It's a metaphore for my life. There are many horrible reasons I want to keep realism out of these games.
The next poster will thank me because I rectified all such reasons.
You wrecked my what? And I'm supposed to thank you?
The next poster writes Hallmark-esque "@#$& You!" cards and will share a poem.
Ha ha, you thing, you have come last
In this great game of life.
Keith has got your bank details
And I have f$&~ed your wife.
The next poster will wreak vengeance on Keith.
I would hear the Evil Janitor scream...
The next poster knows just to do with that mop of his...
<burp> What? I was hungry.
The next poster is a model citizen...in a very bad, bad land.
I am the Essence of Malodoria. All your housemaids are belong to me.
The next poster has a novel solution to the Servant Problem.
Blend the novelists and their works into a nutritious slurry to feed to your packs of vicious hounds and other on-site predators.
I happen to have a blender that will accommodate five novelists in my kitchen, should the need arise.
The next poster has a recipe for a delicious fruit smoothie that contains less human flesh than you might think!
The secret is locally-sourced Princess extract. It’s the secret ingredient in many of my recipes!
The next poster is a local princess extract supplier.
Yes. That's what it is - 'Extract of Princess'. Yes, definitely. Ignore the oddly ammonial smell.
The next poster is a Handsome Plinth.
Why, thank you! And I believe you've met the twins: Megalith and Monolith.
The next poster knows the real purpose of Stonehenge!
I left because of all the Meowdy meow meow. Cats don't talk like that!
The next poster has a fear of Barny.
That's because he's not a guy in a costume singing songs. Oh no, he's a real purple dinosaur and he 1) ate a guy 2) is slowly digesting him (like the Sarlacc) 3) is forcing that guy to dance and sing songs while being digested!
And your post about Barney was 6066. illuminati confirmed.
The next poster has an interesting conspiracy theory.
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If I were to tell you the theory, crocodiles in the sewers, mothmen, the New Jersey Devil, Bigfoot, the illuminati, stonemasons, project mk ultra, the new world order, Teletubbies and GoatToucher would draw straws to see who gets to do despicable things to my corpse. F that, on the slim chance GoatToucher draws the short straw.
The next poster has an uninteresting conspiracy theory.
Chickens are actually elderly eggs, but the Hidden Masters have concealed this truth for years.
The next poster has seen the Count of St. Germain working in Starbucks, and can prove it.
#deadlookonfleek #soulessforthewin
The next poster isn't happy with the service they have received.
... F that, on the slim chance GoatToucher draws the short straw.
Yes. You wouldn't really be "allowed to die" per se.
Not for some time.
The next poster isn't happy with the service they have received.
Certainly not. I asked for this drink without lemon!
The next poster will wreak a grim and thematically appropriate vengeance upon those who have dared to cross me.
The last expansion has all of the remaining leaders die and the PCs forced to spend their days as bored rulers who must make constant rulings on incredibly boring matters. No more adventures or fights remain.
The next poster would play that for at least a week.
I do. I really do.
The next poster is helping Stan work through this.
Yes, Stan, that's it... Remember he's not real... Remember it's all an illusion... Remember you will rob the bank today at four... Remember he cannot hurt you...
The next person understands why it's a blindfold kick back type of a game. Whereas you look left and they fall right. It's a they-think you-think you don't know where you take your time, wait your turn, and hang them up, and out to dry.
I know, but you know and I don't have to explain it to you.
The next poster knows the true meaning of the midwinter feast.
The next poster is sitting on their presents to try and make them hatch.
Any day now...
The next poster is sleeping. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
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*Wakes up. Is still riding a banana and wielding a lance made of twizzlers*
The next poster is responsible for maintaining the Wall of Sleep.
zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
The wall is impenetrable
The next poster haunts other posters dreams.
It's the last time I let someone get me drunk while I'm a druid. A restaurant closed down because its salads would not stop begging people for mercy.
The next person is the one who got me drunk and now regrets it.
I will not regret it! It was hilarious ;D
The next poster runs their own tavern and will recite the specials.
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Egg and bacon
Egg, sausage and bacon
Egg and Spam
Egg, bacon and Spam
Egg, bacon, sausage and Spam
Spam, bacon, sausage and Spam
Spam, egg, Spam, Spam, bacon and Spam
Spam, Spam, Spam, egg and Spam
Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, Spam, baked beans, Spam, Spam, Spam and Spam
Lobster Thermidor aux crevettes with a Mornay sauce, garnished with truffle pâté, brandy and a fried egg on top, and Spam.
The next poster knows what he wants to eat now.
Two orders of fried egg and spam. Give the spam to the hungry people looking in through the window. I'm allergic to Sodium Nitrate preservative.
The next poster knows the Spam Song by heart.
I've been banned from playing a bard because they sang it as a motivation song during battle.
The next poster is banned from playing a bard for entirely different reasons.
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We've tried and tried and tried, but it's impossible to get a tune out of one. Best off sticking with trombones, says the fairy conductor.
The next poster is a fairy resistor.
We calculate my value as V = I x R, whereas V is my anger, I represents the fairies, and R represents my unexcitement. Thus, if 12 fairies do very boring things (such as play in a trombone orchestra) then I get very angry.
Then next poster smashes every dinner plate and cup they come across.
We have had enough of your lies, Sliska! Again and again, accusing poor, innocent tableware!
The next poster is a witness, a surprising one.
Six times a night, if I can get it!
Oh. Fork. I see.
The next poster has United Cutlery.
Yes. Under one banner. Now all the cutlery bows to me!
The next poster can lick their own elbows.
They taste like dirt and day old Frappuccinos.
The next poster has been using my elbows to enact their master plan.