Any roleplaying group that has existed for long enough has accumulated a hefty amount of inside jokes, often resulting from absurd gaming moments that everyone remembers, NPCs that didn't quite make it the way they were supposed to be, or the pizza delivery guy who accidentally came with an empty box (yeah, we weren't particularly glad. But we got 4 pizzas for free then next time, at least).
Have any of those running jokes made it into your campaign as actual elements of the story? If they have, let's share them!
I'll start with a few:
-The Torch of Embezzlement: Whenever we had a missing player, the group decided that his character was the one carrying the torch, so that everyone else would be free of the duty. But when problems started, they asked me if the character could heal/fight/etc, to which I often replied "No, he cannot" (mostly because my DMing policy is to avoid someone's character being played by someone else, unless the player gives specific instructions). "Why can't he? He's carrying the torch!" they asked, to which I replied "Yes, that is why. He's embezzled by the torch and unable to act".
As time progressed, the dreaded Torch of Embezzlement appeared every time a player was gone (no one knew where did such torches came from, and sometimes there were more than one!), as a joke to justify why they couldn't act. But in one particular dungeon, one character picked up a torch from a wall and lighted it up, only to become completely enthralled by it. "Oh no, the Torch of Embezzlement!" they all went, and since that day, they have become very wary of random torches lying around (they later used that same torch to infiltrate a government building, by giving it to the guards).
It has made apparitions in other games too, as The Oil Lamp of Emblezzlement (in 7th Sea), the Laser Light of Embezzlement (in Star Wars d6), and the Phlogistonic Portable Illuminator of Jolly Gentlemen Catatonic Trance-Inducer... of Embezzlement (in Space 1889).
-Loth the Magnificent: It was 2002, and my group had just made the switch to D&D 3e from AD&D 2e. In our first campaign, the party was attacked by a band of Robbin Hood-esque merry thieves, the leader of which identified himself as "Loth, but you may call me The Magnificent", after which he was supposed to do an Errol Flynnian stylish hop off his horse and land with his sword in hand pointing at a character's throat. But I rolled straight 1s that session, so instead he fell of his horse, then broke his sword, got himself tangled with a rope, saw his thief mates running away scared and ended up half-sunk in a mud puddle; the party threw him some coins and went along with their quest. So "Doing a Loth" became the standard term for failing horribly.
But Loth didn't give up, and kept appearing as an NPC, sometimes as an antagonist, sometimes as an ally, regardless of the setting, time frame or even game, showing up as a pirate captain, the owner of a gambling den, a space smuggler, or the undead skull of a bard that the party carried around in a bag so he could sing and boost their rolls (they lost him while fighting a giant spider over an abyss, yelling, of course, "You have not seen the last of meeeeee...!".
-The DM: Yes, the Dungeon Master from the Dungeons & Dragons series. It started as a joke, of course, when in one session the players were utterly lost (I blame myself for an overly complex puzzle), so I tell them "Suddenly, within a puff of purple smoke -because, you know, magic is purple, psionics are blue-, you see a tiny man with a prominent balding and a red robe lined with gold appear from nothing", who begins giving them advice -albeit rather cryptic-, enough to help them move along. The players instantly recognized him as the DM.
He showed up another time also as a joke (only to give them completely useless cryptic advices like "You know the answer" or "All will revealed in time" before disappearing), but at some point he became institutionalized as some kind of Lawful-Good outsider of great power that took interest in helping the party -whichever that party is at any given time- but that has no awareness of his impossibly useless advices, and now he shows up from time to time to confuse everyone with phrases no one understands.
I had a PC's cohort getting married and one of her pig farmer relatives told the joke in The Aristocrats.
Our Serpent's Skull PbP has had quite a lot of in-game comedy. It's always a nice way of breaking the tension when things get too serious. We also have fun working it into the story — one of the benefits of the player all living remotely from one another I guess:
Did I do that? At the start of our current campaign, the party leader 'broke' the universe by making one too many UMD checks on the Limbo Tavern's extra-dimensional front door. However the official cause (once reality finished sorting things out) was remembered in this reality as a talent contest wherein a 2-bit conjurer tried to impress the crowd with a trick involving a bag of holding, a top hat, a badger, a brown-skinned elf, and a portable hole horribly wrong.
Switcheroo! The party leader and her twin sister switch places during a royal ball confusing bodyguards and everyone else. The party leader then (in the guise of her much more reserved sister) then expresses her 'true feelings' for the party's fighter/rogue at the urging of the party cleric who happened to be his GF.
This is my BOOM stick! Party leader bluffs the enemies in surrendering with a wand of Cure Light... Fireballs?
Does this make my chest look fat? Squeezing a curvy succubus into Chivane the svelte assassin's armor.
Ah'm preggers! Why having a great bluff modifier and no sense motive can backfire. The succubus gets bluffed into thinking she's pregnant by Sasha Nevah.
Rocks fall, everyone dies. The term "killed by falling boulders" now holds new meaning for our group: Check Gelik's 4 posts near the bottom of this page.
Picture yourself, on a boat! The party cleric gets stoned just standing around next to the party leader whilst buying curative potions in the temple to the goddess of passion and inspiration. Cue the Moody Blues, Jimi Hendrix, and William Shatn– er– The Beatles!
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We've also had jokes about inbreeding amongst nobility (due to the party leader's incomprehensible anti-logic), epic shopping trips, and plenty of spontaneous musical performances. A recurring erinyes has a habit of dropping ironic lines concerning her own damnation ('what the devil's going on here?' 'well I'll be damn!' 'oh hell...'). An incompetent PC on a spy mission vs. an incompetent target equals a successful infiltration (with the help of a falling brick).
There's lots more and (to borrow the animé term) generally quite a bit of fan service too, but we do tend to have a lot of fun. :)
In our first campaign, the party was attacked by a band of Robbin Hood-esque merry thieves, the leader of which identified himself as "Loth, but you may call me The Magnificent", after which he was supposed to do an Errol Flynnian stylish hop off his horse and land with his sword in hand pointing at a character's throat. But I rolled straight 1s that session, so instead he fell of his horse, then broke his sword, got himself tangled with a rope, saw his thief mates running away scared and ended up half-sunk in a mud puddle; the party threw him some coins and went along with their quest.
Thank you, Klaus van der Kroft. That was the biggest laugh I've had all week.
Actual Bears
It was the first (and basically only time) a group of people I knew in high school met to play a game of D&D that one of the guys made up. I don't quite recall what happened now, but as it so happened a bear made an appearance to be represented by a definitely non-bear miniature. During disagreements to the nature of "That doesn't look like a bear to me." I made the assertion, quite firmly, that "No, no, it's an actual bear."
Much funny was had. Despite being quite fuzzy on the details nowadays, the mentioning of "actual bears" still brings about the giggles.
Any patently absurd idea leading to even further absurd munchkining delivered in an almost equally absurd baritone
Long story short, we were playing Age of Worms and obtained a player with a rather deep voice who, quite often, made the habit of trying to use some obscure or not-so-obscure rule to do something absurd to make money (He also did this in real life - positing absurd but seemingly realistic scenarios buoyed by numbers to achieve an even more absurd result). The primary one that comes to mind is we came across a bunch of barrels that were for some reason full of chain links. He wants to carry all of them with him so that he could craft them (in 3.5, in Age of Worms) into chain shirts and sell them.
Any time our group gets into any of our many ridiculous barely-on-topics, some one will eventually go "See, what we should do is [completely absurd idea, usually "buy all the experience points from the villagers"] and then [achieve some even more absurd result, usually comes out to the effect of creating some infinite loop of money/experience points]"
I played for a while in a long-running 3E game that started off in the city of Orcland, New Zealand. Once I got used to it, it didn't even seem like a joke.
One of the players in my first long term campaign as a DM (back in 1e days) had, and still has, a habit of just not knowing what a word actually means or hearing a word and thinking he's using it the right way when he isn't. It became a cliche that nearly every character he'd roll up was seeking revenge for a wrong done to his family/mentor/people and he would declare that his character had a "personal bandana" against the offender. He meant "vendetta" and we knew it but to this day, "personal bandana" is a part of our lexicon, both in game and out. One of the guys in my group even made personalized bandanas for all of us one year for Christmas.
One of my earlier ones had the players on the Plane of Fire.
Now, my group has a severe problem with staying on-topic.
So there they are, standing on the stairs of the Brass Palace, and the players have been talking about Disney.
So to shake it up, I blurred the line between what the players were saying, and what the characters were saying.
So an efreeti leaned over and asked them "What's Disney?"
And that's been said at least once in every campaign since.
First arc of our campaign we found that we needed to go find a white dragon in the far north in order to claim an ancient undead-slaying artifact (or so we hoped). The ranger, who's from another world, asked "There are dragons here?" To which the halfling shadowdancer replied "Yes". The ranger then asked the logical question: "where?" He managed to bomb a Knowledge check as I recall. The halfling's reply: "On the continent." Since then, we have constantly teased the ranger's player about there still being dragons on the continent.
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Back in our GURPS days I played an ogre named Jax, he carried this skull around with him and any time he was asked a question he would pull out the skull and say loudly "I'll ask poor Yerk, him can tell!"
During the Dragonlance adventures in the swamps of Xak Tassaroth my dwarven fighter climbed into a wicker dragon after his foe, upon killing the draconian it exploded, causing the burned dwarf to crawl back out sans beard, when the party ask him if he was alright he responded with "Gu-gu-godsdamn thing went BOOM!" To this day we say "went BOOM!" whenever a plan goes wrong for a PC.
"Your argument is invalid. I have multiattack!" in our group is used as a humorous way to dismiss someone's claim without providing any real rationale.
Once when a nameless NPC was killed during an adventure, I named him "Jense". The name stuck. Lots of nameless NPCs called "Jense" were killed afterwards. The joke turned into a storyline of a huge family with lots of children who drew bad luck to them in order to prevent the return of the tarrasque.
My PCs are still afraid when they are on a ship or in a remote location and one of the crew of another NPC is called Jense. Sure recipe for disaster.
A moment of frustration that has lived on in our games. A long time into a long, frustrating session, DMing more people than I'm capable. I finally say, "That's it the Ogre grapples you".
"No check!?"
"Fine, whatever", he rolls a 20 and I still fail him. At first they were all pissed, but later the table laughed and the exaggeration started. Eventually it grew so that the players all assumed that all ogres always had infinite grapple, could charge indefinitely and had vorpal headbutts. We never went back to those characters, but it's still brought up often enough.
Probably not the best example here since it never became canon.
Gnolls in Seatown
The DM decided to give us some rumours at the start of a campaign so, being a slightly less than virtuous party, we decided to invent our own rumour: "There are Gnolls in Seatown", the dockside part of the city.
Initially, the DM said there weren't even any Gnolls in his world but that didn't deter us from spreading the rumour. This got so convincing, that my Fighter started believing it and decided that the Gnolls in Seatown were in fact the BBEG.
Eventually, the campaign ended with me killing the Gnolls in Seatown, whilst the rest of the party dealt with their wizard henchman...
Until the End of Days: ended up being our party's official title after the gnome refused to sign the "requisition of remains" contract with the LN Cleric of Weejas. Everyone else was ok with donating their body to unholy science but oh no not the gnome who proclaimed that if his remains were violated he would haunt her "until the end of days". Which became really funny because there were multiple deaths and true resurrections in that campaign and it seemed our party would roam the earth until the end of days.
Frequent buyer discount/credit line at the temple of Pelor: same campaign as above. We had so many true resurrections performed we actually had a line of credit or tab with the High Bishop of the temple.
The Complete Tax Lawyer: We told the DM of, again, the above campaign that he should right the supplement book "The Complete Tax Lawyer" after spending almost a whole game session arguing with the city lawyer over the taxes we had to pay on land that was granted to us by the King as a reward for our deeds. EPIC FAIL.
Dune Haged: In one scene in the desert the party was asleep in the tent while one member stood guard outside it. The dune hag disguised as a lost princess with "lots of personality" convinced him to allow her in the tent. He then asks her to wait there for a minute, comes in wakes and asks the rogue if its ok to let the lost lady in, the rogue says sure. He then lays back down and pretends to be asleep. The moment she steps inside the tent he sneak attacked her and crited which resulted in gaking her in one hit. From then on anytime the DM's monster dies in one round we refer to it as a dune hag.
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"But why are there baboons?"
I don't remember what campaign we were playing, but when we came to town we learned that wild troops of baboons were attacking the town. After we asked some information-gathering questions, one player sort of woke up from a sleepy stupor and asked, "But why are there baboons?" Now, every time someone asks a vague, existential question of NPCs who obviously don't know or they wouldn't be asking for our help, they receive a chorus of "But why are there baboons?"
Playing a shadowrun game: the DM was describing a woman, and using his hands. He described her as "having great dignity." while holding his hands like he was holding his own breasts. this crack us all up, as i asked him, "are you trying to tell us she has huge knockers?"
to this day anytime the group is together and we see a woman with big breasts we describe her as having great dignity. and it still makes that dm blush with embarrassing.
Playing a shadowrun game: the DM was describing a woman, and using his hands. He described her as "having great dignity." while holding his hands like he was holding his own breasts. this crack us all up, as i asked him, "are you trying to tell us she has huge knockers?"
to this day anytime the group is together and we see a woman with big breasts we describe her as having great dignity. and it still makes that dm blush with embarrassing.
So no one in the group has seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail?
"And she has huge.... tracts of land!"
Inevitably doomed or damned NPCs are always named Brian. Everyone in the universe knows that these NPCs are doomed to die terrible deaths, but no one ever mentions it to their face. When they suffer their fate, even if their life is savable, they usually stubbornly refuse to be helped, preferring to die instead of go on to whatever terrible fate the PCs have in store for them.
We were once playing in a game of Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay 2e.
Our party was in the middle of the yard of a keep in the forest. In a nutshell, it all went to hell in a handbasket and demons of Khorne were swarming the fortress grounds.
We ran from the keep, across the yards into a barn to look for horses. There, we found a man guarding the horses.
"Give us the horses!" followed by "Never!" -- and since we were all lawless evil mercenaries (every single character in the party was or had been in the career Outlaw because we had all begun the game as peasants) we just senselessly beat him.
"Wait, no! Stop!"
My character, Felix, a thief, savage murderer and liar has a change of heart. "Wait, stop! What is it?"
"You can take the horses! Just leave me to die!"
"I can't. You have to come with us."
"I don't want to!"
"You have to come with us! You've gotta live!"
"No!"
"Come with us!"
"No, I really want to stay here!"
"What's your name?!"
"My name is... Awkward."
"Well, now your name is Brian."
"No, I mean, my name is really Awk--"
"YOUR NAME IS BRIAN!"
"Ah! Oh god! Shallya save me! My name is Brian!"
"What's your name?!"
"Brian!"
"Good!! Come with us, Brian! Onto my horse!"
I pull Awkard (now Brian) onto my horse. We prepare to charge out of the doors of the barn to freedom.
"Today is the first day of your new life, Brian!" I assure him.
We charge out of the doors, valiantly leaping-- to find a group of no less than eight bloodthirsters, terrible and extremely dangerous daemons of Khorne who would easily tear us all apart, closing in on the barn and fast.
Without a moment's thought, I scream, "Meet Brian!" and hurl the poor man off of the horse at the daemons. As he distracts the daemons with his excess of blood that is not yet outside his body, the entire party cut to the left and barely escaped with our lives.
It fell out of popularity when a new player to our group joined and rolled up a character named Brian and then staunchly refused to die.
Playing a shadowrun game: the DM was describing a woman, and using his hands. He described her as "having great dignity." while holding his hands like he was holding his own breasts. this crack us all up, as i asked him, "are you trying to tell us she has huge knockers?"
to this day anytime the group is together and we see a woman with big breasts we describe her as having great dignity. and it still makes that dm blush with embarrassing.
+ infinity for that! THAT IS EPIC!!!
for myself, it was my first time ever being a DM for AD&D. i had a knight named "sir bob of scratch-and-sniff", marvin the wizard, and a thief whose name eludes me.
well, the campaign was my own made up one on the fly, so i put them outside a small village in daggerdale in the FR setting. Lots of hilarity enused because the group decided to practice sparring against a fence post off the side of the road. After their spar, they headed into town. the town was bleak, with huts and homes destroyed, the center of the filled with these massive ruts in the center roadways, and the fields outside of the village devestaded with these massive ruts and track marks. The mayor asked them, then pleaded and implored them (the thief wanted tons of money) to find out the where these strange boulders were coming from. So the party went into the woods and followed the trail. the trail ended at a very large cliff that fell 300' to the water below. so they turned around and backtracked to the point of origin. On there way there, they hear some massive rumbling and smashing of trees, animals schreeking and what not. they set themselves for attack and gasp in horror as these massive boulders with hair go rolling past. Sir bob deceides to be brave and attacks them. his sword cut into one as it was rolling past and caused it to crack. a white liquid gushed out and coated him. he was all "wtf???", but they had managed to stop one of them. looking clooser at it, i described it as being 10 feet tall, covered in a brown-hairy husk, some small black spots on it, and the white liquid. the PC playing the thief looked at me and goes "what are these? migrating coconuts???"
yes. yes they were.
so now, i try to include the migrating coconuts in every new campaign i start, especially when i have only a couple hours to play....
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Quickdraw Greataxe: A player in my game had a fighter who had just multiclassed into the Complete Adventurer Ninja class, and was the walking arsenal of the party, collecting weapons from slain enemies as they went. When the halfling rogue got into a barfight with the rival adventuring group, on his turn he says 'I move forward and quickdraw greataxe.'
The table stops, with exclamations of 'can you do that?' and 'in a crowded bar?' and 'HOW?!' His response?
"I'm a ninja."
Thus, 'Quickdraw Greataxe' became the signal that it was time to throwdown.
Dang I'm Huge!: Same campaign, traveling through the jungle. Party comes to a random encounter, which ends up being a T-Rex. Having the miniature on hand, once the mat is laid out, I plop it on the map with a deep, comical Dang I'm Huge. The fight could not start for a minute due to laughter. Anytime after that, when large things were described, 'Dang I'm Huge' would make an appearance.
Whacack'em!: This word was something a coworker of mine would use to describe something being struck. I brought it home on vacation and while running a game for my brother and friends, they used it often during combat.
Then came the fateful moment when the paladin, separated from the rest of the group, was surprised by a beholder, who made demands of him. Being low-level, this was a CR-inappropriate challenge and the paladin was completely flabbergasted.
However, the rest of the party had not seen the illustration, only the paladin's player had. So they encouraged him to whacack'em it!
'No! No, I can't whacack'em that!' was the players response.
Quickdraw Greataxe: A player in my game had a fighter who had just multiclassed into the Complete Adventurer Ninja class, and was the walking arsenal of the party, collecting weapons from slain enemies as they went. When the halfling rogue got into a barfight with the rival adventuring group, on his turn he says 'I move forward and quickdraw greataxe.'
The table stops, with exclamations of 'can you do that?' and 'in a crowded bar?' and 'HOW?!' His response?
"I'm a ninja."
Thus, 'Quickdraw Greataxe' became the signal that it was time to throwdown.
Honestly, the only part of that which made no sense was the "I'm a ninja response."
Haha! These are some fantastic inside jokes. Got some more:
-King of the Huns: One of my players (who always plays either dwarfs or barbarians, yet never dwarf barbarians) has a God-given skill of always rolling 1s in the worst possible circumstances, to the point that he now always takes points in Craft [Blacksmithing] in order to be able to repair the weapons he keeps breaking in half. We speak in Castilian, under which "King of the Huns" is "Rey de los Hunos", with "Hunos" being pronounced the same as "Unos" ("Ones"). So now, whenever his character meets someone, he presents himself as "King of the Huns".
-S.R.: In my games, whenever the players meet an NPC whose initials are S.R., they know he is about to die. This comes from "Sin Relevancia" ("Without Relevance" in Castilian), and thus all the "Seymour Roberts", "Sinklefin Rumblebottoms" and "Sebastian Rodriguez" are the kinds of NPCs the party makes sure to question quickly before getting blown up to pieces by a failed spell, crushed by an ogre's dramatic entrance or reduced to smoked ham by a connection failure in his commlink.
-"Obviously, now we use the bomb!": About 6 years ago, we took a whole weekend to roleplay at my parent's house lake with my group. We were playing Star Wars d6 until very late, and I fell asleep in the couch. Apparently, at some point I woke up like I had an eureka moment and went "Obviously, now we use the bomb!", after which I fell asleep again. I honestly don't remember a thing (it was like 6 am and I had been driving the whole afternoon), but since then it has become the usual response whenever the party literally has no idea what to do.
-Fam [Insert Animal]: During the same first 3e campaign we played where Loth the Magnificent became famous, one of the players made a wizard. He was a good friend of mine, but he was never really into roleplaying, so he only stayed with us for about 3 sessions, and never really decided on a name, but everyone kept calling him "The Wizard Who Looks Like Stone Cold Steve Austin" at the table. Two sessions later, another player joins (he was supposed to be there from the start, but was out of the country) and checks the wizard's sheet to find the name. Then, midways through the session, he goes "Maybe Fam Weasel can cast a spell to get us through". Everyone looks at him, unsure of what to say. Turns out the wizard had written down "Fam, Weasel" next to the name slot when he was making the character (his Familiar was a Weasel), and the other player confused it for the name. We were so surprised that he didn't even question himself about how would anyone call his character Fam Weasel, that the naming convention is regularly used to name characters of players that only come to play for a few sessions, and thus we have had a Fam Riding Dog, Fam Octopus and a Fam Celestial Dire Piglet.
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First session for a new game, playing a half-orc barb named 'Thokk'.
PCs are at a fancy party, which gets attacked by zombies for some reason. We kill them, and an npc guard captain tries to recruit us into the town guard.
I ask, "What I get if sign to be guard?"
He explains that they get the honor of serving the town, blah blah blah. AND, a nice blue tabard to go over my armor.
I respond, "That crappy sign on bonus."
Hilarity ensued.
Later on, an npc made me mad, so I told him to "go Thokk himself".
More hilarity.
Same campaign, several sessions later, we meet, defeat, and go back to camp with a group of ogres. One of the females likes the halfling rogue.
Have you ever seen the episode of Futurama where they get captured by the giant woman, who are sentenced to 'death by snu-snu'? it was like that.
The player let out a yelp in aggravation at his characters predicament, and was nicknamed by the ogre chief to be henceforth called "He Who Cries At Midnight". More hilarity.
Still further into the same game:
We discover that the bbeg is actually the mayor of the town we started in. We need a way to distract the town guards while we break into a building to destroy something. Dont remember what. So, we go back to the ogre village, and Thokk convinces them to come 'fake attack' the town, while we do what we need to do.
It works, but they dont break off the attack and run, so we have to fight them a bit to get them to back off, too.
After the fighting stops, the DM tells me, "Congratulations. You just taught ogres how to raid and pillage." Much hilarity.
One party had a cleric that joked once that before he went into battle, he had to crack open a six-pack of whup-ass. He even went so far as to record the said six-pack on his character sheet, and when the character died, the six-pack was passed around from character to character. It had no real function, but occasionally shows up in my games.
When South Park first came out, the party in our ToEE game was short a heavy-hitter fighter. So they went to town and hired a big, strong tough guy to serve as a human shield. As a joke, because I expected him to die, I named him 'Kenny' because I figured when he went, everyone else in the party could cry out "Oh my God, they killed Kenny..." et al. What made this exceptionally funny was that the party was one of only one or two TPKs that I handed out as a DM, on the very session that Kenny joined the party, and that he was the last character to die.
Forests filled to overflowing with owlbears are a strong in-joke for our group, thanks to one player's disastrous attempts at DMing involving three hours of character building and fifteen minutes of exploring a wooded clearing and five minutes of watching a party of six or seven 1st level characters get slaughtered by an Owlbear. In game time it took far less than five minutes. But, you know, he had to roll. Later, we found out, he was trying to steer us towards a path, but I'm not sure why he didn't give us a chance to run away...
(As a side note, the Kingmaker Owlbear art was hilarious to our group).
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Don't Push Me- We played a really long running 3.5 campaign that went from level 1 to part way into epic. At one point, the party was searching a long abandoned island that had once been the home to a race of abberations. Divining that an event was going to wipe them out, they took some of their most powerful and locked their minds away in these stones in a ritual that was similar to magic jar. That way they could outlive the destruction of their species and claim new bodies later.
The stones were stacked along a pillar and surrounded by an inward facing magic circle, as none of the abberations really trusted each other not to screw one another over when a body presented itself, a construct was created with the job of making new bodies become 'available' them them, as well as bringing out one of the stones at a time to claim victims thus preventing a power struggle.
Well, the fight against the construct went poorly for the PCs. Unknown to them, their main fighter became possessed immediately and the construct managed to drop everyone else but the group's necromancer/cleric. Realizing he needed time to recover in order to revive the party and not yet seeing that the fighter was in fact an enemy he moved to study the column from the safety of the outside of the magic circle in order to determine if the room was safe enough to sleep, when the fighter came up behind him and gave him a shove.
Now whenever near anything dangerous in any game, that player will point at the other and tell him not to push him.
The Buffing Imp: Early on in our current campaign the party was fighting an imp at the top of a tower. In the middle of the room was a column of "fire" that concealed a teleportation stone to the tower dungeon.
The party was winning the battle, though they didn't know it yet, and the imp was about to make his escape into the fire. The party cleric cast a buff spell on the party fighter, a somewhat dimwitted goblin, but she cast it while his back was turned. The next moment the imp flew into the fire column and disappeared.
The goblin fighter was totally jazzed. He thought that the two events were connected somehow and started talking about the "Buffing Imp", who would make him feel stronger and then leave. Every time the cleric would cast a buff spell on him he would thank the Buffing Imp, not the cleric.
It's a WAR horse: Before the group in the Buffing Imp story got together we were trying out what turned out to be a pathetic 1st ed. PBP. One of the characters purchased a horse as part of her starting equipment, intending to eventually become a mounted warrior. In the first encounter (with some kobolds) the horse ran off, which wasn't a problem until the DM arbitrarily ruled that it could not be found and left no tracks to follow. He attempted to justify this with the fact that it was not a WAR horse.
We ultimately left the PBP soon after and formed a sit-down group. Any time anything turned out to be less capable than it looked someone piped up with, "Well it obviously wasn't a WAR XXXXX (fill in the blanks)"
Kick in the door and throw in the dwarf - Back in my Navy days during 1e, I was playing a barbarian. The DM had made up this dungeon that was pretty detailed. I played this guy as having little in the way of patience and apt to solve any problem with the proper application of violence. After the Thief failed to open a locked door after a couple of attempts, I passed the DM a note. He promptly laughed out loud & told me to go ahead. So I grabbed the wormy little thief out of the way ( I had a 18-78 Str) then yelled, "I kick in the door & throw in the dwarf." Natural 20 shattered the door jam & another tossed the dwarven fighter into the room. The DM took the player out off the mess decks for a little bit while they played out the encounter. They came back and the DM said the door was coming open and it had gotten really quiet in the room. We walked in & the dwarf promptly ran back out & pulled the door closed & braced his feet to hold the door shut. He had made the vampire in the room VERY mad & we almost got killed.
Fast forward to today. When my group heard that story they sorta adopted the saying, but with a difference. "Kick in the door & throw in the halfling!" You see, my wife only plays halfling rogues.
I can think of 2.
Saphire Nightmare Blade: So I had this chacter named Morphail (I pronounced it More-Fail), and he lived up to his namesake. He was a beguiler-swordsage hybrid using the ToB. One of his favorite abilites for a long time was Saphire Nightmare Blade, where you make a concentration check and if you succeed the opponent is flat footed and you deal an extra 1d6, and if you fail you take a penalty to the attack. For 8 levels I used this ability on a regular basis, at least once every combat. Every single time I used it, I rolled >15 on the concentration check and <5 on the attack roll, using a rapier, which was eventuall keened. Without fail. This plagued me for 8 levels, and every time I tried to use it I thought this time will be different. Eventually, I was disguising myself as a charicature of myself (I was a highly public political outlaw leading a rebellion against the government), and I crit with the ability. It was the first time I used it under disguise, and everyone who saw its suspicions of me were destroyed. My disguise was now better because I actually hit.
This now plagues my GM. Durring the APG beta, he was trying out the inquisitor as an NPC. So this guy rides in acting all pompus and arrogant to investigate a crime. Our self righteous stick up his a** Paladin asks him "who the hell are you," to which the GM replied "I am but Justice -" to which the Paladin cut him off and said "Your Butt Justice?" Now we have an NPC, who luckily has only made 2 appearances, named Butt Justice.
Ah, the Dwarf throwing story reminds us of some of our dungeon stand-bys:
TGIF and TTIF
TGIF: Thief Goes in First
and, if that doesn't succeed,
TTIF: Throw the Thief in First!
That's been the case ever since my first party, and we had an annoying GMNPC thief that kept stealing everything (we were 11 years old). It still holds true today. Plus, it's a quick way of finding traps.
Puns are infamous for me, or rather I'm infamous for them, but here are two of my favorites:
A campaign where I was playing an honorable gnoll, cast out from his tribe.
DM: You're standing on a grassy knoll.
Me: Does he mind?
This became a stand-by joke. So much so, that the DM stopped using the term knoll.
And, perhaps my favorite. We were in an evil campaign with a barbarian named Krommerse. We connive our way into a dwarven stronghold and through treachery and violence manage to kill the inhabitants. The barbarian takes over the banquet hall as his personal room.
Me: So that's your hall, right? Yours alone?
Krommerse: Yep. All mine. Though you can visit.
Me: So, what you're saying is that it's the Chamber of Krommerse.
Groans. Ah, they're like sweet wine to a true pun-isher.
They're monks. Monks can do that.
Our party gets ambushed, with the express intent of seizing our rogue, to exact some punishment for a serious slight to a minor noble in the city. The ambush should have gone smoothly. The rogue fails his will save at the start of the surprise round and is completely immobilized (future will saves are inexplicably disallowed).
So two guys grab our rogue and take off at astonishing speed, while the remaining ambushers hold the rest of us off. So far, so good (for the DM, anyway).
In round one, a well placed big bang from the sorcerer and a Channel Neg from our cleric takes all of the little guys out of the fight. Meanwhile, a full attack with a crit leaves their big hitter staggered. And improbably, a ranger entangle spell manages to grab the guy holding our friend (DM rolled that nat 1 in front of us).
So, instead of trying to escape the entangle, the bad guy hurls our rogue, like a football, to his ally who is now forty feet away (with no check, I might add).
To our astonished disbelief, he merely said, "They're monks. Monks can do that."
So, a few bad tactical decisions by our group leaves the wizard on the wrong side of the battlefield and, frankly very exposed. He decides, very wisely, to try to rendezvous with us before attempting another combat action. Unfortunately, his only means of egress is through some very threatened squares, and he is, after all, only a Wizard.
With nothing to lose, he decides to make the roll the dice and hope a miracle can prevent the AoO's that he knows are coming.
With extreme focus, he declares his action, "I'm going to attempt to Acrobate."
...........
The moment of silence ends when the GM says, "Do we need to leave the room?" After several minutes of cleaning Dr. Pepper off of one Core Book, our wizard moves, takes his AoO's like a champ, and to this day, nobody in our group makes an Acrobatics check. No, sir. We Acrobate.
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Contributor, RPG Superstar 2008 Top 6
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"The [insert monster name] gets a concerned look on its face."
Started when the druid's animal companion was magic jarred during a battle with a necromancer who'd faked dieing mid-combat via the spell. They figured out what was going on and annihilated his body. I deadpanned "The lizard gets a concerned look on his face".
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Here's the only one I can think of...
I've never been very good at coming up with names, so one of my early characters in OD&D kept getting referred to just as "my elf".
Now, my brother was taking German classes at the time, and "elf" is German for "eleven". Twelve is "zwolf", so whenever I referred to my nameless elf, he'd quip "zwolf", and so eventually he became "my elf, Zwolf".
There are a few jokes from other games that I'm tempted to try to work into a game now. The "gnome with a catapult" would be hilarious. 8^)
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Hm, a couple other regulars that are a bit shorter:
For a long time we had two standing gags that eventually formed some weird amalgamation. One of the players always wanted a bayonet on anything that he could reasonably have one on, using his definition of reasonable that doesn't fit most peoples.
One of the other players always wanted to use a ballista for some reason, at least jokingly. So one adventure they were aboard a ship and I noted that there was a ballista at the very front and it was immediately stated that they wanted to try and construct a bayonet for it in case they needed to ram something. Since then its been pretty standing thoughts that ballista should have bayonets, even ones mounted on castles or the like which are pretty unlikely to be involved in charges.
The other one is that we have a player who is often the rogue-ish one in the party and whenever he enters a room he announces that he 'Checks for leopards', meaning that he looks above the doorway after having walked into a room and been pounced on by a big cat hiding in an alcove above.
I'm wearing black, he can't see me!
This one is fairly recent. We had a player in our group who was playing an elven rogue. His character was stalking the group in hopes of nabbing their treasure before ultimately befriending and joining them. While following the group through the snow (it was a Frostfell game), darting between trees in the forest, I had the group roll Perception checks. The Druid rolled a natural 20 with a racial bonus and still failed to spot the Rogue. When I asked the player how his stealth was so high he listed off his modifers. Appearently the Druid failed to spot him by the +2 Masterwork Tools bonus from his cloak. Upon finding this out the player jumps up and exclaims "HE CAN'T SEE ME BECAUSE I'M WEARING BLACK! I BLEND IN WITH THE SHADOWS..." He goes on like this for a while until the Fighter points out, "You mean a white cloak? How does black give a bonus to hide in snowy areas?" Without missing a beat the Rogue returns with, "It doesn't matter, it's MASTERWORK! You can't see me, I'm wearing black!" Ever since then whenever someone uses stealth they reference in some way, "He can't see me, I'm wearing black."
"I get a +1 to hit that!"
Player who played the rogue from above was playing a dwarven fighter in another game. Every town we passed through he looked for half-orc women of ill repute. When we finally gave into our curiosity and asked him about it, which we knew was a poor idea, he stated that "as a dwarf, I get a +1 to hit that!" And made a crude gesture. Now not a game goes by where racial attack bonuses can be mentioned without someone needing to re-emphasize the rather immature joke.
The Chest Sucker
This one dates back to AD&D days. While seperated from the rest of our group my paladin had been poisoned by some venomous critter and was unconcious and feeling some very dangerous and potentially lethal effects. The cleric, who was the only other character with mine, wanted to use his healing and herbalism proficencies to give some immediate relief from the symptoms but had no tools at hand to help with. When the DM was partway through explaining that there wasn't much he could do without something to work with, the player stated that he grabbed his dagger, sliced open the wound, and sucked the poison out, then used his vestments as bindings to cover the wound. The rest of the group came upon the shirtless cleric sucking on the paladin's chest. He was laughed at and joked about for several sessions in and out of game, but it worked. Ever since then, whenever someone is poisoned, it is inevitably asked, "Do I get a circumstance bonus on my save if ________ sucks on my chest?"
Michael doesn't reroll!
I have terrible lucks with rerolls (Wujen Spirits, Luck Feats, Luck Domain, Alter Fortune, ect). Always have, always will. It started with the paladin from above. When using my healing proficiency I managed to critically fail and injure my already wounded party, killing one of them. 5 different party members in a row. Later on in 3.5 I played a WuJen with the feat that allowed me to reroll initiative twice and a saving throw once. A fight broke out; rolled a 1 on init. Rerolled. Another 1. Rerolled again. Another 1! Fine I was last, even with improved initiative. Gets to my turn. I cast a spell, need to roll to hit touch AC. A 1!? Really!? Someone shoots me an Alter Fortune. ANOTHER 1! For those of you counting that makes 5 in a row. Enemy's turn. SoD at me. Roll a 1. Of course. Guardian Spirit rerolls it! 7th 1 in a row. I die. Fastforward to a Halfling Cleric / Monk with the luck domain. I roll a 1 vs a Hezrou Stench when encountering it alone, right after rolling a series of 1's with a Shuriken FoB. So much for Halfling Luck. The DM asks if I'd like roll it again with the luck domain. I just sigh. "Why bother. I don't reroll anymore..." A newer player to our group looked around confused and asked why I was hesitant to reroll with odds were I'd pass the saving throw with ease, "barring another 1." The group cracked up. "That's why."
"There is no password!"
I was DMing for a group in a low level mystery solving game. The group decided that they should ask a local thieves guild about the situation at hand, and when they got to the door which was manned by the local figurehead (it was a small community with only about a dozen thieves who belonged to the guiild, so it was pretty appearent that the PC's didn't belong, despite their best efforts to try) they were asked what the password was for entry. Now, there was no password, the thief in this situation was just trying to get them to go away by asking a question they couldn't answer. While the PC's wander a few yards away to discuss their next plan of action, the bard just wanders up and knocks on the door again and says, matter-of-factly, "There's no password! What are you trying to pull!?" Intrigued he let her in to see what she wanted, and she eventually joined and took over the guild through the course of her career. Everytime the group is asked for a password of some kind or are setting up codephrases to pass through their own spell effects, it is now invariably "there is no password!" How she guessed it I'll never know, I didn't even have that written down in my notes, so she couldn't have cheated.
"The answer's kitty, isn't it?"
The PC's in that same game came across a door which had a magic mouth telling them that it was magically sealed and would only unlock with the solving of a riddle (it was unlocked, should the PC's attempt to open it they would be able to pass just fine). The riddle was pretty simple and easy to figure out, even by the dense. The answer was "a cat". One of the PC's figured it out right away and was about to offically guess it, when another PC stopped him and said "There is no way the answer to this ancient puzzle is 'kitty' ." The ancient puzzile in question was a recent addition by a mad mage to an old structure. After more than an hour of trying to solve the riddle with no attempt to find another solution to the problem finally the PC looked up at me and, deadly serious glare on his face, "The answer is kitty, isn't it?" Before a riddle is even finished being read anymore the PC's just start shouting out, "The answer's KITTY!"
"I'm fatigued...?"
Years ago, the DM's younger brother by several years joined the group. He was playing a Barbarian for the first time in 3.X. After ending his rage mid-combat, he asked what being "fat-a-goo'd" meant. Now he was not so young as to not being able to read; in fact he was fairly bright. He was 13, at the time, I want to say. We still tease him about. Not to long ago he came back from basic and I ran a game for him and his brother. In it a majority of the enemies had the Ray of Exhausting or the Critical Feats that could make him fatigued, or any number of things just to poke fun at him. Every game he's in has him fatigued at least once a session.
"_______ is watching!"
One of the player's in a game was beheaded by a vorpal sword. The group went to his character's wife and told her of what happened. She asked if they brought his remains so he could be buried. The head they had, but the body had been destroyed. They told her they had what they could get, but not to worry because, with her blessing, they were going to revive him with magic. She agreed gratefully. They told her they just needed to track down the components for the spell to bring him back and lef tht emajority of their weighty wealth and treasure there. As they were putting down their gear in his estate and about to leave, Fat-a-goo, as we call him from above, couldn't resist his evil temptations. He reaches into his bag and pulls forth the bloody head saying. "And don't think about cheating on your husband. He may be momentarialy dead, but _____ is watching!" Decapitation is always followed with a similar joke.
"Precognitive freak!"
There is one player in my groups who is a precognitive freak. He has the uncanny ability to predict die rolls. "If he rolls a 20 with that scyth things could go really bad for you!" 20. "Well if he rolls minimum damage you are only down and bleeding and not quite dead." Minimum. This like this are repeated a least once a session, altough more often than not with specific numbers cited. I've never heard a false call. Whenever he does it, before the roll is even made we tend to yell in unison "Precognitive freak!"
"It's wearing banded mail!?"
Back when, when 3.0 was fresh, I was getting a feel for the DMing the game and ran a published adventure instead of making my own. The group eventually faced a bugbear by himself who killed half the group. The PC's were rolling decent and failing to hit it regularly. They asked what armor he was wearing, and sure enough, upon looking, his AC was listed but not broken down and there was no listed treasure section. I had to take a moment to do the math. Being a low level adventure in a fairly remote area I was shocked when I discovered "He wearing...BANDED MAIL!?" Ever since then the group has gotten it into their heads that enemies wearing banded mail are obviously amazing. They do all they can not to fight a warrior in banded mail, since for some reason in their minds, a fighter who wears banded mail must be so confident in his abilities he needs no plate. To strike fear into their hearts, all I need to do is describe the BBEG as wearing banded mail.
"I thought we were going to be challenged today."
Mocking dragons and grinding them into dust. No matter how strong they are my groups have excellent luck against dragons. Criticals happen at least twice as often, the dragons roll terribly. They've become jokes without fudging in their favor. It started back in AD&D with the Wyrmslayer kit for Paladins. My paladin double 20'd a old red. Later on we encountered a green dragon. Our Thief lasso'd it and tied it to my mount. 1 opposed STR check later and I was dragging it through the supports of a nearby farmhouse to kill it. We had to buy a new house for the farmer, but the dragon was dead. A dragon appears and most of us are so confident that we chuckle, no matter how big and frightening or how much higher CR it is supposed to be. Last time a BBEG sent two ancient dragons after us we upset him by breaking down laughing when they showed up. "I thought we were going to be challenged today!" Someone said. I was a WuJen into Eldritch Knight. I giant sized to Gargantuan; a full attack with TWF Kukri later and it was dead. The other I wrestled and held pinned why the group taunted it and poked it lazily for damage. Dragons just can't seem to inspire the fear they once did for us. Even well designed dragon encounters are comical due to the rolls of the dice around them. They just flounder. It is a regular joke in our games that dragons are a regular part of life invarious campaign worlds and the populous needs to humor them by acting afraid, but they don't pose any real threat.
It's a little past the season, but this is one of my all-time favorite laughs during a D&D game. It may take a while to tell, but I usually find it's worth it.
When my group plays on or around a holiday (especially on), I try to do a 'holiday special' for them, which can lead to a ton of flavorful fun, like a Halloween party in a Shadowrun game, etc. I don't remember if it was on or near Christmas, but I decided to do a Christmas-themed game and whipped up a one-night encounter.
The party, having successfully defeated the Temple of Elemental Evil, was traveling to Greyhawk to discover more information on some of their magical items and to ask for help with a larger discovered threat. On their way, they passed through the now deserted village of Nulb, since the Temple was defeated and armies disbanded.
Well, a few of the temple's soldiers had decided to 'go legit' and found the deserted village as a perfect place to start an inn. The only problem was, they included a bugbear, and a troll.
I should explain that in this game, alignment for everything save dragons and outsiders was up for grabs, though they did tend in certain directions... A former player always quipped about "Olvar, the Lawful Bugbear" so I stole the idea and had a LN bugbear try to be an innkeeper.
Anyways, the party is passing through Nulb, it's getting late on Yule-eve (the Greyhawkish equivalent of Christmas eve). And they see a light on in the inn. "Hot dang," the party agrees. So they go into the inn and find the bugbear inside, dressed in ill-fitting clothes with a towel over his arm. "Welcome to the Inn of the Welcome Bugbear!" Olvar says.
After much threatening and sword drawing, the party finally calms down enough to see that the Bugbear is running a legitimate business. However, the innkeeper really doesn't know the going rates, so when he claims 1gp a night for boarding, there's a bit more drawing of weapons from the party's dwarven battlerager.
Since they were rolling in cash (seriously, have you ever had a party make it through the ToEE. They are RICH.), it wasn't a problem. And they ask to have their horses boarded. So Olvar calls his stable-boy and servant, Timmy, and tells him (where the party can't see Timmy) to take care of the horses.
Much whinny-ing and chaos later, the party crashes into the stable to see what the matter was, and they find a skinny, short troll cowering in fear from the frenzied horses (since the troll didn't have the least idea how to take care of horses). Much weapon drawing and convincing on the part of Olvar calmed the party before the troll was slain and the barn burned down. (The dwarven battlerager, it should be noted, had tatoos on his feet, one of a troll on one side and another of a troll squashed on the other).
The party tends their own mounts after Olvar agrees to refund a gp.
Dinner is served after an hour or two, with the party wondering what the heck is going on. An unappetizing split-pea soup smell mixed with garlic rolls out of the kitchen.
When the group sits down around the table, Olvar brings out the main dish, Troll souffle. Timmy stands in the corner, regenerating a large strip of flesh that was cut off of him.
The souffle continues to rise...
Most of the party begs (because Olvar has been nothing but exceedingly polite and earnest) that they're not really that hungry. The dwarf chows down and asks for more...even though Troll is the reverse of Chinese food (you eat it and an hour later you're full again).
They find out that Timmy was a cowardly, non-evilish troll in the Temple's armies, and that as such, he was made a cook, meaning, he would strip off bits of flesh, boil them and serve them to the humanoid armies.
The dwarf then asks for seconds.
Olvar asks if it has too much garlic.
Dinner aside, the party retires to their room (they refused to be split up, and even though the inn was empty, they shared a large common room). They set up some watches and go to sleep.
In the night, they hear a clatter down below and harsh voices calling out. They arm themselves and rush downstairs to find Olvar being threatened and abused by a group of human bandits, who are threatening him and breaking what little furniture he had. Meanwhile, Timmy, frightened runs off into the dark of the night, in the middle of a bad blizzard.
After some moral debate, the party decides to defend Olvar and make short work of the nasty bandits. It's too late to find Timmy, so they hunt for him in the morning, with Olvar wringing his hands in dismay, because Timmy is his only friend. He pleads with the party to bring him home safely.
With a shrug, the party's ranger sets out tracking him despite the deep snow. They find him in a frozen pond, one leg stuck deep in the ice and with a good-sized boar jammed through the frozen limb with its tusks. They kill the boar (which one of the party explains that they can cook, because they took the cooking proficiency), and then cut off Timmy's leg (at Timmy's insistence, because it would grow back).
Timmy, it should be noted, talked in a muffled, squeaky voice that I've only used ever for him. A masterpiece of pathetic.
Anyways, rigging up a crutch, they haul the boar back using the leg as a stick to hang it from, and the party contributes supplies to make a large Yule dinner to share with their new friends. Heartwarming as apple pie and puppy kisses.
And, as they all gather around the table and Olvar gets ready to carve the Yule boar, Timmy, standing on his crutch says to one and all:
"Gods bless us, every one."
Beautiful. Especially since the party followed my aim without me telling them what to do. And they didn't see it coming for all the world. It was all set up for that joke. I'm so proud.
"I've got a bonus to open doors!"
Back in the 3.5 days, our group was set up in a situation where we needed to open a series of stuck/barred doors. One character had an affinity for busting open doors. Arriving at one such door he declared, "Let me try, I've got a +2 bonus to break open doors!" He then proceeded to try to open said door...and failed.
Repeatedly.
Throughout the campaign.
I don't think he ever succeeded at the task. IIRC, most of the rolls were under 4. This quote rears its head more often than I'd like.
Big and Powerful (Cards)
Waaaaaay back in the 90s, when Vampires ruled the gaming tables, the prevailing trend at the gaming tables were increasingly (backstabingly) secretive. Notes to the GM and side discussions away from the table were disturbingly frequent. Certain players played this way more than others and annoyed some of the other players at the table. One such player, who we'll call X did this a lot. One game this player spent and inordinate amount of time passing 3x5 cards to the GM, or having secret meetings in another room. Upon returning with the GM to the table, X was confronted by another player who stood up, and declared:
"Darn it, X, you're TOO BIG and TOO POWERFUL!"
To this day, sidebar discussions are "Big and Powerfuls" and 3x5 cards are "Big and Powerful Cards". It is also used as a description of relative effectiveness: "So and so's Fighter is Big and Powerful" or the inverse: "We're all just Weak and Pathetic".
Back several years ago I used to play only big, beefy Fighters, especially in 2nd Edition when I rolled an 18/22 guy that was just awesome. Anyway, when 3rd Edition came around we encountered the "30-foot-rule" for the first time, where you can't attack if you move past 30 feet. There must have been five or six games where the point of the party, namely me, the big, beefy fighter, would be the first person at the doorway or archway to battle whatever was in the next room. He would, of course, stop at the doorway to save his attack movement.
So I get to the doorway and with my big sword out I announce to the party, "I'm in the doorway!". Of course, even with 3.0+ rules about moving through friendly squares, the GM was quick to give the bad guys a free AOO every time the other good guys tried to move past me to get inside the room for melee range. Anyone with a bow on the outside was flummoxed by my big, beefy backside preventing them from hitting anything else inside the room. So for several games there was usually a lot of griping and complaining from the other players about having to wait an entire round until the front-line Fighter was out of the doorway and in the room proper. Everyone else at the table would shout at me to "get out of the way!" I usually did this with a five-foot-step to the side.
So now, around the gaming table, whenever someone approaches the door or archway I like to shout out "He's at the doorway!", at which point everyone else shouts "Get out of the doorway!", surprising any new players at the table.
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"I cast Muffin version 2."
I created this spell after version 1 was jokingly made. Version 1 summoned a muffin.
When asked what Muffin version 2 did, I calmly replied
"It summons this dragon that I named Muffin."
Sadly, the DM for that game moved. On the other hand, she did tell us that she had gotten "annoyed" with a co-worker and told him "I cast Muffin version 2!".
RPG Superstar 2009 Top 32, 2010 Top 8
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Ok, this one I remember.
Party ranger, trying to get to prestige into battle maiden (OA) took all the mounted combat feats, had the lance, and everything. She almost never hit with the lance (bad rolls).
It became the runnin joke to make galloping noises, fadeing out then the 'slamming on the brakes' noise and while turning like you were looking at the target you just road past.
I threatened to get a mounted mini, take the head off the rider, and put it on backwards, just for her.
The mention of owlbears above reminds me of a short lived session where we created the ultimate monster... The cougerhulkhawk. Part couger, part umberhulk, part hawk. It was another time when exageration got the best of us and we ended up with something that will always live with us. My friend has a strange obsession with umberhulks and we were talking about owlbears and it just went from there. They're as sneaky as a couger, as powerful as an umberhulk, and can fly. They sit up in trees and prowl, swooping in on their prey.
The mention of owlbears above reminds me of a short lived session where we created the ultimate monster... The cougerhulkhawk. Part couger, part umberhulk, part hawk. It was another time when exageration got the best of us and we ended up with something that will always live with us. My friend has a strange obsession with umberhulks and we were talking about owlbears and it just went from there. They're as sneaky as a couger, as powerful as an umberhulk, and can fly. They sit up in trees and prowl, swooping in on their prey.
"Tired of all your friends questioning your manhood? There's only one solution - Thundercougarfalconbird."
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With one group I was in, was playing a half-orc fighter. Dumb as a stump, INT 8, but STR 22 at 5th level. Not sure how these days.
My character missed his footing on a ridge and slide down to the river below and ticked off an owlbear.
The others couldn't get there, so it was just me and the owlbear.
EVERY attack roll for both the owl bear and my character were 1s.
We never hit each other.
Eventually it got tired and ran off. I missed on the AoO (1 of course).
A few sessions later, another owlbear. It tried to hit me, rolled a 1. I tried to hit it, rolled a 1. And so on.
Fifth time we ran into an owlbear and we couldn't hit each other, the party rogue, who is a real smartass in character and in R/L started announcing "Dancing with Owlbears!"
Another campaign later had an owlbear trainer who trained them to dance and danced with them.
I hit the DM with several french fries LOL