Well first off, he wouldn’t. But for argument’s sake, let’s say his friend, C.S. Lewis, talks him into it. (Yes, the irony. The greatest modern Christian apologist sticking up for D&D, but I can I see that happening.) John Ronald Reuel reads over the rules quickly and finds them unnecessarily boorish in insignificant details. (Ahem.) He sees no reason to read over any of the published setting material or adventures, as he of course, already has something in mind.
There is a tense moment around the heavenly game table between Tolkien and Gygax, but Tolkien’s proper English manners and Gygax’s Midwestern upbringing come to the forefront, resulting in a mutual understanding. (C.S. Lewis is still there. He’s mediates between them and wants to get on with the game.)
Gygax reluctantly defers his DM’s chair and screen to Tolkien. He makes a snide aside to Dave Arneson, their own differences properly forgotten, as he makes a pulling motion, “Choo choo, here comes the railroad.” And indeed, it is a couple of days later (remember, it’s heaven, nobody has to stop for bathroom or snack breaks), before Tolkien finishes up the players’ introduction to his setting. He notices all of his players asleep, which is a bad sign, given that no one needs to sleep in heaven either.
Tolkien, immensely learned and intelligent fellow that he is, immediately declares a quick break and uses the time to read every D&D module and setting there ever was or will be. He finds them all terribly flawed and simplistic. He outright grimaces reading Dragonlance, and now understands what a “railroad” is. However, the charm of the readers/players actually being a part of the story and moving the plot forward by their own actions, rather than being passive observers, he finds irresistible.
Tolkien returns to the table. “Gentlemen, your characters are all political prisoners exiled to a penal colony across the ocean by a corrupt despot. Separated from friends, family, children, and spouses, you all burn for revenge. However, your prison ship comes to grief in a storm before reaching your destination. You and your compatriots are the only survivors, washed up upon a beach. You salvage a meager amount of gear from the wreck to outfit yourselves. You don’t know where in the world you are. Looking inland, you see a massive ancient city, seemingly deserted. Suddenly, you hear Orcish singing in the distance and coming closer. What do you do?”
Gygax smiles and readies his dice.
J.
(Note that this post has been modified from the original to reflect Dave Arneson's passing about a month after it was written.)
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