This is old news for some, but there was a well-written—if painful—short story with a heavy D&D theme in high-brow flagship mag The New Yorker earlier this month. Written by forty-something novelist Sam Lipsyte the story rang very true to me in its depiction of how the game was played in the early 80s on occasion by that awkward mutant breed called the teenager.
The story was a great wake-up call for me on my sentimental binge about early gaming years. Nostalgia tends to blot out the bad times over decades and leave you with the warm fuzzy ones. I tend to remember the laughter, fun, and mystery of games with my brother and close friends—and forget about the times like the jerk-wad in 8th grade who literally kicked me in the balls after I killed the 50th level Anti-Paladin he imported from his Monty Haul game. Oucha.