So, what happens when you get a couple of guys away from their wives, or mums, and play a little bit of Dungeons and Dragons? Well tonight at the Dave from Albury Compound it looked a little like this.
Our Dragonborn Paladin, whose wife is presently on a health kick, rejected low GI foods and ate the biggest bowl of ice cream seen this side of North America.
The Halfling Rogue seemed to be affected by a mixture of incompatible substances, and is presently poisoning the garden beyond the deck.
The party’s Cleric has spent the last half hour bringing cool washers to the Rogue, while the Dwarf Fighter has been weighing up his playing capability.
Your humble Dungeon Master has been left with nothing to do but blog. My players have failed their sobriety check. If we were surrounded by Kobolds, they’d be fucked by now.
I wonder if Gary Gygax foresaw the amount of beer that his game would cause his players to consume? Or perhpas this is simply a symptom of marriage, and D&D is the innocent bystander?