I’m a Bad Influence (And I’m Not Sorry)

I’ve come to accept something about myself: I am a terrible influence on my friends.

Not in a “skip work, make bad life choices way.” In a much more dangerous way.

I introduce them to games.

It usually starts innocently enough. Someone comes over, or joins a game night, or hops into a Discord call. They ask what I’ve been working on lately. I say something casual like, “Oh, I picked up this new RPG,” or “I’ve been messing around with a small wargame system,” or “Have you ever heard of…”

And that’s it. The hook is set.

Next thing I know, they’re texting me links. Watching battle reports. Asking about starter boxes. Wondering aloud if they really need another army or system. Spoiler: yes, yes they do.

I don’t force anyone into this. I never say, “You must play this.” I just run a one-shot. Or set up a demo game. Or put some painted miniatures on the table and let curiosity do the work. Games are patient predators.

I’ve watched friends who only play D&D fall in love with weird indie RPGs that fit in a zine. I’ve seen board gamers discover narrative campaign games. I’ve seen people who swore they’d never touch miniatures suddenly debating color schemes and basing materials. I’ve watched someone buy a single model “just to try it” and then ask what a good carrying case costs two months later.

Every time, there’s a moment where they look at me like this is somehow my fault.

They’re not wrong.

The truth is, I love that moment when a game clicks for someone. When they realize this isn’t just rules and components, but a new way to tell stories, or think tactically, or hang out with friends. When they go from polite interest to genuine excitement. When they start planning lists, characters, campaigns, or tables.

That’s the good kind of influence.

Tabletop gaming thrives because people share it. Because someone ran a game for us once. Because someone handed us a book or a model and said, “You’ve got to try this.” Dice Monkey exists because of that impulse: to pass the spark along and see what catches fire.

So yes, I’ll admit it. I’m a bad influence.

If you’ve got a shelf full of games you didn’t own a year ago, a pile of unpainted minis, or a campaign idea that won’t leave you alone, there’s a chance I had something to do with it.

And honestly?

I regret nothing.