Save Versus Senescence

One of the few good things to have come out of the late unpleasantness of the pandemic was being able to reconnect with a number of friends and family with whom I'd lost touch over the years, including high school classmates. I hadn't seen or spoken to some of my classmates since I'd graduated almost forty(!) years ago. Getting back in touch with them after all these years has been an unexpected blessing and I'm very grateful to the friend who made it happen. We now get together virtually every couple of weeks and it's always a good time.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, these online get-togethers have got me thinking more and more about the passage of time and the effect it has on the mind. I often joke that your 50s are the last decade of life where you can still possibly delude yourself into thinking that you're not old, but the truth is, by any real measure, I’m no longer a young man (though, given my curmudgeonly nature, I'm not sure I was ever a young man). I’ve also been part of this hobby for over four decades now and while I obviously still find great joy in it, I’ve also started to see it in a new light – not just as a pastime, but as a practice.

Over the years, I’ve unfortunately known too many people whose minds have withered in old age, people who were once sharp, curious, and imaginative, now diminished, their thoughts clouded and their memories unreliable. It’s painful to witness, especially when the person in question is close to you, as is the case with my family. Seeing firsthand the toll that old age can take on someone's mental faculties has made me determined to do everything I can to avoid that same fate. I have no interest in surrendering to senescence without a fight – especially not when it comes to my creativity, imagination, memory, and the other intellectual powers that roleplaying games have nurtured in me for so long. In fact, I’ve come to believe that RPGs may be the best tools I have for keeping my mind sharp and my spirit engaged as I grow older.

Consider: 

Running a campaign demands memory. It’s not just about remembering rules (though Crom knows that’s also no small feat), but recalling names, places, events, and the offhand comment a player made six sessions ago that has now become central to their investigations. Players too must remember clues, maps, tactics, and what happened the last time they dared to venture into the underworld. This kind of mental juggling is excellent exercise for the brain. It’s work, yes, but the right kind of work, the kind that strengthens rather than exhausts.

Likewise, we often talk about how roleplaying games engage the imagination and it’s true. Whether you’re a referee creating a new adventure locale or a player fleshing out a character’s background, you’re involved in active creation. Imagination isn’t something you lose simply because you’ve got gray in your beard. Like a muscle, it needs use to stay limber. RPGs offer a regular, structured way to exercise your creative faculties – not passively but actively and in concert with others doing the same.

A good roleplaying game, particularly of the old school variety celebrated around here, puts a premium on problem-solving. It’s not about "character builds" or "system mastery," it’s about figuring things out: how to get past the locked door; how to negotiate with the bandit leader; how to escape the dungeon when half the party is unconscious and the torch is burning low. These are the kinds of challenges that reward lateral thinking, resourcefulness, and calm decision-making under pressure. These are also skills worth keeping sharp for use in the real world.

I've talked about this many times over the history of this blog, but it bears repeating: RPGs are, at their heart, a social activity. They bring people together – friends, family, even strangers – for shared experiences. Social interaction is vital to mental health, particularly in old age. My father-in-law used to say, "Loneliness is a killer" and he was right. Isolation kills the spirit. A regular game night, even if it’s online, keeps the lines of communication open and the bonds of fellowship strong. 

In a similar way, having a campaign to plan, a dungeon to stock, or an NPC to create gives me something to look forward to. It creates a rhythm in life, as well as a sense of continuity. The real world might be uncertain, the body might be slower, but, in the game, there’s always a next step, a new adventure on the horizon.

I realize that, in writing this, I’m not just talking about games. I’m talking about resistance – to decline, to irrelevance, to the quiet erosion of faculties that so many assume is inevitable. I reject that. I believe that staying mentally active and creatively engaged is not only possible as we age, it’s essential. Roleplaying games, with their boundless potential for imagination, challenge, and connection, are among the best tools I know for doing just that.

There's no doubt I’m older than I was when I'd spend hours in my room poring over the write-ups in the Monster Manual, imagining the adventures I'd create for my friends. Even so, I’m still here – still imagining, still playing, still creating. As long as I’m able, I intend to keep those dice rolling.

Not just for fun but for life.