I just thought I would share a story with you about a D&D game gone wrong.
My first gaming group consisted of me, my brother and two other friends. This group is not the core group that would later be dubbed the Foaming Flagons, but it was my first.
I started my gaming with the purchase of one of every type of gaming die,(Assorted colors.) and the Keep on the Borderlands module.
I had no idea what the hell I was doing.
I was only about nine at the time so you gotta forgive me.
About a week later, my mom, my grandma, my grandpa and my brother went to a Rinks store in New Philadelphia, Ohio where I purchased the first Basic D&D red box. (The Mentzer set.)
I nearly puked with excitement. I was that kind of a kid.
My hands shook as I ripped the cellophane off the box and tried reading bits of text as we passed under street lamps along the highway.
I devoured that Player's Book in about 30 minutes.
Of course I purchased the Expert set and eventually got into the AD&D stuff when I hit Junior High.
I always took pretty decent care of my stuff.
I kept all my D&D stuff in pretty good shape.
(You know this is really funny because after all these years, I have been told I can break an anvil with a rubber mallet.)
But my brother is a walking disaster.
We were gaming in our room with a couple of buddies. I think my brother might have been in the 8th grade and I was in 6th.
Back in those days, he could steal snuff (AKA Dip AKA Chew) or at least get some older people to buy it for him. (We lived in a rather rural area but I never picked up the habit myself.)
Like many people with that particularly disgusting habit, my brother had a large mason jar which he used as a spitoon.
Do you see where this is going?
I was DMing this particular day and my brother jumped to his feet to go to the bathroom. My precious books were spread out on our bedroom floor. As he stood up, he bumped his foot against a mason jar that was three quarters full of tobacco spit, spilling the tarry, foul liquid all over my beloved tomes.
I don't believe and no one can convince me otherwise that the D&D game has ever caused, directly or indirectly the death of any person.
Except for almost once in this occasion.
My brother still lives of course and eventually he took up smoking, but I will never forget the horror and disgust of that day.
At least he was good enough to clean it up himself.