Show Posts
This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.
Topics - chaoschristian
- 1
1
New Game.
5E. All players welcome.
"The Hired Help"
Dungeon Crawl: classic, trope driven dungeon environment. Expect monsters, traps, treasure and general shenanigans.
Level 1 characters. Restriction: PHB races and classes only. Equipment as described in PHB entry. Humans may use alt build.
Recommendation: Don't get attached too much. Maybe have a back up character ready.
Special Note: No spiders will be appearing in this game.
5E. All players welcome.
"The Hired Help"
Dungeon Crawl: classic, trope driven dungeon environment. Expect monsters, traps, treasure and general shenanigans.
Level 1 characters. Restriction: PHB races and classes only. Equipment as described in PHB entry. Humans may use alt build.
Recommendation: Don't get attached too much. Maybe have a back up character ready.
Special Note: No spiders will be appearing in this game.
2
Are the usual suspects here amenable to using scheduled Google Hang-out sessions to run game sessions live?
3
This is the sign-up thread for the 5E D&D game: A House of Wax.
This will be an opportunity to teach 5E to people new to that system, so I encourage both new and experienced players to participate.
This will be an adventure with action, exploration, some combat and plenty of room for character development.
Players will start at Level 3 and the game will allow progression to Level 6. XP will not be rewarded. Rather characters will be rewarded is Inspiration Points, items, magical artifacts, special powers and Levels for completing challenges set forth by the DM.
General Game World Notes
This will be a low magic setting. Magic items will be rare. Magic users will be oddities but will not suffer from prejudice.
You are citizens of the Kingdom of Gran Fenwick, an autocratic state just experiencing its first industrial revolution. You can be a member of royalty, the bourgeoisie, a merchant or guild member, hold military rank, or be an ordinary schlub, whatever works for you.
General Character Creation Notes
***Character descriptions and backstories are limited to twenty-five (25) words or less. To be submitted to the DM for approval.**
You can be any class you like so long as it is official published 5E material.
You can be any race you want with the exception of Dragonborn or Aasimar. These do not exist in my game worlds.
Ability Scores: use the Standard Array found on page 13 of the PHB. The Standard Array is 15,14,13,12,10,8. Additionally add an 11 to that array so your starting ability scores are chosen from [15,14,13,12,11,10,8] and your Abilities are : Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma and Sanity.
You may use feats.
Humans may use the Alternative Build for Humans.
The description for each class details starting equipment for that class. That is your starting equipment.
Post any questions you have about character creation here in this thread.
This game will begin after Teshi's game is concluded.
Listen to this. It will set the theme for the opening scene. Just listen to the music.
https://youtu.be/PDv2v2moP0M?list=PLWMwY4aw0kuIKfDij0Qnc_vtQloS5gje-
This will be an opportunity to teach 5E to people new to that system, so I encourage both new and experienced players to participate.
This will be an adventure with action, exploration, some combat and plenty of room for character development.
Players will start at Level 3 and the game will allow progression to Level 6. XP will not be rewarded. Rather characters will be rewarded is Inspiration Points, items, magical artifacts, special powers and Levels for completing challenges set forth by the DM.
General Game World Notes
This will be a low magic setting. Magic items will be rare. Magic users will be oddities but will not suffer from prejudice.
You are citizens of the Kingdom of Gran Fenwick, an autocratic state just experiencing its first industrial revolution. You can be a member of royalty, the bourgeoisie, a merchant or guild member, hold military rank, or be an ordinary schlub, whatever works for you.
General Character Creation Notes
***Character descriptions and backstories are limited to twenty-five (25) words or less. To be submitted to the DM for approval.**
You can be any class you like so long as it is official published 5E material.
You can be any race you want with the exception of Dragonborn or Aasimar. These do not exist in my game worlds.
Ability Scores: use the Standard Array found on page 13 of the PHB. The Standard Array is 15,14,13,12,10,8. Additionally add an 11 to that array so your starting ability scores are chosen from [15,14,13,12,11,10,8] and your Abilities are : Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Intelligence, Wisdom, Charisma and Sanity.
You may use feats.
Humans may use the Alternative Build for Humans.
The description for each class details starting equipment for that class. That is your starting equipment.
Post any questions you have about character creation here in this thread.
This game will begin after Teshi's game is concluded.
Listen to this. It will set the theme for the opening scene. Just listen to the music.
https://youtu.be/PDv2v2moP0M?list=PLWMwY4aw0kuIKfDij0Qnc_vtQloS5gje-
4
I am posting this now because if there is interest it will take me as long as Teshi's game to get it ready, but by no means do I want to detract or distract from Malcontents.
Last summer I ran a game for my teens that is basically a run away from the overwhelming horde and last as long as you can game.
We had fun with it.
It is a sci-fi/fantasy based one-shot world, very Mad Max in nature with rocket launchers, machine guns, motorcycles and maybe a mechanized armored tarrasque.
If this kind of game interests you, let me know in your response.
It is race restricted. All PCs are dwarves. No restrictions on character classes.
If there is a enough interest, I'll start the work of converting it from 5E to 4E for you.
Also, don't get attached to your character.
Last summer I ran a game for my teens that is basically a run away from the overwhelming horde and last as long as you can game.
We had fun with it.
It is a sci-fi/fantasy based one-shot world, very Mad Max in nature with rocket launchers, machine guns, motorcycles and maybe a mechanized armored tarrasque.
If this kind of game interests you, let me know in your response.
It is race restricted. All PCs are dwarves. No restrictions on character classes.
If there is a enough interest, I'll start the work of converting it from 5E to 4E for you.
Also, don't get attached to your character.
5
He started awake.
Blinking he tried to focus. Had he fallen asleep?
It was late. Or was it early. There wasn't a window to look out of to check the time of day. And the solitary lantern emitted a steady, suffuse glow. It could be midnight. Or three in the morning or three in the afternoon.
But he must have fallen asleep he concluded. He felt languid. Warm. Hazy. Exhausted or coming down with a cold? There wasn't time for either. They would be returning soon, he thought, in days probably. There wasn't a lot of time, and there was still too much work to do.
Tea. Grab a cup of tea. Refresh. Then back to work.
He made to stand.
He couldn't.
He didn't understand. He attempted to stand again. The weight of the chair shifted with him. He was fixed in place.
Confused, he tried to focus through eyes that refused to cooperate. Instinctively he moved to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His arms refused to budge.
He looked at his arms. He blinked. They seemed to be tied to the chair. That didn't make sense. He didn't remember tying his arms to the chair.
Why would he even do that?
He looked down again. It appeared that a rope wrapped around his waist. The thought struck him as funny for some reason. He laughed aloud.
Why was that funny?
Why was he tied to a chair?
From behind him a soft, husky, female voice spoke, "You're awake."
The voice. Her. Whoever. Was right behind him. He started for the second time.
"Hello?" he asked, incapable of suppressing an element of mirth in his tone.
No response. He tried to crane his neck, to look around, behind him, to see who or what was there.
A strong arm reach around his chest, holding him tightly. Pressing strongly. A hand gripped his right shoulder.
It was a warm embrace, but not a welcomed one. It was constricting and decidedly unfriendly.
He craned his head to the left again and his cheek contacted skin. Tough and warm.
He drew in a breath. The faint scent of burnt machine oil tinged with Sulphur. Acrid but not overwhelming
.
"Who ..."
"Shhhh."
He was about to protest, indignation cutting through the haze, but just then a sharp pain pierced his right side. There was pressure. It welled up in his chest. His diaphragm convulsed and felt like he was going to vomit. The pressure receded, but that didn't bring relief. He tried to breathe in deeply. He couldn't.
He couldn't catch his breath. He gulped. Nothing.
But rather than panic he felt bemused. He would have laughed if that had been possible.
The arm around his chest tightened and the voice spoke again, its cheek still pressed up against his.
"You don't have much time now. Just long enough. You won't struggle. I made sure of that."
"Just listen."
The voice was slow. Purposeful.
"It's taken me a long time to find you. And longer still to wait for this opportunity. Patience has never been my strength. But I learned. I'm a good learner. Do you know who taught me that?"
He fruitlessly gulped at air to respond. A hand covered his mouth, warm to the touch and leathery.
"Shhhh, now. Don't try to respond. You can't. And you don't have time."
"Recognition will come. Soon enough."
"You probably have thought me dead. If you have thought about me at all. But I lived. Barely. You left. I lived. Not true for many of our shared ... acquaintances. There are consequences to actions. Repercussions for choices." The s's hissed in his ear.
His chest tightened. His heart was thudding. A remote part of him noted with curiosity that this didn't appear to be as a result of an emotional reaction but a purely physiological one. His body was fighting to keep him alive. Fascinating.
"You left and left behind a lot of obligations. A lot of broken promises. Payment was expected. And you weren't around to deliver. But payment was extracted. A lot of good people paid for your absence. A. Lot. Of. Good. People."
His mind as a fog. He heard the words the voice spoke, but they were disconnected from his comprehension.
"I paid too. Over and over and over. I won't labor you with the details. No time for that. Suffice to say, I made an arrangement eventually. I could stop paying out of my own skin if I could deliver the one thing our friends want more than anything else in the world. Even more than vaults filled with Heartflow."
The edges of his vision darkened and his head nodded forward.
The hand on his mouth let go and slapped his right cheek sharply. This sting focused him.
"Not yet. Not yet." The voice was urgent now.
"Don't worry though. I'll leave your body intact. Your hornless whore can weep over it and your friends can pray over it while you're in repose. I'm sure it will be touching scene."
"I don't need your head. There's something I can deliver that will be proof beyond doubt. That charm ends when you're dead you know. Do you remember that? I do. I was there. I was the one who tracked down that enchanter and brought him to you. I sat through the entire ritual. Watching. Learning."
His chest burned with agony. His lungs were fire. His heart raced and each beat was a stab of pain. He focused on his work bench. The scattered books. The papers. The tools and components haphazardly strewn around.
...
Fideau was around here somewhere. He remembered that now. Skulking about the mounds of paper. Maybe he could ...
His heart stabbed at him. The little mechanical scorpion lay motionless on top of a copy of some d'Cannith treatise, stabbed through and pinned to the book with a dagger.
He saw red and the blackness began to envelop him. His head lolled forward again, but the strong hand pressed it closer into the face of the voice.
"One last thing before you go. I changed my name you know. I wanted you to know that."
The voice was a harsh whisper in his ear now.
"You gave me my new name."
"It's Regret."
"But now I have none."
His heart was skipping, irregular. The burning in his lungs faded to numbness. He clung to the edge of consciousness as a sublime giddiness embraced him.
The grip on him was released and he slumped forward in his chair, still tied in place.
The last sensation he felt before sinking into the void was a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, touched with the scent of burnt machine oil tinged with Sulphur.
Blinking he tried to focus. Had he fallen asleep?
It was late. Or was it early. There wasn't a window to look out of to check the time of day. And the solitary lantern emitted a steady, suffuse glow. It could be midnight. Or three in the morning or three in the afternoon.
But he must have fallen asleep he concluded. He felt languid. Warm. Hazy. Exhausted or coming down with a cold? There wasn't time for either. They would be returning soon, he thought, in days probably. There wasn't a lot of time, and there was still too much work to do.
Tea. Grab a cup of tea. Refresh. Then back to work.
He made to stand.
He couldn't.
He didn't understand. He attempted to stand again. The weight of the chair shifted with him. He was fixed in place.
Confused, he tried to focus through eyes that refused to cooperate. Instinctively he moved to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His arms refused to budge.
He looked at his arms. He blinked. They seemed to be tied to the chair. That didn't make sense. He didn't remember tying his arms to the chair.
Why would he even do that?
He looked down again. It appeared that a rope wrapped around his waist. The thought struck him as funny for some reason. He laughed aloud.
Why was that funny?
Why was he tied to a chair?
From behind him a soft, husky, female voice spoke, "You're awake."
The voice. Her. Whoever. Was right behind him. He started for the second time.
"Hello?" he asked, incapable of suppressing an element of mirth in his tone.
No response. He tried to crane his neck, to look around, behind him, to see who or what was there.
A strong arm reach around his chest, holding him tightly. Pressing strongly. A hand gripped his right shoulder.
It was a warm embrace, but not a welcomed one. It was constricting and decidedly unfriendly.
He craned his head to the left again and his cheek contacted skin. Tough and warm.
He drew in a breath. The faint scent of burnt machine oil tinged with Sulphur. Acrid but not overwhelming
.
"Who ..."
"Shhhh."
He was about to protest, indignation cutting through the haze, but just then a sharp pain pierced his right side. There was pressure. It welled up in his chest. His diaphragm convulsed and felt like he was going to vomit. The pressure receded, but that didn't bring relief. He tried to breathe in deeply. He couldn't.
He couldn't catch his breath. He gulped. Nothing.
But rather than panic he felt bemused. He would have laughed if that had been possible.
The arm around his chest tightened and the voice spoke again, its cheek still pressed up against his.
"You don't have much time now. Just long enough. You won't struggle. I made sure of that."
"Just listen."
The voice was slow. Purposeful.
"It's taken me a long time to find you. And longer still to wait for this opportunity. Patience has never been my strength. But I learned. I'm a good learner. Do you know who taught me that?"
He fruitlessly gulped at air to respond. A hand covered his mouth, warm to the touch and leathery.
"Shhhh, now. Don't try to respond. You can't. And you don't have time."
"Recognition will come. Soon enough."
"You probably have thought me dead. If you have thought about me at all. But I lived. Barely. You left. I lived. Not true for many of our shared ... acquaintances. There are consequences to actions. Repercussions for choices." The s's hissed in his ear.
His chest tightened. His heart was thudding. A remote part of him noted with curiosity that this didn't appear to be as a result of an emotional reaction but a purely physiological one. His body was fighting to keep him alive. Fascinating.
"You left and left behind a lot of obligations. A lot of broken promises. Payment was expected. And you weren't around to deliver. But payment was extracted. A lot of good people paid for your absence. A. Lot. Of. Good. People."
His mind as a fog. He heard the words the voice spoke, but they were disconnected from his comprehension.
"I paid too. Over and over and over. I won't labor you with the details. No time for that. Suffice to say, I made an arrangement eventually. I could stop paying out of my own skin if I could deliver the one thing our friends want more than anything else in the world. Even more than vaults filled with Heartflow."
The edges of his vision darkened and his head nodded forward.
The hand on his mouth let go and slapped his right cheek sharply. This sting focused him.
"Not yet. Not yet." The voice was urgent now.
"Don't worry though. I'll leave your body intact. Your hornless whore can weep over it and your friends can pray over it while you're in repose. I'm sure it will be touching scene."
"I don't need your head. There's something I can deliver that will be proof beyond doubt. That charm ends when you're dead you know. Do you remember that? I do. I was there. I was the one who tracked down that enchanter and brought him to you. I sat through the entire ritual. Watching. Learning."
His chest burned with agony. His lungs were fire. His heart raced and each beat was a stab of pain. He focused on his work bench. The scattered books. The papers. The tools and components haphazardly strewn around.
...
Fideau was around here somewhere. He remembered that now. Skulking about the mounds of paper. Maybe he could ...
His heart stabbed at him. The little mechanical scorpion lay motionless on top of a copy of some d'Cannith treatise, stabbed through and pinned to the book with a dagger.
He saw red and the blackness began to envelop him. His head lolled forward again, but the strong hand pressed it closer into the face of the voice.
"One last thing before you go. I changed my name you know. I wanted you to know that."
The voice was a harsh whisper in his ear now.
"You gave me my new name."
"It's Regret."
"But now I have none."
His heart was skipping, irregular. The burning in his lungs faded to numbness. He clung to the edge of consciousness as a sublime giddiness embraced him.
The grip on him was released and he slumped forward in his chair, still tied in place.
The last sensation he felt before sinking into the void was a soft, warm kiss on his cheek, touched with the scent of burnt machine oil tinged with Sulphur.
- 1