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Submissions must be stories that relate in some way to tabletop role playing games, such as D&D and Pathfinder.

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Text transcriptions of screenshots are encouraged for accessibility, but not required.

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so, this isn't something that happened in game, but this is about VTTs, so i think (and hope) it fits here.

> been trying to find a good VTT that works well in mobile for months
> can't self host because ISP is dumb and won't let me make a server
> don't have money to buy anything, not that i would anyway since most paid vtts dont even work on mobile
> tried a bunch of actual VTTs, some of them don't let me customize the movement (in pf2e diagonals work differently from dnd, and most vtts use dnd as a base), some won't let me import my own maps, and most (if not all) won't even run anywhere higher than 2fps
> gave up trying to find an actual VTT, started thinking more creatively.
> what would i need in real life? a piece of paper with a map printed on it and some small objects to place on top.
> so what i would need for a VTT is exactly that
> immediately think of google slides, which i remember being used similarly in some random youtube video... and it doesn't update on mobile unless you close and reopen the file
> think of giving up and just opening a normal image editor and share screen through discord
> sounds really dumb, but could work... if i wanted to give my players and i a headache while trying to figure out where they wanna go every Stride action
> think think think...
> remember google slides, and how good it wouldve been if it was fully available on mobile
> remember about canva, a google slides alternative
> IT HAS MOBILE SUPPORT!!!!!!!!!!!! but it's laggier than anything ive tried so far...
> literal months later
> playing minecraft with my players through geyser (one of them doesn't have a computer, and geyser lets people who play in other platforms join java servers)
> finally realise minecraft is the ultimate creative cross platform option for literally anything you can think of
> i create a creative server in aternos for us to use as a VTT
> i know a bit of command blocks, so i can do a lot of stuff to help make playing a bit easier
> we will play tomorrow, and i might even record it to post on youtube or something. i'm so happy

thanks mojang, i can finally play pathfinder with my friends again

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Just posted this to the subreddit so I figured here too for posterity:

Be me

Be CN catfolk bard.

Be stuck in a nation that isn't too kind to beastfolk.

Passing through village with Adventurer's guild.

Go to adventurer's guild for work.

Only job they have for me is 'rat extermination'.

Job offers 5 copper. Not per rat. Just 5 flat.

"Job with a free lunch!" says guild clerk with a sneer.

WellFuckYouToo.jpg

"Fine I'll take it."

Get to home with rats.

Old lady lives there.

She's nice but poor.

Apparently she's a hoarder because a cursory look inside shows over 200 goddamn rats!

WTF! 5 Coppers for this?!

Fine.

Use Minor Illusion to throw my voice into the cellar to mimic a lion's roar.

Roll 19 Performance, not bad!

RAT TSUNAMI FLOODS OUT OF OLD LADY'S HOUSE INTO THE STREET!

Not a single rat left in the home.

Lady looks nonplussed but is grateful the rats are gone. Signs my completion document to get paid.

Strut to the guild for my 5 coppers feeling like the most dashing motherfucker around while the entire rest of the village now has a rat problem.

Buy cheap wine with the easiest 5 coppers ever earned.

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Be the party, a ragtag bunch of misfits living in a small town near the border of a peaceful neutral good Kingdom.

Do not be the Dark Empire, ruled by an Undead Wizard for the last 500 years, on the other side of the border.

Rumours of war, armies passing through, we sign up to fight.

At first the campaign goes well, skeleton armies show no tactics or strategy, but their numbers start to tell against us.

Demoralised by fighting our own, raised as undead, running low on hope and food, we end up retreating.

Decide to stay behind and form a resistance group in the Dark Empire side of the border.

Infiltrate a settlement of miners, get jobs in various associated service industries e.g. smelting, entertainment, whoring - stuff the undead are no good at.

I'm playing the bard, so I'm in entertainment for the miners. It's about 50/50 living/undead in the mines. Undead for the grunt work, living to instruct them on how to. Some vampires in town as well, adding to the number of customers.

Singing songs, playing the lute, learning some local mining songs from the days before the Evil Empire took this town.

Little bit too good at appealing to nostalgia, miners riot, crucify the vampires, trap the undead in the mine and explode it with oil barrels and naturally occuring gas.

Run for it with the rest of the party, find another settlement.

Try to fit in as a bard, but my fame preceded me, captured.

Dragged in chains to the nearest prison, which is in a grim black stone castle.

Lightning nearby, followed by thunder as the doors slam closed behind me.

Beatings, interogation.

Resist all the attempts to get me to spill what I know, eventually they send me to the capital city called Rumwun Owone, to be tortured by the Lich himself.

They lock a cage around my head, with a starving rat in an adjoining cage, and threaten to let the rat eat my face if I don't love the Undead Wizard lord.

Lich-erally 1984.

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submitted 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) by Zagorath@aussie.zone to c/rpggreentext@ttrpg.network
 
 

Transcription:

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I'm working on a fantasy world. My nod to being unique are the elves who all wear masks, regardless of gender.

Why? I think it's cool.

But I can't think of why they'd be wearing masks. Help?


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The problem with it being a "cultural thing" is that the masks are intended to be a racial trait.
A race having the same culture all over the world, despite geographical separation, surroundings, or history is not only lazy writing, it is downright bad writing.

There needs to be a reason the entire race does it.
Like a curse from a god ...or this:

"I have traveled across the world studying different people and cultures and everywhere I went, every civilization of elves wore masks.
Many of the different cultures have different beliefs and explanations for wearing them, but I believe I have found the core truth.

There are millions of different combinations of human facial features. A human could go their entire lives without seeing another person that looked the same as them.
That is true of every race, orc, Halfling, dwarf, or gnome. Those the elves sometimes refer to as "The Unmasked."
But not elves.

Those who have seen the face of an elf beneath the mask know that they are a uniquely beautiful race.
There faces are perfectly fair, proportional, and symmetrical in every way.
But that horribly limits the different combinations of facial features.

This is compounded by the incredibly long lifespan of the elves.
Imagine if the first girl you kissed bore the same face as your grandmother, who looks the same as your daughter.
Elves wear masks because their uniquely beautiful faces are not, in fact, unique."

~ Excerpt from "Unmasking Elvish Society: a study of Elf culture" by celebrated anthropologist Nativea Godgraced.


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"Different elvish cultures adopt different customs regarding masks.
Some have a strict caste system enforced by the masks.
Many impart symbols on the mask, displaying information about the wearer.
Their title, role, gender, and even their history can be displayed on a mask.
One culture went the other way, the higher up in society an elf was, the simpler and more plain their mask. Their leader's mask was completely devoid of detail.

Some tribes of feral elves incorporated animal aspects into their masks.
Warriors of those tribes wore truly fearsome masks when fighting, prompting rumors of monsters that never truly were.

Almost all elvish cultures have a naming ceremony imparting simple cloth masks unto their young.

I continue to be amazed at the complexity as I explore the varying customs surrounding the masks of the elves."

~ Excerpt from "Unmasking Elvish Society: a study of Elf culture" by celebrated anthropologist Nativea Godgraced.


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"I came to a revelation this morning.
As I have been staying with this particular tribe of elves, they loaned me a plain mask bearing the simple mark "guest" although I suspect there is another connotation to it.
This suspicion came from the way many elves who see me seem to chuckle and do their common head tilt and nod that is the elvish smile.

I imagine the secondary meaning of the mask is something akin to "one who cannot manage to take care of his mask.
The only other mask like it I have seen was an ill-fitting one worn by a rather sullen elf child walking alone through the village.
Perhaps the child's own mask was lost or damaged.

As I write this, I realize I have not once seen an elf wearing a damaged or worn out mask.
Whether this is because of continual upkeep or multiple masks, the observation is worth noting.

On to the revelation:
Anyone who has met a number of elves can tell you that many, but not all, have a sort of arrogance to them. They carry themselves with a form of disapproving stiffness at times and at other times it seems more of a dismissive casual disregard.

As I wore my mask and lived among them, this apparent arrogance dropped away and I found them to be a very warm and inviting people.

It occurred to me that covering one's face with a mask to an elf is like covering one's genitals to a human.
Imagine a drunken lout propped up in the entrance of a tavern waving his parts at passing women.
Now imagine your reaction to that drunken lout.
Would you not exhibit the same disapproving stiffness or casually dismiss them as a fool?"

~ Excerpt from "Unmasking Elvish Society: a study of Elf culture" by celebrated anthropologist Nativea Godgraced.


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"After much coaching from a matron, and a great deal of support from a group of children, I fashioned my own mask today.
It is a simple stretched leather mask with the typical cloth insert, but it fits quite well and I am proud of my work.
I was considering marking my mask with the "guest" symbol, similar to the one that was loaned to me, but the matron stopped me.
I did not want to mark it with anything presumptuous but at the same time wanted to feel included.
In the end we decided on a plain mask adorned with a symbol that means 'The Visitor.'"

~ Excerpt from "Unmasking Elvish Society: a study of Elf culture" by celebrated anthropologist Nativea Godgraced.


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Today I saw them in battle.
Two ogres had wandered into their territory, although I would be hard pressed to tell you the boundaries.
I held back in the trees while the patrol approached.

A single elf, the squad leader, approached the two ogres while the others spread out into the forest.
I could not hear what he said to them, but one ogre responded faster than the other I thought anything that big could move.
A massive hand gripped the elf by the shoulder with a sickening snapping sound as a dozen arrows appeared in the bodies of both ogres.

The second ogre turned to charge towards a nearby cluster of trees and was felled by an arrow to the eye.
The first ogre raised its massive fist up to bring down upon the elf gripped limply in its other hand.
Arrows peppered the ogre's hide as a horrible, wheezing, gurgling roar tore from the elf squad leader.

The fearless masked elf brought up their sword and viciously stabbed the underside of the beast's head over and over again as the roar continued.
The two collapsed upon the forest floor. Ad when I saw the bodies, the ogre's stinking corpse had been mutilated by the sword strikes.
And despite the obvious fact that the elfish warrior had died from the wounds, in fact half of their torso had been broken, I could not bring myself to approach the fallen warrior.

The masked warrior had felled a mightier foe after receiving a mortal wound.
I must admit that I feared there might be a true element of death weaved into those masks.
Even as the blood that flowed out from beneath the mask grew cold, the eyes of the Elvish Death Mask watched the forest and I was afraid."

~ Excerpt from "Unmasking Elvish Society: a study of Elf culture" by celebrated anthropologist Nativea Godgraced.


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OP here.

Holy crap! Thank you.


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I'm getting a little motivated


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Glad you guys liked it!

Captcha: "and ucksock"
Nice term for the inner cloth layer there captcha.


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This is why I love /tg/.


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THAT is some quality write-faggin'. Damn fine journal entry, 7/10, would play with.

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Here's a narrated version on YouTube. 16:46

Text transcription in the comments.

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Transcription:

A 4chan post with a picture showing the text "I'm not sure what's going on, but my asshole is in danger!"

>Be concubine character
>High bluff but very basic combat skills and nothing for utility
>Supposed to be high level campaign but I'm adamant this is who I want to go with
>Have to be carried through every fight basically, party thoroughly annoyed
>Finally make it to dark lord's fortress
>Betray party and announce I love the dark lord and will do anything for him
>Party locked in dungeon while dark lord and me have wedding ceremony
>We retire to his chambers to consummate, at this point party telling me and DM to stop this is fucking stupid they just want to D&D not bear witness to our ERP
>The dark lord turns his back on us and I reveal myself
>Concubine opens her legs and epic level halfling rogue slides out of her ass
>This was my true character all along
>www.d20srd.org/srd/epic/skills.htm#extremelyTightSpace
>I've been rolling to stay hidden up her ass the entire campaign to get close enough to the dark lord to assassinate him
>Concubine is just a hired NPC that DM agreed probably had an anal circumference of more than 2 inches and was willing to let it slide
>One last roll
>With his legendary armour removed and his back turned he never sees me coming
>Shoot up there like a flash before he even knows what's happening
>Destroy him from the inside like a whirling dervish
>Free party from dungeons and clean up the rest of his minions
>Entire group is speechless

and that was how I saved the land

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Transcription:

A series of 4chan posts

Anonymous, 07/20/2011, 00:48

Let me tell you about necromancy, /tg/. I played a necromancer once, in what I thought was a solo game over IRC.

I went around to places where the economy was horrible, the rulers were tyrants, and the people were downtrodden.

There, hidden in cairns and crypts, I taught. I taught the people how to use the dead in their defense--and when defense was not needed, in their fields. I taught spellcraft and surgery. I taught them to think for themselves.

I overthrew tyrants, I saved civilizations. I left in my wake prosperous, well-fed democracies, populated by the living and the working dead.

Eventually, I became old. Tired. I knew that lichdom was not for me--benefits aside, I was ready to move on. I had mastered this side of death--yet there was so much more to learn, that required intimate knowledge of the other side.

Anonymous, 07/20/11, 00:48

As I prepared my final resting place, with a missive spell to go out to all my proteges, I used a simple scrying spell to view the places I had visited, once more.

What I saw surprised and disgusted me. The living once again worked the fields, instead of the schools and libraries. So-called 'good kings' once more had tyranny over the people. Ignorance and fear ruled these lands again. And bodies were cremated, even the bones, and scattered so that no necromancer could use them, for good or for ill.

I traced back the lines of fate to find what had caused such disasters, what had destroyed the lands which I had saved.

Adventurers, So-called saviors, hunting down the most powerful necromancer in the world. The Arch-Lich, they called me. I wasn't even dead! The stories they circulated claimed I had lived a thousand-thousand years, spreading misery and the walking dead in my wake. Misery, most certainly not, and I was scarcely sixty years old, though my mentor had certainly lived a long time, and his mentor before him. I was not even a lich! Not long after I discovered this, my body failing, one organ at the time, this group of adventurers found me.

Anonymous, 07/20/11, 00:49

I lay on my deathbed. They were expecting a fight, some cackling, evil mastermind to kill so that they could have been called heroes. They did not expect an old, bitter man who had seen his life's work destroyed because of paranoia and bigotry.

I told them what I had done, and why I had done it. I told them of my hopes and dreams, for a world where no living man would have to work, where all could spend time doing what they truely desired--study, advancement, even the simple pleasures of a small farm and family, if they so wished. A world free of petty tyrants, where each man could vote for the ruler of their town or their nation.

In the end, I cried. For my proteges, good men dead at the hands of these heroes. For my plans, dashed against the rocks of hatred. For myself, an old, broken dying man with a wasted life.

As it turns out, my DM was using me as the BBEG for another campaign he was running... and according to him, I succeeded beautifully.

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Sir Bearington (aussie.zone)
submitted 2 years ago* (last edited 2 years ago) by Zagorath@aussie.zone to c/rpggreentext@ttrpg.network
 
 

Transcription:

A 4chan post with a picture of a bear sitting at a table with humans, playing an RPG.

Anonymous 09/25/11(Sun)23:15 No. 16426614
File1317006946.jpg-(96 KB, 634x456, sir bearington.jpg)

>Make a bear character in D&D 3.5
>DM laughs
>Make bear a rogue, put every point I can into disguise
>Prestige class as a spy to get more disguise
>DM says I can't speak english
>Max out bluff
>By growling and gesturing, I can fake speaking a language I don't speak (english)

>use money to hire a butler NPC
>Give him magical item to let him speak bear

"GROWWWWWL"
"An excellent suggestion, Mister Bearington. We really should ask the group to investigate the Black Marsh

>Over the course of the game, be knighted as Sir Bearington
>Queen holds a dinner in my honor.
>A guest becomes the first man to ever make a perception check that can beat my disguise
>Shouts out loud
"HEY, THAT GUY'S NOT A GUY, HE'S JUST A ABEAR!"
>Man is escorted out of the castle while the guards apologise profusely for the indignity
"We're so sorry, Sir Bearington, very sorry for this man's behavior"
"ROAR" *shrug*