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<blockquote data-quote="Drammattex" data-source="post: 4142689" data-attributes="member: 55363">Mearls is in my dining room. I sit him down, say &quot;Let's throw some dice.&quot;We pull out the graph mats, the dice, the minis, and those leatherbound 3.5 core books on my shelf. Mearls looks comfortable. He looks happy.&quot;Drink?&quot; I say. &quot;Coke? Margarita? Vino?&quot;Mearls asks for a can of Coke. It's less likely to have been tampered with.We pull our chairs up to the table, and then it begins. In a couple hours, he'll be clawing the walls, trying to get out of there for the love of God. But he doesn't know that yet. We play by the rules. We play by the exact rules, precisely as written. Mearls begs for mercy, but I will have none of it. Every grapple check, every spell component, every preposterously templated creature, situational modifier, and stackable effect. Until at last he caves.&quot;This is agony,&quot; says Mearls. &quot;This is D&amp;D!&quot;&quot;Maybe we can make some... minor adjustments, streamline a little of this endless drudgery.&quot;I shrug. Watching Mearls squirm has its own appeal. &quot;I have Iron Heroes,&quot; I say.&quot;I'm forbidden to talk about that,&quot; says Mearls. &quot;That was another life. Another man. Besides, it would take more than Iron Heroes to save this game.&quot; I can't help but pity him now. He has stacked his dice in a perfectly balanced vertical tower on the tabletop, and hasn't touched them once since I started calculating the effects of entangle on the couple dozen-odd orcs... half an hour ago. &quot;Alright, Mearls,&quot; I say. &quot;If you're so smart, you show me how you would fix this... situation... and we'll finish the adventure on your terms. If it works, hell... If it works, I'll let you watch Battlestar Galactica.&quot;I watch Mearls' eyes glaze over as he fantasizes about the end of the horrible, inhumane cruelty I've dragged him through. Or maybe somewhere in his mind, Caprica Six is 'doing him a favor.' I'm never quite sure. But it works.Fifteen minutes later, the orcs are dead, the action is moving forward, and the secrets are spilling out like kobold guts on the pointy end of a sneak attack. It's almost as good as Battlestar Galactica. Almost.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Drammattex, post: 4142689, member: 55363"] Mearls is in my dining room. I sit him down, say "Let's throw some dice." We pull out the graph mats, the dice, the minis, and those leatherbound 3.5 core books on my shelf. Mearls looks comfortable. He looks happy. "Drink?" I say. "Coke? Margarita? Vino?" Mearls asks for a can of Coke. It's less likely to have been tampered with. We pull our chairs up to the table, and then it begins. In a couple hours, he'll be clawing the walls, trying to get out of there for the love of God. But he doesn't know that yet. We play by the rules. We play by the exact rules, precisely as written. Mearls begs for mercy, but I will have none of it. Every grapple check, every spell component, every preposterously templated creature, situational modifier, and stackable effect. Until at last he caves. "This is agony," says Mearls. "This is D&D!" "Maybe we can make some... minor adjustments, streamline a little of this endless drudgery." I shrug. Watching Mearls squirm has its own appeal. "I have Iron Heroes," I say. "I'm forbidden to talk about that," says Mearls. "That was another life. Another man. Besides, it would take more than Iron Heroes to save this game." I can't help but pity him now. He has stacked his dice in a perfectly balanced vertical tower on the tabletop, and hasn't touched them once since I started calculating the effects of [i]entangle[/i] on the couple dozen-odd orcs... half an hour ago. "Alright, Mearls," I say. "If you're so smart, you show me how you would fix this... situation... and we'll finish the adventure on your terms. If it works, hell... If it works, I'll let you watch Battlestar Galactica." I watch Mearls' eyes glaze over as he fantasizes about the end of the horrible, inhumane cruelty I've dragged him through. Or maybe somewhere in his mind, Caprica Six is 'doing him a favor.' I'm never quite sure. But it works. Fifteen minutes later, the orcs are dead, the action is moving forward, and the secrets are spilling out like kobold guts on the pointy end of a sneak attack. It's almost as good as Battlestar Galactica. [i]Almost[/i]. [/QUOTE]

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