I worked at a festival thats going to remain nameless but suffice to say we all lived in a camp together in the desert. I decide after months of packpacking on my own I desperately neeed an escape so fuckit I'll try DnD.

Turns out Theres a guy thats also a nerd and says he'd like to start one so i go nuts grabbing character sheets and looking for people to play. Trouble is hard labour in the desert takes alot out of dudes and my DM wasnt as interested as I previously thought. So a month and change later we finally got a crew ready and finally had a night to play. I put together this ass kicking tiefling warlock ironicly named Kevin.

Now at this point I should mention i was at least 6 years younger than everyone at this job. I'd gotten a shit nickname at the beginning of the season and had become a punching bag for everybody's ribbing. People are complicated so I don't totally hate everyone but yeah, I was the butt of the collective joke and DnD turned out to be no exception.

Everyone just seemed to love making comments about what I should be doing and that set off my already tenuous anxiety over and over again during the game. So long story short, the game consisted of me struggling to sell drugs i didnt have, attempting to intimidate somebody in my party, getting knocked out and fondled by one of our fellow players who was a psychic turtle folk hero, and getting dicks drawn all over my face. Night ends, we return to hard labor the next day, and everybody else is busy for the rest of the season so Kevin remained knocked out and humiliated. Fuck me.