Welcome To Dungeons and Drengin
Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Grant Edonin. As majordomo of entertainment, I would like to welcome you to a one-of-a-kind gaming experience. Please, have a seat by the fire. You must be tired from your journey! No, don't sit there. Sit over here--that's our comfiest log. Here, take this mug. For resting the limbs and soothing the aches of weary travelers, there's nothing like hot Corrasian cider! It goes down hot into the belly and then. . . well, there's no reason for me to describe what it does when you can already feel it, is there? Let's see, before you arrived I was in the middle of making a stew. I'll have to keep stirring it while we talk. You don't mind?
Now then. . . you are probably wondering about this place. It's a meeting-of-ways, it is--or was. It's practically its own jurisdiction now. For a long time, travelers such as yourself have been coming here. At first, they just came to get to wherever it was they were going; but now they come here to trade, to gamble, to have a good time! Some come just to avoid paying taxes! But whatever their reasons, they keep coming. And while they are here, I entertain them. What, you didn't recognize me? Yes, that sign by the road advertises my operation here. I am the Magnificent Mister Edonin, at your service.
I see that you've emptied your mug. That's good. It means that it's time for me to tell you about, uh, a little detail that I may have failed to mention before. You see, that wasn't just Corrasian cider in you mug. I mixed in a little, ah, something extra. Don't worry! It's nothing dangerous. It's just a little concoction I discovered that will make your experience here more. . . well, more interesting. You'll see. Just relax, and let it do its work. Really there's nothing to worry about. It's something I give to all my patients--er, clients.
You should be feeling very mellow and happy right now. Yes, that dopey grin on your face confirms it. Now then, I want you to tilt you head back and look up at the stars. Just like that. I want you to imagine that each of those stars has a name. No, more than that--I want you to see the names. See the names of each of the stars in the sky above you. Got it? Now while you are busy naming the stars, I'm just going to insert this itty, bitty attachment through the back of your neck into your spinal column. Nothing, ehhhh, to worry about. See? You can barely, ehhhhh, feel a thing. I am doing this because (though you are probably barely even aware of it at this point) you can't move--and because you can't move, ehhhhh, you can't speak. If this is going to work, though, I have to know, ehhhhh, what's going on in that head of yours. I have to, ehhhhh, see what you see. Like those pesky, ehhhhh, stars. Woooh! Got it! Just give me a moment... I have to catch my breath. I swear, this gets more nerve-racking every time! It's just like threading a needle, if the needle had a soul that could be extinguished with just one small error. Not to worry though. . . I'm pretty sure you won't remember this part anyway.
Alright, well I've got my end connected. We just have to get your end connected. That's easy. The drug I gave you makes it incredibly easy to dissociate from yourself, giving you an entirely new self. Or hundreds of them! You just need to imagine some scenario in which you (and however many selves you have) must give some answers. You could see yourself as taking some sort of test. You could see yourself as a data entry clerk on one of the scientific starbases. Or--I dunno--you could imagine yourself as a bunch of different people on an entirely mythical, alien world communicating electronically using primitive machines and voting to determine the next step to take on a genre-bending, role-playing, fantasy-filled spin off of a game that is new to their digital sphere, so that their incredibly brilliant game master can concoct the perfect brew, the Corrasian cider of storytelling, by layering in the flavors and aromas of a cohesive and compelling storyline. That's not too different from what I do, I suppose. Hmmm, something to reflect on later.
Where were we? I want you to see yourself sailing in a ship among the stars, leading your people to a bright future. Good, good! Can you picture yourself? Good! Now, I need you to tell me, which of these characters do you see yourself as?
A.
This guy looks like he needs a mug of Corrasian cider. I mean the good stuff.
B.
I'm sure this guy knows all the uses for Corrasian cider.
C.
Just look at how many mug-holders this guy has.
D.
Seeing this guy pop up in your imagination, I realize that I probably should have asked you if you were hungry before we got started.
E.
I don't think she has a sense of humor.
F.
He seems like he would make a nice uncle.
G.
Whatever you do, don't ask it to leave the hot tub.
H.
This elusive species is known to some as Fred. Long held in suspicion, its appearance has often coincided with high profile abductions and burglaries. If you have any information about Fred, please contact the Galactic Authorities. It is not known for certain if Fred is actually a species or a single lonely guy acting out of his deceased grandmother's basement.
I.
He'll make you wonder why it's called Dungeons and Drengin.
J.
"Why the long face?" asked the former ambassador.
"Are you sure you're not Fred in disguise?" asked the other former ambassador.
"That's okay, I don't need to know where you mouth is." -- Current ambassador
K.
If this is how you see yourself, I have a lot more questions.
L.
Does anybody else hear that squishing sound? Seriously, what is that?
M.
Known to many as the worst photographers in the galaxy.
N.
She just lost her boyfriend. No, I didn't ask how.
O.
Monkey see, monkey do. Turtle half-see, turtle half-do.
P.
If you think your imagination can pull off that hair style, go for it.
Q.
People think robots can't feel pain. They actually feel a great deal of pain.
OR. . . . . . . . . . . . .
R. Something else entirely.
You'll notice that your imagination would not allow you to view yourself as something like this:
That is because as majordomo of entertainment I made an executive decision and have reserved this spot of your brain. This spot belongs to EVIL. The creatures who live in this spot (like this one) are the big baddies. They are what in the gaming world people might call a FINAL BOSS. This is what you will have to face in the experimental laboratory test ahead. [Memory edit. Should read: "wonderfully entertaining scenario I have prepared for you."] But don't worry. When you fail--and I do mean when--you can always try again. That is, until your overstressed brain stops functioning. It's a good thing there are so many useful specimens in a place like this. [Memory edit. Should read: "I'm sure you'll do great! Good luck!"]
