It’s 1994, Soundgarden is on the tape-deck and I am about to make the biggest gaming decision of my spotty life. We’re at the end of a bloated, messy Rolemaster campaign which has seen multiple character changes, some critical wins and a whole heap of epic fails. We’ve been tanking for the last couple of sessions, and now we’ve finally made it to the sunken ziggurat from which all the nasties have poured out into the world. Half the party is engaged in an endurance ritual to try to close the warp gate, and me and John have to decide how our characters are going to stem the horde of mutated orcish Darklings.

We both know that we’re probably not going to make it out alive. But we just have to hold out until the ritual is completed. His half-elf has gone from Ranger to multi-classing Ranger/Paladin, and my obnoxious human Thief is now a Rogue/Scout. We’ve come a long way, baby.

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