Ah, yes, memories. Was going through some boxes of old stuff went out popped a few old modules. Including the Desert of Desolation series. Wife comes over to ask why I am doubled over in laughter. I go into the tale.......
Part of the adventure is a quest through a tomb in a classic Egyptian style pyramid. In front of the entrance are a pair of guards stationed by the local sultan to keep the innocent out. As the party encounters the guards they are surprised as the guards not only let them pass without conflict but offer to watch the party's mounts. As the party heads in they hear one guard say to the other, "10 silver at least one of them makes it out." "Done", says the other, "But this time we divide up the sale of the mounts evenly."
Shaking their heads the party, and the actual players head into the adventure.
Toward the end of the adventure there is a large picture on a wall of an obviously expensive and magical boat anchored to a cloud. One party member realises that the portrait is a portal and steps through in order to lay claim to the magical craft......
"Okay Dave, you step through the portrait portal only to find yourself in mid-air 10,000 feet straight up and beginning to fall.", says I with my maniacal DM 'gotcha grin'.
"Um, are you kidding me?", says Dave, in shock.
"Do I look like I'm kidding?", grin spreading even wider.
Panic ensues. I guesstimate that it will take about 2 minutes until impact. The player has his character guzzle every healing potion he can. Finally, the moment of impact. The character has 58 hitpoints and I am rolling 20d6 for terminal velocity. Now as a DM and the host of the game I lay claim to any orphan dice I run across which means most of my dice don't roll terribly high. Guess what? You got it, I roll 54 damage. Dave is ecstatic. He's dancing around, "I'm aliiiive, I'm ALiiiive!"
One technicallity. He has to roll a system shock roll or die from the shock of the massive blow. Having survived the impossible Dave is cocky. He needs to get 93% or less on the percentile dice. He rolls, the dice tumble. 95! Death.
"I'm aliiive, I'm ack, dead." Down goes the character. The two guards out in front, having watched the plunge, stagger and then death, turn to each other.
"Pay me. One made it out."
"Made it out means made it out alive, pal. You pay me."
"He DID make it out alive. He just didn't live for very long afterwards."
"I don't know, that's splitting hairs I think."
"What about the others? Whaddya say? Double or nothing?"
"Deal, lets go through that guy's pockets."
And, then the group had to stop for a 30 minute laughter break.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Pillowy Soft my @55 (pt 2)
The dice dropped and the game was on. My sorceress cast a spell. The rogue stealth checked a door. The tank put his armor on. The other mage (yes, roomie is a g.uy i.n r.eal l.ife and always plays a spell casting female human) screwed up on a spell and the other two set up to do their things when I saw it.
It being the changed expression on GM's face.
It being the bead of sweat on his forehead, slinking down the side of his face.
When IT happened.
He vaulted from the table and ran to the bathroom. *SLAM*
The other players and I looked at each other. Giggles erupted, but, as a group, we regained our composure. I went back to painting figs, Mono trying to distract me with his latest high jinks, and the rest of the group just waited.
GM returned. His face an interesting shade of crimson. I handed him the books he had dropped and we continued on.
For fifteen minutes.
He vaulted away again. *SLAM*
This scene repeated itself twice more, each time, we waited for his return.
Finally, GM swore, and grabbed a tray to take with him into the bathroom. There, he ran the game from behind closed doors on the porcelain throne. We could hear dice rolling. The evils we were attacking died. We smiled, laughed until we heard the cry...
"Pillowy Soft My @55!"
And thus ended the gaming session.
His test results turned out fine.
It being the changed expression on GM's face.
It being the bead of sweat on his forehead, slinking down the side of his face.
When IT happened.
He vaulted from the table and ran to the bathroom. *SLAM*
The other players and I looked at each other. Giggles erupted, but, as a group, we regained our composure. I went back to painting figs, Mono trying to distract me with his latest high jinks, and the rest of the group just waited.
GM returned. His face an interesting shade of crimson. I handed him the books he had dropped and we continued on.
For fifteen minutes.
He vaulted away again. *SLAM*
This scene repeated itself twice more, each time, we waited for his return.
Finally, GM swore, and grabbed a tray to take with him into the bathroom. There, he ran the game from behind closed doors on the porcelain throne. We could hear dice rolling. The evils we were attacking died. We smiled, laughed until we heard the cry...
"Pillowy Soft My @55!"
And thus ended the gaming session.
His test results turned out fine.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
We interrupt this blog for Swag!
I was at the local Ubuntu meetup and got a replacement Canonical disk, stickers and a lunchbag I think is going to end up either being a dice bag, a "purse" or a knitting bag. Not too sure just what yet.
Our kids' principal is thinking about switching at least one computer to Ubuntu after showing Mandriva and specifically GCompris educational software. I should have showed him the math software instead. He's asked to borrow my computer for an hour next week to see if a special ed student can use it and if they can, I know he's going to switch at least one desktop to Ubuntu!
Pillowy Soft My @55! (pt 1)
Years and years and years ago, GM was running a group of about 6 of us. I lived with a friend and GM would spend many days and nights with me, being my significant other and all. The gaming group consisted of his immediate supervisor at work, two coworkers, a pal of his, my roomie, and myself. We would walk down the stairs, out the door, walk 50 feet, into a small apartment complex, up the stairs and into the coworker's door. Total commute? 1 minute. 3 if we were dawdling.
GM's mother had passed away earlier that year from the harsh realities of fighting colon cancer and he was of an age where he needed to be tested. So, reading the instructions on the bottle, he believed that he could handle taking the liquid laxative prepping agent at the allotted time. (Hint: mix that little bottle with at least a litre of gingerale - it isn't palatable otherwise)
GM prepared his materials and proceeded down the stairs. I had warned him that the concoction when it hits hits hard. He didn't believe me.
One step.
Two steps.
On the third step, he suddenly turned around and I ended up ass over teakettle as the door to the bathroom slammed behind me. All I remember was the rather large blur bouncing off my shoulder. I sighed, and picked up the scattered pieces of his gaming supplies and tucked them in with mine.
Three minutes later, he appeared and made the attempt again. He got halfway down the stairs before reversing his course. I ducked out of his way. Roomie wasn't so lucky.
For the next half hour, roomie and I stood vigil and out of his way as repeated attempts to get down the stairs were made.
Finally, GM had me call and make arrangements. Roomie went down the stairs and held open his door. Coworker held open the door to his apartment building while his girl held open their apartment door.
If you have ever seen a 250lbs man make a bee-line for anything, you'll understand the blur that followed. Suddenly, GM threw open the bathroom door and ran, skipping stairs on the way down, just missing the roomie holding open the door, bouncing through the two parking lots, holding his hand out to use a pole to slingshot himself up the other set of stairs and finally careening off the walls to land in the coworker's bathroom.
I followed him as the dutiful girlfriend of the GM would, setting up his screen, his dice, handing out character sheets and more. The group sat down and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, he came out of the bathroom and we began to game.
GM's mother had passed away earlier that year from the harsh realities of fighting colon cancer and he was of an age where he needed to be tested. So, reading the instructions on the bottle, he believed that he could handle taking the liquid laxative prepping agent at the allotted time. (Hint: mix that little bottle with at least a litre of gingerale - it isn't palatable otherwise)
GM prepared his materials and proceeded down the stairs. I had warned him that the concoction when it hits hits hard. He didn't believe me.
One step.
Two steps.
On the third step, he suddenly turned around and I ended up ass over teakettle as the door to the bathroom slammed behind me. All I remember was the rather large blur bouncing off my shoulder. I sighed, and picked up the scattered pieces of his gaming supplies and tucked them in with mine.
Three minutes later, he appeared and made the attempt again. He got halfway down the stairs before reversing his course. I ducked out of his way. Roomie wasn't so lucky.
For the next half hour, roomie and I stood vigil and out of his way as repeated attempts to get down the stairs were made.
Finally, GM had me call and make arrangements. Roomie went down the stairs and held open his door. Coworker held open the door to his apartment building while his girl held open their apartment door.
If you have ever seen a 250lbs man make a bee-line for anything, you'll understand the blur that followed. Suddenly, GM threw open the bathroom door and ran, skipping stairs on the way down, just missing the roomie holding open the door, bouncing through the two parking lots, holding his hand out to use a pole to slingshot himself up the other set of stairs and finally careening off the walls to land in the coworker's bathroom.
I followed him as the dutiful girlfriend of the GM would, setting up his screen, his dice, handing out character sheets and more. The group sat down and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally, he came out of the bathroom and we began to game.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
The school supply list
Our middle child had an interesting item on her school supply list for kindergarten.
A pair of dice
A pair of dice. We puzzled over this question for a few days. Did the teacher mean a pair of dice with dots? Couldn't be that simple, could it?
Excursion time. Where else to go but to our friendly gaming shop, Imperial Hobbies.
Once there, our mini horde ran around the shop, GM was in his element and the drool factor kicked in. "Ooo, hunny, new Deadlands!" GM shouted out. I shook my head, ignoring the comics, books, ccgs, figs, brushes and paints while I corralled our kindergarten kid and brought her to the dice display. I had shown the staff her school supply list and they were more than willing to help me and they too were puzzled. Did the teacher mean d4s? d6s? d8s? d10s? d12s? d20s? d30s? d100? Percentiles? Ones shaped like crystals or "viking" dice that would roll forever? How about chaos dice? Direction dice? Events dice? Our kindergarten kid finally picked out her first set of polyhedrals pointing to a nice pinky set, because, of course, she's a girl and girls have to have pink. *maternal eyeroll*
We picked out a second d20 for her and bought her treasure. She had to have her own bag to carry her dice home in. Can you say "sibling jealousy?" I knew you could. Various cries of "where's mine" from both our preschooler and grade 2 kid made the trip home that much more treacherous. I need to find the stuffed dice we have for the preschooler - but that's another post. The 2nd grader will get his own, in time. I, too, managed to get out of there with a new d20 which has since dissapeared. GM went back in and splurged on a model rocket - yet another post.
Once at home, we went through the several pounds o' dice that GM has and added to her set so that she would have two of each type and a set of d6 with dots.
School started this week and she brought her dice with her. The teacher commented on the dice. "I meant just 'normal' dice like these" she said while pointing at the pile of giant d6s with dots in the basket tucked in the corner, "but those are good for more advance math."
"Did you want us to bring in a d30?" I chirped, "or how about a d100? We can get our hands on that too, but it'll take a week or more."
"They make those?"
I went on to describe some other dice types as I watched her eyes glaze over. She shook her head and looked at us, "maybe later in the year..."
Our kindergarten kid still has her dice tucked in her backpack, unlike her other supplies. I think the teacher's afraid of them for some reason. I don't really understand why... they're just dice.
A pair of dice
A pair of dice. We puzzled over this question for a few days. Did the teacher mean a pair of dice with dots? Couldn't be that simple, could it?
Excursion time. Where else to go but to our friendly gaming shop, Imperial Hobbies.
Once there, our mini horde ran around the shop, GM was in his element and the drool factor kicked in. "Ooo, hunny, new Deadlands!" GM shouted out. I shook my head, ignoring the comics, books, ccgs, figs, brushes and paints while I corralled our kindergarten kid and brought her to the dice display. I had shown the staff her school supply list and they were more than willing to help me and they too were puzzled. Did the teacher mean d4s? d6s? d8s? d10s? d12s? d20s? d30s? d100? Percentiles? Ones shaped like crystals or "viking" dice that would roll forever? How about chaos dice? Direction dice? Events dice? Our kindergarten kid finally picked out her first set of polyhedrals pointing to a nice pinky set, because, of course, she's a girl and girls have to have pink. *maternal eyeroll*
We picked out a second d20 for her and bought her treasure. She had to have her own bag to carry her dice home in. Can you say "sibling jealousy?" I knew you could. Various cries of "where's mine" from both our preschooler and grade 2 kid made the trip home that much more treacherous. I need to find the stuffed dice we have for the preschooler - but that's another post. The 2nd grader will get his own, in time. I, too, managed to get out of there with a new d20 which has since dissapeared. GM went back in and splurged on a model rocket - yet another post.
Once at home, we went through the several pounds o' dice that GM has and added to her set so that she would have two of each type and a set of d6 with dots.
School started this week and she brought her dice with her. The teacher commented on the dice. "I meant just 'normal' dice like these" she said while pointing at the pile of giant d6s with dots in the basket tucked in the corner, "but those are good for more advance math."
"Did you want us to bring in a d30?" I chirped, "or how about a d100? We can get our hands on that too, but it'll take a week or more."
"They make those?"
I went on to describe some other dice types as I watched her eyes glaze over. She shook her head and looked at us, "maybe later in the year..."
Our kindergarten kid still has her dice tucked in her backpack, unlike her other supplies. I think the teacher's afraid of them for some reason. I don't really understand why... they're just dice.
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