High atop the lightning-tossed skyscraper, in its uppermost chamber, sits the wizard Xygax.
The self-proclaimed "Dungeon Master" impassively watches the adventurers' grim fate on a series of crystal screens that surround him.
The last of the party, the woman ranger, is victorious. Then, gruesomely, she transforms into a living green mire.
Xygax looks down. Arrayed before the sorcerer-historian are a series of ancient illuminated manuscripts, timeless memory tapes, arcane ephemera, esoteric trivia and sundry from the long lost epoch of 'Earth That Was.'
Lurid garish depictions of sorcerers, automatons, monsters, masked men and other mysterious subjects grace their age-worn covers. One such antique curio is an amusement entitled "Dungeons and Dragons."
It purports to be an "adventure module" whose substantial contents hold many empty spaces for its owner to fill in. These have been carefully completed by Xygax. "5 Daleks" reads one hand-written entry. "9 Klingons" reads another.
The wizard looks back at the slime-filled egg chamber. He switches on a microphone and speaks.
"Game over. Another TPK. I knew that wandering monster chart was going to be trouble.
"Okay. Reset the rooms. Get everything ready again. The next group of playtesters will be here soon."
The End?