Steve: Hell frigging yeah, bro! This is what games are all about!
Zack: Giant sinister umbrella stands and archery?
Steve: No, no, no, dude. Huge racks, knights charging at crap with lances, knights fighting other knights, castles and junk. It's the best.
Zack: I don't know, it seems to be missing something. Like a dragon or a skeleton.
Steve: Yo, look, there are two kinds of fantasy. There is high fantasy, which is like Hobbit stuff and orcs and goblins and dragons. Then there is low fantasy, which is like realistic fantasy like Conan or Gor.
Zack: How can you tell the difference?
Steve: Two ways: wizards and racks. In high fantasy wizards own totally, in low fantasy wizards get their butts kicked non stop by badasses. In high fantasy racks can be sweet as heck, but they're also like classy racks, in low fantasy the babes are total freaks with huge jugs just going buck wild all the time. Some of them might not even wear a top, they're just that secure in their broadness.
Zack: So what you're saying is that goblins and huge jugs cannot coexist?
Steve: Right, but that rule doesn't apply to lizard men, who could be mutated men who just worshipped a fallen god too much. They love mega-hooters.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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