Gaming with my Kids

What My Kids Taught Me About Gaming

When I was six, I stumbled into the world of role-playing games, poring over my older brother’s Moldvay books. I was utterly hooked. I’d spend hours staring at a single illustration, lost in its magic. For the next three or four years, we played weekly, my brother forever our Dungeon Master. But life, as it does, pulled me away from those fantasy realms toward basketball and other pursuits. I didn’t return to gaming until 2016, though I never stopped collecting miniatures (a story for another day).

I never imagined that decades later, I’d be back at a table, not with childhood friends, but with my own kids. Watching them step into the same worlds I once explored has been one of the most unexpected and joyful parts of fatherhood. I thought I’d be the one teaching them how to play. Instead, they’ve taught me.

Adventures not Math

As adults, we often get tangled in game mechanics. We debate rules, obsess over characters, and crunch numbers to gain every possible edge. My kids? They’ve shown me how little that matters.

They don’t care about the math. They care about the journey. It’s not about hitting the perfect armor class or rolling maximum damage. It’s about whether their character finds the hidden door, saves a village, or keeps the shiny gemstone wrestled from a troll. They laugh when a goblin tumbles into a pit and cheer when their characters save a friend. Through them, I’ve rediscovered that the heart of gaming lies not in the rulebook’s fine print, but in the thrill of adventure.

Their joy reminds me of my own at their age. Somewhere along the way, as we grow up, we start treating games like puzzles to solve. My kids show me that, at its best, a game isn’t a spreadsheet. It’s a living, breathing journey that unfolds in the moment.

Wonder Years

The greatest gift my kids have given me is a renewed sense of wonder. Children don’t just see monsters and dungeons like adults do. They experience them. They pause the game to ask questions we’d never think to consider:

“What does the monster smell like?”

“Is the cave warm or cold?”

“Can my character try to befriend it?”

These questions spring straight from their boundless imaginations. When they ask, I’m forced to pause and remember that the game world is more than stats. It’s a place of sensations, mysteries, and endless possibilities.

Their curiosity pulls me back to the essence of role-playing. It reminds me that dice and rules are just tools to support the journey. Sometimes, the best moments come not from a planned encounter, but from a child’s whim, like deciding the dungeon’s troll deserves a second chance.

Charging Mordor

Watching my kids play is both hilarious and inspiring because they are fearless. Adults hesitate, weighing odds, checking math, second-guessing every move. Not kids.

My children will charge into a dragon’s lair with nothing but a sword. They’ll bargain with a demon, trusting their quick wit to save the day. They’ll step into the darkness without a torch (well not since Shadowdark), just because it looks exciting. That kind of courage is contagious. I realize how often adults let caution paralyze us. In games, and in life, the best memories often come from bold choices. My kids remind me that failure isn’t the end. If the dragon eats you, that’s still a story worth telling. Pulp Hummock loves telling the story of when my dwarf fighter was slaughtered by trolls. And if you succeed, the victory is sweeter because you dared to try.

Laughter, the Best Medicine

Above all, my kids have taught me joy. There’s a special kind of laughter that fills the table when children play: pure, loud, and unfiltered. It’s not cynical or restrained. It’s the sound of pure delight.

I hear it when my daughter role-plays a grumpy dwarf who despises elves, she's a big Hobbit fan,  or when my son insists his wizard’s pet chicken joins every dungeon crawl. I hear it when a fail sends the party into chaos or when they concoct wild ideas no adult would dream up, like bribing a dragon with a bedtime story.

Those moments remind me that the true treasure in any game isn’t gold or glory. It’s the shared laughter with the people you love. Dice clatter, characters stumble, and the story unfolds in ways none of us could predict. In those moments, we’re together, and that’s priceless.

One Eyed Willies Treasure

Gaming with my kids has transformed how I see this hobby. As a young player, I thought the treasure was in winning, outsmarting the dungeon, beating the odds. Now, I see it’s in the time we spend together, the bonds we forge, and the memories we create.

It’s not just about nostalgia. It’s about sharing journeys with the people you love and watching their eyes light up as they shape the world. It’s about giving them the same sense of wonder that once gave me hope when I needed it most.

In many ways, my kids have brought me back to why I fell in love with gaming in the first place. They’ve stripped away the noise: the rules debates, the online bickering, the pressure to get it “right.” They’ve shown me that at its core, gaming is about imagination, courage, and fun.

That’s the lesson I carry now, as both a gamer and a father. It’s one I hope never to forget