After four rounds of Dwarven Fungus Stout the room wasn’t just spinning, it was a swirling vortex of pinks, browns, and chartreuse. Wait. No…the room really is a swirling vortex of pinks, browns, and burnt sienna. The Rhinoid hooker who whose price I was negotiating down to a Trask Industries BOGO coupon and a broken (obviously) BS Detector slowly begins to dissolve into nothingness. After what seems like a vomit inducing eternity, all the colors come back into focus, and I am standing on the deck of a Balachean Grav Galley surrounded by a dozen ninja pirate monkeys. I reach to my hip to grab my trusty Zap-a-gun when I remember the Rhinoid hooker and realize I am wearing only a loin cloth and a party hat. Crap…
If this sounds even remotely like your idea of a good Friday night, then TftFV 2E is just the ticket. 5/5 for me!
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