I love how the whole harry potter fandom just calls harry an idiot for naming his kid albus severus and says ginny should’ve named the kids so they would survive childhood
like you do realize this is the girl who named an owl pigwidgeon right
So, this was one of my first experiences playing a tabletop RPG. I was a barbarian, and due to the graces of a random name generator he was born with the name Jamhand Swordhand. Wonderful, right?
Strength of 18, intelligence of 8. He was a great character to play. Our group had a house rule, once per session you could prayer-roll. On a d100 you make less than a five and your prayer is answered. It was kind of abusable, but our DM even had it so your gods appeared in the stories. Needless to say that some of them weren’t very happy with all of our requests.
Jamhand was a brilliant mind. The ideas I would have playing as him were far-fetched and wonderful. From leaping from the back of horses unto octopus creatures in order to ride (and kill) them to having a possessed demon blade as a friend, he was chock full of great plans.
One session, our party was camped out for the night and scrolls were being looked over. It was time for our prayer-roll, it seemed. One member prayed to decipher a scroll, as it was in an unintelligible language. He succeeded. It was the details of a powerful sword. Jamhand saw and took notice of how those big strong guys in the clouds gave us things if we asked, so off he goes praying out loud “Jamhand wish to know things, too! Jamhand wish to know everything!!”
I rolled a 3.
The DM allowed it.
Jamhand convulsed and collapsed, the infinite knowledge of the universe shoved straight into his small, feeble little brain. He was gone. Passed out on the ground for hours. He woke up that day tied to the back of a horse.
Eventually, Jamhand was able to use his newly appointed gift in a puzzle-dungeon. Unfortunately, by the graces of our DM, Jamhand was forced to collapse into unconsciousness every time he called upon the knowledge. Sure, he’d wake up with the answer to the specific thing he needed to find, but by then it was already solved.
This is a curious one.
Inside jokes are actually something that happens relatively rarely at tables that I GM for.
I am currently running a Pathfinder game, using an alternate rule set based on old-school (and some new school) Final Fantasy games. You get color-based mages (Red, White, Black, Blue), super powered martial characters, and thieves that actually focus on stealing - among other things.
For the simplicity of this story, and for those that don’t know Final Fantasy, I’ll be calling all classes by their Pathfinder equivalents.
On one fateful evening, the party made camp at the edge of the desert, and took to rest, leaving the Bard out for first watch. The Bard had poor Wisdom and absolutely no points in perception. The Bard that was also mute.
This meant, of course, that this would end somewhere well.
I had already prepared for a group of enemies - 5 skeletons - to attack the party early in the night. All that needed to happen now was for the Bard to make a perception check.
Which, naturally, he failed.
The result meant that not only was he surprised, but two of the three skeletons had actually snuck into the tent where the Magus and Sorcerer were sleeping. The remaining skeletons ambushed the Bard outside. Two of the skeletons (one inside, one outside) had Scimitars, the others had their claws only.
The fight progressed as you might expect. Of particular note, however, was a single skeleton - who was unarmed. He would dodge every attack and, using his bare hands, dropped both the Bard and the Sorcerer practically by himself. The Magus and him eventually had a one-on-one fight. It was especially intense because she tried burning the remaining skeletons with fire, and ended up also lighting the tent ablaze.
Eventually, through sheer force of will, luck, and tears, the skeleton dropped, and the Magus, severely injured and out of spells, carried her unconscious companions away.
The skeleton’s accomplishments were so heroic that I later reintroduced him to the party (much to the horror of the Magus and her player) as a “mini-boss”.
His newly acquired name? World Famous Pugilist Bone Jackson.
He has since become a reoccurring villain (skeletons don’t truly die) and at the head of numerous jokes at the table.
Never have I had such a throw-away enemy rise to such greatness.