What Hell May Come
Jon found that he was suddenly dehydrated.
“The game,” he croaked.
“What an ornery cuss. Fine, the game,” he sparked another smoke, the same peppermint curl flowed from it. “Certain parties weren’t satisfied with the will-they won’t-they outcome of these rites and tried to come up with a way to standardize it. Dark Dungeons. An elegant and versatile system, which can be altered to fit the needs of the players, yet structured enough to force all minds down the same rabbit hole.”
“And it even works when the people playing have no idea what it’s all about,” said Jon.
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