The Dark Lord Bert 2 by Chris Fox (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📕

grandfather about to relate his life’s journey. “Well, I saw this movie last year. It was called Idiocracy. And in this movie everyone was really stupid. All of us. All the smart people had stopped breeding, for like, centuries. And their favorite TV show was called Oww my Balls.

“As I watched the movie,” Max continued, setting his empty milk carton back on the table, “I realized that they were really punching themselves in the balls. That’s what the movie was saying. We’re all, as a society, punching ourselves in the balls and laughing at each other. And I thought that was deep. Ouch. My balls.”

“Oh.” Kit didn’t really have a rebuttal to that. It was a better answer than she’d expected.

She was saved from the odd exchange when Todd bumped the table as players jostled him for attention. The long-haired teen hunched behind the GM screen at the far end of the table, harried and clearly seeking escape.

Unfortunately, the game master was currently under siege from two different directions. Barb sat on his left, trying to get him to approve her character sheet, while Robert loomed over Todd on the right like a hawk about to dive, several greasy pages clutched in his hands.

“Come on, Todd,” Robert urged, his tone a low whine. “I sank hundreds of hours into White. He was an amazing character, and how he died…well…I think everyone agrees it was unfair. I was robbed, and you know it. This is a way you can make it up to me.”

“Fine,” Todd groused, extending a hand. “I’ll take a look at your custom class, but I already know it’s going to be way out of bounds. They always are.” Robert proudly handed across the pages, and Todd bent over the first one, his eyes darting back and forth as he digested it with the speed only a veteran game master could muster. “Wait, Penultimate Wizard Necromancer? With how many spells? And how can you possibly justify all these feats? A full +1 base attack bonus? Are you serious?”

Todd’s brown eyes narrowed, and the game master rose out of his seat, his shoulders stiffened by righteous indignation. “You picked an acronym that spells PWN? Are you serious? We are not playing Fortnite. Can you at least try to act like this game has a story? I work hard on these sessions. I want to get published some day.”

“Don’t try to act like the game is sacred,” Robert snapped, though he sullenly retreated back to his seat. The chair gave a resigned groan as he settled his bulk. “Your world is littered with terribad jokes. Baron Cullen? Sir Patrick? Those are awful, and they break our immersion.”

“Immersion?” Jess found herself saying, much more loudly than she’d intended. Everyone was suddenly gaping at her, except for Barb who was trying to use the opportunity to slip her character sheet under Todd’s nose so he could approve it. “You don’t care at all about immersion, Bob. White was all about power. About winning. About controlling that world, which isn’t fun for any of us.”

“Like you’ve got room to talk, Jess. You led a coup and killed my character!” Barb snapped, suddenly interested in the conversation. The taller girl rose to her feet, towering over all them. Curly red hair boiled out around her cap like a mane, reinforcing the lion-like appearance.

Her overalls and baseball cap came from the land where mullets go to die, and even included the requisite oil stains. She was a year older than the rest of them, and the only one with a real job, down at Pete’s Autobody. She paid for most of the books, and gave all of the rides. And Barb wasn’t a bad person, Jess reminded herself.

“You’re right. I did kill another PC. Two, if you want to be technical,” Jess allowed, raising both hands, palm out. “But there were mitigating circumstances. Robert used Crotchshot as bait and he was petrified. And he threatened to kill my character if I didn’t shift alignment. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s got a point,” Max pointed out, standing on top of his chair so he was eye to boob with Barb. “You bastards left me to die. You could have gotten a restoration potion or something, but instead you just kept playing the game. Not cool, Robert. I don’t think Jess should get in trouble. Kit is a great character, and she just reacted to your dick-baggery.”

“Guys.” Todd’s weary voice was barely audible, but still managed to smother their argument.

If the GM got annoyed they didn’t play.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a glowing green die, a little bigger than Jess found comfortable to roll. Golden numbers dotted the surface, and she could feel the power emanating from the magical construct. “This d20? I think you take for granted what it is, and where it’s been. The entire world we play in is generated by it. Every tree, every dragon, and every dark lord. I didn’t make the d20. I inherited it, and from what I hear, my dad used to use it a lot. I can make new stuff, but most of what you ran into were things my dad created during his old campaigns. I don’t even get half the jokes. Going forward I will try to—”

Robert cleared his throat, and seized control of the conversation. “I’m not going to play if you are going to continue cheating.”

Jess shrank back into her seat when she spied the murder in Todd’s eyes as the accusation twisted the game master’s features.

“Cheating?” Todd thrust a finger at the vellum mat on the table, which represented the game world. “Every rule is enforced by that. I literally cannot cheat. So what is it exactly that you think I cheated on?”

“The goblin,” Robert snarled, his expression feral. “He altered my character sheet. That’s bullshit. You can’t alter someone’s alignment on the fly without some sort of spell or ability. Again, cheating.”

Now it was Todd who looked uncomfortable. He