Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out 'til too late that he's been playing with two queens all along. ~Terry Pratchett
Also known as being a DM. (Dungeon Master) -- Anon Guest
Imagine a game so complicated that even the experts have to look up the rules. It is not just played with dice, but also cards, charts, tables, books, miniatures, and a hell of a lot of imagination. There is only one person at the game table who knows anything about what's going on, and that is the holder of the core of the story. They know most of what's going to happen. Well. What's most likely to happen.
The one thing they don't have control of is what the players are going to do. Because everyone who plays this game is a chaos demon in roughly humanoid form. They have a set of rules, too. A set of rules almost as complicated as the entire game, with permutations and corollaries so complicated that nobody could keep track of them all. Player choices leading to potentially infinite customisation not limited to the character's appearance, but also throughout the game.
The game can last for years. Groups meeting to play on a semi-regular basis. Play interrupted by life events, by colds and other virii, by children and the associated shenanigans, by spouses, by family, by work... but they keep returning to play. A game that can involve pop culture, dirty jokes, incidental weaponised singing - both in-game and out - research, improvisation, and massive amounts of bullshit made up on the fly. No one session is completely predictable. No game is ever played the same way by any group of players. It's no surprise that something this phenomenally complicated is also something invented and enjoyed by Humans.
Some Galactic Citizens have been attempting to play along, but the learning curve is a little on the steep side. Fortunately, Humans are pack-bonding maniacs who can't help but share what they love with others.
"You Humans do this in your free time?" said Thorgax. This was a question that, almost like a ritual, they asked every game night.
"There's a lot of hours to fill and not enough books in the known universe," said Dan. "Quit stalling and pick an action."
"An in-character action," added Lyn. "Something your orc wizard would do."
Thorgax consulted their character sheet. "Hm. Yes. I reach into my ingredients pouch and bring out a single pork rind, which I hold in my hand and make circles on with the other as I mutter... oleo controleo--" Laughter erupted around the table. This was what made the game so alluring... the absolute bullshit the players pulled. "And I cast Grease under all their feet."
"What the flakk?" said the GM, which is the other thing that made the game so alluring. Some files were consulted. "Yeah, they're standing in a ten-foot square... what the hell, Thorgax?"
Jol, the group's former Chaotic Nuisance, patted their alien friend on the shoulder and said, "My li'l player's all grown up and making conniptions. I'm so proud."
The twenty-sided die rolled. "Their leader slips and falls on their ass..." another roll. "The lieutenant slips and falls on their ass..." Roll. "The lackey slips and falls on their ass..." Roll. "And the luckless ensign just barely makes their Dex save, looking like a kid on rollerskates for the first time, or someone trying to negotiate a passage where Hyperlube has spilled..." the GM mimed the frantic arm motions of someone whose footing was extremely lubricated at best and uncertain at worst. "And he tries to think of something to do..." Roll. "And throws their hands up with a, We surrender!"
More laughter, and a lot of applause.
"I only had level one spells left," said Thorgax. "I couldn't do anything else!"
"You saved our butts with a bullshit prank spell," crowed Jol. "It's not the power, it's the proficiency, man."
Of such plays, legends are made. In this case, it was the legend of the pork rind, and how their GM had to call a twenty-minute game break just so they could figure out where the hell this was going to go next.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / keithpower]
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