cool use for Major Image I discovered: conjure the images of your dead friends and replay conversations with them over and over and over while having a breakdown on a street corner
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gavindelThe reason all your softwareis brokenRegistered Userregular
cool use for Major Image I discovered: conjure the images of your dead friends and replay conversations with them over and over and over while having a breakdown on a street corner
It's all fun and games till you let the recording run long enough to see them die again.
Also technically you can make the illusion say whatever you want so you could totally tell them about what's happening to you today and have them respond just like you think they would respond if they weren't dead and its your fault! If you have them try to hug you though they'll just pass through and ruin the illusion.
Krrt the aarakocra was shot twice in midair by a drow gunslinger; the second hit took him to zero, and then he failed a death save automatically from smacking into the rooftop
And then I... rolled a 1 on the next save
Folks this is my first character death and I'm not feeling... good about it
Krrt the aarakocra was shot twice in midair by a drow gunslinger; the second hit took him to zero, and then he failed a death save automatically from smacking into the rooftop
And then I... rolled a 1 on the next save
Folks this is my first character death and I'm not feeling... good about it
Condolences.
In my experience, the best salve for losing a character is having another character you're super excited to try out all ready to go.
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astrobstrdSo full of mercy...Registered Userregular
I would be really sad if my frat bro monk died right now. I totally understand. This is also why I'm a big fan of "meaningful death" as a DM tool. Basically, only named or boss stuff can actually kill you unless you are explicitly sacrificing yourself for the group. Minions "will" try to take you to said bosses though, so your party better catch up!
Krrt the aarakocra was shot twice in midair by a drow gunslinger; the second hit took him to zero, and then he failed a death save automatically from smacking into the rooftop
And then I... rolled a 1 on the next save
Folks this is my first character death and I'm not feeling... good about it
We've all had our Blackleaf moment, it's okay
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webguy20I spend too much time on the InternetRegistered Userregular
I'm sad when a character I've played dies, but I always have a ton of classes that I want to try out, along with character concepts, so I'm never too shaken up.
I shouldn't be allowed to write character backgrounds, jesus this is why I don't usually iron out my own PC characters backgrounds this much, but the GM of the Waterdeep: Dragon Heist campaign wanted it written out. So....here's Merric, Stout Halfing Folk Hero:
Of the family Tosscobble, though that name is now discarded, Merric was born in the happy village of Maren’s Eve, in the Eastern Reaches of the Heartlands of the Swordcoast. Like all halfling children, Merric’s childhood was full of bliss and happiness. Early in his life, duty was important to the youth, being the oldest of five children. This proved to be a difficult balancing act for him, being a “fancy feet” halfling, prone to exploring and adventures.
His skill with combat and martial prowess was noticed after, at the age of 10, he chased three goblins away from his youngest sister, Lidda, wielding nothing more than a pot lid and a broomstick. His love of Cyrrollalee was in full display in his easy friendships he struck up with all in the town. This devotion, his desire to protect others, and his adventurous self was channeled into the town militia. For most halflings, this would have been the start of a productive life as a stoutheart guardian and farmer, and would have been for Merric, if not for Maren’s Barrows.
Maren’s Barrows, located two miles from the town, was a verboten and partially sacred place for the Halflings of Maren’s Eve. The Barrows were covered in choked dirt and dried weeds, with a wailing cave entrance at the bottom of the largest mound. Originally the burial place for all who passed in the village, centuries ago it changed. Something buried deep within stirred, and was sealed inside by Maren. It was now considered the sacred duty of the village to watch the Barrows, never enter, and keep others out of it.
When Merric was 18, a brave Paladin human, soft in words and strong of heart, came into the town and upheaved his life. The Rural Knight, as he was known, captivated the young men and women of the town, training many of them in more in-depth combat. So enamored with the Rural Knight was Merric that he even tried in vain to become a paladin of Cyrrollalee, but sadly he did not have the skills necessary to connect with Cyrrollalee. Still, he studied combat with the Rural Knight, and along with the other youths of the Hill Brigade (as they called themselves), were driven to strike down any evil the Rural Knight would point them at. This was first the goblins living in the forest nearby, who often tried to raid their farms.
Soon it would turn to the Barrows. The Rural Knight had come because of an evil artifact that was buried within in it, that was calling more and more evil energy to the cave. He spent many an evening speaking with the elders of the town, trying to convince them of the dangers within the Barrows. He presented research, recounted old tales of the darkness within, pointed to astrological signs, but could not be given the permission by the elders to enter the cave. It was forbidden, and that meant no one could go in, ever. Still, every night the Rural Knight would present his case, but be shot down. If he ever became dismayed at being told no, he never said anything.
Full of righteous fervor, the Hill Brigade decided that the tradition was now a chain that must be broken. Wanting to do what they felt was right, and impress the Rural Knight, they marched as a group to the Barrows. Lead by Merric, they ignored all the hairs on the back of their neck standing up, or the omen of the dark, moonless night in which they embarked. They even tied up old Welby Blastbarrel, the night guard for the Barrows, and his retinue, so they could not stop them or call for help. They lit their torches, and as a group charged into the shadows of the crypt buried in the Barrows.
Merric has trouble remembering everything from there. He can remember glimpses and flashes. The ground opened up, and skeletons poured out. Shadows struck out at them. The pitiless laughter of…something watching and striking out at them. One by one, his friends fell; their lifeforce devoured by the shadows, Falton’s screams melting into a garbled mess as the skeletons pulled him apart, the hysterical giggles of Anlyse as she plunged her spear into the same quivering liquid flesh mound that devoured her, Corton crying as some pale creature ran it’s spidery fingers across his face and pulling his mouth up to some kind of embrace….
Merric still remembers the bright light of the Rural Knight’s blade cutting through the darkness, and his screams of fury and anguish as he cut through the darkness. Screaming for them to run, the Rural Knight struck down foul beast after foul monster. Instead, the few surviving members of the Brigade charged forward, emotions giving way to a numbness of purpose. If they turned back now, all their friend’s deaths would be meaningless they cried. And so they moved into the final chamber where some obsidian encrusted knight stood, blade of the cold night in one hand, some inundating stone artifact in the other. Before he could comprehend what was happening, the Shadow Knight was cutting through his friends, and burying his blade in Merric’s stomach. The world faded to black as the light and darkness sung above him in a clash both horrifying and wondrous.
He came to in his bed, bandages wrapped around his stomach. The Rural Knight was gone, to chase after the Shadow Knight and his artifact. What Merric learned from the elders was the artifact that danced in his mind, a stone star that shimmered as if made of water and the heat of flames, had been sealed away by Maren long ago. The Rural Knight was attempting to get permission to open the crypt, and with the power he had, destroy the Nictis Craft before the Shadow Knight could get it. The reason why he had not been allowed in, and why the Rural Knight had listened, was that as long as no one disturbed the crypt, and fed fresh blood and souls into the Nictis Craft, it was safe and secure. The Rural Knight was asking permission to go in and research further, but even that was considered too dangerous. When Merric and the Hill Brigade charged into the Barrows, they broke the seal on the Shadow Knight and gave him the fodder needed to charge up the Nictis Craft. The Rural Knight rushed to stop them as soon as he heard what the Brigade had done, but Merric was the only survivor. And the Shadow Knight and the artifact? Gone. The Rural Knight severed the Shadow Knight’s arm that held the craft, which created a rift that sucked the artifact into some other part of the world, and the Shadow Knight fled. The Rural Knight carried Merric back to the village, and healed his wound, leaving only a pale scar across his stomach. The Rural Knight then departed the village.
All that was left was what to do about Merric. Halflings do not believe in executions, so even with the most sacred of rules being broken, they would not kill him. Instead, they stripped him of his family name and banished him from the village, with only a bag of food and his clothes to on his back. Heartbroken and guilt-ridden, he departed.
Slowly, Merric made his way across the Sword Coast. He soon became known among the common folk for his passionate defense of the downtrodden and outcasts, and the folk with nary two coppers to their name. He protected towns from goblin attacks, chased off wolves, and road shotgun on caravan bands. Eventually, he made his way to Waterdeep, and the loud, boisterous city kept him plenty busy. He made his home in the Field Ward, and has become well known among the residents there as a man to turn to when help is needed.
Now, at age 24, he resides in a small single room house on Shanty Lane in the Field Ward. Bright eyed and friendly, he spends his days guarding food bins, chasing down monsters, and connecting with adventuring parties to protect the city and its inhabitants. He also is known for painting parts of the city as gifts to his neighbors and friends. He keeps his ear to the floor for any news of the Nictis Craft, or the Shadow Knight who struck him down the first time. He hopes to see his friend the Rural Knight, but knows it is unlikely.
Merric is a little over three feet tall (three feet, three inches) and weighs around 50 lbs. Slightly on the stout side, he is burly for a Halfling. This hides a quickness of foot and speed with which he moves. He has neck length sandy blond hair, stuck under a brown leather cap with wildflowers woven into it (to keep the bad fairies away, he says). His eyes are a bright blue that often seems to be dancing with humor. He wears a white long-sleeved tunic, a green vest made of a light leather, and chainmail over top of it. His breeches are a dark brown, as are his boots. He has his trusty rapier strapped to his side, and a small wooden shield. To complete his outfit, when travelling, he has his backpack strapped with bedroll, pots, and an errant paintbrush sticking out.
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ShadowenSnores in the morningLoserdomRegistered Userregular
Update: of course because we're in Waterdeep it was relatively easy to take me to a temple and resurrect me (at the cost of all our reward from the last job)
But it was very traumatic in the moment! And the bad guys got away with the macguffin!
My only character death in D&D was in the very first session, where we were all entered into an exhibition battle royale thing, and before I even got a turn, an NPC rolled three 20s in a row against my paladin and the DM ruled that he died instantly. And then I sat there for like, forty minutes watching everyone else play D&D before I was like, "oh right, I can leave!" And then I got up, drove home, and never came back. Which, mostly at the time I was annoyed, but I feel like any campaign operating under those rules probably wasn't worth sticking out in the first place
I tried to whip up a bunch of my old PCs in Hero Forge just to see, ya know? And I had this one tielfing bard with a particularly distinctive feature, only one horn. And the character wore like a cavalier hat cuz the horn swooped across and back the one side and so instead of the feather you just had his horn. Anyway I tried to find a similar thing in Heroforge and it just wasn't quite working quite as well as I was really trying to make it work so I messed around with some other stuff and long story short
Meet Willa Bloodsong
I've never had a D&D PC have a sexuality before, but Willa is very clearly queer as fuck and I'm here for it.
I'm thinking about putting together a game of Armor Astir for some local friends. My dream is to also incorporate Firebrands as well since it deals a lot with the themes of rebellion, piloting, and messy entanglements. But I am wondering how I could link the two mechanically? My first-glance idea is if two characters have a scene together to begin or advance a gravity clock in Armor Astir.
My only concern is that completing gravity clocks marks advancement for PCs, so I am a bit worried about the potential for abusing the system? I mean I guess the adult thing to do is simply explain all this to the players and trust them not to be complete buttholes about it.
My only character death in D&D was in the very first session, where we were all entered into an exhibition battle royale thing, and before I even got a turn, an NPC rolled three 20s in a row against my paladin and the DM ruled that he died instantly. And then I sat there for like, forty minutes watching everyone else play D&D before I was like, "oh right, I can leave!" And then I got up, drove home, and never came back. Which, mostly at the time I was annoyed, but I feel like any campaign operating under those rules probably wasn't worth sticking out in the first place
We should start a club. My first character death was also my first session in a 3.5 campaign.
I made a Level 1 Ranger archer dude. First 5 or 10 minutes there's a fireball trap and I must make a reflex save. I roll a 15 on the die, no longer remember what my save was (probably 16 or 17) but it's not good enough to make the save so my dude takes the full 5d6 of damage. It ends up somewhere between 15 and 20 points of damage for my duder with like 6 HP. GM says by massive damage rules I die with no recourse. So I spend the rest of the session making Dave the Barbarian.
Session 2, Level 1 Dave the Barbarian comes in at the beginning of the session to save the day when the party is outnumbered in battle. He gets to swing (and miss) with his greatsword, then is Mind Controlled by an NPC wizard and fails a couple Will saves (the highest I rolled was 10). GM says my Barbarian is now totally Dominated and becomes an NPC. Total time: 10-15 minutes. Dave the Barbarian goes on to become a DMPC that is way stronger and more powerful than the entire party combined. The rest of the campaign will turn out to be Dave the DMPC going around doing cool shit while the party tags along and watches.
Session 3, I make a Level 1 sneaky-type character that I don't remember at all. Probably because in the first 10 minutes of this session the entire party is hit by a trap, there's no save (except Dave the DMPC is unaffected), and we're all morphed into completely different races. I go from a Human or something rogue to a Lumi. So now I can't sneak because I give off light and I'm not allowed to lie or be even a little dishonest by omission, or allow anybody in the party to do it. I try, though I don't remember much more beyond this point in the campaign, only of a party member who became tiny standing on my shoulders under my head shooting arrows at somebody, but either I left the campaign or it fell apart right after this.
I would refuse to ever play with this GM again. It was my first experience of D&D, after trying to play for 4 or 5 years.
... Wow. That's fucking ridiculous. I'll just never understand some people.
Like, my wife's first game ever, the DM was introducing her character to an ongoing campaign, and decided that her character would be a captive of the next set of enemies we ran into. Which, okay, cool - makes sense. So he decides that she'd start off tied up in the bottom of one of their boats - again, makes sense - but that she'd be unable to break the ropes holding her - despite her being a fairly strong Bardarian, which makes less sense.
Which means she'd only join in after the battle.
And then he made the battle this really long, involved affair.
So her first game was basically sitting there, watching the rest of us play for a good half of the session, meanwhile we're all asking, "Uh, when does she come in?"
As well as my butcherrogue chef, perfectly normal chef
My necromancer is quite a bit less... ominous
I bought the digital Heroforge minis and had my coworker print a couple of each of them for me and they turned out great. If I had known how supports get printed for them though, or how much of a pain in the ass they are to remove, I'd have designed them differently
This campaign is over, and we wrapped up with a "what happens to everyone over the next year?"
Krrt went back to his people and got a lot of counseling about his death experience and came away with kind of a Zen attitude towards it (it helps when you know where you're going the next time you die)
We're rolling all new ones for Descent into Avernus but I will keep Krrt in the pocket for a future one
You don't need to read it all. You're going to be alright. There's always "too much" material for any DM to read, regardless of how experienced they are. Start with a particular part of the setting (maybe not Sharn? If you'd prefer to work with a slightly less filled-in slate you could pick a different part of Khorvaire and not worry about most of what's been written about it).
The problem is my previous dm is going to be a player and he's one of those... Super detail oriented types. He's certainly read all the background material for previous versions of eberron dozens of times and probably has a 6 page backstory for his character already.
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GrogMy sword is only steelin a useful shape.Registered Userregular
The problem is my previous dm is going to be a player and he's one of those... Super detail oriented types. He's certainly read all the background material for previous versions of eberron dozens of times and probably has a 6 page backstory for his character already.
Get him to be your lore-guy? Like, tell him which bits you want to specifically know about to do your end and get him to give you cliff notes, then if anything outside that comes up get him to answer any questions that come up.
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Tynnanseldom correct, never unsureRegistered Userregular
I feel for you there, but please don't try to force yourself to do the same when that's his specialty. It's 100% valid to let your players define parts of the lore that matter to them. It's also 100% valid to say "Okay, that might be what the book has to say about the setting but we are playing our game here. The book sets the stage but we decide how to fill it in."
The most important thing about Eberron is the noir feel. Yes there's a ton of detail about Sharn and the Dragonmarked Houses and the Last War and the Draconic Prophecy and and and, but you know what? You're the one putting on the DM hat, and that means you get to decide how much of what's already written matters to your game. If the old DM wants to be a player in your game, he needs to take his DM hat off and do his best to not metagame or warp the game to his whims.
Hmm ok, so my Loxodon Paladin is going to ride astride his faithful Hippo mount, but I am unsure if I want him to be a big 2 handed Glaive dude or like a sword and board guy
The problem is my previous dm is going to be a player and he's one of those... Super detail oriented types. He's certainly read all the background material for previous versions of eberron dozens of times and probably has a 6 page backstory for his character already.
Get him to be your lore-guy? Like, tell him which bits you want to specifically know about to do your end and get him to give you cliff notes, then if anything outside that comes up get him to answer any questions that come up.
Speaking as someone who has been that guy, he will be super excited to help out in this way and he's not going to judge you for it. If at some point during a session, someone asks a question and you say "I have no idea, what's going on with this, detail guy?", that is going to be the highlight of his day.
Establish with the person running the difference between player knowledge and character knowledge. So you won’t have a player do something dumb out of ignorance, have it explained when appropriate that your character would know something relevant about the setting.
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StraightziHere we may reign secure, and in my choice,To reign is worth ambition though in HellRegistered Userregular
The real game is to trick him into playing some sort of historian character so you can lean on him for information as a part of the game itself
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It's all fun and games till you let the recording run long enough to see them die again.
Also technically you can make the illusion say whatever you want so you could totally tell them about what's happening to you today and have them respond just like you think they would respond if they weren't dead and its your fault! If you have them try to hug you though they'll just pass through and ruin the illusion.
D&D Black Mirror about the dangers of new spells.
And then I... rolled a 1 on the next save
Folks this is my first character death and I'm not feeling... good about it
Print up another page with "Social Contract" written on it and tear it up in their face.
edit: imagine it with a little trill, like a pigeon
Condolences.
In my experience, the best salve for losing a character is having another character you're super excited to try out all ready to go.
We've all had our Blackleaf moment, it's okay
Origin ID: Discgolfer27
Untappd ID: Discgolfer1981
Only when it's serious.
His skill with combat and martial prowess was noticed after, at the age of 10, he chased three goblins away from his youngest sister, Lidda, wielding nothing more than a pot lid and a broomstick. His love of Cyrrollalee was in full display in his easy friendships he struck up with all in the town. This devotion, his desire to protect others, and his adventurous self was channeled into the town militia. For most halflings, this would have been the start of a productive life as a stoutheart guardian and farmer, and would have been for Merric, if not for Maren’s Barrows.
Maren’s Barrows, located two miles from the town, was a verboten and partially sacred place for the Halflings of Maren’s Eve. The Barrows were covered in choked dirt and dried weeds, with a wailing cave entrance at the bottom of the largest mound. Originally the burial place for all who passed in the village, centuries ago it changed. Something buried deep within stirred, and was sealed inside by Maren. It was now considered the sacred duty of the village to watch the Barrows, never enter, and keep others out of it.
When Merric was 18, a brave Paladin human, soft in words and strong of heart, came into the town and upheaved his life. The Rural Knight, as he was known, captivated the young men and women of the town, training many of them in more in-depth combat. So enamored with the Rural Knight was Merric that he even tried in vain to become a paladin of Cyrrollalee, but sadly he did not have the skills necessary to connect with Cyrrollalee. Still, he studied combat with the Rural Knight, and along with the other youths of the Hill Brigade (as they called themselves), were driven to strike down any evil the Rural Knight would point them at. This was first the goblins living in the forest nearby, who often tried to raid their farms.
Soon it would turn to the Barrows. The Rural Knight had come because of an evil artifact that was buried within in it, that was calling more and more evil energy to the cave. He spent many an evening speaking with the elders of the town, trying to convince them of the dangers within the Barrows. He presented research, recounted old tales of the darkness within, pointed to astrological signs, but could not be given the permission by the elders to enter the cave. It was forbidden, and that meant no one could go in, ever. Still, every night the Rural Knight would present his case, but be shot down. If he ever became dismayed at being told no, he never said anything.
Full of righteous fervor, the Hill Brigade decided that the tradition was now a chain that must be broken. Wanting to do what they felt was right, and impress the Rural Knight, they marched as a group to the Barrows. Lead by Merric, they ignored all the hairs on the back of their neck standing up, or the omen of the dark, moonless night in which they embarked. They even tied up old Welby Blastbarrel, the night guard for the Barrows, and his retinue, so they could not stop them or call for help. They lit their torches, and as a group charged into the shadows of the crypt buried in the Barrows.
Merric has trouble remembering everything from there. He can remember glimpses and flashes. The ground opened up, and skeletons poured out. Shadows struck out at them. The pitiless laughter of…something watching and striking out at them. One by one, his friends fell; their lifeforce devoured by the shadows, Falton’s screams melting into a garbled mess as the skeletons pulled him apart, the hysterical giggles of Anlyse as she plunged her spear into the same quivering liquid flesh mound that devoured her, Corton crying as some pale creature ran it’s spidery fingers across his face and pulling his mouth up to some kind of embrace….
Merric still remembers the bright light of the Rural Knight’s blade cutting through the darkness, and his screams of fury and anguish as he cut through the darkness. Screaming for them to run, the Rural Knight struck down foul beast after foul monster. Instead, the few surviving members of the Brigade charged forward, emotions giving way to a numbness of purpose. If they turned back now, all their friend’s deaths would be meaningless they cried. And so they moved into the final chamber where some obsidian encrusted knight stood, blade of the cold night in one hand, some inundating stone artifact in the other. Before he could comprehend what was happening, the Shadow Knight was cutting through his friends, and burying his blade in Merric’s stomach. The world faded to black as the light and darkness sung above him in a clash both horrifying and wondrous.
He came to in his bed, bandages wrapped around his stomach. The Rural Knight was gone, to chase after the Shadow Knight and his artifact. What Merric learned from the elders was the artifact that danced in his mind, a stone star that shimmered as if made of water and the heat of flames, had been sealed away by Maren long ago. The Rural Knight was attempting to get permission to open the crypt, and with the power he had, destroy the Nictis Craft before the Shadow Knight could get it. The reason why he had not been allowed in, and why the Rural Knight had listened, was that as long as no one disturbed the crypt, and fed fresh blood and souls into the Nictis Craft, it was safe and secure. The Rural Knight was asking permission to go in and research further, but even that was considered too dangerous. When Merric and the Hill Brigade charged into the Barrows, they broke the seal on the Shadow Knight and gave him the fodder needed to charge up the Nictis Craft. The Rural Knight rushed to stop them as soon as he heard what the Brigade had done, but Merric was the only survivor. And the Shadow Knight and the artifact? Gone. The Rural Knight severed the Shadow Knight’s arm that held the craft, which created a rift that sucked the artifact into some other part of the world, and the Shadow Knight fled. The Rural Knight carried Merric back to the village, and healed his wound, leaving only a pale scar across his stomach. The Rural Knight then departed the village.
All that was left was what to do about Merric. Halflings do not believe in executions, so even with the most sacred of rules being broken, they would not kill him. Instead, they stripped him of his family name and banished him from the village, with only a bag of food and his clothes to on his back. Heartbroken and guilt-ridden, he departed.
Slowly, Merric made his way across the Sword Coast. He soon became known among the common folk for his passionate defense of the downtrodden and outcasts, and the folk with nary two coppers to their name. He protected towns from goblin attacks, chased off wolves, and road shotgun on caravan bands. Eventually, he made his way to Waterdeep, and the loud, boisterous city kept him plenty busy. He made his home in the Field Ward, and has become well known among the residents there as a man to turn to when help is needed.
Now, at age 24, he resides in a small single room house on Shanty Lane in the Field Ward. Bright eyed and friendly, he spends his days guarding food bins, chasing down monsters, and connecting with adventuring parties to protect the city and its inhabitants. He also is known for painting parts of the city as gifts to his neighbors and friends. He keeps his ear to the floor for any news of the Nictis Craft, or the Shadow Knight who struck him down the first time. He hopes to see his friend the Rural Knight, but knows it is unlikely.
Merric is a little over three feet tall (three feet, three inches) and weighs around 50 lbs. Slightly on the stout side, he is burly for a Halfling. This hides a quickness of foot and speed with which he moves. He has neck length sandy blond hair, stuck under a brown leather cap with wildflowers woven into it (to keep the bad fairies away, he says). His eyes are a bright blue that often seems to be dancing with humor. He wears a white long-sleeved tunic, a green vest made of a light leather, and chainmail over top of it. His breeches are a dark brown, as are his boots. He has his trusty rapier strapped to his side, and a small wooden shield. To complete his outfit, when travelling, he has his backpack strapped with bedroll, pots, and an errant paintbrush sticking out.
But it was very traumatic in the moment! And the bad guys got away with the macguffin!
You know what they say: anything that happens once will never happen again... but anything that happens twice will surely happen a third time.
I've never had a D&D PC have a sexuality before, but Willa is very clearly queer as fuck and I'm here for it.
Makes sense, though
As well as my butcher rogue chef, perfectly normal chef
My only concern is that completing gravity clocks marks advancement for PCs, so I am a bit worried about the potential for abusing the system? I mean I guess the adult thing to do is simply explain all this to the players and trust them not to be complete buttholes about it.
Gonna use one of the artificer builds to make a Vistani tinkerer type old guy.
We should start a club. My first character death was also my first session in a 3.5 campaign.
I made a Level 1 Ranger archer dude. First 5 or 10 minutes there's a fireball trap and I must make a reflex save. I roll a 15 on the die, no longer remember what my save was (probably 16 or 17) but it's not good enough to make the save so my dude takes the full 5d6 of damage. It ends up somewhere between 15 and 20 points of damage for my duder with like 6 HP. GM says by massive damage rules I die with no recourse. So I spend the rest of the session making Dave the Barbarian.
Session 2, Level 1 Dave the Barbarian comes in at the beginning of the session to save the day when the party is outnumbered in battle. He gets to swing (and miss) with his greatsword, then is Mind Controlled by an NPC wizard and fails a couple Will saves (the highest I rolled was 10). GM says my Barbarian is now totally Dominated and becomes an NPC. Total time: 10-15 minutes. Dave the Barbarian goes on to become a DMPC that is way stronger and more powerful than the entire party combined. The rest of the campaign will turn out to be Dave the DMPC going around doing cool shit while the party tags along and watches.
Session 3, I make a Level 1 sneaky-type character that I don't remember at all. Probably because in the first 10 minutes of this session the entire party is hit by a trap, there's no save (except Dave the DMPC is unaffected), and we're all morphed into completely different races. I go from a Human or something rogue to a Lumi. So now I can't sneak because I give off light and I'm not allowed to lie or be even a little dishonest by omission, or allow anybody in the party to do it. I try, though I don't remember much more beyond this point in the campaign, only of a party member who became tiny standing on my shoulders under my head shooting arrows at somebody, but either I left the campaign or it fell apart right after this.
I would refuse to ever play with this GM again. It was my first experience of D&D, after trying to play for 4 or 5 years.
Like, my wife's first game ever, the DM was introducing her character to an ongoing campaign, and decided that her character would be a captive of the next set of enemies we ran into. Which, okay, cool - makes sense. So he decides that she'd start off tied up in the bottom of one of their boats - again, makes sense - but that she'd be unable to break the ropes holding her - despite her being a fairly strong Bardarian, which makes less sense.
Which means she'd only join in after the battle.
And then he made the battle this really long, involved affair.
So her first game was basically sitting there, watching the rest of us play for a good half of the session, meanwhile we're all asking, "Uh, when does she come in?"
Steam: Elvenshae // PSN: Elvenshae // WotC: Elvenshae
Wilds of Aladrion: [https://forums.penny-arcade.com/discussion/comment/43159014/#Comment_43159014]Ellandryn[/url]
My necromancer is quite a bit less... ominous
I bought the digital Heroforge minis and had my coworker print a couple of each of them for me and they turned out great. If I had known how supports get printed for them though, or how much of a pain in the ass they are to remove, I'd have designed them differently
Krrt went back to his people and got a lot of counseling about his death experience and came away with kind of a Zen attitude towards it (it helps when you know where you're going the next time you die)
We're rolling all new ones for Descent into Avernus but I will keep Krrt in the pocket for a future one
I don't have the attention span for this.
I think I will be an awful dm.
You don't need to read it all. You're going to be alright. There's always "too much" material for any DM to read, regardless of how experienced they are. Start with a particular part of the setting (maybe not Sharn? If you'd prefer to work with a slightly less filled-in slate you could pick a different part of Khorvaire and not worry about most of what's been written about it).
Get him to be your lore-guy? Like, tell him which bits you want to specifically know about to do your end and get him to give you cliff notes, then if anything outside that comes up get him to answer any questions that come up.
The most important thing about Eberron is the noir feel. Yes there's a ton of detail about Sharn and the Dragonmarked Houses and the Last War and the Draconic Prophecy and and and, but you know what? You're the one putting on the DM hat, and that means you get to decide how much of what's already written matters to your game. If the old DM wants to be a player in your game, he needs to take his DM hat off and do his best to not metagame or warp the game to his whims.
Speaking as someone who has been that guy, he will be super excited to help out in this way and he's not going to judge you for it. If at some point during a session, someone asks a question and you say "I have no idea, what's going on with this, detail guy?", that is going to be the highlight of his day.
DIESEL
Against the Fall of Night Playtest
Nasty, Brutish, and Short