The Computer Is Your Dealer

[gothwalk]

I was asked in work today how I got into RPGs. I explained the usual, found the books, made up my own rules where there were some missing, drafted siblings and friends to play, eventually went to a convention, and so on. There's just been a Paranoia-centric conversation on farflung. This has brought back a certain, possibly occasionally blocked memory from the first convention I was at, Leprecon-mumble-mumble in Trinity. The particular bit is the marching back along Front Square from House 7 or thereabouts to the GMB, singing "Glory, glory the Computer" at the top of my lungs, alongside five equally terrified newcomers to gaming, and with a huge bearded man (the GM) walking backwards in front of us and conducting with a cardboard tube. Scarred for life, I tell you. I wonder who the GM was, actually; I don't recall ever seeing him again.