I’ve been asked to be a Dungeon Master. In the world of games I recognize this to be a great honour. On par with being the Monopoly banker. I am now tasked with the awesome responsibility of writing a game of Dungeons & Dragons. Unanimously chosen because I write very detailed grocery lists and I’m a gamer. A Video Gamer. The RPG addict.
I’m one of those. Slackers. Comfortably parked on my ass with a bag of Cheetos, bug-eyed for three days. Stabbing and hacking my way through a mythical land . There is no purpose to this activity. My grey matter heaves a sigh of relief as it turns to mush. Relaxation. Stress relief. That is the great allure. That and screaming “Die you dicksmack bastard!” at my television. My neighbours must think I’m a total bitch. A real classy broad.
I’m determined to hungrily sink my teeth in this project. I have a fertile imagination. There’s really scary stuff going on up there. My game will become legend. Spoken only in whispered tones among basement dwelling geeks. It’s a lofty goal. One I must accomplish. After I read the books.
I’ve never played the game. The concept doesn’t escape me but I need to learn rules, strategies and subtleties. Three books were reverently placed in my arms last night in a secret ceremony. I have sworn an oath not to reveal a single detail. You don’t want to mess with these guys. They’re not kidding around.
I refuse to be daunted by any obstacle. A few hours of reading coupled with my extensive knowledge of Role Playing Games should be all I need to write my Epic. I can’t wait to get started on my costume! I’m doing this properly. I love fantasy. I’m also a sucker for a good Fairy Tale.
No matter what happens… there’s always a happy ending.