Friday, February 8, 2008

A whimsical glimpse into gaming sessions past

Ever have one of those moments where all synaptic activity ceases, wherein you fire a magic missile at...nothing?

Well gather 'round while I lay it down, and show you my stupidity...

During a memorable session back in '97, after smoking a truly obscene amount of pot and eating half my body weight in Doritos, our party got in a farcical encounter with...assassin vines and a lone beholder. This combo was undoubtedly fueled by the fact the DM was so stoned you could've blindfolded him with dental floss. We were high enough level that we should have survived the encounter and made of with some pimpin treasure. But nooooooooooooo.

Kenny the DM, we'll call him Captain Trips at this point, made us all roll saving throws versus, well, stupid shit to be honest. As fate would have it my beloved 11th lvl monk failed miserably, a straight up 1 critical failure no less, and spent the rest of the encounter fumbling around. See, at some point a vine had taken the shirt off my character and I was equally dazed and confused, a state endused by the afore mentioned marijuana, and I had failed my save so I thought it perfectly reasonable to have my monk chase aimlessly after his shirt while the rest of the party was mercilessly pummeled by our whimsical foes.

As you all know beholders are maybe the most feared monster in the D&D universe and are often party killers. They cast as 18th lvl magic users, usually are accompanied by big brutish henchmen, and are insanely difficult to hit. When faced with the site of a beholder one's initial reaction is to immediately obtain a blank character sheet and start rolling anew.

Just picture a wayward monk more concerned with obtaining his dignity than reinforcing a party of 10-12th lvl characters who are slowly dying one by one. So my monk grabbed his shirt, donned the garment, stood, and looked around to find his entire party annihilated, and a lone beholder smirking. If I remember correctly certain party members were actually smoldering, an evocative image to say the least.

So there my monk stood, face to face with floating death. He failed yet another saving throw and wet his pants, much to Captain Trips' ammusement. Now admittedly, our merry flock had softened the thing up a bit, by half hp at least.

The battle was joined. My monk instantly went invisible and hid behind a nearby tree...or so I thought. This enterprising scamp saw my footy prints and deduced my location. Vines swarmed all around so my monk climbed the tree like a monkey. I knew that any attack would make my character visible so he stealthily made his way across the canopy of branches, all the while Mr Beholder searched in vain as I had made my move silent checks. There I stood, high in a tree waiting for the rascal to move beneath me. Then lo, there he was. My monk pounced with cat-like control, and missed his target. My monk was face down with a beholder right on top. with no other alternative, and because I won initiative and because I had the slow fall feat, Monk boy spun, kicked, and rolled. With a perfect 20 on my attack roll, coupled with a critical failure of his save versus system shock (remember a 11th lvl monk deals 2d8 damage x2 for a crit) the beholder was then utterly defeated.

My fellow party members looked on with anger as I reaped the pimpin treasure and buckoo xp. But our benevolent DM let them roll brand new 10th lvl characters as compensation for their humiliating defeat. As reward for my glorious victory I recieved a mirror of soul stealing, ring of water breathing, and a obsidian staff of +5 to attack that had a myriade of cool magical effects. And I forever retained bragging rights over our lil' tribe.

Moral of this tryst...never try to retrieve a P.O.S. tunic in the middle of battle. Just dumb.

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