He wasn't happy about it, either. Ellowyne Two had finally achieved in death what she had been unable to manage in life: his undivided, voluntary attention.
Well, somewhat voluntary.

In addition to their imaginary tea (Earl Grey does not sit well with either ghosts or vampires), Edward had gotten to work on cleaning up the Berry Happy Home for Wynnie. "It's disgusting," he said to me. "There are two different kinds of dust in there, grey and brown. I don't even know where brown dust comes from. And if you do, don't tell me. Which reminds me, I could use a fresh box of Swiffer cloths, if you've got one."
"Already?" I was doing my best to help by clearing old boxes of books and magazines out of the attic to make room. I was half certain we had a proper tea set in there somewhere, but had resolved to find one on eBay if not; right now, they were using plastic cups donated from Purple Arwen's pantry stash.

So you can imagine that he was not in the mood for Anna to renew her torments. She was clever, I'll give her that. She had escalated from taunting (although she was still doing that, too) and petty pranks to waiting until he was deep enough in his Scrubbing Bubbles and his own morbid thoughts to stop paying attention. Otherwise, he would have been able to hear Anna's thoughts, no matter how wily and silent her approach. Inevitably, he would drift away into some gloomy trance, and then POW! she would strike and run, a tiny Fauxmanian guerrilla. But physical suffering wasn't her game anymore--no, she was trying to provoke him into sealing his own fate. His next serious infraction, after all, would mean Go to Box Forever, Do Not Collect $200, Lose an Expensive Doll. I told her to cut that shit out, but I was busy enough with my own Real Human Big Person life (YES, REALLY) without having to babysit her. But I wasn't going to let asshaberdashery reign unchecked, either.
"Look, I am gonna warn you once: if you rile him up so bad he kills you, I will not punish him for it."

"YEAH. You are PROVOKING HIM. Stabbing someone in the head with a trident when they are trying to be good is what PROVOKING MEANS. So LEAVE HIM ALONE."

"You got it."

"Fine."

With that kind of attitude, she was lucky I happened to be nearby one particular afternoon. Edward had apparently drifted away on the dark currents of his own emo once more while scrubbing the baseboards in the upstairs hall, and by the time I heard his yell and had run up the stairs to intervene, he was choking Anna with one hand and struggling to wrench the trident away from her with the other and then I was yelling at both of them and trying to pull them apart and getting a noseful of florist's fork for my trouble--
"ALL RIGHT, that is IT, I have HAD IT."


"We are going to do a team-building exercise," I said, "and we are going to LIKE IT."

"No."

"I've played TWICE. And I used to really like reading the rule manual as a kid," I said. "Well, not so much the rules as the section on the monsters and the treasure. And I saw that video where the monster wants to know where the Mountain Dew is. I can totally hack this. I saw some generator widget things online--I'll whip us up a map in no time. Besides, it'll take so long to play that we'll have plenty of time to learn."

"Look, it's better than them killing each other, isn't it?" I hissed.
There was no way the entire Shelf could play, so I had to choose which dolls would be the best influence on both Anna and Edward, who were going to learn to get along come hell or high sparkle. And then I realized I'd have to take whoever I could get: Preparing for the Squirrelmageddon was still a favorite occupation, and you couldn't really argue with it after the Battle of Beagle Yard. I did prevail upon Elizabeth to join up, mostly because she was best at keeping Anna under control (and also, because Anna wouldn't ever be able to sit still if she thought Lizzie was off somewhere having fun without her). And of course, Lyra wanted to play, because Lyra always wants to play. On the other end of the spectrum, group activities aren't ever really to White Arwen's taste; she preferred stitching away at her banner and singing softly to herself. And Galadriel--advice to me aside--was still anxiously studying prophecies, unsure whether to worry more about dolls falling in battle or falling prey to each other. But surely there was some other Middle-earthian who had the time...?

"You realize these are imaginary dungeons, right?"








"You wanna play?" He hemmed and hawed a little. "I'm sure they'd love for you to play--we can set up near the stable so you can keep an eye on the ponies."

So we ended up with a party of seven players, which seemed large but doable. As for the game itself, there was a such a bewilderment of editions and rules and classes that I decided, to hell with it--whatever the gang wanted to play, even if they made it up, they could play.

"Edward, if you won't choose anything, I'll have to roll you a character, and you could end up with--"

And so that's how we ended up with a gypsy paladin, a pirate rogue, an eladrin archer, a greenwood ranger, a human--

--a catfolk ranger--

"But--ranger's your favored class--"

--a catfolk battle sorcerer--

--a catfolk battle sorcerer with a ferret familiar, a telepathic halfling sparklepire, and a half-orc barbarian.

"Shoulda chosen for yourself, Sparky."
I decided to start them--and me--off with something easy: the very best monster-filled dungeon that web apps set to Level 1 could generate. And even then, I let them go through a "wilderness" first.
Scenes from a campaign:









//
"All right, Pounce, you're up. Dire Capybara approaches you, snarling."

So I showed her a picture.

"Well, I... I'll let you roll for it. Odd number, it attacks; even, you keep it."
Two.
"... Dire Capybara accompanies you."
//
"Okay, Edward, roll d20. You have a +5 charisma bonus."
Naturally, a Halfling Sparklepire has appropriate skills--

"SIMMER DOWN, PRINCESS VALERIA." I consulted my stat sheet: "Okay, looks like Mountain Werelion will save against Dazzle... strangely, Rabid Owlbear does not."
//
"You are attacked by a monstrous cockroach."

"So..."

"It's a really big one, too. Like, probably two or three feet long."

"Three-Foot Monstrous Cockroach is gnawing on you."

"Fortunately, since you're half-orc, it... doesn't really do anything. It just... gnaws on you. Like... until you do something about it."

"O... kay."
//

"Well, I mean... you haven't even gotten inside the dungeon yet."

"I'll let you roll for it--odd number, it's a yes."
Five.
"Elspeth Shipsail, you find a florin someone dropped in the grass."

"Absolutely."

//
"Urrgk, the monstrous cockroach is still gnawing on you."

//



I was surprised when he brought back a green, stoppered glass bottle of water.

//

"What orc? There's no orc, we've got nothing but venomous badgers out here--"

"You can't do that, he's on your side!"

"Princess Valeria, the Sword of Your Ancestors bounces off Urrgk's incredibly thick skull and hits you in the face. Roll for damage."

"OH LOOK YOU TOTALLY JUST ROLLED A NATURAL TWENTY."

It wasn't enough to kill her, but it was enough to teach her a lesson, I figured. "All right, who's got the healing powers?"















"Oh, look!" I said quickly. "Turns out Dire Capybaras can heal!"

"THEY TOTALLY TOTALLY CAN."

"Dire Capybara licks you in the face for 3d6 HP. Because I said so. Roll."


They say that the postman always rings twice. I don't know about that, but I do know that UPS rings once and then drives away. When I heard a truck pulling away before I was even halfway down the stairs, I caught my breath.
(Secret Life read-through; fan community; TV Tropes page)


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