This article is by Mark McLaughlin. Mark has design credits on 28 currently-published games (including Ancient Civilizations of the Inner Sea, Ancient Civilizations of the Middle East, Wellington, Hitler’s Reich: WWII in Europe, and more) with more in the works. He also recently attended SDHistCon East for the second-straight year, and demoed his games Rebel Raiders on the High Seas and The Napoleonic Wars. This is a personal essay from Mark about how games led him to meeting his late wife Cheryl.

My late wife HATED games.   She and I never played a game (unless you count Scrabble, and that was just ONCE and on the airplane on the flight to our honeymoon in London – back in 1978).   Cheryl did not even play games with our children (both of whom, by the way,  not only LOVE games, but have made games a big part of their lives–and that of their families.  My daughter even has TWO games named after her: Princess Ryan’s Space Marines and Princess Ryan’s Star Marines, as well as a novel of the same name. And my son is a big name in the Games Workshop universe, with an award-winning and profitable podcast (the 40K Badcast) as well as continuing to win awards and acclaim for his painting of the miniatures and for tournament play–even winning a coveted “Best Sportsmanship” trophy—(and not just once!) 

But I digress…. 

In 1965 I played Avalon Hill’s Waterloo for the first time.  That got me hooked on real wargames (for which the Milton Bradley quartet of Battle Cry, Dogfight, Broadsides and Hit the Beach, had prepared me). I played more of the AH games, and in 1970 saw an article in Time where Brigadier General (Ret) Sir Peter Young was pushing painted miniatures across a table in London. I wrote to Time, then to the journalist who did the story, then to the general–a quite affable fellow and a true hero (he is even a character in my favorite set of miniatures rules, Flames of War). I asked him if he knew any place in America to get the figures to paint.  He gave me Jack Scruby’s name.  And that began the miniatures phase of gaming (I have 15,000–all but a handful of which I have painted myself, and still continue painting).    

Now the miniatures bit is important.  I was in a military school (Christian Brothers Academy) and was interviewing for two Jesuit colleges: Georgetown University and Boston College. I wrote to both Scruby and the general if they knew anyone in either Washington, DC (where Georgetown is situated) or Boston who played miniatures and games. Scruby had just filled orders for Curt Johnson, a history teacher at Carrol High School on Military Road in DC (talk about karma).  Coincidentally, Curt had written a chapter in the general’s book The Wargame–a book of historical battles lavishly illustrated with photos of miniatures, which the authors had used to play out and depict those battles. 

 And that is how Georgetown beat out Boston College. 

 At Georgetown I met a few guys who played games and miniatures.  One of them was a classmate, John Tuohy.  (I met him by accident; I met his gorgeous, blonde, stunning Hungarian-American girlfriend, Maria, while working at the library.  Much to my chagrin and disappointment, she introduced me to her boyfriend–John).    

But that was just the next and one of the most important steps to How I Met Your Mother (through Wargaming). 

John’s older brother, Larry, had come back from his third tour with the Army combat engineers in Vietnam.  His tour was cut short by a bouncing betty mine, which sliced his buddy in half and left Larry riddled with shrapnel (which was still working its way out of his body up until his passing last year). John convinced Larry and their kid brother, Justin, to start gaming with us. And we did. (I played a game with John just last year at a hobby shop in Virginia….I live in New Hampshire). 

 Almost there. 

After graduation and a brief if silly time as a second lieutenant, I came back to DC, got a job in a bank, and resumed gaming with the guys (including, of course, Larry). When I got an opportunity to start as a copyboy for the Associated Press, I leaped at the chance.

When I got promoted to dictationist, I introduced Larry to my boss to see if he could take my place.  (Copyboy back then was a very dirty job, dealing with teletype machines, ink, as well as being the gopher, dogs body and the kid who goes out to buy a stack of early edition newspapers). My boss and Larry hit it off, and Larry quickly moved up in the technical division at the AP. 

Only one more paragraph, I promise.  Bear with me. 

One night, Larry and I were both on the late shift.  His car broke down. I drove him home to Bethesda, Maryland. I lived in the exact opposite direction, in Arlington, Virginia. The AP was in DC, near the White House, and dead in the middle between where we lived. 

Larry says “We both have a morning shift. Rather than drive all the way around the beltway to go home, why don’t you crash on the sofa? Then you can drive us both into work in the morning.”  It was already past 1 a.m., so I said “sure.” 

The next morning, this drop-dead gorgeous girl with a mountain of curls comes out of one of the bedrooms, looks at me, and says “Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my sofa!” 

I had two dates with her, back to back in 48 hours.  She kissed me at the end of the second date.  Are you familiar with the famous line about kissing from The Princess Bride?  Well, this kiss put that to shame. I had never (and still have never) been kissed like that. 

And I didn’t date or kiss anybody else from that day in 1976 until six months after she passed away at home, in my arms, in February 2023–two weeks shy of what would have been our 45th wedding anniversary. 

And that, my son–and daughter–is How I Met Your Mother (through wargaming).  

PS:  Cheryl always supported my gaming–not only my gaming with friends–including Larry, with whom she was also friends–but especially my work as a game designer (I have had 28 games published, with five more in various stages of production at three game companies–plus another one on my design table). She supported me because it was my “night out (and frequently Sunday afternoon) with the boys”  and, of course, I made money from designing (by then I was a full-time free-lance journalist, which was definitely my day job). 

 Yet she never played a game–not even one of mine. But she was immensely supportive, and proud, of my game career.