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Snorter wrote: ...There's the following categories of numpties, who should be barred from voting on the grounds of incompetence... If you're barring people from voting on the grounds of incompetence, obviously wisdom only comes with age and experience, so only those fine folk over the age of 65 should be allowed to vote on such grounds.
(These superabundantly experienced citizens are, of course, also those who have put the most into the country in terms of a working life and taxes paid, and who - as those who have 'invested' the most into the economy - have the best grounds for having a 'say' in what gets done with what they have built up...)
Crazy? I'll show you CRAZY!!!
Disclaimer: There should of course be a disclaimer here, but I'm too busy telling young whipper-snappers to get orff my lawn to fill it in.
Define what you intend the abstract concept 'writing game' to mean, in the common language. It might help those posters who don't have any particular insight into what the jargon and trade-terms of your self-professed industries translate as.
Jacob Kellogg wrote: Raynulf wrote: Playing the "The end goal is right there, but first you must brave the dungeon to get the key!" card is something that is difficult to pull off in a convincing and satisfying fashion. How did your PCs find out in advance that the goal was behind the earthen barrier? Danged wannabe archeologists. Setting upon any and every cave-in, rock-fall, or slightly-suspicious section of wall, floor, or ceiling with pickaxes and shovels as soon as they happen upon said 'anomalies'.
<mumbles incoherently>
Fortunately they're darned rare. Still, difficult to anticipate everything with a death-trap, when you're on a tight budget.
<mumbles incoherently some more>
<wanders off>
Post peddling pseudo-religion like packets of poppy seeds to the masses!
Post proclaiming the impending second-coming of Aroden!
In despite of the fact that previous announcements to this effect have not had happy results...
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2 people marked this as a favorite.
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...you have more aliases than you can remember what you were supposed to do with.
[off-topic British humour]
Doomed, I say! We're all doomed!
[/off-topic British humour]
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Shouldn't that be 'safe'?
Sissyl wrote: The amount of gold medals won seems to me to correlate inversely to quality of life in a country. Say what you will about torture, it works brilliantly to produce elite sportsmen. Ah yes, that wacky Norwegian regime! Inflicting Abba on... err no, wait, those were Swedes... Okay, you assert they're guilty of some sort of gross misbehaviour, but I can't seem to quite work out what, at present, dang it!
Huh, what?
Crazy hippies.
The memories of folks around here much younger than me seem to be going these days. Comes to something when even the youngsters don't remember threads like *this* exist. Mind you, the way things keep being moved in these parts by that chap (?) with all the eyes, maybe the old links to it are all broken. Still, there are supposed to be all those hi-techy search thingummyjigs around, which folk never seem to use. And don't get me started on the declining standards of Aroden's English in online fanfictions. There are things called apostrophes, which are mighty useful. And if you can't be bothered to take the time to make sure your 'work' is readable to other folks out there, then why in tarnation's name are you posting it???
;)
Pete Pollard wrote: Richard Pett wrote: For those playing We be goblins too! (singalong version (nasty)) characters will be provided, other goblins will only be accepted if they meet the silk/pollard/Evans/Harrison cabal's approval, in writing, or those who play the kazoo and eat a madras the night before. Choir practice at 7am sharp, Saturday.
I would like to remind players that bribes are not accepted by the gm the night before.
Mnnnnnnarrrrrrrr!
Pett
I would just like to point out that Mr Pett uses the term 'cabal' loosely in his above post and doesn't mean to imply that several of the Paizocon UK organisers are evil flesh-eating cultists seeking to conquer the world with legions of multi-headed firebreathing bees. Just to pick an example totally at random, I mean.
Flesh-eating cultists are soooooo last millenium. Now *THIS* may be last millenium, too, but does it ever go out of date?
Stamped envelopes?
Hmmph. We used pteradactyls to deliver our mail (and that was real air mail, let me tell you), and counted ourselves lucky if one in three deliveries didn't get mistaken for fish and eaten. And we had to put up with them folks as thought trilobites were the cutting edge of 'respond please' mail delivery looking down their snouts at us, considering us dangerous young fools toying with things which the supreme being had not ever intended to be used to deliver mail.
You young whipper-snappers with your fancy stamped envelopes have it easy.
Lots of People wrote: ...lots of stuff... This is all a question of shields, isn't it? You cut the head off a gorgon (or is it 'medusa' in your part of existence?) with the assistance of a polished shield so you don't look at it directly; then you mount aforementioned head bang in the centre of aforementioned shield and prance around petrifying enemies with it before establishing a business selling 'lifelike garden ornaments'. Result: Profit. (Princesses chained to rocks considered optional extras.)
Mmmm, that's how the hero business works these days, am I right?
Anyway, faces...
<wanders off mumbling vaguely>
Oh, right, I've made an idiot of myself again, haven't I?
Well, best of fortune to the young whipper-snapper and all that.
<wanders off in confusion>
What? He's only got four stars? I have minus ten. Ten is bigger than four, right, and that minus stuff doesn't really count?
Sara Marie wrote:
Gary: So this will probably be pretty popular?
Vic: Yeah, this is gonna be pretty popular.
Well, most folks on your continent with office Christmas trees use conifers (either mutant hybrid plastic ones, or organic ones - either tend to shed their needles all over the carpet which is the really important thing), but I guess you know what you're doing...
Saruman the Wise wrote: Frying pan response.
Huh?
<wanders into thread>
I say. A strange thing happened to me the other day. I'd been wandering Avistan, promoting the excellent work of Gorum with a touring gladiatoral show. Rave reviews and oodles of cash absolutely everywhere. Anyhow, the lads and I stopped by Nerosyan, the capital of Mendev, intending to put on a grand gala - I mean they're crusaders in Mendev, they're into fighting, so they should really appreciate a group of armed-to-the-teeth half fiends wearing spiked armour showing up to entertain them.
The next thing I knew, there were horns blowing and spells and arrows flying, and we had to run for our lives.
I mean rum old thing, what? I just couldn't understand it. They must be crazy in Mendev or something.
<wanders out of thread>
I have to recommend any PaizoCon over any GenCon, but then people say that I'm crazy...
But yes, start saving up your buttons, bus-tickets, and Smarties lids right now, to pay for your trips! If you can spell out 'Who wants to be a millionaire? Why I do, dawg!' with Smarties lids, I hear that you win a fantastic prize. That's if you use the correct colours to do it, that is - use the wrong colours and you just end up with a piece of modern art. Hmm. Actually as an aside, modern art is pretty valuable these days...
So yes, save up now! Go to FBPDGSH Con 2011, or if you can't get tickets because the tinker gnomes have booked them all already, settle for a PaizoCon or GenCon instead.
This message was approved by the Archon of the Deranged Frog Chapel board of directors. No amphibians were harmed in the making of this advert. (Err, does Butterfrog count as an Amphibian?) Okay, well no Hugos were harmed in the making of this advert. Some amphibians may have been, but they probably just wanted to kill you and take your stuff.
The fallen angel bustles around the chapel cleaning up after another service, taking especial care as he polishes the statue of the goddess. There were more people today than yesterday. More people yesterday than the week before.
He is confident that soon word will spread, belief will grow, and the goddess will appear to lead them to victory.
It takes time and patience, but he's getting there, he can feel it.
In a little half-ruined chapel somewhere, the fallen celestial, Auziark, is whipping an audience of the poor and desperate from society up into a frenzy. At the front, in the recently cleaned chancel, a beautiful marble statue of Arielle is set up.
Worship her! For she is the goddess of beauty and of war, the survivor of along line of tragic martyrs, and she will lead us to victory! the angel exhorts his congregation.
Hello there.
Rustles wings a little uncertainly.
I am Auziark the True, and I shall shortly be commencing my plan to inspire the peoples to worship the one True goddess of beauty and war, Arielle.
There have been assertions that I have a patron, who has been helping me towards this end, providing funding, items, spell-scrolls, etc. Well these rumours are true, but frankly I haven't the faintest idea who that patron is at the moment, and even if I did, I wouldn't disclose any names.
I am enthusiastic about the possibilities of such actions propelling the child in question to her true place at the head of our church, and putting her at the forefront of our army to conquer the world in the name of beauty.
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