It's been a while since I actually talked about gaming with children, this blog's original intention. Last month, I have received a letter from a reader named Paul. This letter was full of fascinating insights into gaming within the family (something I'd never done), a very useful general use Q&A and some surprisingly poignant and precise (as well as fun and flattering) comments on the scandal yours truly was involved in last year.
With Paul's permission, I'm now sharing this very interesting and useful essay with you :)
Oh, and Paul -- thanks! :)
Hi Uri,
Where  were you when I needed you?  Oh well . . . better late than never.   Actually, you have already answered most of my questions.  I may sound  like a sycophant stalker when I tell you that I have just finished  reading all of your articles and your entire blog archive.  So why have I  done so much research and then written this epic email?  Probably for  the same reasons you have – because the kids deserve the effort.   Because it’s fun.  Please allow me to explain:
Three  years ago I decided to introduce D&D to my kids and my wife.  I  hadn’t played in twenty years so it was a daunting surprise when I began  reading through the Player’s Handbook 4th Edition.  I wanted to ensure  my kids didn’t get bored while I studied the rules, so I closed the book  and just made-up the rules.  We needed a map or a grid and we had  nothing of the kind, so I designated our lounge room rug (6’ by 4’) as  the entire underground network of dungeons.  We needed miniatures or  figurines so I asked each member of my family to go to their bedrooms  and return with something that could represent their character.  We all  laughed as we surveyed the collection which consisted of a clay  brontosaurus, a smiling Buddha and some sort of Decepticon Transformer.   At one point, my youngest son’s character got trapped in a cage.  He (6  years old at the time) ran to the laundry and returned with a washing  basket.  He placed it over his dinosaur and exclaimed, “He’s trapped!”
As  I said, this was three years ago and just reminiscing is bringing back  fond memories.  I was delighted that the television was turned off and  my family was embracing the opportunity to be creative together, so I  decided to make this a regular event.  I bought the core 4E books,  studied what I felt was the necessary minimum, and printed some 1”  square maps.  Then I journeyed to ‘The Shadowfell’ with my youngest son  (Puck the Elven Fighter), my teenage son (Cralu the Human Rogue) and  Tamara (Zoe the Halfling Ranger); all represented this time by coloured  tokens borrowed from Chinese Checkers.  
We’ve  come a long way since then.  We have a wet-erase mat, dungeon tiles,  lots of miniatures and a DDI account.  The party are now Level 17 PC’s  and I’ve led them through many of the ‘Wizards of the Coast’ published  adventures, from H1: Keep on the Shadowfell to P1: King of the  Trollhaunt Warrens and now P2: The Demon Queen’s Enclave.  
However,  there were many ‘bumps’ along the way.  We got some of the rules wrong –  confusion with opportunity attacks, bursts and blasts, stacked  temporary hit points - and other rules that have since been cleared up  in updates/errata.  But it was arguments at the table that brought our  gaming to an end last year. I found myself constantly putting out fires  that were fuelled by negativity, jealousy, selfishness, interruptions,  usurping and exploitation.  (Wow!  It sounds like a Rupert Murdoch  newspaper.)  It just wasn’t fun anymore.  Yep, I got burned too.
 
In  fairness, I have been DM for a group consisting of a genius (my  youngest son – now nine years), an actor who will probably accept an  academy award before he turns twenty (my teenage son – now 18 years) and  an Early Years Childcare worker who, although very responsible, is  indeed sillier than Lewis Carroll and Dr Seuss combined (Tamara – my  wife).  Although that may sound like the perfect mix for an adventure in  Willy Wonka’s factory, it also perfectly polarizes personalities and  penalises popular play - paralysing persona. My teenage son moved out of  home so we put the game on ice and focused on schoolwork, homework,  bookwork, housework and all the other boring elements in life that  concatenate with ‘work’.  
Earlier  this year, Tamara and I realised just how much we missed D&D.  We  also realised that we had never played with other adults.  We wondered -  considering we are self taught - if we were even playing the game  correctly.  (In hindsight that thought is most existential.)  So we  started looking for a game to join.  We were surprised and delighted at  how easy that task proved to be.  Indeed, we were welcomed to a table  and complimented on our role playing.  The DM said it was refreshing to  invite players who knew the rules and I personally found it equally  refreshing to be a PC/hero after two years as DM.
However,  arguments were occurring at the table, not with Tam or I, but between  the other players.  One player left the game permanently.  He was so  disgusted that he decided to stop gaming all together.  That was a shame  because he was instrumental in our initiation to the campaign and we  really liked his playing style.  I won’t bore you with further  negativity about that scenario; suffice to say that although we  persisted with that campaign, the ‘fun’ had clearly left the building.   The grownups at the table were behaving like children.  Correction –  children behave better.
Again  I needed to re-evaluate my needs and desires in the world of RPG’s.   What is it that I really enjoy about D&D?  That’s easy – it’s the  storytelling, the creativity, the challenge, the puzzles, the teamwork,  the fantasy, the combat, the dice rolling, the spontaneity and the  anticipation.  Mostly though, it’s the look on the faces of the players  around the table when . . . well when anything happens.  When Dark  Vision reveals a lurking dragon, or a Wizard teleports a stupid Ogre off  a bridge, or the DM rewards a PC with a magic weapon, or the entire  party completely missed the objective and got arrested by the village  militia.  It’s the facial expressions and the sounds of ‘oooh’ and  ‘aaahh’ that fulfil my senses; much like watching a movie thriller.  
 
I  also realised that I missed playing with my youngest son.  Did I  mention he’s a genius?  D&D has been excellent for him.  He knows  every stat of every monster in the manual.  I’ve even asked him to DM a  campaign known as “The Sceptre Tower of SpellGard”, and at only nine  years old he did a remarkable job.  (I think he likes rats just as much  as you do.)  His mental arithmetic is . . . intimidating to say the  least.  Best of all, his smile and his laugh are infectious, contagious  and frequent.
The  solution is obvious.  My wife, my son and I need to host a game that  caters to kids. We could invite parents and their kids to our house.   Perfect!  
Hang  on! That will require some research and careful planning.  Although I  have been DM for my own kids, and I know their personalities very well,  there were many problems that caused arguments at our table.  It could  be worse with strangers and their kids.  Therefore, many questions need  to be answered before we jump in the deep end:
 
What is the minimum age that I should accept at the table?
Should I use a scripted/published adventure or write my own?
Character generation and levelling up could be very complicated. How do I simplify it?
How do I maintain balance (and interest) between role-play and combat?
Sandbox or railroad?
Should I handle rewards differently?
 
How do I police behaviour and discipline? 
Do I omit religion?
How much gore and violence (if any) can or can’t be included?
 
Will there be tears and permanent emotional scars if a PC dies?
I assume girls will respond differently to boys.  So what can I expect and how do I cater?  
As  I said, you have already answered most of my questions.  When I Googled  “D&D for kids.”  I found your July post on the Wizards community  forum and I was immediately attracted to the words, “author of the  D&D Kids tutorial series.” 
Then  I found the famous article that apparently ‘broke the internet’ titled,  “D&D Kids: Girls at the Table”.  You said in your (un)disclaimer,  “my aim as I embarked on this monumental project was to help DMs avoid  some of the pitfalls into which I had stumbled in the beginning of my  career”.  Eureka! I have found the mother-load. You are speaking  directly to me.  I have much to say abut this article but my spider  senses tell me that you may be sick of talking about it, so I’ll say  only this: Boys and Girls respond differently because they are  different.  Knowledge is to be shared.  Those with experience teaching  boys and girls have acquired knowledge regarding the differences and  should pass this knowledge onto other teachers for their mutual  benefit.  I thank you Uri Kurlianchik for passing this valuable  knowledge onto me.  
Yes,  I also read the comments from people such as Kynn (or Caoimhe), and I  was saddened by the smear campaign.  I shall offer a unique perspective  to this, because the whole saga makes me contemplate the Super Heroes’  Curse.  Huh? The what now? Well, have you seen the Will Smith movie -  ‘Hancock’?  Or perhaps you’ve watched Pixar’s - ‘The Incredibles’?  The  concept at the beginning of both movies is the same – the super heroes  are criticized and even sued by the public for leaving a mess and  damaging public property each time they rescue someone.  The super  heroes become disillusioned and depressed with their own lives.  What  the hell am I talking about?  My point is you were only trying to help  by passing on your knowledge and experience.  Although there will always  be people who criticize and cut down the tall poppies, I’m glad that  you continue to do what you do.  You summed it up nicely on Saturday,  November 12, 2011 when you said, “I rule. You don't.”  (I also like that  you don’t take it all too seriously and your quirky sense of humour  shines through at all times.  Hopefully you can hear in my tone and by  my ‘super hero curse’ analogy and other absurd parallels that I am also  talking somewhat tongue-in-cheek.)
I continued to read all of your articles as listed on dndkids.com  and you continued to answer most of my questions. (I’m writing this  next section to ‘think out loud’, and also to provide mutual  confidence.) 
How much gore and violence (if any) can or can’t be included?
One  of my favourite movies from the late 80’s is ‘Parenthood’ with Steve  Martin.  So many good lines – even from Keanu Reeves, “you need a  license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell, you even need a license to  catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming asshole be a father.”   Anyway, before I start quoting all my favourite lines, the scene that’s  relevant for this topic is when Steve Martin’s character Gil Buchman has  to dress as a cowboy for his son’s birthday party because ‘Cowboy Dan’,  the hired balloon-animal clown, didn’t arrive:  
The kids aren’t fooled, “You´re Kevin´s father.  You´re not Cowboy Dan.” 
“That´s  right” says Gil in a southern drawl, “They call me Cowboy Gil...as in  ‘guil-ty’.  I saw Cowboy Dan.  I didn't like the look on his face. It  was like this, so l killed him.”  The kids look a little pleased so Gil  continues, “I blew a hole in him this big.”  The kids don’t seem overly  impressed so he embellishes, “Actually it was about this big.” Some  applause.  “You know, when I think about it, that hole was about this  big.”  The group, (mostly boys) cheer loudly and Kevin is delighted with  his Dad. Gil continues, “And his guts were spilled out all over the  floor.  As I was walkin´ away, I slip around on his guts.  A couple of  other people came by and started slippin´ on his guts too.  After I blow  a hole in somebody and slip around on their guts...afterwards, I always  like to make balloon animals.”  Gil begins to twist balloons into a  shape that resembles no living animal on earth, and the kids look  disappointed – until Gil announces, “Your lower intestines!”  The kids  laugh and shout and applaud.
The  kids know that it’s all pretend.  They’re smart enough to separate  fantasy from reality and they will never act out the fantasy in real  life.  They don’t want to hurt anyone.
I  like your universal solution of making the violence over the top or  funny and very metaphorical; just like Gil Buchman did.  I shall honour  your sixth commandment, “Thou Shalt Be Gory, Goofy, and Cool!” because I  want my son and his friends to smile; just like Kevin did.  You’re  right - it is a controversial position and I will certainly be mindful  and respectful of parent’s wishes.  The last thing I want is traumatised  kids.  If parents ask me to never mention blood, then I’ll call it  ‘goo’ or ‘slime’ or ‘pus’; Nickelodeon-esque.  That reminds me, I  downloaded some amazing poster-size maps created by a brilliant  cartographer/Photoshop expert, and for every map that displays blood  spatter, he has another version with luminescent green goo to  accommodate and appease parents.
 
I assume girls will respond differently to boys.  So what can I expect and how do I cater?  
In  my youngest sons’ early years, we offered him toys from both gender  stereotypes. For example: cars, trains, tools and footballs were made  available, but so too were dolls, perambulators and tea sets.  He always  opted for the ‘boys toys’ and our friend’s daughter always opted for  the ‘girls toys’.  It would not have been a problem if my son had chosen  to play with the dolls, but he just didn’t want to.
My  wife found it very interesting when you profiled that girls “like  nature-based, ranged and quick classes, and value Dexterity more than  any other ability.”  You said, “Girls I played with preferred short and  stocky characters to lithe and elegant ones. Given free reign, most  started the game as dwarves, mulls, halflings or simply short humans. I  think the character statistically most likely to be attractive to girls  is a female eladrin ranger. Describe her as a friend of nature and a  protector of the forest, not as a hunter or avenger.”  Interesting  because the two characters Tamara has developed, up to level 17, are a  female Halfling Ranger and a female Gnome Bard. Furthermore, I  personally think Tamara plays the game better than anyone else at the  grownups table.
I  don’t want to lose good players so I will do as you suggested and  intervene a little at first. I think I will role-play the NPC’s to pay  attention to the pets.  That might encourage the girls to respond  imaginatively.  I’m also thinking maps and puzzle stimuli.  I love  puzzles.
A few apologies:
If you have read this far, I apologise for keeping you away from your family and I thank you for your persistence.  
I  apologise for mentioning “Wizards of the Coast” as that must leave a  sour taste in your ears. ;-)  Seriously though, I can’t believe they  have removed your articles.  I was looking for Mavet Rav because that  article has a legendary reputation.  
 
I  apologise on behalf of the rude people who say your classes looks like a  jungle.  They mean to insult you, but I’m pleased you are complimented  because I agree - a jungle is such a nicer place than a prison.  With  that you remind me of Robin Williams as Professor John Keating in “Dead  Poet’s Society.”  Carpe Diem.
I  look forward to putting into practise all you have taught me.  I look  forward to “resting safely, knowing that I served as a fine guide for a  bunch of warlike young tourists making their first steps in a fantastic  world we built together.”
Who am I?  I am a teacher.  I teach software at Sydney University.  Pleased to meet you,
Paul.
Sydney, Australia.