The Joy and Chaos of D&D Woodworking Projects
You know, there’s something about the smell of fresh pine that just gets to me. I’m sitting here in my little workshop, sun streaming in through the dusty windows, and honestly, it feels like home. Funny thing is, I never expected to find so much joy in woodworking, especially in the context of Dungeons & Dragons. But when the pandemic rolled in and pushed everyone indoors, I found myself diving headfirst into this hobby.
I remember the first project I tackled: a simple dice tray. You know, something for my friends and me to roll our dice in without them flying off the table and into my cat’s food bowl. No one wants to retrieve a d20 from a dish of cat chow—that’s just a fact. I whipped out some pine boards I had lying around and got to work. Now, I’m not gonna lie, I thought it’d be a breeze. Just cut some pieces, slap ’em together, and call it a day, right?
Well, let me tell you, the universe had other plans.
The First Cut
I started out all fresh-faced, measuring and marking, trying to remember everything I learned in shop class back in high school. You ever have that moment where confidence is just overflowing, and you think, "Yeah, I got this"? That was me, blissfully unaware of the struggle that lay ahead.
I was using my dad’s old circular saw, and it grunted and wheezed like it hadn’t been used in ages. But I felt like a pro; I plugged it in, took a deep breath, and made my first cut. Noise? Yeah. Smooth? Not so much. Turns out, I didn’t account for the angle, and instead of a clean edge, I ended up with this janky cut that looked like it had been done during an earthquake.
Man, I almost gave up right then and there. I sat on the floor, sawdust settling around me like a fog of defeat. But then I thought about all those epic game nights where my characters rolled nat 20s, and I chuckled a little. I wasn’t going to let a rogue cut ruin my dice tray.
The Glue That Holds Us Together
I picked myself up and started gluing the pieces together, which is not as glamorous as it sounds. Let me tell you, wood glue has a mind of its own. One minute, everything’s fine, then boom—a little too much squeeze-out, and I’ve got this sticky mess I’m trying to wipe off before it dries. I can almost hear my grandma from down the road saying, “Haste makes waste, you know!”
After what felt like an eternity of trying to align the corners just right, I finally clamped everything down. There’s something oddly satisfying about clamping wood—like a sense of finality, you know? You set it down, walk away, and hope you didn’t mess it up too badly.
But then, of course, there’s the inevitable wait. I sipped some coffee and paced around, staring at the clamps like they were going to magically solve my problems. I think I even turned to Netflix for a distraction; just me, a bad rom-com, and the clamping saga of the century.
Those Final Touches
After a few hours, I returned to check on my masterpiece. Let me tell you, popping those clamps off felt like unwrapping a Christmas gift—not that I was expecting anything exceptional, mind you. But honestly, it took my breath away. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, and I could see the gaps where the glue seeped through, but it felt like a piece of me—crafted with love and all that jazz.
I sanded it down with some 220-grit paper, feeling reflections of the countless times I’d tried to smooth my own edges in life. When I finally finished, I treated it with a coat of food-safe mineral oil. The wood absorbed it like a sponge, and the difference was like watching a flower bloom—those grains came to life! And the smell? Oh gosh, it was heavenly.
But here was the kicker. When I finally hosted my friends for a game night, we rolled our dice, and I heard that delightful clattering against the wood. And you know what? I laughed when it actually worked. That little dice tray brought us closer together, and that first successful roll encouraged me to adventure into even bigger projects.
Bumps Along the Way
Now, don’t think it’s been all smooth sailing. No, sir. I tried building a D&D-themed coffee table next, and let me tell you, that was a saga for the ages. I had more moments of despair than I’d like to admit, including a time when the legs went all wobbly because I miscalculated the measurements.
But every mistake taught me something new, like why it’s crucial to invest in a good square and why you should always, always measure twice—no, three times! Each project added to the patchwork of my skills, and truthfully, maybe even my patience.
Just Dive In
So, here I am, a small-town woodworker who found his passion in crafting beautiful, functional pieces for my beloved D&D games. And it all started from a simple desire to keep my dice off my cat’s dinner.
If there’s one takeaway I’d like to share, it’s this: If you’re even remotely thinking about diving into woodworking—just go for it. Don’t get caught up in the fear of "What if I mess up?" Look, everyone messes up; it’s part of the journey. I promise you’ll laugh, you’ll learn, and who knows what magic you’ll create in the process?
