Hossenfeffer

Wipe mine on a baby rabbit. So soft.

Guess the US will be bombing Iran's vest factories next.

Spring is sprung, the grass is riz
I wonder where the birdies is
They say the birdies on the wing, but that’s absurd
I always thought the wing was on the bird

Ah, but we neeeeeeeed oil, so we'd best start increasing the amount we pump from the North Sea to make sure we have enough without needing to rely on bally old Vladamir.

1992 called. They want their pixels back.

We are still special!

Surely all it says is that regardless of our hopes, plans, and intentions sometimes shit hits our fan and we have no control over it?

Also Colin Furze who dug a bunker under his backyard and now a car elevator under his drive way

A secret bunker, no less. A big part of the initial project was to see if he could build a secret tunnel from his house to his shed without his neighbour being aware of it. I think by the time he was on to the car elevator he'd given up on that element of it though.

Just be aware, there is a lot of lore. Over fifty years worth of lore. But you don't need to know all of it, in the same way that if you were running a modern day game set in Michigan you wouldn't need to know the history of South Korea or the mythology of Equatorial Guinea. Or even all the history of Michigan!

If you do decide to go forward with RQG, let me also recommend Six Seasons In Sartar available from DriveThruRPG. It starts player characters off in a small valley in the Dragon Pass area, just before their initiation into a cult. They're all from the same tribe, so they know and (hopefully) trust each other, and it expands from very small, cozy beginnings, through another two volumes, into active participation in world-changing events.

I played a game where PCs had a fate stat. A high fate wouldn't protect your character from dying in a gutter but, if they did, it would become significant.

When I was in the US with another Brit buddy we went out for a curry (Gaylord Chicago IIRC) and each ordered a vindaloo. The head waiter was dispatched to our table to warn us this might be too spicy. When we told him we were British he nodded, smiled, and said "I understand, I'll let the kitchen know."

It was still a bit on the mild side for a BIR vindaloo.