Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow
Having a character in your campaign die permanently is a horrible thing to have happen, not only for the player whose character it was but to the table as a whole. We are invested in our characters, writing detailed backgrounds, spending hours developing them inside and out of game sessions, and laboring over the proper builds to make them into the epic hero you want them to be. When a power word kill spell obliterates them, there is a sense of loss and what could have been. You’ll play over and over in your head what could have been done differently, lament over the loss of time and effort spent on your beloved hero, and feel a little sad. The great part about the game is you can move on quickly, create your new character and learn to love them as much as your fallen champion.
The only thing worse than a character death occurs when a player leaves the group. Not only does the character depart from the game, but the loss of a player can impact the table in several different ways. The party dynamics change, but more importantly, the entire table dynamics are altered. People leave for any number of reasons. That pesky works thing gets in the way, they may have to relocate across the country, or you’re family misses you. Life gets in the way sometimes. In most cases, you’re either losing a friend and a comrade or a toxic individual dragging everyone down. It is either a time for sadness or relief, both of which have real consequences on how the game moves forward.
Unfortunately, the person leaving is me.
I wasn’t asked to leave and made the choice entirely of my own volition. I’d been struggling with the idea of quitting for a while, and the last session I played was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Nothing dramatic happened. I just decided I had enough. The game brought me no joy anymore. I wasn’t having fun, and if you’re not enjoying yourself, why bother playing?
I wrote last week about burnout and what you could do to alleviate it. I had recently taken a break, as we had just finished up the last campaign and were doing a series of short adventures before kicking off the next epic quest to save the known multiverse. I had played a few more sessions and was still in a funk during our games. It was then I realized that it wasn’t burnt out, simply unhappy. It was a sad revelation to come to, but I knew it was time to move on if I was honest with myself.
I called the DM later that night, explained to him that I had decided to leave the group. I don’t think it came as much of a shock as we’d previously discussed how I felt. He was gracious about it, asked a few questions, and that was that. He deserved a high level of respect for being an amazing DM through multiple campaigns. I hope he believed me when I told him (multiple times) it had absolutely nothing to do with him. I can’t remember if I thanked him for all the fun I had, but I hope I did. (Note - My DM was Stephen. Yes, we are still going to work together at Dump Stat, and yes, it was hard to be nice to him. I’m joking, of course.)
I sent out a message the next day letting the rest of the group know I was bowing out. I thanked everyone for a great three years and left it at that. I didn’t put an explanation as to why I was leaving, keeping it short and sweet. If people wanted to know why I was more than happy to discuss it one on one. While I wasn’t about to ghost them, I believed that I didn’t owe anyone an explanation. I’m not the type to leave some lengthy message in our chatroom, going on about my choices. It’s just not me, and I’m positive they all know that about me. Some people I talked to about it, others didn’t reach out, so I felt it at that. Those I did talk to, I was honest and forthright with them about why I made my decisions, and we have parted as friends.` It was important to me that we were all still friends, and I’m confident I’ll be able to maintain that friendship[ with most if not all of them.
So why did I leave? The simple answer was my playstyle wasn’t meshing with the rest of the table anymore. I’m not here to call anyone out or blame people for how they played the game. This is my issue, not theirs. Everyone deserves to play the way they want. I have no right to ask them to change how they play. While it was fine at first, certain aspects of the overall gameplay started to grate on me. When it wasn’t something I wanted to deal with anymore, I knew it was time to go. I had previously talked to one person and laid out issues I was having with our past interactions. It was a great conversation, but neither of us was able to change how we did things in the long run. I feel better knowing that we talked. If I had departed and didn’t have that conversation, I would spend my time overthinking what could have been. I am looking for something different from the game now, so the onus is on me to find it, not for people to change for me.
I’m a little sad and feeling guilty for abandoning my friends. Just because we cannot play D&D together doesn’t mean our friendship outside the game has to end. My friend Alex, who I talked to at length about leaving, put it into perspective when he said, “You can be great friends with someone, but you can’t play together for whatever reason. It’s just like when you have a great friend, but there’s no way you could live together.”
If you like our articles, love homebrew, and are looking for a fun and active community to talk about all things D&D, consider supporting us on Patreon. Below are some of the benefits we offer:
Access to our Homebrew Horde with over 300 items and counting!
Vote on upcoming Deep Deep topics
Monthly online one-shot adventures
Early access to Deep Dive and Rewind Articles
Even more Homebrew in our Magic Item Monday and Monster Thursday series
More to come!
