Dungeons & Divas

MY NAME IS AARON, and I play Dungeons &
Dragons.

I’ll admit it: I’ve been tossing 20-sided dice for over two decades.
And yes, I’m fully aware that D&D is probably the world’s
most mocked hobby (it’s pretty hard to argue with that sentiment once
you’ve been shunned by Trekkies, or snickered at by stormtroopers).

As much as I’d like to rail against the stereotypical perception of
D&D geeks, let’s just be honest: Mine brethren and I
are the cliché. We do spend our Friday nights
huddled around a table, talking about clerics’ healing powers and
debating the best way to slay gelatinous cubes. We do chug vast
amounts of over-caffeinated sodas, we do power-load slices of
pizza, and we do ponder such things as which is hotter: an elf
in a chainmail bikini, or an enchantress… in a chainmail bikini.

Recently, I started to hear rumors of a group that was defying the
stereotype of D&D nerds everywhere. So just as Frodo Baggins
set out on an adventure to save Middle-earth, I too embarked on a
quest—one in which I sought to find these possibly mythical
saviors of the world’s nerdiest hobby.

RIDDLES IN THE DARK

The moment you walk into Guardian Games—a gaming store hidden
deep in industrial Southeast Portland—you realize it isn’t your
older brother’s hobby shop. Forgoing the stuffy darkness of most
nerdery supply stores, Guardian Games feels like a place you can take
your grandmother, assuming your grandmother is into slaying orcs.

As they do with every customer, Angel May, 33, and her partner,
Michelle Wright, 37, greet me with enthusiasm. I saunter to the counter
and present my problem: I’d heard more women than ever were
enjoying nights of dragon slaying, booty hoarding, and funky-shaped
dice. But where?

May gives me a look I’ve seen far too many times from far too many
women—the one that says, “You’re so cute when you’re confused.” I
begin to explain further, but she mercifully interrupts me.

“Just come hang out with the Dungeon Divas,” she says. “They play
here every Wednesday.”

An entire gaming group of women? Victory is mine. Huzzah!

I arrive early the following Wednesday, just in time to see the
first of the Divas arrive. Susan Taylor, 32, enters with a confident
stride, and I ask her why, with the role-playing game industry now
almost 40 years old, it took so long for women to join en masse.

“Hard to enjoy a game where the imprisonment or raping of your
gender is a basic plot device,” Taylor quickly replies, and my urge to
respond with a humorous retort is quickly repressed.

She’s right: While some game publishers are improving gender
equality within role-playing games (RPGs)—they’ve dropped
gender-specific pronouns in rulebooks, for example, and present more
realistic presentations of the female form—the objectification of
women is still present in many books and games.

“Tabletop RPGs always felt like a boys-only club,” adds Sarah Soud,
20, as she joins Taylor at the table where the Divas play. “Most of the
publishers didn’t help, with their images of slutty women in chainmail
bikinis and heaving tavern wenches.” The remaining Divas, as they join
the table, nod in agreement.

Soud’s sentiment might explain why so many women gamers stick to
online RPGs like the immensely popular World of Warcraft (WoW). Guardian Games’ Angel May chimes in, “Games like
WoW act like a gateway drug to most female gamers.” Michelle
Herrmann, 39, who acts as the Divas’ dungeon master—the player
responsible for running the game—agrees. “That’s what drew me to
RPGs.”

Blizzard Entertainment, the company behind WoW, backs up that
sentiment—Blizzard’s statistics reveal that almost 45 percent of
WoW players are female. Since online RPGs like WoW emphasize gameplay before gender, tabletop games like D&D have some catching-up to do.

“We’re gamers first, and women second,” Herrmann continues. “As
gamers, we share a lot of common traits. Focusing on our differences to
include us and make us comfortable is fine, but if that’s all that gets
the focus, then it emphasizes our differences and excludes us.”

Acting as a group’s dungeon master takes smarts, so it’s no surprise
to learn that when she’s not playing with the Divas, Herrmann teaches
chemistry and physics at OMSI. As the Divas settle in for their game,
she quickly recaps the events from last week’s session: All is not well
in the town of Cauldron, the fantasy setting the Divas call home. The
townsfolk are nervous about an ancient evil rumbling under the streets,
and to make matters worse, the mayor’s son has been kidnapped.

BOOBS DON’T HELP WITH DICE ROLLS

As Herrmann pretends to be the mayor’s frantic wife—and as the
Divas try to discover clues about her son’s whereabouts—I ask May
why she offered her store to the gaming group.

“Short answer? I wanted to be able to play,” she says. Like the
Divas, Guardian’s owners work to break the stereotypes associated with
gamers. “I wanted to create an environment that encourages human
interaction,” May says. “Hopefully, Michelle and I have created a
location where anyone can sit down and play, veteran player or
newbie.”

RPGs are a cooperative form of storytelling, and the friendly
atmosphere within the store obviously encourages interaction. As the
night wears on, more and more men approach, curious about the game;
with the same affable camaraderie they show each other, the Dungeon
Divas tell them stories of high adventure and humorous missteps.

It seems the guys are genuinely happy to see the Divas playing, and
when I ask the Divas if they thought their interest was just an attempt
to meet some gamer chicks, Beth Lyons, 43, answers, “Maybe a little,
but not much.” She continues, “I think male gamers like what women
bring to the gaming table—we have a whole other perspective, and
that makes for a richer gaming experience.”

“Gender doesn’t really matter,” says Ted Dagonia, 30. “A good group
will always want the same thing: a fun game.”

Dagonia is the one exception to the Divas’ all-female gaming
group—having never played D&D until he found the Divas
online, he was welcomed with open arms. Taylor is quick to jump in with
a joke. “Although it’d be nice if you didn’t notice our boobs as much,”
she says. “Yes, they’re there—but they don’t help with dice
rolls.”

Observing how Dagonia interacts with the Divas, I feel Taylor isn’t
targeting him specifically, but rather joking about the stereotypical
perception of the male gamer. But here—regardless of their
gender—are gamers who personify everything about the
often-misunderstood world of gaming. Here is a group of friends that
love to share stories of action, adventure, loss, and redemption. This
is what gaming is supposed to be like.

But as promising of a thought as that is, it is hardly these gamers’
most pressing concern. Dungeon Master Herrmann taps her pen on the
table, bringing the Divas back to more important matters. “Ladies,” she
says, “you still need to rescue the mayor’s kidnapped son.”