Once upon a time, long ago in the days of 2e and college I feel in with a group that played a mixture of 2e and Rolemaster.
THe DM was married to a woman named L (who played). He had a best friend named K. There were two other players in the group, G and B.
I showed up for my first session with a set of dice in my hand and dreams of gaming in my head. The first thing to hit me when I walked in was the smell. The house was FILTHY. The cat's litterbox was overflowing with excrement. There was a half-dressed two year old screaming. The sink was full of dishes that hadn't been washed since Kennedy was president and the refrigerator (where I put the soda I had brought for the session) had fungal samples in it unknown to science.
I started as a dwarven cleric of Moradin. Little did I know (because I wasn't told) that Moradin was a deity that the dwarves of this home brew world detested.
I rolled exceptionally hot for my wisdom and with the age bonuses ended up with a 21 wis at level 1. Not bad right? Wrong. The DM forced me to cast a 9th level spell off of a scroll to resurrect his wife's thief. He then house ruled that I lost 3 points of wisdom for casting such a powerful spell. That dropped me to an 18 (which is what I rolled to start) and left me with all the penalties of old age. Fine, I can roleplay it out. No worries.
Fast forward to about 6th level. The party had been in the wilderness for the past several levels. We had amassed a HUGE amount of coin and my cleric needed to make a tithe of 10% to the church (my idea actually). Since he couldn't find a church of Moradin (I didn't know about the persecution yet) I decided to attend a fundraiser for the local orphanage and donate the money publicly in the name of my deity. That led to me being challenged to a duel, in public, by the local constabulary. I was gleefully informed that even if I won the first one the 2nd in command would immediately challenge me and so on until I was dead.
It was at that point that the "high level" party (consisting of a half-demon ranger/fighter (best friend K), a half-drow thief princess (his wife), and a lawful neutral necromancer that used a screwy points system) showed up to save the day. Sweet, my cleric got to run with the high levels!
It all went well until I realized (at about level 9) that my cleric had in his possession exactly 2 magical items. One was a +1 shield that granted me 2 to all saves and the other was a bead of force. At level 9. Every single magical item the DM gave us went straight to the half-demon or his wife. Every.Damned.One.
I finally pestered him out of game enough that I got a single night (after a few years real time) where the arc focused on me. I ended up with a cursed two handed hammer +5. I could swing this hammer once every other round and it dealt weapon damage and dealt critical hits off of the disruption, unbalancing, and crushing tables at equal levels. For those of you who aren't conversant with the Rolemaster system this was a NASTY weapon. The only caveat was that every time I used it I absorbed the taint of the weapon into me and it would eventually turn me evil. Great, so now I have a magical weapon I can't use.
The culmination of this campaign, which had been running for around 7 years real time (of which I was present for the last 4 years) was the destruction of Lloth in her Abyssal sanctum. One party would go in the front door, the other (of which my cleric was a part) would go in the back. As the back door party neared their goal they had to traverse a demiplane that was crisscrossed by bridges surrounding an infinite abyss. At the end of one of these bridges was the door that lead to her sanctum.
Little did the DM know but three of us players had conspired outside of the game. We were fed up with him feeding incredibly powerful magic to his wife and his best friend, basing the story around only them, and treating them like Mary Sue characters. G and I had managed to put ourselves directly behind the half-demon in party march order.
When we reached the door the necro called a party halt and summoned up his minions in preparation for the battle. I drew my cursed hammer, put on a set of gauntlets of ogre power (borrowed from the necro) and asked K was his armor type and defensive bonus was. I then proceeded to max out the charts on my first swing. I got three full rounds on him before he died while the necro held off the rest of the party with his minions.
I threw my pearl of power to cut off retreat and smacked the half-drow thief/princess off of the bridge to fall forever into the abyss. Then the necro and I shook hands and parted ways.
The gaming group never played again. While it may have been a bad move on my part the DM and I spoke later and he did recognize that we all felt left out and he assured me that the next campaign (after that night) would have new characters as the focus. I didn't believe him and refused to reconcile.
Worst DM and PC's ever.
