D&D conversation in the style of... [game]

DM: Well, the bard didn't make it past the swimsuit competition, so let's give him a big hand folks. You too, over in the sahuagin corner - after all, you're to blame. Next! Our lovely adventurers come across a sphinx, and have to riddle her riddles! I'd just like to reintroduce out judges at this moment, namely me.

Aaaand here's out first lovely contestant. Fighter, representing Undermountain, is wearing a shimmering suit of chainmail and has had his beard plaited by, it says here, Einkil the Smith?

* Fighter steps forward *

Fighter (thick accent): Yes, that's right. Einkil is a good friend of mine.

DM: That's just lovely. And now, the Sphinx has a question for you: If you win this adventure, how would you bring about world peace?

* Fighter confers with a dwarf sitting beside him, clearly confused by the question *

Fighter (smiles broadly): I would smash the orcs with my battleaxe, conquer the troglodytes with my mighty thews, and tour high schools to give motivational speeches.

DM: Thank you! We'll check in with the judges later, because now it's time to go to a clip of the vacation we gave our heroes on an exotic island paradise.

* Film rolls. Half-orc in a bikini fighting velociraptors in exotic jungle *

Player: Good lord, you're weird. Where did you even get that? No, don't tell me, I'm outta here.

* Long silence *

DM: I crown myself Miss Adventure 2003!

* Places crown on head, falls down and gets stuck on beard *

Next theme: DragonBall Z (don't kill me all at once)
 

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[3 episodes later, which only fill 23.6 seconds of DBZ-world time]
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"OBLITERATE EVERYTHING IN SIGHT EXCEPT My Archnemesis which miraculously has just the proper defense which he gloats over while pummeling me with the same four punches in a 3 minute loop of repeated animation (with bad dubbing).


next: D&D in the style of James Bond.
 

DM: Unfortunately, yoo have stumbled upon my mastah plan to mount an orbital cannon over Faeroon, Mistah Bond. Yoo must now be eleeminated. Make a foh-titude save.

Moneypenny: Roll high, James! I love you! (sniff)

Bond: Now see here, Dr. No, that isn't sporting, old bean.

Q: Ehm, Double Oh-Seven, wot we've got here looks like a regular cigarette lighter, but when pushed hee-ah, casts the spell Breathe Underwater as if by a twelfth-level Wiz-AHRD.

Bond: Fiendishly clever, Q. Does it work?

Q: Ehm, well, we've only prototyped it. But MI6 thought it should come in handy in case you were faced with, ehm, such an unsavory situation...

Bond: I see. Dr. No, I push the special button...

DM: Aaaaagh! Nooooo!

(fade to black)

Background Voice, old man: So you see, Madame Prime Minister, our agent has foiled yet another evil plan. I shall try to raise him so that you can congratulate him personally...

Next style - Batman and Robin, the series.
 

Ominous music plays. Fighter is sitting on top of a gargoyle that looks inexplicably Art-Deco, draped in a long dark cloak.

Fighter (intent, macho voice): I make a spot check.

DM (Mark Hamill): Oh, really? You know, you're driving me absolutely batty over here with all your spot checks. (Rolls dice) You see a bank robber.

Fighter: I draw my-

Suddenly, a dozen other costumed adventurers swing off the rooftops, collide, and land in a heap on the ground.

Fighter: Dick? Barbara? Tim? Clark? Selena? J'onn? Kyle? Helena? Alfred? Kara? Peter Parker? What are you doing here?

Dick: You need our help, Bruce.

Fighter: No, I don't. Anyway, he's getting away. Can I just get past -

Barbara: Don't be silly, Bruce. You can't just shut yourself off from the world; it's good role-playing, but we're a team!

Fighter: Stop calling me Bruce, we're in public. Seriously, he's level 1, I could take him with a blindfold (thanks to my extensive choice of feats), and anyway, you were supposed to be covering Arkham Asylum to discover who his boss is.

Tim: But I'm your sidekick, Bruce! We're supposed to work together!

DM (cackling hysterically): Oh, too late! A cloud of poison gas explodes around you. Everyone make a fortitude saving throw!

Fighter: I fill my lungs deliberately. Do I still get a save?

Next up: In the style of Star Wars!
 

{Scene: The experienced Cleric, not so experienced Rogue, and the neophyte paladin are clustered near a wagon that's seen much better days. The humaniform construct and the salt shaker shaped construct are busy putting things away in the back ground.}

Rogue: There she is, the Centurion Sparrow.

Paladin: That's a piece of junk! And look at the condition of the horses.

Rogue: For your information, kid, that "piece of junk" once did fifteen furlongs on the Daggerdale Run.

{The sound of approaching squall recruits is heard off stage, the three scramble on board the Centurion Sparrow, which then leaves in a shower of leaves.

Next, in the style of Charles Dickens
 

[SCENE: The fighter of the group lies dying at the feet of the cleric who used his last remaining spells in the previous battle, no healing is available for the poor fighter]

BERT (Cleric) - "Never, never, before the gods, have I thought of you but as the single, bright, pure, blessed recollection of my boyhood and my youth. Never have I from the first, and never shall I to the last, regard your part in my life, but as something sacred, never to be lightly thought of, never to be esteemed enough, never, until death, to be forgotten."

NORMAN (Fighter) - "Something will come of this, I knows it. I hope it mayn't be human gore and the death of you my closets and most trusted of friends while I slip this mortal coil and leave you alone in these dungeons."

BERT (Cleric) - "All is going on as it was wont. The waves are hoarse with repetition of their mystery; the dust lies piled upon the shore; the sea-birds soar and hover; the winds and clouds go forth upon their trackless flight; the white arms beckon, in the moonlight, to the invisible country far away. You my friend shall leave this earth and all that have loved you, we shall go on but with a hole in our hearts for ever"

HAROLD (Rogue) - "Erm ..... are you guys funny or something, I'm off down the pub to drink some ale and pull some birds....."


Next in the style of Jerry Springer
 
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On todays Jerry Springer: "You Might Pillage Me, But That Don't Mean You Can Allow Yourself Anything"

Jerry: "Hey, on todays Jerry Springer, we are talking about the subject of pillaging and about what you really can allow yourself when youre looting a tomb. After all, even though some of might be evil necromancers with hideous schemes of conquering the world, that doesn't mean you have the right to hurt other peoples feelings. My first guest is Arakham, the evil Lich of Caryp Mountain. Tell us your story Arakham"

Arakham: "Well, its actually very simple. I was merely hanging around in my mountain lair, dissecting some still-breathing villagers. Suddenly, a group of vile adventurers break in and begin beating my zombies left and right. I, as the villain that I am, start hurling them good ol' fireballs left and right, but the darn adventurers still make it through. So, as the evil villain that I am, I flee, we always flee. Off course, I expected the adventurers to loot my tomb, its happened a couple of times before anyways. I always leave a few magic items around for those occasions. But, when I come back, not only have they taken the magic items and freed my prisoners, they also forgot to close the door to the refrigirator. I mean, off course they are supposed to pillage and loot, but by god (some evil death god), why cant they remember to shut the friggin door. My nutella was rotten, my butter was stale and my aspargus was looking like something from the Night of the Living Dead. Aren't there any limits to what you can do when you pillage?"

Black Woman From Crowd: "You should stop skulking around in that lair of your, mhmmmm, and find yourself a man the TRULY loves you"

Arakham: "Erm, I dont need a man, im undead"

Geeky White Guy From Crowd: "Perhaps if you tried to sit down and talk with the pillagers instead, you know, communication and stuff"

Arakham: "I dont need to, im undead"

Black Woman From Crowd: "Hey, and get yourselves some new clothes, you look like white trash from some suburbian hell. Perhaps then you wouldn't have all those personal problems"

Arakham: "Im really comfortable in my old cloak"

Jerry Springer: "Well, we might need to get on with the program. I have talked to some people and they are willing to do a COMPLETE MAKEOVER of our dear Arakham. How about that!"

Arakham: "Well, im not really interes...."

Jerry Springer: "Okay, take him away boys"

Big, bouncers come in and take the lich away from the scene

Jerry Springer: "A study made by the Cormyrian office of statistics prove that most adventurers dislike liches because of their clothing. Well, not anymore. After we have finished our work on this bad guy, he's gonna he the most snazzy looking villain in all of faerun"

The Lich comes back, all dressed up.

Jerry Springer: "Look at that bad boy. I mean, he looks like something right out of Sears catalogue"

Arakham: "Im not really that much into silk, I merely wanted to come here to....."

Black Woman From Crowd: "You look good baby, now you can go find yourself a man that wont hurt you, youre too good for anything else"

Arakham: "Im not looking for a....."

Geeky White Guy From Crowd: "But remember, clothes dont make people. What matters is whats inside"

Arakham: "Im not the one that chose these clothe....."

Italian Stud From Crowd: "Hey, man, u shud juz show som more of da chest haers, da chiks luv it"

Arakham: "I dont have chest hairs, im unde.."

Jerry Springer: "And that will be all for today. What have we learnt? No matter how big and bad a villain you think you are, there's always going to be adventurers out there just waiting to loot your den. And when they loot your den, you become even more intent on destroying the world. So whats the answer? Well, we didn't find one today, but we sure made that lich look good. Bye for now Folks"


*Steps away*

Next Theme: Rambo
 


The scene: A necromancer's lair. Rambor the Barbarian is chained to an altar, with no shirt on. Enter the necromancer.

Necromancer: And now I shall torture you to discover the location of your companions. Shocking grasp!

Rambor (curling lip): Aargh. Stop.

Rambor rolls high, and bursts his chains.

Necromancer: What? No!

Rambor (curling lip): I'm gonna kill you.

Rambor grabs a (convenient) nearby bow and fires an arrow at the necromancer, who explodes. Hundreds of zombies, orcs, and assorted minions flood into the room. Rambor shoots them all.

Rambor (curling lip): Now I'm gonna kill my employer who set me up to be captured by the necromancer.

Rambor's player reaches for the dice, accidentally knocking over the mirror in front of him.

Rambor: DM? Where'd you go? Noooo!

Not that Rambo wasn't a cinematographic masterpiece, but I've never actually seen it, so I had to extrapolate. Anyway, let the next conversation go in the style of... The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Bonus points should be awarded to someone who can figure out how to emulate the scene with the officer's gloves.
 

Bump.

Come on, people, are my schemes really too devious to penetrate? You can do it!

Oh, and I think this is the first time I've specifically bumped something. Huh.
 

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