Thursday, 10 November 2011

Well, that didn't pan out

You guessed it, we're still dungeon crawling our way through the Devil's Tower. We sneaked upstairs, fought a Madonna squad of monsters (they were re-enacting Vogue, we swear!), nearly blowing ourselves up in the process and then sneaked on through a maze. There were traps in that maze.

Slick and Reynard found a blade trap and tried to figure out how to jam it, but they were taking too long, so Sam decided to sneak off in another direction to do some investigating. There, he came across some bat men (well, they dropped on him from the ceiling, specifically), forcing the rest of the party nearby into attack mode.

Gunney used his newly found ray gun to help and blew off one of Sam's legs ... and then his guts, completely by mistake. Trying to use potions to bring him back to life, it didn't work out so well. Sam came back as a living dead (nearly a barf zombie - we really got our hopes up for a bit there) and clawed Gunney's guts out. Slick had to finish him off with a Greek Fire potion.

So now, we've lost two characters and thereby 40% of the party ... We're gonna cause Armageddon, aren't we?

Courtesy of Tuesday 8 November 2011's 1st Edition Deadlands adventure at Chimera.


Player 1: “We got hammered.”
Player 2: “Do you mean drunk or in the game?”
Player 3: “Only among roleplayers would that statement need clarification.”

“All the people who were really scared of roleplaying in the ‘80s, they were RIGHT.”

“One of those mail bags were my weight!”
“You’re gonna look like Conan.”

Player 1: “Did you know that on the 14th of December, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring came out a decade ago?”
Players 2-4: “Yes.”

Reynard: “I’m gonna have to keep sleeping through combat. Saves a lot of chips.”

“You looked like a traffic light, so I thought you’d finished.”

“I’m not going first this time!”
“YOU’RE the one with the flamethrower!”

GM: “How evil do I wanna be with this? Roll me Spirit.”
Slick: “Oh, that’s EVIL.”

“Do I have to make a Cognition roll just to make sure I can do a Cognition roll?”

“Watch out guys, they’re choreographed.”

GM: “All of them have a bio-claw.”
Slick (to Sam): “Quick, go and pretend you’re one of them! Strike a pose!”

Reynard: “I go in and shout, ‘KILL THEM!!’” (mimes mowing them down with flamethrower)
Player: “Subtle.”
Reynard: “Subtle don’t win gunfights.”

Player 1: “Dangling? Like junk? Which is good, because lizards don’t have junk.”
Player 2: “Well done.”
Player 1: “Well, we needed to work on the scrota.”
Player 3: “Have we achieved scrota?”
Player 2: “He just did.”
Player 3: “Well done, sir, for lowering the tone.”

“As long as we reach scrota, we can go home slightly embarrassed.”

“I kept thinking ‘What do you get with nine cards?’ and all I could think of was ‘Syphilis’.”

“Name ONE combat where we haven’t been hideously outnumbered!”

“Jeepers!”
“When did we officially enter Scooby Doo?”

“So, what are the rules for player killing?”

(After super potion soaker ray gun thingamajig exploded, injuring half the party)
Slick: “Well, that didn’t pan out.”
Sam (badly injured): “DIDN’T PAN OUT?!”

“No, he WANTS to die spectacularly.”
“I’ll keep him alive against his will.”
“Like the British government.”

Player 1: “He’ll roll eight, eight, eight, eight …”
(GM open-ends twice by getting two eight on a d8 damage roll)
Player 2: “WHY do you do this? You know you keep prophesising dice rolls!”
Player 1: “Because it’s funnier that way!”

(To the other table) “Why do we game here next to you?!”

“That’s the first time I’ve not failed a reliability roll for some time. I should re-roll.”

Sam: “That’s not how you shoot someone! THIS is how you shoot someone!”
Player: “You’re definitely gonna miss now; that was way too cool to be a hit.”

“A roleplaying game is not a democracy; it’s a tyranny with five frightened people.”

“Do what every democracy/tyranny does when the need arises – roll dice.”

“I’ve been on fire a lot this evening.”

Mary: “Lucky and I go way back. We molested dressmakers together.”

“Dude, Jewish mysticism is called Kabbalah.”
“We’re talking Jewish penises, not Kabbalah. Circumcision, not mysticism.”

GM: “The bars have probably melted a little.”
Player: “That’s not good; they’ve got hand-to-hand combat.”

“Forgive this man, he only speaks in 1337 speak.”

“No one’s above prison rape!”

Gunney: “Can I get an armour level just for geriatrics?”

GM: “Mary’s doing things priests do best.”
Player: “Preaching like a hooker?”
GM: “Touching people.”

Reynard: “I AM skilled in Demolition … now.”

“We’re waiting for the demolitions expert to come back to the table.”
“We’re basically on a commercial break.”

“He pulled on a bar and it came away in his hand.”

“I love late night roleplaying!”

“Keep it in, B, this is tantric punning.”

“Death by anti-punning.”
“Death by blatancy.”

“Now that we’ve finished Carry On Deadlands, can we move on with the plot?”

Sam: “I can’t just bend it; I need to pull it off.”
GM: “It comes away in your hand.”
Sam: “Such a weak bar.”

Slick: “I tuck the claw in the bandolier.”
Player: “This is gonna end well.”

“You’re not gonna stop this Carry On until one of you have got that thing soldered to your wang, will you?”

Player: “Can I have an extra bounty point for not being pedantic?”
GM: “Yes.”
Player: “Yay!”

“I don’t trust this corridor; I think it’s sneaking up on us.”

“You found a trap?”
“Yeah, by standing on it.”

Gunney: “I have a ray gun. Suck my slightly geriatric penis.”

“I need to set an entire roleplaying game in a nursing home. It would be epic.”

“I play World of Darkness and I don’t have enough dice?!”

“TAKE BIRTHDAY DICE TO THE STOMACH, MOTHERFUCKER!”

Slick: “Alright. But it didn’t hit me?”
GM: “No.”
Slick: “Why not?”

Slick: “Mr. Gunderson, remind me not to annoy you ever again.”
Gunney: “Damn straight.”

GM: “Who’s going behind him?”
Player: “Not me anymore. I didn’t like it.”

“Now we’re a PROPER D&D party.”

“I’m whistling a suitable Confederate tune.”
“As opposed to The Great Escape theme.”

“That’s a Crunchie with AIDS.”

“I’ll give you three dice to eat it.”
“That’s unfair meta-gaming.”

“We need something to block this blade and jam it. Whose is this dog?”

Player 1: “I’ll use my ten-foot pole.”
GM: “You haven’t found one yet.”
Player 2: “What kind of dungeon is this?!”
GM: “What you need to ask yourself is what kind of DUNGEONEERS are these.”

“What if a Jew was reincarnated as a Neo-Nazi?”
“He’d be a Buddhist.”

“Don’t worry about the monsters; we’ll damage ourselves.”

“They call you Lucky; it’s time to prove it.”

“Send Jackie through.”
“Good idea, he won’t kill her, she has plot armour.”

GM: “What time is it?”
Player: “Nine twenty.”
GM: “That’s okay, we’ll have the first party death and then call it there.”

Mary: “I’m not liking the sound of this.”
Sam: “You’ll be fine.”
Slick: “Oh no, you’re a horrible person.”
Sam: “Because I said she’ll be fine?”
Slick: “Yeah, because it means bad things are gonna happen!”

“What setting’s it on?”
“I don’t get that it has settings aside from ‘BLAMM’!”

“6d6 damage? Yay, we’ve got sponsorship in!”

“Future wench to the rescue!”

“Well, I had a gut feeling it wouldn’t work.”
“I might kill you next.”

“Saved by walrus ding-dongs!”
“And yet you MOCK THEM.”

Gunney: “Given my Cognition check, I probably think I winged one.”

“I don’t think that’s what Gary Gygax had in mind when he created D&D.”

“I was sure if I rolled 2d6 I was gonna be all right.”

“That was a failed attempt at a Gibbs slap.”

Slick: “You were thinking of other potions, weren’t you?” (throws hat on the floor)

(Having fed Sam a Rejuvication potion and need to move him to get it into his system)
Gunney: “Dance, Sam! Dance for your life!”

“Can I roll Vigor to stimulate him?”
“You want to stimulate a corpse?”

Gunney (to Slick): “So I shot him and you made a potion that killed him.”

“At least you got style with your death.”

Reynard (after the two potions we had failed): “I’m not buying Rejuvication potions again!”

(Sees Sam “coming around” and decides to place the blame on someone else)
Gunney: “Sam! They had laser guns and ambushed us!”

Mary: “He’s gonna be a barf zombie, isn’t he?”
Slick: “I get out my Geiger counter.”

“I get to kill a player! I haven’t done this in years!”

“You killed each other.”
“Well, there’s a kind of beauty to it.”

Slick: “Mr. Harrison, I’d be lying if I said I won’t enjoy this.” (throws a Greek Fire potion)

GM (to zombie Sam): “You walk forward. You fall over.”
Gunney: “Yes! I saved the party posthumously!”

“Best game ever!”
“Worst party ever! How are we ever gonna save the world?”
“We won’t; we’ll cause Hell on Earth!”

GM: “Gunney is reincarnated as Scraps.”
Player: “Does that mean the dog’s gonna have to walk really slowly now?”

“If you’re gonna kill someone, kill them in the right place.”

Mary took time out of her busy NaNoWriMo-ing to write up a couple of obituaries for the dearly departed: Sam and Gunney. She assures everyone that they are 100% accurate and should anyone raise so much as an eyebrow in question of their validity, she'll shoot them in the balls. (We have a scrota to consider, after all.)

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