“The Legend of Vox Machina” Is Here and it’s Already Queer

One of the reasons I love Dungeons and Dragons as a queer person, and love playing it with my queer friends, is that it celebrates the weirdo. The heroes of D&D aren’t the princes or the queens, the heroes are usually a ragtag group of misfits who found each other through choice or chance and work together to take down whatever evil force plagues them. Characters grow and learn and bond and change and it’s celebrated and rewarded at every turn. And it seems The Legend of Vox Machina will be no different.

There’s something about a passion project. While it’s possible for brilliant creators to make something great that’s just a job to them, the specialness of something that was made by people who love and believe in the project is palpable. And Critical Role has always been a passion project. It started as an at-home D&D game that evolved into a small stream that evolved into an entire media empire. But the entire time, it has been created by a group of friends with a passion for storytelling, and that’s the foundation that has stayed strong as the shape of Critical Role shifts and grows from just one actual-play stream to a creation hub that includes one-shots, other gaming streams, interviews, D&D tip videos, gaming manuals, tabletop games, puzzles, and, now, an animated series.

I love them, your honor.

This decision to turn one of the stories (the first, in fact) this group of nerdy-ass voice actors brought to life into an animated series came at a great time for adults-only cartoons. Bojack Horseman, Big Mouth, Harley Quinn and more have proven that while some made-for-kids cartoons are still healing our inner child with married gems and queer witches, grown-ups want cartoons made for us, too. It allows for more magic and surrealism without a Game of Thrones budget, and it’s especially fitting for a story that started as an arc in Dungeons & Dragons. And, what’s great about turning it into a series is that Matt Mercer had already create a diverse group of characters, but now they can be played by a diverse group of actors, instead of them all being played by just him, as is the nature of being the Dungeon Master. And, in fact, talking about the cast is a great place to start.

Spoilers specifically for the first three episodes of The Legend of Vox Machina afoot!

The show is already queer because of the cast, both in queer characters they’ve played and also some of them being queer themselves. As we know, the main cast is all present, including Ashley Johnson who has played iconic queer characters like Ellie in The Last of Us and Yasha in Campaign 2 of Critical Role, plus Marisha Ray who played lesbian badass Beau in that same campaign. And Laura Bailey who has voiced so many characters I’m sure at least one of them is queer. (Jury’s still out on Vex.)

Then, for guest stars we have Indira Varma (Ellaria Sand, Game of Thrones) and noted bisexual Stephanie Beatriz as Lady Allura and Lady Kima.

I know this makes sense especially on the heels of her voicing Mirabel in Encanto but it still felt like worlds colliding in the best way.

Other well-known actors from shows with queer characters like Felicia Day and David Tennant are present in the cast list, as well as non-binary actors playing non-binary characters, like Stacey Raymond as Bryn.

I know I basically just reiterated the IMDb to you but it’s a very exciting cast list! I’m very excited.

The show itself lets you know it’s not for children in the very first scene. It starts out looking like a typical high fantasy story, but the “heroes” are immediately killed in a storm of blood and cursing, because they are not OUR heroes, they are simply the tool with which we’re told that the stakes are high.

We are then introduced to our REAL heroes, who are…not looking very heroic. In fact, they are a damn mess, causing a ruckus, down on their luck, or, in Scanlan’s case, mid-fuck. But their luck turns around when there’s a call for mercenaries to solve a problem of a mysterious beast, and despite not having the best reputation in the town of Emon, they’re hired for the job.

They spend the first two episodes discovering that there’s a dragon to slay, hyping themselves up to slay the dragon, and then, playing to their strengths and working together as a party, slaying the dragon.

One great thing about these first few episodes is that they are full of newness, whether you have never even heard of Critical Role and just stumbled across the show on Amazon Prime, or if you have seen all eleventy billion hours of CR content, because they cover story elements that were never shown on stream. And in fact, I think the way they handle all of it, the character intros, where we entered in their journey, the worldbuilding; it’s all set up to be just as fun for newcomers and veteran Critters.

That said, there are also plenty of little nods to those of us who are more familiar with the stream, from little details like the way Keyleth does some of the same arm motions as Marisha when casting spells, to bigger winks like the book Tusk Love being available in Gilmore’s shop, or the poster of the Ruby of the Sea in the secret room they found. They also immortalize running gags from the stream, like Vox Machina always running into trouble with doors, their odd choice of safe word, etc.

The third episode kicks off a story arc viewers of Campaign 1 will be familiar with, now that the Briarwoods have made themselves known, but with the ability to give Percy flashbacks, and this new format in general, (And I promise there’s more queerness to come but I can’t tell you more without spoiling you.)I have a feeling we’ll continue to experience a fun mix of familiarity and newness in the coming episodes.

I think it would have been easy to scrap any similarities to D&D when they shifted to an animated series, but the game is still coloring the characters and stories, the same way it did as an actual play TTRPG stream. Keyleth, the druid, can manipulate nature and turn into animals, Vex the archer has her trusty bow and her best friend Trinket the Bear, her twin brother Vax is a rogue who sneaks off to investigate, Pike the cleric heals her friends when they’re hurt, Grog the barbarian is a gentle giant who channels his rage in battle, Percy the gunslinger is calculating and precise, and Scanlan the bard is often busy charming people or distracting them with a song. I like that, so far at least, the limits put on them by the game are also sometimes in play, like how Pike was “too drained” from the first battle to heal the injured child they found, which is how being “out of spell slots” in D&D would translate to “real life.” To me it’s the perfect combination of D&D and animated high fantasy and I can’t wait to see what other little aspects of the game flavor and guide the story.

Our Favorite Lesbian and Bisexual TV Characters as D&D Classes

This post was written by Valerie Anne and Meg Jones Wall

The more I get into D&D, the more it bleeds into my passion for television. I find myself thinking about TV character’s histories as “backstory” and accidentally calling side characters “NPCs.” I find myself imagining (and okay fine writing) scenes for my D&D characters as if they were moments from an episode of television. I started talking to my friends about what alignments we would assign to our fictional faves. So honestly it feels like it was just a matter of time until I roped one of my friends into imagining an adventuring party full of fictional queer women, so that’s exactly what Meg and I are here to do today.

Elena Alvarez, One Day at a Time: The DM

Meg: Detail-oriented, organized, and able to put 150% into every single project she touches, Elena would make a brilliant DM. I can absolutely imagine her building an elaborate and layered world for her players to get lost in, helping her friends build brilliant characters, and taking real glee in crafting difficult battle maps for combat scenarios. I can also absolutely imagine Alex making fun of her for wanting to play D&D, and then immediately building a complicated artificer and trying to beat Elena at her own game.

Valerie: You know Elena would be the kind of DM who wrote her own dungeons that tied in specific backstory elements for each of her players. The kind who would have entire encounters written but gleefully toss them aside when her players decide to do something chaotic instead. Lydia would probably overhear Elena practicing different NPC voices in her room and think she’s losing her mind or seeing ghosts.

Meg: I cannot stop laughing at the image of Lydia just staring in shocked horror while Elena DMs a combat with some hideous monster and makes grotesque noises while her players shriek and yell and strategize. Perfect.

Ryan Wilder, Batwoman: Fighter (chaotic good)

Valerie: I could see Ryan talks-to-her-plants Wilder going one of two ways with this. One: She’s actually super nerdy and super into it and already has three ideas for characters in her back pocket and was just waiting for someone to ask her to play. OR Two: She pretends like she’s too cool for D&D but she’ll play just to hang out and give it a try but then gets super into it and spends a lot of time researching feats to build the best fighter ever. And with her martial arts training, she’d be really great at describing different fighting flourishes and especially final blows.

Meg: I always think it’s so amazing when people who actually know how to do specific skills get to showcase them in a game. Being able to bring real-world knowledge on fighting and hand-to-hand combat is such a fun skill that makes those moments feel even more real and engaging. I feel like Ryan would be super technical in her descriptions in a way that pulls all of the other players right into the game and makes them feel like they’re all part of the action.

Willow Rosenberg, Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Wizard (neutral good)

Meg: This one felt easy. Willow may use the word witch rather than wizard but it’s the same practical application — spending time in dedicated study, constantly looking up spells and demons in musty old books, and slowly learning how to build up knowledge until you can wield magic with seemingly no effort. Willow was always a nerd but really comes into her true power once she latches onto witchcraft, especially given how close it brought her (ahem) to Tara.

Valerie: You know she’d be the notetaker of the group. Constantly thumbing through her notebook like it was a research tome every time they hear a familiar name or get a new clue. I think it could also be really healing for her to play a wizard who is like very against mind-manipulation magic and who once dabbled in the dark/necromantic arts but is Reformed and dedicated to using magic for Good now.

Adora, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power: Paladin (chaotic good)

Meg: Big sword, love of strategy, determined to save everyone even if it’s at the cost of her own life and happiness? Love She-Ra as a paladin. I could see a case for Adora being either lawful or chaotic, since she so bounces between the two — she has a strong sense of justice and lives by a moral code that comes from deep within herself, but she also jumps from idea to idea and tends to either spend hours building a complex planned strategy or run into a fight with guns (or sword) blazing. But she’s fighting for her friends, her community, which gives her magic and power beyond what herself. She represents a bigger cause, a beautiful ideal, and that makes her a perfect paladin.

Valerie: I think Adora would THINK she was a lawful good character but can’t help herself when it comes to running into dangerous scenarios. I agree that paladin is perfect for her, because she has the strength of She-Ras before her deep within, plus the ability to pick her friends up when they’re down with just a touch of healing magic. She’s an inspiring leader (most of the time) and also can cast Find Steed whenever she needs Swift Wind. (Oh god now I’m picturing Swift Wind playing D&D with them as Adora’s steed. It would be like if Critical Role‘s Vox Machina had a player character being Trinket.)

Meg: I wonder how many times Swift Wind would have to accidentally knock the entire combat board over before Elena made him sit on the other side of the room to play.

Annalise Keating, How to Get Away with Murder: Bard (lawful neutral)

Meg: So here’s the thing — we usually associate bards with musicians and artists, so this might feel like a strange choice. But Annalise is so smart, so charismatic, so clever with words and insights and ideas. She can talk anyone into anything, can talk herself into anything, knows how to navigate tight corners and work the system and find the secrets that will turn the tides in her favor. And what is that if not a bard? Her words, her intelligence, her sheer force of personality all give her magic and power that brings people to her side, whether they want to be there or not.

Valerie: Annalise would also know the rulebooks inside and out. Forget the mechanics of your spell? Don’t worry even though she’s never played a druid she knows how it works. She would be the one mentally keeping track of an enemy’s concentration spells, legendary reactions, etc so employ the best strategy. And like you said, probably is the face of the party who talks them out of plenty of sticky situations.

Meg: They’re called rules lawyers for a reason! Annalise would totally know the mechanics backwards and forwards, but would also be able to find those little loopholes and vague pieces that would like her outsmart the enemy. It’s always great to have a player like that in your party.

Harley Quinn, Harley Quinn: Monk (thinks she’s chaotic evil, is actually chaotic neutral)

Meg: Harley’s gymnastics background makes this one also feel really easy. Those fight sequences in Birds of Prey are absolutely flawless, and her creativity and ability to adapt to her surroundings, her speed, and her flexibility make Harley a brilliant monk. The chaos only adds to the fun.

In terms of alignment, I think Harley likes the idea of evil more than the evil itself. As long as she sticks with Ivy, I think she’ll stay on the neutral side of things.

Valerie: I go back and forth between imagining these characters playing D&D and them being D&D characters I want to build and play as. Harley would be fun either way. Though probably hard to keep her attention for long sessions, she’d be super into it, though I could also see her chucking dice across the room when they weren’t working in her favor. It’s also fun imagining Harley Quinn as a monk who has a baseball bat instead of a staff. And who has magic roller skates that appear on her feet whenever she casts Step of the Wind to dash.

Alex Danvers, Supergirl: Rogue (lawful good)

Meg: I think there’s an argument to be made for Alex as a fighter or a ranger too, but I like her as a rogue given that she is constantly doing recon and research, relying on her intelligence and quick reflexes to survive fights that would take out other humans with ease. She tends to put herself out in front, being the first one in and standing between danger and her friends, which feels like a very roguey (roguish? rogue-esque?) move to me. Plus she looks hot as fuck in black.

Valerie: Alex would be so into strategy. And loot! She’d get so excited every time she got a new magic dagger or protective gem. I think as a human rogue (with a non-human, super-strong sister) she’d also often be underestimated and written off as not the biggest threat, then she’d pop in there with some sneak attack action and show them what she’s made of. (PS. If imagining Alex as a person PLAYING D&D, you know Nia would absolutely be her DM and it would be amazing.)

Emma Hernandez, Vida: Barbarian (true neutral)

Valerie: This is another one I was originally thinking that Emma would love to PLAY a barbarian if someone ever managed to convince her to play D&D. She spends a lot of her days bottling up her feelings and I think it would be very cathartic for her to get out her frustrations by way of rage-punching knolls. That said, I think Emma as a character also embodies some of the traits of a good barbarian character, especially in that she’s stronger than she looks, she might not smile about it but she WILL protect the people who matter to her at all costs, and taking a metaphorical hit or two isn’t going to stop her from getting back up and persevering.

Heather: Oh hey! I can also imagine Emma saying, in that sort of sultry and sheepish Ashley Johnson way, “I would like to rage” — and then, once she’s in battle, just fully embracing it. I also think she has that barbarian class energy that’s seems like it’s out for itself but then ultimately turns into the person who sacrifices the most for her family.

Waverly Earp, Wynonna Earp: Cleric (neutral good)

Meg: This girl was put on earth to heal people, and that’s a fact. Sensitive and patient, observant and kind, fiercely loyal and intensely generous, cleric just feels right. The fact that she’s also an angel and Aasimar is right there is icing on the cake.

Valerie: Waverly is SUCH a nerd and you KNOW she builds characters and writes backstories just for fun. But also yes we know Waverly is an angel and thus definitely Aasimar, but also definitely a cleric. If you’re on her side she’ll gently touch your face to heal you, and if you’re not she’ll gently touch your face and cast ‘inflict wounds’ for 3d10 necrotic damage. RIP Mam Clanton.

Nico Minoru, Marvel’s Runaways: Sorcerer (true neutral)

Valerie: This one almost felt like cheating since Nico is literally a sorcerer. But it also fits in the D&D context, since she comes from a line of sorcerers and it can get a little out of her own control sometimes. Nico IRL has mastery over the Command spell, and if she were playing a sorcerer in D&D would constantly be huffing about how magic did or did not work like a doctor watching Grey’s Anatomy.

Meg: Deeply love the idea of magical people having to play this game under the rules of fictional magic and learn a different set of mechanics that contradicts what they know to be true. I would watch that show.

Jamie Taylor, The Haunting of Bly Manor: Druid (neutral good)

Valerie: We were doing our best to try to come up with someone for as many classes as we could and when we said we needed a druid we were a little stumped for a second until I opened my dndbeyond account for inspiration and saw my twilight cleric who is literally named Calonyction Ipomoea after the moonflower that I was like DUH JAMIE OF COURSE. Druids worship nature and find peace and healing there, often relating more to plans than people, much like Jamie. Her presence is calming and healing and I bet she’d love to be able to turn into any animal she wants.

Meg: I never actually finished Haunting of Hill House (I know, I’m a bad friend, but I do still think your essay on it is fucking brilliant) but Jamie sounds lovely.

Valerie: Someday when we’re both vaccinated I’m coming over and we’re watching Hill House and Bly Manor together and it will be wonderful.

Nyssa al Ghul, CW’s Arrowverse: Ranger (true neutral)

Valerie: I mean…have you ever seen anyone as good with a bow and arrow? She has everything she needs to make a good D&D character: assassin training, traumatic background, daddy issues, an ex-girlfriend who is also a fighter. I think if Nyssa were PLAYING a ranger, she’d probably try to have a black canary as a companion and the DM would have to convince her that it’s not practical but since she’s stubborn and could snap your neck before you knew what was happening they’d probably custom-build a battle canary that was unnaturally large and had the stats of a giant eagle.

Meg: BATTLE. CANARY. This is everything I never knew I wanted.

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Lesbian Love Rolled a Natural 20 on Last Week’s “Critical Role”

WARNING: Extreme spoilers for Episode 126 of Critical Role afoot!

When we first met Beauregard Lionett, she was a womanizing jock who loved to flirt with any lady she met, laugh with her pals, and pop pop a bad guy in the jaw whenever she could. She was a former rebellious teen, a reckless young adult, and was just here to have a good time. The first time Yasha met Beau, the small human dramatically played up an injury so the hulking barbarian would carry her in her perfectly sculpted arms. But somewhere along the line things changed. They evolved from joking flirtations to gentle conversations. Beau went from a twinge of distrust when Yasha was in Obann’s control, to sympathy for the guilt Yasha carries. To forgiveness. And Beau went from one-night stands to planning an elaborate, thoughtful date for the girl she liked.

Somewhere between when Beau and Yasha realized they had feelings for each other and last week’s date, each of them had conversations with other members of the Mighty Nein. Jester helped Yasha write a poem for Beau, Beau confided in Fjord. But Yasha lacked the self-confidence to feel like she’s earned the right to make the first move on the woman she has hurt before (albeit not of her own accord), and Beau didn’t want to rush Yasha into moving on from her dead wife too quickly. Since both of them told Jester where they stood but not each other, Jester intervened juuuust a little and told Beau that even though she wanted to leave it to Yasha to make the first move, Beau had to at least make it clear she was open for that move. So eventually, amidst the chaos of their tasks to stop the Tomb Takers, Beau asked Yasha on a date.

Beau had Caleb change up the look of their wizard tower for the night to her specifications, designed specifically to follow the trajectory of Beau and Yasha’s history, complete with a fight against some dachshund ninjas. They finally got time to be alone and talk and it was so great and so gay.

Yasha explained a little about why she’s been moving so slowly when it comes to Beau. She knows the risk of loving someone when you have enemies after you. She knows how showing she cares about Beau could put a target on her back. But I think maybe she’s also starting to know that Beau can handle it. That, together, they can handle it.

“I’ve had a lot of people in my head and I don’t want to give them you”.#criticalrolefanart #beauyasha pic.twitter.com/B2f6OUQan0

— Anna 🌼 (@thezenanna) February 21, 2021

Yasha said she fell in love with Beau when they went to her hometown and Yasha saw where Beau came from, met her parents, saw how she was raised, got a better understanding of how she grew up. Yasha got a glimpse into some of the shit Beau has been through, and looked again at the badass, strong, hilarious woman Beau grew up to be, and she started to fall in love. And it makes sense to me that Yasha, someone who has been through so much and is struggling with figuring out what the things she’s done mean about who she is, would admire Beau’s strength and determination to be her own person. Yasha looked at Beau and saw that maybe it’s possible that your past doesn’t have to define you.

And even though Beau reiterated to Yasha that she has zero expectations, that she will move as slowly as Yasha needs, Jester proved to be right and just opening herself up to the possibility gave Yasha the push she needed to make the first move.

https://twitter.com/ArseQueef/status/1362649479686545411

So they finally kissed, and everyone at the table cheered. Beau and Yasha fought side by side and they kissed some more and there was even a throwback to the mirrored bed in Beau’s room. I was feeling very “everything is gay and nothing hurts” by the end of it.

Last time I wrote about Critical Role, I had only played a few one-shots of D&D. Two years later, I’ve been part of three campaigns, all of them exclusively with queer women and non-binary people. Queerness is embedded in the games, just like its embedded in our lives, and because we rule this fictional world we’ve created, everyone is assumed queer (even the NPCs) unless they state otherwise. No one has to come out in our games, we can just live our best queer lives in our fictional safe space because we’ve created a literal safe space. We explore our characters’ pasts and presents, their relationships with each other, and work out our motivations together week after week. We have some games where we’re laughing so hard we cry, we have some games that require more serious or intense conversations. We are open and generous and just so, so queer. It had brought me closer to friends I’ve known for years and made people I barely knew two years ago some of the best friends I’ve ever had, and, not to be dramatic, but it’s one of the only reasons I survived 2020.

Aaaand the regular still piece. #beauyasha #CriticalRole #CriticalRoleSpoilers #CriticalRoleArt pic.twitter.com/4SQoTtDjiJ

— Vic Iddstar Hill (@Iddstar) February 20, 2021

Playing D&D, especially in a way that’s role-play heavy the way Critical Role is, requires both emotional intimacy and trust. It’s clear to me that Ashley and Marisha trust each other, and trust the rest of the table, too, and it’s so wonderful to witness. Ashley is a quieter player in general, not one to speak up too much during group conversations unless addressed directly, but this episode showed more than ever that just because she’s often quiet doesn’t mean Ashley isn’t thinking deeply about Yasha’s feelings and relationships. It was so lovely for Marisha to give her this space to be able to share them with all of us. Because it was as much fun to watch them go on this date as it was to watch my queer friends react to it one by one as we all watched. It felt so much like how my friends and I play the game, with story and inter-player dynamics being as important as any battle or baddie, if not more. It was such a beautiful, fun, emotional, hilarious, exciting hour of Critical Role, and it was all about two lesbians in love.

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The Gayest “Critical Role” Moments of The Past Year

I honestly don’t remember the moment I was first introduced to D&D by way of pop culture, but I know that the general vibe I got, all the way up until The Big Bang Theory, was that Dungeons and Dragons was a game for nerdy straight men who also are often kind of mean? But if I’ve learned anything in the three years since my friend Taylor turned me on to Critical Role, and playing the game myself, it’s that straight D&D and queer D&D are two totally different games.

Take, for example, Meg Jones Wall, who is writing this post with me. I had met her through mutual friends at A-Camp but didn’t really get to know her until we started playing D&D together. Now we play in-game exes and she’s dating someone who plays her character’s fictional messy crush in an entirely different campaign. And all three of us are in a group chat about Taylor Swift. The lines between fantasy and reality are so often blurred in Queer D&D — and while in a straight game that might felt stressful or damaging, within these games it instead feels therapeutic.

But I digress. Meg and I are here today to discuss the queerest moments of Critical Role in 2020, which entirely center around two confirmed disaster lesbians. Marisha Ray and Ashley Johnson have chosen to play queer characters, and this year we are finally seeing real steps towards an actual, canon, in-game relationship.

Both women play their characters with such depth and complexity that it feels impossible to me that they’re not pulling at least a little from experience (side note: if Marisha or Ashley happen to be reading this, Autostraddle is the perfect outlet for the “queer-women-in-a-male/female relationship” convo if you’ve just been waiting for the right platform… our DMs are open) but even if they’re not, their characters feel authentic and dorky and sweet and super fun to watch.

We are going to rank our personal top ten gayest moments of 2020. (It feels worth reminding everyone, since time is fake, and I had to look it up myself, that the Reani stuff all happened in 2019.)

Let’s roll!

Yasha carries Beau, Episode 102

A wounded Beau asks Yasha to carry her back from a battle, and she obliges, and is oblivious to the fact that, during the walk, Beau and Jester are having a mimed conversation about how strong Yasha is and how good she smells.

Meg: Beau consistently asking Yasha to carry her, hold her, and fly around with her has been one of my favorite recurring flirty gags from this campaign, and watching her acknowledge it with Jester (a sweetly adorkable character that Beau has also acknowledging having a crush on) felt like it really shifted the narrative of this flirtation from never gonna happen to unless…?

Valerie: I love it too especially since Marisha is so tall and Ashley is so smol so the fact that Ahsley’s huge barbarian is lifting Marisha’s monk is so fun to me. That’s another thing that’s fun in D&D, you get to flirt in ways you can’t in real life!

Yasha sees the mirror above Beau’s bed, Episode 111

When showing them around the mansion he designed for them, Caleb reveals that there’s a mirror above Beau’s bed. Yasha peeks at it and dryly, confidently, says, “That’s going to be useful.” Beau declares Caleb her best friend on the spot. Jester nearly loses her mind in a giggle-fit.

Meg: I screamed. Loudly. And then watched this moment 100 more times.

Valerie: I feel like I texted you in all caps at this point. I also had to rewatch but mostly to make sure I heard them correctly. Absolute perfection.

Meg: Ashley is so good at those clever, quiet little lines, and this is one of her best.

Yasha flies with Beau, Episode 106

Yasha uses her newly feathered wings to fly for the first time, and takes Beau with her. It’s very romantic. And awkward.

Valerie: Hey remember that one time in our campaign that our characters still hadn’t worked out their shit so everything was tense but then I levitated with you like Supergirl carrying Lena Luthor? Good times, good times.

Meg: That was hot.

Valerie: My character has so much more game than I do.

•“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵”
“𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳”•#criticalrolefanart #criticalrole #cr #beau #yasha pic.twitter.com/d9nO9cIxtI

— JMNP art (@jmnp7888) August 24, 2020

Beau talks about her crush on her family’s chef, Episode 118

During a conversation about whether Veth’s young son could have a crush or not, Beau tells the party about remembering feeling starry-eyed about her family’s personal chef. “Yeah, I probably wouldn’t have had that first boyfriend if I would’ve connected that I was having, like, ‘Oh, she’s really hot,’ type of feelings.” She also could not for the life of her remember said boyfriend’s name, but remembered her first girlfriend’s name, Tori.

Valerie: This moment felt so real, so authentic. I feel like every one of my queer friends and I have had a conversation like this, something from our childhood that we only realize in hindsight was absolutely a sign we weren’t straight. Like how I used to kiss the trading card of Kimberly the Pink Ranger goodnight every night.

Meg: Couldn’t agree more. This felt like such a real moment, one that just solidifies how authentic Beau’s queerness is – not just a casual choice made for punchlines but something deeply embedded in this character. Even the fact that Marisha couldn’t remember the name she wrote for the boyfriend but immediately knew Tori’s name was absolutely correct. (Also, a hot chef? I see you, Beau.)

Beau says the ball is in Yasha’s court, Episode 109

While dancing with Beau, Jester tells her that she thinks it’s romantic that Yasha told Beau she was glad she didn’t kill her, and Beau asks if Jester thinks Yasha likes her. Jester gives her an emphatic yes, but Beau says the ball is in Yasha’s court. “You know, because she’s the one with the dead wife.”

Valerie: Is there anything queerer than talking to your former crush about your (or their) current crush?

Meg: Especially when there’s a complicated ex involved. Beau isn’t wrong here, and it felt like a real moment of character growth that she knows with absolute clarity that this is not Beau’s decision to make. I firmly believe that Beau and Yasha are both bottoms, but this isn’t about making the first move or power dynamics – it’s about acknowledging trauma and respecting the time it takes to move on and be ready for a new relationship, and I loved Beau for it.

Valerie Anne: I also loved Jester’s follow up, that even if Beau is leaving the ball in Yasha’s court, Beau can still open things up to make sure Yasha knows that. The ball being in someone else’s court doesn’t have to mean complete inaction, she could still take steps to make sure Yasha knew she’d be open to it if Yasha DID want to make that move without taking that first move herself.

Meg: That felt like such a good and wise insight from Jester, since it allowed Beau to feel like she could still flirt and make her interest in Yasha clear while ALSO potentially reassuring Yasha that she isn’t alone in her feelings. They’ve both been so tentative, so slow to act, and while a lot of that has been due to their personalities and trauma, I think they are also both a little unsure about the other person’s desires. As someone that never thinks anyone is interested in them romantically, I deeply appreciated the kindness in this advice, and the ways that it made space for both of them to be strong and sure in their choices.

Beau tells Fjord about her crush on Yasha, Episode 108

Not unlike when Beau got drunk and confessed her crush on Jester to Nott this year, Beau got drunk and confessed her feelings about Yasha to Fjord.
MARISHA: I think– it’s easy to lust after Jester because she’s… sparkles and confetti and shiny. There was something about Yasha from the moment that I saw her…that I think I’ve been avoiding. I don’t know. ”

Meg: Who doesn’t love a drunk confession of love? This conversation was so sweet and self-aware, and I really appreciated that even while drunk, Beau managed to respect Fjord’s obvious feelings for Jester while also acknowledging her connections to both women. Her crush on Jester felt very genuine, but what she feels for Yasha clearly goes beyond that, and I love that she held space for both truths simultaneously.

Valerie: One horrifying thing I learned about D&D is that not every game has deep, meaningful RP like this? Which for me is at least half the point, if not more. I love when the Critical Role crew takes time to have conversations like this, moments that don’t necessarily move the plot or arc along, or aren’t about strategy or next steps, but are just about their own character’s evolutions and their interpersonal relationships. And I totally agree, I loved the way she talked about both women; and I can relate to that, a fun crush vs a serious crush. And how sometimes the fun crush is easier to latch onto because you have more stake in the serious crush.

Meg: I have heard that too. The horror! I’ve been so lucky to be in multiple D&D groups that have made space for intense vulnerability from players, where we’ve managed to create a really rich sense of trust in each other that allows for deep conversations between characters. I love so many things about this game, from the combat to the puzzles to the endless choices, but getting to RP with friends has been a really incredible gift. I never thought I would enjoy it as much as I do, but it’s such a big part of all of my games now that I can’t imagine playing without it.

Yasha writes a poem for Beau, Episode 112

Jester, the captain of the BeauYasha ship, encourages Yasha to go for Beau by perhaps writing her a poem. Chaos ensues.

Meg: It’s no secret that I have major do-I-want-to-do-her-or-be-her feelings about Yasha, but this conversation had me absolutely howling with laughter. Ashley’s delivery is so good, Jester is so eager and sweet and anxious to help, and the resulting poem is just ridiculous. But I loved Yasha’s desire to take that big next step, to make a declaration, to try to open a line of conversation that’s acknowledging the undercurrents that have literally been there since the beginning of the campaign. And making it a fully awkward, perfect disaster? Icing on the cake.

Valerie: I was cry-laughing at this part. I think Ashley is a more cautious role-player, but also a really thoughtful one, so this pairing was perfect because Jester was able to pull information from Yasha and let us in on how she’s really feeling while keeping the scene organic and playful and truly chaotic.

Beau reads Yasha’s poem, Episode 115

Beau reads the paper Yasha gave her, and the chaotic beginnings of a poem are scribbled out and instead there’s a beautiful letter inside about the things Yasha has noticed about Beau that she likes. An excerpt: “You stick up for the people you love, and you make me feel stronger. I can hold my own. I know that you know that, but you make me feel safe. I don’t even know if that makes sense. But I know, no matter what, you’ll have my back, no questions asked.”

Valerie: When Beau sank all the way down into the bathtub…I felt that.

Meg: I think I fully left my body during this scene. I loved how deliberate Marisha was with it, showing that Beau knew how significant this letter would be and preparing with wine and a bath. It was such a big step for Yasha, and Beau knew it.

Valerie: I think also Beau grew up in a family that wasn’t big on platitudes, always feeling kind of overlooked and underestimated, which I think is why she latched on to Fjord so quickly, because he’s so patient and supportive. And I think that’s maybe one reason why this letter hit Beau so hard and why she wasn’t jumping up and down and punching things with joy but instead crying in the bathtub and holding her breath until her lungs burned. Someone she cared about noticed her, and it’s a big deal. Someone saw all the strength in her she fought for, all the good in her she’s constantly doubting. Someone saw her.

I know a million people already did this one, but I just really wanted to draw it anyway. #beauyasha #criticalrole #criticalroleart #criticalrolefanart #criticalrolespoilers pic.twitter.com/7ea7RZE84l

— Vic Iddstar Hill (@Iddstar) November 11, 2020

Yasha has a vision of her dead wife, Episode 105

Yasha has a vision in which she hears the voice of her dead wife. She makes the decision to move away from the voice and hears her wife call out to her, “I’m proud of you. Don’t let me be a shackle.”” When she wakes up, her wings are full and feathered again.

Meg: Fucking hell, this scene. I don’t even know how to talk about this. It felt like every single person at the table was holding their breath, and that moment when Yasha actually says goodbye to her wife, and chooses to move forward? When she accepts her wife’s blessing? Whew.

Valerie: I loved the way Matt did this, and how the way he set it up, it seemed like there was going to be another tragic goodbye, but when Yasha chose to move on, actually getting that approval? The “I’m proud of you”? Whew, indeed.

Beau asks Yasha out on a date, Episode 120

To finish off 2020, in the final episode before their holiday hiatus, Marisha gave us all a gift by having Beau ask Yasha on a date. They’re both extremely nervous and overly cautious and it’s very pure and sweet.

Meg: This whole conversation was absolute perfection, with full buy-in from both Marisha and Ashley, and I could not love it more. The looks on everyone’s faces around the table, the joy between them both, the pride that Beau had, the little strut Yasha left with – I absolutely fucking loved it. And the fact that Yasha immediately hedged her bets, preemptively saying that if it didn’t work out they could still be friends, was so unbearably similar to what I said when my girlfriend and I first got together that I felt a little offended. Sometimes representation is too close to home, you feel me?

Valerie: THEY’RE BOTH SO AWKWARD AND I LOVE THEM. I was like “these disaster lesbians are going to be the death of me” and it looked like everyone else at the table agreed.

Honorable mentions: Yasha calling the fish market her favored terrain, Caduceus confirms he is ace/aro, Nott/Veth’s trans-coded story, Wildmother is a queer goddess, Matt regularly introducing NPCs that use they/them pronouns

Meg: FAVORED. TERRAIN.

Valerie: Jokes like that are how I know that being queer isn’t just a box Ashley and Marisha checked for their characters. Like you said earlier, it’s so embedded. They make little side comments like this all the time and it’s exactly how we talk amongst friends and it makes me squeal with glee every single time. It’s how I know that even if they’re not queer themselves, they have queer friends and are consuming queer content and this isn’t just lip service. And similarly, it felt like Sam wasn’t playing the Nott/Veth story as a joke, he really tapped into her pain about the whole situation.

Meg: I think the Nott/Veth story was really beautiful, and while I’m cis and don’t feel qualified to unpack it in too much detail, I’ve loved reading comments from trans and non-binary CR fans about how closely they’ve identified with her story. I also deeply, deeply loved Caduceus acknowledging in-game that he’s ace – Taliesin has confirmed that on Talks before, but I was so excited to see it actually come out in a session, in a way that felt really lovely and organic.

Dungeons & Dragons: A Great Place to Be Queer

Last Friday, I clicked open one of my favorite Zoom invites to find a stunningly gorgeous group of humans, each in various stages of applying their bold lip of choice or replenishing their beverage of choice. After the requisite period of catching up, which for us mostly means talking about food, we started playing Dungeons & Dragons.

On this occasion, that meant reminding my friends that their ragtag crew was standing in an enchanted wood with a gnome druid, a man who looked like a cow, his boyfriend, and some talking mushrooms. They told me what they wanted to do (it was to ask for the meet-cute between the cow-man and his boyfriend), and just like that we were off. Conversation may have veered to vibrators, bisexual lighting, Cosmo quizzes and what Muppet each of us is (I’m Rolf with Scooter rising, if you’re curious), but the ostensible reason for the Zoom was to do fantasy roleplay with an astonishingly sex-positive, queer-centric, intense chemistry-having group of people.

When this group got started in early May, each of us was meeting at least one person for the very first time. Now, we group-text with what Anna Drezen helpfully termed “the unsustainably horny rush of making a new friend.” We would probably love each other no matter what, but the reason we play D&D and not Jackbox, the reason we are so deeply into one another’s deals right now, is that together we’ve created a magical story in a magical world that doesn’t exist without us. In these messy Zoom nights, we’re a goth teenager with healing spells, a socially inept wizard whose hair is fire, a try-hard folk hero who just really wants to do a good job, a bear-worshipping half-orc tank, a cagey forger with some demon blood, and the gay mythical creatures they meet along the way. I love them with the passion of a thousand fiery suns.

Most of the rest of the time, I’m a bisexual mom who is married to a man and does regular adult things like work at a job, make out with my husband and read my daughter bedtime stories. I love all of these things fiercely, but having an established straight-presenting home life means it takes a little extra effort to be, essentially, out. Running this game gives me the opportunity to let my bi side play consistently, openly, and in community, and D&D’s roleplaying and worldbuilding aspects offer unlimited ways to lean into my queer identity. Not only has queer D&D been valuable and healing for me, other DMs and players have similar experiences!

Backing things up slightly, let’s quickly define some terms. Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) is one of the first table-top role playing games (TTRPGs) ever, and was first developed by Gary Gygax in 1974. In the years since then, it’s enjoyed a spot in popular culture as a thing nerds and weirdos like to do, being featured in episodes of Community, Buffy, The Simpsons, and most recently and especially, Stranger Things. In D&D, players create characters based on a variety of races (think everyone in the Lord of the Rings) and classes (wizard, fighter, ranger, etc.), and then play out an adventure (commonly known as a campaign) as those characters. This can take anywhere from a single night to literal years, and usually consists of the players fighting monsters, getting treasure, solving puzzles, catching bad guys, and getting progressively more fond and protective of each other. The adventure is laid out by a Dungeon Master (DM), a person who narrates the story for the players and fills in as every non-playing character (NPC) and monster they meet. At its best, D&D gameplay is tender, stressful, silly, triumphant, and very fun. Also there are dice, and dice are very beautiful and satisfying to roll.

Photo credit Meg Jones Wall

I started playing D&D about six years ago at the invitation of a board gaming friend, who asked my husband and I to join a campaign using the game’s then-new Fifth Edition. With him as DM, we’d be adventuring in a party with two other board gaming buddies, both also dudes. At the time, my total understanding of the game was that there would be elves and fighting, and that I desperately did not want to look like a noob in front of my friends.

To remedy this, I chose to enter the campaign as a Dragonborn Barbarian. Dragonborns are literal dragon-people with weaponized breath and tough skin who are not really known for emoting. Barbarians are usually kind of dumb, very strong, and they don’t do a lot of magic (which has more in-game rules). I loved my gruff, beefy dragon guy—still do, actually—but despite my efforts to come into the game as well-armored as possible, roleplay still felt extremely vulnerable. The first time I tried to speak in character and my scary barbarian used my speaking voice, I wanted to crawl right under that rickety kitchen table. Pretty much the whole time, I remained mildly terrified of what I was revealing about myself, because there were a lot of things about myself that I was scared to see. I did have a whole bunch of fun swinging my greataxe, though.

It probably doesn’t need saying, but at the time of this early D&D experience I was not out as bisexual, even to myself. Finding my queerness came later, thanks to lots of gay fantasy books, the “San Junipero” episode of Black Mirror, and realizing that noncommittally muttering “I probably would’ve been bi” just means “internalized homophobia made me to scared to process my feelings for years, and while I’ve worked that stuff out now I’m also happily monogamous with a man so I guess case closed?” In the short time since I’ve enrolled in the Bisexual Academy*, I’ve learned that this experience is extremely common for bi folks.

The lesson in bi identity that I keep having to relearn is that it’s not who you’re with, but who you are. Coming out at the age of 33, I had already defined myself in all kinds of other ways, and done so through actions such as “work at a job, “get married,” “have a child.” While it felt truly wonderful to publicly identify as bi, it also meant that my opportunities to lovingly walk the bisexual walk** would forever be fewer. I had no interest in trying to get involved with someone of the same gender or finding out how this would affect my marriage, which I happen to like a great deal. I just was bi now, and the relief of living that truth would have to be enough.

So I can hardly describe what a revelation it’s been to show up on D&D nights and pretend to be a lesbian half-elf messenger and a pansexual cat-person sex worker, and have both of them flirt with my players. And then a couple sessions later, to be both halves of a gay couple who go on adventures together, and one of them looks kind of like a cow, and everyone is thoroughly smitten by them. Not only smitten, but also fully overcome with curiosity about which one of them is the bottom, to the point where one of them asked if she could roll a “bottom check” to learn the answer (she rolled very well, and the answer is that it’s a little complicated). It’s a fucking blast, is the best I can describe this.

As it turns out, using roleplay as a vehicle for queer exploration is not a rare or brand-new thing. Earlier this year, Linda H. Codega wrote a beautiful article for Tor.com titled, “The Power of Queer Play in Dungeons & Dragons.” They described D&D’s transformative powers from their own experiences:

I began experimenting in earnest with my own gender expression through roleplaying games; first by playing as a boy, then a girl, and then playing as a nonbinary character. The way that I found myself becoming more comfortable with blurring these binary lines of identity was because I had space to experiment in a consequence free container, where I could take on and take off genders in order to find the one that fit me […] When I allowed myself a space to play with the rules of my identity, I was able to come out with confidence, knowing that I had been able to “come out” through playing Dungeons & Dragons.

I also reached out to the members of a LGBTQIA+ D&D Facebook group (which exists!) about their favorite parts of playing queer-centered D&D, and found that a lot of us find pleasure in similar things.

“It’s really comforting to play in an LGBT group,” says Maddy, a bisexual woman who’s been playing D&D for a year and has just started DMing. “I never really got to be super open about my sexuality in my teen years and while I was more open about it in college, I was definitely still closeted in certain parts of my life. Now I’m definitely the most out I’ve been and really getting to goof/play around with my sexuality more in game.”

Holly is a bisexual player whose DM husband roleplays as women love interests for her in-game. She got so invested in the characters’ relationship that she started making art of the two of them together. “Being so inspired to draw, and wanting to post and talk about my art, lead me to coming out as bi to my family,” Holly said. “It’s such a relief to not be hiding anymore, and a big part is my D&D characters.”

Holly’s tiefling Elian and the NPC Reya Mantlemorn from Baldur’s Gate: Descent into Avernus. @tarotvixen on Instagram

Getting to periodically exist in a world that welcomes you just as you are is a pretty special thing. In particular, being a queer DM is hugely gratifying, because I get to shape every inch of that world, giving it a culture where being queer is so supremely regular it’s boring. The moment I realized one of my NPCs could be married to a woman and having a fling with a man and that everyone was chill about this arrangement BECAUSE I DECIDED IT was honestly mind blowing. Who owns that tavern? Two gay half-dwarves. Who’s the most powerful person in this town? A polyamorous lesbian dwarf. Who’s the captain of the guard? An enby ace half dwarf (this campaign setting happens to have a lot of dwarves). Who gets to roleplay as all of them? Me. I do. I get to. And the best part is, I don’t feel mortified about what I might be revealing each time I step into a new skin, because I’m comfortable with all of it.

Another of my esteemed Facebook colleagues, who identifies as queer/ace/aro, enjoys the chance to live in a space that leaves romance out of the equation completely. “It’s nice because [the campaign is] more story focused than romance and that kinda drama focused which I really like. That being said our characters are often pretty close friends […] Basically sexuality is just no big deal which is really nice.”

For others, worldbuilding has become an opportunity for friends who aren’t queer to broaden their own horizons. Longtime DM, writer and player Stephanie is bi and trans, and her D&D group consists of mostly cis het guys. “My favorite part,” she says, “is through me and [my friend] these cishet white boys are starting to include more gay, more trans, more queer NPCs in the games they run and in their PCs as well! … I love watching them grow.”

When we’re open to it, giving ourselves honest space to roleplay can be pretty powerful stuff. And also, I cannot stress enough how fun it is to pretend-attack something with a greataxe.

*The Bisexual Academy is real. It is. Ask any bisexual.
**The bisexual walk is also real, I believe. Accounts differ.

Dice for Every Kind of Queer Dungeons & Dragons Player

There are a lot of reasons to get into D&D. With roleplaying games making a resurgence, queer people in particular have found countless opportunities for community, fantasy, and world-building within these incredible and diverse gaming platforms. We can be anyone that we want to be, giving ourselves magical powers, incredible strength, and whatever pronouns, names, and bodies feel right for us. It’s truly a gift, and if you’re lucky enough to find yourself a group of people that you can explore with, the temptation to stay in those worlds forever is very, very real.

But one of the most enduring pleasures of the game is a simple one — buying dice. Small, shiny, and so very pretty, RPG dice are infinitely collectible. Whether you want the resounding thud of a giant metal d20 or prefer the delicate grace of teeny tiny acrylic sets, whether you color-coordinate your dice to each character or keep them all jumbled in one giant bag that’s large enough to store tools in, the craving for new sets never really goes away. And while I’m sure there are players out there that only use one or two sets and are able to somehow withstand the endless temptation to buy more, why would you deny yourself this one simple pleasure? Friend, you deserve some gorgeous dice to roll when you’re storming the castle, arguing with a dragon, or flirting with that drow chick that your DM refuses to rank on a scale of hotness (but you’re confident is an 11).

We all play a little differently. I’m the annoying one who wants to look into every nook and cranny, roll arcana checks every five minutes, and steal books. Heather likes talking to animals and is the only one in our party who manages to be nice to strangers; Nic is an absolute badass in combat and can take out powerful enemies with just a few hits; Smita refuses to share her clever warlock’s rogue-like backstory but clearly has some juicy secrets; and Valerie takes meticulous and hilarious notes that have saved our asses on multiple occasions. No matter the adventure, dice are both mandatory for play and a constant source of delight. And no matter what kind of character you play or player you become, there’s a set of dice out there that are perfect for you.

Behold, dice porn in the form of a vague personality test: dice for every kind of queer D&D player.

The Investigator

1 / Aurora borealis set 2 / Clear quartz engraved gemstone set 3 / Iconic white set  4 / Opalite gemstone set from Critical Role 5 / Pearly gates set  6 / Synthetic clear quartz gemstone set

Always thoroughly examining door frames, looking under beds, and checking for traps, this player relies on high perception and constant awareness to find every little thing that may be lurking. They also may be the best notetaker at the table. Clear or white dice are a great fit as these colors are associated with safety and protection, and clear quartz in particular specifically aids in manifestation and perception.

The Bleeding Heart

1 / Paladin’s virtue glitter set 2 / Gold dust set 3 / Gold starlight set 4 / Dwarven satin gold set 5 / Lotus eaters pink metal set 6 / Rose quartz set

Ready to save every animal, child, and injured person they find, this player is known for their kindness and compassion, potentially both inside and outside the game. And while this tendency sometimes backfires, often this player encourages their group to form allies and build communities, leading to encounters that would never happen otherwise. Pale pink dice may help amplify love for the self and community, while gold dice can boost both compassion and courage. And if you’re ready for a splurge, rose quartz dice are just about perfect.

The Hothead

1 / Aged bronze metal set 2 / Graphite set 3 / Mini trial by fire metal set 4 / Critical failure set 5 / Ancient iron set 6 / Mechanical style set
More interested in throwing punches than asking questions, this is someone that isn’t afraid to charge forward and get a little messy. They may be impulsive and could sometimes cause some conflicts or fights that shift the narrative, but they also get shit done and make strong, decisive character choices. Plus, it’s always great to have someone on the front lines who isn’t afraid to take a few hits. Go for heavy, metal dice that feel powerful and decisive, especially since iron is connected to physical strength and grey can bring a sense of stoic calm.

The Charmer

1 / Vortex burgundy set 2 / Fragments of the sun set 3 / Hematite gemstone set 4 / Molten core set 5 / Rose petal set 6 / Crimson midnight set
Regardless of their character building choices or final charisma score, this player is the first to speak up when an NPC asks a question, the one most confident in their ability to negotiate or persuade. Whether they’re sharing jokes to lighten the mood or pouring on the charm and compliments, this is someone that can help smooth over difficult conversations and get even the most bristly character on their side. Utilize some distractingly beautiful or sparkly dice, especially if they’re burgundy or maroon, colors that are tied to ambition and creativity.

The Newbie

1 / Black and gold set with pen 2 / Mystic unicorn set 3 / Sapphire skies set 4 / Hops beer set from artisan dice 5 / Night circus set 6 / Shards of night set
Eager to use their newly discovered spells and anxious to prove themselves, newbies often fall into two camps: hesitant to make a mistake or eager to see exactly what they can do. Whether they’re using brand new spells or double-checking their options during combat, it can be so much fun to watch someone realize just how much is possible during a game. Any dice color that makes them feel brave and empowered is perfect for newbies, especially sets that come with multiple D20s for advantage and disadvantage throws. (Warn them that constantly buying dice comes with the territory, and watch them excitedly reveal a new set at every session.)

The Creative

1 / Amethyst gemstone set 2 / Stone of the princess set 3 / Synthetic turquoise gemstone set 4 / Purple heart wooden set 5 / Ethereal phoenix set 6 / Sunset set

Utilizing spells in unexpected ways or coming up with surprising and delightful methods to outsmart NPCs and puzzles, this player approaches problems and conflicts in ways that showcase the brilliance of the game, encouraging others to think outside the box and try new things. Their ideas may not always pan out, but they bring delight to every table, and may cause your DM to laugh, sigh, or go diving for the PHB. Go for brilliant gemstones like amethyst that boost ambition, or orange dice that can provide extra warmth and determination.

The Strategist

1 / Cleric’s domain metal set 2 / Center arc metal set 3 / Silver and blue metal set 4 / Cadet blue set 5 / Archimedes set 6 / Dragon red and black set

Drawing maps, asking thoughtful questions, and making plans for the future, this player is always thinking ten steps ahead of the current conflict. Brilliant with the structure of the game while able to think beyond RAW, the strategist is an invaluable part of any team. Also takes great notes, with special attention to detail. Framed out metal dice or another set that’s easy to read are great for this player, with blue tones connecting to stability and red amplifying leadership and willpower.

The Storyteller

1 / Coral fossil set 2 / Holy weapon set 3 / Purple fluorite gemstone dice 4 / Faux coral set 5 / Freshly squeezed set 6 / Topaz black magic set

Creative, engaging, and brilliant at role-playing, this person fully sinks into whatever character they’re playing. They spot hooks and clues, dialogue beautifully with other players, and help keep the narrative moving in fun and inclusive ways. If you’re lucky, this person is also your DM. Yellow dice can bring a sense of joy and positivity, and coral dice can help with creativity. And for the fanciest game masters, don’t miss these purple fluorite gemstone dice, which can aid in both balance and quick decision-making.

Which kind of player are you, and what types of players did I miss? What are your favorite dice to roll, and which sets are you lusting over? Let us know in the comments!

Dungeons & Dragons Healed My Grown-Up Heart By Making Me Feel Like the Kid I Never Got to Be

Feature image via Dice Critters

A few months ago, a half-elf in tattered armor, equipped with two dull short swords and one ornate dagger, went charging into a stone corridor trapped with whirling steel blades and chomping stone pillars. Her adventuring party, all of whom she’d just met, was forced to rush in after her, lest they be trapped outside the cave where they sought the treasure of the fish people, on account of the stone door began closing as soon as the half-elf blitzed in. The adventurers took turns getting knocked out, dashing back and forth to pick up their unconscious compatriots, scrambling forward, and getting bonked on the head or slashed in the knees and falling flattened again. When the exhausted troop finally made it through the 80-foot long nightmare den, Toven, the skilled and surly high-elf wizard who’d managed to skirt past the fear rune, grabbed the half-elf and said, “Don’t ever do that again!”

The half-elf grinned and apologized, but wasn’t sorry.

The half-elf was me.

Only a few weeks before that, during my very first tabletop roleplaying adventure, my wood elf ranger casually picked up what was a very clearly a very cursed bell; rang it; and sprouted a pair of donkey ears — and that’s when I became hooked on Dungeons & Dragons.

I’m a reformed perfectionist. Okay, fine — I just heard my therapist’s eyebrow pop up from across the island of Manhattan — I’m a perfectionist in the very early stages of identifying the causes of my perfectionism and working to untangle them. I’m a recovering perfectionist. I’m also a person who takes on way, way, way too much responsibility for everyone and everything in my line of sight and in my periphery; refusing to ask for help, to delegate, or even to just say, “Hey, actually, no, that’s your thing; you carry it.” I’m hyper-aware of every emotion of every person and animal around me, an empath you might say. And listen, it’s not bad that I want to do things well. It’s not bad to want to use my power, strength, and privilege in the world to ease the burdens of other people. It’s not bad that I can sense other people’s pain or that I instinctively know how to comfort them. But when you add those personality traits together and factor in a kid who never got to be a kid, who was forced to parent a parent, who grew up being punished for trying to set boundaries or say no, it’s a recipe for a catastrophically anxious life.

No one ever believed me when I said I didn’t play D&D. Three of my lifelong favorite things are fantasy stories, video games, and hanging out with other nerds. But the D&D Player’s Handbook is an 11-inch by 9-inch tome, containing 300 pages full of math and magic rules and dense histories of every kind of elf or dwarf of dragonborn you can imagine. Appendixes describing the myriad ways a person can be incapacitated, lists of deities and explanations of their theologies, a chart to tell you what’s in your pocket, a diagram of the PLANES OF EXISTENCE. And then there are the dice. Seven of them, one of them with 20 entire sides, that tell you, through various combinations of rolls, whether or not you hit that rat when you hacked at it with your sword, how hard you hit the rat, and whether or not the rat poisoned you when it bit you when you tried to dart away.

I’ve watched my best friends fall in love with Critical Role. I’ve watched my sister start collecting dice like a hobby. I’ve read essays and tweets and newsletters and listened to real-life conversations between people I love talking about how D&D helped them explore their sexuality and gender and desires in transformative ways they’d never expected when they first sat down with a character sheet to build a femme halfling bard or a bisexual gnome rogue or a bucth orc paladin. All of it seemed so fun, but I always had work to do; I couldn’t carve out a whole day to play a game. And anyway, I wasn’t going to be good at it, and my inability to be good at it was going to get everyone playing with me mauled to death by a pack of frost trolls.

Not very long ago, during one of the most stressful weeks of my life, my therapist demanded that I take a weekend off. Demanded it! And it just so happened that my friends were putting together a D&D one-shot. And it just so happened that it was being DM-ed by my pal Austen, who had been trying to get me to join one of their games for years. And it just so happened that Austen said the one thing to me that could actually convince me to play: You can’t be bad at it.

That wasn’t exactly true. I needed a lot of help. (Seven dice, okay??) But by the time my adventuring group had left the pub to visit the monastery for geographical information and do recon on the wizard’s house that contained the vase we needed to steal, it didn’t matter that I didn’t know what I was doing. I was lost in my character. Lost in the story. I mostly just watched and offered the rope and gold in my pockets and attacked when I had to. But after we knocked out the wizard and tied him up and stuffed him in a closet and ransacked his house and arrived in the room with those cursed bells, I didn’t do what Heather Hogan would do. I didn’t tell everyone to stay behind me, to not worry because I had it under control. I didn’t analyze the body language and facial expressions and breathing patterns of everyone in my group to determine what they were feeling, or take their feelings on and make them my feelings, or try to fix what was causing them stress. I didn’t try to solve the puzzle by myself. I didn’t try to solve the puzzle at all.

I walked into the obviously trapped room and scooped up the obviously hexed bell and clanged it. Valerie shook her head. Meg laughed. Toven, the skilled and surly high elf wizard, rolled her eyes. Somebody at the table snapped a picture of me as Austen described my morphing donkey ears. I look like a little kid on Christmas morning. I couldn’t have told you, before that moment, the last time I did something, even in a game, without weighing the opportunity-cost to everyone around me, just because it looked like fun.

My wood elf ranger is dressed like Dimitri from Anastasi, my second soft butch fashion icon (after Marty McFly). She won’t kill someone if she can just knock them out. She let a kobold ride around on her shoulders the whole time she was exploring the Sunless Citadel. She tried to cast Animal Friendship on an evil frog. That’s all me. But she doesn’t try to solve riddles or lead the way into or out of danger or take responsibility for finding or counting or distributing loot. She doesn’t check for traps. She hangs back and lets other people make decisions and decide how to deal with the consequences. She drinks potions that might kill her and opens doors into rooms that are absolutely haunted. She’s reckless and innocent and has never experienced a moment of anxiety in her life.

I named my wood elf Antsi because that’s how I felt when I was building her, before I ever sat down at a table with my friends to play D&D, before I rang that silly bell.

Antsi recently became a level three ranger, which means she can get better at fighting big enemies or she can get an animal companion. I asked, at the end of our last game, if an animal companion can die. Our DM said yes. Hannah and Meg and Valerie and Smita and Nic exchanged nervous glances. Probably because they don’t need another living thing to worry about healing in battle and they know I would leave them all to die to save an imaginary bear. But also probably because they don’t want me to be sad if my imaginary bear gets eaten by a werewolf.

And I guess that’s the thing about D&D, isn’t it? That you get to spend seven hours at a table with people who love you for exactly who you are, and who let you pretend, for just a little while, to be someone else entirely.

Queering D&D: How “Critical Role” Helped Me Find My Way

If you had told me two years ago that someday one of my top five favorite things to watch would be a bunch of (self-proclaimed) nerdy-ass voice actors playing Dungeons & Dragons live for 4-5 hours every week, I would have laughed in your face. I barely even knew what D&D was; the entirety of my knowledge came from Big Bang Theory (and media like it), so I assumed it was for very nerdy, women-fearing and/or women-hating straight men shouting rules about magic at each other. What place would a queer woman have in that?

But then, toward the end of 2017 my friend Taylor started sending me gifs of these very cute nerdy girls and telling me about this show she’s obsessed with called Critical Role. I was knee-deep in scripted series but she mounted a patient defense and a steady attack of gifs, stories, and clips. Her goal was to prime me and convince me to watch by the time the new campaign started in early 2018, but she severely underestimated the pull of the Keyleth vs the Cliff clip, so she sent me a one-shot that involved some of Critical Role’s main players so I could get a sense of what an episode would feel like.

And at first it felt a little like they were speaking a different language – I had never heard the term “D20” and what the hell is an “arcana check” anyway? – but before long two things stood out to me: D&D is about storytelling, and those stories can be as queer as you want them to be.

While not a regular part of the Critical Role cast, the one-shot in question guest starred Ashly Burch, who you might recognize as the voice of queer icon Chloe Price in Life is Strange. In this one-shot, her character was in love with regular-cast-member Laura Bailey’s character. We learn this almost as soon as the game begins, and as soon as I realized it, it felt a little like someone came and unlocked the door to a wing of my house I didn’t even know was there. I had so much to learn, and boi do I love learning.

The ladies of Critical Role, my beautiful nerds.

So instead of waiting for the new campaign, I dove headfirst into the nearly 500 hours worth of gameplay from the first Critical Role campaign, Vox Machina. Now spanning more than one sitting or one mission, the storytelling was even more apparent. The livestreamed campaign had started as a home game beforehand, so the players were already comfortable with each other, the characters already established, and since the players were all voice actors, they’re really in it. So it’s not only storytelling and acting, but also during the moments they’re not in character, there are moments of true friendship. There were men and women, queer and straight, and throughout the game, whether it was the Dungeon Master Matt Mercer playing non-player side characters (NPCs) or guests (like Lumberjanes and She-Ra creator Noelle Stevenson who played the butch and badass Tova), there were characters of all races (in the way we understand race as being about where you’re from, and also in the way the fantasy realm classifies it as being about whether you’re an elf or a gnome), and sexualities. There was no gatekeeping or shaming and even though these adorable nerds had been playing the game for years, they still had to ask questions like “which dice do I roll for that?” and the DM is patient with all of them.

While I was home for Christmas that year, I was watching episodes of the Vox Machina campaign every time I found myself alone, and sometimes even when I wasn’t. My parents and brother all asked in turn what I was watching, and they all scoffed when I told them I was watching people I don’t know play D&D. And while the concept itself is a little out-there, I admit, it was the way they said, “As in Dungeons & Dragons?” that irked me. I couldn’t hold it against them, because I had been the same way mere months before. No, I held more issue with the toxic culture that has followed the game through time.

The cast of Critical Role certainly aren’t the first open-minded group of players ever. It wasn’t exclusively a boys’ game—in fact, Matt’s mom even played—but it was portrayed that way. I can’t say how toxic actually playing with men was, but I can say that what I heard, and what I saw on TV or in movies, didn’t make me feel like it was the kind of game I’d feel comfortable playing, or even talking about outside carefully curated groups.

Of course by the time I clocked 24 hours of Critical Role, I was ready to play D&D myself. My friend said maybe someday we could start a game, and listed some of our mutual friends who would be interested. And I realized it would be a game of all queer women. Taylor helped me build my first character, and she was queer as heck. In September, I played my first one-shot, DM’d by fellow Autostraddler Jenna, with her wife Steph and Dufrau as fellow adventurers. D&D is about storytelling, and queer people have plenty of amazing stories to tell.

When Critical Role’s second campaign started in January 2018, I had no idea what it would come to mean to me. It was just a new and fun thing to see these same actors playing brand new characters. But 2018 ended up being a really shitty year. For the world at large, and for me on a personal level. But as my year got worse, Critical Role got better. Marisha Ray’s character Beau was coded queer from the start but I wasn’t sure if it was me projecting…until it was made clear she very much is queer.

Marisha is constantly perched on my heart.

Ashly Burch guested again, for a multi-episode arc, and played queer again. Ashley Johnson’s character is also queer. And on top of all that, there was still this underlying sense that these actors, every one of them, was having fun. They seemed to love each other and truly enjoy playing this silly, nerdy game together. They just happened to be livestreaming to hundreds of thousands of people.

They dressed up as NPCs for Halloween because of course they did.

Critical Role became my happy place. The days where real life felt too hard, and writing felt too hard, and scripted TV felt too hard, Critical Role was a soft place to land. Or, if I’m being dramatic, it was the pressure on the wounds during a time I felt like I was getting a new wound weekly. But Critical Role was staunching the bleeding, keeping me going, giving me enough joy to fuel me for another day.

I was watching both campaigns concurrently, so I always had as many hours available as I needed. (In fact, I still haven’t finished the Vox Machina campaign…only half a dozen episodes left!) These actors weren’t my friends, but they were each other’s friends, and I took great comfort in that. And I had friends who had already seen these episodes, and me shouting my emotions in their general direction and then responding in kind brought us closer. At this past New York Comic Con, I met Marisha and Laura briefly to get their autographs, and I thanked Marisha for showing me that queer women had a place in D&D, and I thanked Laura for bringing me lightness in a dark year, and they both made eye contact with me and smiled at me and told me they understood that we need all the joy we can get, especially now, and I could tell in their eyes that they really did understand; I felt seen, and I finally, finally, felt like maybe the wounds were starting to heal.

I still can’t explain it, not really. Why I love Critical Role as much as I do. Except to say that D&D is about storytelling. And I love stories.

They love it, too. Promise.

If you want to get into Critical Role, I highly recommend starting with the Mighty Nein campaign. While there is still quite a bit to catch up on, it’s less than 200 hours of gameplay instead of almost 500. And there are always one-shots you can check out to see if watching people play D&D is even your jam. The one I started with is called The Return of Liam (at least on YouTube). If you want to learn the basics of D&D from these very same nerdy-ass voice actors but NOT through the jump-in-the-deep-end method, they have an ongoing series called Handbooker Helper that starts from what the hell those multi-sided dice are about and slowly works up to building a character and beyond.

And if you already know you love D&D but have been waiting for a troll to open a gate for you…wait no more. There’s another way in, and it’s troll-free and proud. Create your own story, and make it as queer as your little heart desires.

Noelle Stevenson & Amy T. Falcone Are Queering Up D&D With Their Kickass Butch Characters

feature image via Kit Buss and Amy T. Falcone.

I wrote a whole introduction to this piece, but I think perhaps we should start, instead, with a quote from Amy T. Falcone, player on Penny Arcade’s C-Team (Thursdays, 3:30-6:30 PST).

“I have definitely been excluded from a campaign because of being “a girl” before. At the time, I was upset but didn’t think to really fight it because I had friends who were excluded from video game tournaments or any other number of things. It seemed par for the course! Does that really come as a surprise? One of my least favorite quotes is by Gary Gygax, the creator of Dungeons & Dragons, “gaming in general is a male thing… Everybody who’s tried to design a game to interest a large female audience has failed. And I think that has to do with the different thinking processes of men and women.” This, along with being profoundly tone deaf and problematic, is the mentality that we are still fighting.”

Falcone is one of the people fighting this mentality the best way I, personally, know how: by being a queer woman playing Dungeons and Dragons in public.

Walnut Dankgrass and Tova, Dungeons and Dragons characters played by Amy T. Falcone and Noelle Stevenson. Art by Amy T. Falcone and Kit Buss.

The age of Twitch has the potential to save nerd culture from itself by portraying a varied and complex notion of “gamer” to the community at large. There are so many different sorts of streamers that it’s hard to define anything as narrowly as Gygax did when he conceptualized Dungeons and Dragons; it evolved from war games, a particularly white, male, hetero- and cis- centric corner of the nerd universe. Heavy on strategy and light on diversity, it would take us years to get to where we are with fifth edition, which portrays the default human as a Black woman in the Player’s Handbook. It took me so long to jump into tabletop RPGs because it was a world that didn’t visibly include me. I’ve never been a joiner where I didn’t think I was wanted — life is just too goddamn short.

Noelle Stevenson, author of National Book Award-nominated Nimona, the comic series Lumberjanes and also an avid player of D&D, jumped in about the same time I did — after things had already started getting better:

“I only just started playing and 5e is the first edition I’ve ever been aware of, and there’s so much female representation throughout that it never felt anything less than natural to me. I haven’t really delved farther into the gaming community than just how I interact with it within my personal friend group. Like, I know so many queer women and so many of them are into D&D. I don’t feel like an outsider. I guess I’m coming in at a good time.”

Stevenson was a two-session guest player on Geek & Sundry’s streamed Dungeons and Dragons game, Critical Role (Thursdays, 7:00 pm PST). Both shows are expanding the definition of what a Dungeons and Dragons game can look like, and they’re also expanding the definition of player and what it means to game. Both Falcone and Stevenson play characters they designed themselves — both queer women also. And Falcone is in hot pursuit of an openly queer storyline. And I do mean hot pursuit. I caught up with both players to talk about what their games look like.

I wanted to know how they wound up on their respective shows—Critical Role is a game between friends that evolved into streamed entertainment and C-Team was explicitly cast by Penny Arcade to be a show from the very beginning. Their processes looked a bit different, and understandably so—Stevenson wound up a guest on the show by virtue of her friendship with Sam Riegal, who plays the (gay) adventurer Taryon Darrington, as well as his original character, Scanlan Shorthalt. Falcone, on the other hand, was selected as part of a cast of players: “At some point, months before being officially invited to join, I was simply asked, ‘Amy, you play D&D, right?’ I responded that not only did I play it, I was INTO it. There was a little back and forth but for the most part, I think our DM, Jerry, had his fantasy team picked and was just hoping we’d say yes.”

I asked both players to tell me a bit about their characters in the context of being queer. Falcone, who plays Walnut Dankgrass, a Druid who is very militantly always on the side of nature, approached her character creation from three axes. First, as a queer woman: “I think I always make my characters queer, because I am and, at this point, I would feel weird consciously making one straight. It just wouldn’t feel right. With Walnut, she just IS queer, there’s no question.” Second, as an aware person at this particular political moment in the United States: “…we started creating our characters right around the time that it became clear our government wasn’t going to make ecological preservation a priority. I was pissed off and wanted to make a wildly nature focused character, of course, a druid was the obvious choice.” And lastly as a gamer:

“When it comes to making builds, I do tend to min/max… to a point. I am heavily into the roleplaying side of things and so I did make some choices with Walnut that are not “optimal” for her build, but make sense with her backstory. I think you have to make compromises. At first, I really was trying to make her a perfectly efficient fighter, but that just doesn’t always go along with the story or who she is. She isn’t perfect, and I don’t think her build needs to be either. Instead of trying to focus on being a tank or a DPS, I just let her situation dictate how she is going to fight. Is she worked up? Angry? Emotionally compromised? Then she’s probably going to turn into a wolf and do a few bites. If she can keep her cool and think it out (hardly ever happens), she has other skills that help dissolve conflict.”

Stevenson had the difficult task of approaching character creation as a queer woman, a gamer and a guest player fitting into someone else’s campaign. So when she sat down with DM Matthew Mercer to create Tova the Blood Hunter, she had a few things vying for her attention. Being a guest in someone else’s world — something that could’ve been quite difficult — she took as a positive, because she got to play with a home-brewed class:

“I wasn’t really sure what kind of character I wanted to play at first—it was only my second character and I wanted to try something different than my first character who was a 20 charisma, 7 strength warlock. I was pretty sure I wanted to be more of a fighter, but I still wanted some spells, so he suggested the Blood Hunter class, and my eyes kind of lit up like a kid with a new toy because Blood Hunter?! Okay!!”

She also had this to say about creating butch characters, and it is Relatable with a capital “r”:

“It’s really hard for me to not play a butch lady character—I like playing different types of characters, but it’s hard to see myself in characters who aren’t some degree of butch lady. I’m so starved for those types of characters that I don’t even think about it, it’s just my first instinct and it kind of always has been.”

As a masculine woman, myself, I have adopted tabletop RPGs as a way of inserting myself into stories where folks like me would not normally be visible. Usually, this is done in the privacy of my own table, but when players like Falcone and Stevenson play these characters publicly on the internet, their choices take on a whole new weight, the same sort of weight that television, movies and books have with regards to the creation of culture. Stevenson, a creator of books and comics, sometimes has to remind herself of the difference:

“I look at everything from such a narrative point of view and I tend to want things to play out in a narrative way. So I’ll have ideas of how other people’s characters should act and how things should play out and then everything just goes to shit. But the cool thing about D&D is how unpredictable it can be! Anything that gets me to loosen up and just let things happen and roll with it is a good thing.”

The tension between private game and public entertainment is often felt when anyone tries to analyze what, exactly, is taking place here. I think it’s okay to let it be complicated, let it be both. And let it be important that we’re seeing queer gamers play queer characters in traditional nerd spaces. One of the delightful byproducts of these two characters is the potential disruption of toxic masculinity in a particular nerd-space that’s sort of famous for it. Which swung my brain in a different, perhaps darker direction; we all know what it’s like to be a woman on the internet, and these nerd spaces are fairly mainstream. Geek and Sundry’s Twitch channel has 19,561,682 total views; Penny Arcade’s has 7,905,947. On YouTube, episodes of Critical Role average between 275,000 and 300,000 views per episode, about the same amount of viewers Orphan Black averages per episode. I asked both players about reactions from the community. Stevenson had nothing but nice things to say about Tova’s reception in the Critical Role community, a group of internet denizens dubbed “Critters.”

“Honestly, the Critical Role community has been nothing but positive to me! They seem like such an enthusiastic bunch and if there’s a mean underside to the fandom I haven’t been exposed to it. I feel really lucky to get to play in their sandbox for a bit – I worried that people would view me with a lot of suspicion, since I’m a rando to most of them, but it honestly was so positive and everyone I interacted with seemed very open towards my presence.”

Falcone, however, has been playing more regularly, with more than a dozen streamed games under her (and Walnut Dankgrass’) belt:

“When I first started, I had forgotten what it’s like to put yourself out there as anything other than your average straight white male in any gaming space. Of course, those who have issues love to let you know how unsatisfactory you are. Some people don’t like how many queer characters or NPCs are in our campaign, or when either of the women on the show talk too much. Anyone feminine in our society is still expected to be quiet, subservient, and apologetic. Of course I’m not going to make myself or my character more palatable for anyone else’ sake. That’s just not going to happen. I do have to say, those negative voices consistently get drowned out by the outpouring of love and support from other viewers. The response has been absolutely amazing and I am so thankful to be doing something that resonates with others.”

Falcone’s overall positive experience is also the result of a pretty hearty trust in her Dungeon Master:

“[Walnut] has a canonical love interest. Their story is not the butt of any jokes, it’s not to fetishize queerness for the male gaze, it belongs to them. I trust Jerry [Holkins] completely when we bring that story to the table to help me flesh it out and be true to my character. I don’t know how I would do this if the campaign wasn’t so casually queer-friendly already, and I am truly lucky to be given the space and voice to realize that every week.”

One of the reasons I write about table top RPGs so often on Autostraddle is specifically because table top RPGs can look and feel however the Dungeon Master and the players would like; a game can be casually queer friendly at the behest of its players, and not at the whim of some far off creator. A queer, feminist DM usually means a queer, feminist game because we don’t magically become different people when we pick and choose what sorts of story lines interest us. (I almost wrote that we don’t magically become different people when we sit down at the table, but actually we kinda do, so.) In her appearances on Critical Role and the weekly Critical Role talk show, Talks Machina (Tuesdays, 7:00 pm PST), Stevenson mentioned her previous D&D game a couple times. I specifically asked her to spill about it because it sounded so interesting:

“My awesome girlfriend Molly was the DM, it was my first campaign ever, and she came up with this Breakfast Club idea where we all met through detention. I played Jericho Rose, a tiefling warlock who sold her soul to the devil to piss off her parents—we also had a half-orc jock, a Drow druid who saw herself as a Disney princess, an emo elf ranger, a dwarven wizard nerd, and a Tracy Flick-style lawful good halfling rogue to keep us all in line (and very specifically piss off my character). Playing as a teenage character is really fun, especially when it’s your first campaign, because you can just lean into the impulsive stupid decisions that teens and also new D&D players make without thinking the consequences through. In fact that was my character’s entire thing: Molly made me actually have to deal with the consequences of both being a tiefling in the world and having sold my soul to a demon patron as a teen, which meant I was at odds with the rest of my crew a lot of the time, and all those teen emotions just came pouring out. I think we were all playing some aspect of our actual teen selves so it got…intense.”

I did my homework and asked both Falcone and Stevenson if they knew of any other queer women playing D&D on the internet anywhere. I play and watch a lot of Dungeons and Dragons, but perhaps I was simply missing something? But alas, neither could think of another queer woman playing publicly on the internet. Stevenson then replied, “I know plenty of queer women who love D&D though, so maybe we just need to get them their own shows.” You heard it here first: Noelle Stevenson wants y’all queers to get out there and stream your D&D games. Who are we to argue?

Which brings me back around to why it’s truly important to see players like Stevenson and Falcone play characters like Tova and Walnut. I’m, of course, very into constantly fighting toxic masculinity and toxic geekery, and I asked Falcone why it’s important hoping she would blurt out a similar answer. Of course, her answer is a better one:

“It is important for me as a queer femme to feel seen and valid, and it can be hard even in queer spaces. There are so many different ways to be queer, to be a woman, to be feminine, to just, be. I wish I had been exposed to more queer representation in my youth, and I am constantly seeking it out now. Yes, I want to see people like me so I feel valid, and so others like me feel valid, but beyond that I just want to see other types of people. Unique voices, experiences, and backgrounds bring so much and have been excluded for too long. Tabletop roleplaying is all about imagination and unbridled fun. Everyone should have a seat at the table. Everyone.”

If you’d like to check out Penny Arcade’s C-Team, you can get caught up on their YouTube channel and then hit up their Twitch channel to watch live. If you’d like to get started with Critical Role, you can start from the beginning or jump in here, and then hit Twitch for the live games each Thursday. If you’d like to start playing Dungeons and Dragons, you can check out the Autostraddle guide to getting started with your own queer, feminist game.

Editor’s note: the title of this post has been changed to better reflect the work that women are doing in the table top gaming sphere at this present (awesome) moment in gaming.

Gayme Night: Gather Your Party, Let’s Play Dungeons and Dragons

Thank fuck for D&D. Seriously. This political climate has got me way, way down. So you know what’s been really excellent? Not being in this world for a dozen or so hours every month.

Let me back up and explain.

Dungeons and Dragons is a tabletop role-playing game played with dice and a character sheet on which there are statistics, numbers that represent what your character is good at. Players roll dice and then add the appropriate number and that lets the group know if they succeed or fail at their plan. Most players play as one character, but one player, typically called the Dungeon Master, plays as all the monsters, all the other characters in the world there are to talk to and, occasionally, the world itself (you bet each day has weather in my game!). The main thing keeping folks from playing D&D, at least in my experience talking to people, is the lack of this one player willing to put in a couple hours prep and run everything, which sounds a whole lot like work when I put it that way. Except it’s fun. I promise. I love being the DM. I love being the DM more than I love being a player. And I am telling you this because you might too — I didn’t expect to. I got into DMing because I quickly realized that the only way we were going to play was if I did it.

Feel free to use my lil’ cartoon for your invites!

Some people think D&D is a game for straight white dudes. It’s not. In fact, because one person is responsible for inventing the entire world, it’s a game for whoever you are and whoever your players are. That’s why I’m featuring it in more than a comedic capacity. Tabletop role-playing games that are as expansive as Dungeons and Dragons are excellent when you normally don’t see yourselves and your friends in the games you play. They’re excellent for when you want to process through difficult stuff you’re seeing in the world with little consequence. And, if you have a feminist group like mine, it’s excellent for giving your friends a lot of opportunities to subvert problematic tropes in awesome creative ways and, yes, to skewer the patriarchy on their swords.

But how to get started? And how to include your friends, some of whom may have never played before? I’ve got you covered. Here’s the lowest cost way to get going and some different kinds of formats depending on how many friends you’ve got who want in.

Getting Started

You can get started for the price of graph paper, pencils and dice. Here, there will be enough dice in here ($10.18) for everyone to use. Depending on your group size, that might even give everyone a set. Players really treasure sets their DM friends give them. I still use a set my very first DM got me. I recommend everyone bring a notebook too—you want your players to take notes about what interests them, so they can come back to them later and pursue a line of inquiry. You also want to take notes because you’re going to invent things on the fly (believe me, your players will ALWAYS surprise you). Here’s a pack of five Muji grid notebooks for $10.95.

Here are the very most basic rules for free. Start here if you’re not sure you want to invest in being a DM. If you want a little more detail (and a good deal of searchability options), check out the D&D Beyond Beta.  Here are pre-generated character sheets so you don’t spend time doing math when you could be going on adventures. And speaking of adventures—

Campaign v. One Shot

Before we decide how you’re going to grab up your first adventure, you have to decide how much time you want to dedicate to playing. There are two main sorts of play-lengths: a game that takes more than one session to play and a game that only takes an afternoon or an evening.

The first sort is a campaign—a series of adventures strung together to tell a larger story. To see a good example of a campaign, check out Penny Arcade’s C-Team. There’s only four episodes so far, so you can catch up pretty easily if you enjoy watching! This is also a good example of a game that doesn’t use a combat grid or minis, which is the least expensive way to run a game! The second sort is a one-shot — a whole story arc that can be completed in one gayme night. One-shots are good if you aren’t sure about your time investment desires OR if you want to do something crazy with your characters just to experiment. For good examples of one-shots, check out this one episode of Critical Role that is kinda its own thing or this Critical Role one-shot (queer lady characters, but beware, it’s a group of evil characters and this one-shot is violent as a result!).

Once you know your level of investment, it’s time to decide on your adventure! But where to find them? Well there are tons of adventures on something called the DM’s Guild, an open marketplace for DMs to share the things they make up for free or profit. Do be aware: there are some hella problematic things on the DMs Guild! If you want to skip that and get a more curated look at it, Dragon + Magazine often features some of the best adventures on the DMs Guild (and includes free downloadable adventures as well). If you want a more direct rec, I bought this adventure for $2, which is good for first and second level characters (there’s some weird tropey relationship stuff at the end of it, but you can feel free to not!).

If you want to save yourself sifting through adventures (or memorizing anything), you can do what I do and MAKE SOME SHIT UP. Take the plot hooks from your favorite books and D&D-ize them. It’s just your home game so STEAL WITH ABANDON. Give life to your weirdest fever dreams. A crew of halfling bards on a river boat that they operate by all pedaling it like a bicycle while two of them play a giant tuba coming out the middle of the boat as a morale boost? THAT EXISTS IN MY GAME. And you know what doesn’t? Weird tropey relationship stuff! The merits to making up your own adventure are that you don’t have to deal with any eyerolling storytelling, you can just cut to the stuff you love and that’s that. The drawback is, of course, time spent. Might I recommend borrowing maps and ideas and tweaking them just a bit? Here’s a good wizard’s mill that I’ve used — the motivation for going there? The sorts of people they talk to on the way? That’s all up to you. (I also recommend tweaking the choice of boss monster for your first level players, or they will all die.) If you want a good primer on how to make your own adventures, I might recommend Matthew Colville’s series for beginner DMs. While Colville is cool and all, he sometimes uses clips of classic movies to illustrate his point. These classic movie clips, well, how do I put this…the breath-stealing isms present in many classic movies are the reason I’m not a movie person. But I’ve never heard anyone explain how to make an adventure from scratch better than Matthew Colville, so here you go.

Now to decide on a few other kinds of things regarding your adventure.

If You Have Two or Three Other Friends

One thing to note if you’re running for a smaller party is that most adventures you can buy or download are perfectly suited for exactly four people.This is great if your group has exactly four people. If you don’t, the main thing to keep in mind as you’re scaling adventures up and down is that, because math, whichever side has more people on it has a significant advantage REGARDLESS of how badass your adventurers seem to be. So even if you’re using something like Kenku or Gnolls and it doesn’t seem like they’re going to do that much damage, if your group of two goes up against four of these fairly weak enemies, they’re likely going to find themselves in trouble anyway. Remember, the point is not to destroy your friends’ characters. The DM isn’t adversarial. You are there to make your friends look like badass heroes and to tell a cool story. There is no “winning” D&D (that’s the other reason I love it). So if you’re running for a smaller group and you’re brand new and you don’t have a sense of how powerful your monsters are yet, I recommend using an encounter calculator so you set up the kind of battles you mean to.

If You Have A SHITTON OF FRIENDS

You may have the opposite problem — you sent out the email seeing who was interested and BOYHOWDY 10 people replied. First off, congrats on having the biggest, queerest D&D game, you’re gonna have a grand ole time. But second, I played in a group of eight. It was my first D&D experience. And while I loved that group, Imma tell you right now: DO NOT DM FOR EIGHT OR MORE PEOPLE. It is difficult — the group gets sidetracked a lot more, combat takes FOREVER, it’s just a mess. My group is capped at six. But the point of gayme night is to get your community together to play, so what’s a queermo to do? Well there’s a style of play called The West Marches that might suit you, wherein you cap the number of players at four or five a session, but a different group of players is always playing. Instead of you prepping an adventure, you give the whole group a set of plot hooks (like a treasure map with a bunch of cool sounding locations or a book of faerie stories, something like that) and then the players decide what they’re interested in, put together a group of players into the same, and say hey, we want to go visit the [insert whatever it is here]. You decide how much time you need to get it ready, when to schedule, etc. and then that group shows up. They go on their adventure, head back to town and add what they found to the collective map, and then a new group reforms based on another plot hook, maybe something they discovered along the way. This is great if you want to make up your own adventures and setting and such, but don’t want to do a ton of work up front just to have your players turn and go in the opposite direction. Here’s Matt Colville again with a really excellent description of what a West Marches game looks like and how you might encourage your players to really own it.

But What Kind of Things Do I Do For The Hosting Part of It?

Okay, so D&D has a particular culture of pizza and soda to it. Basically the name of the Gayme is to make it feel like the basement or dining room table from when you were a kid. Think Stranger Things. Don’t lean into making things medievally (though sometimes I do bake up a loaf of bread for my crew and serve it with some grapes and such). Lean into making things feel downright comfortable. Have everyone throw down a couple dollars for pizza. Pick up any of Mey’s fave sodas. If someone wanted to swoop in like a hero with their mom’s old cookie recipe, that’s extra cool. And if you drink, beer is the way to go here (but lets everyone be cogent. D&D is really hard to play at any level more than tipsy). I highly recommend pajamas and/or onesies. As you can see, we don’t get dressed up for our game:

See? This is my group! They don’t know it in this picture, but they were about to stumble upon a murder mystery that would force this group of chaotic misfit toys to align themselves with AUTHORITY and they feel all kinds of ways about it hahahahaha I love it.

If you get invited to a game, remember that your host is DMing, which takes preparation work. Offer to organize the pizza-getting or the weird-soda-tasting portion of the evening to take something off their plate. And please! Send me pictures of your queer games: ali [at] autostraddle.com. It would bring me joy (and you might get featured here on Autostraddle!). And please do comment if you’ve got questions. I want to make a million queer DMs give this a try. I’m sick of walking into tabletop spaces and being stared at because I’m the only one of me there. Let’s queer this space up, friends.

Are These 15 Storylines Too Gay for My D&D Campaign?

feature image via Shutterstock

A few things happened in my Dungeons and Dragons world in the past few weeks. First, my Dungeon Master moved to Oxford so our (half-queer) game went digital. Second, since a friend and I longed for a physical, real-tabletop gaming experience once again, we decided I should DM for a group of our writer friends. I anticipate good things from a group where five of six members have graduate degrees in fiction. As a player, I always roll butch lesbians because I think I deserve to see myself reflected in tales of other worlds. And that’s the beauty of playing a tabletop RPG—you can just do that. But now that I’m DMing, I have the power to do more. SO. MUCH. MORE. I can write the gayest NPCs, encounters and storylines in the history of the world. I’m mad with power. But the question remains: how much is too much? You tell me.

Are These 15 Storylines Too Gay for My D&D Campaign?

1. A queer Druid spends eight hours a day in Beast Shape as a cat to better understand the needs of her feral colony.
2. A third-level genderqueer Bard casts Enthrall by singing Julia Nunes’s gay-ass classic, “Make Out.”
3. Replace the Zhentarim with the Gay Mafia. It’s lead by a piano playing, purple-spectacle-wearing wizard named Elminster John.
4. A seventeenth-level Cleric of Ioun uses Visions of the Past to make sure her cheating ex hasn’t used the dildo she won in the divorce with anyone else.
5. Rolling a critfail while flirting results in a random outcome chosen from the folder of You Need Help questions on my computer.
6. Two words: Butch. Paladins.
7. A princess locked in a tower develops a special relationship with her dragon guardian: he only eats the men who come to rescue her and, on her signal, spares the women. “Girl, I gotchu,” he says, and while they’re waiting for the perfect butch paladin, they do a karaoke rendition of “Let’s Have a Kiki.” He is a literal wingman.
8. No queer NPCs die. No stray arrows.
9. New barbarian path: Way of the Otter. Because we can’t have Way of the Bear without it.
10. Rolling a nat-twenty while flirting means I just play a Crash Pad episode for thirty seconds.
11. If a male player makes a misogynistic comment that has nothing to do with storyline or character development, he has to complete a lap around my living room while impersonating John Cleese in The Ministry of Silly Walks.
12. New option on the Wild Magic table: upon rolling a 69, you transform into that Snapchat filter such that when you open your mouth, you puke illusory rainbows. Attacks against you have disadvantage for the next three rounds.
13. New homebrewed class: House Boi. Proficiencies: woodworking tools, brewing tools, blacksmiths’ tools when forging BDSM implements.
14. New use of the renown system: tracking poly relationships.
15. Everyone gets this d20 and only this d20:

via Pinterest because of course