive preliminary training, I did not think that ‘Circular’ was likely to catch on.

Thanking ‘Sam’ for thoroughly confusing me, I deftly exchanged my seat with another of the game’s prospective buyers and continued to explore the exhibition hall, a pretence beneath which, after some minutes of cursory appraisal, I fell into conversation with the proprietors of a small stall selling games related books published beneath the ‘Aconyte’ label.

Observed, upon closer inspection, to be manned by none other than ‘James Wallis’, a long time game designer who, with the assistance of ‘Pro Fantasy Software’ had, in 2000 A.D. helped to facilitate in the revivification of the ‘Dragonmeet’ conventions, the ‘Aconyte’ stall was noted to be selling a diverse range of direct narratives featuring topics such as the terraforming of Mars and the exploits of Marvel Superheroes within their compass.

Learning by process of exchange that ‘James Wallis’ had, in 1998, taken pains to devise a role playing game honouring the exploits of the Georgian adventurer ‘Baron Munchausen’ which, like ‘Dungeons And Dragons’, was designed to be delivered by a group of gamers compelled to adopt different historic personages as they passed anecdotal rejoinders back and forth across the table of play, I recall being quite inspired by the notion that different time schemes could represent different narrative conventions, or indeed that the extent of a race’s cultural reference frame could forfeit such things within the space of a lifetime to the winds of change.

Bidding ‘James Wallis’ and his associates farewell, I proceeded gingerly through the exhibition hall for some minutes investigating the array of products that had hitherto eluded my attentions before incidentally happening upon a second book signing session which was being staged upon the hotel’s ground floor.

Taking an occasion to investigate the stall I was surprised to discover that the texts then being subjected to the mark of the quill were part of the ‘Lone Wolf’ saga penned by ‘Joe Dever’ another author who I could, upon reflection, distinctly remember from my youth.

Noted to have been both an accomplished musician and game designer whilst writing such tomes, ‘Joe Dever’ had, from what I could deduce, sadly passed away in 2016, a pretext beneath which the obligation of signing the work on show, had fallen to the series’ artist “Gary Chalk”, an engaging white bearded individual, who, upon deigning to converse freely with those awaiting his attentions, circumstantially appeared to be blessed with much of the native vigour invested in many of the role playing adventures then on display,.

Deciding in that instance, to buy a copy of “Rune War’ the 24th volume of the ‘Lone Wolf’ series, in efforts to re-acquaint myself with the exploits of the ‘Kai’ Lords that featured within it’s pages, I was lucky to acquire a third volume of signed work throughout the course of the afternoon,

Stepping out onto the hotel’s forecourt for a quick cigarette with the recently acquired copy of ‘Rune War’ in my hand , I circumstantially fell into conversation with an Antipodean man who, upon having been introduced to the gaming circuit whilst living in Australia, was observed to be interested in ‘The Lord Of The Rings’, a pretext beneath which I was incidentally called to remember that the film adaptation of ‘Tolkien’s’ books had, through association with fine lighting conditions, been shot in ‘New Zealand’ not far from his country of origin.

It seemed with regards to such an issue that fantasy role playing games were, far from being, a matter of circumstantial significance, as one would immediately presume, a phenomenon of truly global proportions, their influence stretching out to encompass even the most remote countries on earth.

Having finished my cigarette, I circumstantially found occasion to accompany the Australian man into one of the show’s seminar rooms for a brief talk which, in being hosted by a man named ‘Ken Boyter’, was to my delight, observed to be devoted to the tale of ‘Lone Wolf’s gradual evolution from a series of five game books in the early 1980’s through to it’s present status as a multi media enterprise.

Featuring a selection of commentaries that, upon being presented by a select body of writers and artists including ‘Joe Dever’s’ son ‘Ben Devere’, ‘Lone Wolf’ author ‘Vincent Lazzarri, and, none other than, the series’ artist ‘Gary Chalk’ whom I had met earlier, each of which were collectively observed to be continuing with ‘Joe Dever’s’ work, the seminar proceeded to chart the invention of the fictional world of ‘Magnamund’, a planet that, in being occupied by a caste of supernaturally gifted warrior monks known as the ‘Kai’, was witnessed to have become embroiled in a war against a contingent of exterminative demons named the ‘Darklords Of Helgedad’ in efforts to preserve what remained of their home.

Appearing, upon first impressions, to have resembled the dispute staged between the ‘Hobbits’ of ‘Hobbiton’ and ‘Sauron’ in ‘J.R.R. Tolkien’s’ epic fantasy ‘Lord Of The Rings’, the cycle of events described amidst the pages of the ‘Lone Wolf’ books were, in their entirety, perceived to be both far larger and more complex than ‘Tolkien’s’ initial foray into such matters, achieving a manner of internal fertility that, in many respects, succeeded in assuming a life of it’s own, a pretext beneath which the series’ vast scope was correspondingly noted to coincide with the clever editorial style for which game-books are renowned, to the effect of becoming a thoroughly engaging literary experience.

After having attended the seminar, I hastily bade the Australian man with whom I had sat throughout the duration of it’s course farewell and began to make my way home, incidentally noticing that the weather had decided to turn and would proceed to become colder as night set in, an observation which, upon serving to encourage swift passage back across town, incidentally caused me to wish that I brought a scarf.

Although only scheduled to occur for a day, thereby making the venue impossible to visit until it’s next instalment, the ‘Dragonmeet’ conventions are, in being recorded to appreciate increasing attendance figures each year, noted to be staged upon an annual basis, a pretext beneath which their curious realm of incident was, from what I understand, scheduled to re-appear at either the ‘Kensington Olympia’ or the ‘ExCel Centre’ by London’s ‘Royal Victoria Docks’ in 2023, and thenceforth wherever it may happen to arise within the London area…. Be prepared.

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DRAGONMEET 2023

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Last year, as the seasons inevitably drew in about the shortening hours of daylight which serve to typify the first weeks of December, calling an end to the freakishly belated weather pattern that England is presently experiencing, I was fortunate to receive an ‘E mail’ inviting me to attend 2022’s ‘Dragonmeet’ convention, a gauntlet of role playing game themed events that, through association with the proximity of ‘Christmas’ to it’s occurrence upon the seasonal calendar, was fated to appear annually within the conference halls of Hammersmith’s ‘Novotel’ hotel.

It had been a good afternoon, refreshing the stock pile of memories which I had, in having been a keen gamer throughout my youth, found occasion to reserve for such issues, a wisdom beneath which, upon vowing to venture return back towards ‘Hammersmith’ the following year in efforts to keep up to date with matters of a game oriented persuasion, I was compelled to write a short article describing the various elements that had gone into the show’s contrivance, including references to a small number of the games that it had chosen to place upon display.

Table top sport was, upon being of a largely clerical persuasion replete with it’s own catalogue of incidental legislature, in effect, not so dissimilar to writing, describing the parameters of stories which, in demanding collaborative attention to both explore and appraise, had yet to be told, and worlds that could be considered infinite for as long as they remained valid within a given rule of play.

In frequently proving to be overwhelming, the realm of opportunity which role playing games proved capable of describing was, in this sense, theoretically endless, existing apart from the self in streams and tributaries of limitless profusion, a diversity bounded only by the imaginative faculty of those who were playing them.

Such things were simply a question of refinement, there appeared, with regards to the issue of many role playing formats, truth in the maxim that every man, irrespective of his ethnic identity or vocational calling , may be blessed with the ability to tell a tale, an attribute which, if harnessed together at once beneath a common mantle, could effectively mount impetus and define libraries of new and unpredictable ideas.

Literature was, after all, an entirely neutral pretext. In conferring thought to page with script, the degree of intellectual abstraction which it permitted was, in persisting without boundaries, also virtually impotent. It seldom moved within the soul as more appreciable light media such as music and film may do, it was, at concept, far more obstinate and complex than such fare.

Parlour games were both it’s progeny and it’s accomplice, their interactive potential being almost limitless when applied to the written word, people could, through the practice of communal table top sport, theoretically live together in peace with each other beyond the volatility of more intemperate standards. There need be no hidden margins awaiting prosecution lurking beneath it’s wing, no peer anxiety rallying to lynch those that shirked it’s expectations. The pretext was fool proof…. ‘After all, what could go wrong ?’…

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The days of the following year proceeded forth at a laboriously slow pace, progressing through their cycle in a studiedly inconsequential manner, weeks imperceptibly lengthening into months like flotsam cast into a vacuum, an absence of event which, owing to the general character of my circumstance stranded upon the outskirts of London at the periphery of ‘Heathrow Airport’, I was effectively inclined to credit to my age.

However, perhaps inevitably, the first signs of winter slowly began to presume domain over the English countryside once again and, in accordance with the formalities which had ascribed to the previous year’s calendar, I received notification that another ’Dragonmeet’ convention was due to be staged.

Cursorily scanning the internet to check the various specifics that appertained to the event, I duly collected myself and made forth towards the show, catching a ‘Piccadilly’ line train into town and alighting amidst a crowd of mixed ethnic origin upon the platform of ‘Hammersmith’s’ underground station.

The first thing that I noticed upon ascending the steps into the neon lit plaza of the shopping precinct which then served to distinguish the station’s upper berth was that, as had been the case during my visit to ‘Dragonmeet’s’ previous instalment , Christmas decorations had been emplaced to signify the impending imminence of the year’s end.

‘Hammersmith’ was, when approached from the West, virtually the last stop on the ‘Piccadilly’ line to remain above ground level before the service’s track descended beneath the greater part of the city, a predicament which the mall built above it had correspondingly chosen to celebrate through association with it’s annual gauntlet of festivities, erecting a skeletal wire framed steam locomotive draped with a multitude of fairy lights upon it’s premises, a structure through which people were effectively perceived to pass freely on rout to the shops as I arrived.

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Casually strolling across the street which lay beyond the station towards the implacable loom of the ‘Novotel’ hotel, I was drawn to note that the air temperature, was, in keeping with the general demeanour of the season, intensely cool, a variety of cold which appeared to thin the smoke spun miasma that habitually circulates at ground level about the streets of outer London, granting it a curious transparency that froze like Fluoride in the lung.

Spurred into action by the chill, I promptly made my way towards the hotel and entered the convention’s reception area to be greeted by a team of attendants who were in the process of presenting people with green wristbands in exchange for an admission fee of fifteen pounds, a little on the expensive side with respect to the price of many of the games that people were presumably expected to buy within the building’s enclave, but one which I was nonetheless prepared to pay owing to the observation that the general sense of enthusiasm espoused by the gamers who then milled about the event’s foyer was fairly infectious.

With regards to such a matter, as had been the case during the convention’s previous incarnation in 2022, there were people dressed as ‘Vampires’, ‘Vikings’, ‘Devils’, ‘Goblins’ and ‘Yokels’ drawn from some largely forgotten agricultural past wandering between the stalls which had been erected upon the premises alongside people wearing a wide selection of fantasy themed tee shirts and jewellery. The atmosphere being one of rustic serendipity, the type of attitude which one may be drawn to associate with stadium rock. Long haired youths mingled with middle aged women, bespectacled scholars rubbed shoulders with blue haired punk rockers, young fathers wheeled push chairs up and down the venue’s aisles as their children wove incidental reconnaissance about the counters of trade.

Spread across three floors of the hotel, an upper and a lower trade hall which, in being connected by two escalators which were intercepted by a ‘Mezzanine’ gallery that was also posted with traders, the convention was, at first glance, observed to be a fairly sizeable concern vaunting enough ground space to accommodate over one hundred stalls alongside a profusion of gaming tables and two small cafeterias equipped discretely with their own seating arrangements.

The first thing which I noticed upon entering the conference hall was that there were, alongside games, a number of books being sold on the premises, anthologies drawn from the back log of ghost stories and fantastic tales which, in having proven popular during the Victorian era, had entered into contemporary culture as supernatural standards, the writings of ‘H.P. Lovecraft’ were in evidence among the stalls as were those of ‘Algernon Blackwood’, ‘Bram Stoker’ and ‘John Wyndham’.

It seemed that any topic of a marginally inexplicable persuasion had demanded adequate appropriation, a pretext beneath which many varieties of weird fiction had, upon having been refined for transcription with graphic art of the variety that is presently popular upon it’s own terms in both ‘America’ and ‘Japan’, ultimately been further re-assigned to provide the basis for any one of a number of board games.

Perhaps as a result of the literary theme which many of the games had chosen to adopt for themselves, most of the attendees who I found occasion to converse with during the course of the afternoon were, in fact, surprisingly well spoken, being both polite and considerate despite the bizarre character of their fancy dress regalia, an observation that, for some reason, struck me as being indicative of a common academic origin.

Like myself, many gamers appeared to have commenced their hobbies at school and retained much of the manner to which such a thing may be imagined to ascribe, there was a touch of the ‘Oxford’ manner stirred into the mix and conversation was passed forth in a pleasingly civilized way.

Having said this there was, alongside a number of ‘Scandinavians’ and ’Slavs’ within the hall, also a fairly strong contingent of ‘Americans’ in evidence upon the premises, an observation which, taking into consideration the recent box office release of a ‘Dungeons And Dragons’ film entitled ‘Honour Among Thieves’, in effect, stood to reason.

‘D&D’ had pretty much served to defined the role playing genre when it first hit the shelves in the 1970’s and ‘Luke Gygax’, the son of ‘Gary Gygax’, the game’s originator, was scheduled to make an appearance as the convention mounted pace.

Cursorily reading through the program relating to the event I learned that the author and co-founder of the ‘Games Workshop’, ‘Sir Ian Livingstone’ was, upon having been present at the ‘Dragonmeet’ convention which I attended the previous year, also due to be there, alongside a number of younger writers including the author of the ‘Inheritance’ novels, ‘A.K. Faulkner’ and the writer of the ‘Camelot 2050’ trilogy ‘David Cartwright’.

There were, in fact. scheduled to be a fair number of relatively well known game designers, map makers, artists and computer programmers milling among the throng as the event achieved momentum, many of whom, owing to my immediate unfamiliarity with such things were, in fact, unknown to me. The gaming industry had extended compass substantially into both the software market and desktop publishing trade since my youth, an evolution that, despite my interest in such things, I had effectively lost track of long ago.

Making my way slowly around the conference hall, I must confess that I did not, in this instance, find occasion to converse with any of the industry’s ’cause celebres’ throughout the course of the afternoon, although I did manage to fall into discussion with a number of the traders about the various attributes that served to distinguish their wares, an instance in which I learned that, upon being composed of many different components that effectively required a diverse range of skills to reproduce, each game was stitched together by teams which specialised in the manufacture of one or other of their constituent elements, a pretext beneath which professional script writers, type setters, map makers, mat printers and model sculptors were ostensibly drafted in to collaborate upon the specifications that applied to given formats before they were ready for sale, a vast and complicated agenda composed of many parts.

Glancing furtively around the upper conference hall, I noticed that many of the games which were then on display had been devised in homage to the science fiction and fantasy films that had served to distinguish the media environment of the latter twentieth century, the familiar iconography of both the ‘Star Trek’ and ‘Star Wars’ logos being clearly apparent among the stalls alongside references to ‘Alien’, ‘Blade Runner’, ‘The Dark Crystal’, ‘Dune’ and ‘Marvel Studios’.

Upon representing a relatively comprehensive cross section of the media with which I myself had been raised as a child, the number of film themed games on show at the convention was, in fact, quite overwhelming, everything of a marginally fantastic persuasion that may once have served to colour my youth being immediately present in a nominal form, ‘Count Dracula’, ‘Frankenstein’s Monster’ and the ‘Wolfman’ were there alongside a number of more ambiguous characters from the halcyon era of 1950’s American cinema, a pretext beneath which ‘Mario Puzo’s’ ‘Godfather’ was observed to take it’s place alongside ‘George Lucas’’ ‘Boba Fett’, ‘J.R.R. Tolkien’s’, ‘Smaug’, to jostle for attention with ‘Robert Bloch’s’, ‘Jaws’ and ‘2000 A.D’s’, ‘Judge Dredd’ to share shelf space with ‘Ray Harryhausen’s’, ‘King Kong’. Fantasy was indeed a popular genre, the realm of possibility to which it appertained was effectively endless.

There were, from what I could deduce in this instance, even a number of ‘Walt Disney’ and ‘Doctor Who’ themed board games on display within the hotel’s sanctum, the list of media collaborations immediately appearing as idiosyncratic as it was diverse, each aspect of it’s index demanding some form of appropriation in table top sport.

Video games were, with regards to such a matter, similarly observed to be worthy subjects for adaptation, much of the show’s output being based upon arcade themed entertainment, an instance in which many of the campaigns presented forth for display were also noted to have served as the inspiration for computer games, the boundary between the two commercial formats being a flexible margin, that appeared to withstand translation well.

Upon closer inspection I noticed that, among such fare, there was also a number of auxiliary fantasy themed items for sale upon the premises, a fairly alluring set of candles, bath bombs and soaps cast in the shape of the polyhedral dice which were conventionally employed to wager odds during role playing campaigns, being present among the stalls.

Through association with such trade I happened to notice a selection of rather fetching iridescently hued articulated wooden dragon models on sale alongside a cabinet of tusked mouth masks for maintaining a poker face whilst recanting the letter of various role playing scenarios, there was even a company selling a particularly pungent brand of aftershave which, in having been concocted to resemble the scent of a ‘Goblin’, managed to saturate the entire floor within which it’s stall was situated with the curious odour of burning plastic.

Glancing down at my program I discovered that the Bristol based jewellery firm ‘Kasasagi’ actually ran training programs for silver smiths wishing to create the type of fantasy art that was being exchanged at the convention, an instance in which it occurred to me that most of the craft material that was on display had, in fact, been hand made, a reliquary cast in much the same manner as that which had presumably once served to inspire it.

Although many of the games on show were based upon films, there were also references to elements of ‘Celtic’, ‘Greek’ , ‘Egyptian’ and ‘Chinese’ mythology bound into it’s fabric, the curiously sinuous contrivance of old world Irish jewellery, the enamelled heft of ‘Cantonese’ mandalas and the purism of ‘Nubian’ hieroglyphics being, through association with their controversial pretext, something of a staple within gaming circles.

People had surely died for dabbling in such things in the past, the assertion that they could, beneath the blessing of fantasy, presently confront them with impunity appeared strangely liberating.

It seemed, with regards to such a matter, that, alongside the metaphysical sleights to which cinema may be prone, all things of a marginally occult persuasion may demand some form of qualitative appraisal through the lens of table top sport, an instance in which the curiously protean figure of ‘H.P. Lovecraft’s’ aquatic demon ‘Cthulhu’ was, in it’s distinction, noted to have been a recurrent theme throughout the course of the afternoon’s proceedings, the author’s mythos effectively having come into it’s own through association with role playing games despite the observation that his original tale relating to the theme was comparatively short.

It had, in fact struck me in this instance, that the practice of adopting of fantastic persona to banish the augur of misgiving which pagan iconography could be imagined to entail, would, in corresponding with any species of half realised expectation that may be supposed of it and betokening real reprisal, also represent a suitable term beneath which to resuscitate the interests of it’s afflicted.

The ‘Hobbits’, ‘Little People’, ‘Elves’ and ‘Fairies’ whose identities adventurers seemed keen to assume, appearing, much like the ‘Dragonmeet’ conventions themselves, to be part of a seasonal calendar proffered forth to wager the thrill of their bluff against it’s antithesis.

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As a precursor to the seasonal festivities of Christmas, the ‘Dragonmeet’ convention was, with regards to the sheer profusion of fantasy themed merchandise which it was observed to purvey, immediately perceived to be something of a ‘Wunderkabinet’, a treasure trove of the mind, festooned with novelties and curios that, in being honed about a given rule of play, could, hypothetically absorb revellers in group activities throughout both the yule season and beyond into the virgin months of Spring.

Although many of the games upon display at the convention were, in being meticulously crafted noted to be fairly costly, a term beneath which one could easily expect to spend a hundred or more pounds as one meandered aimlessly between each stall in pursuit of inspiration, such things were observed on the whole to make ideal gifts for children, a matter of focal significance over the Christmas period.

I, myself, must confess, with regards to such a matter, that I was pleased with the heft of the two board games which I had bought for my nephew and niece as I made my way home that evening after having attended the event, hopefully they, themselves, will fall into the spirit of things and ultimately enjoy playing them.