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godspeedwarrior · 1 year ago

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Recently I happened upon the mother of an old friend while wandering the halls of a recent con. We exchanged pleasantries despite our probably having met only once prior many years ago. We'll call her Margo.

Taking a break from my wanderlust, Margo decided to join me to lounge by the convention center's large bay windows. A lovely view I don't assume many con-goers care to take a step away from panels or the dealers room to enjoy. It would no doubt be a beloved spot for cosplay photos, but much of that experience was behind me at this point in my life. It was almost eery in how quiet the area was compared to the rest of the expo center

I suppose that's what truly got the conversation going. To break the awkward silence, I asked how things were going with her and her daughter(we'll go with Kat), since Kat was how we met.

With almost a sneer, Margo remarked how she wished she had any idea. First she dropped out of college, moved in with friends Margo didn't feel good about, and changed from this eccentric extroverted person onto a recluse that shunned the world. It actually struck me how long it had been as Margo began to unravel her tale of woe over Kat's life.

I had assumed in that time Kat would have Margo reminisce about how proud Kat was coming along. Before the major blow out in our cosplay group, Kat was honestly the most talented out of everyone. I'd dare even say the most strong willed too.

With our mutual friend being her daughter, I can understand how the dynamic of our two relationships would differ too. Where I had seen Kat as a peer with great talent and promise, Margo watched as she basically threw all that potential away for nothing.

I didn't feel quite the same negative connotation about dropping out. But with more insight, I could understand Margo's frustration. For me, I went to college because my mom asked me to. I didn't have any plans with my life because anything I actually wanted to do as a child was labeled a fantasy. Frankly, I hated school and was happier with my life in the job field getting a feel for what I liked doing.

But Kat had been working on becoming an artist all her life. And not like a painter, but a special FX artist. Someone who makes props or designs for movies. She had scholarships she worked for, schools picked out, and probably more planned for her future.

But something changed. And part of me was concerned it started with the end of the cosplay group.

See, back when we hung out, Kat's only boyfriend cheated on her with a girl from our cosplay group, got caught, broke it off, and was now married to the other woman who was the vice president of that group. I had been kind of on the outset of the group at the time because I only found out what happened because by chance I walked into the same restaurant Kat and the cheater's sister discussing the drama at!

But at the time, Kat seemed to be taking the whole thing well. Even had the sister on her side. So I just assumed she was going to start over in college and come out on top.

But here we were talking like Kat had given up. She didn't talk to any of her old friends. Her and her best friend of 18 years had a major falling out. It was like her life suddenly spiraled out of control, and Margo felt totally helpless on what to do.

Margo tells me, Kat used to talk about becoming successful, finding a man and settling down to have a family. But anymore, she talks about love as poison, children as a bane of her existence, and that she dying alone is the best she can do for anyone.

To lighten the mood I changed topics. Told her about how I met my wife, the fire in our apartment building that displaced us for 6 months, how I now had two beautiful children; and was blessed with grandparents willing to take them off my hands for a weekend. And lamented how crazy it was how things could change so drastically in 5 years.

She laughed and asked to see photos. Proudly telling me that she could see how good of a father I was becoming. Tried to share some wisdom about parenting, and hoped my kids didn't run into Kat's problem.

And all I could think to say was, that she needs time. I wasn't ready to have children until this point in my life. I needed my years of suffering and exploration. I don't look back fondly on my time in depression, but it's an experience I can relate to now.

She then asked me something I didn't expect.

According to Kat's stories about me, I had a habit of just wandering about cons and never really interacting with much that was going on at them. Which part of that was true, but I imparted onto her why I liked to wander.

Over the years, cons have kind of lost their luster. Back in the 2000's some cons were a wild west of nerd culture and media. Back then we were all a bunch of weebs imposing on the classical nerds. Full of excitement about our first dealers room. Going to a big city for the first time. Getting lost on the way there, and being in awe of the venue. The age of the yaoi paddle has come and gone. Anime is main stream. The internet's meme culture has peaked. And the cliques have taken over.

If anything, I wander the halls of each venue to explore. And sadly, I think the thing I'm looking for is my old enthusiasm for cons.

I relate back to when Kat and I first met. She was dressed as Ciel Phantomhive and her best friend was dressed as Mad Mod. It was my first time at our local game expo and I had just gotten together the best version of Link my new to sewing hands had managed to piece together. They had a costume contest and I was just excited to be apart of the experience. Right after judging, the main floor was turned into the dance floor and we danced well into the night. I wished nights like that didn't have to end, but I was also exhausted afterwards, so I can only say that in hindsight.

I remembered Kat so fondly that when I ran into her and her friend at the Japanese festival, I recognized her immediately. This was when I had met the cheater and her sister too, and the four of them formed the cosplay group.

It felt so strange to be apart of something that I was there for, but not really be involved with how it worked. Basically, anytime a con came up, I was there for the ride. Ironically, when I think back, I probably was just invited because I was the only one who could drive the cheater's parent's massive SUV.

But that was such an early time in our friendship.

Then Margo threw me for another loop. She asked if I felt Kat would have made a good mother. It took me a moment to realize that maybe Margo was asking if she had been a good mother.

It was a tricky question, especially considering my own background. The long and short of it was,"I don't know." My parents divorced when I was four. It wasn't until recently that I even knew what a good relationship was, and even now still have to work on it because of my own bias. Kat being a mother should be her decision.

I waited to have kids until now because I felt I needed to live my life without any major responsibilities to bind down my decisions. After a year of working in martial arts, and having a greater understanding of children, I truly felt I was ready to have my own. From what I'm hearing about Kat, she's still got a lot to figure out.

"Ahh, sometimes I wish you two had gotten together." Margo said with smirk.

This wasn't something I wanted to hear.

"What makes you say that?" I say with dread in my heart.

I had never been forth coming with anyone about my feelings towards Kat. I may have felt she was probably the most beautiful women I had ever seen upon first meeting, but I didn't have the guts to admit that then. I wanted to get to know her first, be a friend that liked something more than a pretty face. In hindsight, I may have been unwittingly open about my feelings. But Kat never showed interest back, so I simply thought she didn't feel the same.

Margo gave me almost a disappointed look, "Well, she did talk about a lot about you." My heart sank. "Then when I finally got to meet you, you seemed much more compatible than that Jeremy guy she was with at the time." Considering he cheated, that's an understatement.

"I guess, I just see your happiness and wish it was my own. You've grown into such wonderful man, it's practically a shame to see what she's missed out on."

I have to stop her there.

I'm no psych major, but that whole thing was really fucked up to me. Envy aside, Kat and I are not the same people we were 5 years ago. We'll never know what our compatibility is because we never gave it a shot. And frankly, I'm the man I am today because of my wife. I tried to play it cool, but that really was a dickish thing to say.

I know she meant well, but Kat's life isn't over just because she's in a rough spot in life. And her life wouldn't magically be better if we had gotten together back then.

I tell Margo that you can't live life on "what-ifs" and wishful thinking. It's disrespectful to the present where you can actually change things. Then I reassure her that she just needs to be there for Kat and help how she can. If she's really in a dark place, then it's emotional support that she needs more than anything. That's what I needed in my years of depression.

Put simply, a person won't fix what isn't broken. Until they see the problem themselves nothing is "broken" about them. I wish it was as simple as pointing it out, but no one likes anything being inherently wrong with them either.

We said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. I eventually shook it off, but the shock of it all still remains. I know I said it on the spot, but I think I needed to hear it as much as Margo did.

Stick to the present, it's the only place you can change anything.

#storytime

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godspeedwarrior · 2 years ago

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Story time!

Hello, I'm a bad Dm. I'm not bad in a sense that I can't run a game or prepare good encounters. I'm bad in the sense that I don't deal well with obnoxious players.

Got a 5th level Rogue player that likes to think of himself as a "Dm breaker." Has a few of the hallmarks you'd see in a new player despite having years of play under his belt; convinced that he's allowed meta knowledge without making it an integral part of his backstory and gets pissed when he has to roll, makes up reasons everytime he rolls for a lower DC, has straight up pulled game to a stop because I modified the monsters and "that's not the stat block, how does this creature have so much HP/AC?!"

I'd say he breaks character too if he had one. Wouldn't really be a complaint if he would just remain immersed in game, frankly.

So he comes to me one session with instructions on how to make a bomb out of materials found in Nature. Is convinced his urban born Rogue would have this knowledge because of, "this book he found once," and thinks he's skilled enough to pull it off. Not his character, him personally.

Starts eating up major game time by constantly rolling search for materials. Eventually has to be shut down by myself or his wife because people are trying to roleplay. Does this every game.

Finally get so sick of shit I snap one day.

First, context. Wife is an excellent player who's incredibly wrapped up in the main storyline, bringing real grounding to social events and even managing to get Rogue to be a functional roleplayer now and again.

Out right killing Rogue with rocks falling out of nowhere isn't an option. Guy needs to be curbed, but in a way that won't cause him to rage quit and lose one of our pillars of RP at the table.

So I give it to him.

Rogue starts usual BS the moment party touches grass outside town. Distance out material acquisitions over at least 2 hours of play. Each time, I ask him to roll percentiles while pretending to write down the numbers.

Eventually he has enough to make at least 3 dirty bombs and tries to put the entire game on hold so he can craft. Wife compromises by convincing the party to take a short rest that's going to go on for more than an hour.

This is where I start laying my defense.

I describe him laying out the materials. Indicate that since these were foraged imperfections will have to be accounted for, citing his presentile rolls earlier.

Ask him a question I already know the answer to.

"Do you have Tinker Tools?"

No.

"Yeah, I stole a set off a guy earlier."

Considering he's digging his grave, might as well let him have the shovel.

"Do you know how to use them?"

"Uhhh, no. I don't."

Actual honesty. That was a surprise.

"-But I'll ask the Gnome to help."

Gnome has to be reminded of his racial feature, but he somewhat agrees to it.

Play it easy and make the DC over 10, but roll my own percentiles on the side to fain that these bombs had a chance not to be set to detonate the moment you light them.

Figured being a rogue, he was going to pass his rolls anyway, so I planted the thought that there was something wrong with them by having him put question marks next to the item listing.

He tries to debate me over my influence, "I know exactly how these bombs are put together, there shouldn't be any chances they're duds or spontaneously go off. That's not how it works, you know."

I shrugged. "That's if you get your materials processed, I believe."

Rogue just glares at me from across the table.

Rogue rolls for his final bomb and drops a 2.

RNGesus has graced me with the killing blow.

Now there's no such thing as a crit fail on skill checks in 5e unless you establish it pregame. However, I had been hinting this whole time that this crafting process was incredibly dangerous. That anything small could set the bombs off. Rogue was adamant he should be able to take 10's, but after his blunder of admitting to not have proficiency with Tinker Tools, I forced him to roll in hopes of just this moment.

I announce to everyone at the table what I'm pretty sure they already knew, "So, I've been rolling for stability. Which hasn't been great on my end, but since he's been passing they were at least sustainable. I'm about to roll for the last bomb that he just botched. Prepare to roll dex saves people!"

Everyone starts reestablishing their distance from Rogue or that they're really sitting being half cover. Our Barbarian just nodded.

Actually rolled a 23.

Oh no. I've created a monster.

Explain that one bomb goes off sets off the other unstable bombs.

Rogue tries to salvage things by crying out he uses his reaction to throw the bombs last second.

Tell him his roll is too low for his character to have any insight on the tragedy unfolding before him. The reaction is too sudden that his character wouldn't even know that the bomb had gone off.

Especially since it was entirely beyond his control at that point, but I wasn't about to say that.

Everyone who rolls manages to make their saves, but sadly, the damage was equal to 3 fireballs going off all at the same time so half of the party is now dead.

Rogue tries to half damage again with Uncanny Dodge as a last ditch effort.

"That's what Evasion is for," I sigh.

Rogue tries to shift blame to me as the table starts to light heartedly give him shit.

"Wouldn't have done any of this had you just bought the materials." I shrugged. "You wanted to make dirty bombs. That's just what happens sometimes."

Can't contain laughter, start cackling like a mad man.

Rogue doesn't show up for two sessions after that.

#dnd story #dungeons and dragons #fantasy #dnd stories #5e dnd

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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This story comes from a game of Vampires of the Masquerade.

I'm a fresh new storyteller for VtM. Have a few DnD campaigns under belt, figure what's the difference running my own game of VtM? Already played one campaign. Rules are pretty easy to grasp as a D10 system.

Have a new group of players who are all DnD vets looking for some spice to their roleplay lives. Sit down with each player individually to sort out details and a quick session zero. Intermix players in each storyline to establish familiarity for when main story starts.

Enter the Gangrel. Her name is Merik. Wants to be an Egyptian native from the 60-70's era. Likes fish out of water idea where she wakes up in modern day. Likes druid, so picked Clan primarily due to animalistic play style.

Wants an animal companion. Has enough dots in Animalism to at least summon a desired beast. Ask her what she wants, what's the story there? Receive a solid tale about finding a snowy owls nest in her travels. Little guy is sole survivor of an attack by a hawk or something. Decides in moment of humanity to raise him.

Has highest Humanity in group, seems fair.

Figured after building a relationship with the little guy I could fridge the bastard for some sweet character development. Love abusing major attachments in World of Darkness.

Dream of, "You come back to your haven to find your bird sliced to ribbions on the floor. There's a note written in his blood that you're next!" Can't have shit in Detroit. Roll your humanity.

Run simple interaction, don't put too much thought into his character, be a little shit for five minutes because bird logic. Doesn't give a fuck about rules or society. She instantly falls in love with him. Names him Hi-Jinx due to shenanigans.

Begin to establish time-skip. Decide good antagonist would be Followers of Set since we're in the dunes outside Cairo. Come up with motives later.

Merik's clan is ambushed before dawn. She takes a few shots in the back, falls into the sands and is swept away. Wasn't ashed, sleeps in torpor (aka Vampire coma).

Awakens in tomb. Modern day. Blood everywhere. Realizes she's holding an arm that was clearly being used to beat some poor excavator.

Jinx pops out of hiding.

Explains she's been sleeping for many moons and that he got lucky when the humans digging in this location. Hints that he may be why she was awoken. She doesn't catch on.

Brushing off the frenzied slaughter, Merik casually chucks the arm randomly.

Fuck it. Roll situation to see what becomes of random arm. RNGesus has deemed this session zero shall be a thing of legend and curses my entire roll.

Talking not a die above 3.

Situation immediately goes to shit. Equipment begins to explode or catch fire due to overload. Police sirens can be heard swarming in from the distance because one survivor managed to phone the police. The tomb begins to collapse due to the shock from the explosions. The sands begin to reclaim the tomb.

Needless the say, Merik immediately fucks off in a hurry.

About this time my other players began to ask questions. If Jinx was born in the early 70's was it really possible for him to be alive in the modern day?

Suddenly realize I have no idea how long birds actually live for. Tell everyone to take a smoke break so I can google some things.

Begin to sweat when Snowy Owls generally live 10 years.

Quietly panic when I find that vampire blood burns out of a creatures within a month, meaning no extension of life or loyalty.

Hold my breathe as I realize I'm in too deep with this character to retcon anything.

New plan: Roll with whatever comes to mind.

Come back to group and tell them not to worry about anything until their characters are able to ask these questions themselves. Buy at least 3 sessions by playing to the Party's attention deficit.

Begin session 1.

Party is Motley Crew. Starts trouble everywhere they go. Breaks shit without hesitation. Go full Scorched Earth at first sign of trouble.

Being independent they have no idea what a "masquerade" is since I forgot to make it an important part of their backstories. Ends up fighting other clans that are simply trying to keep the peace.

Enter the Bird Boi.

In a moment of genius, decide Jinx is a super natural being. Solves the age problem and gives the party someone who will give them a fighting chance to learn how to be creatures of the night socially.

He begins to display powers that grant quick fixes to the crew's more minor screw ups. Watched enough Fullmetal Alchemist to bullshit most fixes via transmutation.

Isn't an entirely reliable solution to most problems.

Is still dumbass bird weilding god-like powers. Isn't exactly reliable in general and only ever acts when situation is dire.

Fixes only lasts long enough to ensure masquerade is held.

Keeps Jinx from being fix-all.

Somehow promotes more critical thinking. Party starts to consider beforehand if Jinx has the ability to fix their given situation, or even the willingness to. Being dumbass bird, he'll sometimes accidentally monkey paw a request due to misunderstanding the context and finding what he's willing to bargain with can be more work for the players than just fixing the problem themselves.

Sessions start go by so well that I forget to mention if he's even there.

Party takes note of my fuck up.

Next session begins with Crew meeting at Tzimisce's Haven for the evening. Conversation works towards questioning Merik about Jinx's whereabouts lately.

Player fimbles roleplay ball and states she has no idea. Hasn't seen him.

Literally drops it on everyone, myself included, that she's not his keeper. Didn't sign up for this shit. Considers him more of a childhood friend since she took care of him as a hatchling. Realize I could have dropped him at any point and it wouldn't have bothered her.

Get dumbass idea.

A grimy naked homeless man suddenly slinks into meeting room. Starts talking to everyone like an old friend, makes himself obnoxiously comfortable despite sending everyone into immediate high alert.

Tzimisce of the group begins to have a fucking aneurysm. Demands to know how some rando just made his way to his guarded Haven without triggering the pamphlet full of safeguards and heavy security.

Ask him if he says any of it in character.

He pauses for a moment, confirms he does.

Decide to bullshit power the situation.

Guy explains he just walked through.

Tzimis doesn't buy it. Lists off death traps, guards and other shit. Pulls out pamphlet with building design, reference notes, and illustrations. Thrusting it in my face that it's vampire proof.

Guy sticks to story, unphased

Tizmis pulls gun on him.

Surprised he didn't start with that.

Guy proves claim by phases his hand through the table. (No he's not a Phantom. You're welcome for getting that stuck in your head.)

Whole group is taken a back.

Guy wonders why everyone is so hostile towards him. Begins to try and peck at his chest to itch it. Fails to do so. Curses his lack of neck.

Party takes a smoke break so they can continue to deal with my bullshit.

Party concludes that Bird is now Boy.

To quote, "One Bird Boi bath later," Jinx explains how he came to be this way, all the while fighting off every attempt to make him wear pants. (He's usually a naked bird, felt like being an asshole)

While flying around one night he noticed a suspicious group of people with Snake tattoos hiding out around Merik's place. When he got closer he could hear that they were planning, to bag Merik. Protective instincts take hold, he swoops in and starters pecking at eyes and clawing the assailants. Going as far to actually pull one of their eye's out.

After the scuffle, Jinx remarks that he began to feel strange. Finds somewhere safe to lay low and recover for a while. After some strange dreams he woke up in a human body with no idea how to change back. Only managed to find Crew due to a new found sense of direction.

They manage to get him to compromise on wearing kilts. Seemed fitting.

Following week, am listening to YouTube, just letting random go, hear about Owl of Athena. Start to wonder if there's more Mushu/Mulan set ups in history I can abuse for story.

Only find Johan of Arc. It's suggested to be same owl as Athena. Roman Catholic, go figure.

Get invested in the idea of Jinx being this mascot for godly avatars.

Begin search in Egyptian gods to match Merik's theme.

Find Horace. Find that despite Horace being most commonly depicted as a Hawk- commoner shrines could depict him as just about any bird. He and Set are enemies.

Start to shit pants at the perfection.

Horace is missing an eye with his power in it and needs to collect shards to reclaim his power.

Can't fucking believe the coincidence that Jinx just ripped some Set follower's eye out and suddenly gained more power.

Start moving Followers of Set in full force. Every little underhanded thing that happens now leads back to the Followers. Start encountering raid boss-like "Amped Vamps" to match up with the Crew's perpetual murder practices that have reached such a level- nearly each of them is built to face down tanks in one way or another. Jinx starts developing new powers after each encounter. Begin to see the gears in motion as party starts to connect the dots.

Decide it's time to establish solid plot. Invade the Ventrue's Haven, catching most of the Motley Crew with their pants down as Brujah duo is not present. (The heavy hitters of the group)

Follower's of Set demand Merik be turned over to them in exchange for their unlives.

Ventrue displays he's read the easy-read notes for "Art of the Deal."

Is built socially to argue with God on account of being business man and rest of party barely speaks above "Unga-bunga, Yabba dabba DESTROY."

His dice explode on 10's (counting the roll as a success and getting to roll that die again at chance for another success).

Burns all the luck of the Irish, and maybe some Scottish.

Dice don't quit exploding like a Mexican fireworks truck on the 4th of July.

Eventually have to ask him to stop rolling.

Ventrue basically has free reign to talk shit without consequence for remainder of encounter.

Demands to know what's going on. Followers have direct orders from Set to collect Merik. Didn't say why. Didn't really care, they are commanded to do.

Admit Motley Crew's two Brujah have been the real problem up to this point. Sick of getting their teeth kicked in, things have come to diplomacy.

Ventrue tells them to pay in gold or piss off. He's got shit to do, the only time he makes for an ass kicking is when he makes a whole evening out of it.

Followers agree to price, but refuse to pay in advance.

Ventrue orders ghoul servant to piss on their shoes to make a point.

Follower takes ghoul's head over the insult.

Ventrue reveals he's been stalling for time. Lying to their faces that he's got a personal silent alarm for calling the Brujah and that they're bound to arrive any second. Out of respect for offering a business deal, permits them enough time to leave if they truly intend to pay for his services. However, wants to be clear that he's only doing this because he's not feeling very... murderous tonight. No, no, his special toolset has been very neglected lately, and he knows for a fact that the Tzimisce has been in need of a new plaything recently since he got bored with the last one and made it into a table.

Feeling good impressions have been made, Follower's politely leave.

They happen to catch sight of one of the Brujah walking up as they drove away just for a laugh.

The moment Merik and Jinx show up the Ventrue loses all composure. Starts waving his Desert Eagle around like a scene out of Boondock Saints. Demands to know what's going on between Merik and the "snake fuckers." Is done with band of discount Sytherin cosplayers taking the piss out of his evenings. Orders personally tailored suit made entirely out of snake skin. Designs perversed take on "Don't Tread On Me" icon depicting Follower's snake emblem getting curb stomped for the back of jacket.

"Stomp It Out" logo is born.

Merik genuinely has no idea what's going on. Honestly thinks the Followers of Set just hate Gangrels. Jinx hesitantly begins to explain.

Since they've been collecting his power back through encounters with Amped Vamps, Jinx has also been regaining some memories.

Begin to explain Hawkman levels of bullshit reincarnation. This not being the first time he's been her companion, or the first time she's been a vampire.

Due to reasons still outside his memory, Set has constantly tried to kill Merik before she can reach a godlike state. Keeping the two separated from their eternity together. Could lose Merik anytime as she is and he'll have to sacrifice what power he has just to bring her back. Is vicious cycle. No one questions if this is toxic as fuck or super romantic.

From here, the game started to die out due to work schedules conflicts and out-of-game drama. Merik's player just stopped coming to game although because one of the Brujah's started overseeing every little thing she did, being the most high chaos player and the highest priority target. Tried to sort things out so plot could continue as planned, but they fought out-of-game and from there it was completely out of my hands.

Was able to note a few instances that gave signs she was a jackle thanks to Protean; making her the female representation of Anubis. But we'll never know what this crazy storyline would have come to since Merik was out and it didn't make sense to carry on the plot without her.

That's the story of how not knowing enough about owls started a major plot point in my game.

#vtm #vtm rp #homebrew

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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I fond myself lately in a state of melancholy.

Like an animal trapped in a zoo.

In my time, I wonder and reflect on the life I've lived. The choices I've made, the friends I've let and lost, or the very lack of care towards the world I'm living in.

Since my youth I've always been posed the question, "What do you want to do with your life?" As if I had some grand understanding of the world and how it functioned. As a child, I didn't like brown potatoes. I didn't understand why, only that I preferred red potatoes, boiled and mashed. Now as a man, I recognize that there's very little different between the two, but in my naivete there was a clear and discernible difference that somehow made red potatoes better.

Potatoes are- well, small potatoes compared to deciding on a goal that you will pursue throughout your entire livelihood. It was like being asked to order at a restaurant you've never eaten at, and they don't have a menu. You don't know what's good or available to try.

I recall my sister changing her answer every other year. She wanted to be in a high well-respected position or something that paid incredibly well. In the end, she tried to go out for sports. Found she didn't dedicate her life to it early enough, fell back on medical training, and is now working a completely unrelated job with a useless degree.

I'd say, "Oh! How the mighty have fallen!" Yet it's the funniest damn thing. Our grandmother did almost the exact same path. She wanted to be a pro-athlete, found she couldn't fill the job, fell back on teaching, and found she was too old to be a gym coach.

History repeats itself, yet we disconnect from these life lessons out of a desire for independence.

I am left-handed. While it's truthfully nothing special, I put a great deal of stock in it over the simple fact that there were very few like me. I was an oddity and took comfort in that it make me special. But much like Rudolph, being special requires special circumstances to shine in. Imagine looking like your average guy, but you think yourself unique only because you prefer to write with the opposite hand. The fact that I feel alienated from fictional characters simply because we don't share common hand orientation is ridiculous. Yet it does.

It was a dark day for me when they made Link from the Legend of Zelda right handed. Nintendo was dead to me for making, what was to others, only a small change. Fellow lefties I've met in my time didn't care either. "It's only a game," they'd tell me, "So what?"

Despite the logical reasons I gave in those moments, the truth was: I related to Link. We share a resemblance, sure, but what's more is Link lived a life of adventure. He was a man of action, despite having little to say, he had much to do. I related to Link because of his diligence and desire to do good for all those he encountered. While I know now that he was written as nothing more than an empty vessel for the player to insert themselves into, I felt an unbelievable connection to the life he was leading.

Unlike most my age, the original NES Legend of Zelda was the first game I had ever really played. My father and his best friend bought it back in college. By the time I was old enough to play the Super Nintendo was out, yet I happily played away my days on that old NES. I had killed the original Zelda cartridge in a bathtub incident, leaving me with Zelda 2 as my only option if I was to keep playing in Hyrule. So naturally I played Duck Hunt instead.

That sense of adventure never left me. It wasn't long before I was all over the neighborhood and into yards and fenced areas that were off limits. Anything is permittable if you don't get caught. So I became skilled at being unseen. I didn't want any trouble, so it was best to simply pass through. Leave no marks, take not a thing. The world can be a very beautiful thing if you're just willing to look.

But just seeing places is basic tourism. Leaving no marks also removes any sense of accomplishment. What have I really done if there's no evidence? And even worse so, that's not a job one can make a living off of.

After deep thought, I concluded that what I needed was experience. Much like singling out brown potatoes, if I never tried them, how could I know that I didn't like them?

Sadly, such wisdom didn't come to me well after I had dropped out of college after a miserable year and a half. I've never liked school. Hell, my idea was to enter the work force after high school on the grounds that school work was bullshit. But my mother convinced me to try, and I still failed all my classes on account of throwing away my homework. Why the hell am I taking work home if I'm paying so much to learn in a class setting?

I was always told that my only job growing up was school work. Yet my parents never brought work home. Work was at the job, so how is it fair that I'm doing more work well after I've left what was supposed to be my job? I wasn't even getting paid for my work. So what was the point of earning some arbitrary letter for filling out redundant worksheets that I was already doing in class?

Was this what I should expect from life? Nonsense questions on standard printing paper with no imaginative design or real-life practicality to it? It blew my mind to find out I had been picking all of my classes in school, but because of how the question of phrased I took general electives just so people would leave me alone about it.

I felt like I was wasting my time because it was true. But I have to wonder, if I was to do it all again, what would I pick different? How could I have been more invested in my life when I wanted nothing to do with the society I was living in? The fact of the matter is that I wasn't living life. I have no idea, and even worse was finding that neither did my parents.

My entire upbringing weighed on the hands of two social outcasts with no idea how to raise children or interact with the very society they were living in. Considering the two were practically total opposites, it's no surprise that they got divorced when I turned 4. Mind you, I have an older sister. She is not mentally right. And I'm beginning to see where the problem stems from.

All my life I've been alienating myself from society because I've never experienced how to properly mingle or socialize. The first time my father ever rode a rollercoaster was when I was a sophomore in high school, and the best I could talk him into was a small carnival ride. He has the same friends group he had since high school. They talk about the same things, do the same stuff, and are generally unmoving.

Now, everyone has A.D.D. to some degree. Personally, I think it's the part of our brains that are constantly active, like motor functions. But it's better to argue that Attention Deficit is the part of our brains that need stimuli. Something that engages and motivates who we are as people. When you have a deficit, that length of interest is cut practically in half. If it doesn't get you thinking, you move on to the next activity. Considering the laws of diminishing return, doing the same thing everyday is fucking purgatory.

Long story short, my Dad is basic.

My mother on the other hand is a traumatized chaotic mess that's so self absorbed in her own personal hell that I'm begining to wonder if my habit of analyzing people stems from actively working over justifying her many inane choices over just the course of my lifetime. Fucking hell the run-on sentence that just happened.

My mother has never been boring. She's incredibly dramatic, quick to emotional response, and in most cases socially- has no idea what to do. I've never seen another human being so incompetent over every social situation. She claims that, "Her mind simply moves too quickly," but in reality, she only listens to respond. In her life time, my mother has developed the social behavior of a lawyer. Everything is a debate, every since is said in the interest of establishing her knowledge.

But she couldn't stop and tell you what the purpose of the conversation was for.

So here I am. Having spent my entire life on just trying to understand the people who raised me, that I can learn more about another person than I do myself.

I find people fascinating only in the sense of how much of a mess they are. But I'm now stuck with an answer that brings no solutions. After all, you cannot help those that do not seek help first.

I wish to understand me, but I lack experience and cannot see myself without a mirror. I desire to be understood, yet fear there is little to understand about me. Or worse, will be unaccepting of what I will be told.

I willingly isolate myself in crowds despite my desires to be included. I want to be the center of attention, but feel as though that's narcissistic and something I'm incapable of fulfilling. I seek to inspire and be inspired, yet by what I cannot say. To what interests me, I fear is limited.

I'm trapped in my mind with idea after idea. But to what end do I think of these things? My obsession with super powers began with the shows I watched on Saturday morning. My power fantasy to help people and do kind to the world through might quickly found it's wall.

Power Rangers were a beautiful combination of style and power. They were masterful in their execution and I was dazzled by their performance. When I was old enough to realize that it was nothing more than a show, I met my first round with denial.

Power Rangers was fake, but maybe I could make it real some day? Perhaps I was special enough that the universe would pick me to become the first real power ranger!

Life went on as normal. No monster attacks, no strange alien devices found their way into my possession, I didn't even have the decency to come visit from the future. Life was normal.

Years continued on, I wanted to do good, but it was only ever the small things. A kind word, leading a helping hand, it wasn't glorious or with flair. And I'm starting to wonder if I could have made it that way.

I wasn't ever socially normal, so who would have cared if I was that weird kid that made up his own catchphrase and tried to make doing the right thing fun and interesting?

But I don't know if I ever did anything, or if it was this morally ambiguous "right". I was a selfish kid who only ever focused on unrealistic things. If my friends had problems, I'd do my best to be there for them. However, I honestly can't say that I knew what was best for them. I remember being vented to along and giving what insight I could, a lot of the time it was just stupid stuff that needed to look at the bigger picture.

My mother tends to say, "you've always been good at looking at things from a different perspective. Seeing things from an unbiased view." But does that perspective have any real meaning coming from someone who's entirely self-focused? Every friend I had growing up I'm no longer in contact with. The longest I had interest in a group was 5 years. Sometimes I'd just stop coming around, other times it was a huge fall out.

Considering they were all socially outcast people, I'm not surprised that things are as they are. But that doesn't stop this deep gut desire to have a reliable friends group.

Which brings me to my next emotional conflict. I don't care. I find very little meaning in anything that I can't be an active member in. I've done a great deal of work to suppress the urge to speak during medium focused activities. Movies, panels, games, if there can be commentary, I instinctively have something to say. After all, my brain is constantly rolling over subjects, mulling things over, and forming conclusion based on what's present/relatable/funny.

I want to be understood, so it makes sense that I would want to be heard first. It makes me feel like I'm a part of things when I can input my insights. Be engaged in the situation. I'm sick of feeling like I can't interact in my own story for fear of stepping on toes or upsetting someone.

I mean, fuck those guys anyway. They're usually never brave enough to confront you over it in the first place. So why should I let such minor people be the major in my life?

Although, if I can't be considerate, how will I make friends? It's just one step forward, two steps back. Am I getting in my own way to find what I want? Do I fear making mistakes so much that I'd rather do nothing at all than take a chance?

Certainly. I'm reminded of my first real crush. I met her at the new church my Mother started going to freshman year. I was deeply depressed at this time, so many of my actions were dictated by fear of failure.

I can recall the first time we met. I had noticed her immediately when we first arrived. She was skinny as a rail with large dyed hair in an emo cut. Her bangs were blond, but the rest was dyed black.

Unsure of the new place, I took a seat in the lobby. That was when she approached me. She had sparkling blue eyes, a cute dimpled nose, and the most lovely lips I had ever seen. We exchanged names, and I foolishly told her my persona I had been indulging for sometime. Her name was Emma, and for no other reason than her beauty and her kindness, I secretly gave her my heart. She asked me to sit with her twice and in my naivete, I failed to see that perhaps she actually had interest in me. But since I feared failure, I barely spoke to her. And I think that gave her the wrong impression of my opinion of her.

2 years went by of this silent crush, she eventually left our church for another. By the time I had developed enough courage to talk to her, she would be in a relationship. Never having learned at that point that friendship was the true key to any relationship, I kept my distance. Waiting for my time to reach out to her. I was a fool for not learning that the right time was then and now.

I never got to truly know her. It's only in hindsight that I can truthfully admit my love for her was superficial. Only desiring the ideal of who I thought she was.

She's the only woman I ever purely desired. Even as a horned teenager, I kept the idea of her pure in my mind. I wanted to know her and hear her interests. I wanted to find her doing something she loved and join in to make fond memories together. But what I wanted was a specific situation that came into play instead of just taking the initiative and talking to her.

I have to believe that my fantasy ruined my chances in reality. If there was ever really a chance at all. Remember, I glorified this girl. I wasn't thinking of her as just another person with their own life and problems, she was a walking dream that came into my life and would make it better.

She could have seen me for the troubled teen I was and was only trying to help out of kindness. After all, she did approach me first many times just to lightly socialize. I'll never truly know what she thought of me. And all these years later of just dealing with the cringe of my own behavior, it's probably for the best that I never ask.

Every now and then I'll hear a bit of gossip from her family at the church. Bias opinions on her husband, her social views, how they're worried about her. But at the end of the day, it's not my problem. I'm not her hero. Hell, I was never actually her friend. Yeah, it reminds me of how cringy and narcissistic I was. But my best move forward is to let it be the past and work on my social skills without thinking beyond friendship.

Even though it's probably just my ideal version of her talking, I like to think she'd want that for me.

If the gossip about her is even slightly true, I wish the same benefit for her.

Geez, anyway, that's enough from me about the past. I know looking forward requires reflection, but I feel like I got a bit too personal there.

But at the same time, I did focus on the problematic foundation of my social skills. Followed by a time that such skills failed me at what felt like a crucial time in my life. I've done my best to be honest about the reality of the situation and even came to what I hope is a healthy conclusion to the experience going forward.

-H

#journal

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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Tsunade: Welp, looks like Naruto was caught trying to assassinate two political figures last week. Despite that being what we do as Ninja, this is now a huge political issue we have on our hands. Considering these were thought out assassination attempts, I believe we can all agree it wasn't Naruto.

Kakashi: ...No multi-shadow clones were used and the place wasn't completely destroyed via Rashingan. Have to say, that's not Naruto's M.O.

Tsunade: Shikamaru, what are your thoughts? There's demand we send him to Ninja Prison.

Shikamaru: Yeah, let's go with that.

Tsunade: Excuse me?!

Shikamaru: What? Are there any better options? This is obviously a set up to have him sent there anyway, might as well play along and let it sort itself out.

Tsunade: Play along?!

Kakashi: I think Shikamaru's right. Knowing Naruto, he'll make friends with a lost puppy or something that's linked to a deep dark conspiracy to overthrow the Ninja world. It's happened once before. Maybe twice...

Shikamaru: That's if he hasn't met the bad guy first and gotten royally pissed off at 'em.

Tsunade: -sigh- I guess you're both right. Bring him in! We'll take him into custody and have him sent on the next ship. Then when he does uncover something we'll show up last minute to pretend it was a mission all along!

Kakashi: Wait, we're not telling him it's a mission?

#naruto #my Naruto experience #this was literally the plot of a movie #dumbass ninja style

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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As a Dm, I like to suggest alternatives when it comes to mechanics. Take the Barbarian. The Barbar's main mechanic is Rage. However, your character doesn't HAVE to limit that mechanic as a reaction of anger. But one can flavor it however you want.

Personally? I like the panic attacker. You're not a fearless killing machine that dominates the battlefield. You're a screaming crying mess that's using everything at their disposal not to die, all the while questioning why you even do this stupid adventuring business.

Dnd permits a thousand ways to play, and sometimes all that means is making little roleplay changes.

#dnd #dnd character #fantasy #roleplay #dungeons and dragons

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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I just got dunked on in the best way possible.

It's the end of the campaign. Decided to run your basic necromancer plot and have the Party facing down the BBEG in the capital where it all started.

Party has been taking my Skeletor knockoff's BS for like 10 rounds. Most members have been downed at least twice in the encounter, but the Party came prepared and keeps everyone from the verge of death.

Necromancer has been eating hits and is finally hitting below that 100hp threshold. Fighter's sidekick, The Page, has spent the whole encounter observing the Necromancer from afar. I allow feats to be taught over an extensive length of time with successful rolls, the Battle Master decided his Page was going to be the gauge in fights.

Page gives the signal to our Bardic Sorcerer, who's been mocking the BBEG the whole encounter, to move into range. The Party had been planning something for the encounter for sometime, and I let them do it secretly just for fairness.

For a bit of drama, I gave the Necromancer one use of Power Word Kill and decided that the Bard was annoying enough to be the first death of the evening.

I began to monologue a eulogy and how the Necromancer was looking forward to having a new servant. Emphasizing that it was truly the end for the heckler. Naturally, the Bard scoffed that he would, "Make him eat those words."

I dropped Power Word Kill and so the Bard became lifelessly as he dropped to the floor. Everyone was stunned. Alakblam had just been put into play and there wasn't a member of the Party scrapping above 50 hp. Bard begins to laugh. Just drops to the floor cackling like a goblin in a horde of gold.

He reminds me that he's a Wild Magic Sorcerer. Wants a recap of what I rolled for him all the way back on round 2.

Just to summarize, did you know that Wild Magic Sorcerer's have the chance to get a free resurrection? It only lasts for a minute, but we had been screwing around that it was like 2 hours since I rolled that out of game.

The bastard just smirks at as his character comes back to life and drops this frickin line, "Looks like I get the last word." Then drops Power Word Kill himself.

#dnd story #dnd #dungeons and dragons

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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If you aren't making up naming conventions in Dnd that don't cause another player to instinctively hiss out a "fuck" from under their breath, are you really having fun as a DM?

#fantasy #dnd #dungeons and memes #dungeons and dragons #dnd jokes

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godspeedwarrior · 3 years ago

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Name: Julius Beldalor Race: Variant Human

Class: Eldritch Knight Background: Folk Hero

Story: Julius is the son of one Roderick Beldalor, human Wizard, and Norvahn Gūlgulch, Half-Orc Fighter. His parents, naturally, lived well as adventurers before ultimately deciding to settle down in a small village, having earned enough to live out their lives comfortably.

Having grown up with listening to their harrowing tales, Julius dreams of becoming a great noble warrior, spending much of his youth working towards that goal. Commiting his naivete to a lofty notion of noble behavior. Being naturally adept in magic like his father, and personally trained to handle a sword by his mother, Julius was fairly capable at handling a variety of jobs at a young age. Eventually becoming renown around his village for his valiant honor, and his unwavering gullibility.

Reaching adulthood, Julius desired to hone himself further and sought after an order of knights that would play to his strengths. The Order of the Burning Blade, a Noble faction of Eldritch Knights, was such an order. They were very selective of their trainees. Therefore they wouldn't elect a commoner without recommendation, a connection a old family friend just so happen to be willing to offer. Julius set out to join the Order without an inkling of failure.

The first notable thing Julius recognized upon arriving on the grounds of the Order's fort was the decorative garb adorned by all trainees. He was in awe of their stark- vibrant colors, setting them apart from even his own garb. Many glances were upon him as he approached the main building.

The interview was strict. Many commoners had applied with the Order before, however none were as highly recommended. After a lengthy discussion, Julius was presented with an offer. He would sign his life over to the Order in exchange for his training. Already bearing the two of the most important traits of an Eldritch knight, Julius moved rather quickly in his training, having the basics down within half the time of other trainees. Something that did not gain the respect of his peers.

Seeing as a commoner was capable of producing results that generations of Noble lineage could not, Julius soon came to be neglected in comparison to his fellow trainees. Who in contrast were being pushed harder than ever. To compensate for his aptitude, Julius was given more advanced practices to master. Yet sadly, Julius was not a genius. He had simply been practicing longer than the others and without any aid or guidance, his progress simply came to a halt.

The signature spell of the Order of the Burning Blade was none other than the Green-Flame Blade. It defined the very practice of an Eldritch Knight to the core. One could not be considered a Knight of the Order without mastery of it.

For 6 months Julius struggled to even preform the Evocation. He couldn't tell if his stance was improper, his pronunciation was off, or if he had simply failed to understand the spell at all. What was once his dream had become an unending nightmare.

It was with a heavy heart that Julius asked the Master to absolve his contract with the Order. Having fallen into despair, he felt he could no longer fulfill his duties to the Order. And this was exactly what they wanted.

In the fine print a break of contract brought "compensation" to the Order for resources spent in the process of training, leaving Julius with a King's ransom in debt.

Rumor had it that Julius' family struct it big while adventuring. In order to hide a dragon's hoard worth of wealth, they had settled down quietly to avert any attention to themselves. The Nobles of this Order decided to take a gamble. Form up a contract with promise of training then breech the contract to soak up whatever wealth his family could provide.

Ignorant of this and heavily honor bound, Julius took the debt upon himself. Knowing full well that his parents had no more than what they honestly needed. His morals had been betrayed by the very people he had based them on. They had ate away his optimism and crushed his long sought after dream. He was less of a man than he had ever been before he came. Now with a need to fulfill a financial obligation he feared he could not obtain.

But this was only the beginning as to why Julius Beldalor became an Adventurer.

#dnd character #character concept #dnd story

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