Friday night. Clark Kent’s apartment in Metropolis.
A card table is set up in the middle of the living room, suspiciously sturdy for something from the bargain shop. On it: pizza boxes, crisps, a two-litre bottle of cola, and enough dice to fill a gelatinous cube.
Nobody knows their mild-mannered host is Superman. Clark adjusts his glasses and does his usual impression of a man who can’t open a jar of pickles.
THE GUEST LIST OF DOOM
Kev, the Dungeon Master, arrives first, clutching a battered red D&D rulebook from 1983. His shirt reads: “Race as Class or Get Out.”
Fiona follows, armed with laminated character sheets and the soul of a rules lawyer.
Gary, lugging his “lucky” dice that always roll low.
Lois Lane, curious and suspicious.
Jimmy Olsen, camera in hand, convinced this night will be “totally epic.”
Perry White, uninvited but following the pizza scent.
Lex, the new guy from the mail room. Bald, sinister grin, insists he’s “just here for the game.”
Clark greets them all with shy smiles, secretly worrying that if he laughs too hard the table will snap in half.
BACK TO BASICS
Kev slams the rulebook onto the table. “We’re playing BECMI tonight; Basic, Expert, the way Gary Gygax, and possibly Dave Arneson, intended! None of that fancy Fifth Edition nonsense. Roll 3d6 in order. No re-rolls. No feats. No safety net. If you die at level one, you die. You’ll be lucky to survive the first giant rat.”
Perry groans. “Sounds like my first day at the Planet.”
ROLLING FOR STATS: THE SLAUGHTER BEGINS
Gary goes first: 10, 12, 7, 9, 8, 11. He shrugs. “Seen worse.”
Fiona rolls: two 13s and a 15. “Not bad for an Elf.”
Clark fumbles the dice and pretends to strain as he rolls: 18, 18, 18, 18, 18, 18.
Kev squints at him. “You’d better enjoy that while it lasts. Level one characters die in a stiff breeze.”
Lex rolls a 4 for Strength, then a 5 for Constitution, then a 3 for Dexterity. His character sheet looks like a death certificate.
Lois gets solid numbers and picks a Thief. “Finally, a job where I get paid to be nosy.”
Jimmy rolls poorly and settles for Halfling. “At least I’ll fit in a backpack.”
Perry rolls a 6 in Intelligence and declares he’s playing a Fighter named “Kragg White, Slayer of Deadlines.”
Clark smiles shyly. “I’ll be… a Cleric of the Sun.”
Lois narrows her eyes. “Cleric with perfect stats. Huh.”
MEET THE PARTY
Fiona: Elf named Thistle Everleaf.
Gary: Dwarf called Grunk the Slightly Tipsy.
Lois: Thief named Lira Quickstep.
Jimmy: Halfling named Pip Pockets.
Perry: Fighter named Kragg White, Slayer of Deadlines.
Lex: Magic-User named Mortivar Doomstein, who swears he’s only studying magic to “improve the economy.”
Clark: Cleric named Brother Kent of the Sun.
Kev rubs his hands together. “Excellent. I give you one session before half of you are dead.”
THE ADVENTURE BEGINS: TPK INCOMING
Kev describes a crumbling dungeon full of dripping walls and ominous squeaks. “You see a single corridor leading down. The smell of mildew and certain death fills the air. Who’s first?”
Grunk charges forward. Fails his first saving throw versus poison. “You feel woozy,” Kev cackles.
Pip Pockets tries to check for traps and rolls a natural 1. Falls straight into a pit.
Lira Quickstep steals the pit’s rope.
Mortivar Doomstein tries to cast Sleep, fails his roll for memorisation, and forgets his only spell.
Brother Kent of the Sun gently lifts the portcullis blocking the way. Kev frowns. “You can’t do that without rolling.”
Clark rolls. Natural 18. Kev squints harder.
FIRST COMBAT: RATS OF DEATH
A horde of giant rats attacks.
Grunk swings his axe and misses.
Thistle fires an arrow and grazes one rat’s whisker.
Pip Pockets throws a stone and hits Perry’s Fighter instead.
Mortivar Doomstein hides behind the Thief and blames the lighting.
Brother Kent of the Sun smashes two rats with his mace and heals Grunk without losing a spell slot.
Lois stares at him. “That’s not how BECMI healing works.”
Clark shrugs. “Must’ve rolled really well.”
THE BOSS FIGHT: THE SLIME KING
The party reaches the slime-coated lair of the Slime King.
Kragg White, Slayer of Deadlines, charges and gets stuck.
Pip Pockets dives in after him and gets glued to the floor.
Mortivar Doomstein panics and attempts to cast Magic Missile but discovers he didn’t prepare it.
Thistle tries to talk to the slime “elf to ooze,” rolls a 2.
Brother Kent of the Sun raises his holy symbol. “I’ll try to… reason with it.”
Kev grins. “Reaction roll. 2d6.”
Clark rolls. A perfect 12. The Slime King surrenders and promises to reform, literally, into a compost heap for the local farmers.
Kev glares. “This is not how this dungeon was meant to go.”
AFTER THE GAME
Gary: “I’ve been eaten by rats in this dungeon before. This is the first time we lived.”
Fiona: “I’m keeping an eye on that cleric. Nobody rolls that many 18s.”
Lois: “Brother Kent of the Sun. Interesting choice. I’m writing a feature on you.”
Jimmy: “I’m calling my photo essay ‘Heroes of the Rat War.’”
Perry: “I’m demanding hazard pay.”
Lex: “Next session, I’m multi-classing… in revenge.”
Clark smiles, offers more crisps, and quietly hopes no one asks why the table hasn’t collapsed under the weight of all that pizza.
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