"Dungeons, Dragons and the Divine" – June 16, 1983

Dungeons, Dragons, and the Divine – June 16, 1983

The library shimmered, the walls shifting into a glowing tableau of a group of players gathered around a table. Dice clattered, papers rustled, and a Dungeon Master’s screen stood tall at the center. Peter and Calliope found themselves amidst this scene, the air thick with the energy of imagination.

“In 1983, the dragon came to me again,” Peter began, gesturing toward the ethereal game table, “this time through a role-playing game called Dungeons & Dragons.”

Calliope tilted her head, her quill poised. “A game?” she asked, a note of curiosity in her voice.

Peter nodded. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘art imitates life’? What looks on the surface like a role-playing game is a model for life itself. The idea that we’re not the characters we play in the world but rather larger souls experiencing human incarnations revealed itself to me through the game.”

Fate and Fortune

Peter gazed up, the ceiling of the library transforming into a starry sky. “Fate and Fortune,” he said softly. “There was always a random element—or at least, it appeared to be.”

“A random element in the game?” Calliope asked, her quill tracing his words. “What was that?”

“The dice rolls,” Peter explained. “All games had to have a quantum element of randomness. It’s the fuzzy place where you don’t know, where you gamble on your fate and fortune with a roll of mystery. It’s a principle tied to Mystos on the Tree of Stories.”

“So, you’re saying that Dungeons & Dragons was a model for the world of magic?”

“No,” Peter said firmly. “The world of magic was a model for Dungeons & Dragons. When you look at it in a unified way, all styles of magic are about Fate and Fortune. They’re about what is going to happen and what may be left to Chance, phrased through symbols and associations. It’s the nature of language itself, transcendent of the traditions that created it.”

The Layers of Experience

The scene around them shifted, showing a younger Peter at a game table with friends, their imaginations weaving a world together. “Even then, there was a sensation,” Peter said, his voice tinged with wonder. “A feeling of something larger, something greater that hovered above us as we played. While I couldn’t have articulated it at the time, I sensed octaves—things existing on many levels at once. We were both players embodying characters in the game and a greater version of ourselves doing the same thing with our lives.”

Calliope smiled, her quill moving swiftly. “It was a shared experience?”

“Yes,” Peter replied. “I felt our minds interweaving, co-creating a world with the strength of our imagination from the ethers of what was.”

Bahamut and the Divine

A shimmering image of a platinum dragon appeared, its majestic form radiating light. “Introduced in the first edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons,” Peter began, “Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon, is the King of the Good Dragons—a deity of good dragonkind. For me, Bahamut represented a deeper connection to the divine within the game.”

Calliope’s eyes gleamed. “So the game wasn’t just entertainment. It was a doorway into the true nature of the Dragon and the magical world itself.”

“Exactly,” Peter said. “There was true magic there—creating worlds out of the fires of imagination. It sparked my consciousness forward, initiating my quest to map out the real magical world and share it with others.”

World-Building and Storycraft

The library shifted again, showing maps and miniature figurines. Peter gestured to the scene. “I loved creating worlds—feeling into the shapes and inspirations that forged realms of myth and story. More than that, I loved the sensation of living inside those worlds, of embodying one’s heroic ideal.”

Calliope watched the maps and figures come alive. “What was most important to you in that?” she asked.

“The land,” Peter said. “The world itself. It was the context for the characters, the place where their journeys happened. No world, no wonders to wander through. I found the idea of topography—the landscapes of legend—fascinating. Much later, I realized this was part of the seed of my soul. My purpose here is to give people the maps of their myth and the landscapes of their legend.”

Life as a Game

Calliope’s expression turned thoughtful. “How did the maps of the role-playing games relate to people’s paths?”

“Art imitates life,” Peter said. “What looked like a group of kids rolling dice in an imagined universe was a model for life itself—the soul playing the character in the great game of life.”

“So, it wasn’t really about the game?” Calliope asked.

“It wasn’t,” Peter agreed. “It was about what it means to be human—playing the character in one’s story, moving along the landscapes of their legend.”

The Spell of Storytelling

Peter’s voice softened as he continued. “There was an energy in the playing—a shared communion that emerged from between us. Something precious was shifting as we explored the worlds of our imagination, opening us up to new vistas.”

Calliope’s quill danced across the parchment. “In story, one could create a world and share it with others, where each player had their own character—their avatar inside that world. The Dungeon Master’s role was to hold space for the many dreamers within.”

Peter nodded. “Exactly. The spell of it was fascinating—the way everything came together, how the journey of the hero was wrapped in the skins of story.”

Gamma World and Thundarr the Barbarian

The scene shifted again, showing glowing ruins and post-apocalyptic landscapes. “Alongside Dungeons & Dragons, there was Gamma World,” Peter said, “and a cartoon called Thundarr the Barbarian. These shaped my sense of the world and my place within it.”

Calliope’s eyes sparkled. “It seems like every piece of media you encountered was another step in your journey.”

“It was,” Peter said. “Each story, each game, was a portal—a glimpse into the magical world that I longed to explore.”

“IN 1983 the dragon came to me again, this time through a role playing game called “DUngeons and Dragons”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘art imitates life’? What looks on the surface like a roleplaying game is a model for life itself.” said Peter, “and the idea that we were not the characters that we played in the world but a larger soul experiencing a human incarnation revealed itself to me through the game.”

“Fate and Fortune …” said Peter, looking up at the stars for a moment. “Fate and Fortune. There was always a random element, or at least, they appeared to be.”

“A random element in the game? What was that?”

“The dice rolls. All games had to have a quantum element of randomness. It was the fuzzy place where you didn’t know, where you gambled on your fate and your fortune with a roll of mystery. It’s a thing defined by the principle of Mystos on the Tree of Stories.”

“So you’re saying that Dungeons and Dragons was a model for the world of magic?”

“No. I’m saying the world of magic was a model for Dungeons and Dragons.” he said firmly.

“What do you mean by that?”

He shrugged. “”It’s true, actually. When you look at it in a unified way, all styles of magic are about Fate and Fortune. They’re about what is going to happen and what may be left to Chance phrased through a bunch of symbols and associations. It’s the nature of language itself transcendent of the traditions that created it.”

Even then there was a sensation.  A feeling of something larger, something greater that hovered above the people sitting around the table.  While I couldn’t have articulated it the way I am now at the time, there was a sense of octaves, of things existing on many levels at once, where we were both the players embodying characters in the world of the game as it looked at the table and a greater version of ourself doing the same thing with our selves and their stories.

It was a shared experience, one where I felt our minds interweaving together, co-creating a world with the strength of our imagination from the ethers of what was.

Introduced in the 1st Edition of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (AD&D) and continuing into 2004's release of Complete Divine, Bahamut, the Platinum Dragon, is the King of the Good Dragons.[2] He is a deity of good dragonkind (usually, but not exclusively, referring to metallic dragons) and a member of the default pantheon of D&D gods.[3] His counterpart in Dragonlance is Paladine (though many regard the two as separate beings). Bahamut is a child of the dragon god Io. He is also referred to as the God of Dragons or the Lord of the North Wind.

Rann had a helmet which granted him , another thing which played out in my over time

In retrospect, what is most fascinating to me about this is how the game Dungeons and Dragons was itself a doorway into the true nature of the Dragon, of the magical world herself

“There was true magic there.  Forging worlds out of the fires of imagination that would spark me forward, initiating my consciousness in the quest to map out the real magical world and share that with the people. It was world-building, creating entire landscapes of story that could support the adventures of characters on their many quests.”

There was more between the letters.  Something beneath the pages, past the ink and the parchment.  Such things were portals to another realm, a realm of ideas which I felt existed beyond the surface of the world.

And I LOVED it.  I loved creating worlds.  Feeling into the shapes and inspirations that forged the realms of myth and story.  More than that, I loved the sensation of living inside that world, of the places of magic that I felt within the natural world and within the embodiment of one’s heroic ideal.

“That’s the thing though. It’s not only me. It’s every storyteller, every poet, every musician and shaper of myth that ever was! That ever WILL be, each of us playing our part in the Great Story of humanities unfoldment!”

“There was an energy that was present in the playing, something that emerged from between our selves in shared communion.  Something precious was shifting as we explored the worlds of our imagination, opening us up to new vistas.””

“There was an energy that was present in the playing, something that emerged from between our selves in shared communion.  Something precious was shifting as we explored the worlds of our imagination, opening us up to new vistas.”

“In story, one could create a world and share it with others, where each player had their own character, their avatar inside that world, and the role of the Dungeon Master was to orchestrate and maintain that world, to hold space for the many dreamers within. I became fascinated with this, with the creation of a world.”

“What was most important to you in that?” she asked.

“The land.” he said. “The world itself. It was the context for the characters, the place where their journeys happened. No world, no wonders to wander through. I found the idea of the topography that things happened in fascinating far more than the various aspects of the culture. Much later I would realize that this part of the seed of my soul, the purpose for which I came into the incarnate plane to perform, to give people the maps of their myth and the landscape of their legend.”

“I’m not sure I understand” said Calliope, “How did the maps of the roleplaying games relate to people’s path?”

“Art imitates life.” he replied. “What looked on the surface as a bunch of kids sitting around rolling dice in an imaged universe was a model for the actual process of life, for the idea of the soul having an experience in the soil, playing the character it was playing in the great game of life itself.”

“So you’re saying it wasn’t really about the game you were playing, but about what it means to be human.”

He nodded. “Yes. To play the character in one’s story, moving along the landscape of their legend.”

“But .. how does the landscape of a roleplaying game relate to one’s actual path?”

“Intimately.” said Peter. “But you have to see it from a certain depth.”

“I found the spell of it fascinating. The ways everything came together, how the journey of the hero was wrapped in the skins of story.”

“It was complemented by the Player’s Handbook, which was essentially a guide for the player’s to understand how to play within the magical world.”

Gamma World …

Alongside my deep love for playing Dungeons and Dragons was a cartoon which would deeply influence my idea of the world and my place within it called ‘Thundarr the Barbarian’ (this would clearly be a part of the names of my stories influenced by the Savage Sword of Conan series)