Otherworld TRPG Game Master Chapter 7

EP.7

Looking down.

The stairs are so dense that if you slip once, you could get seriously injured.

An old wall with random graffiti on it.

Cigarette butts and trash strewn about.

If you look up.

The uncomfortable and dirty image of the ground I saw just a moment ago is everywhere. There were

stars gathered together, holding hands and singing, and a

warm moon shining in the darkness.

I lived in Daldongne.

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Poor people have few games to play.

Jump up and down along the straight lines drawn in the parking lot.

Kicking and playing with a soccer ball that is worn out and has no elasticity.

If even that doesn’t seem possible, look up at the sky.

That’s why my childhood memories were filled with that night sky.

Because I was weak, I couldn’t play with the kids and there wasn’t much to enjoy at home.

I had already read the science textbook handed out by the social worker until the pages were worn out.

I also read the newspaper. There were a lot of difficult words, so I couldn’t understand half of them, but again and again.

So I was looking at the sky.

I was dreaming while looking at the sky.

The black night sky was a canvas just for me.

If it was your imagination, you could draw it however you wanted without having to pay for the paint.

What if I had been born rich?

If only I could have given out Choco Pie during the class president election like my classmate Taemin.

If I happened to pick up a magic lamp discarded on the street…

all my childhood imaginations would end incompletely.

The scene where he became rich. The scene where chicken was sprinkled instead of chocolate pie during the class president election.

A scene where a magic lamp is picked up from a cat’s food bowl while walking in a small village.

I couldn’t imagine the scene that followed.

In my imagination, I had won incredible luck and didn’t know what to do, so I just gave up.

Who said that imitation is the mother of creation? Just as a person who has never seen a dinosaur cannot imagine a dinosaur. I couldn’t imagine happiness, having never had it before.

I could only vaguely draw a smiling face.

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Why do people hate people? There was a time when I was in middle school and thinking about that.

I didn’t particularly want to engage in philosophical speculation.

I was curious because I was getting beaten up every day by my ‘friends’ in the same class.

Sometimes I hit you because I don’t have money, sometimes I hit you because I don’t have any supplies, and sometimes I hit you because I don’t have a mother.

Every time they swing their fists, they give a reason, but they know and I know that it is a lie.

So, I can’t help but wonder about the real reason.

What was the reason for torturing me, a quiet child?

If the bullying was for no reason, then why can people hate others even if there is no reason?

From around that time, villains began to appear in my imagination.

A monster who took my shoes away and threw them away in the bushes. A monster who secretly stabs me in the back with a thumbtack during class.

A monster that steals all the supplies you bought without spending money and throws them into the toilet.

In my imagination, I was chased by a monster and in danger, but I became rich, swung a chicken, or picked up a magic lamp.

But there was still no happy ending. Even if you take the monster away, it will come back someday.

It was a day and night, setting in reality and in dreams on a moonlit night.

One day it hurt so much.

I thought I was sick, but I wasn’t.

There were quite a few bruises on my body, but they didn’t even hurt anymore.

It was heartbreaking.

As with cavities, you start to feel pain when the bacteria penetrate the nerves.

Something important in my heart was being chipped away and chipped away until it finally reached the important part.

I cried because I was scared and sad.

If the precious part of my heart was cut away, I would no longer be myself.

The moment I stop being myself, the anger I have been holding in through my teeth will be released. I will swear, find a sharp object and lunge at my bad ‘friends’.

I wasn’t afraid of becoming a criminal.

I was afraid of my humanity being taken away.

The first time is always difficult. The second time you will be able to do it, and the third time you will get used to it.

The moment I become a person who becomes violent in the face of anger, I become just like the monsters in my imagination.

No, rather, it becomes something worse than a monster.

They have enough money to go to school, both parents live there, and they have friends who play in groups. But I didn’t have all three.

If even my humanity is taken away, there really is nothing left in my hands.

I had to guard my heart. I wanted to protect my precious heart.

I tried.

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If you observe very deeply, you can learn a lot.

So do people. Some parts are very complex, but other parts are very simple and can be diagrammed.

We distinguished human types and studied which actions would be effective for which type.

Surprisingly, people do not really appreciate unconditional devotion.

Even if you do something nice to them, you have to step back once in a while and remind them of your gratitude. People are more attached to something that they think will be taken away than to something they have.

People are very concerned about social opinion. We must use the gaze of others as a weapon.

No matter how radical a bully is, if he receives the attention of countless crowds, his spirit will be lost.

So, to those who hate me.

It is more effective to have an unspecified number of other people hate him rather than me hating him.

Instead of living according to my heart, I lived by calculating everything in my head.

I smiled even when I was sad and cried even when I was happy. While trying to please the people around me, I also made them act for me. The ‘real me’ in a corner of my heart was frustrated, but it was better to be frustrated than to be beaten.

I spent my college life mechanically like that.

I joined the club. I thought it was a good environment to build friendships.

To strengthen my social standing, I met a girlfriend. Although she wasn’t the type of person I liked very much, I could see that trouble would happen if I rejected her confession.

They must have made up and spread bad rumors about me with their venomous eyes. I thought to myself, “How dare you reject my confession?”

Then, on a day that seemed no different.

“Do you want to try something called a TRPG? I saw it on YouTube and it seemed like I would be better at it.”

said the girlfriend.

I wasn’t interested, but I didn’t refuse.

She asked me to create a character.

They didn’t even tell me the background setting and just told me to figure it out on my own since it was a fantasy.

When I got home, I laid out a piece of white paper and thought about it for a while.

What kind of character should I create? There are many genres, even just fantasy. If I make this, do I have to act? What on earth is an attack of opportunity? Etc.

While I was pondering something, something suddenly occurred to me, so I scribbled it down with a ballpoint pen.

I wrote four letters on a white piece of paper. Barbarian.

My first TRPG My first character, Barbarian, was a character that contained my wishes.

What if I… wasn’t weak and full of courage?

What if he was a real man who split the heads of every rude person he encountered in half?

Isn’t it a fun imagination?

At that time, I didn’t even know if I wanted to rewrite my unhappy childhood.

If I were to evaluate it now, it was a bad attitude. Once again, characters and players had to be differentiated.

With a sloppy GM and a sloppy player meeting, the future of the session was as clear as fire.

When my character, the Barbarian, saw an enemy, he split his head open.

Even when NPCs asked for stories and it seemed like they were trying to tell some pitiful story, I just rolled the dice.

The GM introduced too many suspiciously powerful NPCs.

Why do people like the prince of the empire and the Grand Duke of the North appear while investigating a mine in a mountain village?

There was nothing my character could do. Those handsome guys are in charge of cleaning up the leftovers after wiping out all the threats on the continent.

And then it exploded.

It was natural.

My first TRPG was a crappy TRPG like this, but what can I say. I had a strange feeling.

Maybe you liked the idea of moving with your heart rather than your head.

Or… maybe

he thought that he might be able to complete

the story that could not be depicted in the moonlit night sky through this game called TRPG.

so.

That’s why I started liking TRPGs.

I wanted to find a story in this small play unfolding on paper.

This is a very exciting and wonderful story that can redeem all the unfortunate parts of my life.

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“…What do you think the story is about?”

“First of all, romance has to be included. It’s fun to include love in the session.”

“and?”

“Adversity and hardship are always necessary. The protagonist must overcome hardship and grow.”

“also?”

“There has to be humor. Humor can kill two birds with one stone. It’s funny in itself, and adding tragedy next to it adds flavor.”

“If I understand correctly, the GM is the operator of the game. The player is the player who enjoys the game… Which of the two do you want to do?”

“GM. Because the thirsty must dig a well.”

“So you created the world.”

“yes.”

“Okay, I’ll help you. I also… have a story I’m looking for. Are you going to create a world for me later? Since you’ve hogged up so much of the support money, if you have a conscience…” “

I understand.” I came out

from the railing of the moon village where I could clearly see

the rising moon and placed my little finger.

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Fatal disadvantage of telling others about your family affairs: If you come to your senses, you will feel embarrassed.

I couldn’t make eye contact with the magic tower lord for about three days.

A word from the author (author review)

One more will be uploaded later. See

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