Wesley, I’m proud of you.

“Can I come over and play Dragon Age?” My son asked me.

“Sure. I’m just going to watch more Land of the Lost tonight, so knock yourself out.” I said.

Ryan doesn’t have Dragon Age at his house, and when he was house sitting for me a few weeks ago, he fell in love with it the same way I did. He likes to unwind with his Inquisitor the same way I do, and the world of Thedas has come to live in his imagination the same way it has in mine.

“I think we’ve both earned a night of goofing off,” I added. Ryan is the co-creator of the world and main storyline in the Tabletop RPG show, and he and I have been writing together for months, now, almost every single day, and yesterday we finally finished the hardest part of our work. Yesterday, we handed everything off to the lead RPG designer, and exhaled for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah, we totally have. You’re gonna be Mister Done tonight.” He said.

Mister Done?

“Um,” I said.

“Because I’m going to destroy you at Mister Do!,” he said.

“Come at me, bro.”

I have a Mister Do! machine (well, it’s actually a multi machine that I mostly use to play Mister Do!) in my game room, and I think I’ve gotten pretty good at Mister Do!. I’m not, like, Kill-Screen-Coming-Up good, but my high score at the moment is just over 92,000, and I average in the mid 70,000s per game. Ryan’s made it one of his life goals to beat my high score, and while part of me wants to keep that score safely out of his reach, another part of me wants to teach my son how to master the intricacies of being a clown who runs away from dinosaurs and eats many times his weight in cherries.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.

I went out for lunch, had a delightfully spicy Cajun chicken sandwich, and read a bunch of the material I needed to prepare for work on Monday. For the first time in weeks, the overwhelming sense of panic and dread that I didn’t have enough time and wasn’t ready to do this show was met by some genuine excitement and anticipation, because I only have to wait a few days before I get to start exploring the world we created with some amazing players who have created extremely interesting and complex characters.

CUT TO:

A clown running through a brightly colored maze. He is chased by a small dinosaur, that is rapidly gaining on him. He runs beneath an apple, which falls on and crushes the dinosaur. Then another apple that was above the first shakes itself loose and falls on and crushes the clown, because this game is bullshit.

“What the shit?!” I shouted.

“Wow, that sucked. I’m up.”

I stepped aside and began to weave a tapestry of profanity over the game room, in the style of The Old Man from A Christmas Story.

Electric Ladyland played on the Sonos, the doors to the game room were wide open, and the dogs chased each other around the back yard. It had been 91 a few hours earlier, but now it was about 83, and suddenly the oppressive heatwave we’re having in freaking March didn’t seem so bad.

As we played the game, I told Ryan why I made certain choices to maximize points, why I chose to let a level end rather than chase another few thousand points, and how to avoid the giant fucking bullshit of an apple falling on you for no good reason.

“I try to average ten thousand points a level, and if I don’t have my first extra guy by the third screen, I know I’m gonna have a bad time,” I told him.

He heeded my advice, and over the course of several games, I watched him get better and better, averaging a score in the mid to upper 40s.

I don’t know if it’s because we’re only separated by 17 years, or if it’s because we had to work so hard to earn our family, or if it’s because Anne and I raised two really awesome, amazing kids, but I genuinely love hanging out with my adult children. I’m closer to my boys than I am to anyone in my nuclear family, and if you’d told me that this is how it would be when they were on the cusp of adolescence and their biological father was making our lives a miserable hell, I would have told you that you were full of shit.

And yet.

With Anne out of town, and Ryan’s girlfriend spending the evening with her sister, here we were. We were two adults, father and son, playing games together after having burritos for dinner (of course), after working really hard to write a TV show together and I wouldn’t trade a single second of the pain we endured to get here.

We played a few more games, and I headed inside to watch TV while he played Dragon Age in the game room.

I ended up watching TNG on BBC America. The episode was Pen Pals, and I had completely forgotten everything about it, even though it’s a fantastic Wesley Crusher story — maybe one of the best ones we ever did.

I felt like I was watching someone else, who looked just like me, rise to the occasion of some really great writing, in an episode that completely holds up, almost 30 years later. It was a strange feeling to be watching myself without judgment or wishing I’d made a different choice or just … acted better, I guess.

Put another way, I could see how a smart kid or the parent of a smart kid could have watched that episode and identified with Wesley Crusher, because he wasn’t just an idea. He was a person who was dealing with some heavy stuff that he wasn’t quite ready to deal with.

I watched the entire episode, and I cheered for Wesley when the stupid adults who never listened to him or respected him gave him credit for having the insight to run the fucking scan that made all the difference. I can see how a cynic or someone who was just determined to hate the character no matter what could roll his eyes at that, but I thought it was handled in a way that was grounded in the reality of the show, and not just I feel strange but also good.

I looked at that kid, who grew up to be this adult, and I identified with him in an entire new way. I identified with him as a parent who raised two kids who were a lot like that him — struggling to deal with with a bunch of really heavy shit they weren’t ready to deal with, wanting to do the right thing, but being paralyzed by self doubt — and for the first time in decades, I had a new reason to be proud of wearing Wesley Crusher’s goofy grin and helmet hair.

I turned off the TV, and went back out to our game room, to spend some more time with my son.

 

36 thoughts on “Wesley, I’m proud of you.”

  1. Its wonderful how close you are with your sons and how you share similar interests.

    On another matter, the last paragraphs of this post brings up the question: when will Memories of the Future Vol. 2 be published? 🙂

  4. Full Circle. Congrats. Forgiving the things we do, or don’t, as a kid (even a very public one) comes after a very long time, if ever. Being a parent also gave me insight into choices I made as a youth. Though I still can’t explain my ninja phase.

    Good and bad, wear the skin you’re in.. come back around and see your self for the first time. (high cliche count exceeded) Kids will do that.. or Alzheimer’s.

    Love Tabletop! Keep up the good work!

    My nearly adult mini nerd has not yet beaten me at Mr Do. Also my favorite. What’s your stance on Do’s Castle? Any other arcade favorites?

    I’d watch a show on classic arcade. Sadly, It wouldn’t have the same exciting interaction as Tabletop.

    Invite me to come play Tabletop, and I’ll tell you about the time I got to play Nolan Bushnell, Stewart Brand (whole earth catalog) Steve “slug” Russell (creator of first computer space game) ON the actual computer space four player hardware.. and spacewar! on the PDP-1. (and other exciting stories) while @ the CHM.

    http://www.computerhistory.org/collections/catalog/102695272. (I recorded this lecture for CHM, back in the day)

  5. This made me smile so big! My favorite of your blogs are the ones about anne and/ your kids 🙂

  6. I enjoy a great deal of your work[1], but it’s your autobiographical writing that resonates most with me, even when talking about experiences that I’ve never had.

    [1] Didn’t have a TV while growing up, but I caught reruns of TNG when in my 20s. Even then, I thought Wesley was awesome, the doing the sort of stuff I had wanted to do in my childhood.

  7. Sounds like you two had a fun night. 91°F in March??? Holy mackerel Batman! Thought Florida was bad. 🙁 Need some cool weather, come to Tampa, its cool right now. (60s.)

  8. I absolutely adore your family stories. You’re so damn lovely, each time I read something about your sons or Anne, I automatically tilt my head to the side and smile.

  9. another part of me wants to teach my son how to master the intricacies of being a clown who runs away from dinosaurs and eats many times his weight in cherries.

    This is how it’s done, people. Class dismissed.

  12. You and Anne and your sons have an incredible life and I know it is not easy street from reading some of your posts. The love and friendship you all share is the glue that gives your life it’s richness. Your family while totally different than mine is totally the same, which is one of the reasons I find what you share so interesting, fun, encouraging, and sweet. Thank you Wil Wheaton for being you.

  14. I know this is going to sound weird, and maybe you have already addressed this, but I would love to see your game room 🙂 My wife, daughter and I are putting together our game room finally!

  15. I love your parenting posts. They give me a lot of hope as we are going through a bit of hell right now figuring out how to manage my daughter’s explosive anxiety attacks.

    It’s going to be okay.

  16. I was quite the lad at Mr. Do myself. Or maybe that was Mr. Do’s Wild Ride. I don’t remember.

    I’m happy you continue to find peace with Wesley.

  17. One of the weirdest things in the world is to be an actor and watch your own work. I’m pretty old (I went to “jr. high school/rival high schools with Jonathon Frakes” old Go Nitschmann Drama Club!) and my daughter thought you were wonderful as Wesley. OK, she had a crush on you (But now she’s a Sharks fan and you know what that means). And you turned out really good….unlike some other child actors we won’t mention. Even as creaky in the bones as I am, I LMAO during your ScyFy show, The Wil Wheaton Project. It was creative and hilarious and I was shocked when it was canceled. It brought back a lot o memories of raising my daughter (He man, those toys! The Skeletor bit was very funny. I hope you get paid every time he tries to sell a car now). I was so sorry to see the show go. Congrats on an interesting, creative, funny show for nerds and other people. May there be many more. Play More Games!

  19. i saw pen pals was on the other night. it is interesting getting this insight from you on then vs now; great post… thank you for sharing this.

  20. What a beautiful way to show the younger you, compassion. And, to the benefit of the present you and your sons as well.

  22. I’m the mother whose son is highly intelligent. I didn’t relate to the Crushers when I first saw the show, but now when I see these episodes from this perspective, I see how well both Dr. Crusher and Wesley were handled and how well you both portrayed the dynamic in such a relationship. I’m glad you are proud of Wesley, you should be. As my son said when he watched it with me, “Sure, they get annoyed with him, but he’s right. I like him.” Sums it up. He’s a neuroscientist now. Thanks, Wesley.

  23. I have often wondered, though you’re too young to ask and I will be gone by the time you’re old enough, what it’s like for actors in big-action adventure shows to watch their mid-20s selves kicking ass and taking names, then lever themselves up onto the walker to hobble off and change their colostomy bag. Just curious. I don’t know if I could take it.

    As to the family part, as they grow, so they live. My daughter (mid 30s) and I (mid-60s) have always been like Butch and Sundance, especially teaming up on things from Rainbow Six to Halo. Didn’t realize how close, though, until I was in a coma for three weeks last year, and she was at my bedside making the calls on everything, like a she-wolf with an injured cub. A great job you’ve done, one that will pay dividends for the rest of your life. Enjoy!

  24. Having awesome adult (step)children and more growing along their path… and knowing Weasley as I do, this is very touching. Your perspective of your life is so personal and intimate yet you share it freely here. Thank you.

    So many feels…

  25. I can hear some twisted version of Cats in the Cradle playing in the background while reading this article. I have a daughter (12 years old) and one day hope to be able to spend these kind of precious moments with her one day.

    I would call you a lucky man, but it’s hardly luck when you have put so much good work into it.

  28. I too am always amazed at the awesome adults my children became. And you are wise to remember that the relationship we have with our kids as grown ups will be the one that last the longest.

  31. I’m so glad I came back to Goodreads and came upon this post there.

    My near 17 year old son who I have helped raise since he was 7,is on the cusp of adulthood and it sounds like our family is experiencing a similar hellish ride that you and yours had in the past. Reading this did two things for me.

    1.It reminds me I MUST rewatch TNG as it has been so long since I have watched it.

    It GIVES ME HOPE. My Hope-O-Meter is a full bar once more! I feel confident again that my family will get through the testosterone, the testing of boundaries, and the already beginning rollercoaster ride of our teenage daughter’s journey as well.

    Fortunately, we are a family of gamers and have pixels and polyhedral dice as a common thread. When that’s not available, and it’s time for the mom jeans to come on…I’ll remember to listen more to my teens and let them “run the fucking scan”. It’s a good thing!

    Thanks, Wil. You have really opened my eyes back up and reminded me that my family and I can do this.

    Do me a favor and thank Wesley for me too 🙂

    1. Somehow I managed to lose my number 2 in my comment. It should have been at the start of where I mention hope. Watch your step…number 2, get it?? Lol poop is funny.

  33. My regret is that one of your early books wasn’t titled “I am not Wesley”, just so you could mirror Mr. Nimoy’s later embracing of his character and write a final book titled “I am Wesley”…

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