So many ways to die. I've fallen victim of my own spikes on too many occasions to count. My husband has nudged himself to close to the edge and fallen right into the horde more than once or twice. One of my favourite memories was when he had died on blood moon night and decided that he really wanted his backpack, but things didn't go according to plan. I was still safe and currently unoccupied up on the wall, so I looked up just in time to see him go hareing past me with all the horde in hot pursuit like an epic Tom & Jerry cartoon. I almost fell off the wall I was laughing so hard. When we first discovered explosives (they're so much fun aren't they?), we decided to do some testing to find out what kind of AOE they had and to see what hurt the world and what didn't. I agreed to be the TNT and dynamite tester (Muppet that I am). We laughed with much glee at the big boom from detonating the TNT. So after chuckling over the "the throwing part is very important" description in the dynamite, I lit the fuse, carefully aimed at where I wanted to chuck the dynamite and held down the throwing trigger. I saw the green bar filling up and thinking that this was the throwing strength I decided to let it get to full so I would throw it a long way away. Apparently the green bar is the fuse timer! I made a lovely big crater with my backpack right at the bottom.