#RPGaDay2024, Day 31 – Gamer I miss…

Sammy: A First-Line Friend

I have reached a certain age where the death of friends, acquaintances, and even loved ones is not necessarily unexpected. Last year was particularly hard; two close and dear friends died, and their loss is still acutely felt. Both were near and dear to my heart, people I had known for many years and who had been very influential. One was José Javier Rivera, a mentor, business partner, and friend; the other was Samuel “Sammy” Maldonado, a friend and fellow gamer who played my games for years. I would like to remember Sammy today.

I’ve mentioned Sammy in previous posts, in 2010, 2011 (twice), 2013, and 2014 (again twice!), on Days 11 and 14 of RPG a Day 2016.

I met Sammy in 1990 when the Rifts had just been published. I was in High School, and my local comic store did not have the books. The salesperson at the store mentioned a gaming store with the books. A gaming store? He explained to my grandfather how to get there, and he drove us; the Gaming Emporium store, the first FLGS in Puerto Rico, was in Sammy’s house, and we knocked on the door and called out before he came out of the game room in the back and sold me and my friend Luis Miranda the books.

That was my first contact with the man, the legend! We remained connected through gaming for decades. We shared friends and hung out in the same circles, and eventually, in 2002 or thereabouts, he joined our weekly game. Sammy was a talented player. He created memorable characters; the concept was always more important than the rules. He would play the characters he wanted, even if they were not optimal. The bard Oberon and his horseman barbarian, resurrected as a halfling, are but two of the most memorable. Oberon profoundly changed and influenced my campaign world.  

But we grew close outside the game. We would spend time together after the game, and Sammy joined a book club with my non-gamer friends. We eventually moved our weekly game to his house, where the Gaming Emporium store used to be. He had a gaming room in the back, with a huge table and a room full of books and minis. He called that game room Sammy’s Playhouse. His regular gaming groups that met there were known as the Mequetrefes.

Just look at the table!

When I divorced in 2005, hanging out at his house and going out for dinner and drinks became commonplace. Eventually, my friends planned a trip to GenCon in 2007, and I went with them and Sammy for the first time that year—seventeen years ago!

Sammy was a brilliant man who talked knowledgeably about myriad subjects. He also marched to his beat, rarely taking the well-traveled path and often taking positions meant to elicit a response from his interlocutor. His humor could be biting, and he frequently mischievously pushed the envelope to the brink.

We had different personalities, upbringings, and life experiences and approached relationships differently. These differences led to our distancing. We had different visions of the boundaries humor and jabs should have concerning your friends’ significant others. We had a falling out; I stopped playing at his house, and our regular weekly group split up. I kept playing, but my closeness with Sammy was sundered.

However, we remained friends, kept in touch, and eventually renewed some closeness. We didn’t see each other as often, but we talked and saw each other occasionally. He wanted to play our weekly game again, but we had too many people at the table, and I have a strict policy these days not to bring additional players to the game without the group’s consent. Some in the group were concerned about his personality and how it would affect group dynamics.

We occasionally played together, but he didn’t sit at my table as a regular player again. I regret not doing so more. I could have been more effective in managing our differences, but would he have been amicable to that? Some things remained unsaid, and I regret it. But there is no use in dwelling on that now. I’d rather remember the good times we had together.

He loved Middle Earth, and his MERP games were legendary. He also played the most recent versions of Middle Earth, which used D&D 5e rules with gusto. That’s how I like to remember him, having long conversations with him about what he wanted to do with his campaign when he got to play. His health declined after Hurricane María, and I could see the toll it took on him. He died too soon. He was only sixty years old.

In his typical irascible humor, Sammy would joke that certain members of our gaming group were first-line friends, “amigos de primera fila,” and that he wasn’t in that select group. I never felt that way, and he was always a first-line member of the group and a first-line friend. I miss you, Sammy. Thanks for playing with us, the memories, and your friendship.

When I learned of his passing in September last year, I wrote this: Today, we said goodbye to a great friend. Sammy was smart and dedicated, a passionate teacher, generous with his friendship, and often a curmudgeon or a contrarian. He marched to his own drumbeat but left a deep, indelible mark in our lives. Let us not remember the sad times but the many happy moments we shared. ¡De primera fila Sammy!

As we approach the first anniversary of his passing, I would like to raise the dice and roll in his honor. Chukling!

Post-Scrip: This past month, I’ve had to be away from home often due to work. RPG A Day this year has been a refuge on those nights I wish I was home, and it kept me busy. I love the RPG a Day community. I apologize if I haven’t been that active and haven’t been interacting with more people. It’s been a strange month. Big thank you to David Chapman and everyone who makes #RPGaDay possible. Also, thanks to Michael Wolf, aka Stargazer, for always having a place for me here, even when I disappear for months. But most of all, thanks to you all for reading!

See you all for RPG a Day 2025.