my first kill as a GM happened last night. and the player wasn't even there. someone else was playing her character for her. they were fighting a giant anaconda. now you may notice from that link that this snake has Grab, which means it gets a free grapple check after a successful attack. and it also has Constrict, which means it does extra damage for free every time it does a grapple check. so an average round this thing was doing 60 damage or so. they're level 10, that's... tough but survivable. and then the snake crit. and then it rolled a crit to confirm the crit. and then the catfolk rogue 7/oracle 3 took 100 damage and died. i know some DMs love killing their PCs, but god, i feel terrible. mostly because she wasn't even there to see her character bite it. (we got the character resurrected, but GOD.)
alright i talked to the player, and she's totally fine with it. a little bummed she missed all the dramatics, but we're gonna do a short session tonight where we retcon the resurrection scene and let her play it out. her character is, as mentioned, currently a rogue 7/oracle 3, but she's gonna take the opportunity (and i'm allowing it) to go whole hog on the oracle levels. she's been searching for her kidnapped daughter, not really worrying too much about her methods... so she drew the attention of Nyarlthotep, a Great Old One, who liked her dedication to rooting out secrets. and also her murders. so we decided that when she died, and her soul was temporarily displaced from her body, Nyarlthotep was like "LOL MINE NOW" and stole all her rogue levels, leaving her a pure level 10 oracle. which, mechanically that's not how that's supposed to work, but whatever i'm the GM, it's my playground :D
OH! i forgot one of the sillier parts of the story. in roll20, you can name the maps you make. usually i call them something like "cyclops fight" or whatever. but for the snake fight, this is what i called it... MY ANACONDA DONT which ended up being a complete misnomer, because my anaconda absolutely did.
I need to Holler about the fancy magic weapon I got for Boss Battles because holy shit (Literally holy. Because all my fire is holy now.) Spoiler: math math math +5 Masterwork Quarterstaff Static: At will, wielder may set themself on fire for a number of rounds per day equal to 1/2 their level. (This may be extended by taking 1d6 dmg per extra round.) While on fire: Wielder is immune to all fire damage. +5AC, +10 spell resistance All fire damage wielder deals is doubled and causes Burning condition until extinguished; does not naturally burn out. All fire damage wielder deals is also considered holy damage. When held/in use: +5 to all rolls to overcome spell resistance; +25dmg to any fire-based spell damage (before modifiers); +3 to fortitude, will, and reflex saves. Wielder may at will absorb any non-Evil fire damage (heals hp equal to dmg that would be dealt). Wielder may at will ignite any item in contact with the staff. Burning Sanctuary: May at will produce a hollow sphere of swirling flame 10ft in diameter. The sphere has an AC of 75 and attempts to dispel it have a DC of 75. For 3 rounds, all who are inside are protected; if maintained past 3 rounds, occupants take damage equal to 10x, where x is (number of rounds since casting)-3. Solar Absorption: A number of times per day equal to (wielder's level)/2, may absorb any fire or shadow (dark-type or Evil-aligned) damage within close range (25ft+(5ft/2lv)). This works differently for higher-level beings created entirely of shadow, see DM for details. Ray of the Sun: A number of times per day equal to 1/4th the wielder's level, may cast a beam of solar light. The beam will penetrate any material not [super rare homebrew material, only 5 known items of this material exist]. The beam forms a straight line extending 400ft from the caster, dealing 500dmg (not subject to spell or damage resistance) to anything it pierces. Targets may make a Reflex save for half damage. [Maniacal firebug offense oracle cackling]
I got invited to play D&D recently and we had our first session on Tuesday! I've never done, like, verbal roleplaying before so at first I was suuuuper nervous but it got so, so fun. Can't wait for next time now! Spoiler: The Party! "Nothing" (Nuth, to her friends) - Tiefling warlock. Chaotic Neutral urchin, you're not her mom!! Local notorious troublemaker with a soft spot for fellow street kids - it's hard being a Demon Teen in a halfling town. She was dumped on the doorstep of the local church as a baby and ran away by the age of 10 because, you know, screw being treated like Sin Incarnate just 'cause of the horns and the tail. Does a lot of petty stealing, but only for survival. This one's me! Faeleth - Wood Elf rogue. Lawful Neutral thief and part-time assassin. Deadpan snarkmaster with trust issues and a tragic past. She spite-steals from the rich, gives to the poor, and figures helping nobles screw eachother over via hired murder is pretty win-win. She's actually pretty anti-murder in the great scheme of things - assassinating for nobles is literally just a job that pays super, super well. (This is @inchwyrm!) She literally always takes something if she's in a noble house. Even if it's just a fancy spoon, she Gotta Take cos screw those guys. Holgar - Dwavern barbarian. Don't know his alignment, don't know much other than that he's trying to get his family back from the clutches of someone. His player wasn't at our initial pre-game sheet creation meeting, haha. Handy with a club. Spindleshanks - Dark Gnome druid. Definitely Chaotic something! Feral kid, raised by bobcats, doesn't speak perfect Common or fully grasp appropriate social conduct but does take kindly to scritches behind the ears. Acts first, thinks much later. Spoiler: The Story So Far! We....met in jail. Nothing practically has the tiny local jail as a house, she's in and out so often! She's in for stealing food for her tiny motley crew of runaways. AGAIN. Faeleth made the mistake of stealing a noteworthy item from a well-known noble in a close-knit halfling town where everyone knows everyone and recognises everything. Especially that distinctive fancy bit of jewellery. Hogar heard some drunk dude start making dwarf jokes in the local tavern and got very, um, brawly about it. To be fair, 'Lol, u scared you're gonna fall into the sky?' is pretty tasteless. Spindleshanks wandered into town and didn't quite grasp that market stalls with food on need payment if you're going to start scarfing down the food. So we all got taken before the court by a pretty chill little halfling guy called Alfred (Alf, to Nothing! we go way back) and we get just, the worst news. We're all being sentenced to Proper Jail Time, in a larger city, for like 6 months, which particularly sucks for Nothing because she's used to wrist-slaps and a free bed for the night. But just as the magistrate comes to bring down his gavel, a local nobledude bursts in (unusual!) demands to talk in the back room (very unusual!) and when they come out again...there's a Situation. The fancy district (actually just like, three houses) has a Big Nasty Lizard Problem. So you know what? All this drama puts a spanner in the works a bit, so. Community service. That'll do us. Go take care of the Big Nasty Lizards plaguing the noblefolk's plumbing, and he'll call it even and hope never to see us in here again. We do that! Alf lets us pick our gear back up so we're lizard-ready. He literally just lets Nothing go fetch the jailhouse spare key from under the doorstep flowerpot (he's long since taken to letting her let herself in on cold nights) - "You know where they are, Nuth, don't you?" - and we all go grab our stuff. Alf tries to make small talk with the folks who aren't me, hear their story, and mainly gets met with Faeleth's "what's it to you?" wary recalcitrance and a very laconic explanation from Holgar. We go into the sewers...and Alf sort of hangs back, even though he was meant to chaperone us, because we've all got darkvision and he doesn't and also Alf is clearly sort of bricking it about these lizards and would much rather leave us to it. Hogar tries to yell at these lizards because searching the surrounds isn't yeilding much useful information! "Get out and fight, you scaley bastards!" comes out as a hungover mumble-shout. Faeleth takes some degree of pity and tries to save him the shame of that pathetic exclamation by joining in with the yelling, and the first natural 20 of the game results in just this amazing, compelling sharp command and they just scuttle on out. We hear, just behind the scuttling, a very distinct THUD. Roll initiative! Lots of stabbing, blasting, and clubbing occurs. But not before Spindle drops a cloud of fog on the corridor, obscuring the lizards' view of us....and ours of them. (Nothing and Faeleth DO get in a sweet synchronised attack with their respective crossbows, though, and it's sick af. Nuth also drops her crossbow on the floor to switch out for daggers and through a minor miracle the crossbow reholsters itself and reloads.) Welp. The rest of the fight goes on in this horrible haze. Spindle's attempts to get in the fray are met almost exclusively with crushing failure - trying to slide between Holgar's legs all Indiana Jones nets Hogar a very unpleasant assfull of gnome face, and Spindle a very unpleasant facefull of dwarf ass. He does a lot of ineffective stabbing with a scimitar roughly the size of a kitchen knife. Nothing fires off a bunch of Eldritch Blasts that do a great job of blasting a crater in the wall but not a bunch else. Faeleth wrassles lizards without taking a lick of damage and shows them her real good stabs. Holgar rages (or gets minorly irritable) and delivers a very effective club blow to a lizard head. Spindle gets gnawed within an inch of his life, sinks to the floor crying, and Faeleth has to pick him up by the scruff of the neck and bodily dump him at the back of the group to stop him from getting killed. The fog is objectively the worst thing. This would not have happened without the fog. When there's only one left, the final lizard turns to flee and is met in turn with the ONLY Eldritch Blast that meets its mark* (thanks to the lizard finally exiting the fog cloud), one of Faeleth's thrown daggers, and...a dart, from Spindleshanks, that crits and straight up pins both of its perfectly intact eyeballs to the wall. He pockets those!! Examination of the further sewer reveals a ceiling trapdoor (totes the cause of the thud!). Nothing pushes it, to no avail. "Did you make sure it was definitely a push trapdoor?" Faeleth asks, and Nothing manages only an ineloquent sputter of "Shut up??" Holgar and Faeleth attempt to crowbar open the door in a very precarious ladder-climbing manoever that doesn't actually work. Alf comes down to check on us and tries to chivvy us out. The party refuses, claiming there's probably futher misdeed afoot that needs solving (and hey, didn't one of Nothing's kidfriends go missing? what if she's here!). Nothing feins obliging, hoping to whisper a new plan to the gang, but Spindle clambers up the pair still on the ladder and somehow - SOMEHOW - wrenches open the trapdoor enough to scramble on in. (Oh, and when Alf initially comes in and meets the wall of fog, Spindle dispels it, revealing that he could have dismissed it all-a-bloody-long. To be fair, it WAS more fun that way!) Alf gives up and leaves, muttering constantly about how he's done and can't be arsed with all this and he'll go see if Spindle's in the ABANDONED house in the morning. (He's...not sold with our claims.) Spindle pushes the barrels off of the trapdoor that were holding it down, and let us up into a dusty and mostly empty room inside a fancy house that was clearly vacated in a hurry. Dusty footprints - two or three humanoid, and one dog - tell a very clear story of their enter and exit. Closing the trapdoor behind us, of course, creates a perfect double of the earlier THUD. (Worth noting is that the DM told me early on that there are a lot of big ownerless dogs in town - Nothing knows them individually, has nicknames for them even - one with a floppy ear, one with a scar over its eye, she's as familiar with these big ol' benign street dogs as she is with her kidflock. The moment he said there were pawprints confirmed my suspicion that these are totally Chekov's Dogs. I don't know how they're relevant yet, but THEY WILL BE.) Faeleth sneakily nabs three coins she finds in a chest left behind while nobody else is looking. Picking the lock on the next door along reveals another room with sheet-covered furniture and a few stray semi-valuables (a minorly magical book, and a pair of stones of farspeech, belonging now to Nothing and the unlikely duo of Faeleth and Spindle respectively. Spindle tries to prank Faeleth into putting a stone to her ear so he can scream into it, it doesn't work. She tries to counter-prank. That doesn't work either). Also, there's a letter. It says something about 'delivering the cargo tomorrow' and is signed 'Mr Hand'. Nothing knows that's a village nickname for the butler of the mayor - does so much for him he probably even wipes his arse for him, might as well be his hands, HAW HAW HAW. She suggests camping out overnight for when the people hiding out here return, but the party points out the letter might not have been written yesterday, even if it is fresh-looking. To the manor!! ....To the manor was the plan, at least, but after a crafty exit from the window the party notice a tripwire in front of the front door. Whew, a close call! Then Spindle decides to try and disarm it. Spindle, who is at 2HP after the lizard encounter, decidedly the most greivously wounded of the group. Spindle fails to disarm it. BOOM. And that is how the party ends up legging it down the street at top speed, Spindle first in Holgar's arms (until he trips over a pack of street dogs and drops him on the floor), then in Nothing's (until she, too, takes a tumble), and finally in Faeleth's as Nothing screams directions from behind her to help reach the town apocatharess and medic's house. Faeleth tries to pick the lock of the unlocked door (when hammering on it and yelling from Nothing yeilds no answer) and Nothing drops Spindle AGAIN. This kid is literally on his last death saving throw and probably bleeding out in everyone's collective arms and the dice made passing him across result in him being dropped on the damn floor. Like, it was SO TENSE. The door opens to reveal Moira, ancient apocatharess granny, deep asleep with a pipe in her hand and the room absolutely pungent with the halfling equivalent to dank, dank weed. Nothing shakes Moira awake in a panic - "Got a real hurt kid here!" and after some minor hazy confusion Moira effortlessly waves a hand over the now securely picked up Spindle and he's good as new. He takes a grab at her pipe from his place in Nothing's arms, to which Moira gently admonishes, "You're a touch too young for that, dearie!" She invites everyone to dinner - she was expecting guests, but they've not showed, and she's got stew on the stove. It smells delicious, and a rest is great, but the 'guests'...Nothing knows that Moira's regular dinner 'guests' are herself and the street kid flock, who wouldn't miss a hot meal for the world. Welp. And that's where our session ended! Oh my god, where are my kids! Are they dogs? Are my kids dogs? Are the dogs people? AAAAAA
Have you ever heard the saga of Marty the DM and SUETHULU? It's not *technically* D&D, but... it's horrifying, in all the right ways. Basically, it's the saga of an engineering student at The Worst College, and his adventures in playing an unfinished, and even less balanced, D&D ripoff in a setting vaguely related to Cthulutech, run by a terrible DM who is also a terrible person. Featuring the DM's literal author avatar as the invincible villain, goawful sociology, physics breaking nonsense, and the erasure of dolphins. An nice concise summary: http://irolledazero.blogspot.com/p/properly-ordered-posts.html The original forum threads, in all their 'glory'. http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?275152-What-am-I-supposed-to-do http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?282462-The-SUE-Files-Part-II http://www.giantitp.com/forums/show...-Cheese-Forging-Genes&p=16112819#post16112819 Pic related.
It looks like I will be DM-ing a new campaign soon. I'm kinda excited as it has been a while since I ran a game. Almost a decade. I'm going to be using my heavily modified AD&D 2.5 edition rules, I'm stuck in my ways, and everybody is ok with that. Looks like a group of 8 including me. We will start in about 3 weeks. Right after we move into the new apartment.
My copy of the player's handbook has arrived, and man I am digging the colorful art. The b&w stuff is okay, but colorrrr
The person trying to hit you rolls a d20 and adds whatever pluses are relevant. If it's higher than your AC, they hit you. If it's lower, they don't.
I think that varies by edition? But pathfinder's is [whatever your armor gives you]+[DEX mod]+[size modifier, if any*]+[natural armor (scales, hide, etc)]+[whatever other misc mods you acquire]. *Size classes besides medium get either buffs or penalties; a smaller target is harder to hit, a bigger one is easier! In combat, your to-hit/attack roll must be equal to or more than your target's total AC. (And then there's mods for bypassing worn armor, or removing dex bonus or whatever, but that's complicated and I don't trust my sleepy brain to remember all of the special cases)
Why does Dex add to armor class the same way actual armor does? I feel like they should be separate. Avoiding blows and withstanding blows are different things.
