* * *
I pulled Liva into the game. And by extension, Zac.
Ever, Carter. And Maddy.
But our adventuring party started with the two of us. Ever and me, at lunch one day. Ever was a lowly freshman, and I a lowly sophomore, and we found each other because I sat in the cafeteria reading an RPG rule book, and they sat next to me. Zac passed us and scoffed, but I don’t think Ever noticed it. They told me they had an idea for a role-playing game they wanted to test; I told them I wanted to be a game dev, and it was as simple as that.
Well, there was more to it, of course. They made me laugh. They stared straight through me with those piercing green eyes. They weren’t awkward about my crutches. And they listened to me when I told them about my dreams for the future.
Even then, Ever was the type of person who listens so intently, they make you believe in yourself. And I wanted to believe in them.
The first time we met to play with the others, we all fell head over heels in friendship.
It was raining outside. It was a couple of weeks before winter break.
I hesitated in the doorway to the basement, where Ever was already setting up shop, but the others quickly followed. We stood around awkwardly. Two freshmen—Ever and Maddy—and four sophomores. Hands in pockets. Messing with our bags. In various stages of doubt and excitement. Not quite looking at one another, at least until Ever spoke up first.
“Welcome, adventurers.” They smiled. “I always wanted to say that. Welcome to our Rune and Lore club, or as Finn wants to call it, the Gnomic Utterances Tabletop Society, a.k.a. NUTS. I’m thrilled you’re all here, and I’m going to try my best not to mess this up too much. Over the next hour or so, we’ll figure out how to play this game together and if you’re all comfortable playing together. The system is loosely based on magic, mystery, and murder, and in my experience the best way to learn is to start playing.” They motioned to the table that was set up along one of the walls. “Please, take a seat. Grab one of the dice and a character sheet, and I’ll set the scene.”
We all hesitated for a second longer, but there was something magnetic about the way Ever took charge. We all wanted to be here, after all. And what they said made sense; the only way to get started was to dive right in. In that way, it wasn’t much different from any other game. Sure, there are rules to learn and techniques to master. But both of those things are pointless if you don’t first have a feel for the ball.
Or the dice, in this case.
Ever perched on the edge of the table. “It always starts with murder.” They started the story like they came to do every game. They had some note cards in their hand, but they mostly stared at us, as if they were weaving the story out of thin air.
“Welcome to Gonfalon. Welcome to the case of the deadly class.”
And with that, we were off. Well, we stumbled our way through figuring out the system. The rules for magic and the rules for skill points. The rules for dice rolls and the rules for puzzles. We all started out with the same basic class, Ever explained, and we would diversify from there, letting the story guide us as we wanted to, instead of deciding everything up front. We started out as students, much like we were ourselves, though Stardust High would never ever consider classes in blood magic.
And we fell into our roles. I found myself near Maddy, who played a girl with a piracy background. I found myself figuring out Feather’s heritage, and it was a wonderful experience of building a new persona and exploring parts of myself I was only partially comfortable with.
Ever checked in every so often to get a feel for the level of role play we all wanted. And before we could properly get into the case at hand, the hour and a half we had for the introduction were over, and we all had to go our separate ways. But none of us moved. We were all enthralled—or in the magisterium’s words: bespelled—and we didn’t want to go anywhere.
Our first WyvernCon was about three months after that first meeting, and we’d been playing together weekly for almost the entire time. You learn a lot about people when you solve murders together every week.
That is to say, we learned a lot about one another’s characters.
WyvernCon was the first time the six of us took a road trip—and it was still the six of us then. Zac was there, throwing money at everything Ever couldn’t afford, possibly only to piss them off. It was more complicated to be together and not only because of that. Inside our school theater, all we had to be was our characters. Sure, we brought our lives with us. Our bad days and our worries, our good days and our joys. But we met for the game, and everything else was secondary.
But WyvernCon was the first time we made a concentrated effort to hang out as friends too.
It was the first of many things.
The first time Liva made us costumes—and the first time she won the original design costume contest. Once she started designing, she started smiling again. She fell head over heels in love with creating, and underneath her carefully polished exterior, she was suddenly back to being the girl I’d been friends with.
The first time Ever and I met Damien (and the thousandth time I felt certain I was meant to be a game dev).
It was the first time I ever saw Ever lose their cool at anyone, when Zac laughed at an artist’s zine in the artist alley—after
