I’ve spent more than 30 years “around
the gaming table,” a place that has ranged from the dining room
table at home and friends’ houses to game stores, public and school
libraries, and vast convention halls. Sometimes “gaming tables”
seemed cozy and focused, other times they got cramped, crowded, and
loud. I’ve experienced more gaming locations than I can recall, yet
both the good and the bad still stand out in my memory and serve as
fodder for some disparate – and hopefully amusing –
recollections.
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| A small, regional convention with gaming tables surrounded by vendor booths. |
I started gaming around our modest
dining room table, a space normally reserved for holiday meals and
guests which I slowly took over for hosting players of various kinds
of games. As my circle of gaming friends grew we migrated from one
player’s home to the next, usually around the kitchen table but
occasionally gathered on den couches or around a coffee table.
Weekend afternoons seemed best, but if we strayed into the
after-dinner hours the host’s parents often made a cameo appearance
at some point to ask us to “keep it down, we’re trying to sleep.”
The most hospitable home – the place where everyone went to hang
out, whether they were gaming, watching videos, or just spending time
together – possessed a seemingly endless supply of chips and soda,
had parents who didn’t intrude if we made some noise, and always
had a cushy sofa on which we were welcome to crash after game
sessions that ran into the wee hours of the morning. (This particular
household hosted the memorable New Year’s Eve gaming event about which I’ve reminisced before.) On several occasions friends tried
having extended gaming weekends, what some might consider
mini-conventions, at their house (or at several homes over the
weekend), and these varied based on the general hospitable nature of
the family. Understanding parents, comfortable gaming spaces, and
plenty of food seemed key factors in successful home gaming
environments, at least in my younger days.
I’ve played games in library spaces,
both public and academic. I was kicked out of my high school library
for nothing more than playing a game I designed that involved dice;
the British-born librarian felt that dice were inappropriate (a
cultural view I learned about later, from R. Talsorian’s Castle
Falkenstein game no less) and hence banished us. I later ran
sessions of my Creatures & Caverns game for friends in the
cafeteria during free periods. I spent a summer running weekly
Dungeons & Dragons games at my hometown public library,
butting heads with the two hard-core gamemasters who organized the
program because they didn’t feel I was playing the game the way
they felt was right. I had a horde of 10 kids all around 10
years old in a meeting room alcove off the main children’s section,
hardly ideal for getting very far in the adventures I designed for
the program. More recently I spent about a year volunteering at the
local public library’s monthly teen board gaming sessions in a
large programming room separate from the rest of the library lest we
disturb the sacred silence of those hallowed halls; I taught and
hosted Pirateer and Forbidden Island. Keeping the
potentially loud and boisterous gaming insulated from the rest of the
quiet library enables participants to enjoy themselves without
worrying that they’re distracting other patrons.
A good game store maintains some space,
permanent or temporary, for in-store gaming. Throughout my gaming
days I’ve seen a vast range of gaming spaces within stores, from
dingy back-rooms near the bathroom and corners hidden behind retail
shelves to large portions of the store devoted to tables for board,
card, and wargames. I’m grateful both my current Friendly Local
Game Stores (FLGS) have ample space for in-store gaming; the closest
has eight long, folding tables in four rows occupying the middle of
the retail space (with shelves of comics and games lining the walls),
and the farther one has half the store space dedicated to game
tables, including shelves for storing wargaming terrain and a back
room for select games (and a table suitable for roleplaying games
tucked away at the back of the retail space). I’ve participated in
games at the former – a few X-wing Miniatures Game
tournaments, the occasional Saturday night casual X-wing game,
some board game demos at International Tabletop Day – and while
things can get a little crowded and noisy, the environment remains
welcoming to gamers thanks to friendly players and hospitable staff.
Both stores have the adventure gaming business savvy to offer sodas
and snack foods for sale to cater to gamer’s appetites and give
them an opportunity to make at least a small purchase in gratitude
for providing a good gaming location.
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| Gaming in hotel suites sometimes adds an element of exclusivity...especially with special guests. |
Gaming conventions offer occasional
opportunities for exposure to new games and players as well as
reliable favorites with old friends. The convention size often
dictates the nature of the gaming space. Major conventions like
GenCon and Origins host games in a variety of spaces ranging from
hotel meeting rooms to vast exhibition halls. Smaller regional
conventions often rely on the event space – typically a hotel with
conference facilities – scheduling gaming in everything from
ballrooms and meeting rooms to hotel rooms with beds removed and
banquet tables and chairs crammed into the space. I’ve run games at
many conventions, including one in a cavernous and noisy hall at
GenCon back in Milwaukee, many in medium-sized meeting rooms and
ballrooms with 5-10 tables, and a few stuffed into the aforementioned
hotel rooms crammed with one or two banquet tables. I don’t always
like the latter; while they often afford privacy and quiet (as long
as there isn’t a second table jammed into the room), they remain so
well-removed from the main gaming halls the non-existent foot traffic
discourages both casual spectators and last-minute participants. I
appreciate the quiet, but it seems detached from the general
community feeling of smaller conventions. They remain perhaps the
best spaces – when not so crammed – for private games, such as
any of the Star Wars Roleplaying Game sessions I’ve run
where players bid in a charity auction for seats at the table with a
famous author guest like Timothy Zahn. At cons I generally prefer
gaming spaces closer to other programming activities, whether a large
ballroom with many tables or smaller meeting rooms with a handful of
tables. Perhaps the most unexpectedly pleasant convention game
experience came from player generosity; the game was originally
scheduled for a meeting room with several other active tables (with
groups that promised to get loud and rowdy), but two of the
participants had booked a hotel suite and – with the consent of the
rest of the players and a note left at the table – we gladly
adjourned to the suite’s dining room table for an intense game
fueled by the hosts’ stash of snack foods and beverages.
Where do we play games? The answer
often depends on one’s particular type of game, personal resources,
and general opportunities. Most broad location categories themselves
can range between ideal and intolerable, though lucky gamers find or
create gaming situations that work best for them. What makes ideal
location conditions for games? Do certain spaces lend themselves
better to different games? What kinds of compromises in environment
do we make to engage with others in gaming? Despite noise, crowds,
and other distractions, gamers can make the best of their situations
to focus on their hobby and ensure their own play experience remains
positive. The times when I felt the game location seemed disruptive
were the times when I allowed those issues to impact my own
experience. A positive attitude combined with others helping to
improve problematic gaming spaces goes a long way to providing
everyone with a better play experience.
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