The game made no sense to me and the guys kept telling me how happy they were that I was there, and every time I tried to make an excuse to leave, they begged me to stay, saying that having a pretty girl at their table would make people interested in their game, and they were lonely and didn't get to talk to pretty girls much. The one guy took my picture and asked to put it on the games website. I was thoroughly creeped out and made an excuse about that time and hightailed it out of there. It's not that I mind lonely social misfits, (I am, in fact, a lonely social misfit) it's just that compliments and flattery make me really uncomfortable.

I met with Mike and he told me about his really bad Conan experience, but he was really excited about playing Stormbringer. Evidently the GM at Conan didn't approve of his hand-written ticket and when some people with generic tokens showed up he kicked Mike out. Never mind the fact Mike had signed up for this game months in advance, and these guys were just walk-ins. Mike went to complain at the sign-up desk, and did get his $3 back, but he had nothing do for hours since all of the RPG's that started in the noontime slot were well under way. We got a quick bite to eat at Wendy's and went back to the convention.

I was looking forward to my 6:00 game with Kurt. It was in the Rogue Cthulhu room. The atmosphere was great. It was lit by black light only, there was a giant inflatable Cthulhu in the corner, and a DJ was playing creepy atmospheric music.

We were playing “Got Milk” in which we played evil cultists. I played an ex-business man with megalomania; a ruthless bastard who seized control of a company. That changed when my son threw me into a mental institution. My doctor “cured” me by having me and the other patients burn down the institution, and then driving to a Spanish church. A few of the patients went into the church coming out covered with blood, carrying a book and a vial of blood-like liquid. Then we went to a secluded ski resort, where the story took place.

Kurt played my lackey, and I got to enjoy berating him and commanding him around. Mike stopped in and begged us to come play Stormbringer with him. He was the only one who showed up. I felt really bad because this was the one event he had been looking forward to most; the Keeper was Charlie Krank, the game's designer and head of Chaosium. I was really looking forward to my game, so we turned him down. The rest of the characters were the doctor, an ex-soldier, and old man named Myron, a drug addicted poet, and a harmless old lady. As it happens, things did not go as planned and we completely derailed the expected outcome. All but the doctor and the soldier were killed in the first two hours of the game. The harmless little old lady didn't like what I had to say about the good doc and she “scolded” me, killing me with her knitting needles. Strangely enough, a month later I decided to take up knitting in real life. The Keeper kept getting up to confer with the Keeper at the next table. It turns out the players next to us were playing investigators who were following our group. I ended up as a zombified servant of Glaaki.