AITA For Chanting Spells, Scaring My Elderly Neighbors?

Picture this: a dimly lit apartment, flickering candles casting eerie shadows, and a group of friends draped in cloaks, chanting mystical gibberish over a table strewn with dice. It’s not a séance—it’s just another Saturday night for a 24-year-old Dungeons & Dragons enthusiast. But for his new neighbors, a sweet older couple with a Bible close at hand, it’s a scene straight out of their nightmares. What started as a harmless game night spiraled into a hilarious clash of worlds, leaving pamphlets and paranoia in its wake.

The young man’s passion for immersive roleplaying has accidentally painted him as the neighborhood’s resident cult leader. Caught between laughing it off and easing their fears, he’s left wondering if he’s the villain in this real-life campaign. Readers can’t help but lean in—how do you explain dragons and fake swords to folks clutching their rosaries?

‘AITA for making my neighbours think I’m in a cult?’

Sometimes, a game night can feel like a leap into another realm—except when your neighbors think it’s a literal descent into darkness. This Dungeons & Dragons debacle is a classic case of crossed wires, where youthful exuberance meets old-school suspicion.

The OP’s predicament pits his theatrical flair against the neighbors’ genuine worry. He’s just a guy in a cloak having fun, but to them, the chanting and swords signal something sinister. It’s not hard to see why—closed doors don’t muffle imagination. The couple’s reaction, while over-the-top, stems from a protective instinct, not malice. Meanwhile, the OP’s “demon-summoning” quip? A fumbled charisma check that only deepened the misunderstanding.

This taps into a broader quirk of human nature: we fear what we don’t understand. Psychology Today notes that unfamiliar rituals can trigger unease, especially across generational gaps. Dr. John Grohol, a psychologist, once wrote, “Miscommunication thrives where context is absent” (source: Psychology Today archives). Here, the OP’s game lacks context for his neighbors, turning play into panic.

For a fix? A quick chat could work wonders—thank them for checking in, explain it’s a game, and maybe even invite them to roll a die. It’s not about converting them to D&D; it’s about bridging the gap. Studies show small gestures of openness can ease neighborly tension (see Harvard’s social cohesion research). A little kindness could turn this cult scare into a quirky anecdote for both sides.

Here’s the input from the Reddit crowd:

The Reddit peanut gallery didn’t hold back on this one—imagine a tavern full of rowdy adventurers tossing out opinions like gold coins. Here’s a roundup of the spiciest takes, served with a wink and a nudge. Picture this: some folks are cheering for the OP to don a robe and chant louder, turning the hallway into a live-action dungeon crawl. Others, though, wave a caution flag—why torment sweet old neighbors who probably think Satan’s RSVP’d for tea?

These quips are pure Reddit gold: half the crowd’s ready to crown him a mischief king, while the rest preach neighborly peace over fake swords. It’s a split party—team chaos versus team karma. But here’s the kicker: do these hot takes hold up outside the echo chamber, or are they just dice rolls in a game of online bravado? You decide!

In the end, this tale of cloaks and pamphlets is a comedy of errors—no demons summoned, just a lot of awkward hallway glances. The OP’s got a choice: double down for the laughs or play the hero and clear the air. Either way, it’s a story that proves reality can be wilder than any D&D campaign. What would you do if your game night sparked a cult scare? Share your thoughts—have you ever accidentally terrified a neighbor, or would you grab a robe and join the fun?