So, as it turns out, the apocalypse didn’t happen in 2012, but it was only couple of weeks off. Well, that’s not entirely true. Some people claim that it really started on the 21st of December, 2012. But my apocalypse, the one that actually changed my life in a tangible way, didn’t hit until around the second week of January or so.
See, the 21st of December was actually a pretty tame day for me. I woke up in the afternoon, maybe five or so, ate a bit of something, and got down to work on my campaign because I didn’t have to get to work for like another few hours. I was paying rent to my parents by working a graveyard shift down at the Cumby’s in town then, which sucked. Really the only upside of that situation was that I was living in an essentially windowless basement, so my sleep was pretty regular after I got off work. And it was stable, which isn’t exactly the case anymore. That was nice.
Anyways, the point is that even if people in Singapore or somewhere were dying by the thousands on the 21st, it was a pretty normal day for me.
My life started getting interesting on, I’m pretty sure it was what could be characterized as either the late night of Saturday the 5th of January or the early morning of Sunday the 6th. I was running my campaign in my apartment (basement, really) with some buddies, and here’s how it went down:
Freddy: “Ok, so I’m gonna whip out my vorpal greatsword, which is a free action because I’ve got Quick Draw, and make a charge on the dragon. So, with the plus-two from the charge, does a twenty-six hit?”
Me: “Uhm, nah. Sorry, man. Gonna have to better than that. That makes it… Liam’s turn.”
Liam: “So, has anyone hit this thing yet?”
Me: “Um, no.”
Liam: “Shit, this motherfucker must be old. I guess I’ll try a Summon Monster, which gets me… a celestial triceratops. That’s ridiculous, but I still want it. I want to cast it flanking the dragon with Freddy. And it attacks immediately and…it doesn’t hit. Twenty-two.”
Me: “Ok, that makes it the dragon’s turn, and it’s going to use its breath weapon…”
And just as I was picking up a big handful of d6’s, my mom started hammering on my door.
“My God, boys, you have to come up here and see this!” she shouted.
Now, I was sick of my folks interrupting my games; I sort of figured that the reminder that I lived in my parents’ basement sort of killed the vibe of a good session. So I bellowed back up the stairs, “We’re sort of in the middle of something down here; can it wait?”
“No, I think you guys should see this,” she said.
It sounded pretty urgent so, I looked back at the guys, rolled my eyes, and put my dice down. “Alright, mom, we’re coming.”
So we all got up and sort of trudged upstairs. I usually kept the door to my apartment locked to lend some vestige of privacy to my living arrangement. I spun the lock open, and we all stepped into the kitchen. My mom was standing there, waiting for us. Her eyes were bugged out and she was practically hyperventilating.
“What’s up?” I said, actually getting a bit concerned at this point. The guys were sort of giving each other significant looks.
“Just go out on the porch,” she said, pointing with a shaking finger. We did as she said because she seemed like deadly fucking serious, but we were all really evidently confused. I was afraid that my mom was going crazy right up until my dad poked his head in through the front door and said, “Come on kids, you gotta see this.” His voice was thin, almost reverent. We sort of shuffled up to the door and all filed out onto the porch. Then I was afraid I was going crazy.
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