It was in 1978 that I discovered role playing games, specifically Dungeons and Dragons (White Box) and Melee/Wizard. But it wasn’t until the following year that I actually played face to face with another human being. There were two guys I played with quite a bit early on, John (who may or may not want his last name here) and Dennis Brown.
Dennis always had a big smile. He got picked on by the other Black kids pretty often, and I didn’t realize until a year or two later that it was because he was gay. I just thought he was an outcast geek like me. But when we played D&D, none of that stuff mattered, anyway.
He was a thoughtful DM, one who gave you plenty of rope with your characters until it suddenly tightened from all of the decisions you had made. He killed my earliest favorite D&D character, a ranger with a legitimately-rolled 18/78 Strength. A giant toad swallowed him. He had a vaguely-developed campaign world, but since I was usually the DM he didn’t put too much into it. As a player he liked to challenge the fantasy tropes I took for granted in putting my world together. He made me a lot better DM and gamer overall, as he forced me to think and justify people and history.
Dennis was a year older than me, and left Lindsay Jr. High a year before I did. He went on to Bethel High School, and a year later I went to Hampton High. We didn’t see much of each other during those high school years, as transportation was an issue. I remember going by the apartment he lived in with his mom and playing one afternoon. He had that Hildebrand poster with the unicorn standing above a reclining woman, the glorious sky behind them, tacked up on one wall.
During my college years, we drifted apart. I didn’t game much in those summers, though I was in a pretty intense Champions campaign back at Emory & Henry during the fall, winter, and spring. I don’t think it was until a year or so after I graduated that Dennis called me up out of the blue. We got together quite a few times the next couple of years, sometimes playing a casual D&D campaign where I DM’ed, but mostly just hanging out over a few beers, laughing about older days and our views on life.
Dennis was struggling at making a living. He moved a half-dozen times or so, from one apartment to the next, living with a variety of roommates. But he was always positive, always flashing a big smile. I hung out with him and some of his gay friends a few times, and thought he was in a good place with people who cared about him.
But he moved out to California, in 1992 or 1993. It is strange, but I don’t remember how I found out. He might have told me was leaving, or I might have heard from a mutual friend before or after he was gone. To this day, I don’t know why he left. I never got a chance to talk with him after he moved out there, so I have no idea where he ended up.
It was at the end of 1993 or in 1994 that I saw his obituary in our local paper. I was stunned. But the grainy picture was clearly him, and the description left no doubt. There was no cause of death listed. Come to think of it, maybe that obituary is where I found out that he had moved out west.
I thought of his mother, but I did not really know her at all, and there was no contact information. There was just an address to make donations. It was an AIDS research hospital or clinic. Maybe that’s how he died; I’ll never know.
I have thought of you as the years stretch on, Dennis. You were a good friend, and I wish I had been a better one to you. You taught me a lot about role playing, but more importantly opened my eyes and mind to many things in life.
Not sure if anyone else still remembers you or misses you. But on this gray morning nearly 30 years after last talking with you, I sure do.
