-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Player Characters are not fiction characters
- Thread starter Voneth
- Start date
Priest
First Post
Fiction: "C3PO, C3PO do you read me? " Luke yells into his communicator " Shut off the Power to the Garbage Compactors..
"Shut off the power you overgrown bucket of boltz, their dying in there"
" Zoooh Bitzuh Woooh Zee doot Zee Doooh" R2D2 replies indignantly
"You did it C3PO, Were Saved, Hahaha" Luck says happily
Game:
" C3PO, C3PO Do you read me " Luke yells loadly into his communicator "Shut off the power to the Garbage compactors"
" Do you here something R2, Its sounds like Master I am a whinner Luke. What Master Luke I can't here you" C3PO says with a stiff smirk looking at his internal clock " 1....2.....3 Ok R2 Shut it off we gave them a good scare"
"Zooooohoooh Beep boop Unnnt hooooh Zee doot roooh"
"What do you meen to late it can't be I timed it just right to coinincide with the garabage compactors rate of movement"
DM from somewhere off in the station you here the sound of the external trash bays opening into the vacuum of space, looking out the cargo bay the flattened bodies of your heros, and something that looks like a rug go flying by with grimaces on there face.
C3PO Player: At least it wasn't a TPK
DM "You there" a Stormtroopers voice rings down the hall
R2's Player: Lets book it Zee dooot roooh
"Stop them"
Fade to black end of Session TPK
"Shut off the power you overgrown bucket of boltz, their dying in there"
" Zoooh Bitzuh Woooh Zee doot Zee Doooh" R2D2 replies indignantly
"You did it C3PO, Were Saved, Hahaha" Luck says happily
Game:
" C3PO, C3PO Do you read me " Luke yells loadly into his communicator "Shut off the power to the Garbage compactors"
" Do you here something R2, Its sounds like Master I am a whinner Luke. What Master Luke I can't here you" C3PO says with a stiff smirk looking at his internal clock " 1....2.....3 Ok R2 Shut it off we gave them a good scare"
"Zooooohoooh Beep boop Unnnt hooooh Zee doot roooh"
"What do you meen to late it can't be I timed it just right to coinincide with the garabage compactors rate of movement"
DM from somewhere off in the station you here the sound of the external trash bays opening into the vacuum of space, looking out the cargo bay the flattened bodies of your heros, and something that looks like a rug go flying by with grimaces on there face.
C3PO Player: At least it wasn't a TPK
DM "You there" a Stormtroopers voice rings down the hall
R2's Player: Lets book it Zee dooot roooh
"Stop them"
Fade to black end of Session TPK
Last edited:
s/LaSH
First Post
Chain Lightning said:
Thanks, it needed it. I was tired when I wrote it, I'm tired now, and I need another phoneline in here so I can 'net during the day when I'm actually conscious and not get yelled at.
That said, here's another idea, hopefully more fluently delineated.
Fiction:
The callow youth didn't know it yet, but the blade the old man gave him would help him discover his true destiny as a master Knight, and play a vital role in the restoration of the Republic.
Game:
The callow youth didn't know it yet, but next level he'd multiclass into Sorceror, maybe pick up Leadership feat and give the blade to one of his cohorts. Then he'd carve out his own little kingdom, maybe start up some trade with the Empire, and get himself a princess and some platinum swimwear. Good thing his character wasn't too well defined at the start, huh?
Alternative Game:
The callow youth knew his destiny, all right. He even had the feats to use that blade before he'd recieved it, and a character path including two splatbook PrCs before he hit level 15; that way, he'd be the most lethal Knight in the history of the Republic. Lately, for some reason, he's been hiring lawyers that specialise in paternity issues... nobody knows why, but a certain Dark Lord has been getting more and more jumpy.
Plane Sailing
Astral Admin - Mwahahaha!
FICTION:
"Not so fast, Mr Blond" says the villain. A guard with a loaded crossbow steps round the corner, and Mr Blond surrenders... for now.
GAME:
"Not so fast, Mr Blond" says the villain. A guard with a loaded crossbow steps round the corner. Mr Blond goes straight in for the attack anyway, knowing that even on a crit the crossbow can't kill him.
"Not so fast, Mr Blond" says the villain. A guard with a loaded crossbow steps round the corner, and Mr Blond surrenders... for now.
GAME:
"Not so fast, Mr Blond" says the villain. A guard with a loaded crossbow steps round the corner. Mr Blond goes straight in for the attack anyway, knowing that even on a crit the crossbow can't kill him.
Fiction: After a long hard run from the horde of minions of the Evil Overlord, the heroes find themselves back onto a cliff, with a deadly fall to the rocks below. They surrender and are taken prisoner.
Game: After a long hard run from the horde of minions of the Evil Overlord, the heroes find themselves back onto a cliff, with a deadly fall to the rocks below:
PC#1: How far does it look to be?
DM: About 60 feet straight down
PC#1: Great. I still have 70 Hps, I can survive the fall and get away.
PC#2: I got my ring of Feather Fall, no damage here.
PC#3: I'm a high level monk. No damage for me either
PC#4: I cast Fly.
Thus enabling the heroic party to escape from the Horde of the Evil OVerlord, bypassing the next plot point in the DMS finely crafted adventure.
Hawkeye
Game: After a long hard run from the horde of minions of the Evil Overlord, the heroes find themselves back onto a cliff, with a deadly fall to the rocks below:
PC#1: How far does it look to be?
DM: About 60 feet straight down
PC#1: Great. I still have 70 Hps, I can survive the fall and get away.
PC#2: I got my ring of Feather Fall, no damage here.
PC#3: I'm a high level monk. No damage for me either
PC#4: I cast Fly.
Thus enabling the heroic party to escape from the Horde of the Evil OVerlord, bypassing the next plot point in the DMS finely crafted adventure.
Hawkeye
Airwolf
First Post
Fiction
The rain ceases just after sunset. The three settle in for a cheerless night. In a few hours the clouds have broken. The cold chill of the night falls upon the weary travelers. In the hours before the dawn, the fog begins to roll in. Not the thin wispy stuff of ghost stories but the heavy banks of mist so thick that a hand in front of a face is but a dim outline.
Restless they awake.
One says, “I hate this stuff.”
Another, “It makes me feel cold and damp all over.”
“Soon.” A low voice rumbles from the third, a figure wrapped tight in its cloak against the chill of the fog. It’s knees pulled to its chest and the hood of its cloak pulled low over its face. “The sun will awake from her slumber and this mist of despair and gloom will pass.
The others settle back in and try to find a way to keep the soggy air from reaching them.
As promised a glow in the distance, a faint and pale light turns into a luminescence that could mean only one thing. The sun peaks over the distant mountains.
The view is almost otherworldly. The sun, normally a fiery yellow at first light, turning to a blazing white ball is subdued and red. The fog, in bands does it lay, giving the sun the appearance of cloudbanks of its own. The impression grows that the three are not on a planet but on a moon orbiting a colossal gas giant of a planet. The fog remains.
The third, “What foul magic brings omens such as these?”
Slowly the peril draws ever closer. It thinks “Ah, the fog is a blessing from the our demongod. Our prey is near.”
Game:
The rain ceases just after sunset. The three settle in for a cheerless night. In a few hours the clouds have broken. The cold chill of the night falls upon the weary travelers. In the hours before the dawn, the fog begins to roll in. Not the thin wispy stuff of ghost stories but the heavy banks of mist so thick that a hand in front of a face is but a dim outline.
Restless they awake.
One says, “I hate this stuff.”
Another, “It makes me feel cold and damp all over.”
The third says, “Stupid DM, I got 8 hours of sleep. I’m casting control weather. I call forth the winds of the west to drive this wretched fog far away.”
DM: “Ahhhh,” the DM makes a note, remember for future reference: the sorcerer has control weather. “In 10 minutes the fog has started to dissipate. You see a large group of goblins advancing to surround the camp.”
The slaughter of the goblins commences.
The rain ceases just after sunset. The three settle in for a cheerless night. In a few hours the clouds have broken. The cold chill of the night falls upon the weary travelers. In the hours before the dawn, the fog begins to roll in. Not the thin wispy stuff of ghost stories but the heavy banks of mist so thick that a hand in front of a face is but a dim outline.
Restless they awake.
One says, “I hate this stuff.”
Another, “It makes me feel cold and damp all over.”
“Soon.” A low voice rumbles from the third, a figure wrapped tight in its cloak against the chill of the fog. It’s knees pulled to its chest and the hood of its cloak pulled low over its face. “The sun will awake from her slumber and this mist of despair and gloom will pass.
The others settle back in and try to find a way to keep the soggy air from reaching them.
As promised a glow in the distance, a faint and pale light turns into a luminescence that could mean only one thing. The sun peaks over the distant mountains.
The view is almost otherworldly. The sun, normally a fiery yellow at first light, turning to a blazing white ball is subdued and red. The fog, in bands does it lay, giving the sun the appearance of cloudbanks of its own. The impression grows that the three are not on a planet but on a moon orbiting a colossal gas giant of a planet. The fog remains.
The third, “What foul magic brings omens such as these?”
Slowly the peril draws ever closer. It thinks “Ah, the fog is a blessing from the our demongod. Our prey is near.”
Game:
The rain ceases just after sunset. The three settle in for a cheerless night. In a few hours the clouds have broken. The cold chill of the night falls upon the weary travelers. In the hours before the dawn, the fog begins to roll in. Not the thin wispy stuff of ghost stories but the heavy banks of mist so thick that a hand in front of a face is but a dim outline.
Restless they awake.
One says, “I hate this stuff.”
Another, “It makes me feel cold and damp all over.”
The third says, “Stupid DM, I got 8 hours of sleep. I’m casting control weather. I call forth the winds of the west to drive this wretched fog far away.”
DM: “Ahhhh,” the DM makes a note, remember for future reference: the sorcerer has control weather. “In 10 minutes the fog has started to dissipate. You see a large group of goblins advancing to surround the camp.”
The slaughter of the goblins commences.
Last edited:
Nifft
Penguin Herder
Fiction: "Well met, barkeep! I have come from the southlands, to offer your village aid in its time of need. You have no doubt heard of others like myself, seeking adventure, and would know more of their character than I could assay. Could I ask the boon of your sound judgement in recommending any allies for my journeys in the days ahead?"
Game: "Well met, barkeep! Do you know of any unattached persons seeking adventure in the area -- specifically, one with a religious background and one with a rogueish background?"
-- Nifft
Game: "Well met, barkeep! Do you know of any unattached persons seeking adventure in the area -- specifically, one with a religious background and one with a rogueish background?"
-- Nifft
Sixchan
First Post
Fiction: Elasana sat with her friends in the local tavern. As they relaxed and settled down into their seats, they realized something very important. Life was good. But as they finished their second round a young boy burst in. "Miss Elasana! Miss Elasana! Farmer Johnathan was attacked by Goblins on his farm! You and your friends must help!" As she and her friends rose to their feet, they at once knew that this was the start of a new life for them.
Game:
DM: OK, so you're in a bar...
PC: I go up to the bar...
DM: OK...
PC: And I pull out my dagger and say to the Barkeep, "Where's the dungeon?"
DM: WHAT? You can't do that!
PC: I start cutting the buttons off his shirt. I make more theats. "Where's the Dungeon?"
DM: *sigh*
Alternate Game:
DM: *Uses the fiction passage as narration*
PC#2: Hey, how come her character is getting all the screen time?
DM: Because I'm using plot hooks in her background for the first adventure.
PC#2: Oh? Hey Kirsty, let me see your background! We can find out who the bad guy is!
DM: *sigh*
Game:
DM: OK, so you're in a bar...
PC: I go up to the bar...
DM: OK...
PC: And I pull out my dagger and say to the Barkeep, "Where's the dungeon?"
DM: WHAT? You can't do that!
PC: I start cutting the buttons off his shirt. I make more theats. "Where's the Dungeon?"
DM: *sigh*
Alternate Game:
DM: *Uses the fiction passage as narration*
PC#2: Hey, how come her character is getting all the screen time?
DM: Because I'm using plot hooks in her background for the first adventure.
PC#2: Oh? Hey Kirsty, let me see your background! We can find out who the bad guy is!
DM: *sigh*
KDLadage
Explorer
FICTION:
The great Magi looked upon the crowd. He could sense the fear and hatred in their hearts as they held tight their pitchforks and torches. A whisper seemed to move through the crowd with words like 'burn' and 'demon-slave' reaching his aged ears. He raised his hands, "I do not threaten you, good people. I bring not the cold and heartless clamor of empty rhetoric or the threat of magical doom. I bring salvation!"
A Priest, in his dark red and blue robes stepped forth. "What know ye of salvation, spell-weaver?"
"Salvation of the soul? I know not. Salvation of the body and the mind? That is what I offer you. You are threatened, not by me, but by the workings of an evil so subtle that I can only barely perceive of it. It is there, none-the-less, and it is this even that causing your hogs to wither, your cows to remain dry and your chickens to die in the night. I need you to believe me, for without that trust, I cannot give you the salvation I offer."
"At what cost to our souls?" asked the Priest, looking back at the people, sensing the same fear that the Wizard monitored through his words.
"None, sir. Although I know in my heart that my arts are not a detriment to my soul, I would not ask you to trust me that far -- not yet. I do not offer anything more than my wisdom. I will not cast a spell on you fair folk. I offer assistance, aid, information. I need heroes."
"Heroes?" asked the Priest. "Where would you find a hero here?"
"It is the common man that is a hero, good Priest. A common man that knows the fundamental truth of the world: there are deeds to be done, dragons to be slain, and women to die for!"
GAME:
DM: "You, the great Magi, looked upon the crowd. You sense the fear and hatred in their hearts as they hold tight their pitchforks and torches. A whisper seems to move through the crowd with words like 'burn' and 'demon-slave' reaching your aged ears."
PLAYER: "I rolled a 19 on my Diplomacy check. Now what?"
DM: *sigh*
The great Magi looked upon the crowd. He could sense the fear and hatred in their hearts as they held tight their pitchforks and torches. A whisper seemed to move through the crowd with words like 'burn' and 'demon-slave' reaching his aged ears. He raised his hands, "I do not threaten you, good people. I bring not the cold and heartless clamor of empty rhetoric or the threat of magical doom. I bring salvation!"
A Priest, in his dark red and blue robes stepped forth. "What know ye of salvation, spell-weaver?"
"Salvation of the soul? I know not. Salvation of the body and the mind? That is what I offer you. You are threatened, not by me, but by the workings of an evil so subtle that I can only barely perceive of it. It is there, none-the-less, and it is this even that causing your hogs to wither, your cows to remain dry and your chickens to die in the night. I need you to believe me, for without that trust, I cannot give you the salvation I offer."
"At what cost to our souls?" asked the Priest, looking back at the people, sensing the same fear that the Wizard monitored through his words.
"None, sir. Although I know in my heart that my arts are not a detriment to my soul, I would not ask you to trust me that far -- not yet. I do not offer anything more than my wisdom. I will not cast a spell on you fair folk. I offer assistance, aid, information. I need heroes."
"Heroes?" asked the Priest. "Where would you find a hero here?"
"It is the common man that is a hero, good Priest. A common man that knows the fundamental truth of the world: there are deeds to be done, dragons to be slain, and women to die for!"
GAME:
DM: "You, the great Magi, looked upon the crowd. You sense the fear and hatred in their hearts as they hold tight their pitchforks and torches. A whisper seems to move through the crowd with words like 'burn' and 'demon-slave' reaching your aged ears."
PLAYER: "I rolled a 19 on my Diplomacy check. Now what?"
DM: *sigh*
Last edited:
Similar Threads
