#she isnt rusty with it at ALL she can and will still kick your ass

[ask-vaal-hazak]

I just left a homebrew dnd campaign I've a message for new DM's

If your running a campaign for 2 ppl and there level 3 do not throw cr 6 and 9 monsters at them. For the love of the divine do not.

Extremely fustrating and deadly. And dont use the monsters from a homebrew forum bc it just sounds cool. Bc that "cool" cr 6 hag going against a lv3 party with multiple attack. Multiple spell cast and spell immunity and able to polymorph into any creature it wants at will is devastating.

Just to rant here. I lost 3 characters in 1 hour. My lv 3 barbarian (minotaur zelot). My battlemaster (centaur) and my wizard (yuan ti)

To be a dm ya have to balance and make sure every fight isnt designs to just upright kill ppl at the start bc. 5d12 worth of dmg with multiple attack on a hag or any creature. Is friggin broken.

There no way in hell a monster for a party of 2, level 3 adventures should hit for 5d12 (3 times) and be able to cast 2 spells (at will without using a spell slot) EVERY ROUND. And on top of that have a movement speed of 90 and an ac of 23. (I asked the dm to let me see what he was using and thers more. Swim of 30, fly of 300 ect this is pretty much a god with its stats but the cr says 6. It dosent even feel like a 6. More like a lv 20 broken sack of crap)

This is the reason there are tutorial guides in the book(s) and youtube to show you why you should look at cr then your players levels b4 u design an encounter.

I cant describe how fustrating it was to see my barbarian. Who I spent 5hours making just get tapped lightly and die. Bc 48 hp at lv 3 and taking well over 10 pts of dmg bc apparently she crit me on all attacks and only did like 1 attack to our female player (for 2 dmg with a level 6 scorching ray [its bs] ) was "Fair bc your a barbarian and should be able to tank this EASILY" (quote the dm.)

If there is a way to piss off players it's this and having a game were you get railroaded so hard it's a traveling trip with skill checks with a minimum of 18-20 to notice something like a bear on the road when the weather is CLEAR and everyone is PAYING THE HELL ATTENTION ON A BANDIT HIGHWAY. Not to mention the SCREAMS OF A CYCLOPS AS IT LITERALLY SMASHES INTO THE CARAVAN ACROSS A PLANE WITH A FEW TREES ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD.

Oh and let me not forget the NPCS WHO WANT TO SLEEP WITH EVERYONE BC THEY THINK THERE HOT AND DESERVE A NICE HOT MEAT ROD FOR THEIR SERVICES OF INTRODUCING THEMSELVES.

*Facepalm* my god....oh and if your thinking

"GEE-WILLY Mr. Person surely it couldnt be that bad?" This guys campaign was pretty much parappa the rapper, jojo bizarre adventures, bloodborne, Resident evil and memes.

I had a character who came in and apparently they caused the world to have wormholes? (Somehow) and referenced it everytime we played even when that character died. In session one. Bc apparently a company named (I kid you not) Shoe Rack was the equivalent of resident evil's umbrella cooperation. Complete with a drow leader and a litch bookkeeper who turned everyone into zombies to work for free while they apparently made diamonds to sell for millions of gold and keep the workers working g for 1 copper every month. Only giving gold to ppl that would sleep with them.

Not to mention apparently everyone in this world had magic resist or spell immunity to everyone except to females. And when I made a female char apparently that rule became I valid and it was just a straightforward

Me: does a 17 hit?

Dm: well it would but .... *they grin*

Me: but?

Dm: they use a special ring to catch the spell and cast meteor swarm on you point blank.

Me: well they get hit too I just stabbed them with a dagger.

Dm: no you see it's a SMALL METEOR THAT ONLY HITS THE PERSON THAT HIT THEM

Me: so they and my teammate. Who has literally been stabbing them are fine?"

Dm: yes

Me (takes like 589 pts of dmg and is ded)

Dm: the litch turns to you and asks if you want a cup of coffee.

Female player: umm sure?

Dm: whoo-yeah. Combat over you get 500 go and a date with the litch.

Me: I'm sorry what?

Female player: umm...ok. awsome.

Me: ......ok cool so I'll just bring in-

Dm: no that's cool the litch revives yorubas a female zombie slave.

Me: why?

Dm: and you need to have sex to keep yourself alive.

Me: yeah no. I'll just bring in my centaur battle master

1 hour later

Dm: you take umm..let's see *rolls dice.*

Me: (waiting)

Dm: *rolls a shit ton more dice*

Me: (waiting)

Dm: oh oh no *grins*

Me: (takes 40 dmg) I'm still up

Dm: how?

Me: I have 48 hp....I'm still up

Dm: ok it's your attack I guess.

Me: rolls a nat 1 "ok I guess I have disadvantage on my next att-"

Dm: rolls a d100 and a d10 (the percentile)

Me: what are you doing?

Dm: rolling for severity of your fail. Btw how much dmg does your lance do?

Me: it does 1d12 dmg and why are you using severity. That's not in 5e and you said we-

Dm: as you fail you accidentally stab yourself in the throat as your spear hits a rock and you take *rolls dice* 35 pts of dmg

Me: ok I'm out that's bs. Number one and two I have a lance and thers no way I can do 35 dmg. I get about 24 dmg on a crit and 28 if I use my racial feature to kick a person at max with a crit.

Dm: oh your just being salty, you dont play fair!

Me: excuse me?

Dm: ALL YOU DO IS PLAY SPELL CASTWRS AND THATS CHEATING!

Me: bc everyone has spell immunity for some reason or only takes 1/4 the dmg. I'm pretty much useless and am being fored to play melee unlike our LOREMASTER BARD who got an item to DOUBLE HER DMG AND SPELL SLOTS AND CRIT ON A 15 PERMANENTLY (this is the female btw)

Dm: well maybe you should have slept with the litch

Me: she literally found that item in a store for like 3 silver and when I looked (with a 17 arcana check) I found a rusty dagger and a flask of poisoned potion.

Dm: well maybe roll higher?

Female player: umm I rolled like a 10 and found this that's kind of cool but I dont think it's fair. But o wanna keep my items

Dm: ugh fine. You keep yours. Ummm (to me) I guess you get a potion of greater healing for....umm 500 go.

Me:.......nah I'm good, FUCK IT. I'll just make another spell caster Oops. Cant do that. How about a nope. Cant make a barbar I'm going to make a artificer

Dm: cant do that

Me: why?

Dm: they're broken its not good.

Me: *with the book* not broken..ulyou know what why dont you make me a character and I'll use that.

Dm: hands me a sheet

Me: reads "Zonia the sexy zombie elf sex slave that gets stronger every time she has sex?" *Looks at everyone* ok I'm out enjoy the campaign.

Dm: we cant have a dnd adventure with only 1 person.

Me: yes you can you've been doing it since session 1. I'm out goodbye. I'm still running my campaign on sunday. I wont hole anything against you. But I will not sit here and be shit on bc I refuse to kiss yur ass and make a slut of a character. Pull your head from your ass. I'm taking my stuff and I'm out.

Dm: but I need the dm screen and the mat and the markers.

Me: then buy your own or use theater of mind. I'm out.

Like how bad is it to want to be a dm to shit on ppl. THIS, THIS IS NOT OK. and no one wants a zombie sex slave that can only have sex and has a str of 0 a con of 30 a dex of 1 a cha of 40 and so on. Its friggin stupid!

Anyway that's my rant. Im....I think I'm just done with dms and crap I just want to play a dnd game I can be happy with. And not always be the Forever dm. Who has players challenge everything. Like why as a monk they cant use sleight of hand to CATCH A FRIGGIN FIREBALL AND/OR AN ARROW AIMED AT ANOTHER PERSON.

Anyway leave a comment or add on I'm just burnt out and glad I could get this rant off my chest

[glass-ladybug]

this isnt even coherent anymore im sorry

Even the faint humming of the various southern bugs slammed to a halt, the whole world seeming completely still as Mae’s scream pierced the air. Her fingers grazed past Gregg’s, and she could only watch in mute horror as his body arched, roughly cut strawberry blonde hair whipping past his face as he plummeted down, down, down, to the dry, cracked, and hardened earth below.

Until something stopped his fall.

Arms toned from years of hard work wrapped around him with frightening intensity, Bea’s figure sagging slightly under the weight that had just been forced upon her, barely daring to breathe.

Everyone remained frozen, and Mae’s mind shot back to a memory from a few days earlier, where she and Gregg had been in an equal amount of peril, only to have Angus rush forwards and whisk the two of them away. His face had a similar look now- terror, shock, and a wild intensity that had Mae almost afraid to be in his vicinity. His dark eyes flashed with something so raw, and primal, Mae could’ve been fooled that it wasn’t Angus she was seeing, but a shadow of him- fierce, and cold.

But now, someone new had stepped in. And Angus’s expression was tinged with a different emotion.

/Jealousy./

"Here," Angus said, his voice clogged with relief. "I'll take him."

Bea hesitated for a split second, and Gregg, his eyes wide with fear, pushed out of her grasp, stumbling towards his boyfriend. The two met in a frantic embrace, each clinging onto to the other like they'd never see each other again, their chests rising and falling in unison.

Maybe she was mistaken? After all- Angus had every right to be concerned. She might've been mistaking jealousy for agitation, or worry.

But Mae couldn't push away the lingering feeling that there was something very, very wrong.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

A piece of thick paper flew into the backseat, narrowly missing Mae's head.

"It's a map- snatched it from the diner."

Mae flipped the sheet in her hands, turning it at an angle until she found where she assumed they were. Probably. Maybe.

"Left!"

The frayed seatbelt dug sharply into her side as the car careened to the left, banging Mae up against the window.

"Well /damn/," Bea said, her voice light, "Give me a warning, first."

"Asshole."

"You know it!" Bea chuckled. "Also, take care of the map. It's the only one we have."

A beat of quiet.

“…Oops?” Mae whispered sheepishly.

The three turned to see the pamphlet-sized map dangling off Mae’s lap, utterly soaked by whatever drink Mae held in her hand, its colors bleeding together in a mass of swirled beiges and blues.

"God /damn it/, Mae-" Bea snapped, all of the joking tone from earlier dropping from her voice.

"It's fine! You guys have phones." Mae defended herself, picking the sopping mess off of her legs with ease.

"They. Don't. Work." Deep breaths, Bea. Deep breaths.

"And?"

"If they're not working, we don't have a GPS, which means-"

"I /know/ what it means, Bea!"

"Then we're stuck out here, in the middle of goddamn nowhere." Bea ground out in a futile attempt to level out her temper.

Mae pursed her lips, annoyance obvious on her face.  "That's not /my/ fault-"

"That doesn't fix the problem!" Bea's voice rose, nearing a shout. Yeah, screw that. There was an issue, and if screaming was the only way to get that through to Mae, so be it.

"Uh, guys?" Gregg said, "I think you might wanna see this."

Up ahead, the road which had previously been pavement, then gravel, then dirt, now dwindled away into nothing more than a stretch of weeds and dead grass.

"So..." Mae trailed off, the fire in her eyes dying a little.

"So." Angus agreed.

"We turn around?"

"I guess," Angus muttered, swiveling the car back around. A spray of mud and rocks clanged against the already patchy at best surface of the battered red truck.

Bea sat in silence, watching the gas meter creep lower and lower, in time with the rapidly setting sun.

Heavy droplets of water drummed against the windshield of the old truck, the windshield wipers working furiously to whisk them away. Not that it mattered much anyway. The sun was dropping, turning the sky an ominous red, and obscuring Bea’s vision further. She was becoming increasingly nervous by the second, twisting the car through muddied dirt roads that were almost certainly streaking its sides with grime. Where the /hell/ were they? Bea squinted at a rusted road sign, but to no avail. The paint was so badly chipped that it was completely incomprehensible.

Under normal circumstances, driving through Nebraska wouldn’t /so/ bad. Just corn fields for miles and miles. Wasn’t great, but, hell, it was a few hours she didn’t have to spend at the Pickaxe. Driving through without a map was completely different. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d even seen a house.

She briefly wondered how the store was being managed. Was Germ there? Had he made sure to keep the store stocked? Did anything terrible happen? She thumbed over the keypad of her old phone, tracing her fingers across its digits.

After everything was over and they returned home (assuming they ever got out of this hell hole of a state) Angus and Gregg would be gone in a matter of weeks- days, maybe. Over a series of late night chats on the phone, Angus had informed her that they’d already called a realtor. Some of their stuff was probably already packed away, maybe in the same types of cardboard boxes that still lay unpacked in /her/ room. They’d be gone, and she’d still be there. Working at the store she’d sworn all her life to avoid.

It was a little disheartening.

Like she was saying- normally, this wouldn’t be so awful.

But with no signal, no certainty they’d have enough gas, and no way of telling where exactly they were, it was as close to hell as Bea imagined she could get.

No, she amended. With all these endless fields of corn, and the lack of conversation, it was a lot closer to /purgatory./

Gregg flopped back into his seat. "Y'know, Mae, it's not a big deal. I don't think I can read a map anyway."

“The internet is ruining the youth!” Mae remarked sagely, bobbing her head up and down as if she’d just imparted some great wisdom.

“You’re on your computer /way/ more than the rest of us.”

"That's what dropping out of college does to you- endless free time, and a thirst for spaghetti."

A hollow laugh escaped from Gregg, and he kicked his muddy shoes up onto the dashboard. "Well, guess I'll get another chance at death out here, then!"

“Shut /up/,” Angus said, his low rumble permeating the car.

Gregg stilled, tensing up. "Geez, big guy, it's not a big deal. Just a joke."

"Yeah, well, you almost fucking /died/, so I don't really want to hear what you consider a 'big deal' right now."

They sat in silence, after that.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The sky was a deep blue, a remnant of the rain, the winding roads more 'boy-scout trail' than 'well-tended asphalt'. Mae would've opened a window if not for the fear of being stabbed by a wayward branch.

"/Shit!/" Gregg exclaimed.

Bea flung around. "What happened? Are you okay?" She craned her neck, her brown eyes glossy in the darkness as she examined Mae. "Is Mae alright? Did something break?"

"Uh, no, none of those. Can we park the car? Please?"

"I'm not parking the car so you can get your damn sweatshirt, Gregg." Angus said.

A nervous tinge entered the smaller boy's tone. "Uh, that's the problem, Cap'n. I don't /have/ my sweatshirt. Or any of my clothes."

"...What are you talking about?" Mae could almost feel the frown in Angus's voice.

"My luggage. It's gone. I left it in the hotel." The words were said with almost convincing false confidence, but Mae could see Gregg's hands twitching beside him.

"It's okay," Mae offered, "we can just call the hotel and ask them to mail it back to us, right?"

No one spoke, waiting for Mae to realize the obvious.

"Oh. Yeah." She mumbled, sinking back into the car cushions.

Finally, Angus growled out a few words. "Sometimes you are such a goddamn child, Gregg."

"And you've had a stick up your ass since we left!" Gregg shook his head. "I don't know what's up with you. Is it because I fell? I wasn't trying to. I'm sorry."

Angus didn't respond, and the car didn't slow.

"/Fine,/" Gregg spat. "Be that way."

Soon enough, lights tore through the foggy glass windows, searing Mae's eyelids.

"Civilization. Finally." Bea snarked, although there was relief evident in her voice.

Angus's door clicked open with a pop. "Good news, too. We're about out of gas."

And, sure enough, a small, dirty shop sat awkwardly on the land, sagging and bending from years of apparent use, accompanied by two muddied, but useable motorcycles sat chained up against a pole. Flickering with all its might, a broken neon sign hung forlornly over the dilapidated porch. 'Bikes For Rent'.

"Doesn't look there's anyone home," Bea said.

"This is the first building we've seen in forever- I'm not leaving yet." Gregg walked up to the door, pounding a few times upon it. Nothing in response but the old shop creaking with the wind.

Mae watched as her best friend's eyes met hers, and then flicked over to where the bikes were loosely chained.

"No," Angus said,

"What other option do we have? Wait for who-knows-how-long for someone to come back to this dump? I'll just leave some cash, and we can get out of here."

"And how are we going to get back?"

Gregg gestured towards the road, already filing bills out of his wallet. “See that sign? That’s an exit onto I-76.”

Bea frowned. “That’s in Colorado.”

A huff. “Well, congrats- we’re in Colorado.”

Snorting, Mae traced a finger over the rusty bike chain. “So what are we gonna do? Drive to Denver on a stolen bike?”

Gregg brought out a pen from his pocket, snatching up a scrapped newspaper advertisement from the ground. “Not a bad idea. Except, I’d call this more… extended borrowing.”

“Found the keys.” Bea said.

Angus turned with a whirl to Bea. “Don’t tell me you’re okay with this?”

Bea continued walking by, tossing a set of keys to Mae. “Under the doormat.”

“Gregg, this is /theft/-“

"Just /listen/, okay? I left the damn money, I'm leaving a pick-up address, the car is parked- what the hell more can I do? Nothing is /ever/ good enough for you, is it?" Gregg seethed, his knuckles white against his dark leather jacket. For the first time in her life, Mae understood why kids had labeled Gregg as a threat in the early years of high school- right now, he looked every inch the unstable punk the town's stereotype's made him out to be.

"Come on, Mae. You're with me." He brushed past, shoving the hastily scribbled address under the faded and cracked door. Mae didn't move, and instead watched as Bea's expression morphed into solemn resignation as she stalked past.

"Mae, let's /go/." Gregg's voice contained more harshness than Mae could ever remember hearing. She found herself tripping forward without even meaning to, sliding cautiously onto the seat of the gritty bike.

Across of the little store, the pitiful exit turned into a highway, stretching for miles and miles, its lights glittering brightly, the smell of cars and oil almost welcoming in their uniqueness.

"Crimes?" She whispered, less of a question than a statement.

Gregg snapped his helmet over his eyes.

"/Crimes/."