#using greentext outside of 4chan

[tea-and-secrets]

You know for as much as a shithole nightmare zone 4chan is, they were fucking geniuses for coming up with greentext formatting.

>Things written in this format. >Are so fucking nice to read. >Extremely sort sentences organized in a row? Yes please. >Even when I'm having a bad brainfog day from ADHD. >Greentext is still very easy for me to read. >I don't have to reread the same paragraph 5 times.

I wish more people would use it outside of 4chan. :(

.

[klapollo]

always kills me seeing ppl trying to export chan culture to Tumblr and Twitter through greentexting bc back in my day using greentext on any platform outside 4chan was an internet faux pas according to 4channers. like ur trying to jack shithead swag and ur not even following their rules

[stupid-lemon-eater]

[Image 1 ID: Screenshot of a 4chan greentext post. The post reads as follows:

Anonymous 02/27/11(Sun)01:34 No.14058910 >walking home from a party late one evening >several guys were following me, as my drunk ass managed to piss them off by existing >try to walk faster, to no avail, as I'm drunk as shit >catch me in some random student neighbourhood >oh shit, my ass is about to be beaten >still in talking phase >lights flick on in a house >three guys in full musketeer garb walk out >leader is some blond guy with a beard, eyepatch, and some weird-ass accent >'What sort of ruffians would be accosting someone outside our residence? Stand and deliver!' >guys start yelling at them to fuck off, that I deserved to get my ass beaten >"Very well, then. Draw steel, you blackguard!" >all three of them draw rapiers on their belts >guys run >"I know not why those foul men sought your harm, but come and tell us the tale, stranger!" >spend remainder of evening drinking mulled wine with lunatics >bunch of Swedish re-enactors live there >blond guy is actually missing an eye; lost it in a machine shop accident >stagger home completely drunk with a hat I had no idea people like that existed. Or had the money to rent a house.

/end ID]

[Image 2 ID: Screenshot of another 4chan post. The post reads as follows:

Anonymous 03/24/11(Thu)17:57 No.14353317 >>14353245 Holy shit, this is still being posted? I figure I owe /tg/ a bit of an update on these guys. Their leader, O he of one eye and little common sense, nearly had his visa revoked for these kinds of shenanigans. One too many arrests meant that his right to stay in the country was contested, and he had to go to court to defend himself and prevent his visa from being revoked. I was his ride to court, and had to testify to the board that he shouldn't be deported for lack of common sense or social normality. His defense? A written speech, about three pages long, about the rights of man, the education he has received here, and the opportunities for a one-eyed machinist. The spirit of his crimes were all in defnse of poeple who would otherwise suffer. For other witnesses, he had some of the random people he'd helped out, including one memorable point where a woman, nearly on the verge of tears, pointed out how he'd takne on a guy threatning to rape her and carrying a knife by whipping out a fencing saber, disarming him, and mocking him in his thick Swedish accent so that the girl could call the cops. Something like a dozen people all showed up, explaining how this dude, despite his eccentricities, made the country better. He was not deported, and lives here to this very day, stalking the streets in musketeer garb, rescuing drunks, and dispensing his own brand of justice.

/end ID]

[be-gentle-with-littluns-2]

don't make fun of me but this only makes sense to me in greentext form

>be me

>find random rb with this user @'d

>click, thinking "eh, why not"

>scroll down

>"...he/they/it/bug..."

get in the petri dish I must study you for my bug collection

(IM SO SORRY I DKNG USE 4CHAN I GO OUTSIDE AND HAVE A GIRLFRIEND 😭 😭 😭)

YIPPEEEE I'M SO HAPPY i will happily be studied and you will end up hating me

[theladygazingatemptiness]

I remember someone was like "why is greentexting outside of 4chan taboo" and someone (very correctly) said "bc a lot of racists and neo-nazis use it" and the replies were full of people smugly going "oh sometimes racists eat BBQ too so I guess we're not allowed to eat BBQ anymore!!" and it was like. if y'all genuinely cannot tell the difference between eating BBQ and using a prominent white supremacist dog whistle that literally no one outside of weird internet imageboards uses I really truly do not know what to say to you

[solaredarisen]

I wanna spread the folkstory of Sangkuriang to y'all non-Indonesian but due to the absurd level of wtf it has, it can only be described in 4chan greentext format

There is a kingdom

The king went to the forest

The king pees in the forest

A boar see the king peeing

The boar drink the pee

The boar gets pregnant from the pee

Dayang Sumbi was born from said pig

Dayang Sumbi dropped her terompong (tool to spin threads) outside the palace

Dog god give it back to her like a good boy

She and the dog god got married

She and the dog god move to a cottage

They had SEX (...the dog god turned human but the point is that no one question the bestiality)

Sangkuriang was born from that

Dayang Sumbi send him and his dog god father to hunt a deer for liver at 10 y/o

Sangkuriang accidentally killed his dog god father

Sangkuriang took the dog god liver

Sangkuriang told his mother that the liver is the dog god's IN THE MIDDLE OF EATING

She got mad and kicked him out

shefeelsbad.png

She prayed to the gods and become a vegan while waiting for him to return

Sangkuriang return ±1 decade later

Sangkuriang sees his own mother and FALL IN LOVE WITH HER

Sangkuriang is a dumbass to not remember she is his mother

Dayang Sumbi acted quick amd told him to make a huge ass ship

Sangkuriang does that with help of spirits/demons

Dayang Sumbi stop him at 99% finish by using roosters and holy shawl that flashed light

Sangkuriang angy

Samgkuriang kick the ship (don't ask)

Ship turn into mountain

[chuunibyoucatgirl]

this stuff is infuriating and it genuinely just follows from an inability to recognize bigotry (in themselves and others) outside of bright line obvious things like opening a 4chan page and having slurs tossed at you like a bucket of ice water that's more ice than water there's this strangely persistent belief that it's not racism, transphobia, etc. if you're civil while being evil, instead throwing slurs while committing hate crimes. 4chan is the site people know for throwing slurs while committing hate crimes, and its far enough away from their actual lives (except as a machine that occasionally produces a funny greentext) that they can just mythologize its evil and go "the problem is over there, where I'm not! I'm a Good Person" and wash their hands of it. it's not that 4chan isn't evil—the site makes me feel ill looking at it nowadays. it's just that it's become the defining caricature of evil to the point people can't recognize anything less than it as bad. it's the same as not being able to recognize a nazi if they're not in a uniform that even a 5-year-old would think belongs to a villain while actively trying to terrorize minorities. it puts the "them" very very very far away from the "us" so people can feel safe and happy and confident they aren't a part of a problem that they are still, ultimately, at least a minor part of it's the same thing as rape culture and how people kind of wash their hands of, absolve, and ultimately enable lots of awful behavior because it doesn't meet their standards of bright line evil rape and "oh we wouldn't want them to be known as a rapist! that's life-ruining!" it's the same shit. so you get "just punching down at some girl on the internet with a bad opinion isn't being bigoted! you're the bigot!" even if they probably wouldn't have made fun of them if they weren't queer. because they can't countenance that anything less than misgendering people and slurring them and beating them up or killing them could be bigoted, all because their idea of "being a bigot" is literally being a comic book nazi

It may seem strange how many "progressives" are angered by the pretty obvious and milquetoast assertion that "Bigotry is a problem of broader society that manifests on many websites in many ways". But if you concede that 4chan isn't this unique font of absolute evil, a certain sort of tumblr user would lose one of their favourite pejoratives for trans women. Like the whole "4chan basement loser" thing already fits into their idea of trans women (at least the ones they don't wanna fuck) as "pathetic fail men". And by acting like mere association with 4chan (real or imagined) politically taints you in a way that say facebook or tumblr doesn't, you don't even have to feel guilty because those weird trannies are obviously bad people who love bigotry no further explanation needed. Sure there's no shortage of ways you can justify harassing trans women but a lot that requires more work; you need to spend like 5 seconds looking up what she actually said or did. Throwing out "they're a channer" (while yourself being a tumblr user) is just too convenient to give up

[water-to-drink]

Ghost Puncher

(Characters): Scaramouche, Childe, & Xinyan

(Summary): After moving into a new apartment you realize there’s a ghost haunting it, but you don’t plan on making it easy for the ghost

(Warnings): Cursing, like a lot of cursing, reader almost dies, Scara is referred to as ghost until the last part, not proofread, (let me know if I miss anything)

(A/n): Heavily inspired by the 4chan greentext post of the same name, you can listen to a reading here, wrote this in one sitting, and don’t anything in this too seriously

─────────── ☠︎ ───────────

Finally having months of saving and looking for an apartment you found one! You were surprised when it was cheap and in a nice place which means everything is a lot more expensive

Everything seems to going your way until on your way back from food shopping, an air conditioner almost falls on your head; had you been a few steps closer it definitely would have landed on you

Despite being shaken up by this, you chalked it up to it being a near freak accident and continued with your day

After that incident you noticed a lot more unusual things happen around or to you. It all culminated when while watching tv you noticed the little silver charm you carry for protection was melted. It wasn’t hot, it was cold to the touch

Suddenly the lights went off, you know your electric bill had been paid so maybe a power outage? No. You can see the block still have there lights on. So what the fuck?

A loud scream turns your attention towards a corner of the room that’s drenched in darkness

You grabbed the bat you always kept near the tv and swung it at the noise

The bat hit something and the screaming stopped

The lights turn back on and you see that your bat connected to the wall, making a hole in it

Well shit, that’s something you’re gonna have to deal with later. You decided to call it a night and go to bed

The next day as you were about to make yourself dinner you see a shadowy figure run towards you. While trying to escape the figure you ran out of the apartment and the moment you got out, your front door slammed shut

“What the FUCK?!?!?!”

“Oh you’re the unlucky person who just moved into that haunted apartment?”

A tall man with messy orange hair asked while he rummage for his keys in his pocket

You stood there dumbfounded, your apartment is haunted by a fucking ghost. You should’ve noticed something was up with how cheap rent was. Usually a normal person’s response to this revelation is to move out, but that’s bitch behavior and you weren’t raised to pussy out when things get tough

“Hey are you okay…?” Your neighbor asked concerned about your silence

“Yeah, I’m good.” You muttered as you made sure you had your phone in your pocket, which you did. “I need to do some shopping.”

You walked down the hall, not giving your neighbor a chance to respond to you. If he said something then you didn’t hear it over you thanking your older relatives constantly nagging to wear shoes inside so you don’t get sick. You walked outside with your house shoes on, another reason to be pissed at the ghost

After a few hours out, you finally came back into your apartment

You put your bags down and continue to make yourself dinner. When you needed to chop some vegetables, you walked towards the bags and pull out the ouija board you bought. Taking it out and washing it you used it as a cutting board

“You know you ain’t shit, ghost?” You said as you chopped onions. “You’re doing all this poltergeist shit to make me scared of you. You can eat my ass with this bullshit!”

Once done cutting up the vegetables, you started stabbing the knife into the ouija board

“Bitch ass ghost! Trying to make me leave MY HOUSE!!!!” You said as you stabbed into the board

The board was unusable when you were done. You broke the ouija in half and threw it in the garbage can

After that whole ordeal you took your plate and had dinner

A few days have passed and you gotten to know your neighbors pretty well, the ginger who told you your apartment is haunted was a pretty cool guy. He introduced himself as Childe and introduced you to another neighbor just on a different floor, Xinyan. You’re at a cafe with your new friends, well you’re outside making a call while the two talk. You eventually got back to the table and apologize for leaving them

“Don’t be, must’a been important to make it outside.” Xinyan reassured

“Were you calling a priest? The noises in your apartment have been loud as of late, louder than when the last person lived there.” Childe said as he took a sip from his drink

“No I was leaving a voicemail to my house. I got one of those old house phones that tells you the message someone left.”

“Uhh… What was in the message?” Xinyan asked almost afraid of your answer

“I told the ghost if I find my shit all over the place, I’ma slap the shit out it.”

Xinyan and Childe looked at you like you were crazy (which has some truth to it to be doing what you’re doing)

“What…” Childe said in disbelief and horror

“The other night when it was screaming I took my bat and swung around, and I connected with something fleshy a few times so I knows I’m serious.”

Your two friends shared glances at each other, not sure if they should call a priest or a psychiatrist for you

The next day you were visited by Xinyan and Childe. You greeted them and saw how the smiles on their faces quickly turned into looks of pure horror

Your walls has messages written all over it such as: bitch ghost, suck my dick ghost fucker and a lot more they don’t want to repeat

“Please don’t mind the mess.” You lead them in with a smile

How can you still smile when in a situation like this?!

Xinyan puts the container full of cookies on your coffee table and noticed a book with multiple pages torn from it

“Ermm, what’s this book here and why are there pages missing?” The rocker asked hesitantly

“It’s a book about demons, I’ve been blowing my nose and wiping my ass with the pages.” You explained nonchalantly

Yeah, definitely a psychiatrist

Before the two can express their concerns high pitched screaming filled the apartment

Childe tries to shield Xinyan with his body while you went and grabbed your trusty bat

“Showing your ass, now that there’s people here?!?!” You yelled as you looked for a shadowy figure to hit

Not seeing one you opted to start hitting the wall, the screaming got more intense, you didn’t know if was Xinyan and Childe screaming at you, or the ghost, or both. You didn’t care so you kept making holes in the wall

“Oh my god! Stop! Stop!!!” A disembodied voice shrieked

A short man with indigo hair and blue eyes materialized in front of you

Xinyan started screaming uncontrollably and you smashed a hole in the wall, making a pre-existenting hole bigger

“Don’t scream! You’re giving this musty fucker more power!” You yelled as you try to undo what Xinyan did by making another hole

“Don’t make anymore holes in the wall! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” The ghost exclaimed

“You’re attached to this apartment?” You asked

“Yeah, jackass! Why would I be haunting you if I didn’t have an attachment to this place?! So stop destroying it!!”

“Why should I? You’re just going to keep being a dickhead!” You asked while readying your bat

“I promise I won’t haunt you anymore! The screaming, the flickering lights, all that, just stop!”

You lowered your bat and turned towards your neglected guests

“You guys hungry?”

The ghost stayed true to his word, he didn’t cause you any problems. In a sense you have a roommate who’s a ghost. He seems cool, a bit of an asshole, but he gets quiet real quick when you reach for the bat. Other than that he’s a good friend you learned his name, Scaramouche, but you just call him Scara for short

Xinyan and Childe still can’t believe you scared a ghost so much to the point the ghost had to tell you to stop. They’ve gotten used to him though, you four even come together to play games and watch moves. And that’s how you got the nickname “Ghost Puncher”

[arcticmonkeysproblems]

>looks at asks >over 200 unanswered asks >oh

[somekindagaydog-blog]

Adding onto that last post:

It's not that I don't like tumblr, I actually do a lot, but I feel like I'm a little late to the whole deal and i'm kind of a weird outsider in a way that is somehow too outsider for tumblr, but that also might be me thinking to hard about it and trying to hard. So like.. I don't know. I want to use this site more cus I really like the vibe some of it has. Before I had a rule where if I was going to read tumblr it had to be on a neutral ground that I use for nothing else without being able to engage directly with it so I wouldn't embarass myself (I basically use reddit to read tumblr and greentext (because even though I post here occasionally I refuse to ever go near 4chan, but do enjoy some greentext post occasionally) because that's just neutral ground). Eventually I realized though that almost every social media site is a nightmare, but tumblr's is special. It's like lovecraftian horror where it defies comprehension, but doesn't go as far with it as 4chan does where it incorporates the racism implicit in lovecraftian horror.

Anyways that's me being an idiot all the time especially on this site I guess.

[peysk]

They’re so pathetic in general. /vt/ users love to behave, as all 4chan hobby board users do, like expert veterans, really experienced people who have seen everything and have discovered what the only correct way to interact with media is: with a combination of heartless apathy and bilious hatred, But here’s the kicker: These people are mostly absolute newbies, fail n00bz when it comes to interacting with japanese idols. You can see it all the time there:

-Something, anything, or even Nothing happens to a specific Hololive girl. Maybe she got busted for having a boyfriend, or someone made a credible theory for that being the case, or, more likely, an unlikely theory for that being the case, or, even more likely, Nothing has happened to her and people are simply bored

-anons make threads implying or teasing the possibility that she may retire from her vtubing job soon, talk about it like it’s a done deal, write their little greentext bullet point list explaining the full causality behind why this should happen

-people in the comments act credulous, as if this happening was “always obvious”

-time passes, nothing happens.

-since they’re all anonymous, there’s no useful way of shaming people for making 100 unsuccessful predictions a month

-the cicle starts again

The noob component here Isn’t the fact that they never predict things correctly, it’s the fact that this doesn’t actually matter to them.

The reason why at any given time 50% of the threads on /vt/ are all doomposting about how nijisanji, hololive, any 1 specific talent or group of them is Definitely nosediving and will be gone and destroyed soon isn’t because they believe it, but because they are afraid of the version of themselves that isn’t emotionally ready for it to potentially happen.

 They keep a constant cloud of pessimism, of predicting any good successful thing crashing and burning because /vt/ users problematize joy and optimism from a fundamental point of view. if you are enjoying something sincerely, that gives people an opening to depict you as a soyjack. a despicable little character who’s biggest sin is feeling unfettered joy. This is the way in which the behavior that outsiders see as being the sign of /vt/’s tough as nails rough and tough badass way of interacting with media is actually just a symptom of their ineptitude. They never learned how to deal with what you do when your favorite idol graduates, or with how to cope with losing a thing you love in general.

A normal idol fan comprehends from the moment they get fixated on an idol or an idol project that one day they’ll have to move on, but these people, who prohibit themselves from feeling joy if they know it will eventually end, have to create a secondary market of second hand enjoyment:

 You can’t just love Tsunomaki Watame, because one day she may graduate or do something as unforgivable as have sex with a man, so you have to invent a fake version of Watame, a Watame that’s the patron saint of doxxers and other online harrassers.

You can’t enjoy Korone because if the wrong people see you liking the Dog Girl Vtuber that will be an opening for them to make fun of you for being a fan of a “hag” (what they call women above 25), so you have to preface all threads about korone with some ironic nod to how she’s an old hag so that no one can tell you again.

[restekova]

anyway, here’s the REALLY hard-hitting analysis: bakugo literally sweating nitroglycerin and carrying around literally jugs of his own saved-up sweat bigger than his biceps is the single most cursed shonen anime battle power i’ve ever seen outside of jojo. every time it gets brought up i lose my fucking mind. who okayed this? does anyone else think about this? this 16-year-old boy is literally carrying around jugs of his own old, stockpiled, nasty rank teenage boy sweat. i mean HUGE jugs of it, and it's not like he wears that costume all the time so i assume he just leaves any leftover sweat in there when he's done with it to use next time. so at least some of this stuff has been sitting. SITTING. for days. possibly weeks. possibly MONTHS. who KNOWS how long that stuff has been in there. F E R M E N T I N G. JARS. OF LIQUID. SWEAT. BAKUGO’S SWEAT JARS. does he wear deodorant?? i bet he doesn't when he fights so that he sweats more?? before villains hear him they fucking SMELL him from a mile away before he can even get in there. the testosterone, the bacteria, just rotting. who said this was okay. literally the most foul thing i’ve ever imagined. jars of his own sweat. it’s like something you would find on a 4chan greentext that went viral for being horrifically unsanitary. his explosions smell like unwashed booty ass and no one can do anything about it because if you give him advice he’ll kill you

[helloitsbees]

also, using greentext format outside of 4chan……simply could not be me

this is entrapment

[tahthetrickster]

ppl like to make fun of me for using greentext outside of 4chan to tell short anecdotes but honestly? greentext is an underrated format for telling stories in a short, pithy, often-humorous way and i will hear no mockery about it

also, there’s nothing quite as succinct and satisfying as absolutely infuriating someone with a single word: >implying

[b1uecandlehomestuck]

FRIENDSIM EPISODE 6b: KUPRUM AND FOLYKL

>INITIAL EXPECTATIONS

I saw the wiki pages for these two before I read them and the fact that they used greentexting and the word normie were immediately deeply concerning. Not that I have any issue against greentexting, I tend to do it on a regular basis, though it’s pretty obviously embarrassing to admit, especially in the context of two characters who seem to have been made solely to make fun of 4chan. Pretty much any time an outside source attempts to poke fun at 4chan, it’s just asking for a disaster.

>THE CHARACTERS

Kuprum is a pretty obvious jab at /pol/’s obsession with Trump. For a bit of backstory, /pol/ is 4chan’s political board; it’s always been infamous for being the worst board on the site, not just by outsiders, but by people who use the site, which I can personally vouch for. During the 2016 elections, for many reasons, /pol/ completely exploded in popularity. From then on, /pol/ will never stop talking about Trump. This seems to be pretty clearly reflected in Kuprum’s obsession with Trizza, with the added symbolism being that Trizza is meant to in some way reflect Trump. While, frankly, I hate this, and hate real world politics being involved by a writing team with a sense of subtlety equal to a truck crashing through your house, it’s... actually not a horrible comparison. At least, the fact that a part of 4chan is just obsessed with politics now. Or, I’m just reading into it too much. Of course, none of this is really confirmed, so just look at it as a theory and don’t pay it too much mind. Either way, I think Kuprum is actually alright. He’s a noisy, perverted little shit, he’s antagonistic without being outright unenjoyable, and the fact that he shows genuine concern for Folykl’s wellbeing, despite his attitude of “fuck everything and everyone” attitude, is really sweet.

Folykl, on the other hand, may just represent the rest of 4chan. Slowly dying, with a strong disdain for Kuprum constantly rambling about Trizza. But, I’ve talked about this theory long enough. Folykl herself, like Kuprum, is the perfect amount of mean and perverted without beating you over the head with it until you bleed out. Her disease, Voidrot, is also interesting (And actually gives her a good reason for having unique eyes), and provides a more than valid reason for her behavior. She’s also significantly less obnoxious than Kuprum is. All in all, both are surprisingly interesting, for what they are.

Also, they have the worst sprites yet. They also have Elwurd’s weird, angular-shaped head, as well as having very, very little facial expressions.

>THE STORY

It’s another “we stand around and talk” story, so it’s not terribly interesting itself (aside from running from the imperial drone), but Kuprum and Folykl are fairly capable of carrying the story. I suppose that’s fair enough, since it’s two characters getting an equal amount of limelight.

>CONCLUSION

Shockingly decent for characters meant to mimic 4chan. The fact that they’re enjoyable at all, let alone good, is impressive. KUPRUM: 6/10 FOLYKL: 9/10

[raudskegg]

Ooghie, Honorary Dwarf

Quick note: This is not my work, but from a 4chan greentext on Reddit, but I thought it was too perfect to not be shared.

Let me regale you with the tale of my parties beloved Oohgie, Honorary Dwarf.

Our party consisted of good friends that had known each other, a reformed That Guy, and Lucas the veteran. We had a pretty decent group, consisting of a Dwarf Warrior, Human Paladin, Human Warlock, Tiefling Rogue, me playing a Half-Elf Ranger, and a Human Mage.

We were in the relatively early stages of an epic campaign, and had been greeted by a sudden surge of slightly stronger enemies. What made these enemies slightly sturdier? Well, according to our DM, they had been gifted with what could only be described as ‘slap-dash metal riveted together by clumsy hands’. This led us to a few leads in town that culminated in hearing of an Ogre that had taken up residence in an abandoned forge and begun crafting rudimentary armor and weapons for the local minions, and of course this led to our first quest; Kill the Ogre, stop the attacks.

After what felt like an hour of minion stomping and quest cruisin’, we found the forge, and killed a few of the outlying minions to prevent an unwelcome intrusion with the upcoming boss fight. We prepared ourselves (No cleric, had to be especially careful with potion rations, added some fun to the game), and had the Tiefling sneak in and make sure we could sneak up without any trouble, or annoying traps going off. She gave us the all clear, and we shuffled inside, praying our sneak checks held up.

Inside the large forge, we followed the sound of clanging metal and deep grunts. Lucas took the lead, preparing to call in a few favors from Bahamut, with Raj the Dwarf following closely behind him. When we turned the corner, the DM informed us we saw the large shape moving around the anvil and smelter, which we all knew meant the Ogre. I asked to roll for initiative, to sneak in a shot and perhaps swing the battle to our favor, but Lucas had another plan.

Lucas rolls for a diplomacy check, and takes the lead by speaking with the Ogre.

“Why are you making armor for evil?”

The Ogre stopped and turned around in surprise. The DM apparently was surprised we didn’t flat out attack, and he asked us for a moment to pen something down. After his pen stopped, he cleared his throat.

“Make armor here. Ogre’s no like make armor, so make armor for gob-gobs. They like.”

The Ogre then went on to tell us about how he discovered a book about crafting, and decided to try making some himself. Judging from the simplicity of the story, our DM hadn’t expected us to be diplomatic and just threw together something to explain why an Ogre would want to spend his time with a hammer and anvil instead of hunting adventurers and eating goats.

As the story dragged on, and we learned that the Ogre had been kicked out for finding a book from another culture, we slowly kinda silently agreed to avoid killing him, since the image of this 9 foot tall Ogre tinkering away at an anvil to make small-medium sized armor was too funny to pass up. When the Ogre got to the part where he revealed he couldn’t read the book (which was a Dwarven guide apparently) and was just following the pictures, Lucas decided to chime in.

“Why don’t you come with us? We have a Dwarf who can translate the book for you, and you can learn to make better armor.”

The DM looked a little confused, but decided that the Ogre would be allowed to be a friendly NPC in the party if we all allowed it.

And thus we were joined by Oohgie the Crafting Ogre.

First thing we did once we went into town was calm the mob that had appeared and attempted to kill Oohgie. Five diplomacy checks, a bluff check, and almost a third of my gold later, the town relents and lets us stay with him for the night. Oohgie was really excited by this prospect and asked if he could visit the blacksmith, which Lucas had to explain was probably not a good idea. Since there wasn’t a room in town big enough to hold him, we told Oohgie to sleep in the stables.

“Oohgie understand. Oohgie try not make hummies mad.”

That night, before ending the session, we joked about how silly this all was, taking in an Ogre that didn’t want to fight. We told some jokes, made a few jabs at how we thought the Ogre was going to bite the dust, and called it a session.

Next session, we woke up, paid for food until the next town, and left the inn, picking up Oohgie from the stables on the way out.

During the journey, Oohgie kept bothering Raj, the Dwarf, and asking about 'Crafty-Smiths’ and 'Clang-clang tools’. Now, Raj is my Dude-bro I’ve known for years, and even though this is obviously bothering him answering every question, he at least tries to be nice to the insistent pestering. In hindsight, this was probably our DM’s attempt to leave Oohgie behind so he could get back to the focus, but we managed to persist and kept him with us to the next town.

This time, deciding that we cannot afford to argue Oohgie into town every and spend half our income. Being a ranger, I offer to set up a camp just outside the town’s borders that we can keep Oohgie and hunt some pelts for extra income. Raj offers to stay in camp with me and Oohgie, with Lucas heading into town for the temple and the Rogue, Wizard and Warlock will search for quests.

As we set up the tents, I ask if it’s possible to use Oohgie as a deterrent against mobs in the local area. The DM allows a roll, and with a 17, says that Oohgie’s natural 'musk’ alerts the other monsters in the area to stay away. Raj stayed behind as I pick off some local wildlife for our dinner.

While I hunted, Oohgie asked Raj more questions about the book.

“How Oohgie make?”

“You can’t. That needs a bar of iron and a forge.”

“Oohgie make forge?”

“I, uh, don’t think there’s enough materials around here to do that.”

The Wizard returned to our camp, letting the Rogue and Warlock threaten a local mayor for a better reward. The Wizard proposed he make a temporary forge for Oohgie using some spells and his fire magic. As for iron, the group has a bag of holding full of old weapons we had earned from defeating a minor demon. Oohgie, who was ecstatic at the idea, asked if he could make armor for his 'Dwarfy friend who read Oohgie book’. Not seeing the harm in such an idea, we agreed and Oohgie set to work.

In the morning, when we had awoken, Lucas, the Rogue, and the Warlock had also returned to camp. After we explained the plan for the newest quest, we gathered up our things and decided to wake Oohgie. Turns out the poor bastard had spent half the night banging away at the old pile of scrap and made a chest-piece, aptly titled by the DM as 'Oohgies Chess Peace o’ Protect’, which was described as a hodge-podge of metal sheets roughly slapped together. Raj, being such a Dude-bro, offered to wear it despite it having one less protection point against slash. As the DM described Oohgie’s dumb smiling face, I felt a pang of guilt for making fun of him.

Many quests continued on with Oohgie the Crafting Ogre, who had the neat ability to craft a priece of armor or weapon every 1d4 nights, and the DM would use 2d20’s to determine the item he crafted. About two months of in game time passed, and Oohgie had made us some slightly less than useful items, with no sign of improving. Sometimes we’d sell the things he made, other-times we wore them for Oohgie, just to make him happy. By the fifth quest, I had an 'Oohgie’s Wristy Gerd Gloves’.

When we finally located one of the main storyline quests, we also happened to pass by a temple of Moradin, which had two dozen forges surrounding it for his followers to craft weapons for Paladins. It was like trying to hold a 9 foot tall child back from a toy-store.

“Oohgie see Crafty-Smiths! Maybe one teach Oohgie make better armor!”

“Best not rush them, Oohgie,” Raj said, rolling for a diplomacy check to calm Oohgie down.

“But Oohgie want make better armor for friends.”

That hit us hard, and Lucas, being the de facto head, took the lead.

“Oohgie, you can’t enter the forges. They’re only for Moradin’s craftsmen.”

“What mean?”

“Only Dwarves are allowed in.”

Oohgie seemed a little confused, before whimpering like a hurt animal. We decided to drag him back to a tent outside town and let him calm down there, but not before he made a decision looking at those forges.

“Oohgie will become Dwarf.”

The next few sessions were filled with a mix of heartache and heartwarming. Oohgie tried extra hard to make better armor, and Raj now found a full time hobby teaching Oohgie to read Dwarvish script. Every now and again, Oohgie’s efforts paid off, and his armor would be as good if not slightly above what we were wearing, but it still was terribly built and barely held together. Just a result of something so big not having the dexterity to make the fine tuning of professionally crafted armor. Every now and then, Oohgie would ask the group, specifically Raj, how he was doing.

“Oohgie Dwarf now?”

“Not yet, I don’t think. Maybe if you try harder.”

“Oohgie can do.”

Oohgie seemed to become more determined every day, clanging away at his magic forge, combining what little scrap we found for him to throw together. He also began asking Lucas for help with contacting Moradin to become a Dwarf. We tried doing what we could in our spare time, but we also had to focus on the BBEG of the setting, since we didn’t want to derail the whole thing for our DM who had been a pretty chill dude up to this point about the whole thing.

We told Oohgie that we had to fight a big bad guy, and that we needed to focus on saving the world. Oohgie seemed to understand, and asked for a little bit of metal, promising to stop asking if we got it for him. We relented, and turned over the last pieces of metal for him in exchange for him helping us on the quests. The DM told us that Oohgie isn’t designed for the combat levels we were at by this point, but he could help a little if we were careful. Worst case scenario, we pull him back, Lucas performs Lay On Hands, and we’re good.

We slowly uncovered a conspiracy that ties to an ancient forgotten god, one who was worshiped as the god of destruction and undoing. Pretty sweet stuff as we kept getting closer and closer. The armor from Oohgie stopped showing up, but it was okay, we found cheap armor. We made an effort to save the pieces that Oohgie had crafted for us, out of loyalty to our curious, big Crafty-Smith friend. Oohgie never seemed to ask for metal anymore, but we heard him clanging away every night before we would fall asleep.

The lessons continued, with Raj teaching Oohgie more and more about Moradin, but he couldn’t answer the most spiritual of them, only being a warrior who happened to be a Dwarf. For the questions about the gods methods, Lucas was there to answer his questions.

“How Oohgie talk to Moradin?”

“You pray, and ask for guidance.”

“Moradin show Oohgie how make better armor?”

“If he sees fit to, he shall guide you.”

“How Oohgie know?”

“You won’t, but you have to believe.”

“Oohgie believe.”

After awhile, Oohgie began splitting the time between speaking with Lucas about Moradin, which he thought was the quickest way to becoming a Dwarf, and practicing his rudimentary Dwarvish, which he used to read his first book. He faded more and more into our groups 'project’, a background character. We still cared for him, but we just couldn’t afford to baby-sit him as we leveled up. He also insisted on having Lucas ask Moradin if he was a Dwarf yet.

“Moradin make Oohgie Dwarf now?”

“That is not my place to tell, Oohgie.”

“Oohgie pray but Moradin not talking. Did Oohgie do it wrong?”

“It is not my place to tell, but I believe the gods work in mysterious ways.”

“Oohgie understand. Make better armor soon for friends.”

As we cleared out more and more dungeons, we started to realize that we had made a mistake dragging Oohgie along. He just couldn’t keep up to our leveling, and he couldn’t get any useful perks. He started to become a hassle. By the time we were at the final stretch of the quest, facing the ancient cult summoning the god, we had a silent agreement to leave Oohgie behind, lest he get hurt.

We executed the play perfectly. The last town before the invasion, we told Oohgie to stay with the magic forge and practice alone for a few days, and that we were going to get him more metal to work with. Oh course the big lug agreed, and after casting a spell to keep the fires going for a week, we set out, Oohgie clanging away happily. We didn’t look back. But you can be damned sure we didn’t leave with a smile.

Two hours into the dungeon, and we knew we had messed up.

First off, we failed one too many sneaks and bluffs, and that meant the cultists had finished their mission in summoning the god of undoing. He was essentially an Orcus without the secrecy. Pragmatic as hell, he immediately begins to cast a bunch of seals and spells that trap us in the room, and then debuffs our armor to the point it’s unraveling back into scrap.

Our Warlock was protecting our Wizard with a low level demon, our Rogue was stealthily trying to pickpocket the dead cultists for anything that might help, Raj and Lucas led the attack, and I was firing a volley every chance I got, rolling for anything that might break his ungodly armor. We were using everything, and had run out of potions. Lucas had no more Lay On Hands available thanks to a dozen cultists cutting off his prayers to Bahamut. It was only now that we regretted not having a cleric.

The god approached Lucas and Raj, and without a hint of a monologue, proceeds to wreck their shit. He breaks Raj’s armor, shatters the divine shield Lucas was using, and then readies his next round of spells.

And then, the DM rolled for initiative..

From behind me, a large metal sphere flew out and thumped the god. Not enough to hurt him, but it was a high enough roll to disrupt his spell.

“Oohgie done crafting.”

From behind us, standing in the large doorway, stood an Ogre, clad in a terribly mismatched set of armor emblazoned with a hammer of Moradin on it’s chest piece. In his right hand, an enormous hammer the size of a stone column and made of the same dented metal. Suddenly, all the nights of clanging made sense. Oohgie wanted to help, and we just thought he was a burden.

Oohgie charged forward, rolling a 17 on his first roll, and with the god suffering from 'stupefication’ because of his entrance, landed his first hit. It was the most damaging hit we had done to the god, and it had been dealt by an Ogre that was wearing what looked like the rejected arts and crafts project of a preschooler.

We sat there for a moment in stunned silence, as the DM described the armor and hammer he carried, calling it a crude mimicry of the holy hammers and suits of armor worn by paladins of Moradin.

“You no hurt-”

Clang

“Ohgie’s friends!”

Clang

“No more!”

Clang

hree hits, each one doing a little less than the last, but still doing something. During this affair, the Rogue finally hit a natural 20, and found the cultist leaders emergency reagents to shut the whole spell down on his corpse. She rolled for the toss to Lucas, who had enough armor to take another hit if he needed to get close. Oohgie roared and attempted a grapple, using his natural modifiers to hold him, a god of destruction, for a brief moment.

“Oohgie palydin now, too! Help Moradin, help Lucas! Like real Dwarf!”

We felt a pang of guilt .

We had left this guy behind so he couldn’t bother us with his quest to becoming a Dwarf, but here he was, wearing that stupid smile, wearing that stupid armor, and pulling that stupid move. Lucas sighed heavily and we all rolled for our respective abilities. There was a brief moment where we thought that we had this thing down, until Lucas and our Warlock stopped and realized the flaw in the plan.

“Oohgie still isn’t high level.”

With that, our turn ended, and the DM rolled for the god’s attack versus Ooghies grapple.

I wish I could say Ooghie had a natural 20. I wish I could say that his modifier gave him just enough to hold the god down. But I can’t.

The god rolled 14

Ooghie rolled 5

The DM then informed us that not only did the god break the grapple, but now had stunned Ooghie long enough to cast a spell of 'Destruction’.

Point blank at Ooghie’s chest.

As I said before, very rarely did Oohgie craft armor that matched the level stats of armor we bought in town.

He was wearing armor that was almost 2 levels below his current level. And his current level was lower than any of us.

Oohgie collapsed in a heap, and the god turned to face us.

For those that don’t know, our Warlock was once That Guy. He had a major falling out with the DM and Lucas, and reformed himself. He never got along with Lucas, but he was willing to not be a jerk as long as Lucas didn’t call him out on stuff again.

This was the only time I saw our Warlock look across the table and ask Lucas for help.

“I need a favor. And I need it now.”

Lucas moved to cover the Warlock, who charged forward with a series of demons in tow. Our Warlock may have been a jerk a tad, but he was a jerk with a good amount of demons on call for favors.

He called every single one of them in.

The DM, knowing what this meant to us, didn’t bother to ask for our rolls. Every demon snuck in a hit, and with a Dwarf at his heels, a Wizard freezing his balls, and a ranger firing arrows into every square inch of flesh exposed on his hide, it was no wonder the god never saw our rogue behind him with the sealing amulet and scroll of desolation from the cultist leader.

Before the god even returned to the astral plane, we rushed to Oohgie, who was managing to hang on by the merest thread of life possible. Lay on Hands was next to useless, and with no potions, we all knew what we were watching. We were watching Ooghie die, and even after we had killed a god, conquered dungeons, and leveled evil kingdoms, we couldn’t even save our friend.

“Oohgie sorry he got in way.”

“You didn’t, you did great-”

“Oohgie sorry he not make good armor like Dwarf.”

“We love your armor, big guy, don’t think like that.”

I had never seen Lucas try so hard to call in a favor from Bahamut, or roll so desperately for a miracle. Even the Warlock was searching his sheets for a demon who might help without too hefty a price, no no avail.

Oohgie know why Moradin no talk to Oohgie. Oohgie hands too big n’ clumsy, so Oohgie not make small armor nice and pretty.”

“It’s fine Oohgie, just hang on, we’re going to save you.”

“Oohgie knew he not good Crafty-smith when he saw Dwarf temple, and Crafty-smiths look at him funny, but Oohgie try anyways.”

I’m a touchy-feely guy, and I know Oohgie was a figment of our imagination, but when you see Lucas, a veteran who lost his left leg to a bomb before he was twenty five, holding back tears, you know it wasn’t just me being blubbery when I say that we were tearing up.

“Oohgie not good Crafty-smith with armor and weapons, but Oohgie good crafty-smith at something. Oohgie can make good story.”

At this point, our Rogue hid behind her screen, and the Warlock just stared down at his sheet, having stopped searching for his demon to deal with.

“Oohgie think Dwarves make good armor and stories, which why Oohgie wanted be Dwarf, but Oohgie understand he not Dwarf, and he not be Dwarf ever.”

Oohgie’s breathing began to slow, and Raj grabbed his hand, holding it as best he could

“You could be a Dwarf, Oohgie. You could be the best Ogre Dwarf in the land.”

Oohgie closed his eyes and smiled

“Oohgie like that. He go sleep now.”

And like that, our party lost Oohgie the Crafty-smith, and we all think a little something died with him inside all of us.

We looted the dungeon, killed the remaining cultists, and made our way back to the nearest village, one that happened to have a temple and forge for followers of Moradin. When we entered the town, we all took notice that the forges were louder than ever, and half the town seemed to be gathered around the temple. Naturally curious, we moved closer.

At first, we were rolling to push through, until Lucas used a favor from Bahamut to project a holy shout and clear the path. We got closer and closer to the entrance, we saw more and more Dwarves, some wearing the emblem of Moradin, others in the attire of his sacred blacksmiths. As we reached the entrance, knowing we weren’t allowed in, we asked a priest if he could tell us what the fuss was. The priest asked us if we had been involved with the destruction of a god of undoing.

Of course we were, so he led us inside. Deep inside the mountain, past the pillars, and past the gorgeously carved hallways and stone arches, and into the deepest parts of the forge’s sanctums. We witnessed dozens of Dwarves mill around, throwing around orders and commands in ancient Dwarvish. The priest pointed to what had been causing the ruckus.

“We received divine word that Moradin the Creator has ordered a statue to be erected to honor the fall of the god.”

The Dwarves tugged out a large, metal and marble stature from a crafting vault.

“And the appointment of a new Apprentice to his mighty forges in the halls of his domain.”

There, crafted by the finest Dwarven artisans, was an enormous, thirty foot tall statue of Oohgie, complete with a golden hammer, a silver book of Dwarven crafting, and a beard befitting a Dwarf.

'Oohgie Good-Crafter, Honorary Dwarf of Moradin and Crafty-smith of the Forge.’

That was the first time I cried playing D&D.

After a year of sessions in D&D, I elected to have my hero, the Half-Elven Ranger, retire into God-hood as a Deity of Honorable Hunting. Upon ascension, I asked for a favor. As great as my weapons were in the mortal realms, the fact was that I needed something more suited for godly duties, so they needed to be reworked. And I knew exactly who I wanted to remake them.

Moradin welcomed me into his forges, obviously happy to have his apprentices practice with their skills in crafting weapons fit for gods. When I asked if it would be possible to have someone specific work on it, he knew exactly who I wanted, and led me to a grand hall where dozens of Dwarves were gathered around a large figure clanging away happily at an anvil.

There, wearing his iconic slap-dash armor over an enormously enlarged Dwarf robe, was Oohgie, wearing the biggest, dumbest smile you could ever imagine. He looked up, smiled, and picked me up, laughing and hugging as I tried not to cry. When he finally put me down, I showed him what I had wanted to show him ever since he left our group. I held up my hands, and showed him what I was wearing for celestial armor.

There, on my hands, were 'Oohgie’s Wristy Gerd Gloves’, battered from years of use and adventures, and raised to the level of a god’s armor.

And that is the story of Oohgie the Honorary Dwarf, and Crafty-smith of the Forge.