How long did Ford spend every week on preparing his campaign—devising puzzles, building dangerous encounters, coming up with interesting characters to populate his world? To his embarrassment, it probably counted in the dozens of hours.

Still, it was all worth it, to see the amazement on Dipper's face at the sight of Ford's hand-drawn maps or to hear Mabel's giggles at the silly voices he used for the people they encountered on their journey. Yes, he often spent long hours in the evenings poring over his prepared material, to Stan's great irritation. But in the end, all that effort would be smartly invested, wouldn't it? In return, he had a story full of twists and turns, filled with challenges and secrets.

Well, that was what Ford had planned. In practice, things went a little differently.

The party had been exploring an abandoned manor at the behest of their patron, the chancellor of the realm. They had been tasked with retrieving an ancient artefact before it fell into the hands of their enemy, the followers of the Dark Lord (Stan had rolled his eye at the name). For now, Ford's players had been unlucky in their search.

"You walk from deserted hallway to deserted hallway," Ford narrated, "finding nothing but cobwebs and motes of dust floating in the air. You come upon many doors—some are shut tight, but others are half open, showing musty rooms filled with broken furniture. What do you do?"

Dipper stopped chewing on his pen for a moment. "They probably had someplace they hid their treasure, a secret room or something." As always, he tended to deepen his voice whenever he acted in-character. Ford found it amusing, but of course he never told the boy. "Maybe there's a lever or a switch somewhere…"

"Roll for an investigation check, my boy."

"I got, uh…" Dipper squinted at his dice. "A thirteen…?"

"I'll help him!" said Soos. "Oh, wait, I got a five…"

None of Dipper's fellow players rolled high enough to assist him in his search. Ford shrugged and said, "Despite your efforts, you find nothing in the rooms you search. Almost everything is rotten away, and in some cases, the very floor creaks ominously under your feet, hinting that you should not dwell too long in one place."

"I guess we should move on, then," Dipper said. He inspected his notes, tongue sticking out. He frowned as he looked at the map he'd drawn. "The layout of the place doesn't make any sense. Something's wrong."

"Aw, you worry too much," his sister said. "C'mon, let's see what's at the end of this stupid corridor."

"The six of you make for the door leading out of the hallway," Ford said. "And you find yourselves… in a familiar place. It's the library."

"Wait, what?" Dipper rummaged through his notes. "No, that's not possible. According to my—" His eyebrows shot up. "Oh. Oh, oh, oh! The place's magic. The rooms… they change places!"

Ford hid a smile behind his steepled hands. He hadn't expected any of his players to realize this so soon. Then again, he shouldn't have underestimated Dipper's wits.

"Oh-kay," said Wendy. "So, what do we do?"

Dipper inspected his notes. For a moment, all were silent as he muttered to himself, scribbling things and turning his map to check its every angle. Ford waited, not saying a word.

"I think I got it," Dipper said. "When we turn right, the map makes one turn clockwise. And when we turn left, it turns counterclockwise. So, to go back to the entrance hall, we'd need to…"

It was a testament to the party's trust in him that no one thought to offer another idea, and they followed his directions without question. Eventually, Ford's players found themselves back at the entrance hall.

"Alright," said Dipper. "Now that we're here, we can finally get our bearings back. We can't just stumble around the place, we need a plan…"

"As soon as those words escape your mouth, you hear laughter rippling through the hall," Ford said. "The source of these cackles isn't visible. Why, it seems to be coming from nowhere and everywhere, all at once."

Dipper's eyes widened a little. Meanwhile, Mabel shrugged and said, "That still doesn't rule out my theory that this mansion belongs to a nice big furry monster who just needs some love, y'all."

Ford cleared his throat. This character's voice was going to be murder on his vocal chords, he knew it. "'Welcome, welcome, adventurers,'" he said, in a falsetto. It prompted a snort from Stan, and Mabel gave him a light swat behind the head. "'I have been watching you stumble around my humble abode for many hours, now… it's not often that I have visitors…'"

"Great," said Stan. "Can that guy, like, save us some trouble an' show us his ugly mug? 'Cause we ain't got all day."

"As you noticed before, two great staircases lead to the second floor," Ford explained. "At the junction of these stairs, a figure appears, quite suddenly. From the cut of the rags floating around a skeletal body, you deduce that it is a woman. Her pale skin is stretched tautly against her cheekbones, and a few wispy grey hairs can still be found on her skull. Deep-set eyes bear down on you, and she grins."

"Is she a ghost?" Mabel asked.

"She's not a normal lady, that's for sure," said her brother. "Is that a hag? No, that doesn't make sense, she's on the material plane, she's something else…"

"The woman laughs at your fear," Ford continued. "Then, she says, 'Oh, it's been so long since I've had people to entertain me! You have come to entertain me, yes?'"

Fidds exchanged a look with Mabel. "Well, Ah've got a few tunes that might cheer you up. An' the young miss is quite the singer—"

"'Sing, you say? Sing? As if that would be enough!'" Ford wheezed a little; perhaps he should have chosen another voice for her. "'No, I have something else in mind!'"

"Ugh, she's a pain," said Wendy. "I take out my axe and move—"

"Wait, no!" Dipper cried. "We need to watch out for tr—"

"Too late," said Ford. "With a cackle, the lady snaps her bony fingers, and the floor gives way under your feet. The six of you fall into a hole, and you take... well, six points of damage, it seems."

"Great," said Dipper. "What kind of place is that hole? Can we climb out?"

"It's very dark, and you don't see much of your new surroundings. Something cracks under your feet, and the sound… well, you quite recognize what it is. Chills run down your back as you realize just what you're standing on. You're not the first people she has sent in this pit…"

Mabel rolled her eyes. "No wonder she's so bored! Maybe she should stop killing the people who visit her, you know?"

"Above your heads," Ford continued, "you hear her laughter once more. 'Oh, dearie, they only had to be more, well, entertaining. Let's have some fun, shall we? I've always been partial to games of riddles, myself.'"

Fidds looked lost in thought for a moment. "A game of riddles? Didja take that from the Lord of the Rings, Fordsie?"

"No," answered Dipper, "it's from the Hobbit, remember? When Bilbo meets—"

Ford cleared his throat again, feeling a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Anyway, she says, more insistently, 'Three riddles in exchange for your lives! For each, you have ten seconds to answer! Entertain me, or suffer the consequences!'"

"Awright," said Stan, "shoot. This is gettin' old."

"Here is her first one," Ford said. "'I am the beginning of everything, the end of everywhere. I'm the beginning of eternity, the end of time and space. What am I?'"

"The letter 'e'?" Dipper said, without skipping a beat.

Ford blinked. He hadn't expected a response so fast. "Um. Correct. I mean, 'Correct, dearie!'"

"Ugh," said Wendy. "You sound like a psycho grandma. That's not a voice I ever wanted to hear out of an old man's mouth. Ever."

Ford nearly glared at her. She didn't know just how much effort went into those voices, did she? That ungrateful child. "Well, here's another. 'I am always hungry and will die if not fed, but whatever I touch will soon turn red. What am I?'"

"Fire?" Again, Dipper's reply was immediate. He was giving Ford a bit of an unsure look, almost like he was feeling a bit insecure with his answer. "Is it?"

Ford opened his mouth, then closed it as quickly as he could. "Yes, yes, that's what it is."

"Nice going, buddy," Stan said, giving Dipper a playful punch on the shoulder. "Good thing at least one of us is smart, huh?"

Ford felt like he should have been infuriated on the others' behalf. Still, he was certainly impressed with his nephew's quick wit. "Alright. You sense a bit of irritation in her voice when she speaks again. 'Well, now. Here is my last one. What does man love more than life, hate more than death or mortal strife; that which contented men desire; the poor have, the rich require; the miser spends, the spendthrift saves, and all men carry to their graves?"

"Nothing," said Dipper. "A-At least, that's what I would say."

Ford tried to keep his face blank. He'd expected them to fail at least one of the riddles. He'd almost counted on it, in fact. How else would they trigger the boss fight he had prepared? Instead, he forced himself to smile. "'Three out of three!' the lady says. 'What an impressive and vigorous young mind you have!'"

"Well, duh, that's my brother you're talking about," Mabel said. "Big brain central, that's him. That's why his head is so big. He needs enough space to contain all that grey matter!"

Dipper protested, which prompted his sister to poke him repeatedly while blowing raspberries. Ford glanced at his brother, who shrugged, not even hiding his amusement.

Dipper lightly slapped his sister's hand away. "Anyway," he said. "We solved your three riddles, my, um, my lady."

"Good… I mean," Ford cleared his throat. "'Good, dear travellers, good!' And you find yourselves lifted out of the hole."

"Finally," said Stan. "So, since we played her dumb game, will she let us go? We've got treasure to find, y'know."

"Yes," Dipper added. "Do we… do we have your leave, my lady?"

"At your words, she loses herself in cackles," Ford said. "'Oh, you think that, do you?' she says. And then… something changes. There is a shimmer around her, a sort of haze that distorts her figure. When it is gone, you realize her whole appearance is different. The creature hovering above you is taller, imposing in dark, flowing robes. Their bald head is viscous, and they have long, clawed fingers. But their most striking features are the four tentacles writhing in front of their mouth. A terrible laugh echoes in your minds as you take in your foe's true form…"

"A mind flayer!" said Dipper. Then, he coughed and repeated, deepening his voice. "I mean, a mind flayer!"

"Wait, the monster turned into another kind of monster…" Mabel's brow furrowed. "Because… why, actually, Grunkle Ford?"

"Who cares what it is?" Wendy said. "We gotta fight that jerk even though we totally owned them at their stupid riddle game? What a pain."

"Eh," said Stan. "Whatever. Let's get this over it."

Ford bristled; they just didn't understand just how much work went into building these encounters. He couldn't just throw a good battle away, could he? "Well, let's see how you fare. Roll for initiative, everyone."

One gruesome battle later, the party escaped the mansion by the skin of their teeth, important artefact looted from the Mindflayer's corpse. The object in question turned out to be a yellow gemstone encrusted into a bracelet. After convincing Stan that they stood to gain more by bringing the jewel back to their patron, the party set out for the capital to get payment for accomplishing their task.

"'Thank you for your speed and discretion', the chancellor says to you," Ford told his players, after they managed to get an audience with him in the throne room. "'Though I am grieved to see you in such sorry states,' he adds."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Stan said. "There was some ugly, slimy octopus jerk in that mansion. Was a right pain in the—rear, I tell ya."

"I nearly died!" Soos said, a bit too cheerfully. "Again!"

Ford sent him a concerned glance; Soos' dice rolls tended to be terrible, almost supernaturally so. The poor child seemed to be struck with a rather horrible case of bad luck. "'Well,'" Ford continued in the character's deep, smooth voice, "'at least you took the artefact away from this creature. Now, we can keep it from falling into dangerous hands.'"

"From the hands of those Dark Lord followers, you mean?" said Dipper.

Again, Stan and Wendy snickered. Ford glared at them from over his steepled hands.

"'Yes,' says the chancellor. 'They're the biggest threat to the security of the kingdom. We must gather the six Gems of Powers before they do, for the sake of our people.'"

"Six Gems of Power?" Soos said. "Oh, like the Infinity Stones!"

"The what now?" Ford said, a bit bluntly. Did his players think he was stealing plot points from other stories? How preposterous!

"It's not important," Dipper said, with a nervous little chuckle. "Please do go on, sir."

"'Why, yes.'" Ford cleared his throat. "'The six Gems of Power. Capable of rewriting reality, altering time and space—'"

"So really like the Infinity Stones, then—'"

"Soos, zip it," said Wendy. "Or you'll make him put on his pouty face again."

"My—what?"

"Yes!" Mabel said. "You blow your cheeks a little when you're mad, Grunkle Ford, it's so funny! You look like an angry owl who's puffing his feathers!"

Fidds and Stan laughed raucously, while Wendy snorted in amusement. Ford put on his fiercest glare; they laughed even harder.

"C'mon, guys, focus," Dipper said. "We're getting off track!"

"Thank you, my boy. At least one of you has his head screwed on straight." Ford exhaled through his nose, putting on a calm façade as he slipped in-character again. "'So, what was I saying? Oh, yes, the quest for the gems. Now that you've proved yourself trustworthy and capable, I must ask another favour of you.'"

"Oh, wow," Stan said. "Why am I not surprised?"

"'We must gather the five remaining gems,'" Ford continued, ignoring his brother's rude interruption. "'Bring them back to me, and I will hide them in a secure place, where they will not tempt people to do evil.'"

"Doesn't the king want to use them to fight against the Dark Lord?" Dipper asked. "They're dangerous, I get it, but if we want to stop the war, then…"

"'The king doesn't know about the gems,' the chancellor answers you. 'It is as you said, they are simply… too dangerous.'"

Dipper frowned. "Wait… he still should know about them, at least." Then, his eyes widened. "Oh my god… our boss's a bad guy, isn't he? He's trying to gather the gems for nefarious purposes, right?"

Ford stared at his nephew. Four sessions. Four. It had been all Dipper had needed to uncover a plot twist Ford had planned for the end of the campaign.

"Our boss can't be evil, dude," said Soos. "Bosses aren't evil. That's not a thing."

Ford glanced at Stan. "What lies have you been feeding this poor child?" he muttered to his brother. Stan only shrugged.

"It doesn't matter," Dipper said, scratching at his head. "I'm right, aren't I? He's a bad guy, and he's been taking advantage of us this whole time! We can't give him the gem!"

He looked at Ford with an earnest and, yes, proud expression. Ford's smile, however, was so forced it almost hurt. Hours and hours of preparation… would it go down the drain because he was slower on the uptake than his thirteen-year-old nephew?

Ford blinked stupidly, mind suddenly blank. He'd intended that the chancellor would be a high-ranking archmagus, since he would be one of the party's final opponents. His players were nowhere high-levelled enough to survive such a fight.

Dipper, in all of his enthusiasm, had just completely derailed the story Ford had spent hours building.

"I, uh," Ford said. "I need to check on something in my room. Be right back." And he left his seat, heading out of the living room.

Ford and Stan's shared room was messy, as always (it drew the eternal ire of Soos' grandmother, and she tended to act passive-aggressive around the brothers as a result). Ford searched the pile of documents sprawled on his desk, trying to find the journal he used to jot down stray ideas for his campaign. Perhaps he could find something in there to get him out of the tight spot he found himself in…

"Great Uncle Ford?" a voice came from the doorway. Dipper was standing there, eyebrows knitted in a frown. "You okay?"

Ford put down his notebook, giving his nephew a quizzical look. "Of course I am. Why would you think I'm not alright?"

"Oh, um…" Dipper scratched the back of his head. "It's just… I mean…"

Ford sat on the couch he used to sleep, patting the spot next to him. Dipper seated himself beside him, not meeting Ford's eyes for some reason.

"Did I ever tell you about the one time I acted as a DM?" the boy blurted out.

"The one time?" Ford said. "What happened?"

Dipper made a face. "Well, it was in my first year in middle school. These other kids had a tabletop gaming club, and, uh, I decided to join, I guess. Everything went well at first, and then… well, I wanted to try my hand at being a DM, you know?"

"Go on," Ford prompted.

"It was a disaster," Dipper said, shaking his head. "There was this new player, he was a friend of one of the guys… and he was such a pain. Always did what he wanted, never cared about the rest of the party." He sighed. "Not long into the game, my players found a magical painting. I tried really hard to make them understand it would help them in their quest and everything, but the guy… he just laughed and blasted it with a spell. 'Cause he could, I guess."

Ford drew his mouth into a grim line. For a moment, he entertained the notion of locating that little brat to, well, give him a piece of his mind, so to speak. Stan would probably have used a different expression, but Ford preferred to stay classy.

"So I just blew up at him," Dipper continued. "He told me I needed to stop railroading everyone, and it just… well, I'd put so much work into preparing that campaign. I guess the others thought I sounded nuts, they just kicked me out of the club." His grimace deepened. "And, uh, that's the story of how I lost all the friends I had in school, I guess?"

"Oh," said Ford. He'd been under the impression that the boy was doing well back in Piedmont. "I thought, considering how you get along with everyone here, then…"

"Nah, I'm not that good at making friends," Dipper cut him off, in a sheepish tone. "Mom says I just need to be a bit more confident, but…"

Ford snorted. His own mother always said that he would have made more friends if he'd put in more effort, which was a lot of hogwash, in hindsight. As a penniless Jewish nerd with freak mutant hands, of course he hadn't been exactly popular back in school. Ford was suddenly grateful that he'd been born a twin.

"She's not wrong on that front," Ford said. "You can make friends, Mason, I've seen it with my own eyes. As I said, what about everyone you've befriended in Gravity Falls? What about me? Am I too old to be considered your friend? Or does family not count?"

Dipper laughed a little. "I know, I know! But still…"

"I think sometimes it's just a matter of being in the right place at the right moment," Ford added. "My college experience wasn't exactly… pleasant, but if I'd gone to another university, then I wouldn't have met Fiddleford. You see what I mean?"

"Y-Yeah," Dipper said. "Maybe… maybe I could start my own club…"

"Why not?" As soon as the words left Ford's mouth, he was seized with a strange feeling. It was hard to reconcile the man he'd been last summer—the man who had encouraged a twelve-year-old to trust no one, not even his own family—with the person he was today. What a difference those last few months had made…

From the startled look on Dipper's face, the boy had been struck with the same realization. "Yeah, why not? Who knows, there might be more fans of tabletop games at my school, right? Maybe even some people who are into paranormal stuff."

"You won't know until you ask," said Ford. Again, he blinked, surprised by the platitudes he was spewing. Ford snorted, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "Whatever you choose to do, just know that I'm with you 110%."

Dipper's smile was a bit funny. "Since when do you sound so reasonable?"

"Since I've been stuck babysitting your uncle, I guess. One of us has to be the mature one, after all."

Dipper snorted. "Yeah, right."

Ford gave him a mock glare, and the boy chuckled in response.

"Thanks for listening, Grunkle Ford," Dipper said, eventually. "I only told that story to Mabel before. She reacted… well, you know her. You can imagine."

"Oh?" Ford raised a brow.

Dipper smirked. "Yeah. She kinda made his life hell after that. Guy had a couple of glitter bombs exploding in his locker, among other things."

Ford laughed. After a while, Dipper's smile grew a bit sheepish.

"So, I guess you want to know why I told you all that, huh?" he asked Ford. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry if I messed up your game or something."

"Mess up…" Ford's eyebrows shot up. "You, mess up my game?"

"Y-Yeah. I mean, I get it that you're annoyed. You must have worked so hard to prepare everything…"

And with those words the last bits of Ford's annoyance melted away. "Oh, no. No, my boy, I'm not angry at you." He thought about his nephew's words for a while. "You thought I was annoyed because… you're doing well?"

"Well, I just wanted to say that I get it," Dipper clarified. "Being DM is hard."

Ford ruffled the boy's hair. "I knew what I was getting into when I first started the game. And if there is one thing I've learned since meeting you and your sister, it's that I'll always have something to learn. And that's fine."

Dipper mumbled something in response.

"What's that?" Ford asked him.

"It's just weird, hearing you say that. Realizing you can be unsure about something… just like me. In real life, I always try to plan for every bad thing that might happen. That way, I can be prepared, you know? Except it always goes off the rails anyway." Again, he muttered something else Ford did not catch.

"What was that?"

Dipper removed his hat, scratching at his scalp. "You don't get it, Great Uncle Ford. I'm the only one standing between these guys and a total TPK! Between our party and total annihilation!"

"Calm down, my boy. Don't you trust in your sister and the others?"

Dipper raised a brow. "Yeah, right. Remember what happened this afternoon?"

Ford winced. They had found Mabel and Stan sitting in the living room and drinking soda through their noses, locked in an insane contest with no rhyme or reason. Soos and Wendy had been banging on the table to cheer them on.

"So, you were saying?" Dipper said dryly.

"Ah," said Ford. "Fair point well made. But my argument still stands. It's a game, my boy. You don't have to take it so seriously."

"Yeah, I know," the boy said. "It's just the usual insecurities talking. And I guess there's a life lesson in there, isn't it? You might try to prepare for everything, but life's life. It won't always go the way you want it to go."

Ford nodded. "Especially if you deal with particularly potent elements of chaos."

"You can say that again," Dipper said, smirking. "Shouldn't we get back to the game? Said elements of chaos must be getting tired of waiting."

"Lead the way, Mason," Ford said, getting up and motioning to the door. His conversation with his nephew had cleared his mind, somehow, and dozens of new ideas buzzed around in his brain.

In the end, the party attacked the duplicitous chancellor, only for him to make a dastardly escape with the yellow gemstone. The commotion brought the attention of several royal guardsmen, who then brought the party before the king for an audience. Dipper's character was all too happy to expose the truth of the matter in minute details.

"'Then,'" Ford had said, in the deepest, most regal voice he could muster, "'you must gather these gems before the agents of the Dark Lord can find them. Go, brave adventurers, and know that you act with the blessing of the king!'"

Ford then met Dipper's eyes from across the table. The boy gave him two thumbs' up. Ford could not hide a smile; he suddenly felt very privileged to have the counsel and trust of this bright, creative young soul.


The following week, Ford took his nephew aside before the game began.

"What it is, Great Uncle Ford?" Dipper asked, glancing at the living room, where his fellow players were already assembled around the table. "Did you have something to tell me?"

"Ah, well," Ford said. "I only wanted to give you something." He handed a piece of paper over to his nephew. "I tried to follow your instructions as much as I could. Is it to your liking?"

Dipper's eyes widened at the sight of the drawing. "Wait, is that… my wizard?"

"Yes. You seemed to like it when I drew the different monsters and people you meet along your journey."

Dipper opened and closed his mouth in short succession. "It's… it's perfect. You included everything, all the dumb little details… the notch on his hat, that scar on his chin, his dragonskin pouch..."

"Of course I did. You've described your character quite well."

"Grunkle Ford, you don't get it! That… that looks like it was made by a professional! People would pay money for that kind of stuff!"

Ford frowned. He was still at a loss as to why the boy was reacting in such an exaggerated manner. "I'm… glad you enjoy it?"

"Can… can I post it online? I'll credit you, of course, it's just… I follow a few groups about tabletop games, and all the guys there would be so jealous."

"Why would I have any problem with that?" Ford said, still a bit bemused.

Dipper grinned from ear to ear. He threw furtive glances around, as if to make sure no one was watching, then reached to hug Ford.

"Thanks, Grunkle Ford!" the boy said, voice slightly muffled. "You're the best!"

Ford patted his hat-covered head with a chuckle. "Anytime, my boy. Anytime."