Zoom Tabletop playback is useful, but not enough

My friends and I kicked off the infamous Dungeons & Dragons campaign last week, over videoconference. There were emotional moments and DM congratulations when the story ended. The multi-year journey was over, and the last action was to shut down the videoconferencing app and go to sleep. When the computer was silent, when the screen was black, we were all different, in our different homes.

Sounds wrong. It it was it's not good.

I thought back to our personal turning point when there could be a big moment in a campaign or board game. We laugh, have fun, and take turns five hundred and sometimes we sigh. Competitors could finally shake hands to show that there were no hard feelings. Playing, when it's good, when we're interacting with each other, allows us to reach out to each other. Emotional withdrawal is a psychological emotion that can force us to physically touch others, establish ourselves and share the moment.

It doesn't take much to remember all the fun times I've had of playing on a real, physical tablet in front of all the players, and the fake threats or the mysterious wrap of diamonds that ended with screaming, groaning, and everything in between. One of my friends offers a good throw back when the game gets pressing.

Photo: Charlie Hall / Polygon

The game is important, but it's not the focus of the evening. These games are usually just a feature of a pleasant atmosphere, a splash of glass, and a very communicative body language about how the game is progressing.

When the latest game ends, the applause and notes about the story and the decisions we may have made are moments that I will treasure forever. It's an experience that ended a long journey, which we started years ago – personally – and I'm glad we were able to continue our story with our laptops and smartphones and tablets.

But the applause was there for nothing else we could do. All I wanted was to thank our DM for doing such an amazing job and giving us a world to run from when this world is over. I wanted to hug her, to share that moment of catharsis.

Of course I didn't know, that none of us could, it was a loss. It's a loss we all experience every time we play together in a virtual setting. And it's a loss I want to make sure we see, and it's sad. This is something that the epidemic has taken on us, and I'm glad we are isolating it, but the costs are high. This is not enough, and it never will be.

The gaming and role-playing community has plenty of tips for playing or running games remotely. Playing a game with friends or family over video chat, whether it's a large participatory campaign or a quick Jackbox Party Pack cycle, can be a great way to connect. Also only way to connect, now. These solutions are Band-Aids – temporary ways to make the most of what we can do together, not replace something real, and often not enough. It helps, but it may sound silly and frustrating.

You can only connect more with a computer screen. The beauty of tabletop gaming has always been physical intimacy, and syncing our games with videoconferencing is like trying to cook without frying. You can always live by eating it, but your soul will feel the difference, no matter how thankful you are.

We don't know what the world will look like when this is over. Not all changes have been bad, either; I like the idea that many companies will be open to the idea of ​​people working from home, and I hope we learn that, in fact, we can make changes in our lifestyle and give up some happiness for the good. Those skills will be increasingly needed as we deal with global warming.

I'm still ready to meet up with friends to play games on my own, when it's safe to do so. However, there are none of these changes in how our game should be permanent.

The differences in tablet games, moments of fear and uncertainty and adventure, and then the emotional catharsis when we win, or lose, or find something surprising in our story, are dramatically enhanced by physical presence. But playing our games in video chat also means we miss out on being part of others' lives. When you visit another game's home, you find that we have a good, or maybe a good night, for their children. You get to kiss their partner, and you get their life. You can see how big their puppy is. She shares food and drinks. Game nights are not just reunions; for many of us, it provides an important sense of community and connection not just to our friends, but their families and their homes.

I'm not here to provide solutions, because they are not. This is a situation we have to endure. But I want to say that I share the feelings you may be experiencing: the feeling that there is nothing good enough, that we are still oppressed and done, even when accompanied by our weekly campaigns and games through video or voice chat.

We restore an important part of our lives by continuing to play, which keeps our community alive, but we do not spend time together in a way that fills all our needs. We only get 70% there, it is possible. Everything else is lost, and we pay you fatigue, fear and anxiety.

We are all, at the moment, alone. That won't be easy any time soon, and it's okay to be wrong about that.

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