A few weeks or months ago (all I remember is the month started with a “J”) I sat down before a shadowy collective of twenty somethings who were irreversibly dedicated to the goal of spending an evening enveloped in the drama of trying to figure out if anybody remembered to bring any dice.

I chose not to participate in the discussion, the immediate reason being that I had apparently brought every piece of paper I own except for that which had my adventure scrawled upon it, but also because my own dice were resting comfortably in my apartment 150 miles away.

The fact that we barely had enough dice to play Yatzee, let alone Shadowrun, probably played less of a factor in the evening’s shaky start than my personal realization that I could not recall the proper name of a single light pistol. And even this development would prove inconsequential once it became apparent that, had I known the name of a light pistol, I wouldn’t have a clue how to fire it.

Finally the dice rationing drama subsided, those struck with last minute “I don’t have a street name” trauma settled on an appropriate cliché, and all eyes peered through the nicotine fog, waiting for me to pull the year 2063 out of my ass.

This was the first time I had tried to GM in nearly a year and a half. My preparation was horrible, my knowledge of the rules obsolete, my voices and impressions laughable, and my ability to adequately describe the mood and appearance of a late 21st century alleyway bordering on miserable.

In other words, it was just like old times.

Over the last 18 months, I’ve avoided Shadowrun like it was the plague, herpes and mad cow disease all rolled into one. My excuses were many, elaborate, and often more creative than some of my runs, but, in the end, I know reason I haven’t been gamemastering is because: I’m a really shitty gamemaster.

Gamemasters are supposed to know the rules. I do not. Gamemasters are supposed to be able to create brilliant plots and intriguing personalities at the drop of a hat. My plots often have more holes than threads and my NPCs initially exhibit the personality traits of roofing tar. I misplace my notes, I drop my dice, I lose my concentration and have to be reminded of what room everybody is in. I mix up locations, I can’t remember the names of the PCs…hell, half the time I can’t remember the name of the players.

And every time I visit my gaming buddies, somebody asks me – *me* - the question that makes this shitty gamemaster want to go through it all over again:

“When will we be running?”

There’s a message in there somewhere; I’d spend more time pointing it out, but I have to set up a run…