Tag Archives: D&D

Choose Your Own Adventure

thanks to Ethan Gilsdorf

You are standing before a warrior’s clothespress
and must choose your armour.

If you select the coin mail, turn to page 20.
If you select the gauzy asymmetrical skirt, turn to page 23.

flip flip
flip flip flip

A harsh cold wind blows up your skirt as you face
the gaping chasm known as the Centre of Maldonia.
A Dark Creeper shuffles up to you, leering
as it bares a mouthful of rotten teeth.
“Windy out here,” it chuckles, its mossy tongue
running across cracked lips.

If you extend your middle finger at it, turn to page 56.
If you ignore it and keep your face buried in your Kindle, turn to page 58.

flip flip flip
flip flip

The Dark Creeper, failing to provoke any reaction,
scurries away. You are able to secure safe passage
with your fellow journeymen. You arrive
and enter the dungeon, hardtack intact.

But look! A Gelatinous Cube approaches,
absorbing everyone in its path, secreting a slimy trail
of non-digestible file folders and iPhones
as it oozes along. It is heading your way.

“Could you come look at my screen?” it burbles.
(Curious, because Gelatinous Cubes usually say nothing other than: “Cube!”)
“My Excel is being wonky.”

If you choose to confront it, turn to page 11.
If you choose to flee, turn to page 14.

flip flip flip flip

“I can’t really help you with that now,” you shout
as you run in the other direction.
“I’ve got this…thing…I have to go to.”

Stumbling through the corridors, you are suddenly
in a harshly-lit chamber, in the center of which is a table piled high
with glistening pillowy pastries. A nearby orc
informs you that these are leftovers from the Finance Committee
meeting that has just adjourned at the other side of the dungeon.
“There’s coffee, too!” it adds as it brushes past.

You have dutifully packed your own sustenance
for the journey but this meagre meal pales
in comparison with what is now before you.
You have heard tell of these delicacies
frequently refused by the shadowy figures
who make up this Finance Committee.

If you approach the table and eat, turn to page 40.

How to Make Love to a Robot

(or Other Synthetic Object with Simulated Intelligence and Emotional Response)


Always carry extra lubricants,
oil to keep the pistons pumping,
pulsating properly, gears grinding hard
while the parts glide smooth like rivers,
streams, greased chains helping you
maintain a steady flow, mechanical rhythm.

Squeaking parts are fine, often preferred.


When establishing a safe word,
try to program it in as a verbal
command function, a voice-activated
off-switch just in case.

Alternatively, keep your robot on a cord plugged into
a nearby wall and give it a hard tug when you think it’s time.


Always give your robot time to warm up.


Despite claims to the contrary,
you will find a nerve cluster or
pleasure center present on most
machines that functions as a
central Gravity Spot.

Apply pressure as needed.


If 01101001001 — 10010110100010101101
10001010001110, 10000101100010 0110110
0101111. 000110101 010 1010001110 101110
011001, 01101 110 0101011110101001 111001;
1010001, but never in the shower or the rain.

Lifetime warranties do not cover water damage


Do not cross wires.


Always position yourself on top of
or horizontal to your robot.

Unless you are seeking auto-asphyxiation
pleasure from being crushed, in which case,
please refer to safeword rule b. above.


Be both gentle and rough; use discretion to determine
the sensitivity level appropriate for each situation.


Keep your robot’s batteries fresh at all times
(Duracell recommended); do not allow your robot’s
energy cells to run dry mid-function or you risk
a hazardous crash, without option for reboot.


Always use protection. Latex or Rubber
boots are recommended to establish proper
grounding and allow residual or excessive
electrical current to flow through your feet
into the ground.

Chainmail is not an acceptable form of protection
and should only be used in roleplaying (see rule b.).


Above all else,
do not remove the screw.