D&D is a fantasy game full of magic and surreal creatures, through which you pretend to adventure in the guise of an alter-ego character. But RPGs mimic real life more than you might think. One way they do so is in the arbitrariness of each character's luck. If you approach an evil beast that needs slaying, for instance, you say to the Dungeon Master, "I strike it with my sword." Then you roll dice to see if you hit the thing, and if so, how effective your imaginary blow was. A high roll means you did a lot of damage, a low number, only a little. Then the DM rolls on behalf of the creature to see how hard it strikes back. A high roll means the monster smote you, and a low one means you got away relatively unscathed. Dice are rolled hundreds of times per gaming session. You also roll when thinking up a character to play; the dice determine everything from how much protection your armor affords to how smart and dexterous you are.
They aren't just ordinary dice, either. Sure, a set of dragon dice includes a conventional six-sided die. But there's also a four-sider (d4), an eight-sider (d8), a ten-sider (d10), a twelve-sider (d12) and a twenty-sider (d20). (See www.rpgshop.com for some rather lousy pictures; choose one of the dice options from the left-side menu.) A not-too-dangerous weapon like a small knife might only be capable of doing from 1 to 4 points' worth of damage, so you'd roll a d4 to find out how well your knife attack fared. An enchanted sword, on the other hand, might be capable of more damage, so you'd roll one of the bigger dice. (A natural 20 usually means a beheading.) A weak magic spell performed by a low-level (inexperienced) character might rate only 6 to 10 points, rolled with the corresponding die, while a powerful spell cast by a high-level character would merit a throw of the d20.
Once you get used to deciding everything with a roll of the dice, it's hard to go back. So I was delighted recently when I found an orphaned d12 in a parking lot. It sits on my desk now, and I use it to make editorial decisions. Not sure whether to delete a word or phrase? Roll the die! A throw of 9 to 12 means the troublesome verbiage is outta there; between 1 and 4 means definitely leave it in; 5 to 8 means replace it with something else. If I get a 7, you can be pretty sure a semicolon will be involved.
I urge everyone to get some decision dice. If you're just stuck and can't make the call, letting the dice do it for you takes the pressure off. If you're on the fence but then find yourself disagreeing with the dice, you'll realize which way you're leaning. They're also good for fortune-telling; you can throw to see how big your next raise will be (only need a d4 for that) or to figure the percent chance of something happening (d10s work best for percentages). Use your imagination, and be sure to shop around for super-groovy colors. My d12 is a clear smoky grey, appropriate for the inside of a cubicle, but the dice that fueled my teenage adventures were translucent purple. Still got 'em somewhere in my old bedroom.
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And now, the moment you've all been waiting for . . .
So here's the key. Think about how you conceived the various objects and how you had them relate to one another. But don't think too hard — this is supposed to be fun!
The cube represents you.
The ladder represents your friends.
The horse is your lover.
The storm is (you guessed it) trouble.
The flowers are your children and/or your creative "children," your ideas.
The news on being on the news: Once again, didn't happen. Perhaps I misunderstood which Friday they meant, but I wasn't on on the 4th. Not at 5:00, anyway. Or maybe more pressing news aced me out of my 15 minutes. Just as well, I suppose, since I never did get the VCR to work. If I find out anything else, I'll let you know.
**********The Cube Game: All is revealed!
OK, it's time for the big denouement. By now you've probably figured out that this is one of those games where your responses to the questions reveal various aspects of your personality. And you're right. The difference with this game, known as the Cube game, is that you do the interpreting yourself, rather than relying on some pop-psych guru like me to tell you what it all means. (I have a book about the Cube game in my office, on loan from WhoSEZ, if you want to check it out.)
Intricate? Simple? Closed? Open? Center stage? Distant? Huge? Tiny? Buried in the sand? Standing on edge?
The number of rungs allegedly corresponds roughly with the number of people you count as true friends. Is your ladder old and rickety or strong and sturdy? Leaning on you? Providing support? Providing access to your cube's inner depths? Bridging a gap?
Is the horse nearby or far away? Beautiful or mangy? How does it interact with the cube and its surroundings?
Is your storm approaching, present or abating? Mild or severe?
How many? Where are they? Multicolored or homogenous?