Tell me about your Dungeons & Dragons character!

The two D&D characters I have used on the rare occasions I actually play D&D over the last few years are a kenku monk and a goblin ranger. Although both are functional characters purely in terms of game mechanics, I enjoy playing them because they are both bonkers.

The kenku monk is named Gong - not the word, but the sound a gong makes. Kenku can only speak by imitating what they hear, so throughout the session, I write down quotes of things the other characters and the NPCs say, and Gong only communicates by way of me mimicking what the others have said, rather like an embarrassing parrot who repeats all your bad language when it is least appropriate.

The goblin ranger has a selectively poor grasp of Common grammar, and when asked his name always says “Mii Goblin!” Like the omnisexual Captain Jack Harkness from Torchwood and Dr Who, Mii flirts with anything than moves, but lacking Captain Jack’s charm, no one ever reciprocates Mii’s attentions. Whichever troll, surly bartender, or elf queen who would be the most awkward gets a wink and a one-line come-on from the three foot tall would-be Romeo.

This is Manrich Proudglass, a halfling thief / assassin. I generated the pic in Midjourney.

Here’s some backstory I wrote for the DM at the start of our campaign. For context, the campaign is happening in a continent the DM created from scratch. The Peacekeepers are the national police force; Manrich started the campaign busted back to a grunt for reasons unknown to both the character and I. I assume the DM knows what happened. :grinning:

It’s pronounced Man-REEK. He’s fussy about that, and doesn’t appreciate the obvious jokes.

Chaotic good.

Recruited into the Peacekeepers, Manrich’s talent for sneaking and skulduggery meant that he was soon seconded to the Intelligence department. He did well and honed his skills there, but was busted back to being a regular grunt for some unspecified transgression.

Manrich’s missions in the Intelligence department tended towards the clandestine - burglary, spying, infiltration and sometimes “direct targeted action against high-value individuals”. During his time in the Peacekeepers Intelligence department, Manrich used his skills to serve the Empire, but often his conscience would get the better of him and he’d go “off-mission”, solving the problem that he thought he ought to solve rather than the one he’d been tasked with. He characterised this as having a high degree of personal autonomy, but maybe his superiors saw things differently… which might be why he finds himself back in the Peacekeepers main force.

Manrich doesn’t have much time for petty considerations such as paperwork, rules, mission parameters or the finer details of who actually owns that thing in his pocket. The ends justify the means, but those ends are usually on the side of the angels.

In terms of gameplay mechanics, he’s first and foremost a thief, but I put high points into charisma so that he could lie, cheat and persuade his way to his objectives. It hasn’t been that sort of campaign yet though, and in practice his role is to skulk in the shadows and deal damage with Sneak Attack (a tactic that has the added bonus of annoying the DM no end). In our last session, Manrich abandoned his natural caution and emerged from behind the upturned table that was his home for the battle and sprinted across open ground - getting peppered with arrows for his trouble. He won’t be making that mistake again.

Huh, it shouldn’t. That’s pretty basic Rogue 101, there. Is the DM somehow unfamiliar with rogues?

We’re all kind of new at it. His first time DMing, my first time playing. I’m sure he was expecting the tactic, but maybe not how effective it’s proved.

One other odd thing about the character: despite his high DEX, he’s guaranteed to fail an acrobatics check when leaping across something. When presented with a pit, a hole or a gap between rooftops, I’ll roll a one without fail. Poor old Manrich spends a lot of time flat on his backside with his ego bruised.

Sneak attack is a strong ability that allows for some really great single-target numbers, but the drawback is right there - single target. If your DM is annoyed by how much damage you’re dumping on the baddy, he should vary the composition of his enemy groups. Larger groups of weaker enemies are a natural counter because you can only smack one at a time.

Especially with very weak enemies (with the appropriate numbers to compensate for their weakness). A stirge, say, will die from any hit, so that hit being a sneak attack is completely irrelevant.

Also, there might be enemies immune to sneak attack. Back in the 2/3/3.5 days, entities without discernable anatomy (e.g. plant creatures, constructs, jellies) or undead were immune to crits. And everything immune to crits was also immune to sneak attack. (Certain undead, like vampires, never made sense for that immunity.)

Starting from 4e and continuing into 5e, there are less general rules for creature types and more specific exceptions on an individual level. So the DM could do some research and find out which enemies are immune.

Or give them a wondrous item that accomplishes the same thing. There is always going to be a wondrous item somewhere that will do pretty much anything you want it to. Even if it isn’t a stock wondrous item, there should be rules for how to make one up. (Granted, any wondrous item you give to an enemy should become treasure of the party should they take the enemy out.)

It kind of does. If you’re undead, then getting stabbed from behind in the kidney by the rogue is no worse than getting stabbed in the shoulder by the fighter. All those organs are just to keep your torso from deflating, they don’t need to actually work.

Not DnD but a Savage Worlds game, set in an alternate 1930’s where magic exists. Kind of a Doc Savage vibe. The party are a gang of childhood friends, now tasked by a wealthy acquaintance to retrieve occult items.

My character: Hyman “Hymie” Rabinowitz, thief and knife fighter. Skeptical at first, his world view changed when he saw the party magic user cast a fireball (sort of) at a gigantic humanoid. He’s fiercly loyal to his friends, but has a drinking problem. Another player is playing my brother Ezekiel “Zeke” Rabinowitz, a gun fighter with near preturnatural aim.

I’m enjoying trying cheesy pseudonoir dialog. “Say, pal, this fella’s offering us a job, see. What’s with the third degree?”

Zombies don’t need kidneys, but what about hamstrings? A mace to a skeleton’s forearm is a lot less devastating than a mace to its spine. Same thing with constructs - a golem might just be a hunk of stone, but the stone is a lot less thick at the knees then at the torso, and critical hits (particularly in the absences of rules for called shots) are a way of modelling hits to a structurally weaker part of the body.

Probably not? They’re just animated bodies. If skeletons can make a 30’ movement with literally no hamstrings, I’m guessing a zombie can pull off 20’ after being stabbed.

[Edit: 20’ is the 5e rate. 3.5e zombie people move 30’ like skeletons which still makes sense to me. 20’ is more flavorful from a shambling undead perspective but, again, if a skeleton can trot around with literally no connective tissue, there’s no reason to assume zombies, animated by the same spell, need that stuff either aside from providing the extra bulk for their extra HD. Heck, your stereotypical zombie is a half rotten mass of flesh anyway]

3rd ed. zombies had 30’ move, but could only take a single action a turn, so they still had that shambling flavor.

Im in an Elder Scrolls inspired campaign and am playing a "bard’…but he’s basically just me playing as the late monologist Spalding Gray. He doesnt use and instrument…he just talks a lot. A lot.