“Morbion created these four pools of olive slime by using stone shape to create two-foot-deep hollow depressions in the floor. He then transplanted a batch of olive slime to each and has been cultivating the four over the past several days in an attempt to develop variant forms of the ooze. So far, his experiments have met with failure and he’s only grown four patches of ordinary olive slime.”
has a head full of strange patterns, slowly coalescing. Like lightning seeking one particular point of earth and one cracked channel of air, then whipping a crest of ions, drawing down the fire, he is, without realising, looking for ways to be in the world.
Not like a Hero, its not a job description, you don't really turn into that thing. But a pattern, something to improvise with. A shield between your assumption of yourself and the horrible things the world is about to do to you. And, for me, at about the age of twelve, it was this guy
It was important that he didn't kill people, and I think it was important, somehow, that he didn't think too much about not killing them. When they point it out to him, he's forgotten and assumed there must have been an occasional casualty. He's surprised when he finds out he's the worlds best criminal with a zero death rate. And somewhere in the back of a twelve year old's head, a little line gets drawn. Yes. That is how a man should act. That is how to be. He got drunk and I didn't know what that meant or what it was like. He fell in love and I knew nothing of that. He was good, but he broke the law. He worked for the feds, but only to take down real monsters. When he escaped from training school, he pulled the remote destruct fuse on the ship he stole. Seconds after he did that it went off. He didn't know that they were all programmed to do that. They expect you to escape. They like to give you a little kick when you do to ensure initiative. He fought dictators and power hungry butchers and awful soulless grey men. Sometimes he fought the military, or just the fact that there was a military. He hung out with aliens. I can remember, with exactness, the day I bought the first book. I can recall the weather and the sounds. There was a lake. Someone was flying a model plane. The other kids were playing. If you peel back enough layers, under nineteen years of resentment and fear, you'll find a twelve year old boy who, just once, wants to take down an evil dictator with a hijacked satellite and a sharpened fingernail. Goodbye Harry Harrison. You changed my life. Not by much, like moonlight on an uncurled leaf, just a touch.
So it didn't really matter that I forgot to bring them.
After being mugged after a carousing roll and turning up naked at the tavern with one hit point and no money.
Teen1 (about Teen2) "Cut his face."
Teen3 "No, tie him up naked."
Teen2 "Wouldn't they be suspicious that you're taking a naked man upstairs to saw his face?"
DM "No because you're already a couple."*
At the Eternal Feast of the Harvest Knight
"Oh so when it's in town and we're begging you not to drink THEN you get drunk, but you won't eat anything now." "No because you never eat the food they offer a place called the Neverending Feast."
In the Dungeon beneath the castle of the recently murdered Harvest Knight. "I'll follow you because something bad's going to happen and I want to laugh in your face when it does."
After pissing on the Mysterious Yet Impossible statue of a PC in said dungeon. And being wrestled to the ground by said PC. "I don't care if I pee on myself, I'm going to pee on your statue." Teen3 while holding down fellow teammate. "Carve 'TIT' into his platemail."
And yet when challenged for a song to enter the feast of the Harvest Knight Teen1 and 2 broke into a perfect dual rendition of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'. Teen3 chose 'I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts.' They seemed happy by the end. I need to focus more. I was lazy, disconnected and unprepared this time. I owe them a bit better than than. *On reflection, yes, yes they would be suspicious at the facial mutilation thing. Assuming gay couples in mock-feudal settings co-mutilate is insane. I was under a lot of pressure at the time. Sorry gays.
have been several times playing RPG's when I've become frustrated and thought that the most
effective way to progress would be to form the players into a tight
military-style team with a clear hierarchy and relentlessly pursue
the goal of levelling up. I have never actually played this way
because it seems like to opposite of fun.
generally accepted that almost no group of players anywhere has acted
anything like this. (If you have, or did, feel free to comment
we accept that players will act in a way that stops them pursuing the
most optimal goal. This is so obvious to state about RPG's that it's
the most effective way to oppose the players is to persistently try
and kill them with whatever resources the imagined world can
there is a kind of abstract, absolute version of D&D kind of
operating in the background as people play. One where ruthless,
dedicated teams of highly focused players try to outwit deamonically
clever DM's in order to advance in level.
of my games are remotely like that. The players, in fact, play
against themselves to a high degree and I play against myself. I tend
use the dice to ground myself and make sure I'm not going too soft on
players. I roll publicly so I'm not tempted to fudge. The dice want
to kill you. They are like dogs I own. I don't want you to get hurt
but the dogs are hungry and they have to have their chance.
irony is something more than comedy. A comic situation is proved to
be an ironic one if a hidden relation is discovered in the
incongruity. If virtue becomes vice through some hidden defect in the
virtue; if strength becomes weakness because of the vanity to which
strength may prompt the mighty man or nation; if security is
transmuted into insecurity because too much reliance is placed on it;
if wisdom becomes folly because it does not know it's own limits –
in all such cases the situation is ironic.
The ironic situation is
distinguished from the pathetic one by the fact that the person
involved in it has some responsibility for it. It is differentiated
from tragedy by the fact that the responsibility is related to an
unconscious weakness rather than to a conscious resolution.
a pathetic or tragic situation is not dissolved when a person becomes
conscious of his involvement in it, an ironic situation must
dissolve, if men or nations are made aware of their complicity in it.
Such awareness involves some realisation of the hidden vanity or
pretension by which comedy is turned into irony.”
becoming vice, strength becoming weakness through vanity, security
transmuted into insecurity, wisdom becoming folly.
sounds like every good game I've ever run or played in. In fact it
sounds like the best parts of those games. The un-plannable aspects
that make the game different to everything else.
the situation does not dissolve. We continue regardless, in full
awareness of the irony. We continue because of the irony, hoping for
it, playing towards it. What is this?
"Ok my backstory is that my parents were killed and I was raised by Dwarves" (who apparently
named him after the city they lived in, Wiggleton) "but the corrupt
dwarf king's men killed my dwarf dad and then I picked up a bar of iron from my fathers forge killed the kings guard and that's how I
kind of became the ultimate person, oh, and I slept with the kings
Teen1 - "Do I have to take a WIS test every time I take a drink? I don't really feel like my characters an alcoholic."
DM- "I'll give you and Teen2 50 XP each if you can persuade Teen3 that it's a good idea to get drunk right now. Teen3 I will give you 100 XP if you can persuade them to stay sober."
30 seconds later
Teen1 - "If you take a drink now, I won't kill you."
Hold on! Do you think this monastery might be a very evil monastery?"
Two minutes after cutting the arms and legs off an undead monk in abandoned swamp-struck Hellmarsh monastery.
After a five minute discussion of the accuracy of scholarship surrounding the life of Jesus, the relative loyalty of Lizardfolk to a six-foot lunatic wearing enamelled plate mail with the Crown of the Lizard King gilded to the helmet, the poor conditions in the swamp around Hellmarsh monastery and the negative impact of human hypocrisy on possible re-settlement of an occasionally man-eating race because "we eat cows and nobody says we're evil.'
"It doesnt matter what the actual Jesus looked like. The Lizard Jesus can be a totally different thing. I can be Lizard Jesus wearing enamelled Platemail."
On the complaints of the relatively sane Teen3 when going through three separate doors in Hellmarsh Monastery with three separate characters.
"Come on, you know it's more fun when we split up."