Day 40. 92,330 words.
I was greatly amused yesterday to learn from Mrs. Hatboy that there is a new class of character for D&D: Old Spice Fancy Gentleman / Fancy Gentlelady:
Mrs. Hatboy has decided that this will be her new character as soon as her Bard dies. So we can probably expect her Bard to fling himself (and his bagpipes) into some pretty lethal situations in the next few sessions.
That’s … probably going to be therapeutic for her on some deeper psychological level, now I come to think about it.
For the res.
I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends.
Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages?
I am Hatboy.
That Old Spice tweet though. Whoever that writer is for Old Spice is not getting paid enough. There I said it.
Youre damn right.