MY LIFE IN HORROR : Of Wolf And Man

Note: For this column, I have resisted all urges to do contemporary research prior to writing – I want to capture as authentically as I can my own memory and impressions of the subject. So the whole 'this is not journalism' thing is particularly and spectacularly apt this time. If you're interested in accuracy with regard to the subject, I'm sure there's half a dozen wikis out there – knock yourself out.

In a previous column, I discussed a particularly dark period of my life, and how music was one of the few threads that kept me tethered to some notion of happiness, of life as something to be lived rather than just survived. That's all true, of course, but as I cast my mind back to that time, I discovered, with some small measure of surprise, that it actually wasn't the whole story. There was one other significant activity that I regularly partook of, with the small group of friends I lived with, which helped keep me, if not exactly sane, at least on the right side of chronic depression.

That activity was a product of the White Wolf publishing company. A tabletop role-playing game called Werewolf: The Apocalypse.

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