Most heartbreaking thing your DM has said?
>Army of enemy nation advancing on village
>We fucked up negotiations REAL bad
>Enemy general will let us live if the village surrenders
>Fucktard leader thinks we can hold them off
>Gets himself, 2 other party members, and a lot of the villagers killed
>Enemy general has a sense of mercy
>Gives us a day of ceasefire to bury our dead and recover.
>My guy volunteers to help clear town of bodies
>The DM said something that really stuck with me:
"As you heave the bodies of both young and old alike, you look around. You see fathers burying their sons and daughters, wives and mothers weeping, and the dead and dying piled everywhere. You lift the body of a boy on top of the heap, knowing the weight you lift is nothing compared to the burden you carry in your heart."
>Old men and women are dead, as well as craftsmen and professional people; tailors, shoemakers, tinsmiths, jewellers, house painters, ironmongers, bookbinders,workers, freight handlers, millers, bakers and cooks; also dead are physicians, prosthesists, surgeons, gynaecologists, scientists - bacteriologists, biochemists, directors of university clinics, teachers of history, algebra, trigonometry. Dead are professors, lecturers and doctors of science, engineers and architects. Dead are agronomists, field workers, accountants, clerks, shop assistants, supply agents, secretaries, nightwatchmen, dead are teachers, dead are babushkas who could knit stockings and make tasty buns, cook bouillon and make strudel with apples and nuts, dead are women who had been faithful to their husbands and frivolous women are dead, too, beautiful girls, and learned students and cheerful schoolgirls, dead are ugly and silly girls, women with hunches, dead are singers, dead are blind and deaf mutes, dead are violinists and pianists, dead are two-year olds and three year olds, dead are eighty year old men and women with cataracts on hazy eyes, with cold and transparent fingers and hair that rustled quietly like white paper, dead are newly born babies who had sucked their mothers breasts greedily until their last minute.
>Most heartbreaking thing your DM has said?
>"I'm sorry guys, but I can't do this anymore."
More than just the skype call ended that day.
>I have not really had any campaigns last long enough to get into real emotional territory
The easiest way to get into real emotional territory fast is killing a PC's parents by the fourth session. It gives the PC motivation, it lets you introduce the BBEG in a dramatic way, everyone wins.
Well, actually, that's not entirely true.
There was the one time I had to take over as DM.
It was during a climactic moment, and my DM told me something no healing potion can fix (in-character, out of character it was kind of disagreeable but I was also expecting it).
>"When the players enter, the thugs have an action primed to slit the captives' throats."
Said captives were two former PCs whose players had to leave the game for undisclosed reasons.
When they entered, they found that the thugs had fled, and decided to take the character's lives as they did.
>The most hackneyed way to get into real emotional territory fast is killing a PC's parents by the fourth session.
1. My players rarely ever have involved parents.
2. I would never introduce a BBEG so early in a game. I promise you, nothing is more cringe-inducingly painful than having the BBEG be introduced and twiddle his thumbs while you're level 1.
My campaign is currently 16 sessions into our new version, and there is no "BBEG" at all, nor will there be til much later.
My campaigns are always lighthearted. Reality sucks ass why the fuck would I ever bring that kind of gravity to the table. Chips, beer, kicking down doors, killing jive ass liches and banging fine ass bitches. We all have crappy jobs, now that we're getting older we're picking up our own scars. We've lost loved ones, had marriages fail, one of us lost his 18 year old dog last month. The table is where we have fun. If you guys are somehow eager to explore pain I don't know what to say to you other than that's fucking retarded.
C'mere, anon. You get a hug. I can definitely relate.
I miss her so much. Sometimes I get the urge to text her something funny and then I realize, I can't. Sometimes I actually send it before I come to my senses and then it's worse than ever, because there's about fifteen other messages in a row like that from me going up through the thread without any replies.
>Chips, beer, kicking down doors, killing jive ass liches and banging fine ass bitches.
This is not fun. This has never been fun.
You are not a good addition to this hobby. You are the Gamer Girl of tabletop.
We broke up, and not amiably. I called her a cheating whore and slapped her hard enough to break her jaw. Really, it was depressing all round. The villain was kind of sympathetic for an Oblivion-worshipping knight, but he'd made it personal.
Your dude needs better taste in women by the sound of it. My DM did the same thing to me. The love interest wasn't a big deal, she was more ofva background info character, hardly even got a mention. But he did practically this, with no explanation and it ran contrary to both the BBEG and the love interest's (admittedly shallow) characterisation. I think he was trying to rustle my jimmies because he doesn't like me irl. I think he has a thing for my sister and thinks I'm cock blocking him when infact he's just a creepy shit head.
>This is not fun. This has never been fun.
It's more fun than whatever shitty 7 hour marathon session you want to run.
Game night should include more than just playing pretend in your dining room or basement, it should include shit like movies or outdoor activities or even going out for dinner.
>I called her a cheating whore and slapped her hard enough to break her jaw.
Wait, so the knight wasn't an old fling, but a guy she was actively banging while you and her were an "item?"
>Game night should include more than just playing pretend in your dining room or basement, it should include shit like movies or outdoor activities or even going out for dinner.
We've been doing it wrong holy shit
D&D night should not be about playing D&D.
How did we never realize this?
If only we had been getting drunk with manchildren and watching movies instead of roleplaying we could have been having real fun.
>mfw my character's noble love interest ran off with the lesbian knight we saved
>mfw the DM treated this as the "good end" for the character arc
>mfw the DM never even dangled the possibility of a new love interest after this
At least he didn't marry her. Right? Your guy didn't marry her did he?
> tfw delicious anticipation
He'd taken her as a hostage, and apparently they got very close when we were fighting our way (over several months) to his Outer Plane stronghold.
I'll state that he seemed to be having second thoughts about his master plan, but I wasn't in the mood to take his surrender when he offered it. Still, now he's damned to eternal torment.
That's good. Love interests are an irksome diversion and uncomfortable for the other players to witness. Just kill some monsters and be a big damn hero marry a goid baby making wife who can cook real good and have a big family. Invite your old adventuring buddies and those two dykes around for a feast every year and laugh about it all.
>Just kill some monsters and be a big damn hero marry a goid baby making wife who can cook real good and have a big family
Why not get the best of both worlds?
Play an adventurer that's already married and is currently out adventuring to pay the bills, scratch that itch, and get a nice lump sum of cash to pay for a newer, better home for their growing brood of children.
You get to choose the love interest, you can interact with them as much or as little as you want, and it discourages the DM from dangling fresh ass in your face.
This is what I did for my Pathfinder character, his wife was a Kitsune Sorceress.
Why not? Do you honestly expect every DM - especially a good DM - to do something cheap or sleazy with the family?
Because when someone tried to do something sleazy with my character's wife, she literally ripped his balls off.
"You never heard the shot, how could you as the shells continued to fall. But the dull thud of the body falling drowned out even the roar of the bombardment."
The rest of the party found my character cradling his body in a muddy artillery crater. He'd shot himself rather than dealing with the hell of the war.
One of my characters got 'retired' this way.
He's still active, but he
made a deal with a LE demon to return from the Feywild after the party warlock betrayed him. The demon is evil, but their bargain got approved by the god of light- the demon had fought against a greater evil in the past, and was basically calling in his favor.
The character still hasn't forgotten what the warlock did, but they used to be allies and he has his kids and wife to lose if they ever fought, so he's waiting until the kids are out of the house to reveal that he knew all along.
Comfy throne, his own life and his children's guaranteed by his patron to live until his firstborn has grown to full strength. Still called out for fighting the good fight to keep his skills sharp.
That's all VERY reliant on your DM. Most aren't very good and will kill them off for drama or for motivation which I have never needed more of because I follow the tracks, and drama is wasted on me because it is draining and I have my own problems to use that energy on.
>Most aren't very good and will kill them off for drama or for motivation which I have never needed more of because I follow the tracks
Honest question for you and everyone else; have you *actually* had a DM that did this?
>Finally at the BBEGs, confronting him
>He creates a massive magical image behind him
>It's the safe house we left our significant relations at because we knew all hell was gonna break loose when we assault his fortress
>It's on fire
My DMs exact words were
>Yes they're inside
>No they can't get out
>No you can't do anything
>Yes they will almost certainly die
The intimidation tactic kinda backfired. The entire party went berserk and seriously pushed his shit in. Like, beat him most of the way to death and then psychologically mutilated him so bad that he curled up into a comatose ball of depression and died of starvation because he could no longer eat after we handed him over to the authorities.
On the plus side, my children survived the fire. On the downside, their grand father (an elder god) took them into his custody until we deal with all the remainders of the BBEGs organization.
I had a DM pull this shit too. I had my character kill him too, painlessly. When the bitch looked up at my character he said, "I spared him the suffering he caused so many because of my feelings for you."
I had my character join a mercenary army after and just fade away. I loved playing that character, wish he could've gotten a happier ending.
Should have expanded. We were playing a not-WW1 game and my character got separated from the rest of the party during a charge into the enemy trenchline. He'd got shot during the charge and managed to drag himself into an old artillery crater for shelter.
Rather than let me do nothing for the rest of the game the DM gave me an NPC buddy in the same situation as me. He got seperated from his squad and managed to find his way to my little crater. He patched me up and we huddled in that hole as the big guns started firing again, deciding to wait out the barrage before trying to get back to our friends.
And when the party was about to risk a run to get me he blew his brains out.
He was always going to be temporary, and due to how the DM described him I knew he would end up in some war hospital after we were rescued or managed to get back ourselves. But he always knew how to get to me.
I swear, motherfucker is a sociopath.
>Their grand father (an elder god)
back the fuck up, what?
Well grandfather should really have been in quotes, it's just the only convenient way of describing the relationship. My character is a Great Old One warlock who is very close with their patron. Part of their relationship is that the character is essentially the God's vessel on the material plane. My character got into a relationship with the party paladin and knocked her up. The three babies are all part Elder God/Outer Being because of that.
The Elder God is more like a second father/third non-gendered parent, but that's not totally accurate and a little confusing so the party has just been calling him the grandfather.
It's not really. It's arguably the weakest of the three pacts in 5e as far as spell choices are concerned and it's passives are much better for role play related stuff than combat or utility.
"I know, Jon... I do know. But I just can't get the damned fog to clear...
This from the wizened mage who had mentored our group's own mage before the campaign started. We managed to span over a dozen years, and occasionally the mage would re-visit his mentor, who was increasingly scatter-brained. But the DM had (presumably) been playing the situation for laughs the whole time... Until that moment, and then everyone at the table had a kind of grim moment looking at each other and questioning whether laughing at it beforehand made us bad people.
>Gaming isn't about having fun, it's a hobby
>like buying a toy and leaving it sealed to keep it mint
now that's what I call a godfather
The DM I used to play under was both the best and worst I've ever had. There are many reasons for this, but if there was one thing his games always were, it was memorable. They got into you, and I steel pine for the campaigns that were left unfinished.
As to the most heartbreaking things,
One of my fellow players was brought to tears, when his character was told by his sister
>It's too late for that Vincent
as she walked out of his life. It would not be the first nor last time this player would be moved at the table.
One such time, I conspired to make him do it to himself.
The most he ever moved me was during a situation that he made feel very much like the natural consequences of the party's own decisions (and largely it was). In the short, it resulted with my character seeing his brothers kill each other and the nation he had built implode. In the long, it ended with my character locked in a box. It was the future I chose.
I don't think I'll ever understand drama queen GM's like this. Why would you want to see a character you invested hours playing as go through so much pointless emotional torment? How is making your actual friends and players cry considered a success for these people? I can't see why you would call anything a game that involves it's participants being put through that kind of emotional distress.
I mean, having them go through trials and tribulations and ultimately coming out stronger for it is one thing, but it seems to me a lot of GM's just like to inject needless drama into their games because playing with people's heartstrings gets their jimmies a rustlin'.
"Sigismund Whitewillow walks into the portal with the Sun Orb and disintegrates, taking a last, apologetic look at you."
Sigi was his DMPC, we take turns DM-ing and he was the DM that time. We grew to love his character a lot, his bumbling around in social situations, his unwavering dedication to his companions, his propensity to do well thought out good deeds, and his growing affection for our characters, breaking out of his depressed shell to find best friends in us.
Thankfully, it was just a setup for his character arc, him becoming a Favored Soul of the Sun itself (not even Pelor), and by the last session, we've gotten to being leaders of his rebel army against his country's corrupted leaders and an elder vampire. It was cathartic to finally find him in the middle of a gargantuan necropolis after months of searching, fighting off undead with the power of Light.
I wouldn't call it drama queens. Some groups
have funwatching stories and characters go to dark places. Tragic heroes are nothing but cathartic, and to play it out collaboratively can be pretty rewarding. Eventually I'll get a heroic last stand out of my gms, but so far their deus ex machinas are blueballing my sacrifice game.
It was never needless, in the sense that it always felt like the natural culmination of events and our own decisions. Tiresome, yes, I found it exhausting after a time and aired complaints as such, but there were still laughs and successes along the way; the thread was about heartbreak, so the conversation is focusing on it, ken?
Ultimately, different people play at different tables. I can enjoy a beer-and-pretzels game from time to time, but if I'm settling in for a campaign, I cannot stand a world that feels hollow or a DM that seems thoughtless. "Carefree" abrades my sensibilities. It's not a table I like to play at.
That the other player, my friend, was moved to tears was not an accomplishment of the DM as part of an agenda of tormenting his players, but evidence of real accomplishment: he had engaged and immersed us so fully into the game that we felt the impact when the hammer dropped.
It was something he was so adept at that even the best of books tend to pale in comparison.
Really? I include brothers/sisters/family all the time.
WFRP 2nd Ed, one of my players rolls a Kislevite Cossar who lives as a sellsword. He detailed that he comes from a large family who most of the village have ties to by kith or kin. I had one of his brothers track him down in a port with a number of his old friends, having kept him in mind for a high profile heist.
It turned into them being captured, and his dad and uncle coming to bail them out before having them work off the debt protecting their caravan home, then missions in that village.
>Most heartbreaking thing your DM has said?
>you suck at this game get the fuck out of my house you fucking faggot
>PC had been infected/possessed with an intelligent parasitic crystal as part of his backstory
>crystal eventually fully possesses him and forces him to kill the party
>rest of part subdues him and destroys the crystal but because they had been bonded so long he could not live without its essence sustaining him (by request of the player)
>begins dying slowly despite desperate efforts of party to save him
"He coughs out another cloud of silvery smoke; he is disintegrating him from the inside out, and it won't be long now. His skin is turning chalky and ashen, and his hair is falling out in clumps. Any last words, PC?"
>he says to his closest friend in the party
"You were like the son I never had. I only wish things could have been better between us"
>I have to say the following
"He almost seems at peace as a rattling breath leaves him, the last few tendrils of white wisp rising and then vanishing into the cold desert night’s air. His body begins to crack. Flakes fall piece by piece and then all at once. Slowly, the body that had once been <PC> sifted into silvery sand that was swept behind the traveling carpet by the desert winds.
>closest friend describes how he frantically grabs at the sand, trying to hold onto it for just a second longer
>the entire table's face when, me included
I came for feels, now I've got them. Thank you for sharing.
I'd like more storytime about crystalbro, if possible - how and why did he come to be possessed? Also, did the player approve of you killing his character?
Didn't plan on writing this out beforehand so it might be a while, here goes.
>Before meeting party, crystalbro is not crystalbro yet, just an archaeological researcher on expedition to lost city
>They found the city still inhabited, leader of expedition reveals he knew that and his plan all along was to violently take it over and plunder its resources
>Many in expedition refuse to follow the order to slaughter the inhabitants, including crystalbro and his pregnant wife
>All dissenters are summarily executed and thrown in the sea with no ceremony except crystalbro who escaped
>Crystalbro goes into hiding in the tombs under the city, finds an ancient vault full of memory crystals containing knowledge of the city
>One crystal is actually the stored consciousness of a long dead archivist driven insane by centuries of isolation, they make contact
>Crystal offers deal: Let me bond to your body and soul, and I will help you get vengeance
>Crystalbro agrees, becoming psychically linked to crystal and agreeing to follow its directions to get revenge
>Throughout campaign, crystal directs crystalbro to do seemingly random things and talk to random people, crystal assures it's all part of the plan
>Lots and lots of adventuring later, party comes to ancient cave full of powerful magical artifacts, crystal reveals this was his plan all along
>Crystal fully possesses crystalbro, absorbing the power of the cave, informs him/party that crystalbro was just a means to an end and it never intended to uphold its end of the deal
>Party is pretty sure that crystalbro is an unwilling host (partially true) and disables crystalbro without killing him, smashing crystal to pieces
The player and I agreed in the beginning that the only way his character would be free of the crystal's influence would be death, and I was very clear with him before the last session that his character would become the final boss of the adventure. He thought it was a great end to a great PC.
I can't take all the credit, about 40% was the player's idea, but thanks.
>dead are physicians, prosthesists, surgeons, gynaecologists, scientists - bacteriologists, biochemists, directors of university clinics, teachers of history, algebra, trigonometry.
That must be one huge village.
>dead are newly born babies who had sucked their mothers breasts greedily until their last minute.
Why did a general with a sense of mercy go around slaughtering civilians in a modern setting?
For the same reason you listen to sad songs and watch heart wrenching dramas comrade, because negative emotion can be just as impactful and fulfilling in a story as positive emotion. If you and your group like all that noblebright stuff that's all good but if there's no tragedy to be found then the good bits feel empty to me personally.
I love campaigns in which a PC somehow turns against the party in a way that's tragic, and becomes a villainous NPC, requiring their death at the hands of the party. Or even the final boss, of the entire campaign, like here. I wish I had a DM that would collaborate with players this way.
I was playing a high elf noble who was adventuring. Thing is he was like fourth in line for the family throne and he was adventuring to get away from an arranged marriage. So first the DM decides to have the BBEG kill his family and he's like "Aw shucky ducky, I'm now a duke!" Later she has a dragon make off with his fiancee (who she didn't really know he hated) and he was all "aw yiss, marriage annulled, let's go to a whorehouse and spend all thus ducal money on fine bitches"
The DM was pissed that every by-the-book tragedy they tried imparting on the character ended up making them better off.
It got to the point where, when my character got too rich to realistically spend his gold I was afraid she'd try to take his money away somehow. So he cut a deal with a dragon that the dragon could horde over his gold in exchange for him issuing promissory notes based off the value of his treasure hoard. The DM was pissed AF.
It was! My character was so pleased with the dragon getting him out of a bad marriage he basically made him the minister of the treasury of his fief. Dragon threatened to eat the wife so my elf literally refused to go help her. The party was uncomfortable leaving without me and he rolled high on persuade that the dragon was "just bluffing."
Wife was dead. DM was pissed. Game fell apart before she could figure out a way to actually punish me. She blamed me a lot for ruining the pacing of the story, when I told her that DMs and players are supposed to have a friendly, adversarial relationship and we should be trying to fuck up eachothers' stories whenever possible.
"I don't understand, you are offering me gold for me to eat your wife? Surely you missed a very important 'not' in that sentence?"
>nah, nah, she has a huge huge vore fetish, go right ahead, don't worry if she screams she always roleplays in bed
"I, uh, I mean ew, it was a bluff, I was never really going to eat her to begin with!"
>even if I offer double? Man, what a ripoff
It's a lot heavier with the context but that'd be a short book rather than a greentext
>nearly system-less murder mystery campaign
>playing a race nearly immune to all poisons with keen sense of taste/smell
>only npc I not only trust is innocent but also enjoy the company of invites me over to his bar after closing hours
>brought my recent findings to try and solve the mystery, we had a decent idea going
>taste testing his new brews I helped him make as an alchemist
>a few mugs in he breaks out the fanciest, most exotic wine
>settles to stomach
>receive private message from DM
>"You feel the burn of the poison."
At that moment, with the bartender writhing in agony, I realized I was now the prime suspect and lost my only friend in the campaign.
Don't know about the others, but for me the reason is... because i'm a sadist.
When you're a writer or a GM for a story-heavy campaign, you have to be at least a little bit of a sadist. It's all about knowing how to make the audience react, whether it's readers or players. Knowing just how much to twist the knife without dulling them to the pain is essential to making players react to sad events in-game.
Rogue Trader is a bit more lenient with power levels and I introduced him session 1. He took over the PC ship. Blew the brains out of a PC whose player couldn't make the session. Told them they worked for him now. They refused so he executed an NPC that, I was told later, everyone loved. Told them again.
They agreed that time. But damn it if they didn't want revenge.
I've been told a few times that was the best BBEG I ever had, even if it was Gustavo Fring the rogue trader.
>Why not? Do you honestly expect every DM - especially a good DM - to do something cheap or sleazy with the family?
Yes. We all do.
We all propagate this meme, of not having a family in rpgs, because each and every one of us played with a good GM, one they tought they could Trust with a PC with a lot of in-built plot hooks and family ties, and had everything fucking destroyed.
When a shit GM does this You don't give a shit: you're not invested in the characters anyway. You stereotipically "scream" a momotone "nooooooo..." and you're done with it and right back trying to salvage the campaign with the other players. Having fun DESPITE a shit gm is easy if You don't give a shit. Having fun AT him might well be one of our hobby's secret pleasures.
When a good GM does it, then fuck You.
FUCK YOU I LOVED THOSE CHARACTERS! FUCK YOU TO HELL!
And then You realize this glorious bastard played You like a fiddle.
Then You realize you're suffering over pretend people You only cared about because this asshole decided to play with your feelings.
This is Why we fight.
Never have a family, never have built in plot hooks, never have a backstory beyond the barest minimum.
Not because of shit GMs. Because of good GMs.
>tfw thee only characters I've made that lasted more than a few sessions all had motivations related to family
>first character was a widower who, after going mad with grief, threw himself into his medical work to the point of having a psychotic obsession with anatomy
>he was the oldest character in the party, and whenever we had huge breaks in adventuring, would be all quiet and watch the younger party members with a tired expression
>GM kept throwing npcs to other players to get them invested, and I kept waiting for my turn, or at least a chance to get a connection with another PC
>no NPC to bring my character out of his funk, the one PC that actually interacted with mine outside of "haha doc is cranky again, just slap the bandages on me and lets go" ditched me in favor of lesbian sex with another PC
>campaign epilogue has us all getting a city we helped form up and running, everyone describes how they made their way post-adventuring
>my character is so deep in his funk he gets himself run off after teaching medicine, and he dies the one way he wanted to avoid dying
>GM realizes what happened
I guess in my case, it's more what the GM didn't do. Though, in a party of 8, I guess finding a bone for the quiet one is awfully hard.
>playing an ex-army, now-bard
>he joined the military after adventuring in his youth
>him, his wife, and his best friend used to be a party
>go to slay a young dragon, momma shows up instead
>TPK except for him, because he ran
>not even a body to bury, just has an engraved spoon that was a wedding gift for him and his wife
>carried it with him from then on
>years later, adventuring with current party
>dragon slayin'. Like pros
>ANCIENT DRAGON ARRIVES
>my character recognizes it
>it took his wife from him
> he can't move
>paralyzed with fear
>breath attack, party failing
>my character charges in, throwing everything he has at it
>dragon mortally wounds him but the party brings down the beast
>he's lying there, about to die
>party can do nothing to save me, no healing left
>my characters best friend asks of I can see my wife, if she's waiting for me
>I start to speak, DM raises a hand to stop me
>he looks me dead in the eye
No. She didn't come for you, you left her, and she left you...
This was something the players did while I was GMing and I think it was one of the most emotionally intense fictitious events I've been through.
It was a Star Wars campaign set at the very early days of the Rebellion. The crew was a miralian force sensitive melee fighter, a human pilot, a twilek gearhead, and a mon calamari doctor, they had a freighter often running goods for small rebel groups and eventually the Alliance.
By their fourth job, the human pilot had developed a knack for the force, who the miralian then agreed to train. During this time, the two began to have a bit of a rivalry over the favour of the twilek as well, who kept being flirty and friendly with both.
Fast forward a few months of on and off sessions. After going through a few rough missions for the Alliance (one of which ended up with the Miralian's old friend and contact dead), the Miralian began to become angry and disillusioned with the Alliance. He began turning more and more towards the dark side, little did the crew understand (IC, at least), and the Twilek as a result started a full on relationship with the Human. Throughout all of this stuff, the Mon Cal doctor is just trying to keep spirits high and be the voice of reason (the player was new, pretty quiet guy so he's kinda absent from most of the story).
About a year after we started playing, the Alliance was in open war with the Empire, and the crew was running some much needed supplies to a hidden Rebel base. Shortly after they arrived, the Empire did as well and a full scale battle broke out over the base. Obviously, the majority of the crew wants to help fight back the Imps, but Miralian stops them at the ramp and tells them to leave; they'll be unharmed. The crew refuses and tries to push past him, and he ignites his saber. The Human does as well, and they begin to duel, all while explosions and blaster fire begin to grow louder and more ubiquitous. The Mon Cal and Twilek realize shooting into a lightsaber duel is probably a bad idea and run to a rampart and help Rebels in a raging gunbattle.
The two lightsaber fucks keep dueling across the battlefield, jumping and flipping to and fro. The Miralian, far more experienced, gets the upper hand and chops off the Humans sword arm from the shoulder. He reveals that (obviously) it was he who had tipped off the Empire, and that he planned to seek out Darth Vader for training (the culmination of a little side plot we had cooked up, I was going to run a separate game for him and my buddy). Miralian goes to finish off the Human, when Mon Cal bro pipes up "I'm going to shoot him if that's okay." He tosses the dice, and I'm pretty sure I was having a heart attack while they bounced.
He scored a hit with his blaster pistol and rolled just enough advantage to crit the already severely wounded Miralian seconds before he delivered the final blow. The Miralian crumpled, falling over next to the downed Human. Human gets up haggardly and looks over to the Mon Cal, who he sees sitting up against a crate, holding a pistol in one hand and the limp Twi Lek in the other.
Before the Human asks anything, Mon Cal bro just says "Mon Cal shakes his head slowly, gesturing towards the extensive blast marks across Twi Leks chest." Twi Lek had died in the gunfight which had been running at the opposite end of the table.
I think that last bit was mostly dramatic for us because Mon Cal bro was this really awkward sort of guy who always looked like he was uncomfortable getting into character, it seemed foe the most part like he was just there to hang out with us.
He went on in later years to GM the most erotically explicit and over the top game of Shadowrun I've ever seen.
>mfw just started a game as a character who had to leave behind her secret husband-to-be because of court intrigue for his own safety
>mfw reading this thread
Everything's going to be okay guys right?
That's what makes it an excellent way to test how good of a DM they are. If they just kill them off and expect Drama, they're bad. If they just nod and leave them be and never have them come up, they're average. If they work them into the game in a meaningful way and give the relationship proper weight, they're good.
>because of court intrigue
I don't know, you tell me bub.
>had to kill my own brother in a duel to keep the secret and keep him safe
Aw man I think really beefed it
You had better damn well make sure you marry this man, and have a bunch of kids, so that your tainted legacy can try to redeem your sins.
>No resolution years later where the character redeems himself by dying to atone for his previous cowardice and thus might find some closure.
Your GM dropped the fucking ball and should be ashamed of himself.
This all started because we're from rival houses, brother dearest found out and was trying to kill him, so I intervened.
Unfortunately people started sniffing so I decided it would be safest for him if I weren't around the town anymore, so of into the wilds I go on a quest of "holy enlightenment," renouncing all titles and lineage.
If I go back he'll be discovered and killed, likely me as well.
One of my players tried this in my pathfinder game. I ended up making her the long lost heir to the royal family. So her sister, the Reigning Empress, tried to kidnap her from the party so she could keep her safe. Eventually they worked their differences down to "Ok you can keep adventuring, but you do jobs for me." Also ended up introducing a bunch of other eccentric family members and great fun was had by all.
When the BBEG died. When we started playing, we were in high school, and played a pretty basic campaign: there are seven super powerful artifacts, if you have all the seven you'll gain access to any wish you have. The BBEG was the leader of this rival band that wanted the artifacts (The Stones of the Alchemist, or something like that). After months playing, we had four and they three. The final battle was in a castle on the demiplane where the stones were created, where each party member had a 1x1 duel. I fought the BBEG and killed him in the first round, before he could cast any spell with some really lucky rolls.
After a few months, we find out he had been ressurrected by one of his former party members. However, he was now working with our party's rogue,even though he hated me for killing him. It was funny, he really liked the rogue, but hated me.
When we finally made it into the epic levels, my character was trapped in hell and the whole party went there to help me get out. In the end, i became the lord of the Phlegethos after some deals with Asmodeus ( I was a N tiefling gunslinger before that, and the rest of the party were now minor gods, i was the only mortal befroe that). When we came back to the material plane, we found out the BBEG had conquered the world by becoming an avatar of an elder evil called The World. So, we climb through his tower (where each floor was part of a different elemental plane) and fight him, realizing he is slowly losing control of The World. Suddenly, he stops attacking us and his form starts changing. He starts screaming "Just a little longer, please, just a little longer" before he falls on the grouns and starts crawling towards the rogue, saying how thankful he was for their friendship (even though he WAS an evil sob, they managed to be friends). And then he points toward me and starts crying about how much he wanted to kill me for humiliating him all those years ago on the Alchemist's Demiplane.
how i had broken all the pride he had as an spellcaster and as a human. "You broke me. YOU broke me!". And then he became a giant monster and tried to kill us all, destroying half the continent in the process.
I think it was the fct that i was playing as that character for so many years, but when my dm started screaming "You broke me!" i was honestly afraid. And sad. For me, it was the best campaign ever, because i was really emotionally in that game.
That's the most heartbreaking thing that has ever happened to me in a game, i guess.
>realistic consequences in my fantasy roleplay
No see, there's a difference here. The character in question was torn up over his decision to retreat from an unwinnable battle, spent years with survivors guilt, and just sacrificed his life to kill the dragon that took his wife from him. And the GM spat in his eye so to speak, and denied him a satisfying and tragic redemption, just to spite him.
That is shit GMing right there, both as a storyteller and as an emotionally engaged RPer. 0/10 would not play with.
Help me narrow things down here some. The campaigns took place over years, and I couldn't transcribe everything in one night if I wanted to.
Relevant things, as I can recall, are
>The Three Kings
>A Caged Robin
>Imprisonment and Betrayal
Each are related and interlinked, part of a longer tale.
>The Life and Death of Ariel
for when the easily moved player really fucked up, and could be distressed if reminded as such until months later he was allowed redemption.
>I called her a cheating whore and slapped her hard enough to break her jaw.
Wait, question: were you actively engaged and/or married?
'cause if you were just dating, that seems p. fucked up, man. Sure, she didn't really want to up and vanish on you, but given that she's on her own for so long, she's hardly obligated to stay true to that one guy she was seeing way back when.
If there was serious oath/contract/commitment between the two of you (like marriage or engagement) you're good beyond losing a little control.
The most heartbreaking thing:
>"I'm... Wow. She hits and she scores exactly 17 damage."
Our Knight (one of the few original PCs in the party, and played by a really fucking cool RPer) was holding back the Elder Vampire we were battling, as the rest of the party escaped out the window.
My Cleric was just outside the window, failing Turn Undead-attempts turn after turn.
Knight has die-hard feat, and is at 6 hp.
"She" was the Vampire.
It was an epic death, and a good death for his particular character, story-wise, but goddamn was it sad.
Dungeon Master: "Your character, Regdar, opens up the treasure chest hastily with a smile of excitement on his face, and is impatient to discover the contents of the dust covered container."
Regdar: "Oh dude I hope I get a +4 strength, +4 constitution leather belt! Ahh yeah!"
Dungeon Master rolls dice to check the loot table.
Regdar: "So what did I get?"
Dungeon Master: "You have to make a Will saving throw, Regdar."
Regdar rolls a 4.
Dungeon Master: "Instead of uncovering loot, your character is put to sleep for the next 100 turns, you get to go make everyone else sandwiches now Steve. Also, grab me a Mountain Dew."
Regdar's player, Steve, is visibly upset.
Dungeon Master: "Don't look so upset Steve, you get 120 experience points for getting put to sleep for 10 minutes. Do this another 30 times and you'll be able to hit level 3!"
The party had a very enthusiastic little puppy we saved from some goblins at the very start of the campaign.
This puppy was with us the entire campaign.
In the final desperate fight, basically every was in critical condition or dead besides our fighter.
Our fighter is about to make his last stand when he receives a small heal.
The puppy believed in our fighter so hard, the GM gave the puppy 1 lvl in cleric during the fight.
This one will take the most writing. I can feel my meds kicking in, so it's possible I may pass out in the meantime, but if not now then over breakfast I will report that tale.
I will open with this explanation-
We were three players, playing three characters, who were three brothers, the three sons of a PC from the previous campaign. We were grey elves, but not in the typical sense: half-breeds of a high elf and a drow elf, two members of the party that survived the tale that ruined the kingdom and settled down in the BBEG's castle.
At the start of the new campaign, we sons inherited the estate from our father, who lay dying, our mother having been gone for a long time. The youngest was given the land, the middle child was given the castle, and I -the oldest- was given the responsibility to watch over my brothers. We were given access to the family fortune - leftover from the adventures before - and left to our devices as dear old dad gave up the ghost (literally) to an old friend of his.
We of course immediately began to conspire to return the broken realm around us to prosperity, for youth is intoxicating, and newfound wealth doubly so.
We were lovers, actually. Well, only once or twice, but I certainly didn't think a few months of separation would get her to change her mind so fast. I mean, we moved heaven and earth to get to her, and I personally fought my way through hell to get to her.
So yes, I hit her really hard. Not a slap, but the way a man hits someone he wants to seriously hurt.
I once played a diviner/telepath psyker, rolled everything randomly (Got the glorious name of Dikkers Cocking) and got his memento as a cheap ring and the background which had him possessed in the past. I wrote that he'd had a wife and family before he realised he was a psyker and made a pact with the demon to keep the Black Ships away, but eventually cast the demon out and was taken away unwillingly anyway.
I never mentioned it in the game at all. I played a smart-ass who slipped in and out of the party to point them in the right direction and then go investigate whilst they played murderhobos. The GM used my backstory to have a demon try and tempt me to make a pact with it, saying I could see my wife and kids again. I put my heart and soul into that night of RP, with my character's uncaring and aloof psyker façade cracking before the party's eyes.
tl;dr Having a family actually allowed my to give my character far more depth than almost anything else I've played.
Because I'm forever GM and never played a character ever again
Wow. That was pretty cool.
Reminds me of the only full caster i ever played, a guy whose body was full of chaositech (from that Monte Cook book). I made a pact with a Far Realm entity if he brought my character's family back after they were killed by an enemy of the party. He brought them back. As monsters.
Killing them was hard. Each turn, i had to make a Will check so i would not break under the pressure and let them kill my (now a desperate and sobbing man) character. That was great.
That they did. They also denied me breakfast. Alas.
I did my best to lead the effort responsibly. We allotted ourselves a stipend of money for personal arms and enchantments, then devoted the rest to the common cause. Using father's books on most topics, our meager wisdom, and the advice of the few aging men in the castle, we set out to form a nation out of the impoverished realm around us.
The family castle was situated in a small dale set aside from the realm. A single large town dominated the area, with a ring of a dozen villages surrounding. Once upon a time, this was the capital to a kingdom; now, it was a forgotten stretch of country, left to the brigandry. We brothers approached the elders of each village and bought their agreement to our plans, then leveraged the villages against the half-abandoned town in something that was half a buy out, half a political movement.
The settled people ostensibly behind us, the real work began. We repaired the roads, shored up the wells and walls, and hired on engineers to work full-time to maintain the town. We brought in experts in crafts and trades from outlying regions, and had them train each village in a different marketable practice. We began to train a guard, and hired mercenaries to repel bandits (and worse).
We also dabbled in republic. We had each village elect a representative to a council held in the town (the townspeople held, if I recall, four seats), and this parliament was intended to take over as the governing body of the this burgeoning nation.
We brothers busied ourselves with this, and settled in for a 50 year timeskip.
This is as good time as any to introduce the characters in full.
The oldest, myself:
Sarrion Firebrand, Warmind (Soul Knife)
Raised with focus and discipline, and learned in esoteric techniques from the rarest tomes and scrolls in the library, Sarrion was the most concerned with self discipline and improvement. He also took his duty as the eldest to heart, and bemoaned that his brothers could never settle their differences.
>Sarrion wrote a letter of invitation to the church of Heironeous, and subsidized their building a church in the central town, in an attempt to breed good morals into the fickle people of the realm.
The middle child:
Sinerion Firebrand, Monk aspiring to Drunken Master
He was raised similarly to Sarrion, but was never able to put aside his indulgences, using his position to consume strong wine and good food at any occasion. Still, he trained seriously, and took rules and strictures VERY seriously. These combined to form a braggart of an enforcer.
>Sinerion founded a personal school to his "style" of martial arts out of the castle.
Hemo Firebrand, variant Ranger
Chafing against the regimented household he grew up in, and lacking a mother's soft touch, he fled the castle and took up ranging the outlying woods and fields rather than face his father's disappointment or Sinerion's condescending chokeholds. The younger brother with a different take, but often treated dismissively.
>Hemo took volunteers from the villages to teach his skills to, to improve their hunting, but would take inspiration from Sinerion and form a personal corps of foresters.
Donovan, Stone Giant Fighter
A warrior who accompanied our father to the final battle of his personal story, but died keeping the rest of the party alive. Dear old dad had apparently struck a deal on his death bed to revive the giant - a soul for a soul - and from the castle's undercroft came the warrior, reduced after centuries dead. We hired him on retainer.
You'll ruin the surprise!
Well, it almost worked.
The economy improved, the crime waned, the republic settled into a stable form. Each of our personal projects took well. The people might even have prospered.
The use of mercenary forces kept the treasury never that full, however, and was always a risk. Our constant meddling also made the local people reliant on us - something we foolishly failed to foresee - resulting in the parliament being less the actual leadership of the people, and more the bureaucracy under our de facto elven oligarchy.
It wasn't what we intended, but it was what we made.
Active play began again with an assassination of a magistrate who was riding to our castle. After finding the investigator incompetent, we looked into it ourselves. It spiraled out into discovering that a rebel faction was fomenting (apparently we were despots), becoming suspicious that the guard was corrupt, and eventually my brothers tripped over a band of Foresters arresting a certain red-haired woman. I the player was absent, so I could not prevent my brothers from mishandling the situation, and slaughtering the men who were detaining her, Robin.
This woman would feature for the rest for of this story. Our best lead, and a mystery herself, she also showed the same psychic talents as Sarrion. I never trusted her. But, she led us to the Forester outpost to investigate (wherein Hemo found a doll), and was critical during the rescue of Hemo from rebels kidnappers. He fell in love.
When we brought her in to a village guardpost, honestly just to talk somewhere safe, she began to panic, so he began to panic, and rather than do anything else-
Hemo decided to help her make a violent escape from the village. More men died for her sake, and this time I was there to witness it.
Sinerion and Sarrion put together a small expedition to bring their brother to heel. They'd fought before, but killing good men was over the line.
>I don't think we have anything in common anymore as friends.
I mad my players sad once. I don't remember my wording exactly as this was 4 years ago. But as their fighter jet was being shot out of the sky I went into detail on how they were reaching for the photo of their wife and son, and how over the comms all they can hear is the battle chatter of how hard their comrades were losing.
And so it was that we caught our brother fleeing into the woods, before he could make it too far, as Robin proved a burden in the rough terrain. We fought, and Sinerion of course took the opportunity to chokehold poor Hemo once more, but in the end we dragged the two back to the village in chains.
I was not pleased, but Sinerion seemed pleased with himself. He enjoyed being an executor of the law, no matter.
I intended for Hemo to just spend a night in the jails, to think, and I told him as much. I informed the captain of the town's guard that Robin was to be treated fairly, and left unharmed. I took the first drink of alcohol I'd had in years that night with my middle brother, to take the edge off what I knew to be a brewing scandal- or worse. I didn't realize how much worse it would get.
The guard captain, rather than follow the spirit of my instruction, instead had a cleric of Heironeous oversee the viscous beatings that took place in the jailhouse that night. Hemo heard it all from down the corridor in his own cell.
We had forgotten in the excitement that he could Wildshape.
He flew as a hawk back to the castle that night, and sent orders to the mercenary companies we kept on to muster at one of the northerly villages, then approached Donovan. I cannot tell you exactly what was said then, but I can tell you what was intended, and what happened.
All Hemo wanted was some respect, and for the woman he cared about to be well treated.
What he did instead was unleash hell onto our realm.
Understand now that Donovan had been slain by a cursed artifact blade, wielded in the hands of a fallen paladin, and the marks of this vile damage had been forever imprinted upon him. It had seeped in during the centuries his body slept, and in the profane deal that brought him back, that lingering evil had only been bonded deeper. When Hemo called him to war, Donovan truly woke up for the first time. He was hungry.
Come the morning, Sarrion and Sinerion rode as hard and fast as they could back to their dynastic home, terrified of what damage Hemo might cause if they did not stop him. We took a shortcut through farm and field into the back of the dale, and so we were oblivious to the fact that we were too late: Donovan's war party, dragging our brother along, was marching up the road to the very village we left.
I tried to work damage control as best I could, but it was too late.
When Donovan reached the village, he acted in his own way to our brother's wish to free Robin, and put the entire village to the sword. Every man, then every woman and child, were slain in the massacre. The walls were toppled, the church and judiciary were sacked, and the jail was broken open. Robin emerged, after long hours kept lingering at death's door, to a scene of carnage.
Surrounded by the blood and bodies and ruin, Hemo, apologetic, tried to give her that doll he had found.
To this day, I have no fucking clue why he thought it was hers.She turned, and ran away.
Hemo met the mercenaries at the next village northward, and assumed command of the garrison there. Mad with grief and anger, he promised them plunder if they enthroned him and only him. We two elder brothers assembled what loyalist forces we could, including Sinerion's personal students, and laid siege to the walled settlement. We wanted a peaceful resolution. I wanted our brother back. Sinerion wanted the peace of the law restored.
Surely this madness would end if he could only see reason.
It was mostly your standard anachronistic high medieval local economy. The DM had a far better mind for political intrigues than financial ones, so not much time was spent paying attention to the trades and prosperity past acknowledgements.
As I said, each village was given a marketable business, but we also made sure each could maintain itself. I recall one was given a large brewery as its central stimulus, and another flocks of sheep and training from some master weavers and clothiers. I think another traded principally in lumber - it was closest to Hemo's forest - and another had access to the best farmland and so we imported various kinds of grain for them to harvest. The core idea was that each village would produce *something* that everyone else in the region would want, and so all would have a way to profit as we restored trade and travel between the settlements.
I was running a Shadowrun campaign with a group of like 6 guys, they were all new to the setting but I'd played it before. They loved it, high-tech low-morals with magic? Hell yeah!
So in the campaign, they were hired to pull something out of a research lab buried in Chicago, and while they're out there they had to climb to the top of this structure in the middle of a plaza to be able to figure out where they are in relation to the site. So while they're up there, their decker notices movement at the edge of the open ground. Two of them have thermals, and they see a big signature in a corner of a ruined office building.
Everyone else is street sams, so they decide to gungho it and charge across the field towards it. It's like a little lean-to of concrete slabs and there's smoke kind of drifting out of it. So as they're charging towards it, a sub-sonic non-combustion shot *tinks* off the guy in front for 0 damage. He gets within 10 yards, stops, falls prone, and chucks a grenade into the lean-to.
They all wait after the explosion for more fire, and once they decide it's silent they start poking around in there. There was like a little campfire and a bedroll all shredded, and small animal carcasses. The corpse of the small individual is cut in half, and lays astrewn inside the shelter.
So Scott, the player who threw the grenade, he's a combat veteran IRL of Iraq. That needs to be said.
So as they're searching, Scott goes, "Okay. I'm searching for his sniper rifle."
He finds a twisted BB gun. And it slowly dawns on the party that they just murdered a child.
Five minutes of complete silence around the table.
"Welcome to Shadowrun."
Essentially, I failed our father.
I could not control the flow of information from the trenches of a siege. I do not know what the other towns heard of the massacre, nor how they received Hemo's and mine conflicting messages in the days that followed. What I did know was that we were on the cusp of a full civil war, and we could use all the help we could find. So I did the natural thing, and wrote the church of Heironeous, now well established in the realm, another letter.
Their response read as follows:
>It is not the place of God to meddle in the affairs of brothers.
Robin would meet the elder brothers at the siege though, offering her martial skill. She claimed she was here now only to make sure "that monster" died. We accepted her help, for what choice did we have? Our party had rode through the ruins of a town only a day ago alive en route to our brother's holdout. We saw what Donovan had done.
The siege lasted maybe a week. Donovan grew impatient at this coward's style of fighting, and one day, he too-easily tore the front gate off the village's wall and - roaring all the while - charged our lines, mercenaries streaming out behind him. This battle was intense, vicious, horrible. It was the only time Hemo ever won a grapple check against Sinerion, which momentarily while amusing, felt significant to me. The brothers contested each other with lethal force, and Donovan he- he laid waste. To everyone.
There was a moment where Sinerion had pinned Hemo, and was trying to force him to submit. Hemo instead called out for aid. Donovan strode over, and looked down at their intertwined forms on the ground. I could do little more than watch it happen. He butchered them both where they lay.
I fought the giant then, with Robin providing overwatch. He should have killed me too, but he only maimed me. A piece of my side, tore out on the tip of his sword, gone forever. He imparted some of his own curse along with that strike. In the end, though, he fell.
Both sides of the battle were destroyed to a man.
I had all of three hit points left, and desperately needed curative magic.
Robin looked me over, and quipped,
>What good is your law now, Sarrion?
then walked away, to the Gods know where.
I rode back to the castle, and submitted to the care of the house healer, bless him. I took the news from him that the wound in my side would never heal, that it was cursed beyond any means he knew of. I rested for a week to try and recover my strength, to lead the nation forward in its own recovery.
Then an army appeared at my doorstep, clerics of Heironeous at the fore.
They named me usurper, defiler, tyrant.
They claimed I had committed fratricide, genocide, atrocity.
The people flocked behind them, feeding eagerly from the clergy's hands just as I had hoped they would those years ago, and tore down the republic I had created, demanding my head be put in a noose. I could hardly defend my good name from the sickbed; the defenseless make handy scapegoats.
Rather than kill more of the people I had spent so much time, money, and now blood to nurture, I fled in the night with the help of my last few loyal subjects, and became a wanted elf. Sarrion Firebrand was a name spoken of in brimstone sermons and seen on wanted posters all through the realm. I retreated into hiding, desiring little more now than to brood over my failure.
The civil war was not averted, however. The mercenaries that had not yet mustered to Hemo took the opportunity to loot and raid like the bandits they probably were before, and the extant rebel faction rose up in arms in earnest. Those rebels, it turned out, were being agitated by Hextorians, and now that the Heironeans had made a power grab, they rose up in full force as well. The war mutated from a brotherly spat among mortals to one among gods, and the realm divided down the middle, caught in a state of perpetual conflict ever since.
of the prologue
I think each of the other substories can be handled in a single post, but for the moment, I need a drink.
The Three Kings was honestly just supposed to be the opener to the campaign proper. Everyone else rolled new characters, and there was another 50 year timeskip before active play started up again.
Want to know something really funny though? The player who played Hemo, who started the war over a pretty woman he barely knew, who died at a siege like a chump? That player was named
>patiently teaching a table full of people who could easily teach themselves
Just keep the good ones, boot the shit ones, bring in fresh recruits until the group has a good chemistry. I don't get paid to tutor people on which modifiers apply to a stunning strike.
>Our group was living in a church with several npcs
>During the first morning after my character met up with the others, the church was attacked by bandits
>It turns out just before the attack several of the npcs had packed up most of the food/weapons and were planning on leaving with them in the night
>End up having to defend ourselves from the bandits AND most of the npcs
>During this shoot out a mother and daughter try to escape to the near forest surrounding the church
>Half way to the forest the mother is killed by bandits hiding in the forest
>As the mother begins to almost instantly turn into a zombie our sniper in the bell tower tries to save the little girl by shooting the zombie-mom
>He rolls so bad he ends up blowing the little girl's head almost clean off, doing enough damage to "kill her three times in a row"
>Our sniper, so horrified at accidentally killing a child, and now watching her mother begin to devour her tiny corpse, never spoke of what happened in that tower.
The call went absolutely dead quite after that. Later after the battle I believe he went out and finish off the mother personally. He didn't feel too comfortable using his mosin for a while after that. I have another if anyone is interested.
Did the gm really expect a different reaction?
The whole point if exploiting the loved ones is the "or else" factor. If you make it clear that "nope they are doomed amd nothing cam be done about it" then all you've done is strip away the only thing holding a character back from going full Guts on you just becoming a walking murder machine. It's shitty planning 101
Fucking Troy. That was a great story by the way. What happaned to Sarrion afterwards? Same with Hemo.
Also, alot of good men and women died over petty squabbles over a woman, just like this one. I really liked the concept of three brothers though.
That feeling when you inspire feels and didn't even mean to...
>party ends up working for a nation struggling to fight off a army
> army uses crazy monsters and magic we've never seem before
> get infected by some kind of parasite during last skirmish
> quickly release what has happened to me and decide Ill go out on my own terms
Our resident healer was incapacitated at this time and the party as a whole was having a hard time
> leave camp late at night. Dog follower (played by another pc) tries to follow tell him"no. You stay."
> dawn breaks over the enemy camp. I ready myself to go in and take as many as I can.
> dog stands with me "stupid mutt..." i say before we charge to our deaths.
My friend (the one playing the dog) thought it was a great final stand. It wasn't until after we realized we'd made half the party tear up.
Hemo died during the siege. Pretty horribly, if you didn't catch it. Butchered in his brother's arms.
DM confidential notes report that the Hextorians used his remains for undead experimentation.
Sarrion would go on to feature in the rest of the campaign, after the second half-century time skip. I kept playing him, and let me tell you, trying to roleplay a man effectively at Grit 9, in the Alignment system, was a pain in the ass. His, ah, transformation would not be complete until the current note we left that campaign off on, though, which would be the
>Imrpisonment and Betrayal
arc of things. Ends with the aforementioned box. Good times.
You wouldn't think Heironeans could be such huge assholes, but people forget that Lawful Good doesn't necessarily mean Lawful Nice.
There were a lot of good quotes along the way. Stingers, they were.
>It's too late for that, Vincent
--I already mentioned this one, Vincent being a rogue someone else rolled.
>Another corpse to the cause, huh, Sarrion?
--was said to me after killing a guard to complete a mission.
>Did you expect me to be thankful?
--Robin, the second time she was broken out of a, far worse, prison
My favorite moment of the campaign involves Robin. It's also probably one of the worst things I've ever seen done by a player, and this in a party with someone who knows how to play Evil.
That really is an excellent story, but I can't help but get the impression that a handful of characters and organizations were carrying on like total assholes. For what reason was Robin so antagonistic to the brothers throughout, even leaving you for dead?
But what really stands out to me is how the church of Heironeans carried out what amounts to a coup of the kingdom. Which would in normal circumstances is to be expected in a political intrigue campaign, but for the fact that they were ostensibly a LG organization. Their behavior as you've described it is not LG. They outright betrayed you to throw a coup, and used propaganda and lies to secure their power. What really takes the cake though, is the fact that they used Hemo's corpse to dabble in necromancy, which in most systems falls far, far outside the bounds of what can be considered LG. They have fallen to LN bare minimum.
Don't confuse the Hextorians for the Heironeans, now, neither side would appreciate it.
As to what the Church of Heironeous itself got up to, part of it might be explained by having ranking LN clerics (kosher), and part of it might be explained by Greater Good LG rationalizations. Any alignment besides Neutral, when taken to the extreme, can be made into an active villain.
It's also possible that they believed their own propaganda.
This is something I thought about, and I do not recall if either of the sets of missives Hemo or Sarrion sent out from the castle before the massacre were signed with more than our family seal. Even then, a game of telephone could have scrambled that part of the picture up.
Then, both with the massacre and the siege, practically everyone involved or directly witness to the events that took place died. Neither Robin nor Sarrion gave testimony to the church either (though, actually, she might have)- all that was left to speak were our troop movements, and the bodies. Hell, it might have been some of the rebels intentionally trying to turn the establishment against itself through misinformation.
But then one remembers that Divination magic exists, and the way my letter was rebuffed, and everything gets harder to explain.
I expect that had the campaign come to a full resolution, there would have been a twist, in the form of my assumptions being exposed as fallacious.
As to Robin, she was enigmatic all throughout the campaign. This could only be natural, as she was fey blooded, and operating under a pseudonym. I never did learn her original motivations, but somewhere between us (to her eyes) attempting to imprison her after mutual rescuing took place, and the being beaten to death over and over and over and over by people in our employ, and then all the slaughter, I am myself unsurprised at her ultimate attitude.
We never trusted each other, we never understood each other, but we did still work together when it came to it.
Ah, I assumed that was a typo on your part, my mistake. Still considering that you yourself was one of the primary patrons of the church, and that he himself invited them to set up in the kingdom, heavily implies malicious intent on their part. Even if you assume they had no idea what was going on, then they still passed judgement on the head of state with no evidence, and if being given conflicting accounts of what was transpiring you would expect them to at least make an effort to verify their fears before staging a rebellion. And the likely possibility that they were fully aware of what was transpiring makes their actions even more malign.
Their actions during this civil war were neither Lawful nor good, no matter how you frame their them at the time. I hope you got a chance to get back at them in a later campaign.
After the second time skip, they started getting more insistent about trying to locate and arrest me, and I ended up trying to play at being a lone guerrilla agent against both sides of the conflict. It worked, for a time.
As to the church's actions, as well as those of most other factions, there is phrase I came to use often during this campaign
>Short are the lives and memories of men.
Fifty years sees about an average of two generations passing.
Doesn't change the fact that they rebelled against the rightful ruler of a kingdom in order to secure power for themselves, with no sound ethical or legal justification for doing so. No amount of shortsightedness on their part can justify that kind of break from the tenets they claim to uphold.
I'm glad you think so!
Really, though, we were just a bunch of bratty rich kids who started throwing their trust fund around. We never intended to rule, per se, and us ending up in charge was more a matter of circumstance than a matter of intent.
They were assholes though. Oh were they assholes. Poor Vincent got tortured -lightly, only lost one toenail- by someone employed by our new glorious theocracy who didn't keep the faith. This man was kept on just so that they wouldn't have to make any adherents do something so distasteful.
The Heironeans did treat their own people well, though, if they always prattled on about duty.
The Hextorian governors were barely far enough on this side of Evil to be functional; they had capable middle management.
I should add, this was the campaign wherein I finally complained to the DM that he always made things suck just too much. Things were always just too real, the people always just too flawed.
The worlds he had us play in were beautiful, and organic, and tragic, and we could never seem to manage to save them. Not truly. Heroes were simply too rare.
It was tiring to play, for all that his campaigns have always made impressions on me.
It's probable the Heironean church fell victim to his habits, and ended up not being LG in practice, but LG in ideal. Less fantasy, more reality, religion, that.
Huh, sounds to me that during the second time skip there was a succession of ineffectual and zealous Heironean and Hextorian governors. If the years of your rule were relatively peaceful and prosperous, and it sounds like they were, you could probably rally the people behind you and reclaim power. Given that 'short are the lives and memories of men' their good feelings for the their theocratic overlords has probably waned. Trust me dude, at the end of the day the common man doesn't give a damn about gods or kings, all they care about is being able to put food on the family table without fear of getting robbed or killed. Everything else is second place on their list of priorities.
Ineffectual and zealous, mostly, but there was also the constant theological conflict that alternated between hot and cold war to keep fresh in the minds of the people their religious loyalties.
What few demihumans and mer were around the realm remembered me for who I was, and were the ones I relied upon for succor during the time skip, but they waned in number over the years. To the bulk of the human population, after three odd generations of filtered propaganda, I became a folk tale, a cautionary fable, and a bogeyman, more myth than elf.
Why don't you stop pussy footing around and give us the storytiems you said you would post days ago, so we can all bug you about how hard you should slap the shit out of your GM and rage at his transgressions.
Really, NTRing your players is perhaps the thing that turns off fa/tg/uys more than anything else, and I for one want to hear how you handled this both in character and at the table.
>Most heartbreaking thing your DM has said?
"I'll have to cancel our session guys. My girlfriend wants to go out tonight."
That's when I knew it was over. I left the game rather than watch it die a slow and frustrating death. Took the good members of the group with me and found some new guys instead.
There are some legit fascinating philosophical explanations to why humans are attracted to tragic events in fiction. Even our most ancient civilizations had elaborate myths full of tragedy, war, heartbreak, and pain.
the tl;dr version of the prevailing theory is that experiencing negative things in a safe context helps us feel secure and cope when similar things happen for real. Hence why an over-emphasis on lighthearted fun without serious elements is often considered immature or childish.
Newbie is a legit concern if the table is really experienced and has a rapid rhythm going already. It can be hard both for the newbie (who has to cope with being the guy dragging everyone down on top of being the new addition) and the rest of the players (who have to deal with the FNG interrupting their well-oiled machine).
Newbies should be encouraged to get some experience under their belt in a more sympathetic environment.
Also a legitimate concern. It's really disruptive to get involved with a player who can't show up.
>english as a second language
Unless you sound like an ethnic character in a shitty comedy, I don't have a problem with this. If you post regularly on 4chan you're probably perfectly fluent for our purposes. If you DO sound like this, I actively want you in the group because that usually ends hilariously.
What about most heartbreaking thing you've ever said as a DM?
I've had to reject people before. It's never fun, but it's usually not too big a hassle when it's someone new. Kicking a good-friend-but-bad-player is hard, though.
I became a perma-GM after
>I really hate to tell you this, man. But the others are all with me on this. We don't think you should continue GMing. It's just not a talent of yours and none of our complaints are ever addressed. They want me to take over for you.
>Look, we're still friends, alright? And you're welcome to stick around as a player. I'll need to retcon some things but we won't just throw out the stuff you've already made.
My first encounter with enemies went somewhat the same, except without the PC regret. Bandits the PC's encountered were starving, barely armed, peasants knocking them up for food. PC's brutalized two of the four in the first round, ran down a third who tried to flee, beat the survivor bloody and interrogated him.
did your precious little feeling got hurt, you pathetic pussy? how about you retreat to your designated uni safe space with your communist friends so you don't have to be scared? shouldn't you be watching mlp instead of crying here?
>Not going rogue and killing your leader and suing for peace