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Hey, Shadow Lodge, your faction leader so ugly...when I cast Summon Monster, Grandmaster Torch appears!
Hey, Taldor, your empire so faded...it gets +20 to stealth checks.
Hey, Silver Crusade, you're so unpopular...even the Prone Shooter feat won't take you.
Hey, Grand Lodge, your agents so dumb...when it got dark outside, they went to the Lantern Lodge to buy a lamp!
Hey, Season 0, you so easy...people call you Day Job.
Hey, Season 4, you so deadly...Synthesist Summoners want to ban YOU.
Hey, Sczarnis, Guaril's so crooked he stole the end of thi--
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The Musket Master, having the highest initiative, swings his weapon about and blasts the nearest thug for an obscene amount of damage. As he reloads his musket, he turns to the Zen Archer and proclaims, "One shot, one kill."
The Zen Archer, having the next highest initiative, spends a ki point and fires a flurry of shots at the remaining thugs, killing them all. He turns to the Musket Master and serenely says, "Many shots, many kills."
Ezren, finally receiving initiative, surveys the carnage about him and says, "What can I do? Should I cast a spell? Should I do the Hand of the Apprentice thingy? Do I need to roll? Or should I drink a potion or something?"
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Your character is so racist Mengakare said "daaaaaaaaam"
Your character is so stupid animal companions beat him at checkers
Your character is so unoptimized bards give him wedgies
Your character kills so many sentients the Andorans are getting worried.
Your character is so ugly they made the paracountess go celibate.
Your character has failed so many faction missions he needs to use chronicle sheet loot
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This reminds me of the "Yo mamma's CR so low..." jokes I came up with a while ago for taunting monsters:
Yo mamma's CR so low her touch AC is "yes".
Yo mamma's CR so low PCs is docked XP for killin' her.
Yo mamma's CR so low she don't have hit dice, just a coin toss.
Yo mamma's CR so low the only sub-type she qualifies for is "mount".
Yo mamma's CR so low she uses a d6 for saving throws.
Yo mamma's CR so low she just has a single stat line.
Yo mamma's CR so low dopplegangers die from cloning her.
Yo mamma's CR so low she can't even do non-lethal damage.
Yo mamma's CR so low if she was a swarm "Alchemist's Fart" would kill her.
Yo mamma's CR so low you'd think she the "LAME" template applied.
Yo mamma's CR so low only a Paladin with "Detect Suck" could find her.
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The Bartender says, "We don't serve your kind here."
The Andoran Pathfinders say, "Why not?!"
And the Bartender says, "Because you want everything free."
Ambrus leads him to a large granite hall with names and numbers carved into every single inch of the plain stone walls.
"What is this?" asks the Pathfinder.
"These are all the past and present members of the Pathfinder Society," explains Ambrus.
The Pathfinder smiles then asks to see more of the Grand Lodge.
Ambrus continues the tour and they come upon a medium hall made of obsidian. Candles flicker somberly in front of gold plaques, each plaque bearing a name and a date.
"What is this?" asks the Pathfinder.
"These are all our brethren who have fallen serving the society," explains Ambrus.
The Pathfinder bows his head for a moment then asks to see more of the Grand Lodge.
Ambrus leads them to a small, elegant chamber with walls of marble adorned with portraits of mighty warriors and powerful casters.
"What is this?" asks the Pathfinder.
"These are all the most experienced who have risen to the rank of Seeker...and the fewer still who have become Venture Captains," explains Ambrus.
Impressed, the Pathfinder thanks Ambrus for the tour.
As they make their way out of the Grand Lodge, they pass an extremely tiny room...and the Pathfinder is stunned at what he sees.
The delicate doors are crafted from Darkwood, harvested from the Darkwood Vale under a full moon by a revered Patron of the Grove. The doors glide upon hinges of dwarf-forged Elysian Bronze, the precious metal salvaged from deep within the towering Kodar Mountains from the long-thought-lost treasure vault of the ancient mad titan, Kariustyl. Music, almost too beautiful to listen to, spills softly forth from the room, its haunting notes weaving themselves into the souls of all who listen, reminding them of their own fleeting and ephemeral existence. In the air wafts the teasing scent of rare Arcadian spices, the exotic smell hinting at tales of a wild, unknown land beyond the ruins of fallen Azlant on the far side of Golarion. A pitifully few plaques, thick with the pantina of time, hang on the wall...each bearing an honored name carefully engraved by an inhumanly elegant hand that was, no doubt, honored by the mere act of doing so.
"Yeah, that room is for the roleplayers."
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First strode in the snarling Gorilla King of Usaro, Ruthazek.
A cloaked figure asked, "Why do you deserve membership in our brotherhood most foul?"
Ruthazek bellowed at the assembly, "I am the chosen of the Demon Lord Angazhan! I am the smasher of the Taldan army and the keeper of their Worldbreaker! I am the shatterer of Jaytirian! FEAR ME!"
After a brief flurry of whispers, the figure spoke again.
"We find you...worthy."
The jungle monarch roared in approval and took his place in the circle of evil.
Next floated in a chariot of bones pulled by horses of shadow and death driven by the immortal ghost king, Geb.
The cloaked figure asked again, "Why do you deserve membership in our brotherhood most foul?"
"I am Geb. I defiled my own people and turned them into undead. I have slain untold hundreds of thousands from Nex. I have profaned the revered Knights of Ozem by turning their mightiest warriors into my personal gravekights and made their herald of Aroden into my own Harlot Queen!"
After a brief flurry of whispers, the figure spoke again.
"We find you...worthy."
An unholy chorus from the underworld wailed its approval as Geb took his place in the circle of evil.
Finally, a pitiful human warrior stumbled into the room wielding nothing but the most basic of weapons and wearing cheap armor.
The cloaked figure asked yet again, "Why do you deserve membership in our brotherhood most foul?"
"I'm a Pathfinder and--"
The cloaked figure interrupted.
"Yeah, yeah. Worthy. You guys will do ANYTHING for 2PP and 1XP."
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The bartender says, "Hey, we don't serve your kind here."
The Season 5 Faction Missions say, "Why not?"
The bartender says, "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure because it changes depending on what time it is. You guys wouldn't happen to remember? No. Hmmm. Ok. Uh, how about you just act all faction-y and I'll let you know when you're close? I guess? That work? Cool."
Great Thread
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GM:
OK, the dragon roars in anger at your arrogant rescue attempt of the princess. Chunky Monky, you're up.
Chunky Monky the Monk:
Ok, I move up to the dragon, use acrobatics to avoid the AOO and grapple him. My CMB is--
GM:
I'm sorry, CM. It's not realistic that medium-sized human could grapple a gargantuan-sized dragon.
Chunky Monky:
Uh, ok. Hmmm....Chunky Monky yells to the party, "I'll grab the princess!" She's on the other side of the chasm, right?
GM:
Yes, it's a 40' chasm. She's on a 10x10 ledge that the dragon flew over and dropped her on.
Chunky Monky:
I spend a Ki Point increase my speed by 20'. I now move at 80' round and get a +20 bonus to my acrobatics. With a running start and my normal acrobatics bonuses, I'm pretty close to autosuceeding on the DC 40 jump--
GM:
I'm sorry, CM. It's not realistic that you could jump 40'. The world record is only 30'.
Chunky Monky:
(sighs)
...ok...I spend a Ki Point to increase my speed by 20'. I now have 80' of movement. I use the Run action to move 320' in a straight line--
GM:
I'm sorry--
Chunky Monky:
DAMMIT!
GM:
--CM. You would be moving 36 miles per hour.
(turns to another player)
That's 58 kph for you, Maple.
Maple the Winter Witch from the Great White North:
Thanks, eh!
GM:
Usain Bolt, the fastest human alive, can only run 27 miles per hour. So...
Chunky Monky:
(silence)
GM:
Your action?
Chunky Monky:
I delay.
GM:
You sure?
Chunky Monky:
Yes.
GM:
Hawking, you're up.
Hawking:
I swift action cast Quickened True Strike. As a standard action I cast my memorized Reach Plane Shift.
(rolls dice)
From 50' away, I rip a hole in the fabric of space and time and teleport the Dragon to an entirely different dimension.
Chunky Monky:
Wait, what?
GM:
(rolls dice)
The Dragon fails his save. With an anguished roar, he is sucked into the temporary wormhole you created.
Chunky Monky:
The Dragon WHAT?!
GM:
Congratulations, you have--
Hawking:
I still have a move action left.
Chunky Monky:
OH COME ON!
GM:
Whoops! Go ahead, Hawking.
Hawking:
I use my Fly spell to traverse the chasm and offer my arm to the princess. "Do not worry, milady. I shall Teleport us across the whole continent and directly into your palace room in but a moment."
GM:
The princess--
Chunky Monky:
I come off delay.
GM:
Uh, ok, combat is over...but go ahead.
Chunky Monky:
I run and throw myself into the chasm.
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Your stats are so well rounded ... you get a split and then thrown in the gutter.
Your bluff score is so bad... you tried to tell a halfling his shoes were untied.
Your swim score is so low... you drowned in debt.
Crane wing nerfed you so hard ...you now come in extra crispy and original recipe.
You necro'd a thread so badly... i went to favorite a joke before I saw it was mine.
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@Sammy T, This thread is so good you could tell all of your jokes twice ;)
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Your spell selection is so poor the rogue takes pity on you.
Your AC is so low the Invulnerable Rager lends you his Cloak of Minor Displacement.
Your will save is so low you make playing early season scenarios a viable challenge.
Your class is so poor Paizo replaced it with a single trait.
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Your spells are so bad you not only cantrip you do! *looks ashamed*
Your charisma is so low magic devices use you.
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Your eidolon build has so many flaws that if we were playing 3.5 it would have more feats than a fighter.
Your eidolon is so weak it got demoted to animal companion.
Your animal companion is so weak it got demoted to familiar.
Your familiar is so weak it got demoted to rogue.
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Your Oracle is so lame your speed is never reduced due to encumbrance.
Your legalistic curse is so good at law it can change the meaning of the word curse and just be a benefit.
Your wood Oracle is so dumb it doesn't even take a question for him to be stumped.
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Your Magus is so weak you should call it Surprising Grasp.
Your Gunslinger is so broken if she they fire again they should explode.
Your Magus is so dumb he cannot even spell combat.
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How will you be able to tell how many high level Pathfinders there are in a group in six months time by counting only one class? Count the Evangelists.
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Your Paladin is so self righteous his best mercy is shutting up.
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Your rogue is so jealous of other classes he turns green and gets stronger... no wait that's the alchemist, what can rogues do again?
Your Faction Leader is so slutty she could make a succubus blush.
Your Empire is so decadent there national sport is inbreeding.
Your Faction leader is so crooked Grand Master Torch would not play him at poker.