In the once in a generation web-series Skibidi Dab, a race of alien waveforms who exist outside the visible light spectrum has covertly conquered the human race by enmeshing themselves within telecommunications infrastructure. They live in the internet, or in radio-waves, or television signals. Only people who “Hit the Dab” by smoking DMT and dabbing can see the truth. The War On Drugs began as a way to keep people from hitting the Dab, so did backlash against Hip Hop. Taylor always suspected there was more to the show, but its creator’s untimely death confirmed it. He had no way of knowing if he was a target, being Sergei Hadžić’s most devoted viewer. If the Things Behind the Screen had plans for him, they had not yet tipped their hand.
It was in this tense state of ambiguous anxiety that Taylor attempted to retreat into the fantasy world of Faerun and clear his mind. Maddie made this very difficult. She had never been a true tabletop gamer, but this was ridiculous.
“You would do that anyway and there’s a revenant attacking—”
“Fuck the villagers,” said Maddie. “I don’t care about the revenant.”
“Ophelia!” cried Justin. “Remember your oath!”
The fan hung awkwardly from the ceiling. They all knew it would fall one day but no one fixed it because they were taking bets. The lights flickered in the kitchen to Taylor’s left where he could smell the unwashed dishes. Minis looked up at him from the worn uneven table with void-eyes. He contemplated flicking Ophelia onto the floor.
“I’m true neutral,” said Maddie.
“You’re neutral good,” muttered Taylor.
“Not now that my heart is broken!”
They had no way of knowing that this campaign was meant to impart wisdom Taylor couldn’t hope to transfer directly, but the Things Behind the Screen did, as they had the Means of Listening and could thereby influence occultly. There was too much to lay out in a plot like this, even though he’d included clear gelatinous slimes as enemies. This was far from the truth and excluded many key factors. Normies didn’t even know oil was sentient.
“Maddie, you know he only preps one quest.”
They were in her head. They wanted Taylor to know. Earlier they’d taunted him with DJ Lonestar Ranger clips. He had some bops, but all too political to be true art, unlike Skibidi Dab. The faceless masses would never see the truth through artistic memedom, only gawk at some ginger guy going “I don’t support abortions because my momma wishes I was one. I’m a working-class southern son of a gun.”
It was an insult.
“She bestowed a token of her favor upon me, and I must liberate her from her odious oppressive father.”
“Maddie, I’m not gonna be your girlfriend.”
“Correct, no amount of estrogen could make you beautiful.”
“I miss when everything wasn’t gay.” Taylor checked Umamusume Pretty Derby under the table.
“Dude,” Justin texted him. “Whatever happened to her last week is clearly fucking with her. Just let her have this.”
“Fine!” said Taylor. “Magistrate Morninglory’s daughter lives in the tallest tower of the baronial castle on Mallard Hill, what do you—”
“Isn’t there a Pee-Lore temple there?” Hell was, indeed, other people.
“His name is not Pee-lore.”
“The cathedral is on Mallard Hill,” said Justin.
“Great! I want to go intimidate the high priest into helping me get into the castle!”
“He’s the high priest.”
“And I’m a scary oathbreaker now.”
“That means your powers don’t work.”
“Fine. It’s an opposed check. Are you sure you wan—”
“Shut up and roll you rule nazi.”
*
In the end Ophelia and Delilah died in a rain of crossbow bolts confessing their love and cursing the name of Pelor who became canonically homophobic. Their blood pooled between the cracks of the cobbled steps of Mallard Hill and Sir Tristan buried them in unconsecrated earth outside the city. Maddie DoorDashed the ice cream anyway, and hid out in her room. Justin and Taylor put in the minis back in the box.
*
“Do you have any idea what’s with her?”
“You provoke her.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know dude! She had actual cuts all over her body. Fill in some gaps.”
“Like she got mugged or something?”
“Is that impossible?”
“It’s just a question Jesus.”
“She won’t talk about it. It scares me.”
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