After getting used to your new glasses— the dateviators— you'd begun to make your rounds around your house, picking up and chatting with every object you could find. The specs made every object into its human equivalent, and they'd all had unique personalities to suit it.

Chance was one of these objects. He was the human equivalent of your old D20 dice that had completely slipped your mind for quite a while. Despite going unused for so long, he didn't seem to mind the lack of attention. Instead, Chance was practically preening to get you to play some tabletop games with him. It seemed as if he didn't care about the absence, and his only focus being his passion of D&D. Particularly, sharing that passion with you again.

He was such a sweetheart about it. Chance had pre-made characters for you to pick from, and helped each step of the way so that you could get back into the swing of things as easily as possible. It was clear how much this meant to him, and how much your experience in his game meant to him.

Everything was setting up to be a wonderful campaign, until the starting day arrived. The vibe had shifted immediately, mostly due to the addition of Lux, who was your lighting system. They were really pushing Chance's buttons every step of the way, and you didn't find it in your heart to intervene much since, after all, Chance asked for them to join. It was hard to question a man who had put so much effort into curating this perfectly.

You had gotten to a climax in your campaign after a few hours, and Lux was impatient. "The beast hits you forrr... 10 damage!" He rolls his dice again, calculating Lux's damage as well. Lux scoffed from across the table. "Wow, yikes. That's like... not a great look for you."

Chance shoots Lux an utterly annoyed look, something very foreign to his face normally. "and he hit YOU, Lux, for 30 health."

Lux preens over themselves for a moment with a dramatic groan. "SERIOUSLY! Ughh... my followers won't be happy about this. Your stream numbers will tank after I die."

"Oh won't that be a shame." Chance, for once, seems almost petty. It was excruciatingly obvious how much he regretted bringing them here to your campaign. They weren't taking it seriously— taking him seriously. His fuse was growing shorter.