So, there seems to be a lot of anger going on right now. In the spirit of defusing anger and getting everyone back to their core values of gaming and mocking poetry, I'm cross-posting a bit from my blog:
The Munchkin
(with apologies to Noyes; best experienced while listening to Loreena McKennitt's take on the original)
The kitchen was filled with pizza, and sodas cooled with ice,
The table was covered with gaming mats, with minis and with dice,
The gaming group was ready to kick some monstrous ass,
When the munchkin player came whining-
Whining, whining-
The muchkin player came whining about some prestige class.
His mount, an advanced displacer beast, had levels of monk and rogue;
It could shapechange into an elven lass, and he called her Kylie Minogue.
His +5 breastplate was mithral, like his animated tower shield,
Which he tried to release with Quick Draw-
Of course, he'd try for Quick Draw-
He tried to release with Quick Draw, so that he could dual-wield.
He wore a Ring of Protection, and a Ring of Blinking, too,
And a third ring worn on a Hand of Glory, which, sincerely, ew;
Then as the rest of the gaming group glared at his character sheet,
He drew out his elven thinblade-
His ghost-touch vorpal thinblade-
His admantine keen thinblade, and said, "Hey, aren't I l33t?"
He'd earned the sword in another game, the munchkin cried with glee,
After killing Cthulhu and Tiamat, and a dire tarrasque or three;
He said it was totally balanced, and not overpowered at all,
And the group then saw that the munchkin-
The truly annoying munchkin-
The splatbook-using munchkin was playing Monty Haul.
"I've got a dozen specialist feats, just look and see, it's true!
Like Greater Weapon Focus, and Specialization, too!
Improved and Power Critical both stack, the rulebooks say,
That's why I'll use my thinblade-
My ghost-touch vorpal thinblade-
My admantine keen thinblade, though hell should bar the way!"
Then the party entered a dungeon and found a room with a gem,
And the munchkin cried, "It's mine, it's mine!" and triggered a trap on them;
And a fireball burned everybody, and before all the blood had congealed,
The whiny complaining munchkin-
The totally uber munchkin-
The party-endangering munchkin was asking to be healed.
"You've screwed us, jerk!" cried the party, "and you could have at least used lube!"
But the munchkin only laughed and sneered, and tossed back, "Cry more, newb!
Just heal me up, and I'll lead us through this dungeon, and through worse,
And I only ask that the treasure-
The sweet sweet precious treasure-
The penis-embiggening treasure be mine to pick through first."
Then the DM gave him a steely glare, and yelled "Surprise attacks
From a half-dragon half-fiend werebear paragon frost giant with an ax!"
And the munchkin whined of Uncanny Dodge, and then he cried out in pain
As the giant sundered his thinblade-
His ghost-touch vorpal thinblade-
His admantine keen thinblade, and rent the sword in twain.
Then boiled, it did, did the munchkin's blood, and his eyes they flashed like ice,
As he railed at the DM's cruelty, and pelted him with dice;
Then he snapped the sword off his mini, and cast his books to the floor,
As the group pushed him from the table,
As they burned his sheet at the table,
As he turned his back on the table, the munchkin came no more.
Now the group has a good dynamic, since the munchkin's days are done;
There's a nice good mix of roleplaying and powergaming fun,
But there'll be no splatbook weapons at the table, for they say,
That if you dare use a thinblade-
A single elven thinblade-
That the munchkin will come for his thinblade, though hell should bar the way...
The Munchkin
(with apologies to Noyes; best experienced while listening to Loreena McKennitt's take on the original)
The kitchen was filled with pizza, and sodas cooled with ice,
The table was covered with gaming mats, with minis and with dice,
The gaming group was ready to kick some monstrous ass,
When the munchkin player came whining-
Whining, whining-
The muchkin player came whining about some prestige class.
His mount, an advanced displacer beast, had levels of monk and rogue;
It could shapechange into an elven lass, and he called her Kylie Minogue.
His +5 breastplate was mithral, like his animated tower shield,
Which he tried to release with Quick Draw-
Of course, he'd try for Quick Draw-
He tried to release with Quick Draw, so that he could dual-wield.
He wore a Ring of Protection, and a Ring of Blinking, too,
And a third ring worn on a Hand of Glory, which, sincerely, ew;
Then as the rest of the gaming group glared at his character sheet,
He drew out his elven thinblade-
His ghost-touch vorpal thinblade-
His admantine keen thinblade, and said, "Hey, aren't I l33t?"
He'd earned the sword in another game, the munchkin cried with glee,
After killing Cthulhu and Tiamat, and a dire tarrasque or three;
He said it was totally balanced, and not overpowered at all,
And the group then saw that the munchkin-
The truly annoying munchkin-
The splatbook-using munchkin was playing Monty Haul.
"I've got a dozen specialist feats, just look and see, it's true!
Like Greater Weapon Focus, and Specialization, too!
Improved and Power Critical both stack, the rulebooks say,
That's why I'll use my thinblade-
My ghost-touch vorpal thinblade-
My admantine keen thinblade, though hell should bar the way!"
Then the party entered a dungeon and found a room with a gem,
And the munchkin cried, "It's mine, it's mine!" and triggered a trap on them;
And a fireball burned everybody, and before all the blood had congealed,
The whiny complaining munchkin-
The totally uber munchkin-
The party-endangering munchkin was asking to be healed.
"You've screwed us, jerk!" cried the party, "and you could have at least used lube!"
But the munchkin only laughed and sneered, and tossed back, "Cry more, newb!
Just heal me up, and I'll lead us through this dungeon, and through worse,
And I only ask that the treasure-
The sweet sweet precious treasure-
The penis-embiggening treasure be mine to pick through first."
Then the DM gave him a steely glare, and yelled "Surprise attacks
From a half-dragon half-fiend werebear paragon frost giant with an ax!"
And the munchkin whined of Uncanny Dodge, and then he cried out in pain
As the giant sundered his thinblade-
His ghost-touch vorpal thinblade-
His admantine keen thinblade, and rent the sword in twain.
Then boiled, it did, did the munchkin's blood, and his eyes they flashed like ice,
As he railed at the DM's cruelty, and pelted him with dice;
Then he snapped the sword off his mini, and cast his books to the floor,
As the group pushed him from the table,
As they burned his sheet at the table,
As he turned his back on the table, the munchkin came no more.
Now the group has a good dynamic, since the munchkin's days are done;
There's a nice good mix of roleplaying and powergaming fun,
But there'll be no splatbook weapons at the table, for they say,
That if you dare use a thinblade-
A single elven thinblade-
That the munchkin will come for his thinblade, though hell should bar the way...
