“Roll the dice to see if I’m getting drunk!”
In the late 70s/ early 80s I joined an interminable quest for the Crown of Awfully Good my regular DM kept running. I ran the quest’s magic-user; a decent character, no stats below 14…except for Wisdom. It was 7. I played that to the hilt.
One of the clues lead the group to a room in a dungeon that contained a platform which would allow a magic-user (that would be me) five, and only five, instances of Contact Higher Plane. This would allow 5 yes/no questions to be answered with absolute certainty. The group leader, a paladin played by a gleefully unpaladinlike friend, came up with five y/n questions that would nail the location of the Crown of Awfully Good.
We waded through the dungeon and found the room.
Me: Goofus Magus steps onto the platform.
DM: A voice booms from the heavens, “You have five questions.”
Me: Can you hang on a minute?
DM (still in the booming from heaven voice): Yes. You have four questions left.
Me (casually to the gaping paladin): What do you want me to ask?
As we snuck around trying to find an evil priest, one of my co-players:
“Be vewwy, vewwy quiet. We’we hunting cwewics!”
This wasn’t said at a game, but I was telling a friend of mine what I used to sit and watch my boyfriend and friends do on Sunday afternoons. They were into Amtgard, which basically meant that a lot of Sunday afternoons were spent sitting around watching a bunch of guys run around an empty lot and beat each other up with foam “swords.”
Anyway, this is me recapping a game, and my friend making sarcastic comments.
Me: “Dude! I fucking hit you! Kneel!”
Me: “No way, man! I had the invisibility spell kicking!”
Me: “Fuck you, dude! My level’s higher than yours! I can see through the invisibility spell”
Me: "Plus, I rendered your magic useless the other day!’
(snip)
Friend: im down with some dice games, lol
Friend: but i dont know if i could hit someone with a foam stck
Me: “I slay you with my foam sword of DOOOOOM!”
Friend: ha ha “a plus 5 sword of foamee death!”
The plus 5 sword of foamee death cracks me up.
Famous last words: “I’m a dwarf, I’m tough, I can take it!”
OK, ok, there are Soooo many, and I have other things I should be doing, but the all time classic in our group is:
“If we eat them, they can’t testify against us.”
I’ll let you all ponder the context and check in tomorrow afternoon.
In a vampire game… this was going to just the last two comments, but the real joy of the situation comes with a clearer explination of why the semi, which we knew to be full of explosives and weapons was acting in a manner inconsistent with its true Dharma
Player: I kill the driver by thrusting my sword through the roof. [the driver is some mere mortal and completely non threatening]
DM: the semi jack-knifes, and begins scraping along the pavement. You’re thrown clear, but ahead of it. It’s coming towards you.
Player: I’ll use my celerity and run out of the way… wait, it’ll be cooler this way, so I’ll jump over it
GM: Umm… you mean the tipped over semi full of explosives, barrelling towards you at 60 mph shooting up a hail of sparks?
Player: It’s cool, with my Potence I’ll clear it for sure. :eek:
This was the same game where we killed the Judas in the group (it’s easy when the same guy always betrays you) with a shop vac.
C
Our group had a hard time taking anything seriously. We ended up producing a lot of “famous last words.”
“Dude, I’ve got a silver dagger. You just keep him distracted, I’ll kick his ass.”
Said the 3rd level thief attempting to backstab the vampire.
“Hey, cast a light spell on my sword. He’ll think it’s magic, and back down.”
Not if we’re having the conversation right in front of him, dumbass.
“Of course it’s only a statue. Watch…”
Nope. Guess it really was a gargoyle. That looks like it smarts.
“Shouldn’t you be planting flowers, or molesting a squirrel, or something?”
Said to the elven cleric on a high holy day. Cause Serious Wounds. Ouch.
There’s just something about people named Eric who play role-playing games. One memorable Eric had a saying that was prophetic: “Every time I do this I die.”
Another player, who favored clerics, loved to fight undead. He would use his patented “Turn!” move- thrust his pen like a crucifix at the DM, while grunting out “Turn!” in a strained voice that suggested holding back a bowel movement. This same player would rewrite his character sheet for every session, but he kept all the previous sheets mixed in with his notes on his clipboard. This allowed him to have many “just remembered” magic items and his spell list was always full of the spells he needed for any situation.
Brian took playing D&D seriously. Way too seriously. To the point of outright cheating- fudging die rolls, failing to record damage, picking spells out of the air- sometimes inventing magic items and claiming that the DM approved it. His method of roleplaing was a police-style interrogstion, complete with death threats- and this would be with friendly shopkeepers and bystanding children! He was a powergamer, always looking for the loophole that would make his character invincible, then he would turn on the rest of the players…
…speaking of which, Ray was a bad match for this group in the first place. He didn’t fit in, mainly because he had contempt for everyone else. He loved to find the loophole, like Brian, but he took it further. If his interpretation of a rule was not the same as the DM’s- and it usually wasn’t- he would argue and hold up the whole game until conceded to, or everyone went home out of boredom. Ray’s shining moment was during an expedition into Lolth’s Web, in the old Queen of the Demonweb Pits module. A room in the web consists of a doorway leading to a Mirror of Opposition- which duplicates the character reflected with an enemy, who will try to kill him. When the forward members of the party fell victim to this trap, Ray’s character put up his Cube of Force (making him invulnerable to attack for a time) and had a picnic while watching the “entertainment.”
Phew. I could go on, but not right now.
A powergamer named Brian who’s a rules-lawyering powergamer who could turn on the rest of the party at a moment’s notice…?
You didn’t tell all this to a guy named Jolly Blackburn, did you…?
I once made a character for Champions, the superhero role-playing game©. I had gotten tired of trying to come up with dramatic-sounding names for my characters, so I created an 8 foot tall super-strong and tough humanoid tiger who wore a black tee-shirt, denim jeans and a denim jacket. His name? Bob Tiger.
One time he was sneaking through a crack house, rounding up the bad guys when someone came out of a side corridor behind him and fired a double-barrelled shotgun at his back, point blank. The GM was an honest fellow, and when he rolled a very low total for the dice, said, “There’s a loud ‘bang!’ and you feel like someone slapped you in the small of the back with a rolled up newspaper. You smell freshly-burned gunpowder and the back of your jacket and tee-shirt are in tatters.”
Bob tiger turned around to confront a panicked pusher trying to reload his weapon, glared and said “That was a new shirt!”
That remark floored everyone at the table. By the time the GM was able to restore his own composure and resume the game, he ruled that the pusher had fainted dead away and the rest of the crack house occupants, fearing for their lives, had run outside into the arms of the police, demanding to be arrested.
–SSgtBaloo
I was playing tabletop Vampire with my friends B and A. You are required to randomly roll your hight and weight. When it was my turn to roll my character’s stats, I ended up with impossible numbers. Hight: Six feet, Weight: 130 pounds.
"o my god!’ B screams, “you’re, like, emancipated!”
To which A replied “Yay! I’m free! I’m thin and I’m free!!!”
He danced around the room for a good five minutes before the gamemaster calmed us down. 
Yeah, you had to be there.
I had one GM who kept forgetting what genre he was running. We’d walk into a Waterdhavian tavern, and there’d be a jukebox in the corner. “Dude! D’n’D!” became a byword for “Pay attention, idiot!” in our circle.
Another GM, in a Road Warrior post apocalyptic-type setting:
GM: It’s a small town. Not a lot of people, but it’s pretty wealthy because of its oil mine.
Me: You know, it’s a hard life in the oil mines. Working with your pick and shovel, mining out all those hunks of raw oil. It’s like that movie, Oil Miner’s Daughter…
GM: Your character has an anyeurism.
Then there was the one player I had, when I was GMing Dark Matter (if you don’t know it, think X-Files). There was one guy, Jon, whose approach to NPC interactions was similar to the guy in Steelerphan’s group. They were supposed to meet with a fringe science guy who was an expert on Atlantis. He had a tent up at a local alt-science/homeopathy/Ren-faire type thingie. Keep in mind that Jon was a member of the party, and working towards the same goals as everyone else in the game.
Chuck: Okay, we go into his tent.
Jon: I sneak around the back.
<everyone thinks: oh, fuck, what’s he up to now>
Me: Okay, Chuck, Mark, Chad, you guys go into the tent. A curtain divides it in half. There’s a middle aged guy in a cheap suit standing behind a table covered in pamphlets. He looks like the picture you saw of Professor Smith. Jon, you’re behind the tent. Looks like it has a rear entrance flap. You see a sleeping bag, a cooler, some books, and the curtain to the other half of the tent.
Jon: I’ll go in and peek through to the curtain.
Me: You’re right behind the professor. You can see the other party members come into the tent. The professor looks up and sees you three: “Welcome! Come in! Are you interested in learning about the mysteries of Atlantis?”
Chuck:: “Yes, we are. Specifically, we were wondering if you could tell us anything about this.” I show him the bronze tablet.
Jon: I’ll reach through the curtain, put my knife against the guy’s throat, and say, "You better talk, motherfucker.’
<dead silence, as everyone digests this>
Me: He screams like a girl and faints.
Mark: I run and get a security guard.
Chad: I draw my gun.
Chuck I throw the tablet at Jon’s head.
Me: Roll to strike.
Chuck: Nailed him!
Me: Jon, you’re stunned. You drop your knife and let go of the professor, who collapses.
Chad: I step forward and pistol whip him. And I hit.
Me: Jon, you’re on the ground. Mark, you see two cops running towards the tent.
Mark: I point to the tent. “In there! Some madman is attacking Professor Smith!”
Me: They run in and tackle Jon. In the twinkle of an eye, they’ve got him pinned and cuffed. They haul him away while the local nurse revives the professor.
Chad: I hide my gun while they’re arresting Jon.
Me: They don’t notice. The professor wakes up, mops at his brow, and asks, “What’s this about a tablet?”
Jon had to sit out the next thirty minutes of the game until the other characters could bail him out. It was a “Stupidity Penalty.” Jon got a lot of those. Luckily, this time he didn’t wipe out the entire party in the process.
Ah, gaming quotes.
Favorite line of mine:
The intrepid party was warily exploring a tower, when we came to the living quarters of what was pretty obviously a necromancer (we had fought through a couple rooms of undead, moldering corpse in the corner, books on animating dead lying around, the usual). Well, we did what any party would do in this situation: turn the place upside down looking for loot.
Player1: I look under the mattress
Player2: What kind of porn would a necromancer have?
Me: What, you’ve never heard of “Ghouls gone wild”?
Another line that I constantly hear from a couple of guys in my gaming group (although I wasn’t in that particular campaign) was from a game when their party got into a battle where they had to die (the DM had the next plot point involving meeting a spirit or something, they’d be brought back to life).
DM: He shoots a fireball at you.
Player: I dodge it! (I can’t remember the system, but this actually should have worked with the player’s skills)
DM: It’s a homing fireball!
Almost the same exact line came up in a Call of Cthulhu game I played. I think all of our investigators were a little low on sanity points by then. :eek:
One of the guys in the group had an elf PC called Liut with excellent skills for training and raising animals. When I joined the group (long after they started, big mistake), he had a veritable zoo travelling with him.
Me: Liut, how do you feed all of your animals?
Liut (stops, mumbles, thinks, realizes he never bothered) A kind of magic.
So every time Liut wanted to do something without pondering how and why, and the DM would ask, we would jump up and magic “It’s a Kind of Magic!”
The guy got pissed after a while and went thuggish. Typical situation:
Me: Wow, I found [cool magic item]!
Liut: If you don’t give it to me, I’ll have my gorilla sodomize you.
Me: Ha ha ha! 
Liut: I order my gorilla to sodomize Liut.
Me: :eek:
We solved the problem simply by not inviting Liut anymore.
And sing “It’s a Kind of Magic”. Duh. :smack:
You’re not wrong. Supposedly the original protagonist of the infamous ‘Gazebo’ story was named Eric.
During a recent campaign, my party came upon a cave of , well, snow-beasts (think the Wampa from Empire Strikes Back). My character, a cleric, took a defensive position outside the cave, which provoked the beasts to attack. After the ensuing melee, one of the party found a fallen human (a fumble) below a treehouse with books and scrolls indicating that this was the last surviving family of the creatures in the area, and we’d not only lust killed them down to the last one, but also their saintly observer. Upon finding the evidence, I remarked, “Congratulations, people, we just nuked the petting zoo. Oh, and you know Jane Goodall? Nice shot, ranger.”
I’ll never forget the story of Mighty Honknar!