The Grand Adventurers Club was founded in the waning years of the 1930s, at a time when much of the world had been mapped—but not nearly enough of it had been properly investigated.

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Its origins trace to a chance gathering of explorers who had returned from jungles, deserts, mountain passes, and several ruins that proved considerably less abandoned than advertised. They shared one persistent problem:

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Civilization was dreadfully dull between expeditions.

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Among the Club’s earliest members were Lady Beatrix “Bea” Brassbuttons, aviatrix and treasure hunter; Major Sir Reginald Mallory, gentleman explorer and firm believer that every obstacle could be overcome with sufficient rope; Professor Thaddeus Finch, historian, archivist, and architect of a filing system understood by no other living person; Cordelia Croft, whose impeccable manners and remarkable network of favors opened doors that maps could not; and Percy, the Club’s earnest benefactor, whose acquisitions arrived with alarming frequency and only occasional documentation.

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When not crossing doubtful bridges or disputing the accuracy of local maps, the adventurers passed the time as they had in the field: by challenging one another.

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Dice games settled who took first watch. Cards decided who carried the heaviest pack. Elaborate tabletop campaigns were sketched on the backs of maps to reenact daring escapes, naval engagements, and improbable discoveries—usually with better planning and considerably less mud.

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The members soon recognized that games were more than diversions. They were tests of wit, nerve, luck, imagination, and one’s ability to remain gracious while being thoroughly outmaneuvered by Cordelia.

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Their informal gatherings became a private society: a place where discoveries were catalogued, stories exchanged, rivalries renewed, and new games devised to preserve the thrill of adventure without the inconvenient risk of snakebite.

 

Membership was traditionally granted to those who had discovered something remarkable—or could provide a sufficiently entertaining account of nearly doing so.

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As the decades passed and the remaining blank spaces disappeared from ordinary maps, the Club reached a curious conclusion: adventure had not vanished. It had merely changed form. New worlds waited inside boxes. Unexplored kingdoms spread across tabletops. Every shuffled deck, unrolled map, and cast of the dice offered another opportunity for discovery.

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Following a particularly spirited game night—and a vote whose final tally remains contested—the stewards opened the Club’s doors.

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Today, the Grand Adventurers Club welcomes the public not as spectators, but as fellow explorers. One need not cross a desert or disturb an ancient temple to earn a place at the table. A curious mind, a sporting spirit, and a willingness to begin are quite sufficient.

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The expeditions continue.

They simply begin at the table.