There is a special sort of RPG nerd who will, if you admit to him at a party that you have been known to enjoy the odd roll of a 20-sided die yourself, pin you to the wall with the sheer force of his nerdosity and tell you in excruciating detail, step by step, die roll by die roll, about the most recent game he has played in his current campaign. The one I most often think of is the one who buttonholed my friend Clint at a party close to twenty years ago and subsequently proceeded to tell Clint all about one small part of his most recent LotR gaming session, in which he played a dwarf who rushed into battle and was promptly trampled by an oliphaunt. That was it. It took twenty-five minutes for this story to unfold, hit point by hit point, and as a direct result Clint never again admitted that he was a gamer to anyone he didn't already know.
This is pretty much what I feel like after reading Victor Hugo's eighteen chapters about Waterloo in Les Misérables.
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