This reminded me of a fun D&D story.
When the original Ravenloft module came out, in 1983, our group played through it. The guy who DMed it was the sort of DM who not only played everything by the book, but actively viewed himself as an adversarial player to the other players (a style that wasn’t uncommon in those days).
Ravenloft was a very challenging and complex module anyway, and even though we had a very large group of player characters (ten or so), we had several characters die early in the module. And, then…
One of the players was one of those sorts who liked to hoard magic items, and among the wealth of crap that his character, Oberon, had, was not one, but two Rings of Shooting Stars (don’t ask, I wasn’t the DM back then ). Oberon wandered off from the group while we were exploring the catacombs beneath Castle Ravenloft, walked through a teleportation trap, and had his body transposed with that of a wight…but the wight was now wearing all of Oberon’s gear, including those rings.
The wight charged the back of the party, and one of our clerics turned it, causing it to run away, through a doorway. The cleric got my attention (I was playing a magic-user), and said, “I just turned a wight, it ran off that way, it’ll be back in ten minutes, after the Turn Undead wears off.” What he didn’t tell me was, “oh, and the wight is wearing all of Oberon’s stuff.”
Thinking I was smart, I laid out a trap for the wight: I placed a Fire Trap spell on the doorway, paced out the size of a Fireball, and gathered the rest of the party out of range of the Fireball. “When the wight sets off that Fire Trap, I’ll Fireball him.” Everyone agreed this was an outstanding strategy.
The wight triggered the Fire Trap, and then I hit him with a Fireball; the DM reported that the wight had rolled a natural “1” on both saving throws. “Now I need to make magic item saving throws for all of that stuff he’s wearing.” And that’s when things got ugly. Both Rings of Shooting Stars failed their item saving throws, and the DM ruled that they exploded, in a conflagration with a much larger area of effect than my Fireball.
He made us make some saving throws, but it was academic; we all took several hundred hit points of fire damage, and were burned to a crisp. TPK.
Months later, my girlfriend and I were at GenCon '84, which was at UW-Parkside; my girlfriend had been among the players in that Ravenloft game, and her beloved fighter was among the casualties. We were going through the exhibit hall one morning, and as we walked past the TSR booth, we saw a guy sitting at a table, with a badge that said, “Tracy Hickman.” We noticed this, stopped in our tracks, and my girlfriend pointed at him. “YOU!,” she said, in mock anger.
Hickman looked startled for a moment, then grinned. “Let me guess. Ravenloft, right?”