To the DM's left is a tall, muscular, yet slightly portly man, who awaits those next words with anticipation and dread. He had been the one to get them into the precarious predicament which the group found themselves, since he had blundered into danger like a blind drunkard. Seated across from him is a man of near equal size and strength, but a bit more rotund than his foolish companion. This one takes a deep swig of his Mountain Dew, killing off the remnants which had dwelt within the cylindrical container. He slams the can down onto the surface of the wooden table and then cracks his knuckles before leaning back in the chair, waiting to hear what disaster his friend has brought upon the group this time.

The DM looks back down at the paper, reading it aloud once again. He begins to read slowly at first to add an extra effect to the situation, and then hastens upon reaching the intricate imagery provided by details of the room and monsters before them. A fierce curse bellows out from the large man upon hearing this confrontation, and his companion slams his fist down upon the table in frustration, causing everything to shift slightly out of place. A slight grin slowly appears on the face of the DM as his right hand hovers over the ominous twenty-sided die. His fingers close around the geometrical object, and he gently rolls it about the palm of his hand with his thumb. A light, mischevious chuckle escapes his lips as he sets the die before the large man.

'You need to roll a 13 or higher in order to survive the Incinerate spell which was held within the confines of a small trigger-stone you stepped on.' says the DM.

'What!? Why me!? He is the one who got us into this mess!' retorts the large man.

'True, but you also decided to go first, since you are the brave warrior, and he is just the pitiful mage, remember?'

'Damn! Son of a...! A thirteen? How do you figure?'

'Well, since it was a triggered trap, you must roll a saving throw against spell in order to survive the flames and take only half damage.'

'Half damage!? Why am I always the bitch!? Why not the mage? He is the drunkard who got us into this mess!'

'I already explained it to you, and my decision stands. I could have it kill you now, no saving throw at all. Would you prefer that?'

'Oh, alright. I'll roll the dice.'

He picks up the die, briefly closing his eyes and hoping it will roll good for him this time. He lets the die roll out of his hand and it bounces abross the table in front of him, passing over various numbers. All three of them lean forward, anxious to see the outcome of the roll, eager to know how his character shall fare from this peril. The die teeters upon the edge of one of its sides, slowing to a stop. Time seems to inch by, as the die rolls over, showing the number fourteen. A sigh of relief fills the air around the table, and the DM rolls up the damage, taking it by half, and the adventure progresses...

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When given the stipulation of making an introductory paper about myself which included an extended metaphor, I was quite perplexed as to what I could do. A thousand different ideas came to mind in an instant, and I had to weed through them all in order to figure out which one would be the best to use, and give me the greatest material to work with. It could not be too easy of a metaphor, yet not too complex, either. In the end, I chose a topic which has personal meaning to me, yet it also gave good material to work with. In case you were wondering, the DM in that little story introduction was me, for it is in the game of Dungeons and Dragons where I first became intrigued by the randomness of the dice.

My life, along with the lives of all of is, is the roll of the dice. Each time we make a decision, no matter how big or small, there is that bit of randomness in the outcome, just like the roll of the dice. We live life, hoping for luck to aid us in getting the good "rolls," and curse our luck when things go awry. Whether we acknowledge it or not, we abide by chance in all things we do. But there are various sizes, shapes and sides for each of the different dice, representing the various degrees of chance in all that we do. Sometimes we only need to roll a two or higher on a four-sided die, and other times we need to roll a twenty on a twenty-sided die. When we are faced with a situation similar to one encountered in the past, we use our Hindsight Bias to judge what we should do or should not do, but then wonder what went wrong when things did not occur as planned. It is because nothing is ever a given, no matter what it is that we do. Sure, there are ways of making it almost impossible to succeed, or inconceivable to fail, but chance may still stick its mischievious hand in to meddle with our affairs in life.

When we take up one of those dreaded geometric designs into the palm of our hand, we commit ourself to the outcome of the roll. We release it from our hand, watching, waiting, mesmerized by the moving figure as it bounces about the surface it was rolled upon. Then comes that seemingly-eternal moment of hope and dispair as it blunders about, teetering and tottering to and fro, passing over the good outcomes and the bad ones countless times before halting on the final decision. When it lands good, we praise our luck and are willing to commit ourselves again to its mighty power. Should failure arise from it, we sputter obscene remarks, bitter and full of remorse, hesitant to give in to chance, fear making cowards of us all.

Though there may be times in your life when you think nothing can turn to disaster, or noting can ever be a success, think twice. There is always that chance, no matter how big or small it may be, that the dice will not roll the way you expect them to, and it can turnabout the tide in the blink of an eye. Don't ever let things get you down, and never let an ego carry you away, for at any moment your next decision could be the one that rolls up a different number.