A Hobby, Not a Uniform

Regular readers of this blog will know that I have often commented on just how much RPG-related merchandise has proliferated in the decades since my youth. Walk into any convention, visit almost any local game shop, or browse any online storefront and you’re certain to find a dizzying array of T-shirts, hoodies, pins, mugs, and other paraphernalia emblazoned with dragons, polyhedral dice, or cheeky slogans about hit points and saving throws. There are enamel pins shaped like D20s, gemstone dice that made from actual gemstones, and even baby clothes. For a lot of gamers, this is simply a natural extension of their passion, a way to carry a piece of the hobby with them wherever they go.

For me, a certified stick in the mud, it’s something with which I’ve never really connected. In fact, it makes me cringe a little.

This probably sounds odd coming from someone who writes a blog devoted to roleplaying games. I’ve probably spent more time thinking and writing about these games than a lot of my fellow roleplayers –whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen – and I’ve never had any hesitation in discussing my hobby with others. In fact, I’ve generally found that when I do explain my interest in RPGs to non-gamers, most of them are curious, even enthusiastic. Roleplaying is an unusual hobby, to be sure, but thanks to decades of computer and video games, fantasy novels, and popular streaming shows, I think most people nowadays have some sense of what I’m talking about, even if they’ve never rolled a die in anger.

Despite this, I rarely wear T-shirts or any other apparel that advertises my involvement in the hobby – at least not publicly. I do own a handful of such things, of course, but I mostly wear them as sleep shirts. This isn’t out of embarrassment. If I were embarrassed, I probably wouldn’t have spent so many years publicly documenting my thoughts on obscure RPGs, old AD&D modules, or the ins and outs of Tékumel. At my age, I’m quite comfortable with who I am and how I enjoy spending my free time. Even so, I don’t define myself by my hobbies, let alone feel the need to broadcast my interests in them through textiles.

This is a personal preference, of course. But I do find there’s something just a bit strange and even a little off-putting about wearing one’s enthusiasms like a uniform. It can feel, at times, like a kind of branding, as though we’re walking billboards for our subcultures. I understand the appeal: there’s comfort in signaling shared interests, especially in a world that, particularly in recent years, feels increasingly fragmented and alienating. For many people, these shirts and hats and pins are conversation starters or community badges, small ways of affirming, “These are my people. I belong here.” I can respect that. I really do. It’s just not for me.

Perhaps it’s generational or maybe it’s the result of having come of age at a time when fandoms weren’t quite as performative or commercialized as they seem to have become. In my youth, being a roleplayer was something you did, not something you were, let alone something you wore. One’s love of the game was expressed through carefully drawing up a dungeon map, creating a memorable character, or debating rules interpretations for hours with friends. The idea that there was any need to demonstrate one’s investment through merchandise would have struck us as both odd and a little suspect, like someone claiming to be a film buff because he owned a Star Wars lunchbox.

That said, I understand that times change. The hobby has grown immensely and with that growth has come a broader cultural footprint. What was niche in my youth is now more mainstream, or at least adjacent to it. With mainstream success comes branding opportunities. That’s the nature of modern fandoms: they’re not just about shared interests anymore, but about “lifestyle” and, inevitably, commerce. A shirt isn’t just a shirt; it’s a signal, a declaration, a membership card.

Again, I’m not knocking anyone who enjoys that sort of thing. In its way, it’s another form of expression and one that clearly resonates with many. I suppose I’ve always preferred my interests to emerge through conversation rather than through outward signifiers like clothing. If someone asks me what I’m into, I’ll happily tell him as much about my hobbies (of which roleplaying is but one) as he’ll allow me. Until then, I’m content to let my enthusiasms simmer quietly beneath the surface, where they can surprise and delight rather than shout for attention.

I suppose that’s the essence of it. Some people wear their fandoms on their sleeves – literally – and others keep them tucked away in their notebooks, their memories, and on their game shelves. Both are valid. As for me, I’ll stick to my plain shirts and quiet conversations. After all, a little mystery never hurt anyone.