And you’re ill

When I was younger, like many nerds my age, we played pen and paper RPGs. The creative world building, boys saying things together they would never say in front of their moms, and fight imaginary villains while eating and drinking copious amount of junk food… man it was the life.

My friends and I played many different types of modules, from fantasy to sci-fi, even spy campaigns. For us it was often less about the world we were in, but doing it together.

One particular game campaign we ran through was through a TTRPG (Tabletop Role Playing Game for the filthy casuals out there) called Gamma World. It was a nuclear wasteland world with mutants, gross creatures, and heroes with powers both mundane and freaking-out-there.

I of course plated a six and half foot mutated rabbit that had one whole arm that was useless except for clubbing people… which I did a lot. My friends and I found ourselves in a village of rather seedy individuals that very much needed a good clubbing, and my rabbit was happy to oblige their request.

And as often as this things are to go, I rolled the dice horribly. ‘1’ after ‘1’ popped up on the D20 (That is a 20-sided dice, seriously people learn a thing or two). My friend GMing the game (I’m not going to define any more vernacular for you people, just search for the term on the interwebs)... Anyway his name is Glen, and he is having, just the greatest time, describing how bad these rolls are for my large languishing leporidae.

Here is what I remember:

GM Glen after I roll my third ‘1’ in a row: “You swing your club arm, smacking it into a nearby thistle bush, causing you to reel back, putting your foot in a bucket. You swing both arms wildly in a fruitless attempt to keep your balance as you fall backwards into three, no four, four waiting blades from the spiderfolk behind you, causing 2d4 damage. ::Glen rolls dice, begins to laugh so hard he shoots mountain dew out of his nose::. Looks like eight damage, You then roll into traffic hitting a truck tire head on which throws you down the nearby hill into a gaggle of evil nuns who call you all sorts of naughty names… oh… and (rolls dice)... you're ill.

My ragged ravaged rabbit never recovered from being ill.

I say all that to say, that is the week I have been having. AC broke, Car wont start, having to be pushed out of the 3rd floor of a parking garage to even be towed, the coffee machine stopped, and we had hail yesterday.

I am just waiting for my buddy to come walking up to me, roll a dice and say, “oh… and your ill”

-Ryan “Mutated Rabbit” Pretz