The last game. (maybe)

I think I'm done. I have done well. Me earlier games were better than my resent ones, but I don't think I can make games anymore.

By brothers played my games, my later ones, and claimed to enjoy them. But I remember when I could see the worlds that I made in front of me, I remember when the the worlds in my head were more real to me than the one in front of me was to me. I have time for them, but my will is waning. Whether it will ever return again, I know not.

My worlds have begun to bland, I half suspected it, maybe I felt it; but now I know it. They know it, and They have felt it too. Whether it will ever return again, I know not.

My brothers were playing again to night. They had just slain a cave elf in battle, and discovered the underground realm of the N'Diki, spider-people that walk on four legs, spit webs and have a bad temper; when it became evident to me that they were bored. I had tried to make it interesting for them, but I had failed again. I suppose I might let this game-mastering hobby go, it would save Matt and josh a few crushed knuckles. I don't know, I'll have to pray about it.