I am deeply sorry for your loss. As others have pointed out (and I can tell this as a psychologist), it is often very difficult to notice the situation for those around the person. I am sure that you did your best.

My condolences.

I've lost a friend in similar circumstances - I focus on the good times, but it still hurts. My condolences.

My condolences. And yes, please do continue to not blame yourself - in such states of mind, there's often, as pointed out, a great difficulty to notice something's wrong, if the other side does not cry out for help in some way.

That's very sad and unfortunate--condolences to everyone left behind.

Thank you all for the kind words. I've meditated a lot on this in the weeks since, especially over the holidays. A time when one is meant to be thankful for the people in their lives. And I was thankful for the short time Duncan was in my life.

I understand suicide. I went through periods in my life when I was suicidal. I understand the motivations. I understand how sometimes you just want a rest from life. That it seems easier just to not go on, trapped in the machinations of this world. Sometimes life can seem more a burden than anything. And so I don't rail against Duncan's choice. It saddens me because I miss him. Not because I think I could have done anything for him, but, selfishly, because I wasn't ready to not have him in my life anymore yet.

I'm not religious. I don't even believe in souls, which I've found is a belief that even most not-religious people I know indulge in. I'm not necessarily an atheist, I just accept that I don't know what else goes on beyond the physical world I experience and have absolutely zero faith that anyone else does either. I've heard a lot of nice ideas (and a lot of horrifying ones) over the years, and I begrudge no one their personal beliefs, but I've never found any solace in them. I just try to take things as they come. But I like to think Duncan found peace, whatever that means. If a heaven exists, then he of all people deserves to be there.

I'm sure everyone here knows that special form of friendship that develops with those that one games with; something unique and unlike other passing acquaintances. Getting to know a person's imaginary life is in a way more intimate than the surface relationships one develops; for as much as its escapism, our imaginations are for each of us a more private and (perhaps) deeper aspect of our life that isn't often shared with the outside world. I count the people I've gamed with over the years as some of my very best friends. I'm picky about my gaming groups, much more so perhaps than any other group of friends. Better no gaming than bad gaming, as the maxim goes. So those I chose to game with over an extended period are people I've found who not only share my taste in a hobby, but much more specific tastes in how we like to have fun.

Duncan was one of those players who was always up for gaming. He showed up with a smile, full of good humour, and his participation in the game was always entertaining. He'd throw himself into character with enthusiasm, never concerned himself with rules and never got upset because of failures or setbacks in the game. He was pleased to meet every other gamer, always ready to talk about his enthusiasm for the hobby, and got a long with everyone. He wasn't the most assertive of fellows, content to let other people indulge their egos or their need to play leader, but he was still an active participant. I'm not summing up Duncan as a person in this way, only as a gamer, but since he was a gamer and that's how I knew him, he was one of the best. The kind every GM, or at least every GM like me, wants. Duncan personally made every game an enjoyable experience.

And thats all I guess I really have to say on the matter in the end. If this makes me appreciate the other people I game with a bit more, all the better. And if this affects my behaviour, in that I try just a bit to act more like Duncan, then that's the best tribute I can offer to just a cool guy.