An Adventurer Is You & The GM Hates Your Guts (game)

The Game Room
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I’m in a very bored mood tonite, and in an idle moment I came up with this off the top of my head-it will kind of work a bit like the Corrupted Wish game, except that it is expected that each reply should at least make a pretense of trying to follow the previous reply.

Essentially, the thread will follow the adventures of Dirk, a daring and intrepid explorer. There is no GM per se; instead, each new post will advance the plot in some way, perhaps resolving the dilemma, puzzle, or choice that Dirk was faced with in the previous post. Sometimes you will take on the role of Dirk, and make a choice (as the straight man); other times, you are the GM, either setting up the next plot point, or giving an apt response to Dirk’s actions (typically providing the punch line). Assume that he has Wile E. Coyote-like powers of regeneration (wouldn’t be fun if we killed him off 6 posts in now would it?).

Example (the alterations in text format represent successive posters-note the setup/choice/resolution–>next setup format, tho it doesn’t necessarily always need to be that rigid):

After dusting himself off after the attack of the Cockney Harpies, Dirk spies a strange box on the ground inlaid with iconic markings.

Dirk picks up the box, and attempts to open it.

The box contains a black hole! Dirk is sucked into another dimension, and after a wild ride through the realms of hyperspace is spit out outside a cave. On a sign next to the cave entrance is a sign. The sign says, “Gnome Shriner’s Convention. Enter and be Merry!”

[Now, for real]

As Dirk is walking down the dusty hot road at midday, he spies a lone traveler coming the other way. The traveler is an old grey bearded man riding a rickety-looking cart, pulled by a miserable-looking donkey. [What do you do?]

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Dirk throws a carrot at the old man!

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Fortunately for Dirk, the old man is nearsighted and the donkey is nimble, snatching the carrot from midair and enjoying a tasty snack.

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The old man sees the donkey snatch the carrot out of the air. “Thank ye, gentleman,” he smiles. “Old Donkey here appreciates the treat. In return, I shall tell ye of the haunted treasure of Castle Igthorn.”

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"North, over yonder hill and dale, lies a Castle-the Castle Igthorn, wherein, carved in mystic runes, upon the tallest spire, the last words of Uther Bedwetter of Pinhedlor have been written. They tell of a vast treasure deep underground in the dankest dungeon underneath!

“But follow only if you are a man of valour. For the entrance to this castle is guarded by a monster, a creature so foul and cruel that no man yet has fought with it-and lived! Bones of full fifty men lie strewn about its lair … therefore sweet adventurer, if you may doubt your strength or courage come no further, for death awaits you, with nasty pointy teeth!”

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“What an eccentric fellow,” thought Dirk.

Still, intrigued by the possibilities of what Sir Bedwetter had to say and having a fair-sized debt owed to the half-shark, half-man, all loan-shark Mako for that business at the Brothel of Brotherly Love, Dirk checked his equipment, including his prized +9 monster slaying knife of bad-assery and his conveniently and recently discovered copy of “How to Read Ancient Pindelornian,” and head north toward Castle Igthorn.

Unfortunately, Dirk’s compass malfunctioned and he head south instead… right toward the Southern Crags of Doom and Evil and Generally Not a Nice Place At All.

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And then he stumbled over a rock.

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“Ow, damnit. That hurt!” he yelled to no one in particular. He picked up the grapefruit-sized stone, preparing to hurl it into the distance as revenge for his poor stubbed toe.

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“If you think that hurt from your end, you should have tried it from mine” said the rock in a sultry whisper.

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So he threw the rock away anyway and continued on his way.

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Soon Dirk came upon an impassable chasm, save for a rickety rope bridge. Beyond he could see the Crags of Doom (undoubtedly the Castle Igthorn lay just beyond). A Raven is perched on one of the bridge supports; it wears a glittering purple jewel on its breast. Dirk approaches the raven…

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…suddenly the ground gave way beneath his left foot…

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…the same foot which had recently encountered a talking rock.

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And as he tumbled headfirst into the chasm he thought he heard the sound of a grapefruit sized rock laughing at him.

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As Dirk plummeted downwards, limbs flailing furiously, the Raven cocked it’s head and cawed gently.

“Why did you do that?”

The oddly anthropomorphized stone uttered a low, gravel-filled laugh.

“Because I rock.”

The raven cast a baleful eye upon the rock.

“Dammit. You said no more puns. I warned you.”

The purple jewel on the breast of the bird flashed, and a puff of smoke enveloped the wisecracking hunk of mineral. As it cleared, it revealed a small pile of sand and grit. A brief, choked whisper arose and then faded away.

“Don’t mica me tell the boss…at least he doesn’t take me for granite.”

The raven sighed, and spreading its wings, turned and dove into the chasm, where the human was still thrashing and screaming several hundred feet below as he plunged to the distant conclusion of the Chasm of Incredible Deepness and Sharp Pointy Rocks.

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“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Screamed Dirk as he plumetted towards certain doom. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

“You must listen to me carefully,” said the raven as it flew up along side the soone to be ertswhile adventurer. “There is but one way to survive falling into the Chasm of Incredible Deepness and Sharp Pointy Rocks.”

Dirk looked at the raven, paused for but a momment then replied “Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

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“Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!” continued Dirk.

Sighing a resigned sigh of disdainful contempt only a super-intelligent raven faced with the enormous task of trying to communicate with a panicking and plummeting ape-man could muster, the Raven continued, “You must flap your arms.”

“Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” replied Dirk, thoughtfully, briefly adding, “Aaaaaaaaahhhh Aaaaaaahhh!”

“You,” said the Raven, “must flap your arms.”

“Aaaaaaaahhhhhh… wait, what?” Dirk found himself saying as the aptly named Sharp Pointy Rocks came into view, rising up to meet him at a very fast pace.

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In a panic, Dirk indeed begins to flap his arms.

“Faster!” commands the Raven.

Dirk flaps his arms as fast as he can.

“Harder!” the Raven insists.

Dirk flaps as fast and as hard as he can.

“What a maroon.” the Raven chuckles as Dirk crashes into sharpest and pointiest of the sharp pointy rocks.

Alighting on a less sharp and less pointy rock the Raven observed Dirks broken, bloodied body. “You’ll survive,” he notes.

Looking through his swollen, purple, half-lidded right eye (the left being filled with blood) Dirk wished he had the strength to hurl a rock at the sarcastic bird.

Then he noticed that the Raven had landed on–not a sharp, pointy rock–but a carved pillar… with writing on it …writing in Ancient Pindelornian.

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At the bottom of the pillar sat a grapefruit-sized rock, which looked at Dirk as disdainfully as a grapefruit-sized rock can look at anyone.

“I suppose you’ll be needing a translation,” the rock sighed. “I bet you’re wishing you hadn’t thrown me, huh?”

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“No,” Dirk smirked,“I conveniently and recently discovered copy of ‘How to Read Ancient Pindelornian’ sometime before post #6. And if I had the strength I would hurl you at that repugnant Raven!”