Mark “Rent-boy” Renton: [narrating] Choose Dice. Choose a class. Choose a career. Choose a race. Choose a fucking big sword, choose plate armor, horse, lute and spell books. Choose good con, low charisma, and hit point insurance. Choose fixed interest levelling engagements. Choose a starter dungeon. Choose your party. Choose cape and matching back pack. Choose three henchmen on hire purchase in a range of assing attires. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting at that game table watching mind-eating, spirit-draining game masters, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable dungeon, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up orcs you spawned to fight yourselves. Choose your future. Choose dice … But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose dice. I chose somethin’ else. And the XP? There are no XP. Who needs XP when you’ve got storytelling?
Hvis filmcitatet var rollespil.