"Well, enough time wasting," you bark, "let's get started." You pull your stringy hair into a ponytail for immersion purposes. Dirk pulls out his character sheet and notebook and starts his roleplaying. "So, we were in Cloverhoof Swamp, right? Where we met the--" "ACTUALLY!" You can't help but shriek, Dirk is slow on the uptake sometimes and it's how a man of your superior authority regains control. "If you had been paying attention to my worldbuilding memos, you would have seen that I decided to introduce realtime elements. Your character died since our last session and mine became WhickerKing Marty, mate to her majesty Goddess SparkleMane. You're going to have to make a new character."
Dirk's face bunches up defiantly. What a petulant novice. You were going to become the WhickerKing sooner or later, and create a decree to banish the Pegasus clan to the Outer Cloud Stables. It was only a matter of time before he would have had to create a new character anyways. "It's not very fun playing this game when you don't let me do anything," Dirk says, disturbing your fast-paced thoughts. How tiresome. "Fine," you say, "we can pick up from last time. But it's such a step down from my superior story." Your friend nods happily. The things you do for him, you think. You are truly a legendary gentleman.
"Ah, yes," you say, sipping your lemon-lime elixir, "we were just about to face the Musclehoof." Dirk grins gleefully. You've seen his tumblr, it's full of commissioned drawings of his fursona, a muscular green tiger. He clearly doesn't have the taste to enjoy your imported hentai films -- the man needs to culture himself with some international cinema. "Here, let me roll to see if I can cast an illusion on him," says your friend, scratching his bristly chin. At least Dirk was wise enough to choose the second best class in the game, the SilentClop. It's the magical thief archetype of the game. Of course, you are the most superior class, one of your own design, the PolyPony - you get to choose from all abilities in the game.
Dirk grabs his green dice from their case. "How many do I get to roll?" he asks. He relies on your superior intellect to make calculations, but you can't blame him. "Well, that's obvious. Because you have 6 more intellect points than the beast, you get to roll 6 dice." Dirk shakes out the dice from his cupped hands, and the two of you examine the results. You speak first, clearly having calculated the results before your less elite companion. "27," you say authoritatively. "Actually, I think that's 28," says Dirk. How dare he question your math! You look down at the dice and realize he's correct, but when you look back up, your friend is no longer sitting there.
In his place is a very muscular young man. But wait, that is Dirk, your step brother. Even geniuses like yourself make mistakes, however fleeting. Dirk looks at you strangely. "Marty? I..." You stare at him blankly. "Yes, Dirk?" Whatever that look was, it's washed off his face quickly. "Is this faggoty game over yet? I told my bitch mom I would play one round with you, but I didn't know it would take, like, an hour." You scoff. "How dare you call this exalted game "faggoty". That isn't even a word, you dullard. I guess some people are just too... SIMPLE to understand the intricacies of the MTH universe." Dirk gets up from the table swiftly, knocking over your GM screen. "Did you call me stupid you fat little shit? I'll beat the shit out of you if you can't keep your greasy little mouth shut."
You feel blessed to not be sharing any genes with your neanderthal step-brother. He looks like a dumb jock, with medium-long wavy blond hair, big muscled arms, tight clothes from big overpriced "fashion" stores, and a big caveman brow and square head. You pity him -- although for some reason, femoids seem to eat him up. When will they see the value of a man of intellect? In 15 years, he'll be some dumb janitor and you'll be a CEO or well-paid government hacker. Yes, you think, scratching an itch on your hairy asscrack, you are destined for greatness.
You are forcibly removed from the rapture of your own thoughts when...