Christopher awoke to total darkness and a pounding chloroform headache. The last thing he remembered was one of his gamers, Kevin, standing in front of him and saying, “I’m not sorry for this.”

“What is this?” he yelped into the silence. “What’s going on here? I’ll have you know this is SUPPOSED to be my figurine painting night! WHERE AM I?”

A voice hissed from somewhere in the inky black that surrounded him. “It is pitch dark. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.” The sinister giggle that followed nearly caused Chris’s bladder to relax involuntarily.

Chris tried to rise from his seat, but unknown restraints held him fast. He struggled and squirmed against them frantically. He could feel something was on his face covering his glasses and in his ears, but he didn’t know what. “Kevin?! Kevin, is that you, you fink? You either untie me at once or you are OUT OF MY GAME, do you hear me? WHAT IS GOING ON?”

Another small laugh and then, “You are in a dark room. You can see nothing. You can move nowhere. The only voices are your own and that of what you assume to be your captor’s. You hear the voice say this: ‘Answer truthfully the five questions I pose to you, and you will be set free without harm. Will you do as I command?’”

Chris spat laughter into the darkness. “You call that DMing? I could write a better intro than that on my worst GAAAAAAAH!” Something large and extremely heavy fell upon Christopher’s feet, causing him to yell out in a high-pitch. He could feel the tears well up in his eyes and stream down his face.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s begin.” Images erupted before his eyes, causing him to squint against the brightness of twin high-resolution 428 x 240 LCD widescreen displays. As his eyes adjusted, he saw that he was watching movies of his gaming group, the same ones he’d been making for years as a way of reviewing his storytelling abilities, all blown up in a virtual 55-inch display as seen from 10 feet. This one had been made a long time ago, too. He could tell because there were four players instead of only three. The movie suddenly halted on one member of the group just about to roll his d6. The voice continued. “Behold! Dilfore the Dwarven Thief ! How did you betray him?”

“Bobby? Betrayal? Oh, you mean the… Heh. Yeah, Dilfore was paid handsomely for a… service he provided for me. He was so excited about it, too. He could’ve had all the ale and lusty barmaids he wanted if he hadn’t run afoul of those nasty bandits that just happened to take their loot. Thieves stealing the thief’s gold. I thought that was genius.”

The image continued then until Kevin came into frame. He looked as though he were about to make one of his long-winded courageous speeches. “And here is Martok the Monk. What did you take from him?”

“He wanted quite a few magic items for the same favor Difore did for me. Made him a pretty successful character for, oh, about one session. A shame about all those rust monsters invading the camp like that. You know, he had to step outside and cry a little when that happened. What a sucker.”

Once again, the movie advanced before his eyes until Ryan was caught mid high-five. “What about Frable the Cleric? How did he fare in your treachery?”

Christopher smiled as he thought back to the day of the deal. “Oh, I’m proudest of that one. He swore he’d never stand back and watch as I destroyed his best friend’s character. Oh, but stat bonuses are a powerful temptation when offered. With all the bonuses I put on him, there was no way he could say no to me. He would’ve been the most powerful Cleric in the whole game’s realm if it hadn’t been for that nasty little spell that drained him of levels. I was so giddy afterwards, I barely slept!” Christopher giggled despite his situation. It was an action that brought swift pain down upon his feet once more.

“Silence, Dungeon Master. There is one more you must tell me about. HIM.” The video had played up to a young man with blonde hair wearing a large hooded sweatshirt. He smiled as he moved his figure towards a small treasure chest on the hand drawn map before him. “What about him?”

“Ah, yes,” said Christopher, “Erin Bladespan. The big hero. Always so witty. Always so brave. Always knew just where the traps were or what secret objective had to be achieved to bring his party victory. I had him killed.”

“Why?”

“Why? You mean to tell me you can’t tell by looking at the iPod, iPhone, iPad, or whatever NTSC or PAL audio/video device you’ve got controlling the video? Look at them all. They’re having fun. FUN! In my campaign! All that planning, all that hard work to devise traps and horrors that would break their spirits! I’m a DUNGEON MASTER. The wailing and gnashing of teeth of my players is the only thing the fuels my existence! But that player, that HERO, had to ruin it all by being clever! HE HAD TO DIE.

“So I meet the other three in secret. I told them that their gods would reward them if they would just stand by idly as their dark justice was brought down upon the Ranger. Oh, the look on his face when his character was cut down! The way he looked at his former friends when they would do nothing to stop it! It was the greatest night of my life.

“Now then, I’ve answered your questions! Release me or tell me what you want!”

The voice roared out from seemingly everywhere. “What do I want?! WHAT DO I WANT?!”

Suddenly, the room lit up. An unknown hand reached up and yanked the Vuzix Wrap 310XL Video Eyewear from his face, the detachable premium quality noise-isolating earphones pulling his head forward just before popping out of his ears. Slowly, he lifted his head and stared in horror at what he saw before him.

There they all were. His gaming group. Kevin, Ryan, and Bobby, were all seated around a large table in the dim basement light, their character sheets and figs all laid out before them. Both Kevin and Bobby were tied to their chairs with what looked like dried blood matting their hair and staining their foreheads. Not Ryan, though. Ryan just sat there, silently staring down at his hands in his lap and fumbling with a twenty-sided die.

Beside him, a man in a hooded sweatshirt placed the Vuzix Wrap 310XL Video Eyewear and its ultra-thin cords on the table and strode to its head. As he took his seat behind Chris’s own Dungeon Master’s screen, Christopher saw the face of the man who played the PC he’d killed so many years ago, grinning wildly.

“I want my character back, you son of a lich.”

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