Have you ever laughed so hard while gaming you cried?

[fusangite]

TB's Champions campaign chronicling the exploits of a superteam known as the Justice Hurricane was like this every week. I was going through a really crappy time in my life and every week, I would travel by ferry from Victoria, BC to Vancouver, BC to play this game.

The game, our GM would remark, was originally designed to be like The Watchmen but, within a few weeks, had become The Tick. In one episode, our characters traveled to the Theocracy of North Dakota, ruled by our nemesis, Captain Piety. We attempted a diplomatic route and decided to have dinner with his henchman the Archangel Michael. We dined at the archangel's suburban home but became increasingly hostile as he kept stonewalling our questions. So, he threw us out.

Standing on the front lawn, infront of the Anchangel's house, we decided we were not going to take this guff so some of us headed back in. But, as usual, we did so in a completely uncoordinated way. So, while the one character with actual stealth abilities searched the house, several burst in and were soundly trounced by the Archangel and his sidekick, the Armoured Saint. My character, Brown Bear (a cyborg combination of an alien shape-shifter's body and the AI of a children's toy) sensibly decided to tunnel under the house and come up in the basement. But, by the time I had tunneled in, the Archangel had discovered and evicted the stealthy character and successfully defeated all the martial characters.

Emerging inside the semi-trashed house, my character discovered he was alone deprived both of backup and of any clear idea of what he'd gone in there for in the first place. So, being an intelligent bear, he bounded upstairs and consumed the entire contents of the Archangel's fridge before being evicted himself.

Then there was the awkward period where we all stood on the curb next to the Archangel's house (there were no sidewalks in his neighbourhood) and waited for a taxi to come and pick us up, while the Archangel and the Saint stood stoically on the now-ruined front lawn (thanks to my tunneling) to discourage any attempt to try our "plan" again. Not only had we failed to learn anything during our dinner conversation, we had turned up absolutely nothing in the house, our sole achievement being a permanent souring of relations with our former host. As the cab pulled up, mustering up all his dignity, one of our number walked up to Michael, placed his finger on his chest and declared, "Ya know -- if you'd have just 'fessed up, none of this, and I mean none of this would have happened."

 

[Centurion]

Elf kabobs

This occurred ages ago, while playing the classic 'Glacial Rift of the Frost Giants' (is that right? Can't recall the exact title) in the Against the Giants series. The party was making its way along the rocky ledge that boarded the aforemention glacier rift when coming to a narrow ice covered turn the DM called for what now a days would be a balance check but back then I think just a Dexterity Check (needed to roll equal to or below your Dex score on a d20). Everyone made it easily except of course the guy playing the uber agile elf fighter who rolled a '20' and slipped. Failing a second saving throw of somesort saw our agile elf slide cartwheeling over the edge, falling to his icy doom below.

The DM, had the player go roll up another charater while the rest of the party continued on, then ruled that the replacement character (also an ultra agile elf fighter) had been scouting our back trail and arrived late. The player declared he was hurrying to catch up to the party and promptly slipped on the same patch of ice and with another failed save ended up following his predecessor over the edge as well. Much merriement insued but that was one pissed player! Attempting to smooth things, the DM declared that replacement character had a twin brother and both had been scouting our back trail and had now just arrived.

The third elf approached to icy turn in the ledge with much trepidation. Declaring he was seeking handholds on the cliff wall next to him and moving with extreme caution as he transversed the cornor. The DM declared that only a 20 would result in a slip and as the player rolled everyone held their breath. Ahh the fickle die gods where not done with this sad player and he rolled a 20! You have got to be sh*ting me! the player declared, preparing to make his last desparate grab at a hand hold. The DM laughing with tears in his eyes granted a handsome bonus due to the last elf's cautious approach but he rolled and failed this final saving throw with something like a '2'! While the room broke up in laughter the player quit the game in a huff and left.

The rest of the party eventually settled down, that is until our later adventures found us down along the base of the cliff (fighting a remorazz I think) and happened upon a large icey stalagmite with three impaled elves on it! I still fondly remember the tears, spit coke and table pounding!

 

[fusangite]

The same group, playing D&D this time, was interrogating a captured NPC who, as was often the case, completely stonewalled us. My gnome sorceror, Ash Nazg Grimbatul, was more enraged than the rest and, with plenty of spell slots left for the day, charged a Shocking Grasp spell and moved, his hand sparkling menacingly, towards our captive. As threateningly as possible, I said something like "you want to see what happens to people who resist us?" He didn't budge. So I attacked him. I rolled a 1. Then I rolled a 1 again. But then, after the GM informed me that I had managed to touch my own chest first by mistake, I rolled maximum damage, reduced myself to negative hit points, and crumpled to the ground under a cloud of sparks.

Once I was healed back to consciousness, the NPC confessed. We had successfully convinced him that we were not the kind of people to be toyed with.

 

[Rel]

The same group, playing D&D this time, was interrogating a captured NPC who, as was often the case, completely stonewalled us. My gnome sorceror, Ash Nazg Grimbatul, was more enraged than the rest and, with plenty of spell slots left for the day, charged a Shocking Grasp spell and moved, his hand sparkling menacingly, towards our captive. As threateningly as possible, I said something like "you want to see what happens to people who resist us?" He didn't budge. So I attacked him. I rolled a 1. Then I rolled a 1 again. But then, after the GM informed me that I had managed to touch my own chest first by mistake, I rolled maximum damage, reduced myself to negative hit points, and crumpled to the ground under a cloud of sparks.

Once I was healed back to consciousness, the NPC confessed. We had successfully convinced him that we were not the kind of people to be toyed with.

I thought your earlier story was funny but this was the one that made me laugh out loud.

 

[Turanil]

This was in AD&D 2e. I really can't remember what I was playing, but it probably was a sort of Dragon Magazine uber-archer or what not.

During an important encounter at low level, I draw my bow and shoot an arrow. I roll the d20 to hit nicely and then take my d8 to see how much damage I inflict on the low-level foe. In those days, and at this low level, with a longbow you would probably only do 1d8 of damage plus maybe a +1 to +3 at best. Since the creatue was a 2 HD something, I had to roll high to slay it, and probably in with two arrows. So I roll my d8 and get a meek and miserable 1. Then I contemplate it obviously desperate, while in reality I was computing various bonuses of who-knows-what. Then I look at the DM and flatly says "9 points of damage."

One of the players burst laughing, and couldn't stop for maybe half an hour.

 

[fusangite]

I thought your earlier story was funny but this was the one that made me laugh out loud.

Thanks. Yours actually made me laugh the hardest of the ones posted so far. It recalled to mind a scene in a Planescape game in which one of the PCs "missed" a creature with a very high natural armour bonus and a very low touch AC. The GM informed the player that his blow, "dinks off his bony hide." Not as good as yours but suddenly recalled as I sat at the computer convulsed by your post.

 

[taliesin15]

after a year of college, went back to my high school town to play a mini-con fringe AD&D game with some old friends, and we were limited on time, so the gaming was fast-paced...I implemented some evil bunny men I read about in the dragon or somewhere, and was trying to roleplay them "you come to a clearing in the woods, and out from the bushes spring a dozen angry looking, menacing bunny-men, chafing their big front teeth on their lower lips like 'F! F! F!!!!'"

the players were bewildered at first at the idea of "menacing bunnies" for like ten seconds, then started guffawing, two of them bent over, eyes full of tears, me too, at this point...

and we couldn't even finish the game, we'd just break out gut-laughing...

time to go chase girls at the Mall tonight, fellas...

 

[shilsen]

As I'd posted on another thread, this happened this Saturday:

The DM of the group cancelled on Friday, so I offered to run a one-off game for the other players. They agreed and after rolling up 8th lvl PCs, went off to beat up some goblins. Cockily entering the goblin warren, they fought six garden variety CR 1/3 goblins (who actually managed to drop the druid's animal companion in a pit and drop half a rock wall on top of it). One of the poor goblins yelled an alarm, warning of intruders and asking to release the beasts and the ninjas. The players all stopped, looked at me and went "What?!" I calmly explained that the goblin had yelled for the gninjae, the dreaded goblin ninjas, barely managing to keep a straight face. After the requisite amount of laughing, we continued with the game, with the players/PCs muttering "gninja" and chuckling every once in a while.

And then they entered a large room full of unarmed goblins, including women and children. After the first shock, many of the goblins rushed towards them, begging not to be hurt. At which point, the dervish informed me that he was cutting the heads off the first three to touch him (since he had three attacks). He rolled thrice, cut down two goblins, and then I described how the third leaped over his blade, bounded up in the air, let out a martial arts yell, and kicked him in the crotch. At which point he rolled a "1" on his Fort save, causing his character's eyes to cross as he dropped his twin swords and grabbed himself. Then we took a break for a couple of minutes for the hysteria to end. And then the other gninjae proceeded to beat the crap out of him. Good times

 

[Foundry of Decay]

Goblin abuse

We've had several bizarre moments of maniacal fits of laughter.

The most recent was when the party were heading through a dingy lower level place of a massive tower city (More or less my take on Sharn), carefully avoiding striking/rioting orc foundry workers.

They came across a 'warforged' (more like a protocol droid) being chased by orc workers. The whirring warforged fled into an abandonned house, followed by orcs, and the party decided to help him.

Well, they made short work of those orcs, save one who fled back to gather more orcs to help. The party rested with the nervous warforged thanking them profusely. However before they could rest long, the second patrol of orcs showed up, meaner, greener, and angrier.

Well to be a bit more brief, it started with the door being blocked by the mage's firewall. The orcs get the bright idea to sneak around the outside of the building to a window, and enter there. The first orc trots around the corner quite merrily, out of site of his comrades.

When he got to the window, he was inconvenienced by the multiple arrows, bolts, magic missiles and thrown soul-knives of the ranged attackers in the party. Nearly every roll on the ranged attacks were criticals, and each of the fighter types had three attacks at this time.

The orc's comrades hear a brief girlish scream, followed by what sounded like a rain of soft-headed babies and watermellons, and then silence. One orc looked around the corner to find the smoldering lower half of the orc kneeling before the window.

Well, naturally this angred the other orcs, and two more made their way towards that window while the others tried to bypass the wall of fire at the now open doorway.

The first orc to the window was destroyed by 14 various missiles, making the one following him whimper and think about what he was doing. He decided to charge and leap through the window while the party reloaded and recharged.

Well, a great bellow went forth from the charging orc, and indeed he made it to the window, and stuck his head through, hands gripping the sill in hopes to launch himself into the room in a heroic way that would be sung by his people for generations.

It would have been heroic if his head wasn't lopped off by the Fighter PC standing next to the window with his sword drawn (The player rolled a 'death-crit'. Two 20's in a row and a confirming hit that instantly kills thugs in my campaign).

Well, we were all laughing and aching at this point, since there were three utterly destroyed orcs kneeling, laying, and half stuck through that one window.

However the tale doesn't end there.

The other two orcs trying to get through the wall of fire spell could hear the multiple screams followed by the meaty sounds of pulping from around the corner, and the orcish leader decided enough was enough. He circled the corner, and stalled after seeing the slaughter.

Well, he was a bit smarter, and decided to crawl over to the window, hoping to bypass it to get to another window nearby (and not covered by the group inside). He carefully started to crawl 'neath the window of dangly orc corpses when an urge hit him..

..One of those urges you get when you see a button marked 'do not touch!' but you know you have to push it anyway.

The orc leader, decided to take a quick peek inside, and a sudden *WALL* of missile fire blasted through him, annihilating him. This in turn caused the last orc (which was the only one to survive BOTH assaults on this house) to wet himself and go quite mad.

We had to have been laughing for at least 10 minutes without breathing. The house to this day is thought by the orcs to be haunted by the great god of destruction, and many gifts and sacrifices are left by that lonely window with the bones of their powerful comrades still pinned there by various arrows and bolts.

The gibbering mad orc was made a prophet, seeing that he was the only one that the house-of-hurt didn't disintigrate, and he's started a cult dedicated to death by arcitecture.

 

[Cannibal_Kender]

The Thief in our party finds a axe. Thinking its magical (he has no way to tell, and no wizard in the group), he takes the axe to the local bardic academy in the town the party was in. He walks into the common room where most of the bards are congregating, and thunks it down on a table. Raising his voice he says, "One hundred gold to the person who can tell me what this does."

The room goes completely silent. Finally one bard says tentatively, "Its an axe. You use it to cut down trees."