Tell me about your Total Party Kills

[clockworkjoe]

That you either GMed or played in.

I'll start with the TPK I was in tonight.

We're playing through the Mud Sorcerer's Tomb, from Dungeon #37 converted to 3E.

The party is:

Mortus (me), a level 10 gnome illusionist with psuedodragon familiar, Mifune

Norman, level 10 kobold thief

Drew, level 8 Sauriel (dunno which type) cleric

Chris, a level 10 gnome bard

Ranger Bob, Mortus's level 6 skaven ranger cohort. Skaven = slithereen from Scarred Lands

Ed, a level 10 human psion/constructor (dunnow what the level breakdown was)

The setup is like this:

We're in the tomb. We can't teleport out, nor can we use clairvoyance to scout for rooms. We come to a large room with a pool of water in the center and a platform in the center of the pool. There is also a canal of water leading out of the room.

The canal's opening begins at the floor and is about 6 feet deep, water rising to 3 inches below the top. Ed scouts out the canal and finds it opens up to another room with another pool. This pool holds a corpse in it. The other players remain in the larger room.

This is when the bad thing happens.

Ed is possessed by a ghost. (rolled a 2 on the will save) He immediately begins to summon astral constructs to kill us all while he stays back. When the constructs attack, Mortus attempts to throw up a stoneskin. It fails and an ooze elemental appears, although we think it's a black pudding.

We learn later that casting earth or water based spells have a % chance of summoning these elementals that try to kill the caster.

Astral constructs start piling up, and I am grappled by one. The cleric and ranger bob are overwhelmed by the constructs but valiantly fight them off. Mifune flies above his master's head and uses a ring of the ram to attack the construct holding mortus.

Chris turns himself invisible with an improved invisibility and then hastes the other party members. Mortus finally remembers the ioun stone holding a kiss of the vampire spell (from magic of faerun) and uses it. However, before he can gaseous form and escape, the ooze elemental slays him and dissolves his body (and all of his gear) entirely. The elemental then disappears.

Norman decides to get rid of the psion before he summons an entire army of constructs. He tumbles through the melee, drinks a potion of spider climbing to cling to the canal's walls and then sneaks up to the psion. Norman successfully sneaks right next to Ed and decides to permanently take care of the problem.

The kobold detonates an entire necklace of fireballs. He had only used 1 fireball before. It totals to 60d6 worth of damage. Ed is absolutely dead. Norman, thanks to his evasion, has taken no damage.

The constructs remain after Ed's death.

The ghost then takes over Norman.

By this time, the cleric and bard are fighting side by side while Ranger Bob is shooting constructs with a longbow. The kobold sneak attacks the cleric, but is paralyzed by a hold monster spell from the bard. Later, a construct kills the thief.

The cleric is taken over by the ghost. By this point, Bob and Mifune have fled the scene. The cleric chases Bob while the constructs chase the cleric. The constructs can only hit the cleric on a natural 20 so the cleric ignores them.

Ranger Bob flees to a small room with a stout door where he can spike himself in. This room held a small girl before seemingly under a strange spell, and Bob believes that the girl may hold information needed to escape the dungeon.

The girl is in reality a hag and quickly rips the skaven to pieces.

The cleric is forced to kill himself by the ghost. Only the ex familiar with a ring of the ram and the gnomish bard are left for now to contemplate what few choices they have left in the dark. Silence reclaims the tomb and its few inhabitants resettle to wait for the next band of adventurers to walk its corridors.

---

So how bout you?

 

[Kraedin]

Dramatis Personae:

Fladnag: Human Wizard
Michael: Lantern Archon Paladin <- Me.
Name Unknown: Elven Ranger
Name Unknown: Dwarven Rogue

We were exploring a ruined tower for some reason.

On the first level, we encountered imps and quasits. One of them had a dexterity draining poison, paralyzing the dwarf. After defeating the quasits and imps, we decided to leave the rogue behind while we explored further. (The tower was very linear, so we were certain that anything that wanted to attack the dwarf would have to get through us.)

The wizard cast had previously cast invisibility and fly. The battle with the demons and devils, of course, ended his invisibility spell. Forgetting this, he decides to scout ahead in a large room we entered, moving along the celing. As he reached the far end of the room (outside of the range of our vision), he was attacked by a minotaur vampire, which came in through the walls in gaseous form. He was criticaly hit, twice, by the vampiric minotaur, dealing massive damage and draining 8 levels. He was an 8th level wizard. Splat.

The minotaur then retreated into the walls.

As we advanced down the room to see what had happened, the minotaur again uses gaseous form to attack us from behind, heavily injuring the elven ranger. After taking heavy damage, he retreated in gaseous form to heal himself.

After about 30-40 seconds, he returned, finishing off the ranger, and again fading away. This leave the lantern archon and the paralyzed rogue as the only living members of the party.

I attempted to make a astute withdrawl. During my retreat, I found that the vampire had killed the rogue by draining his blood.

At this point, the vampire again attacked. Realizing that I was about to die (~5 hp left), I took a five-foot step back, and attempted to use teleport without error to a familiar sanctuary. There was a 1% chance of a teleportation failure. I roll the dice. Crap.

There goes the lantern archon.

 

[Agback]

G'day

My best TPK was in a one-off adventure that I ran when a group of friends of one of my players was visiting (from Newcastle). I set the scene in England in the Summer of 1939, and asked people to generate characters who might be invited to a weekend at a the country house of a baronet who was known for his interest in folklore, and who had a son at Oxford and a son at Eton. But I forbade anyone to play an able-bodied man under forty. So my party consisted of an Oxford don, the lady Secretary of the Folklore Society, an elderly curator from the Portsmouth Naval Museum, a young lady, and two schoolboys.

At the end of July 1939 the PCs were asked to Bretwalda Hall in Cheshire for a weekend party, guests either of Sir Edward Pender, of his daughter Edwina, or of his second son Edmund (just finished Sixth Form at Eton). Also present were Sir Edward's eldest son Alfred, and his guests Sir Oswald Mosley and Lady Diana Mosley.

On the Saturday night the Penders enacted an ancient family ritual of considerable interest to folklorists. When the Sun first touched the horizon Sir Edward started from the church in the village, running towards the Hall. The instant the Sun had completely set his sons set off after him. Unfortunately Sir Edward was a trifle too fifty-ish and portly: after being overtaken by both sons he had a heart attack and collapsed. Edmund turned back to help his father, but Alfred (then in the lead, but slowing) continued to the Hall and won the race. The PCs and Edmund carried the stricken baronet to his Hall, called the doctor, etc.

While Sir Edward lay dying the PCs stayed out of the way in the library and the muniments room, with Edmund, although plainly upset, doing his best to play the host. The history of the family and the Hall was very interesting, and the notable thing about it was there were several coincidences of date, years in which the head of the family had been killed in battle and the Hall had been damaged by tempest or fire. Such disasters had occurred in 1588, 1667, 1759, 1809, 1857, and 1916, and at other dates.

Despite everything the doctor could do, Sir Edward died at about midnight. At once the building began to shake, and presently there were terrible shouts and cries heard from basement. Pcs went down there, and in a crypt they found a stone sarcophagus eight feet long covered by a heavy stone lid carven with runes. The lid was slightly off-centre, leaving a gap through which mummified fingers were grasping: within the sarcophagus an ancient cadaver was raving obscenely in Old Welsh and gradually pushing the lid off its tomb. While the PCs tried desperately but futilely to put a stop to this, with Mosley shouting orders, Edmund fetched an old book and Alfred. Alfred, pale and shaking, performed a ritual in Mercian dialect. When this was done a set of special effects like those from 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' forced the mummy back into its tomb and shut the lid on its despairing wails.

The Oxford don character, a philologist, interpreted some of the carvings on the lid ot the sarcophagus as magical signs, and others as saying (in an early Anglo-Saxon dialect) "Artor Ursus, Prince of Gwynnedd, Dux Brittannorum". END OF TEASER.

CUT SCENE (MONTAGE): Germans invade Poland. Britain and France declare war. British Union of Fascists outlawed. Mosley arresteed and interned. German tanks roll through the Ardennes. France collapses. British Expeditionary Force surrounded on the beach at Dunkerque.

The adventure proper began one dark night in May 1940. German agents broke into the Portsmouth Naval Museum and destroyed Drake's Drum with an incendiary grenade.

To make a long story short, the PCs go to Bretwalda Hall, and find it garrisoned by sympathisers of Mosley's. They perform a break and enter with violence, but discover that no force at their disposal will open the sarcophagus. The search the library, then the muniments room, and find the book from which Sir Alfred read the ritual in a locked case. They break this open, and study the book to find an un-binding ritual. Unfortunately, this can only be effected by the person who cast the active binding. So they escape from the building, make a copy of the unbinding ritual, and mail the original book to Edmund (who is at Sandhurst).

Then they make enquiries and discover that Sir Alfred Pender is holidaying in Italy (which is not at war with Britain then). So they pack their bags and pocket their passports and fly to Italy. Their enquiries attract attention, and they have to shoot some mysterious Ities, but they discover that Sir Alfred has in fact secretly crossed the border into what used to be Austria, and is staying in a schloss guarded by SS types. They infiltrate, but have to shoot a few SS goons. At this point they split up, leaving the schoolboys and the young lady to hold the gates of the keep against the SS, while the curator, the don, and the lady secretary press on to find Sir Alfred. The don and the curator cap a couple of SS types, but the don is mortally wounded. And it turns out that Sir Alfred is not a prisoner, but a guest being put up in ease and comfort. Meanwhile the attacking Germans have managed to set fire to the building, and the young lady and the surviving schoolboy (both wounded) are forced to make their way upstairs. The lady secretary begs Sir Alfred to speak the unbinding ritual, but the traitor refuses. He makes to jump out the window (into a blanket being held by a bunch of Germans in the courtyard), so the lady secretary shoots him three times with her father's Webley.

The party now find themselves in a burning donjon, and to escape the flames they climb, jump, and lower their wounded down the well. At the bottom they find themselves in an underground stream or flooded cave. At first it is as black as pitch, and the water achingly cold. But as they begin to fail Constitution rolls they gradually grow warm, and see, drifting calmly across the jet-black waters to their rescue, draped in shimmering samite, a barge bearing three fairy queens.

TPK

Regards,


Agback

 

[The Forsaken One]

I had my first TPK ever, as DM last night.

It run a 6th level CoC game and the players driver couldn't avoid another car that was aiming to hit them.

Crash, 8d6 dam for everyone.

3 people died from massive dam, 1 KO, 1 concious.

Concious guy got taken over by the monstrous surviving driver of the other car (damn that bludgeoning DR 30/- and standard DR 10/- vs all other things). Well what happened to the KO dude.. you can guess.

So that was quick and it shocked us all when it just ended like this... But well we rolled up new chars and I inserted them in the adventure as total new people, different roles and angles about 1.5 chapters ahead in the campaign.

They don't seem to mind that much, 2 people were kinda attached to the chars (thank god ) but now they're ready to hook on in the campaign and get it on!

 

[CmdrSam]

Dramatis Personae:
Fladnag: Human Wizard

This character deserved every bad thing he got and then some, just for having that name.

--Sam L-L

 

[Fenes 2]

If you think that name is bad, one new player wanted to have a cleric in an egyptian-styled campaign with a name of "Mr. J. Jackson".

 

[clark411]

Here's a Story

Here's the story of my first (and only) TPK. As a critical note- Raise Dead and the like are virtually impossible in my game. Souls cannot return to imcomplete or overly damaged bodies (they can, but then the person dies almost instantly again from the lack of wholeness and pain). There were no pretentions about running to the temple to be revived through any part of the campaign.

Our actors are:
Kerim (Halfling Rogue)
Lucien (Human Wizard)
Haldir (Human Cleric)
"Dwarf" (Dwarf Fighter)


The four were walking through the busy streets of Dumot Penn, one of the few remaining Free Cities, seeking out an individual they believed to be a secret menace. This menace, a man named Dagron, had been in constant contact with the group since the early days of the campaign, seemingly always one step ahead of the party. Now there was rumor that he was gathering men from the local taverns and offering large sums of money in exchange for their services as a personal guard. This naturally piqued the curiosity of the group, who then proceeded to gather information in the markets and taverns of the city.

Haldir, by some luck (unluck, if truth be told), encountered exactly the right people to find information about this personal guard, in the form of two men who were buying entire carts of food from the farmer's square. He approached them and addressed them by asking if they knew anything of Dagron's plans to build an army. The two, one a bear of a man, the other a lithe man with a patrician nose, turned to confront him- thinking him a poor spy or snoop. Being a man confident in his prowess on field and in sermon, Haldir refused to explain himself-- that he wanted to know what they knew was sufficient for them to acquiesce and speak- or so his manner seemed.

Regardless, it was enough to result in the bear of a man grabbing him, and the lithe one disarming him, suggesting they continue the conversation behind closed doors. Realizing the danger he had placed himself in, and noting the loss of his family spear, Haldir felt a surge of strength ripple through his body, enough to overpower his massive captor. He called for aid, and within seconds all but the Dwarf (who was busy "sampling" at the beer tents and playing "gold bites" [competing dwarves bite a coin, estimating the purity of its metal]). A fierce battle ensues, with a sound blast sending nearby peasants to the ground, their ears bleeding. Severe wounds are given to both sides, and eventually the lithe man bids his companion to retreat as he runs into the crowd.

I figure it's a good fight, they learned that their foes are tough, and were able to give them a solid fight that could have, given less luck on either side, result in death. What I do forget, is to have the lithe man drop the spear in his haste to leave. What started as a brawl to introduce two later acquaintances (friend or foe depending) became a man-hunt on the part of the heroes, who quickly assembled a team of horses and chased them across the countryside.

On the second night, they approached the camp of the brute and the well.. rogue. The halfling rogue snuck into position 30 feet from their campfire, while the wizard hid with the dwarf in the grass ready to cast fireball at a moments notice. A plan worthy of merit.... until the final stroke. The cleric would parley. Perhaps this would work, I thought- he could be diplomatic if he opted to be.

So, the cleric approached the camp at night, calling to the two men, who rose with weapons at the ready in case of attack. They ask who he is and what his business is. He tells them he wants his spear back. They laugh at his uneven deal- something for nothing. He retorts stating his friends lie in wait, angering the bear of a man (for he demands charity with the threat of bloodshed). In fact he gets very mad- mad enough to charge.

The poor cleric is attacked by the barbarian/fighter. Inits are then rolled, and it is not ideal. the barbarian gets a swing in. the wizard chants and slams the two enemies with a fireball (the rogue evades, the barbarian hurts). The enemy rogue, unfortunately, had for his treasure roll a wand of fireballs. He opted to return the favor- wounding both the dwarf and the wizard (neither of whom moved much after casting the spell). The halfling rogue tossed a dagger, but his element of surprise was so far gone that he did not qualify for a sneak attack. The cleric matched blows with the barbarian, and the dwarven fighter charged the barbarian as well.

Several rounds pass.

Both sides are terribly injured. The halfling rogue has an AC from hell that makes him Matrix Neo from the enemy rogue's rapier. The cleric manages to throw some healing and mace hits, but is the first to fall to the ground bleeding out. The two enemies use flanking tactics to move down the row, then taking out the dwarf. The wizard casts a few spells, then takes one hit from the speedy, raging barbarian, and falls down bleeding out. The halfling rogue manages to knock the barbarian down to -1... which then drops his rage, instantly killing him as his adrenaline gives way to instant death from the shock of numerous deep wounds.

Two rogues are left standing on the field. The barbarian is dead, the others are making stabilization checks each round. They take two rounds to fight each other, and the halfling learns painfully that 1d6+1 can outdo 1d4+1 in a game of attrition. The enemy rogue offers an equal draw. Both of them cease their fighting and carry their wounded off field to heal them and live another day. The halfling rogue agrees, but demands the spear back as well. A round passes, stabilization checks all fail. The enemy rogue derides this idea, demanding that none gain anything from this combat, save their lives. Equal loss, equal gain- both none in measure if the gods be with them. The halfling again states that he will not leave the fight without the spear. The lithe enemy rogue (and me) sigh at the stubborness and says something to the effect of "Your choice" and continues the fighting for another round. Ten paces behind them, the dwarf dies that round.

Metagaming a bit (since the rogue isn't *that* roguey to see the dwarf die behind him) pauses his fighting and Again offers to end the fighting. The rogue, standing with the dying Wizard and the dead barbarian behind him, again, refuses. The round passes, and the cleric goes from -9 to -10. Bye bye cleric. Disgusted at this whole affair (and the resilience of this halfling who is avoiding and withstanding quite a beating) the rogue quickly reaches for his belt, stepping out of melee range.

He procures the Wand of fireball, aims it just over the shoulder of the halfling and from bloodied lips rasps cruelly "Well Garago (his barbarian companion)... I never really liked you anyway," and then sends the bead past the rogue, instantly slaying the wizard, charring the already dead barbarian (into the -30's), and completely unphasing the halfling rogue who, while failing to evade it, enjoys a good deal of Fire Resistance that was unknown to anyone but him.

Angrily, the halfling pushed his attack. The next round the halfling was felled by his foe's rapier, and died at his feet.


And that was my first and only TPK. Amazingly enough, it was my fault- as the enemies were too tough. At least, that's what I heard from the players- joking or not. I of course, begged to differ. As a player in other games, I took away from this whole ordeal a kind of human side to it... none of my characters will ever refuse to stop fighting if he can save one of his friends. I just picture lying in a field of grass, with an arm clutching the moist heat of a sword wound, looking through hazy sight as I fade to death while my last companion refuses to yield. Gives me chills to imagine it!

Cheerio!

 

[NiTessine]

Well, there was this one evil campaign we played... The characters were a gold elf wizard, a human sorcerer, a half-elf ranger, and a human cleric of Bane.

So, we came back from a mission. We had to get this magic thingy for some minor nobleman, who was supposed to give us lots of gold.

Of course, the bastard tried to doublecross us, and that's where things started going downhill. We killed the man's guards when they attacked us, and then brutally murdered his butler. And his wife. We planned to smuggle the nobleman himself south, to Calimshan, where we'd sell him as a slave for three coppers. It's amazing what lengths people are ready to go to, just for vengeance.

Of course, we never got that far. We were looting and pillaging in the manor, and came to a room, with the nobleman's brother sleeping in it. So, the Banite cleric (I still haven't forgiven him) picks him up and starts smacking him about. The guy shakes the cleric off, bounds across the room, and takes his magical sword and magical shield, with the symbol of Tyr on it. This guy's a friggin' paladin!

At this time, the ranger was downstairs, and couldn't get to help us. So, after a few rounds of combat, the paladin is injured from the spells me (the elf wizard) and the sorcerer threw at him, and the Banite is bleeding on the floor. Then, the paladin charged and took out the sorcerer with a single attack. I cast a spell from BoEMII that turned my hand into a blade, and attacked him. I wounded him, he killed me.

Then, the ranged came in. He and the palading smacked each other about for a few rounds. The ranger falls to 0hp. So, he takes that one last partial action, and attacks the paladin. And hits. And kills him. And dies himself nine rounds later.

None of us managed to stabilize. Total Party Kill.

But it was fun.

 

[Mr Fidgit]

i have this bad habit of TPKs lately...(but i'm not taking the blame for all them!)

the last one: party decides suicide is the best course of action. no spells left, all PCs are at half hit points or less, they decide to rush the BBEG. they get one whole round of action before the BBEG attacks. not one of the PCs can score a hit! BBEG starts attacking, TPK ensues...

the one before that: the first half of the Speaker in Dreams mod

SPOILERS!
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all party members get inflicted with lycanthropy from the wererats. no one in the party knows how to cure it (all Knowledge or related rolls are abysmally low), AND the church in town has been closed down (taken over by demons for part 2 of mod). add in one full moon, all PCs become NPCs; effective TPK


my first 3e game: party ambushes a black dragon (of equivalent CR). dragon's first breath weapon attack takes two party members out of the battle (didn't make their saves), and only one other party member can even hit the dragon (bad rolls again). end result - badly wounded dragon had PCs for lunch

 

[Henry]

I have never DM'ed a total party kill, but that was only because the last halfling standing, ran for his life.

Our very first third edition game, the party explored a ruined crypt, full of skeletons and zombies and ghouls, which I DM'ed. The party did not have a cleric, and I vastly underestimated the capabilities of the 3rd edition ghoul. They cleaned up quite a few zombies and skeletons, and fought valiantly, but the last PC standing was a halfling sorcerer. He ran for freedom, incurring three attacks of opportunity against three skeletons. With his 12 AC.

All three missed.

The halfling didn't stop running until he had put approximately two miles of distance between himself and the crypt.

Party rolled up all new PC's - including two clerics.