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Fandom & Gaming

Luck Deficit Disorder

Once upon a long time ago we were in the midst of a D&D campaign, one of the players was famous for losing characters. To be fair to him, they were all his fault. In this campaign he was going through characters pretty quickly, he’d rolled up six or so and the last one we pillaged a crypt and he’d pulled a necklace off of a remarkably well-preserved corpse. We were a ways down the hall when he said he wanted to go put it back because he felt like taking it would jinx him. We allowed as how we weren’t going to go back with him, but we’d wait a couple of minutes. We hear the crypt stone slid aside, then screams and the sounds of something being devoured. So, being good companions, we shrugged and moved on. Now he was without a character left to play. So, we let him play the pet pig from one of his characters. That pig was amazing, racking up the battle glories as we fought our way out. We were a week out of the closes town, too busted up to hunt, when we ran out of rations…and then he really was out of characters.

© 2017 – 2020, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.

Categories
Fandom & Gaming

Gaming Loophole

Once upon a very long time ago (I was 14 or so) I was playing with a fairly new DM that let my character amass entirely too much power and swag. To counter this, he told me when I hit my next level he was going to take my character and retire it to demi-god status. I was a bit heartbroken, it was incredibly overpowered and badassed and what kid that age wouldn’t want a character like that. I was dodging fights and still gaining XP and coming closer to that dreaded time of surrendering the character. I think I was within 25 points when a random encounter roll put me in the same room as a succubus. He looked at me in horror and asked if I was going to kiss it to lose a level and hold on to the character a while longer. Kiss her? Hell no, I’m going to sleep with her! was my enthusiastic reply. Yes, I lost about 3/4 of my levels, but I still had all the swag and gear, so he still had to put up with me. He never got the character, I moved first, and nobody else would let that sucker in their games, but I made the most of the time I had him, and gloried in the stress I caused that poor rookie DM as he tried to find ways to kill it off.

© 2017 – 2020, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.

Categories
Fandom & Gaming

Swirly

Once upon a very long time ago my best friend and I made a road trip to what was either a small convention or a large RPG/Gamer meet. Take your pick. We were pretty early so we watched the Axis & Allies games for a bit. We saw a new game coming out called Star Frontiers. Checked out some Tunnels and Trolls, Boot Hill, Star Trek, Chainmail and who know what else. We also heard some rumors about something called ElfQuest. Around noon, the DM we were waiting for showed up.

This was comfortably into the 1ed edition AD&D days, but by now everyone had their own homebrew tweaks to the game. So, we say at the table with the DM and she started in on a bag of Whataburger, she’d had a long and hungry ride to get there. So Buck and I got out books and dice and snacks together and the mandatory 2-liters of Mountain Dew and the backups ready and sat back to relax while she scarfed.

About this time, two guys wandered up. We’ll call them Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass. Dee was a pretty quiet sort, Dumbass wasn’t. He looked over the table, dropped his bag next to Buck’s spot with a loud crash and looked down at the feasting lady at the head of the table. “That’s a player’s chair, sweetheart,” he said, “You’ll have to stand behind your boyfriend and watch when we start.”

She rolled her eyes and replied that she was the DM.

He called bullshit and I replied with my best sunday-go-to-meetin’ manners. “Dickhead, she’s here to run the game at this table, so yeah, she’s the DM.”

He looked over at me, at this time I was around 17 and skinny as hell. I mean, tease your hair to keep your pants up skinny I’ve gotten better since, obviously.

Anyway.

He proceeded to make a bunch of noise about wasting a table on a chick game, so I got up, grabbed his bag and carried it to another table and dropped it off. My buddy Buck stood up when he started to say something to me and since Buck was 6’4” and of the muscular persuasion he decided to keep it quiet, since he was a weedy-looking sort with muscle tone like a canned ham and a quarter of his body weight was zits. So, Dee and Dumbass wandered off and the gaming commenced, and it was EPIC! Fights so hard we were rolling dice with sweaty palms and dripping brows But, we kept hearing him making crappy little comments all through the game. Finally, they made a break for the bathrooms and Buck and I called for a break.

Sadly, Dee wound up stuffed in a tall metal trashcan headfirst and somebody beat on the sides of the can for a while. Dumbass went headfirst into the toilet. We never did find out who would do such a thing, and I’m still not sure to this day why my shoes were soaked so bad I had to run out and change into cowboy boots before we could finish the session, I must have really been sweating those dice rolls.

© 2017 – 2020, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.

Categories
Fandom & Gaming

Meteor What?!

One upon a long time ago, I was on a deployment and we were playing D&D one night to have a little fun and kill some time while we waited for the aircraft to return. I’m DMing and running an NPC in a wizard duel with a player, I go to throw the spell and brain-locked on the game. Finally I yelled out “Meteor Bukkake!” At least one double-nostril spray of mountain dew and I had a few minutes to kick start my brain while everyone is laughing. I still can’t think about a meteor swarm without a chuckle.

© 2017 – 2020, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.

Categories
Goofing Off The WTF??? Files

A Tip on Cows

A safety tip for city folk: Cow-tipping isn’t a thing. Seriously. If you run across a field to build up enough momentum and somehow manage to surprise a cow (good luck, they are more attentive than you’d think) when you hit the side of the large, heavy animal, you will bounce off of it and it won’t feel good. Then you have several hundred pounds of ambulatory beef and leather’s full attention. By the way, cattle can run.

Believe it or not there have been scientific studies on the subject, and from these come estimates that it would take about six full-grown males hitting a cow broadside to possibly stand a chance. To do that you’re have to find a very inattentive and solitary cow, because they tend to group up, herd mentality at it’s purest, just to watch out for things like predators and drunk humans looking to knock them on their asses.

No, I’ve never tried to tip a cow, watched a few try it. Didn’t go well for them. Especially the guys that found out bulls can be territorial as all hell and chased them back across a fence before they got halfway to the cows. I’ve been in cow pens for various legitimate reasons, and on one occasion I had a cow stand on my foot while I was reading numbers on ear tags to find one that needed to be tested for something or another. Pushing said critter did not shift it an inch, it just turned and looked at me and made a loud protesting call that wouldn’t be confused with the traditional ‘moo.’ I managed to get my foot out but my foot hurt like hell for a few days.

I have managed to jump on a couple for very short rides, two ran away and I came off, nothing to hold on to, the third, a young-ish bull, chased my young dumb ass all the way to the nearest fence and butted me over the fence just as I was starting a jump to hurdle it. I cleared the fence and landed in an undignified lump a good 15′ or so on the other side. Alcohol may have been involved >.>

So, no cow-tipping. Doesn’t work, you want to play with beef, get some hamburger and make patties.

© 2016 – 2020, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.

Categories
Memoirs

Riding with the Voices

So, driving into Boise this morning and a car load of ladies is passing me, I ease up on the gas because it’s snowing and the road isn’t all that it could be, and then I notice that there’s a truck right on the car’s ass. She gets barely past me and his front bumper is even with my side mirror. That right there is a dick move, a lot of people do it, get up on somebody and try to intimidate them into getting out of their way. It’s a dick move, especially under these conditions, but it worked. There wasn’t much clearance as she merged into my lane, so I got off the gas entirely.

“What an asshole!” Says Id, looking at the truck.
“Something isn’t right,” Says Ego.
“We’re seeing an awful lot of the side of that car,” says Super-Ego.

Yeah, she’s sideways now and the idiot in the truck keeps me boxed in, now he’s suddenly not interested in passing anymore, it seems safer to him to leave me boxed in.

By this time my three observers are paying more attention to the car and its three occupants.

“Ladies!” Says Id.
“Their eyes are the size of pie plates,” says Ego.
“They’re getting really close,” Says Super-Ego. “And they’re more like pizza pans now.”

“STOP” Says Id.
“Better tap the brakes,” says Ego.
“Its going to suck,” says Super-Ego.

So, I tap the brakes and the back-end starts to swing toward the ditch and by this point I noticed that the passenger in the front seat of the car was wearing hoop earrings and had a bit of dental work. Her mouth was open that wide. We both left the road at this point, not a huge deal because this was a nice flat area with barely any drop-off. She’s got some spin going and I’m just following my rear bumper.

“Whee!” Says Id.
“This is like Sherlock deciding to fall forwards or backwards,” says Ego.
“Is this really the time to think about Sherlock?” Chides Super-Ego.

Since there’s now distance between us I use some brakes and stop fairly soon. Back to park, get it started again. Okay, so far so good.

“AGAIN!” Says Id.
“Damage report!” Says Ego.
Super-Ego was quiet, except for swatting Id with a rolled up newspaper.

So, I hop out and look over at the other car and motion for the driver to roll down her window. The lady in back did instead. “Everyone Okay?” I ask.

“We’re fine,” she replies then eyes my cane. “You?”

“Oh yeah, I already had this with me.” I reply as I check tires and all the various dangly bits under the truck.

“She’s not really sure about winter driving yet,” the back-seater said as I finished my walk-around. She was doing the same and the driver was sliding into the back seat, hiding her face.

I nod at that. “Well, that wasn’t it,” I allow, but I was laughing so she took it like I meant it.

So, back on the road and not far after that spot the road was completely clear. Cool, sped up to the speed limit, checking how the truck drove and noticing it wasn’t pulling to the right like it normally does. Have to check that out later. Anyway, I passed everyone that watched me hit the ditch and now drove about 20 under. I passed a few semis and as I passed the lead semi I saw a white pickup between the two big diesels find the only patch of ice for miles and make its own ditch run.

Odds are everyone thought it was me again.

See what happens when I forget my coffee? If I’d have pulled back into the driveway and run in for it I’d have been a mile or two behind where I was and we could have avoided the whole thing.

© 2014 – 2020, Tim Boothby. All rights reserved.