Day 28: Character I will never play again
There was Gerard, a half-elf and a wanker that died unmourned in some leaky-roofed garret.
There was Metro, who died of self inflicted wounds while building a claymore mine from an iron pot.
There were many Rangers with names I do not recall that fell in the snow – bashed by ogres, fell in the forests – cut down by goblins, and fell in the desert – the life sucked from them by the sun and venomous insects.
There were many more whose fates I never learnt but chances are they became bar flies and died of schlerosis of the liver, lung cancer and/or syphilus.
There was Metholyptus who, after heroically leading the charge to defeat a gigantic crab, was devastated by the breakage of his teapot and retired – that’s Hobbit thinking for you, and I expect he lived to a ripe old age and dined out on that one battle for ever.
There were all those unnamed heroes that fell like flies in Craig’s killer trap dungeons, poor bastards.
There were the many that leaped, fully formed, into life in one of Greg’s many potential worlds, only to fade immediately as that world collapsed – a perfect model of the multiple universe theory if ever I beheld one.
No doubt there are many more with unmarked graves spread across the Imaginarium. Rest in peace.