Somewhere in the sprawling subway system of Dr. Apocalypse, the gang takes on a robot who’s sensitive about the shape of his posterior. Also, the Gamemaster is forced to defend certain ontological inconveniences of role playing games.
Subway surfing, Bad Roll Models style…
A ten-foot robot crashes the team’s slumber party in an underwater missile turret.
Exploring a control center or something, the gang faces off against what may well be their most boring adversary yet.
The crew has a brilliant plan involving a tank of propane, a forklift, and a whole lot of chutzpah.