Your Funniest Tabletop Story

So the running joke in my group is that I have ridiculously lousy luck with dice.

I picked a different pair of d10s today for the d100 in our Warhammer campaign.

I start rolling ridiculously low. First, we have to deal with a Khornespawn or something chasing our Elf scout. Sure, the scout runs in, saying that he's being chased. Nothing. So we roll Perception and it turns out that the fucking thing ran up a wall and followed him across the ceiling. And it so happens that I get a good couple of successes on the perception roll, and I'm lugging a blunderbuss (this will be important later).

BOOM. I'm two points short of a critical hit, but between me nailing the Khornespawn with the blunderbuss and the scout finally putting his enchanted bowstring to good use, the thing drops to the ground in liquid form. Everyone's shocked, particularly the guy playing the other elf. But, we first have to roll Endurance, and it turns that everyone has Steel Eardrums... except me. On the upside, I get a critical success on the Cool roll not to freak out a moment later, when we all see the mother of all battles going on between an army of undead dwarves and even more Khornespawn. Basically, I'm all out of fucks to give for the rest of the session, even when I faceplanted after flunking an Athletics roll to jump over a chasm.

Our party is assisted by a squad of NPC local guards, including their scout. That scout accidentally draws the attention of more Khornespawn later on, and during the attempt at drawing them back to us, the Khornespawn get idiotically high Initiative rolls and he gets eaten mere forty feet away from our group.

Big mistake.

Two elves top my initiative, but can't do shit. So I have a group of five Khornespawn tightly packed on top of an NPC, who I'd prefer to avoid hitting otherwise, but since he's dead already, I'm packing a big-ass shotgun, I'm out of fucks to give and I can't hear shit, I pull the trigger.

01. Meaning, all five Khornespawn take a 15 damage critical hit and I cackle like an absolute maniac. The critical hit is resolved, two of them drop dead instantly, the remaining three get stomped by a charge of the guards.

Once again, the guy who plays the elf wizard cannot comprehend what the fuck just happened.

Same group, new characters.

• Kokos plays Witch Hunter Els Sigloben
• Zyntek plays Grave Warden Wilhelm
• And yours truly plays Morr Priest Luthor Schwarztor

This time we played a tried and true classic, Night of Blood updated for Warhammer's Fourth Edition.

So no shit, there we were: twats in a dark and stormy night. We miscalculated the travel time from our last adventure, "The Gates of Morr" (written by a famous local GM), had to camp out by the roadside, barely dodged an attack by a group of mutants and Beastmen and had to backtrack to The Hooded Man inn. This cost us most of our heavy gear, as the mutants either stole or wrecked anything large enough not to fit in our pockets, but I managed to recover our grave warden's crowbar and lantern.

As we were approaching the inn, I hung the biggest fucking lampshade on the whole story, regaling the other players with a story about Wolfgang "Zahni" Bohne, Chaos cultist from Marienburg who, along with his family, ran an inn, sacrificed people to the Ruinous Powers and managed to escape the witch hunters - basically a combination of Sawney Bean and the Bloody Benders ("bohne" means "bean" in German, BTW). Not that I knew what scenario we were playing, it's just that if you're playing Warhammer and getting into a suspicious inn in the middle of the night, some evil shit is just bound to go down. But, we go in, round the back, noticing the bloodstain in the stable. The witch hunter ignores it and pretty much busts down the inn's door. We meet the fat innkeeper Otto (cue our "Otto, that's a trustworthy name" joke), the bug-eyed janitor and the fairly normal patrolman from the local guard. I introduce the group as "Wandering Morrons" (as far as I can translate the pun), and the grave warden goes on to inquire about the bloodstain in the stables. The guys in the inn say that a coach arrived just before sundown, and Beastmen hit it on the way, killing one of the coachmen, whom they put in the stables for the time being. So I drag the grave warden along, to hold the lantern for me while I examine the body and say a short prayer. The witch hunter stays and orders food.

Over the dead body, I have a discussion with the grave warden, with a Call-Back to the previous adventure. Namely "When someone gets up after I pray for him, it doesn't mean they're undead. Sometimes they just knocked themselves out with a temple bell and just came to." - a plot point regarding the unfortunate priest of Morr who wanted to hang himself on the belfry rope, the bell support broke and the bell fell on his head, knocking him out and trapping him underneath.

As you know, the food is drugged and we wake up locked up in the room upstairs. The grave warden wakes up first, sees the spider-man coming out of the stables and starts kicking the heavily sleeping witch hunter to wake him up. This results in the two having a slap-fight that wakes me up. I start berating the two, and motivate them to leave the room. The grave warden repeats his crowbar trick from the previous adventure, popping the lock without much damage. Then, he points out that someone removed the carpeting from the hallway in a hurry, which the witch hunter ignores and starts another slap-fight. Between the two acting like complete idiots and me flunking most of the rolls during the session, I blow a fuse and quote Nowy's famous rant from the first Psy movie: "You're all fucked up! You're unfit for judgement, you need therapy!", and so, I'm fresh and clean, the Witch Hunter is on half his HP and the grave warden is on his last two. We crack open the door to the innkeeper's bedroom and find a portrait of a dwarf and his wife, realizing that something is seriously off in this place. Of course the Witch Hunter is not as paranoid as he should be, claiming that what's going on is just some run-of-the-mill brigandry that's far below his wheelhouse, but since we hear some indistinct chanting, I go off to investigate. I find bloodstains and a hatch in the cellar, with the chanting being audible enough for me to recognize that's not just any prayer, so I go back and drag the Witch Hunter back to the cellar, stating "Five shillings say there are mutants in there!".

We enter the sub-cellar right in the middle of the ritual. I finally manage to pray up a magic weapon for the Witch Hunter with a loudly exclaimed Badass Creed: "Master of the Crows, we shall feed your harbingers!", roll Initiative and shit hits the fan. Because I notice the figurine on the altar and guess what, those guys worship the vulture.

We're up against the patrolman, Otto, the janitor, spider-man, a hooded man and a swirling ball of pink energy that suddenly grows a clawed arm, nails the patrolman right in his stupid face and hops off the altar to eat him while the rest of the little cult goes right up in our faces.

The hooded man turns around, revealing himself as Skeletor, which scares the grave warden shitless. I roll a critical success, because as a priest of Morr that's just how I roll and if you have a skull for a face, you're on my shit list. The witch hunter goes to town on spider-man and the janitor, the grave warden takes out the fat guy who's trying to bail, and I one-shot Skeletor, dislocating his knee and giving him a splitting headache with my reinforced cane. Meanwhile, the ball, having eaten the patrolman, hops out with a full set of four arms and attacks the witch hunter, who fends it off with his newly magical sword. Since it's a Pink Horror, it goes SPLUTCH and splits into two Blue Horrors. I call for aid again, roll a critical success, enough to magic up all our armaments. The witch hunter takes out one, while I, with the battlecry of "BATTER UP, MOTHERFUCKER!", trip the other one and send it hurtling towards a wall, where it splatters and disappears.

So the grave warden is on his last HP, the witch hunter is on his last HP, and I'm still fresh and clean, so I dust myself off and tell the Witch Hunter "And now you owe me five shillings."

Edited by NotSoBadassLongcoat on Mar 21st 2022 at 12:13:21 PM

Very grim, very dark, very psychological session of Warhammer, with the same group. The Witch Hunter chickened out and went Screw This, I'm Outta Here.

My priest of Morr looks at him walking away and shouts "Coward! Oathbreaker! You still owe me five shillings!"

Last Monday our Warhammer party (four elves and a dwarf) got arrested on a flimsy pretense while out at night.

After finishing our night, we decided to spend time in the morning by singing. Which none of us was trained for. We all failed our rolls, resulting in hours of singing horribly out of tune, driving the guard (and the other prisoner) to madness.

Then our thief picked the lock, and we decided to use the opportunity to play Red Light, Green Light in the cellblock's corridor. When the guard finally came he couldn't believe his eyes from the sheer absurdity of the situation!

In the end he lent us a deck of cards in exchange for a promise to behave.

Edited by Medinoc on Apr 20th 2022 at 9:36:01 PM

After rewatching our last grimdark psychological session of Warhammer, I caught how I went full-on Deadpan Snarker during the summary:

• "So I had to beat the plot with a stick until it started working."
• "You can't have the fucking dead rise from the graves and scare good people, let's put them back under so they cut that shit out."

There was also a slot machine joke that I made as Nurgle, but it's a pun in the local language. Basically, we call slot machines "one-armed bandits" and our halfling pimp was about to lose a hand. So I went "Time to choose, boy, being an one-armed bandit will limit your career choices to gambling..."

I started watching today's session that I GM'ed, with my usual team and a buddy of mine who decided to join.

We're playing Dark Heresy 2, and I want the players to do some investigatin'. So the squad isn't super killy.

• Kokos plays Highborn Administratum Sage Sigmund Doran, a valus (minor noble) from the planet Ghaul Secundus. Yes, that's a Destiny 2 joke. "Sigmund" was one of the suggested names for him. If he played a female character, the title would be "vala" and one of the names was Maldonata, or Mal for short.
• Zyntek plays Shrineworld Adeptus Astra Telepathica Mystic Theodorus Vianney, an oddly shrewd pyrokinetic with a phobia of darkness.
• Nim plays Voidborn Adeptus Mechanicus Desperado Elon 7-Sigma-1-3, the team's tech specialist and gunslinger.
• Mumik plays Forgeworld Arbites Chirurgeon Omar Zahn, adept at breaking and setting bones.

They hardly know the system or the universe, so I had to explain some basics like how Administratum is a massive, disorganized, form-misplacing, long-time-waiting clusterfuck nobody gives a shit about, not unlike our bureaucracy. I told Kokos to roll for his Administratum Knowledge, he rolled a critical success, I explained, he lost it.

Kokos: Fuck! I'm here to play a science-fiction game, not Poland!

Zyntek was hungover after a Saturday night and Nim didn't quite catch it, resulting in Ask a Stupid Question...

Kokos: He got plastered on sour milk.
Zyntek: Yeah! I played jackstraws! With cooked noodles! Underwater!

Kokos' character wound up in the Inquisition after diverting Administratum resources for a family matter (getting rid of pirates harassing his family's fleet), so I'm explaining it to him.

Me: Well, you got an offer. Either you become a field analyst for the Inquisition, or you'll be counting paperclips in some ass-end of the universe for the rest of your life.

Mumik noticed that the short backstory I prepared for Kokos indeed had the paperclip-counting job (or, formally, "Assistant, Third-Rank, Administration and Economy Department") located in "Anusmundi Sector".

I'm explaining some basics regarding ork invasions in-character, and "character" is a snarky Imperial Guard recon veteran.

Me: If they drop in and want to fight, we're more than happy to take that challenge. But when we're done, we have to drop a whole lot of napalm at once so their spores don't grow back up, and that is some shit, I'm telling you.

Nim asks about beastmen (since we played Warhammer Fantasy for a year together), so I accidentally answer in character:

Me: Well, mutants are a bit out of our wheelhouse since we're focused on dealing with the xenos, but if you find any heretics, feel free to smoke'em.

During the Lock-and-Load Montage, Kokos flunks three rolls in a row, one for getting a survival kit. This prompted the veteran who briefed the team to just feel pity for him.

Me: Harland puts his hand on your shoulder and says "Mate, go upstairs to the quartermaster, tell him I sent you and you need four backpacks, four sleeping bags and a week's rations for four people."

Upon encountering a big, undocumented airlock in the basement of a local spaceport, the team starts wondering how to get at it, leading to something of a running joke about Zyntek being handy with a crowbar (a Call-Back to how he rolled a critical success while opening a locked plot-important door with a crowbar at two sessions one after another).

Mumik: Do you have a crowbar?
Zyntek: Not in this game.

At the official dinner organized to welcome our heroes, they learn that the local head of the Ecclesiarchy wants to build a cathedral bigger than the governor's palace, so Mumik, in character, sums it as:

Mumik: Oh. So they're having a dick-measuring contest.

Edited by NotSoBadassLongcoat on Apr 25th 2022 at 10:02:59 AM

So, we were playing Dungeon of the Mad Mage and got to the part with the Goblin king with the magic crown that made him look like a human. Some other goblins wanted us to get the crown away from him or they were going to depose him So I came up with a little idea.

I went to the market next door and bought a cheap circlet. Then I went to the king and offered it to him as a gift.

Barnabus: Your Majesty, let me present you with this gift. It is a magic crown that has set on the brow of elven kings for uncounted years, and if you wear it you will have all the wisdom of all of those kings.

Goblin King: Will it make me taller?

Me, Out Of Character: That's what he wants the magic crown for?

DM: Yep.

Barnabus: Have you ever known an elf who wasn't tall?

> The goblin king takes the circlet and swaps it out for his old crown.

Goblin King: (Suspiciously) Why am I not taller?

Barnabus: Because it's a magic crown. You'll need an hour to attune to it.

> The party hauls ass out of goblin town before our hour is up.

Other player: So, are you a Rogue?

Me: I'm a Paladin!

"I'm like you, but beautiful"

• Said by the CHA 5 oversized goblin to the CHA 3 svirfneblin.

D&D 5e. I'm the DM. The party is in a Dwarven stronghold (the factotum's hometown), clearing out the Duergar that have occupied it. They end up at a former fire beetle farm that has been converted into a steeder ranch, in the hopes of depriving the Duergar of their war mounts so they can't chase after the refugees that just fled. Now, if you didn't know, according to the lore, steeders are stupidly aggressive, particularly the females, and have to be locked in individual pens when they're not working so they don't eat each other.

So this is how they find the steeders when they arrive. They manage to fight off the Duergar working the ranch, the kavalrachni trying to mount up, and the surprise gargoyles and fire elemental myrmidons, and are left with a bunch of penned-up steeders. This is where things get funny. The factotum grabs a dead fire beetle and offers it to one of the steeders, then attempts to mount her while she's distracted by food. Foolishly inexperienced DM that I am, I decide to allow an Animal Handling roll, figuring I'll set the DC high, and once it fails, they'll^note player uses they/them; character uses she/her give up and we can move on.

Cue the Natural 20.

So the character now has a female steeder for a mount. Before the session was over, she had a name. The dwarf talks about her the way one would talk about a kitten.

That’s why you should always remember degree of success, the silly benefit from a good idea/nat 20 can exist but doesn’t have to last very long.

Like the time my group defeated a Rust Monster next to a locked office. They were meant to go further into the dungeon to get the office key, but they asked if they could use the dead Rust Monster’s abilities to rust the lock out. It was too fun an idea to say no to, but I made it clear that it only worked because the Rust Monster has been killed in the last couple minutes. So they wouldn’t start harvesting Rust Monster corpses for infinite lock-picks.

An accidental Galaxy Brain trick my players pulled in last night's Witchlight game.

The party was trying to find an object taken from them by the hag, which they (correctly) believe is concealed somewhere inside her hut. The party also has a hunch that the hag is far more powerful than what they can take in a battle, and with every word they exchange the tension seems to be reaching closer and closer to a boiling point.

So just as a fight is about to break out, the Bard casts command on the hag, which works thanks to an abysmal roll on the hag's part. The command of choice?

"Emigrate."

No worries, the effect lasts only for a round, the hag can't flee the country to far, right? But hold on, what's that at the bottom the hag's known innate spells? "Plane shift, once per day?"

Well.

So in an absolute clutch move, the party bard sent the hag packing to another plane of existence with no way back until the next day. We concluded the game after that happened, so the players basically think they have six seconds to prepare until the hag returns, when in reality they can just ransack her house with a leisurely pace.

Edited by Xeroop on Nov 4th 2022 at 11:24:13 AM

Oh man, I can't believe I forgot about this one.

So, the buildup to this isn't particularly funny, but the payoff is worth it. We've tracked a green dragon to her lair. Seven of us go under the lake to confront her, while the other seven remain topside in case anything else happens. The dragon attacks us almost immediately upon us finding her cave. It's a tough battle, and the dragon is targeting certain party members over others because those party members may have killed two of her children in an earlier session.

When we get the dragon below a certain HP threshold, she decides she has nothing left to lose and starts smashing a hole in the ceiling. If you recall, the cave is under the lake, so it starts flooding, and we decide it'd be in our best interest to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, the dragon decides that if she's going to die, she's going to take one of us with her, grabs the sorcerer (my character's best friend), and flies off to savage her without interference. The paladin goes to recover her body, and decides that the best way to distract the dragon is to cast Minor Illusion to create the sound of a baby dragon in distress.

Unsurprisingly, this makes the dragon even more pissed than she already was. This time, she flies back over and attacks my character, who is knocked unconscious, but not killed. The cleric is nearby and decides that my best shot for escaping would be to get the dragon away from me. So she activates a magic item she has that pushes creatures in its space away when it's activated. The item in question? Daern's Instant Fortress, which also does 10d10 bludgeoning damage to creatures in its space when activated. The dragon had already used up all her Legendary Resistances, and had taken enough damage that the tower killed her.

So in short, after a long mentally and emotionally taxing battle, we killed a dragon by dropping a tower on her. My exact words in the Discord server were "Farrah just lost her best friend, and I'm laughing." I think this will go down as the single most epic moment of the campaign.

So, I'm in an SCRPG game where we're playing magical thieves. One of the characters is deeply indebted to... pretty much every major demon and powerful malevolent being in the setting. One of these demons has decided to come a calling by stealing a huge hoard of treasure we were holding onto (that we had previously stolen). In order to get it back we agree to steal something for the demon. Out of character, while we're deciding what to steal we start with the Atlantean Sword (cause Atlantis is real in this universe) of a particularly powerful hero. Unfortunately, it turns out that sword had been destroyed in the OblivAeon event (big world ending event a while back. Don't worry about it). So we were brainstorming other Atlantean artifacts we could steal and I said in an exaggerated voice as a joke "We are going to steal the entire Throne Room!"

And now we're stealing the Throne of Altantis.

Edited by BackSet1 on Jan 5th 2023 at 9:53:50 AM

Players are in the feywild, at a party with an archfey. They've carefully and successfully avoided all the obvious traps, giving fake names up when asked (ah, the delightful, 'Give me your name?' 'X' 'Thanks I'm keeping it' sort of fails when 'X' is a fake name) and have been allowed to leave. As they do, the archfey calls after them 'Tell everyone you meet that Y gives the best parties around.' One of the players automatically says 'sure'. Guess who's cursed to tell everyone he meets that 'Y gives the best parties around'?

Ah, fey.

Edited by ECD on Dec 29th 2022 at 5:59:31 AM

The Fall of Fort Impregnable keeps making me laugh.

Wow, greed and overconfidence appropriately rewarded.

Another great story is the tale of two Tarrasques and how the party made the apocalypse exponentially worse.

This story of a poorly-written skeleton-summoning spell that multiplies exponentially and devolves into an infinite mass of skeletons that collapse into a star still makes me laugh.

Thank that user for the transcript.