so last night was the penultimate session of mike's dungeons & dragons game, set in the campaign world of oisos. i've been with it through spelljammer games, across the planescape cosmology, traditional dungeon delves, the exploration of new continents, survived the zombie apocalypse & a failed expedition to castle ravenloft, just about every darn thing you can imagine. i've played character through to epic levels & beyond, to godhood. i've created prestige classes, invented religions, & ruined longstanding campaign edifices. i've given old oisos as good as i got. i've played psions, angels, scarecrows. the counterpoint to this has been mike in my game; he was the flawed poet, whose obsession dragged him into necromancy, whose friends tempted him into selling his soul, who died at the very end, in the fires of a great dragon. he played a schizophrenic interpreting orders from national inquirers. he broke the taboo on playing nonhumans in oubliette, breathing (un)life into the ghoul philosopher. it is that character that will take his send off on this coming sunday; i hope i can figure out something proper for him. mike's leaving alters things more than just on a story level: it is his basement where we all meet to play, it was him who wove together groups & kept dragging tom & scott back into the story. so phooey on you west coast, messing with my game dynamics! i guess all i can do now is take the bits & pieces i cooked up for oisos & digest them, reincorporate them into my game, my schema. look for gnostic angels, black marionette gangsters, blasphemous cambion. watch the skies!