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Message: <blockquote data-quote="demiurge1138" data-source="post: 4100322" data-attributes="member: 7451">One Christmas break, I sent out missives to all of my old players, gathered from the four corners of the globe from their colleges to spend a holiday at home. "I'm running a game of D&D," said I. "9th level characters. Make them as broken as you like. Bring a few spares."The lot gathered around the gaming table expectantly, chatting about how their dinosaur-riding charge-monkeys could Power Attack to their ACs and deal an average of 300 damage a round. I cleared my throat, and waited for everyone to settle down. "Welcome," said I, "to the Tomb of Horrors."And oh, the wailing and gnashing of teeth that was had. And a sickly grin like a waning crescent moon spread over my face.The charge-monkey was killed in one round by the Four-Armed Gargoyle. Half of the party fell for the corridor trap, and slid down the one-way express to Lava-Land. The full-plate wearing psychic warrior served as trapfinder, taking who-knows-how-many spears to the chest with stoicism, and when he was turned into a woman, he never told anybody and slept with her full-plate on. The party gathered monkeys from the surrounding swamps (I was inspired in my description of the Tomb from Hindu temples swarming with langurs and macaques) and used them to test portal-combinations. When they realized that the portals were stealing their treasure, they made booties for the monkeys and found out which ones lost them.It was glorious.Demiurge out.</blockquote>

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