Rick Loomis, In Memoriam

Rick Loomis

In Memoriam

Rick Loomis passed away last week. He was a man of passions, and one who had that rarest of combinations: the ability to learn and the ability to laugh at himself. He was sharp and insightful and capable of surprising you.

I knew Rick for forty-two years. He was a friend and mentor, a shining example of the best of our industry; and yet a down-to-earth human being who took pleasure in even the simple things in life. Without Rick, and the opportunities he gave me, I would never have known the success I have enjoyed.

As a boss, Rick was rather unique in the industry. Even back in the 1970s he actually paid his employees for time spent working at conventions. He also gave us money for food—usually $3 because you could get a Mountain Dew and a hot dog inside the hall for that price. And when Flying Buffalo did well at a convention, he’d take the crew out to dinner at a nice place and happily cover it. He was always fair, generous and grateful.

One time, in the 1980s, Rick submitted a project to the productions department. If I recall correctly it was a solo adventure in the style of Buffalo Castle, the first solo RPG adventure. The difficulty was that the solo adventures we were producing at the time had progressed beyond that style of adventure, so Rick’s own production department rejected it. Rick accepted that with good grace. And then, later that year, an unnamed game designer came up to the booth to complain about how the Flying Buffalo productions department had rejected a project said game designer had submitted.

Rick, with a proud smile on his face, said, “Well, they’ve rejected things I’ve written, too. I trust my people.” And that was the end of that.

I used to go to a lot of shows with Rick and got to see his dedication to the industry through his involvement with GAMA. He helped found it and served on the board throughout the life of the organization. I’m certain he was the longest-running President, and it will be a good long time before anyone else comes even close to eclipsing his mark. He saw the industry through lean times and helped usher it into a time of its greatest prosperity; then stepped aside to let new, younger blood shoulder responsibility for it. As an emeritus member of the board he served as the organization’s institutional memory; always offering good and cogent advice based on his past experience.

Rick, like the industry, was capable of growth and change, yet he never abandoned his core values. As the GAMA trade show grew in importance and formality, Rick kept pace. We were preparing to go one year and I mentioned to Rick that I’d bought a new suit to wear there. He thought for a moment, then said, “Oh, I suppose I should do that, too.” I handed him the card of the guy who had taken care of me at Men’s Warehouse and off he went. The new suit looked great and Rick was even happier because he had his Arizona trademark, a bolo tie, that went with it. He was willing to play the game for the good of Flying Buffalo and the industry, but wanted to make sure everyone knew he’d not forgotten where he was from.

Rick was also one of those good friends who was proud of what his employees and former employees did. He’d always allowed us to freelance for other companies on our own time. He was always happy to point out what Liz Danforth or Steve Crompton or I were doing as we moved on. Rick always had a kind word for my books, and even told others about them. We were part of his family, always would be, and he was proud of that fact.

Even over the last year, in the face of dire medical news, Rick was unfailingly upbeat and forward thinking. Along with Steve Crompton, he organized the Kickstarter relaunch of Mercenaries, Spies and Private Eyes. Our last face to face conversation covered his plans for the future, for Flying Buffalo and for the industry. At a time, under circumstances, when so many people would turn inward, he remained committed to the future and his legacy.

I don’t honestly think there will ever be a true measure of Rick’s impact on the industry, simply because it is so broad it defies quantification. He published the second RPG ever, opening the door for every other RPG to be published. He rescued Nuclear War from obscurity, cementing card games as part of our industry from the start. He created computerized Play-by-Mail gaming, which is arguably the creative well from which all computer MMOs have flowed. StarWeb was one of the first games using licensed content (Berserkers by Fred Saberhagen). He founded the Game Manufacturers’ Association. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, he helped people in the industry with sound advice.

It will be difficult to attend shows like Origins and Gencon knowing that Rick won’t be there. I’ll find solace in the knowledge that without him, without his hard work, those shows, and the industry they sustain, might well have long since vanished.

Rest well, Rick.