‘Twas the game before Christmas, when gathered around the table

Were gamers a plenty and role players most able.

Their dice were selected from their bags with great care,

In hopes of rolling max damage and twenties most rare.


The players were nestled all smug in their seats,

Craving more victories, and risking defeats.

And I with my GM’s screen and a clean battlemat,

Reviewed my scenario while at the head seat I sat.


When around from the table there arose such a clatter,

And I groaned in despair for I knew what was the matter.

It started with the Munchkin, and spread like a flash.

The discussion of game systems, and the talking of trash.


The Rules Lawyer praised HERO for its breadth of mechanics,

While the Gamist defended more inventive dynamics.

The Narrativist endorsed Storyteller to the utmost degree.

The Old School Gamer said it was all just D&D.


Back to the Munchkin who had maxed out his build

Of a half Drow assassin from the local Thieves Guild.

No longer just systems was he going to bash,

He now attacked role playing. He craved hack ‘n slash.


“Give me Kobolds, and Orcs! Give me lairs with treasure!

Battle and looting is what gives me pleasure!

I don’t need a plot, just blue dragons with lightning!

Forget background stories. Let’s get on with the fighting!”


The Narrativist cringed and then retaliated

That the fantasy genre was old and out dated.

This caused the Old School Gamer to have a major convulsion,

And the Rules Lawyer flipped to an index out of some strange compulsion.


I remembered our agreement, I remembered our pact,

But I started to tear up our social contract.

What was the point? It was already too late.

Arguing and complaining was this gaming group’s fate.


I do not know where he came from, or how he got there,

But suddenly St. Nick appeared out of thin air!

And this table of gamers did suddenly pause.

“Holy crap!” said the Munchkin. “Is that Santa Claus?”


“Don’t be alarmed! For this season brings me to you.”

Santa took a handful of Cheetos and a cold Mountain Dew.

“You all have your preferences. That is to be expected.

But the point of this hobby this group has rejected.”


“It is not about systems. It is not about rules.

It is not about setting. Don’t be such fools.

It is not about supplements or new gaming trends.

This hobby is all about gathering with friends.”


His message was simple, his language was plain.

I just stared at him speechless. Was I going insane?

He grabbed some more snacks, I think he was famished,

And I as tried to speak Santa suddenly vanished.


The group was dumbfounded, and spoke not a word.

From outside the dwelling jingling sleigh bells were heard.

Gone were the egos that had fueled such a fight.

We all sat there humbled that cold winter night.


The group had renewed purpose and a new sense of unity.

All wrongs were forgiven with sincere impunity.

And from the night sky we heard St. Nick exclaim

“Merry Christmas to all! Now on with the game!”

(Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from the Gnomes!)