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Plus 2 million inspiration to anyone who roleplays as KaijuBooska |
Some people might tell you that RolePlaying is a mere hobby, which allows players to use their imagination and resourcefulness to solve problems and practice their acting in a fun social setting. But is it true? Or is there something more sinister at play- a TimeSuck of epic proportions that drains away the real life of the players? Decide for yourself.
A confessed roleplayer speaks out (facetiously, mind you):
Back when we were all FreshMen, BretHutchinson started running a DungeonsAndDragons campaign. It was called The Night Below, and, well, it was kind of addictive. I kept telling myself that I could quit any time, but the truth was that I just didn't want to. Ever since then, I've been playing in and running games of my own- DungeonsAndDragons, CallOfCthulhu?, VampireTheMasquerade (TT, LARP, and PBEM), Paranoia, Changeling, VampireTheDarkAges?, home-brewed IL... it just goes on and on. I can't give up the habit. Both the StinkingDogInn and YouHaveToBeNaked started as DungeonsAndDragons references. At least I don't play StarCraft anymore. Some of my friends got into EverQuest?, but I'm staying far away from that shit...
And another perspective on role playing:
I have to admit that I've been playing my character a bit too close to the hilt; I'm not used to dramatic differences in personality, and so playing myself in fantastic circumstances becomes an engaging pastime in and of itself. In this way, RolePlaying becomes a mirror, where you can look at your character's motivations and actions . . . and see yourself. Several times my character has done something, and I've thought "Why did he do that? Oh, he did that because he thought <X>. Oh, REALLY NOW? Interesting . . ." When you look at a mirror, you see parts of yourself that are normally hidden behind your eyes. It is the blessing--and the curse--of mirrored characters.
A response to previous perspective:
I know I've been doing pretty much anything that seems like a good idea for a few brief moments, before common sense kicks in. It's kind of interesting... at the very least, I can see why thinking these things through can be so important. For the most part, anyways. It is pretty fun, I have to admit. And if I was getting magic items and treasure for obeying my blind impulses in real life, you can bet I'd be ((...very rich. -StephGrush.)) acting much more strangely than I do right now.
Wait... is that even possible?
... So, can I have that hug now?
DungeonMaster: "Ok, you can all start with 1 magic item"
Player 1: "I want a RingofTelecommunication?!"
DM: (Hesitantly) "ok..."
Player 1: "Hello, operator, can you put me in touch with..."
Player 1 as RingofTelecommunications?: "Please insert 1 gold coin."
Player 1: "Where the hell do you insert a gold coin on a ring"
DM: "I don't care if you're a troll. If you pick up the frozen electric eels from the moat, you're gonna get a shock."
Don't piss off the DM example #241:
DM: "Hey, how many hit points does your character have again?"
Player (with a character with Constitution of 22): "Uh... 158."
DM: "Well, a ballista from one of the other ships just hit you in the chest, knocking you across the deck and crashing you into the railing. That's 60 points of damage."
One of the more memorable SigQuotes? from EastDormSchmack:
"I am the infamous gnome, Roder Kartoffelknoedel of the Potato Hills!"
In the bowels of the fortress of the evil and corrupt Baron Radstein...
Roder makes an attempt at Radstein's life, running towards the baron, his dagger unsheathed. The d20 rolls... five.
Roder stumbles over his own clumsy bipedal self, falling flat on his face at the feet of the baron.
Hmm. The baron is within reach. "I shall cast... Shocking Grasp!!!"
Roder's gnarled fingers reach out towards the baron's shins, and the d20 rolls... A two? F*** this. F***, I say.
The baron expertly leaps out of the reach of the bedazzled gnome as Roder lies on the cold stone floor, cursing. Roder then looks up, seeing that his ally, the great minotaur warrior Hey You, beats Baron Radstein to a bloody pulp before mercilessly beheading him.
"Screw you. I haven't gotten to hurt so much as a fly this entire campaign. Screw you all!"
What do you mean, "I'm standing on a big, red 'X'?" Oh, GM! I've got half a pizza here, and you can have it if you kill a PC before the end of this game.
1st Encounter
DM: Ok, as you step off the stairs, a large reptilian creature attacks you.
Elf: Someone want to hold it off so I can cast a spell. (starts casting Magic Missile)
4 thieves: (all look at elf, run)
Elf: F***
Scenario - A thief has just gotten laid by a Tavern Wench
DM: you wake up in the morning. Your stomach hurts and your purse is gone, as is the wench. Maybe you should have someone look at your stomach.
Thief: (uncertain) ok... I go find an apothecary
DM: You have fatal stomach cramps. It'll cost 300gp to heal them (this was before even the first adventure).
Thief: Guys? Guys? Help?
Others: (laughing)
Dumbest skill ever: Gift Wrapping (under Dexterity attribute)
Dumbest action to accompany it: Having to spend a force point to sew up an Emperor beanie baby. doh!
More StarWars RPG:
Just started a campaign. One of the characters owns a ship, so we're all flying somewhere on it (I forget where or why). Something like the following exchange occurs between the GM and one of the players:
"You see another spaceship approaching. It looks hostile." "I open the door and throw my thermal detonator at it." "Okay. You all get sucked out into space and die of explosive decompression. The end."
Obviously, the people writing the rules forgot to mention that in StarWars, there is no such thing as explosive decompression and humans can breathe perfectly well in space (and any number of other hostile environments), with the only exception being ship-eating space worms. Either that, or the GM has started introducing realism (ick!) into StarWars and probably needs to consider another game.
Chaos Mage: My character is getting annoyed at the Bard. I cast Nahal's Reckless Dweomer (spell that essentially does a random magical effect, with the possibility of enhancing the spell you're trying to get from it) on her.
DM: Okaaay... what spell are you trying for?
Chaos Mage: I cast Nahal's for Nahal's for Nahal's. Indefinite recursion.
DM rolls some dice. DM gets really shocked look on his face, then starts grinning.
DM: "Minimum duration, 1 turn. For the next 10 rounds, I'm going to roll random Nahal's effects."
Players sit up in shock.
Bard: I'm running. As fast as I can. Far away.
DM rolls more dice.
DM: Okay, Bard, you turn blue. Chaos Mage, you turn yellow. Bard, you sprout leaves. Bard, you glow in shadows. Chaos Mage, you wake up naked every morning with your clothes neatly folded beside you. Bard, you attribute one of your scars to a fight with a dragon. Oooo. Um, no visible effect. No visible effect. Bard, next meal you make turns to gold. Sixty zombies appear.
Players look at the Chaos Mage nervously. The Chaos Mage is laughing his head off.
[This was my finest moment. Until I got the entire party killed over my corpse, that is.]
Same Campaign, Same Chaos Mage, Same Bard
Chaos Mage: Aim the wand of wonder at the bard. I say the command word. DM: The stairway is filled in darkness. Bard: I attempt to throw the flying capet on the chaos mage. DM: (To Chaos Mage) You feel something cover you. Chaos Mage: I bend over to attempt to get it off me. Bard: I try to jump kick the Chaos Mage. DM: Roll to attack. Bard: (Groan) I got a 1! DM: (Groan) You get tangled in something and roll down the stairs. Take 6 dmg. Bard: But I've got tumbling! DM: It's dark . . . You're trapped in a carpet . . . You take 6 dmg. Chaos Mage: (laughing) I cautiously proceed down the stairs. DM:You run into someone. Chaos Mage: I go for the deck (of many things, which the bard is carrying) DM: Alice, you feel groped. Bard: I kick. DM: (to Chaos Mage) You are kicked. Chaos Mage: I flail at the bard. DM: Roll to attack. Chaos Mage: 5. Bard: Wait, isn't he still wielding the wand. DM: Doh! Yes. The wand breaks on the wall. How many charges did it have left?!
The end result -- no more Wand of Wonder. No more Carpet of Flying. The wall against which the wand was broken is turned invisible, enlarged, and has plants grow from it. A gust of wind blows the players out of the stairway, so they aren't killed when all of the fireballs go off, igniting the building. What we learned from this: very little.
An unexperienced player entered the same chaos campaign as a fighter not long after the previous events occurred. The party was in an underground cave filled with water. The water suddenly drained out, and the three characters who weren't able to see in the dark (read: all humans) fell down a 300 foot hole with the water. One character luckily had two memorizations of Spider Climb, so he cast it on himself and the cleric, leaving the newbie at the bottom of the well with just his sword and a lantern. After they have been gone a short time, two very large cave creatures approach.
DM: You see two very large sea-like creatures approach you. One looks pretty damaged.
Newbie: Are they happy to see me?
DM: Very. They approach menacingly.
Newbie: Damn....Oh wait, I have Blind Fighting! I turn off the lantern! (looks of shock and laughter from all in the party, both at this action and the term "turn off" being applied to a lantern)
DM: Ooookay. Roll to attack.
Newbie: (Rolls) Yes! Critical hit!
DM: You do massive damage to...(rolls)...the uninjured creature.
Newbie: Damn.
DM: (rolls to attack) How many hit points do you have?
Newbie: About 25.
DM: You die. A lot.
Newbie: Is there any chance that the rest of the party can save me?
DM: They begin feasting on your corpse. I doubt it.
"They" begin feasting on the corpse? What sort of party *is* this??
A party that really wasn't designed to work together. We never actually got to cannibalism, though; the closest we got was when one character ate another character's horse. Apparently, the taste wasn't all that bad.
Still the same campaign; much later.
As the result of a little too much exposure to underground water, the dwarf in the party heads back to the surface, where, on the horse of one of the other party members, there is a large gallon jug.
Player: I sniff the jug.
DM: It smells slightly...alcoholic.
Player: I chug it.
DM: Okay... You believe the following: You are drunk. You are capable of breathing fire. You are younger. All of those effects are actually negated. Umm.. wait. No, they aren't. The firebreathing acts at 50% effectiveness. (etc.) The drunkenness is permanent.
Player: So... I believe myself to be permanently drunk?
DM: That's right.
Player: I think this is what's known as "winning."
[There was a question about whether he permanently believed himself to be drunk, or whether he believed himself to be permanently drunk; but that's the kind of question that comes up when you chug a Beaker of Plentiful Potions that's full of Potions of Delusion.]
Same campaign. The party is close to the end of their epic quest. They just have one room to complete in a dungeon before they pick up the second half of a major artifact, and can conclude the story, saving the world in the process.
They open the door to the room. It smells *really* bad. The mage immediately casts a fireball into the room. The party is standing far enough back that it can avoid the fireball; however, they are all caught in the massive methane explosion that it precipitates. The mage dies. The remainder of the party is pretty seriously wounded. Because of this, and because they're running out of air, they head back to the surface.
Upon reaching the surface, an argument breaks out between the elven fighter, who want to loot the corpse, and the death priest, who both refuses to raise the corpse and insists that it remain unlooted, so he can perform the appropriate funeral rites on it. When the elven fighter persists in attempting to loot the corpse, the death priest casts Hold Person on him, successfully.
He then spends the twenty minutes until the elven fighter wakes up performing the funeral rites, which involve igniting the corpse in the middle of a pentagram sketched on the ground. Unfortunately, the mage happens to be carrying a wand of fire. All of its charges go off, incinerating the entire party, with the exception of the elven fighter, who's still standing paralyzed thirty feet away...
[Darn. I almost caught 'em all. ]
You forgot that the bard got shot by the rifle the mage had...crippling his ankle.
Party wakes up in the middle of the forest as the Elven Bard in the party, with the 'secret' mission only he knows about, starts throwing Fireballs at the 'assassin' attacking the party. The Bard has managed to nail the guy, but has also set fire to at least half the forest, the supply wagon, the horses...
Thief: Wait...since when have there been flaming squirrels running around in circles in this forest?
Mudd's own sequel to Eric and the Gazebo:
ETHAN AND THE PIANO(from the SagaOfClivesdale, DM NickJohnson)
The party is adventuring in a darkened building, led there by traces of a spell (cast presumably by the rival sorcerer they've been hunting). The barbarian cleric, Khaz, has just been turned into a shadow in a stunning display of DM Nick's cruelty.
Mage: I'll cast See Invisible, to look for Khaz! DM: You see a bunch of dark shadows with glowing eyes. Mage: I FREAK!
(at which point, the members of the party with Second Sight, to whom these spirits are commonplace, try to calm him down.)
Druid: We'll explain later. Forget about them. Bard: Don't worry. For my entire life, I've never known them to be dangerous . . . DM: One of them attacks the mage.
At which point things get interesting.
Meanwhile, the magi-phobic archer is investigating another room. He finds a piano (all right, call it a harpsichord for continuity), and calls out to the rest of the party, scattered throughout the house.
Archer: HEY, LOOK WHAT I FOUND! I wonder what happens if I push D below middle C? DM: Suddenly, all the doors in the house slam and lock! Rogue: I pick the lock. DM: What lock?
Er . . .
Mage: And WHY didn't I memorize Knock today? Archer: Don't worry! I'll try another one . . . DM (looks up something from the DMG): No discernable effect. Player (OOC): Hey, you're using the number of the key on the piano on a spell effect table, aren't you?!
The DM smiles.
Archer: I try another key. DM: The entire house fills with fog. Party: Ethan! Stop playing the piano! Archer: High C?
Nick asks the party what they're thinking. They respond.
DM: You hear all of this in your head. Archer: Hey, guys! Khaz thinks he's undead. Mage: This isn't exactly the most useful application of Telepathic Link . . . Archer: Low E? DM (smiling): You see a bunch of dark shadows with glowing eyes. Archer: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA . . .
Several spirit-drained Wisdom points later . . .
Fighter: I'm bashing this door down! Bard: I'm not suggesting this, but I'm probably wondering about the effects of hitting all the keys at once. DM: You know, the telepathic link is still active. Archer: Hey guys! Belman just had this neat idea! Bard: NO, ETHAN! NO NO NO NO NO NO . . .
In retrospect, it's surprising we made it to the cellar alive . . .
Again, from SagaOfClivesdale:
DM: You come out from the trees to find a rock wall climbing almost vertically into the sky. Directly across from you is an artificial opening into the mountain. Between you and the cave is a marshy lake.
Belman: When I see the door, I start to sing [the prophecy that's been given to us].
Ethan: I run for the other side!
Well, that does that in . . .
DM: Ok everyone, something grabs you! Make a grapple check.
WillShipley (OOC): Ah, I see the problem. We should have skirted the lake until we reached the giant Hollin trees flanking the opening . . . that way we would have reached the Doors of Durin unmolested.
a slight pause
DM: AAH! Be quiet, you!
many Tolkien comparisons ensue, until NickJohnson threatens physical death for the next utterance.
Later . . .
DM: You come to a strange door, engraved with gems and an inscription.
Belman: I say, "Mellon!"
at which point the entire party threatens physical death for the utterance.
DM: "100 XP to Nick for almost kicking the unarmed girl's ass."
Same SagaOfClivesdale . . .
Half of the party has been captured, drugged, and tortured by an evil wizard-regent and his henchmen. DanCicio's character, after several hazy days, is finally able to resist the narcotics enough to gain a few minutes of lucidity a day. He checks his boot, and smiles.
The door to his cell opens, and the sorcerer walks in.
DM: "The man in black looks at you and says, 'We have your friends. You might as well tell us what we want to know.'"
Dan: "I shoot him."
Assorted players: "Whaaaat?!"
Dan: "With my gun!"
Assorted players: "WHAAAAAAAAT?!"
DM (rolling): "You proceed to critical and progressively kill him . . . he starts to cast a spell, then you blow his head off."
Cries of "How do you have a gun?", "Where did you get a gun?", "I don't understand," and "How did you sneak that past the guards?" echoed around the table. DanCicio smiled, and said "They didn't check my boot."
Rrrrr . . . one of those mysteries, I suppose.
WillShipley: So, what's red and has more brains than the man in black? The wall behind him.
Same campaign, five minutes later. DanCicio's character is wearing practically every magical item that belonged to the captive PCs, and carrying his staff of Godhood. He sees the guards who are dragging the party back to their respective cells, and charges.
DM: Roll to hit, monkey-boy.
Dan (rolls): Oooh, a critical! (he picks up half the dice on the table and rolls.)
NickJohnson glances at the dice, and grimaces.
DM: "You see a flash of flame, a roll of thunder, and a red mist where the guard used to be."
Dan: "I cleave."
DM: "Make that two guards. The others run. I mean, you only doubled his maximum hit points in damage."
(from EnorethianChronicles):
The party is making their way through what used to be a basilisk lair, when they come across a suspicious looking flagstone. One of the mages, who cleared out the lair with a previous party, notes that the flagstone triggers a hail of arrows. Immediately, the party springs into action; the rogue moves forward to examine and disarm the trap, while the mage pulls out a ten foot pole . . . thinks . . . and pulls out a second ten-foot pole and starts lashing them together.
The barbarian forsaker, Blarg, decides he's had enough of this folderol.
Blarg: "I push past the others and step on the flagstone."
DM: "Really?" (Rolls 10D20). "Ok, one of the arrow launchers jams; eight of the other arrows miss you, one hits for . . . (rolls several D6) one point of damage, after your damage reduction."
Blarg: ". . . Blarg looks at the party as if they were stupid . . . then he jumps up and down on the trap until arrows stop coming out."
Sixty arrows and three--count em, 3 points of damage later, the trap runs dry.
On closer analysis, I'm not entirely sure why I find this funny, but... Are there contextual / intonal clues that we're missing?
GM: (explaining the campaign setting) ...you think Lord Sarcas might have framed your father.
Player whose father was accused of treason: No, *I* think Lord Sarcas framed my father.
GM: Oookay. You think he framed your father. You *might* be wrong.
There was this really stupid kid in my friend's campaign in high school, who kept getting his characters killed (sometimes by direct stupidity, sometimes by pissing off the DM). The absolute *worst* was when he taunted some evil-looking aquatic creatures by the shore of a lake, who attacked. He then proceeded to jump in the lake and tried to swim away.
This would be funnier as a DM-player dialog. Actually, i should say it would be funny... it sort of fails right now...
This was in an intro session to JeremyLennert's FirstRealm? campaign world/system. We all started out with amnesia, and therefore rolled all skills as untrained. Our first encounter was with a corn farmer, who let us stay with him for the night in exchange for some gold.
In the morning, we had a lengthy debate with a farmer over purchasing corn. Basically, we weren't sure how much to buy. Eventually we agreed on a month's rations worth of corn, and left for the mountains. In the mountains, we fought a wolf - our first combat of the game...
SeleneTan: So what should we do with the body? Should we burn or bury it? AlexUtter: We should eat it! SeleneTan (to DM): Er, do any of us know how to skin and prepare a kill for eating? DM: Well, one of you probably does, but I should point out that you don't have any knives with you. SeleneTan: Oh yeah... I guess we'll have to leave it then, since we can't really hack it with our swords. AlexUtter: But it's made of food!
In a Deadlands campaign (Fall 2003) with MattWalsh as GM, CalvinCurtis was playing a Native American shaman. Shamans have to perform various rituals to be able to use their powers, and one of the possible rituals involves smoking Jimson weed.
Calvin: Can I find any Jimson weed around here? GM: Make a Scrounge roll. Calvin: *rolls* I botched. GM: You find........ a banana! And it looks an *awful lot* like Jimson weed to you. Calvin: Score! I smoke it! *rolls* okay, that ritual went off really well... But I botched the Vigor check for the weed. GM: Ooookay... You get a mild hankerin' for (addiction to) bananas. You can pay one White Chip to buy it off. Calvin pays the chip to avoid taking a -2 to all rolls when he can't find bananas in the middle of Colorado in the winter.
The next few stories are from MicahLamdin:
My first D&D campaign:
Every one of us was new to D&D except for one person, who of course thought he was entitled to complain about anything and everything the DM did because he was, y'know, experienced and all. Now, he was indeed better at playing than most of the party, as evidenced by the fact that one of us bought a magical goatee in a beard shop (don't ask) and spent the entire time sitting on a bench in town stroking it evilly and going "Yeees, yeeeees...". However, pissing off the DM is generally a stupid idea no matter how good you are, because the DM is God - and, as God, can summon unholy evil wrath upon your head.
Long story short, the DM had him fight an ancient red dragon at second level. Unfortunately, he forgot that the dice we were using for the campaign actually belonged to the guy, even if he was an insufferable jackass.
Longer story even shorter, end of campaign.
So it's a few years later. I've run a character through a long campaign for superpowered characters and become a God, and now I'm running this campaign for a few friends of mine at school. These people are, unfortunately, not particularly loyal. Which is an understatement on the level of "Gee, Hitler wasn't real nice, was he?"
This is the first and most infamous of a long string of incidents proving the above statement: The Critical Hit With a Bowl of Chili. My friends Skyler and Zac had gotten themselves into a barfight (they're first level, what else are they supposed to do in a city?).
Me (DM): "Okay, the entire bar is going nuts. The guy next to you seems to be the only one not actively participating, as he is attempting to guard his bowl of what looks like chili."
Skyler: "I hit him with my chair!" *rolls a one*
Me: "... right. Okay, you attempt to slam the chair down on his head, but he jerks himself to the right and the chair instead bounces off the table and hits you in the forehead. You are a bit dazed."
Zac, seeing Skyler might be in trouble: "I sneak behind the bar."
Me: "So, apparently, in dodging you, this guy spilled his chili. This has made him very angry. He grabs the bowl and attempts to bring it down on your head." *rolls a twenty*
Me: "... and scores a critical hit for, uh, four damage. You now have scalding hit chili all over your face."
Zac: "I take all the money from behind the bar and walk out the back."
Cut to a bit later in the campaign. The characters are about tenth level now, and given that it's a campaign for supercharacters, very badass. Ethan, the ranger, has just completed a mission involving the assassination of an evil cultist in a rather large building, and is on his way out. There is but one thing standing between him and the doorway: A lowly desk clerk. And by 'standing between him and' I mean 'cowering behind a desk across the room from'. Nevertheless, for amusement value, I decided to have the clerk shoot at Ethan. And thus was born the legend of...
The Invincible Clerk
Me: "Okay, the clerk pulls out a dinky little crossbow and fires at you."
Ethan: "Pah."
Me: *rolls a twenty* "And crits for, uh, six damage!"
Ethan: "... what the fuck? Okay, this little bastard is going to die. I run over there and cut his head off with one of my swords, and if that doesn't work I gut him with the other one." (Ethan dual-wields) *he proceeds to roll a two and then a one*
Me: "You take a mighty whack at the clerk, who ducks. Your sword whistles over his head and bounces off the wall, jarring your arm, but you hold on. Your other sword slices down at the cowering clerk, but you misjudge your swing and bury it in the table."
Ethan: *long string of obscenities*
Me: "The clerk has, meanwhile, reloaded. He fires again, and hits! You take another three damage."
Ethan: "GODDAMMIT! DIE! I cut his fucking head off!" *rolls another two*
Me: "Actually, you swing wildly and almost fall on your ass, the sword coming within maybe two feet of the clerk."
Ethan: "OH GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!"
Me: "The clerk picks up the letter opener lying on the desk and attempts to stab you with it. As luck would have it, he hits you in an open wound, causing another four points of damage."
Ethan: *apoplectic fit* "I pick up the fucking desk and hit him over the fucking head with it!"
Me: "... it's bolted to the floor."
Ethan: "WHAT?!"
Me: "I just said, it's bolted to the floor."
Ethan: "Who the FUCK bolts desks to the FUCKING FLOOR?!"
Me: "The people who run this building, apparently. Anyway, he attacks you again and hits. Two points of damage."
Ethan: *starts sobbing* "I yank my sword out of the desk and hit him with it!" (at this point, he was sort of beyond creative descriptions of swinging)
Me: "And it clangs off the desk lamp and goes spinning from your hand across the floor."
Ethan: *nothing coherent*
Me: "Right, the clerk finds a small knife hidden among his papers and proceeds to stab you with that. Take another three damage."
Ethan: "I PIN HIM TO THE WALL."
Me: "... so you do. Finally, you have defeated... the DESK CLERK! Well done."
Everyone else: *rolls around laughing hysterically*
Until the end, he never rolled over a three. And the clerk never rolled under an eighteen. It was a beautiful day.
Sequel to SagaOfClivesdale, this time a city campaign, also DMed by NickJohnson
Players go to meet an agent for the theives guild, in order to sort out a misunderstanding between them and the other guild. The paladin enters alone and sits down to drink, while the rest of everyone takes up positions nearby in the bar. The paladin is surrounded by like 9 guys, and is trying to talk his way out of the situation, but they'll have none of that. As they begin to attack, the urban ranger at the bar disarms one guy and proceeds to attack while the paladin flips the table. The two women rush over to assist the paladin, and about half the bar pulls knifes (against the party). The ranger leaps over the bar, crashing into the bartender. They throw chairs at him, but he ducks, knocking into the bottles at the back of the bar. Then two of the guys hop over the bar, and proceed to grapple the ranger. The disarmed guy is truly a bastard, and tosses a flaming brand from the fire (it's winter) over the bar into the liquor, catching the lump of people on fire. Much falling unconscious ensues, and luckily the party saw where the ranger went and carried him out before he died...
In a campaign run by JacobSeene?, the party is trying to reach a cleric that's been rousing pirates. This cleric is hiding in a cove in an atoll.
Start: Rogue #1 (StumpyDumbassFrosh), who'd been scouting the hideout, busts out of hiding and sneak attacks a passerby, killing him instantly. People notice. DUH.
Rogue #1 tries to jump onto a house and barely fails; rest of party hears commotion and starts running down the hill. Rogue #1 eventually hides under the house.
Party (including a pet dog and pet bear) bursts out of the trees, led by Rogue #2. "Where is he? Where'd he go?!?" Gnome #1 (Melvin) follows immediately behind, setting off a Rod of Wonder ... and blinking twenty feet to the left.
Much yelling and pointing of crossbows ensues. Gnome #1 drops his hammer, diving into the middle of the standoff. Cleric steps out of a nearby building and starts casting spells, starting out by flying into the air.
The Duke begins intimidating the hell out of the crossbow-wielding pirates. They become very confused.
Gnome #2 emerges from the trees in the form of a bear.
Rogue #2 talks Rogue #1 into emerging from under the house, and "binds" his wrists, then demands to speak to whoever's in charge to make an apology for the killing. As Rogue #1 emerges, he shouts "Give it up, Melvin, they've won."
The Duke's dog picks up Gnome #1's hammer. Gnome #1 flips out and sets off rod of wonder again, hitting the dog and a crossbowman with a lightning bolt.
Enemy Cleric: "Enough. Kill them." Flame strike on center of standoff.
Crossbowmen do nothing useful. Rogue #1 grabs sword back and starts running.
Rogue #2 runs to beneath cleric, throws feather onto ground, and flies into the air on top of a giant tree, grabbing the cleric. Gnome #1 is busy getting his hammer back.
Cleric shakes Rogue #2 back into the tree and flies higher.
...
Gnome #2 casts Control Winds, blowing cleric back to right over the tree. Rogue #2 sticks a tanglefoot bag onto the flying cleric's feet.
The Duke stands under the tree and tries to activate necklace of fireballs. Necklace is cursed. Tree is now on fire.
Cleric casts Cone of Cold back onto those around the tree, putting the fire out.
Rogue #1 sticks a grappling hook into the tanglefoot bag and starts climbing. Rogue #2 ties the rope to an immovable rod.
Cleric starts shooting arrows point-blank into Rogue #1.
The Duke and Rogue #2 levitate around the cleric; The Duke starts a grapple.
Rogues #1 and #2 start stabbing away.
Gnome #1 has climbed the tree and sets off Rod of Wonder, casting a Stinking Cloud. The only one that doesn't pass the save is The Duke, who becomes violently nauseated and begins puking on the cleric, breaking the grapple.
Cleric casts greater command; all people around her have to Flee. It's left to the Archer to snipe her down from there.
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