There are times when the only sane response is "kill all humans". Example...
The man I call Snorb (formerly the king of all ass-rabbits, but since demoted to ass of all rabbit-kings) has a local gaming group (run by a proudly obsolete D&D diehard, who forces the PCs to roll randomly for permission to interact with the plot). And since I'm out of work right now, I was invited to join. Session scheduled for today, at 6pm.
Hey, any gaming is better than no gaming, right?
I worked out my character concept in advance, got it approved by the DM, and advised her that I didn't actually have the rulebooks anymore, so I'd need to borrow hers to build my character out of. No problem, she says.
I get a call before Noon today, from Snorb, suggesting I come over sooner rather than later. And here I am assuming it's so that I can build my character before the game's timeslot actually starts. Or that perhaps the other players are there early, and a head-start is to be had.
No way in hell.
The DM isn't even there. She left a couple of old issues of D&D magazines for me to read, one of which was where she thought (but hadn't actually checked) the writeup of the Urban Ranger was, and the other including in one of its many articles some info I was expected to jump right to and read to discover what exactly my character's primary employer was up to.
Oops.
The "urban adventurers" article was suggestions for character backstories, and a few popularity-type Feats specific to urban environments. And the other one I couldn't even take a guess at which article she intended for me to read, as the cover story made no bloody connection at all to anything I'd worked out in advance.
So I sat there, and waited. For the DM to return home. So that I could ask what level she wanted me to build my ranger at.
Game time comes and goes, and there's nothing at all I can do but help babysit the three children (ages 11, 3, and 1) while I wait for the DM (whose cellphone is on the kitchen table this whole time) to return.
Eventually, the DM arrives and informs me that game is cancelled. Apparently, every single player (except myself, obviously) who didn't already live there wasn't coming. Oh, and it was a big surprise to her too, or so she claims.
A whole fucking day wasted. So that I could be an unpaid babysitter, under the false pretense of gaming.
But at that point I finally found out what level my character should be built at (7), and so I headed home to get some food.
Kill.
All.
Humans.
...it's the only way to be sure.
The man I call Snorb (formerly the king of all ass-rabbits, but since demoted to ass of all rabbit-kings) has a local gaming group (run by a proudly obsolete D&D diehard, who forces the PCs to roll randomly for permission to interact with the plot). And since I'm out of work right now, I was invited to join. Session scheduled for today, at 6pm.
Hey, any gaming is better than no gaming, right?
I worked out my character concept in advance, got it approved by the DM, and advised her that I didn't actually have the rulebooks anymore, so I'd need to borrow hers to build my character out of. No problem, she says.
I get a call before Noon today, from Snorb, suggesting I come over sooner rather than later. And here I am assuming it's so that I can build my character before the game's timeslot actually starts. Or that perhaps the other players are there early, and a head-start is to be had.
No way in hell.
The DM isn't even there. She left a couple of old issues of D&D magazines for me to read, one of which was where she thought (but hadn't actually checked) the writeup of the Urban Ranger was, and the other including in one of its many articles some info I was expected to jump right to and read to discover what exactly my character's primary employer was up to.
Oops.
The "urban adventurers" article was suggestions for character backstories, and a few popularity-type Feats specific to urban environments. And the other one I couldn't even take a guess at which article she intended for me to read, as the cover story made no bloody connection at all to anything I'd worked out in advance.
So I sat there, and waited. For the DM to return home. So that I could ask what level she wanted me to build my ranger at.
Game time comes and goes, and there's nothing at all I can do but help babysit the three children (ages 11, 3, and 1) while I wait for the DM (whose cellphone is on the kitchen table this whole time) to return.
Eventually, the DM arrives and informs me that game is cancelled. Apparently, every single player (except myself, obviously) who didn't already live there wasn't coming. Oh, and it was a big surprise to her too, or so she claims.
A whole fucking day wasted. So that I could be an unpaid babysitter, under the false pretense of gaming.
But at that point I finally found out what level my character should be built at (7), and so I headed home to get some food.
Kill.
All.
Humans.
...it's the only way to be sure.
remy:
Sometimes you just need to Force Choke a bitch.