The Scene is GENCON, Ryan Dancey wanders the hall, trying to get some idea of who is attending the convention and if there's anyone he should be talking to/suing.
He sees a gamer walking along...
>DANCEY: Old woman!
>DENNIS: Man!
>DANCEY: Man, sorry. Whose stall is that over yonder??
>DENNIS: I'm thirty seven.
>DANCEY: What?
>DENNIS: I'm thirty seven - I'm not old!
>DANCEY: Well, I can't just call you 'Man'.
>DENNIS: Well, you could say 'Dennis'.
>DANCEY: Well, I didn't know you were called 'Dennis.'
>DENNIS: Well, you didn't bother to find out, did you?
>DANCEY: I did say sorry about the 'old woman,' but from the behind you looked -
>DENNIS: What I object to is you automatically treat me like an inferior!
>DANCEY: Well, I AM king...
>DENNIS: Oh king, eh, very nice. An' how'd you get that, eh? By exploitin' the gaming public - by 'angin' on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic an' social differences in our society! If there's ever going to be any progress -
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: Dennis, there's some copies of FATAL on sale over there. Oh - how d'you do?
>DANCEY: How do you do, good lady. I am RYAN, King of the gamers. Who's booth is that?
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: King of the who?
>DANCEY: The gamers.
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: Who are the gamers?
>DANCEY: Well, we all are. We're all gamers, and I am your king.
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: I didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.
>DENNIS: You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship. A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the outdated concept of character classes...
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: Oh there you go, bringing class into it again.
>DENNIS: That's what it's all about if only people would -
>DANCEY: Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who's booth is that?
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: That booth isn't anyone's
>DANCEY: then who is your lord? who tells you which games to buy?
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: We don't have a lord.
>DANCEY: What?
>DENNIS: I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of purchasing officer for the week.
>DANCEY: Yes.
>DENNIS: But all the decision of that officer have to be ratified at a special biweekly meeting.
>DANCEY: Yes, I see.
>DENNIS: By a simple majority in the case of supplements for games we own,
>DANCEY: Be quiet!
>DENNIS: - but by a two-thirds majority in the case new games -
>DANCEY: Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: Order, eh - who does he think he is?
>DANCEY: I am your king!
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: Well, I didn't vote for you.
>DANCEY: You don't vote for kings.
>DENNIS's GIRLFRIEND: Well, 'ow did you become king then?
>DANCEY: The board members of Wizards Of The Coast, [angels sing], clad in the purest shimmering Armani, held aloft the keys to my company Porsche signifying by Divine Providence that I, Ryan, was to drive the Porsche. [singing stops] That is why I am your king!
>DENNIS: Listen - sinister members of corporations distributing sports cars is no basis for a claim of leadership of the gaming community. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical corporate ceremony.
>DANCEY: Be quiet!
>DENNIS: Well you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some suits threw a set of keys at you at you!
>DANCEY: Shut up!
>DENNIS: I mean, if I went around sayin' I was an empereror of GURPS just because Steve Jackson gave me the keys to his pimpmobile... they'd put me away!
>DANCEY: Shut up! Will you shut up! (Ryan snaps his fingers calling forth his lawyers to deal with Dennis)
>DENNIS: Ah, now we see the source of the violence inherent in your system.
>DANCEY: Shut up!
>DENNIS: Oh! Come and see the litigiousness inherent in D20! HELP! HELP! I'm being repressed!
>DANCEY: Bloody peasant!
>DENNIS: Oh, what a give away. Did you hear that, did you here that, eh? That's what I'm on about - did you see him repressing me, you saw it didn't you?