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What's the worst that could happen?

Summer-Knight925

First Post
You see it, at the end of the hallway there is a door. The fading light from your torch flickers off the subterranean walls of the cool, damp chamber. You go to reach for the door, when suddenly you stop. You think to yourself, "what's the worst that could happen?"


So, leaving this open ended, what is the worst thing that could happen behind this door?

Any genre of game, any game, any setting, anything.

Scifi, Fantasy, Horror, anything and everything is game.
 

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Opening the door causes a 10 ton block to fall, crushing anyone standing in the doorway. It then animates into an earth elemental that proceeds to dismember the remaining survivors.

Meanwhile activating the trap has set off an Alarm, which summons the complex's necromancer to the room, where he casts Animate Dead on your smashed remains. After helping the Earth elemental polish off the rest of your friends, you and your reanimated companions are drawn into the deeper complex to guard the necromancer's treasures for the remainder of your unlife. You stand unmoving in an ankle-deep pile of coins you will never get to appreciate...
 



Beyond is a room where a half dozen gamers sit around a table with all of their books and dice. They eagerly invite you to sit down and roll up a character.

But they never actually play the game. Most of them debate politics while the DM and the Rules Lawyer argue with each other. Meanwhile, you've been seated next to the most obnoxious and flatulent of the bunch who can't keep his hands to himself and keeps telling you stories about his character, Eldrizzter, who's somehow related to both Drizzt and Elminster and why he's 1000 times better than the character you just rolled up.

You keep trying to leave, but the obnoxious guy keeps wrapping his arms around you and saying "Come'on, stay just a bit longer!" while giving you a noogie.

The question is: You still have your torch lit, so what do you do?
 
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"As you reach for the doorknob it suddenly transforms into a white palm that in a sneering voice says: "Talk to the Hand".
 

An accountant, who points out a small error in every tax return you've ever filed. You have to redo them all, by hand, before you can continue.
 

Behind the door you find a chthonian horror of epic proportions. The mound of wriggling tentacles and blazing eyes mountains over a burning world which you vaguely identify as reality. It turns all of it's innumerable eyes at you, caresses every part of you (within and without) and raises you to see what the world has become. Finally it whispers to you, with a faint voice that vibrates with the memory of your parents: "You'll never become anything."
 


Into the Woods

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