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This is not the post that I expected to write today (an ATGMs article), nor is it the backup idea (about getting into character) that I expected to use next week but was ready to bring forward – look for those next week. A confluence of completely independent events has sent my thoughts surging down a different avenue, and one that deserves to be explored.

People die all the time. It’s shocking at the time, and painful for those left behind. Most of the time, those passings are unremarked by the wider world, no matter how strongly the departed has touched or influenced the lives of those in their immediate circle. Sometimes, though, the individual who has passed on has achieved some measure of fame, has influenced others with their lives, and then the grief is a more widespread. Sometimes, the manner of their passing is such that it touches the lives of many who never knew the fallen as individuals; it is the event itself that lends larger-than-life meaning to their passing.

Every person who dies in an aircraft accident that is properly investigated contributes in some measure to the improved safety of the aviation industry for those left behind. Ample blood has been spilled in retaliation for those tragically killed during the 9/11 attacks to ensure that they will never be forgotten as a group. Even when death has not yet occurred, when the circumstances are a slow and tragic ongoing struggle, as with Michael Schumacher, still in a state of near-death after a skiing accident that should not have had consequences of the severity that has resulted (at least in the minds of many), a legacy of achievements means that they will not soon be forgotten. These people did not set out to leave a lasting legacy for the world; many, if not all, of their achievements were for personal benefit. But that’s often the way the world works – you do something for yourself and find that it touches others along the way, inspiring them to make the lives of people richer, safer, or more fulfilled. This is certainly the case when a celebrity passes, however minor a celebrity that person may have been.

Sometimes, people leave a legacy that reaches out from beyond the grave to touch others, as was the case with a Western Australia teen that I was reading about this morning who – after passing away from an especially aggressive form of cancer – left an inspirational message written in texta on the back of her mirror for her family to find after she was gone (You can read the story at this website, at least for now – I don’t know how long it will stay up).

But, as is often the case in such circumstances, these events may prompt those who are left to think morbid thoughts about what legacies they will leave behind when their time comes.

My personal legacy is secure and very satisfactory – not that I expect to shuffle off this mortal coil anytime soon. I have touched people with my music. I have helped others discover the will to live when they lacked it, or contemplated bringing themselves to a premature end. I have received more than enough feedback to know that I have inspired many with the articles that I write at Campaign Mastery. I know that I have deliberately harmed no-one, and accidentally harmed few, and done my best to compensate those injured along the way through my misjudgments. I have given what I could to aid others in worse circumstances along the way. And I know that I have inspired others through my games.

I am not a major celebrity by any means, and I am not sure that I ever would want to be. But I’m not just a statistic, either; I can honestly say that I feel I have made a difference to others in my lifetime. It was never something that I consciously did in order to leave my mark on the world, it happened as a byproduct of living my life day-to-day as the best person I could be.

The makers of Star Trek never set out consciously to create a legacy, either. They were actors, they needed work, and this was a job like any other. Nevertheless, the idealism and optimism that the show contained was inspirational to others, and that rubbed off on the public perception of those who appeared in it. Some of them struggled to come to terms with their unexpected roles as near-messianic inspirations – “I Am Not Spock” by Leonard Nimoy makes that very clear. But what we do, day by day, touches those around us, and can have effects far beyond the purpose and intent of those daily activities.

Very few ever set out to become famous. Celebrity is something that happens as a byproduct of living their lives and doing what they do. That does not elevate the celebrity to sainthood, but it does impose the burden of living up to the public perception – and sometimes that proves too difficult to sustain. Celebrities are people, too, and just as capable of being flawed as anyone else.

And so it is with RPGs and GMing. I’ve learned something from every GM that I have ever played under. Any success that I have at the gaming table is, in part, due to those lessons. They never set out to teach the art of being a good GM – they just wanted to have fun. For that matter, I never set out to become a great GM (and I’m certainly nowhere near being the best) – I sought improvement in my craft because being better at the job made it more fun, both for myself, and vicariously through my players.

In the early days, some family and friends were dismissive, thinking that Gaming should occupy a lower place on my scale of priorities. “It’s just a game”, they would say. Thinking back on those comments now, they remind me more than anything else of various actors and musicians saying “It’s just a job” or “I was just having fun”. The Beatles and Elvis Presley, arguably the prototypes of the modern celebrity, never set out to change the world of entertainment, either. They got a bull by the horns, and they rode the whirlwind as far as it could take them.

There are many scientists who were inspired to earn their degrees by exposure to Star Trek. That was never an ambition of the creators of the show, who just wanted to create something entertaining because that was what they were being paid to do. And yet, every member of the cast and crew shares part of the legacy being created with every discovery made by those who chose science as a result.

Similarly, any legacy that I leave behind is, in part, shared with everyone who ever inspired, educated, or shaped me as a person, and in turn by those who inspired, educated, or shaped them, and on back throughout history. Every person who games, or games better, because of me is part of that legacy too, and at the same time, they are a conduit to passing that legacy on to others. I didn’t set out to leave a legacy behind; I write for self-gratification, because it’s something that I enjoy doing. I GM for the same reason. But in the process, I have nevertheless created a legacy, and now face the responsibility of living up to that legacy.

It’s not just a game when it can and does inspire others to become entertainers or GMs or players. They assume these roles for the same reason that I do the things that I do, for personal pleasure and satisfaction. But in the process, they too begin to craft a legacy for themselves, and it doesn’t matter how many concatenations of chained inheritance that the legacy passes through. Eventually, it will make life better for someone, more fulfilling or satisfying or just more fun.

That’s not such a bad mark to leave on the world.

My concluding point, then, is this: it doesn’t matter how good or bad you are as a GM. It doesn’t matter that you sit behind the screen for your own satisfaction, pleasure, or gratification. Just by being the person you are, and doing what you do, you shape the lives of those you encounter, directly or indirectly; you share a measure of any success they enjoy and a measure of the price of any failures. Being a GM means that you inherit the legacy of everyone who has sat at the table before you, and pass that legacy, with your own additions, to those who will sit at the table after you.

It’s more than just a game, or a sport, or just having fun, when it inspires others – even if neither of you know that it is doing so at the time. Legacies are the byproduct of ordinary people living their lives; they happen, whether you intend them or not, whether they have intentional meaning or not. It doesn’t matter how big or small they are; that’s something beyond your control. All that matters is living up to the responsibility that they carry – by being the best GM, player, entertainer, or person that you can be at the time, for your own satisfaction, and the rest will take care of itself.

And if anyone asks what you do for fun, tell them that you inspire others in your spare time. What could be better than that?


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