It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Vex Vex'ahlia, a half-elf ranger . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, Deciding there is no time like the present, you sets off for the Sun Tree. She spends the rest of the day sitting at its base and meditating, hoping for a vision, though none arrives.
DM: "Yeah! I'll wait by the door! Right?" "Sure, whatever, man, go for it. It's fine." And they go back to fixing the inside. They're fixing windowsills. Joe, who seems to be a really sweet guy probably in his mid-to-late 30s, shaved head that's just starting to come in a little bit, square jaw, but it's Slingblade-style hung off to one side a little. But he seems like he's a fair worker and intent on the job that is set before him.
Player: You're doing good work, Joseph!
DM: "Thank you!" And he follows you in as you enter the tunnel and begins to walk in the tunnel with you.
Player: At the door!
DM: "Ah! Right! This isn't a door."
Player: All right. Keep walking.
DM: All right.
Player: As I go, I want to put my hands on the roots and I'm going to say, hey, Sun Tree! I know I can't hear you, but I really need your help right now. And I hope you can hear me. I don't know how to do this, exactly, but I need to talk to Pelor, and there's a lot of people that are looking at me like I know what I'm doing, but I have no freaking clue. So if you could help guide me, that would be great. I sit down and I keep my hands on the roots.
DM: As you concentrate and keep your hands on the roots, time passes, what seems like ten, 20, 30, 60 minutes of silence, occasionally broken by a voice down the hallway going, "You okay?"
Player: Yes!
DM: "All right!" You come back to focusing on the task at hand, and at times you catch yourself. You swear you feel the roots get warmer and then you, conscious of it, and you feel along, and no, it's probably about the same. You may have psyched yourself out, you're not sure. Close your eyes again and you focus. As the boredom instinctively sets in, you have a hard time standing still. You're an individual who likes being bombarded with sensory elements. You're a person who needs to know what's going on around you, you always have been. That sense of self-preservation, paranoia, whatever you want to call it, is being conflicted heavily with the idea of being still, quiet, and focused for a protracted period of time. You're battling that antsiness, you are far too conscious of your physical body and the discomfort you're feeling. I want you to go ahead and make a wisdom saving throw.
Player: God damn it! Ten.
DM: Ten? You can feel the pain begin to rise from sitting for so long. Your pelvic bone, from being in that position for a long period of time, is beginning to grow more and more sore. You begin to shift in place and as you do, it doesn't help. So you shift again, that doesn't help. And every single position you try and shift, it seems to throb in pain from being stationary for so long in a position that you're not used to. It's distracting to you. Eventually a voice comes through down the hallway that goes, "All right, we're done and we're leaving. You good?"
Player: Great, Joseph. You know what?
DM: "What?"
Player: Thanks! For everything, have a good night.
DM: "You too!"
Player: Okay!
DM: "You okay in there?"
Player: I'm great, you can go. You can go.
DM: "Looks scary."
Player: It's not. But don't come down here, thank you.
DM: "All right. Well, have a good night, miss!"
Player: Okay!
DM: You hear the footsteps grow quieter and quieter and then a (kch) as the hatch that led to the basement that you carved the tunnel from closes.
Player: Is Trinket here with me?
DM: Trinket is in your necklace.
Player: Pop that fucker out.
DM: Very tight space. There's now a big bear and you're like (rrr) on the side.
