… in which we leave the railroad for a few minutes but luckily find our way back.

Oh god. Not more. Why do you do this to yourself? Well, at least you’re not forcing yourself to Jhonen Vasquez naturalist descriptions of exploding gore. Let me disgust you and make the side of your open mouth twitch.

The game started painfully enough, with the group standing in front of 7 mooks, 2 guards and a single BBEG. We were all bracing for impact, but we wanted to put off the inevitable. We decided on a simple “intimidate a bit first, bluff second” tactic. The humble barb went on to explain in eloquent detail how everything downstairs got grinded (hint hint) down to dirt, looted, burnt and smashed to pieces.

A pet peeve of mine came into play when the DM decided not to take the 19 I rolled, but rolled three rolls of his own. Because a roll deciding at least 2/3 of an outcome (assuming the modifier being less than 10, which it always is,) is not random enough, let’s give every faction a chance to defend itself.

The BBEG wanted something from us but doesn’t want to go into detail on what it is. The rogue did him one better, and wanted something more than her life in exchange for the, not yet defined, “artifact”. It turned out, he wanted the urn I sprung a leak on. Everyone knew it was probably a bad thing to give it to him, but, fuck. Like we care anymore. We just wanted out. (Sans rogue.)

Exiting, we ran into another group of adventurers, apparently with a job from the “Adventurers guild”, the local excuse for a questgiver. Fucking fantastic, heroism is now a 9-to-5 job. Anyway, formalities are exchanged, they tell us they’ll split the job money for any worthwhile data on the dungeon.  We share, because, fuck, like we care anyway.

We meet up back in the tavern, they apparently slaughtered the place, went even one level lower than us, but didn’t meet the BBEG nor the “urn”, which turns out not to be as huge as imagined. So BBEG plus MacGuffin gone, CAMPAIGN LONGEVITY SECURED. Ugh.

I have not given the other party names or descriptions, since the very night after we meet they are all slaughtered in their sleep. I made a point out of not going to sleep after unconsciousness was used as a plot device at least two times, stayed awake, was quick on my feet to do shit. “As you’re about to fall asleep, you hear screams”. (This is important, I figured it was at least midnight.) I investigate screams next door to find some fuck assassin jumping out the window.

Where did I see this already.

“Fuck your shit” I say, leap out, force the GM into a chase through the city streets, conveniently screaming bloody murder to wake everyone up. After a short grab of the narrative I get the bitch, subdue him and meet the most incompetent police force on the planet.

See, while adventuring seems to be a standardized 9-to-5 grind, being on the town guard, (admittedly, in some podunk village,) seems to be the most irregular random job possible, providing a job taking any idiot with a heartbeat. (similarly to bandits.)

We have to take 3 tries to get this imbecile townsfolk to get some guards, then the guards pass up on frisking the assassin, because, you know, what would a guy who just stabbed three people have on him, surely not a knife, or a sword. (Hint; both)

We split up, rouge and ranger go with the guy, I want to check up on the bodies. No bodies. Someone seems to have moved the bodies away. The innkeeper downstairs “know nothing, I do nothing” in the most ‘Schulz’ way possible, (you should watch Hogan’s Heroes,) everyone else seems to have just slept on calmly with a bunch of people dying/being dead next door.

The rogue is now alone with the guy, wants to fuck him up a bit, asks guard to open cell door.  Guy looks in, “smiles” (this may be important) and does his job when joined by some backup. The assassin, somehow completely unbound, tries to chug down some poison. “Fuck your shit” goes the rogue, snatches it out of the guys hands. The second attempt to get the assassin out of the game felt railroad-y enough, but after the succeeded check, the DM says “he already swallowed some”. All aboard the train, choo-choo!

“Fuck your shit” goes the whole group in unison, demanding the guy puke it all up. The rogue and the guards succeed, the rogue gets puked at. Guess gratuitous description of bodily fluids is the DMs thing. No surprises here. (I smell puke just writing all this.)

In the end, it was by my assumption far too early morning, and time to rest ’til the morn’ proper. Somehow, the rogue interpreted this as a call back to the tavern and the assassin apparently got left alone. In the morning, there was an interrogation to be held. The incompetent fucks wanted “10 minutes  the easy way, 10 minutes the hard way, then your turn”. I wrote on a note to the GM “I go meet the local dentist”, implying I’m to get some tools for the interrogation. I was all hot and hyped up about getting this fucker to talk.

Then, the guards start round 1. Says he ain’t talkin’ yet, I’m about to cut in line, but they go in for round two. I want to know whether there are peepholes or something, to make sure they don’t kill him. No peepholes. Great.

Round two ends, imbeciles exit. “Whoops, he’s dead”.  Super. “Apparently, some girl brought him water, apparently poisoned”. Great.

We ended at that point, I was seething. “Well, the cops are dumb”. The rogue agreed, gave her cynical view of policemen in general. Great. She didn’t stay guard, since “you said we fresh up and meet there in the morning”. I was content with a retcon saying she was bathing off the puke when the girl got to poison him. You know what? I take that back. I’m not content. She;s playing a goddamn kender, is of no use to anyone, takes shit like a kleptomaniac. She has no reason to be with a group. Anyway, back on the rails. The GM even went on to tell us how “it wasn’t really railroading, since between the ‘must-do’ things we could move freely”.


The ranger took some flak for not doing anything besides fightan, but I guess he’s just not that into RPG’s and this is really no way to introduce someone to the hobby. I took some flak for assuming there were competent policemen, in- or out-of-game. We leveled for 20 minutes, since we had to look up the SRD on an iphone.

Post-game, I asked the DM whether he expected the chase and whether the rest was improvised. “Sadly yes”. God, this guy has no fucking clue.

Also, politics fun fact; did you know appreciating aspects of different ends of political spectrum’s does not mean you agree with both, rather you disagree with both? Now you know.


~ by fatrpgdongs on 20/03/2010.

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