The Geek Girls Survival Guide #2

I have an irrational fear of game shops.

There’s a store in the mall next to my house—Games People Play. The front of the store is filled with normal games. Monopoly. Twister. Scrabble. I can wander through this section of the store at my leisure, perusing the merchandise. Wander toward the back and there’s a doorway opening into the second half of the store--the gaming section. From the doorway one can see an array of dice, gaming books, minis—all the usual trappings.

That doorway might as well be made of glass. I’ve stood there several times, and for the life of me I can’t bring myself to step forward.

It’s not that I think people in game shops are weird…it’s not even that I’m afraid of looking like a nerd.

I’m afraid of making a fool of myself.

You see, being a girl in a game shop is like being a guy in Victoria Secret. Everyone stares at you, and you feel like a freak.

Until last week, I’d been inside a game shop exactly twice. The first time I was with four friends, two of them guys. This was just before I began roleplaying, so I didn’t have anything to worry about. I was most decidedly a tag-along. Some friends bought me a set of D10s for Christmas last year, so I was able to avoid going to a game shop until spring.

Then my group switched to D&D. I’m not a fan of sharing dice (gives my DM too much opportunity to curse them), so I knew I was going to have to brave the dreaded game shop.

I practically begged some gamer friends to go with me. I just couldn’t face it on my own.

In the spirit of the geek Girl’s Survival Guide, I decided to brave the game shop last week to face my fear.

It was a Saturday afternoon, and I walked over to the mall, determined to go in the game shop if it killed me. I walked through the mall feeling confident. It was just a game shop. How scary could it be?

As I came to the back of the shop, entering forbidden territory, I found tables with 25 or 30 men gathered around them, all intent on some game involving minis and dice.

A couple of fifteen-year-olds started staring at me before I even managed to get through the doorway.

I couldn’t take it. I ran.

Later I found out I’d picked National D&D day to brave the shop. Either I had the worst luck in the world, or I was fated to be frightened forever.

I had to try a new tactic. There was no way I was going to be able to face this on my own, so I developed a new plan.

I took someone who was even more scared of game shops than I was.

“I don’t want to go,” Chimera said. “Scary men will hit on me.”

I laughed. “It’s just a game shop,” I said. “Nothing scary will happen.”

I’m such a hypocrite.

After much discussion of wardrobe choice, (“I don’t want to look too cute!” says Chimera. “Weird guys might look at me!”) I finally convinced her to accompany me to downtown Provo to the nerdiest game shop around: Dragon’s Keep.

We managed to make it all the way downtown and park on the street outside the store before the fear became too much for Chimera.

“I’m not going in,” she said. “There’s going to be scary people. I’m not going.” In any given situation, there is a quota of freaking-out beyond which everyone else just needs to be calm. At that moment, Chimera was eating up the whole quota all on her own. I had to be the brave one.

“We’re going in,” I said, “Come on.”

It took me another five minutes to coax her out of the car, but eventually she came with me.

I was immediately faced with another problem. What does one do in a game store? Look at games, allegedly, but I was so unfamiliar with the layout of such stores that I had no idea where to look.

I probably had about the same look of confusion I see on the faces of men who venture into my fabric store—somewhere between bewilderment and absolute shock. The sales associate quickly came to our rescue.

Here’s what I discovered about my fear: it’s all in my head.

The man didn’t act at all like Chimera and I didn’t belong there. I asked for the White Wolf games, but they were sold out, so instead I looked at the new Serenity game, which I probably would have bought if I had money for such things. On closer inspection I even discovered that the gaming group at the back of the store was joined by a girl.

Good for her.

Having faced the dreaded game shop, I feel much more comfortable with my irrational fear. I even managed to go to Game Den at the Provo Mall a few days later, which I found is disappointingly mainstream. And they don’t carry White Wolf books. The heathens.

Perhaps I am alone in my irrational fear. I have some friends who tell me they like to go into game shops in formal dresses, just for kicks. (Girls, of course.)

But if not, nerd girls, I challenge you to face your fears. Game shops are not as scary as they seem, and if they are, you can always follow Chimera’s example and follow it up with a trip to Old Navy. It seems trendy clothes banish the gaming taint. Or so she tells me.

I think she’s in denial, but don’t tell her I said that. I’ll bring her to the nerd side yet. Just wait and see.

Discuss it in our forums.

Written by MsFish on November 21st, 2005