But I made a profit far greater than I ever expected from running AGF, and it wasn’t until Dragon Con of 2007 that I realized it. It was then that I realized why I had gone through all of this, put up with all of this, and why it still means so god damned much to me. And ultimately, this realization made me understand- at last- why I am a gamer.

The night before Dragon Con, I was at my usual get-together at one of the local universities and out of nowhere, The Kid showed up. I hadn’t seen him in a while although we stayed in touch constantly after AGF went under. He was in all new clothes, very expensive boots, and he looked like he was strangely underweight. He was never the most stable person to begin with, but I noticed something was really wrong. He seemed cagey, a little wired, and unfocused. He told me that his adopted parents were thinking about putting him in a group home because he had spent $10,000 of his parents’ money- which was intended to be his tuition to a local art school- on a bunch of random crap, presumably including his new wardrobe. He was really excited about Dragon Con, but he couldn’t afford to go. He had never been until that year AGF had a table and he probably had more fun than anyone I had ever gone with to the convention I drove him home since he had taken the bus to the school, and I told him I would pay his way to get him into the convention. He was going to call me in the morning from a payphone since his parents shut off his cell phone so I could come pick him up.

I haven’t heard from The Kid since. And I still wonder if AGF was the high point of his life, the one time when he was able to really be himself, engage in normal relationships, and really get the most out of life. The funny thing is that I never even really knew where he lived; just that he had a room in a run-down triplex a block away from the store.

Dragon Con proceeded as normal even without The Kid- the usual cavalcade of full-frontal nerdity went on pretty much the same way it had every year at least since I’d been going. I’ve long since tired of a lot of the kinds of things that go on at conventions but I still go mainly because it’s a chance to reconnect with friends and spend time with people I really only get to see once a year. Nothing special, particularly memorable, or interesting really happens there any more, but this year something did that meant everything in the world to me.

We were standing in the Celebrity Graveyard (what I call the autograph hall, where you can meet “celebrities” who have passed on to the ignominy of signing autographs for $20 a pop, such as Frank Stallone, Lori “Tank Girl” Petty, and the cast of FIREFLY) and I looked around at my group of friends. It was the biggest group of friends I had ever had around me at one time. There were people I knew just a little bit, people I had played some games with, and people that I had become really good friends with through the store.

All my employees were there. My wife, who had designed the store’s logos, T-shirts, and all those flyers we passed out there in 2005 was with me. We were talking, joking, and having a good time and none of it had anything to do with gaming even though it was the common thread that had brought us all together at that particular spot at that particular time. I had affected these people; I had created something that made a difference in their lives. The store that had made it all possible- my store- was long gone but the things that mattered remained even without walls to contain them. They remained. And almost every single one of them was wearing an Atlanta Game Factory t-shirt.

I realized that at the end of things, I didn’t do any of this for myself. I didn’t do this to make money or even to satisfy something in me that needed to be around games or involved in the hobby at a higher level than mere entertainment. I did this to share with people something I really love with all my heart, something that has rewarded me over many years not in cash flow, entrepreneurial success, or material satisfaction but with friendships- and with the simple joy of connecting with other human beings on an intelligent level and in the act of play.

I did this for The Kid. I did it all for Phat Joe, Pacer, Ianuzzi the Calabrian, Karls both Hot and Kold, Billy Motion, Gentle Pat, Helliot, Big Red, L’il Stu, Marne’, Eggplant Man, Duke, and everybody else who made AGF what it was and what it still is, those who made the store a second home. I did it all for the guy that came in and asked me what the good games were and then went off to start his own business selling them.

I did it for the kid who came in with his dad and bought his first WARHAMMER 40K miniatures. I did it for Daddy-O the Bluesman, who likely made his only meals from the chips, drinks, and candy I gave him. I did it for Tatu and his crew so that they could have somewhere to hold their VAMPIRE CCG tournaments. I did it for Branham, Baden, and Launius, who’d leave the store with piles of games to add to their already enormous libraries. I did it for that kindly older gentleman who giggled like a child when he opened his new copy of WACHT AM RHEIN in the store. I did it for all the people whose names I never knew that came into the store and took something out of it that they shared with their friends and family.

I did it all for my friends and to give people somewhere to make gaming possible. In the final accounting of it all, gaming is about bringing people together to socialize, interact, and create relationships over a common interest in playing. The gaming hobby should never be about getting rich, tracking what games you’ve played or those that you’ve won or lost, demonstrating to others how clever or smart you are, or escaping from the real world into the safety of vicarious fantasy. It is, and should always be, about making the most of our time with friends and family as well as connecting with those who share our enthusiasm for creating tiny, temporary worlds in which we can let our imaginations have full reign to interact, grow, and play. If you are gaming for any other reason or if you are involved in the hobby on any level other than that, then I think you’ve missed something somewhere along the way.