And I killed a giant badger.....

As a nerd I have a long history of nerd things that I remember and sometimes relate around bonfires, while drinking, or just to play the great American game "Who had it worse". One such tale has to do with my days playing Dungeons and Dragons.Dungeons and Dragons, the venerable grandfather of RPGs. Like a venerable grandfather DnD often got many things wrong, but you accepted it as a form of truth due to the source. And after all, at one time DnD was the only game in town. I began my personal role playing experience with gamebooks (or more properly by playing 'pretend' as a small child, for what is role-playing if not 'pretend' with a codified rules set and some dice) but eventually moved into the world of tabletop RPGs with the second edition of AD&D. I had seen the first edition rulebooks and perused them, imagining the fun that could be had in a world of monsters and knights, wizards and demons, and all manner of mythological beasties roaming about making life hard for the intrepid heroes of which I could be a part, but it was not until the launch of the second edition and my first "group" that I became a part of the great nerd tradition known as role-playing.Within a few years I had mastered the 2nd edition rules and knew how to manipulate a first level character for maximum survivability given the playing styles of my fellow groupmates and our DM. I was not a min/maxer per se, but I knew how to make the character creation rules work for me. I was not a true rules lawyer, but rather a rules paralegal.One time I decided to abandon my standard group, with whom I had become disenchanted, always thinking that somewhere out there was a group that "did it the right way", as though there was one true, pure way to role-play and I simply hadn't found the group yet. I had a friend that lived a few blocks away from me in my subdivision who, despite living in my school district, attended a different school entirely (a wise move on his parent's part, I might add). I had become acquainted with some of his school chums over time and was invited to join them in a regular Sunday AD&D game. I had heard great things about this group. In particular I had been told stories that made me think that this was THE group. That elusive group who "did it the right way", so different did they seem from my own group based upon the stories I had heard.Thus I resolved that I would join this Sunday afternoon game and ventured forth with my friend to his group's meeting place where I rolled up a character and settled in for what I thought would be an exciting afternoon of adventure.Whether you believe in evolution, intelligent design, G-d, or Brahmen, the simple fact is that at our core, we are animals. As such we are blessed with a primal sense when something is not right and our instinct is to flee from it and if cornered to fight for our own existence. You sometimes feel this primal urge when on a blind date. Shortly after meeting your date and setting out to the restaurant you get a niggling feeling at the back of your head, that is your reflexes priming to run; know that. After a little more time and conversation you begin to realize that this date is not going as you had hoped, or worse, that this person with whom you are spending the evening, as though some arranged marriage has taken place, is not only not "your type" but they are the antithesis of everything that is "your type" and they may be fatal to boot. Around that time you start to realize that the niggling feeling you had shortly after meeting this crazy waste of space was in fact your Spider-Sense tingling and you should have cut and run when you first got the warning. But now you are nothing but a trapped, cornered animal and it is time to fight.Tangential, but it sets the stage for what I am about to say. Shortly after arrival, while I was rolling up my character, I got that niggling Spidey-Sense tingling, but I ignored it.My friend, with whom I had come to this game session in the first place, a young man named Doug, was asking that the DM and players agree to advance the timeline of the game so that his gnome could have the components to build a flamethrower. He only needed it advanced by about 100 years. When I helpfully suggested that if he could not get everyone to agree (as he was having a hard time winning them over to the prospect) he could have just come to the past through a magical mishap, he guffawed and said that, "This isn't a Scott game". Scott was my usual DM and was known for time spanning adventures where you might meet Capt Picard and his crew along with Dinosaurs all in one night. Admittedly Doug had a point, but something about the way that he said it, perhaps his strange logic that in a world of dragons and magic time travel COULD NOT happen, simply rubbed me the wrong way.What did I care? There was always one in every group. One guy who needed the whole thing shifted to suit his special character concept rather than creating a character that fit in with the world itself. And had that been the only problem I might have been happy with the group and contented with the whole adventure. In fact, myself and one other player were the only 'normal' characters in this too large group. One guy was a Drow outcast (because that Drizzt Do'urden fag was all the rage back then) and another guy was an Albino Drow outcast. Yay. I simply wanted to play a swashbuckler (2nd edition, Complete Fighter's Handbook, Swashbuckler Kit) and wanted to make use of the full advantages offered by the CFH. This I was denied. Yes, we can have a gnome that builds a flamethrower and TWO Drow outcasts (one an albino) but I can't use the alternate proficiency rules in the CFH. I was at least allowed to play a swashbuckler, so that's something. I was told that my swashbuckler would fit right in, as the adventure would be mostly urban. About 12 minutes into the game it became all woodlands. I may not be the smartest man in the world, but I do know that the word Urban carries with it NO connotations of woodland life.My next chime went off when I realized that the DM was also playing a character. A PC character, not an NPC. Obviously he was playing the NPCs, just not very well. I was familiar with the concept of the "pet NPC". Briefly, a pet NPC is an NPC that the DM more or less plays as HIS character even though this is expressly forbidden by both the DM's guide and the concept of the game. Daniel, for twas the DM's name, was actually playing a character in the group. Not a pet NPC who he could at least pretend was not a PC and pay us lip service about impartiality, no no. This was a bloody PC being played by the DM. My Bastard-Sense was tingling to beat the band, but I persevered, after all, I came to play.After the awkward group intros and getting the party together and heading toward a common goal we found ourselves in the woods, which is of course the most Urbane of all places and fighting a giant badger. I don't even remember why we were fighting a giant badger. Did we muck about in his giant badger den? Did we accost a Giant Rat, a Giant Mole and a Giant Toad in a waistcoat? I don't recall. I think it was most likely the result of one of those Random Encounter Tables that lackwit DMs use to generate interest. I do not know if this particular Giant Badger had a rich Scottish brogue or not as we had no Druid and the only Ranger in the group seemed to gleefully join in with this badger bashing sport that had been thrown into our laps by divine providence (or a bad die roll, you be the judge).A note about me and RPGs. I have always felt that the R in RPG means Role. Most of my gaming acquaintances seemed to think it meant Roll, as in dice. Thus I have always striven to pick weapons, armour, equipment and actions that reflect my "character concept" and I had rather hoped that this would be THE group. The one group that respected such dedication to the art form. (You know what would be brilliant? If James Lipton hosted a show entitled Inside the Gamer's Studio, and he interviewed gamers and asked them the kinds of questions he asks Dustin Hoffman and Al Pacino about their 'craft'.) Sadly, it was not. No points or respect for Role Playing. So I jumped in and started to abuse the poor omnivore with the lot. This badger had taken a beating, but he was still alive. He had 1 hit point. 1. ONE. One Sodding Hit Point was all he had when the DM's character finally, FINALLY, FINE-A-LEY, managed to score a hit.Obviously the badger died and we could rest easy knowing that Giant gardens of root vegetables across the land were now safe to grow in peace.We continued on for a bit and most of us got shot by wood elves. We didn't die, but took damage all the same. I think that was supposed to lead to the plot hook, but thankfully as we had lost much time early on rolling up characters, the time to end the Sunday session arrived. I had long since stopped paying attention and had started reading back issues of Dragon magazine.With the session at a close, it was time for Daniel to award experience. Ah, that most coveted of awards, you strive for every little bonus point you can get. Now it is common knowledge among all role players I had met up to that point that the DM's guide stated that in regard to experience it was to be divided evenly among the all party members that had made a contribution and thus could benefit from the experience, with extra awards given to those who demonstrated particular cleverness, merit, bought pizza, etc. Further, the DM's guide stated that taking part in the encounter included all manner of things, including guarding the rear against attack, the mage prepping spells for when the fighters get in a tight spot even if he doesn't cast them or just being there and doing something useful was worth your fair cut of the XP. Now you remember, of course, the Badger. Ach, we all took a swing at that badger, I personally took off about 6 of his hit points by bashing him with the hilt of my rapier. One of the Drow twins managed to do a substantial amount of damage, whittling that stripey Scottish bastard down to one hit point when Daniel's character finally managed to land a hit, taking off the last Hit Point.So as the squeaky voiced little twat is laying out the experience awards to the party, detailing what they did to earn them, he finishes up by saying, "And I killed a badger, so I get 130 XP."Pardon me?Pardon the hell out of me. HE KILLED THE BADGER? What was I doing all that time when I was actually hitting it and doing damage instead of wiffing past it with my faggoty Dwarven battle axe?So the Sunday session ended and I received bupkiss.
Zero.
Zilch.
No XP.
No gold.
Not even a howzyurfather.
Sweet Fuck All.
I could have handled that lack of reward if only he hadn't spoken those ill-conceived words...."I killed a badger..."That was too much. The proverbial straw, if you will. I never went back for another session. I also informed Doug that although I valued his friendship, I felt that his group was, if anything, worse than my own when it came to rules and character abuse. It was a bit strong and I admit not entirely true; my steady group abused the character concept and the rules in different but equal ways. I chose to return to my own team. Sure they were bastards and tended to piss me off, but as me father always says, "Better pissed off than pissed on."