These are some of the more memorable moments of my gaming years. You can draw your own conclusions about the rest.
Me (as GM): "You set out the next morning, heading north, where the river ploughs its gentle course through low-flying farmland..."
From Twilight:2000:
GM: "As you enter the village
you see some heavy mercenary types looking your way."
Me: "I give them a hard stare."
GM: "Yes, Paddington..."
From AD&D:
My note to GM: "I spike
Dave's drink with a Potion of Diminution."
Dave's note to GM: "I spike Neil's drink
with a Potion of Diminution."
Dave to me: "No hard feelings, eh, old
chap. Here, have a drink."
Me to Dave: "Cheers, mate. Have one
yourself."
(You will, I trust, have noticed the intense in-character
role-playing betrayed by our note-posting style)
Having just fumbled a Move Silently roll to sneak
downstairs in the middle of the night:
NPC Landlady: "What are you
doing at this time of night?"
Halfling thief: "Er, I just came down for a
glass of milk."
Landlady: "In full armour?"
Halfling thief: "Er, yes, I was expecting
some trouble with the cow..."
NPC alchemist, having just heard suspicious noises in
his cellar: "Perhaps it's only mice..."
PC burglar: "Eek f*cking eek!"
(This became something of an OOC calling card, along with the rap
on the door whilst calling out: "Burglar!")
Most boring dungeon ever:
Dave's idea of a subtle twist on a timeworn theme
was to give us an interminable labyrinth that contained no
treasure, no traps, and no monsters save one half-starved rat.
And we would have missed the rat, only Dave took pity on us in
our mounting frustration. Certainly more pity than we spared on
the rat.
Encounter in a plot of intrigue and clue-sifting
GM: "As you wait at the front
door the guy you want to see comes home. He's wearing a scarlet
fish costume."
PCs: "Oh, perhaps he's been to a fancy
dress party."
(The GM was right. We couldn't notice a red herring when it was
right under our noses.)
Musical diversions
One song that enjoyed ephemeral popularity was Nellie
the Gnome. To appreciate the full lyrical depth and subtlety
of this masterpiece, you really need to be familiar with Peter
Cook and Dudley Moore's rendition of the Ballad of Alan a'Dale,
as performed in an ancient episode of Not Only ... But Also.
It goes something like this:
Alan a'Dale
Alan a'Dale
Alan a'Dale, oh - Alan a'Dale
Oh Alan, oh Alan, a'Dale!
The other stalwart in the song department was the Wood Elves' Anthem, sung to commemorate the glory and beauty of the ancient forests, the translucent verdure of their foliage, the fleeting ghost of mist upon the boughs on a summer morn, the delicate feel of bark under moss, the gentle gyration of branch and twig in the eternal cosmic dance of the dryads. Altogether now:
Trees, trees, trees, trees
Trees, trees, trees, trees
Wonderful trees, luvverly treeeees...
Everyone gets a free Wish:
Player 1: "I wish for a cloak
that makes me totally undetectable at will."
Player 2: "I wish for a +4 sword and a +4
shield and +4 plate mail and a +4 bow with a hundred +4
arrows."
Me: "I wish for a talking ferret that will
always be my friend so long as I'm kind to him."
(Said ferret went by the name of Trojan and had a smoker's cough
to go with his other vocal talents.)
SF mercenary game:
Player: I go to the hotel
gymnasium. Is there anyone there who might be our contact?
Teenage GM: No, just a woman on an exercise
bike.
Later...
Player: I try the gymnasium again. Is he there?
Teenage GM: No, but the woman's just leaving so
you can go and sniff the saddle now.
(We began the scenario by being told by the GM that we all worked
for an organisation called RUPTURE. We never did ascertain what
RUPTURE stood for, what its goals were, or anything like that.
Someone suggested we might be the arch-enemies of a group called
SPASM, which strikes me as perfectly plausible. At least as
plausible as anything that happened in that scenario.)
Pre-game chat before a hard SF game:
Me: I've redone the calculations
for the diameter of that million tonne spherical space station.
GM: Oh great. How wide is it?
Me: Er ... I make it nine inches.
(We never did get a final answer on that one.)
Spot the neophyte GM (1st Level AD&D):
Player 1: Find anything in the
caves?
Player 2: Nope. You?
Player 1: Nothing really.
NPC (GM's character): Hey, what do you think of
my pegasus?
One of those perennial bitching sessions on why no
one's got a scenario for anyone to play:
Dave: I never have trouble finding
time to write stuff up. I do it on the way to work.
Me: Yeah, but you've got a ninety minute train
journey. It takes me half an hour, on my bike.
Dave: You could try taping a notebook to the
handlebars.
(Dave doesn't like to be beaten, except by the general lameness
of his own arguments.)
Me: Oh yeah, right (or equivalent sarcasm).
Dave (lifting glass of cola to toast his own
triumph): Or you could use a dictaphone.
Me: Great. Then you'd get everything I say to
all the idiots I have to share the road with. "You reach the
Temple of Mercy, where the High Priestess smiles beneficently
down at you and says, 'Get outa my way, you c***'."
I hit Dave with that one just as he was taking a sip. Perfect timing. With a deafening snort he sent a great spumey mass of frothy cola erupting from his glass, in fact I feel a bit queasy just picturing the sight it made. He might even have sprayed the ceiling. Not often I get one over on Dave, but all the more treasurable when I do.
Worst AD&D Scenario Location Ever:
The Valley of the Flamenco Dancing Dinosaurs.
(Not one of mine, I hasten to add.)
Worst ever symbol to appear on a campaign map:
Public Convenience for Disabled Giant Mutant
Vampire Goats
(But that one was one of mine, alas. It was a very good
icon, mind, of a goat-headed humanoid with fangs, brandishing a
sword from his wheelchair.)
Worst stat on the character sheet:
Size - you rolled a d12 and that was it, in inches.
(Was I really the sad git who tried to argue that 2d4+1 would be
more realistic because it would introduce a normal distribution
curve? Erm, yes...)
Favourite Movie (and other) Quotes:
Every gaming group seems to acquire their own stock
of these.
"Born with a steering wheel in his hand!" and "In
the roar of an engine he lost ... everything!" (From Mad
Max and Mad Max 2 respectively. I suspect we
stopped playing Dark Future just to stop me repeating these two
ad nauseam.)
"You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"
(Michael Caine in The Italian Job. An indispensible
quote for modern day and SF games.)
"Anharl nadrach, urthas bethud, dochiel tienve" (The
Charm of Making from John Boorman's Excalibur. The
fantasy equivalent of "Klaatu barada nikto". And easier
to say than
"Phnglwimafh-thingummywotsit-chthulhu-fh'tagn".)
"I dunno, I'm just makin' this up as I go along."
(Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark. The GM's
secret mantra.)
"The Ring! The Ring! To Mordor we will take you!" (The
Black Riders in Lord of the Rings. A favourite of one
player who was guaranteed to come out with that one whenever a
magic ring was mentioned.)
Advice to GMs #1:
When handing players pre-generated characters,
ensure that their skills are written legibly.
Traveller player: I've got Helicat-3? What's
Helicat skill? I've never heard of Helicat.
GM (me): Erm ... it's 'Medical', actually...
When dealing with an irritatingly obstructive
super-computer, don't rely on old episodes of Star Trek to bale
you out:
Me: Okay, computer - what is the final digit of
pi?
Computer (ie, GM): Five.
(There was a brief flurry of isnotisnotisnotism at that retort,
but the GM Is Always Right. This particular GM also sent a
Traveller party to Earth, 1980, where we were assured that the
worst thing we had ever heard in our lives was something called
'Two Tone'. Not that I completely blame him for that, since he
was - most untypically - the only headbanger in the whole gaming
group. Quite how we ended up listening to Madness whilst fleeing
Reykjavik in the harbourmaster's boat - stolen, naturally - I
don't particularly want to think about. How we started the
scenario by walking to Iceland from the North Pole in about two
minutes of game time is something I really don't want to think
about. Still, we learned something - Reykjavik harbour is
crawling with heavily armed security guards, and they're all
rotten shots. Didn't know that, did you?)
Interesting character concept #3,257
A Were-Dodo. Whenever death seemed likely, he
turned into a dodo, and hence became extinct so nothing could
hurt him. Hats off to Gavin for that one.
Discussion on magic items:
"I mean, why does it have to be just the kind
of rings you wear on your fingers? Why not ear rings, or nipple
rings? Maybe you could get a Prince Albert of Protection +5."
Most pathetic out-of-character statement made
during play:
"Expose your dice, Evil One!"
(I blame Dave for that one. I was quite happily stacking my dice,
as one does when one's PC is not involved in the action, and then
he decided to flick his dice at my stack and bring them all down.
So I threatened to flick mine back at his, at which point he
promptly cupped his hands round them. Hence my ultimatum given
above. Turned a few heads, I can tell you.)
Gamer's Glossary: Addendum
Ooche (pron: oo-chee): n.
acronym for 'out-of-character experience' (cf Oobe, 'out-of-body
experience')
The Game of the Name:
Every player has at least one, buried away in his
or her dark and forgotten past - the character with the name you
wished you'd never thought of. Not all of these were mine, but
some of them were:
Sir Rendar of the Aenahmie (paladin) ; Holst Ein-Pils (mage) ;
Phaser Zonstun (nun - actually a 1st Edition AD&D Monk, but
female, therefore a nun) ; Slap Happy ; Phereal McCoy ;
Mandy-Anna Joan (dare-devil elven archaeologist) ; Gook
Flyswatter ; Lin Lithgow ; Vej A'Taerian ; Trevor Merlin (in the
same vein as Kevin Lancelot, Colin of Gondor, Sharon of Gondolin
etc) ; Ralmal Yavnormor (oh the joys of random name generation
programs...) ; 'Ragged' Robin Bladderwort ; Wombul (a WFRPS dwarf
from Norsca, complete with Ikea accent) ; Diolka Budl ; and Gem
Nastix.
Though even they got to be one up on the cleric who was known simply as 'The Cleric'. Not even Eric the Cleric, just ... The Cleric.
I never actually played in any of these sessions, I merely heard about them, so they might be a tad apocryphal.
Modern Day Cthulhu (back in the 80s):
Player 1: My character is Pieter
van der Huysen from South Efrica and I het the blecks.
Player 2: And my character is his brother Pik
van der Huysen from South Efrica and I also het the blecks.
GM: Er ... right ... well, the scenario ... erm,
well ... a wealthy industrialist's daughter has been kidnapped by
the African National Congress...
Best-laid plans of mice and GMs:
The GM's scenario was basically this. The PCs,
venturing far into the depths of the earth in search of some
powerful artefact, would find that it was in the hands of a city
of evil warrior dwarves. However, on venturing underground, the
PCs would meet some captive gnomes, who were at war with the
dwarves, and on being rescued the gnomes would show their
gratitude by helping the PCs. It could have been great, an epic
backdrop of a colossal gnome-dwarf battle with the PCs sneaking
in through the back of the throne room to get the wossname they
were after.
Only whilst all the other PCs were tying bits of rope together to descend the bottomless shaft that led to the underworld, one barbarian floated down on his ring of feather-falling, found the manacled gnomes, and promptly killed them. Why? Because they were gnomes, of course. So the gnomish back-up never materialised, and the PCs had to hack their way through regiment after regiment of kill-crazy dwarves. When the players started to complain, the GM just pointed at the barbarian - "It's all his fault. He killed the gnomes!"
(Something similar happened to me once. The PCs finally hacked their way into the evil wizard's lair, only to see him stepping through the full-length mirror at the far end of his inner sanctum. I had a pretty good idea of what awaited them when they followed him. I had no idea at all that the dwarf would simply put his axe to the mirror. Bastard. Players - there ought to be a law against them...)
In a game of Squad Leader:
Referee: Those heavy machine guns
of yours moving up to the front line....
Player: Yeah, what about them?
Referee: Is anyone actually there to carry them?
(You have to imagine a vicious gang of .50 cal Brownings hopping
up the Normandy beaches on their tripods).
Okay, so there's nothing there to compare with the Head of Vecna story. But then, that one does take an awful lot of topping.