September 2nd, 2005

breeden

(no subject)

Another day of gaming with Twitchy the elf!

As long-time readers may recall, the campaign's premise is that we all have amnesia, and are only slowly learning what we can do. (Seriously, half a dozen sessions, and my only known skills are Hide and Knowledge- Political History. How sad izzat? Based on this, our GM has reduced the rolls needed to establish a skill, just in the interests of moving the campaign along.) Most of us have figured out our classes by now, with a lot of help from the GM, but there's a few holdouts, such as Gnomey the gnome. Our GM has been breaking himself trying to come up with ways to hint at Gnomey's class, but it just hasn't been happening, although by process of elimination, Gnomey'd at least knocked off a few options.

In today's installment, Twitchy was captured by the enemy, as he has yet to remember how to sneak gracefully. The enemy did not, alas, believe Twitchy's claim to be a lost life insurance salesman. (Okay, it was a long shot.) A few minutes later, Gnomey followed suit. Fortunately, the rest of the party decided not to keep marching single-file into the arms of the foe before it got silly. In their only successful roll of the evening, Twitchy and Gnomey managed to untie each other's bonds simultaneously, and leapt into action. Not long afterwards, Twitchy was disembowled. No, not killed. Just standing there holding his innards in with one hand. And looking outraged, of course, because it's Twitchy.

Gnomey: Now, does this...oh...fill me with rage? You know, like a berserk rage?

GM: You're filled with rage, but you don't become a snarling ball of white-hot gnomish fury, no.

Gnomey: DAMN!

(pause)

Gnomey (resignedly): Okay, do I get an urge to write a song about it?

GM (as the strains of the Hallelujah Chorus practically drift from on high): YES! The lyrics of the epic disembowlment of Twitchy are forming in the back of your head right this minute!

Gnomey: Goddamnit, I'm a bard.

Twitchy (holding guts in): I'm glad to have been a catalyst for this journey of self-discovery...

We'll draw a merciful veil over the rest of the evening. Twitchy lived, due in large part to Gnomey's astonishing skill at biting enemy ankles. Endlessly. Until they eventually died. Bards, man, I tell ya.
breeden

(no subject)

Y'all may have noticed that I haven't said anything here about New Orleans. Nor, after this brief comment, will I again.

I'll do you all the courtesy of assuming that you feel as any decent human being would feel, and are giving what you are capable of giving, and I'll assume you're giving me the same courtesy. I'm an artist. I have no expertise or insight. I barely know how a levee works. I paint hamsters and talk to defective squirrels. So there is nothing I can say that will matter, that cannot be said better by those who actually know what the hell they're talking about, and I'll leave it up to them. The world needs my armchair generalling not at all.

And that's all I have to say.