Within the walls of a nondescript storefront, hemmed in by an alchemy shop and a day spa, a world within a world unfolds every night.
Young and old huddle together over fold-out tables, playing games so intricate that textbooks are required. Players speak in funny voices, battle dragons and destroy cities with a single bite. The games often last for hours, and the owners of Chicagoland Games have a policy: They don’t close until the game is over.
The store has become a sanctuary of sorts for gamers since it opened last fall. While it is easy to spot signs of nerdiness — the glasses, unruly hair, the use of overly technical language — it is also easy to miss what unites this loyal following: a desire to escape the mundane trappings of everyday life. Here, in board games like Dungeons & Dragons, patrons inhabit worlds where removing an enemy is as simple as casting a spell and camaraderie is as easy as rolling the 20-sided dice.
Store owner Alex Dunning, 32, has become something of a mentor to many of the younger gamers, fielding calls from them throughout the day about the minutiae of their lives.
On a recent weekday, one high school student called to tell Dunning he was sick.
“Dude, that’s lame,” Dunning responded. “Being sick sucks.”
A few minutes later, another teen called to say he was grounded. Dunning was sympathetic. “These kids are here so much that when they’re grounded, they’re grounded from coming to the store,” said Dunning, who sports thick frame glasses and a heavy beard.
He opened the store in October with two fellow gaming enthusiasts. A former PhD candidate at the University of Illinois-Chicago, Dunning quit his studies in the Napoleonic wars a few years ago and dedicated his time to his hobby. He considers himself the “most overqualified historical war-gamer ever.”
It’s not uncommon to find Dunning or the other owners embroiled knee-deep in an epic battle at the gaming tables.
“[We] are every bit as into this as everyone else,” Dunning said. “Sometimes it’s hard to focus on the business end of it.”
Launching a business as the economy tanked might have been more a recipe for maximum pain than profit. But the store, at 1207 W. Bryn Mawr Ave., is packed most nights and weekends. The urge to escape into the world of fantasy may just increase in tough times, gamers say.
Players don’t pay to play, but they return to the store to buy their games and accessories.
“The world of Dungeons & Dragons is far more interesting than the world out there,” said Christopher Hunter, pointing to a rain-soaked Bryn Mawr Avenue. “I get annoyed with things in everyday life. I’m always entertained by the notion of being someone else.”
An 18-year-old with a nasal voice and a sharp wit, Hunter was hugging a dragon in the fantasy game, where players create characters who go on campaigns.
“I cast a spell that made the dragon like me,” he said. “I’m a bard.”
Hunter takes both the game and his character very seriously. To get himself into character he will listen to harp music he downloaded to his iPod. Bards are known for their musical affinity.
“It helps me,” he said.
Hunter was playing the game with his best friends, Doug Stuckey and Woody Wolff. The three chided one another relentlessly as they played, reinforcing how close they are, and the game had taken a few comic turns.
“We’ve lost two characters to plot holes,” said Stuckey, 18.
Undeterred, Hunter continued.
“I’m fundamentally against sports,” he said with a fierce conviction, his eyes open wide. “Organized sports are a crime against humanity.”
But not all gamers are so anti-sports. Sitting beside Hunter was Matt Belk, 23, who ran track at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign before transferring to Columbia College to study creative writing in science fiction and fantasy.
“I’m the guy that plays Dungeons & Dragons,” said Belk, rolling a 20-sided dice to determine whether he can bring a dragon back from the dead. “That’s what people know me as.”
He rolls low. The dragon stays dead.
Autumn Mentink, a fellow gamer, leans over the heap of paper, books and dice and says what no one else will: “You play D&D and you get branded with all the other things: You’re incompetent around the other sex, you wear glasses, you have bad skin.”
“The reality is, it’s a great social game,” said Mentink, 23. “You’re not at a computer; you’re in a room with real people.”
The walls of the store are filled with a dizzying array of options beyond the popular Dungeons & Dragons. There’s Call of Cthulhu, Zombietown and Cosmic Cows, to name a few. For some of these, the store will often host special events and tournaments. Users post meet-ups on the store’s Web site.
At a recent Monsterpocalypse tournament, players gathered around tables near the back of the store, preparing themselves for battle. The role-playing game involves monsters, including Godzilla, roaming city streets and wreaking havoc.
Dragon McReynolds, 28, the tournament organizer, announced the rules of the game and then checked the prep sheets of each player.
“There’s a lot of rules and strategy involved in this game,” he said.
Bilal Muhammad, 41, crouched over three crates of goods he brought for the tournament. Muhammad, a soft-spoken nurse, came straight from work and was wearing hospital scrubs.
He says he plays games in part to work out aggression.
“You have two monsters smashing through cities,” Muhammad said. “You get to eat buildings.”
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aahmed@tribune.com
