When I was a kid, I spent most afternoons,

riding a flying ostrich around, trying to knock other people off their flying ostriches with my lance.

While occasionally stopping to pick up eggs, and of course, there was a

pterodacta occasionally show up an attempt to crash me out of the sky.

He could try, but I had that taradacal's number.

Still, it was dangerous.

Dangerous work not for the faint-hearted, And I was good. Very, very good.

A champion of the realm good. No one could beat me. No one could take me. Not for the high score anyway,

but every once in a while. Some clown did manage to briefly unseat me from my flying ostrich resulting in my temporary

absence from the action for a brief moment in time I was no more kind of backstage being less less, body less.

And I always love this part.

Because then a brand new me generated itself on another part of the playing field.

No scars, no hurts, no pains, my trusty Steed and I would leap back into the air, rejoined the fray, find the maggot who knocked us out of the sky and extract sweet revenge.

I loved playing joust. I loved it.

My favorite video game by far and I always wondered what it would be like if there really was a backstage.

A place where you'd come back from a reset and realize.

Well, today on Snap Judgment, we're going to find out if such a thing exists.

From the Snap Judgment's underground layer, we probably present.

We Spar.

Amazing stories from real people who start over again.

My name is Slim Washington.

You can beat the unbeatable flying terradacto

...