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As gamers, we look for memorable moments...stories we can tell weeks, months, even years later. Fantastic exploits. A series of events and battles that we prop up as an example of what we want.

Search your feelings, you know it to be true. One thing I loved about the independent production "Dorkness Rising" was that it brought this to the forefront. The party was anything but incredibly combat efficient. They quarrelled, they stumbled. But they had fun doing it...

Plus, I'm partial to Bards, and the line "Hide behind the pile of dead bards!" made me laugh for two minutes.

Now, back to the point.

In the eight years I've been doing D&D, I have accrued a library of memorable moments. Memorable moments happen.

Games you remember, campaigns you always want to go back to however? Those

It should be listed as part of the job description when we play adventurers:

"Must be able to strut your stuff."

Adventurers are, at their centers, larger than life individuals in whatever campaign they play in. Most of the world's citizenry, even in fictional settings, manage mundane existences. They run shops. They operate schools. They fulfilll general societal needs...like running taverns, lighting lanterns, farming, and even cleaning out poo buckets.

But ADVENTURERS! Oh ho ho...adventurers are individuals who have thrown off the shackles of normal society and live aberrant lifestyles. Racing off and performing daring rescues! Saving towns! Fighting monsters! Charging into the wilderness and facing unknown dangers! Money for them is easy come and easy go; as soon as they make

We adore our villains. Evil as they may be, we love to hate them. More importantly, we love going up against them. Why, it's part and partial of the player mentality! We love a good challenge, after all, and a big bad who makes the world tremble in their wake can make a very good one.

Examples abound in the common thought market. Darth Vader (IV and V) is a shining example, for his ominous appearance, unstoppable power, and outright confidence. There's Professor Moriarty, the original Genius Brain and Mad Scientist, who did battle with his own nemesis in the sphere of thought and riddles. The Joker, who for all his madness, only ever wanted to get a laugh out of Batman. And of course, the more sinister ones from horror movies. (If you haven't caught on yet, I'm not a big horror movie

If you play enough D&D, it is likely that something good will happen: Given enough time and enough games, you will find a group of people that you trust while gaming implicitly.

It's a condition that's hard-won, finding a cadre you'd raise your spurs with any day of the week. To get there, you'll usually have to run a gamut of less desirable gaming associates first: The self-serving looters, the personal agenda hounds, the spotlight hoggers, the "I only play evil characters" guys, and perhaps most damaging of all...The ruthless DMs.

Most of those terms should be self-evident, but in short:

1) Self-Serving Looters- Grab all the swag for themselves and refuse to share.

2) Personal Agenda Hounds- Pursue their own personal motivations at the expense of the other PCs (Sometimes selling them

We all have an innate drive to achieve that elusive supreme victory, the ultimate success. It's a defining characteristic of the powergamers and min-maxers: "I'm going to make the most buffed up person EVER!"

For some, that means building a character with defenses and hit point values so high that nothing seems to be able to stop them. For others, it means making a heavy hitter whose attack bonus is ridiculously huge, ensuring a successful attack every time. For the skill monkeys out there, it means stacking racial bonuses, class trainings, stat ups, and background choices so that you have the stealthiest, or smartest, or most magically minded character in your group, with the skill check bonus to match.

For my part, that meant making a bard whose emphasis on diplomacy was the stuff