D&D being the original, "you are a Level One neutral elven thief, armed with a butter knife; you have a ridiculous name because you do not know how to play this yet; your character will be dead in 5 minutes; you are in a 10' x 12' basement of a somewhat gothic looking mansion. Okay, house. An eerie light appears ahead. Boo, man, boo I say."
I wasn't usually able to play, as the irish twin that was slightly older I was the 'authority on hand.' My characters frequently wound up dying creative, humiliating retaliatory deaths whenever I lowered the boom on such unfair rules as: "no smashing grapes into the wallpaper" and "no putting the skinny kid in a headlock just because his 10th level wizard just brought an avalanche down on everyone."
Heh. My brother was pretty good at fooling people who were expecting magic with ordinary hazards they never imagined.
-Maril
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Deserves death! I daresay he does... And some die that deserve life. Can you give it to them?
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