Much like how last week we saw GBS dabble in creative writing, this week we see BYOB, another main forum, take on an RPG session. Many serious role playing game sessions are played every day in SA's specialized subforums, just as there are staunchly enforced story-writing contests always going, but the main forums try to apply their unique brands of irreverence to everything, especially our own goony passtimes. The front page's own PHIZ KALIFA broke ground on this very BYOB game January 2, 2020.
IT IS DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS AND MY CHARACTER IS: A FORKLIFT OPERATOR.
My class? OSHA. My race? Hooligans Local 420. I am nudest while wearing PPE and a mesh hi-viz vest. I am Tokyo Drifting a pallet of roofing tiles into tier 2 of an unsecured 5 tier stack. Even as a bystander, I am riding dirty.
Tomb of Horrors? Amazon Warehouse. Spot the differences, goblins, skeletons animated by fell magicks, Jeff Bezos just a bejeweled skull who will never stop grinning. I am making William Tell Overture sounds with my mouth, charging at an army of kobolds. I am rounding the corner with forks raised, two dripping shishkabobs of experience points.
I have gained all the levels. I am mastering new feats. I am expanding my forklift proficiencies and practicing Stunts in my downtime. Watch me open this can of beer. Watch me do on two wheels what fools cannot do on four. Watch me make sport of mastery, as I crush every combat beneath my Neverflat tires.
I am tooting my little beep-beep at intersections. I am activating my flashers while under load. I am refraining from using hand-held electronic devices while in transit and always check my blind spots.
I am carrying the team's loot on a secured, plastic-wrapped pallet. I am extending my forks to bridge a spike pit. I am holding aloft our halfing archer, that they might have a better vantage point from which to rain a volley of death.
I am a stretcher for a slain champion of Gruumsh, felled by an intransigent golem. There is a sheet tied from my forks in a crude semblence of a stretcher. I am tooting my solemn, funerary beep-beep. I am making dirge noises with my mouth as the half orc is laid to rest beneath a pile of murdered horses.
I am tearing up my OSHA 40 hour card. There is only rage, now, rage and a forklift. I am forklifting apart the walls of the Tomb of Horrors. I am pulling down the devil's mouth that surrounds Acerack's portable hole. I am erecting caution tape around that hungry void, that none should fall prey to the stupidest of all possible deaths.
I am forklifting down doors. I am forklifting mimics and treasure chests alike. I beep my toot-toot in rage. Goblins flee. Hobgoblins flee. Bugbears are destroyed, ground to a stubborn pulp by my engine of destruction, the steely extension of my will upon the world, my will to forklift, and to be forklifted in return.
Acerack sits upon a throne upon a dias, in a room accessible only through sorcery or forklifting. It is laughing, it's eye sockets two huge glittering gems, it's sharp teeth pointed crystals. "Charge, mortal!" It shrieks "Charge, if you dare!"
I cast prestidigitation and make a small cup of water spill on the forklift to clean the blood off. It's not really working so I keep casting it.
Sorry, so so sorry I'm down to cantrips.
personally when confronted with a mysterious black disk held in a demon's mouth, i would remove that portion of wall with my bulldozer. likewise, the collapsing ceiling trap would be trivial to escape from using just the bucket on my bulldozer. "im sorry, acerack" i would mutter "i keep fucking up your traps with my rad-ass bulldozer."
it has never been explored in game, but i believe we can take it as writ, that gelatenous cubes cannot defeat a bulldozer. personally i would love to have a room full of gelatenous cubes, and i am running over them with my bulldozer, tokyo drifting around the room on the slickness of the no-longer-cubes. i would continually shout "woo!" while doing this.
amulet of G'par aglow, Hershel the aloof druid elf mage half barbarian gently rests her upper back against the brick wall,
"I'm on smoko, so leave me alone"
The barbarian rolls onto the dais, his front end loaders diesel engine roars to confront the challenge. Just behind the thiefs bobcat dodges this way and that, looking to gain an advantadge on his foe.
Deep in the cave a deep red light glows. The party rests before the battle, the mage nervously checks his tire pressure.
Goons Are Great
The silent rogue raises his daggers. He has to get a perfect shot at this. It took hours to sneak through here, undetected, doing a little pickpocketing on the way just as a habit. He has a perfect strike, his arms move forward, he rolls perfectly and the blades cut through the victim's flesh, as he successfully stabs the completely flattened remains of the fiend that stood in his way when he broke through every wall.
At least the loot is a lot easier to carry.
Flames lick the cave walls. The shadow of the dragons excavator looms larger than life.
the halfling thief tries to back up and rejoin his party who eagerly await his scouting report, he holds his breath and slowly and quietly shifts his massive d9 caterpillar into reverse and backs up the hallway in hopes that his move silently skills will not alert the monsters...
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*
Farmer joins the party. He has a thresher equipped. He cares about when the corn comes in and he dislikes harvesting the corn too late. He speaks elvish.
i cast presto!digawaytion
"we're doomed!" screamed thorbeef stabbington, the 20th level fighter. "the walls continue to close in on us, and the only exit is blocked by these pits lined with poison spikes. though we are surrounded by mounds of dirt and gravel, it is beyond even my 18/00 strength to push them into the pits in time."
"my spells are useless in this lich's lair," sobbed st. thomas praygood, the 21st level cleric. "the unholy energy in this place prevents me from curing the lightest of wounds, let alone delivering us from this predicament."
"alas, my material components are all spent" intoned clancy fancymancer, the 18th level magic user. "had we but a pinch of powdered hemlock and a measly newt eye or two, I could cast bigby's pushy hand to fill these accursed chasms, allowing us to escape."
all eyes turned to stealy mcstealerson, the gangly 6th level thief whose presence in the party had brought such bitter resentment. against all odds, a smile crossed his twisted countenance as he drew the bag of holding from beneath his tattered cloak. from the bulging sack drifted a low rumble and a whiff of diesel fumes.
DM: The dragon is closing in *rolls 2 d100s* flying another 120 ft, gaining on your lowly party. What will you do?
Yvonne Deere, the mechromancer: I pull onto the shoulder, deftly leaning out the drivers side window as I scream, "GO AROUND, THIS IS AS FAST AS WE CAN GO"
Our party confronts the final boss on the lowest level of the dungeon.
We gasp in surprise as we see naught but a seemingly ordinary man, carrying a clipboard, and wearing a hard hat.
Suddenly, Elweird the elven fighter / magic user cries out, "Look at the logo on his hat. OSHA! He's an OSHA inspector!"
Our bulldozers and heavy equipment grind to a halt.
Our cleric, St. Eustace the Wavering casts equip PPE* on the party, and the fight is on.
* Proper Protective Equipment
on this season of gold rush parker schnabel has purchased a new plot of land, s1 which he and his team have nicknamed "the tomb of horrors"
You approach the Cave of Dark Mysteries. Deep inside the Stygian bowels of this maze of lightless tunnels lies the Chalice of Magnar, your only hope of defeating the Lich Lord. No, the opening of the cave is not wide enough for a bulldozer to fit. No, you can't dig. I already told you: the whole mountain is made of iron. Ok, well I guess the adventure is over. The Lich Lord wins. No, you can't take a Ziploc bag of Doritos with you. Get the fuck out.
plowing through that one portion where it's four small square rooms connected by doors that open contrary to the placement of their knobs (one swings upwards, the other swings downward, so on) i would demolish those with my bulldozer and find myself standing in Acerack's lair. A jeweled skull sits on the throne atop a raised dias, and with a twinkle from a single eye, he disintegrates my rad-ass bulldozer, leaving me armed with nothing but a Huge Sword of Litchfuckery.
Throwing caution to the winds, you run away from Acerack and get a payday loan to buy a new bulldozer.
Me: I turn undead--
DM: You can't cast Turn Undead, because the wards on this room prevent any--
Me: Um, please let me finish. I turn undead into mulch using my rig's 56" forestry mulching attachment.
three halflings just plowing through wave after wave of kobolds with a souped up Ventrac Sidewalk Snow Eliminator just caked in gore. their suicide run suddenly wildly successful beyond any of their imaginings, the sudden prospect of having to live after unleashing a Genocide Machine upon an army of chittering fools galls them, their conscience grows heavier with each meaty THUNK as mithril blades tear through rat-eaten leather studs.
The mouth of the cave looms before them ever taller, a glowing mouth leading to what, judgement? praise, for having transformed a culture into soup? which could possibly be worse?
In this game of Dungeons and Dozers we cast a spell activated by touch on one of the dozers and ram a castle!
Who will win? Castle or dozer?
swallowed by a Deere Dragon, busting open its stomach with my Portable Crane
Me: I summon my familiar, stomp on the gas, and barrel through the enemy ranks with 1,500 horsepower of raw fury.
DM: Uh, I thought you said your familiar was a cat?
Me: It is.
me and four totally ripped dudes shirtless, jackhammering into the Tarrasque's reflective shell, rendering it vulnerable to ray and beam-type spells.
Rolling a check blindspots for my CDL side quest.
GODSPEED JOHN GLENN
im a level 14 ditch witch
I wanna roll to seduce the lichen king
City of Glompton
DM seizing an opportunity to introduce a swarm of rust monsters
Luring the party into the pool before the Dark Throne before flipping on the electrolysis set-up
"Sure, you can use your wish to have a bulldozer" said my jerk of a dungeon master right before giving me an extra sleepy male cow.
DM: you approach a massive dirt mound, the lair of the undead dwarves. it rises thousands of feet in the air and is miles across. there is no obvious entrance.
the mage casts summon bucket-wheel excavator.
As my spells require me to meditate to refresh I am currently napping in the back please try and keep it down while you move the dirt.
super sweet best pal
Move over Lord of Blades! Killdozer is the new god of the Warforged!
a bunch of Sword Coast Rangers interrogating a necromancer who doesn't have immigration papers for the corpses he animated.
Stocking up on Rust-Oleum at the next town.
Wizard arguing she doesn't need a license because Plane Shift is travelling.
Returning to the local lord halfway through the tomb to argue that the uncross-able abyss counts as an unforeseen ground condition and that means that we're going to need an extension to the contract.
I sleepily wake up from my nap and check my lighter fluid. Okay I have like 2 maybe 3 fireballs left before I need more reagents. Where we headed?
Dave the Druid activates his Wild Shape: JCB ability
super sweet best pal
Cast levitate on a CAT and it becomes a TRESSYM
I fumble with the pallet jack, I get it moving but it's going really slow.
No I don't need help I'll catch up with your guys, I drive these all the time!
I wipe my forehead, okay now to figure out how to make this go fast, and better act fast before anyone else realizes I know nothing about construction and warehousing equipment! Oh I bet it's this! as I eye the rabbit switch as I flail my arms trying to keep balance while it moves at turtle.
Yes my character is riding the motorized pallet jack in a very unsafe way, don't be the wizard.
ripping the wall off the side of the local tavern, i ask the barkeep if hes heard any rumors. he glares at me and points to the "no bulldozers" sign. i sigh and leave empty handed, wishing id put more points into charisma.
ursula k. le guin's the tombs of atuan, except every character is operating a bulldozer
there are whispers of a great warrior living in the town who may aid you on your quest.
what, pray tell, is the great warrior's name?
DM: "The Berserker's axe cleaves deeply into the fire elemental lord's chest, and with one final fiery shriek the bright red glow of its eyes dims to embers and then extinguishes forever. The Dwarven capital city is saved from certain immolation!"
Human Oracle: "I search the corpse for items."
DM: "It's a pile of incredibly hot ash and cinders that repels you with painful heat."
Human Oracle: "I cast Protection from Energy: Fire on myself and then search the corpse for items."
DM: *annoyed* *rolls dice* . . .
"OK, you find - are you writing this down? It's not my job to keep track of this for you so pick up your pencil . . . OK, you find a platinum ring with a large emerald inset into it, a chain mail shirt that feels unnaturally light and strong, ten red gemstones of varying size, and . . . *rolls dice* . . . 40 liters of refined diesel fuel in two jerry cans."
Human Oracle: "Oh thank Sarenrae, I thought my 'dozer was gonna be stuck in this stupid cave forever! I cast Detect Magic and look at the loot."
DM: "The ring, the chain shirt, and the jerry cans full of diesel are all emitting a magical aura."
cursed diesel of + 3 global warming
Refusing healing from the cleric so that I can claim workman's comp.
party buffs up before a big fight by drinking a potion which clads them in glowing ephemeral hard hats, face masks, and kneepads.
The kobold lunges desperately at your dozer!
It's a critical hit! His tiny dagger pierces the hydraulic supply line, causing a pinhole leak, filling the air with a toxic cloud of hydraulic fluid mist! The caustic mist burns your eyes, make a saving throw for constitution!
I'd like to use my last luck of the day to reroll that
oh, WHAT... another 1, okay so how boned am I?
The burning pain in your eyes is excruciating. Luckily there is some castor oil in the first aid kit in the dozer, unluckily, you are temporarily blind so fumbling around for relief causes you to be Stunned for the next round. Also your dozer has lost all hydraulic pressure and cannot attack until you can isolate the leak. It can still move.
me playing a ranger, offering a handful of lugnuts to a curious baby backhoe, rolling nat 20s on my Handle Animal skill like a foreman.
A forest of hostile treants surrounds my dozer, thinking they've finally stopped me. I toss my cigar on the ground, and turn to the rest of the party, grinning wickedly
"Time to get out the feller-buncher and make a little lumber"
using a gem of true seeing to differentiate a vase from a reliquary, as the latter can only be handled by a member of the Tomb Raiders Union, local 36DD.
Waiting on the Thieves Guild guys to get off their 4th legally mandated coffee break of the morning and finish disabling this damned pit trap.
Dragons are easy, Thieves Guild shop stewards are CR 22 and immune to all diplomacy checks and charm spells.
the ceiling mimic gets a surprise attack, but they roll at a disadvantage due to the bobcat's cage.
never leave the cage.
Earthshattering! Join us today and let the 'yob chill you, giggling at dice & dump trucks!
I illustrate the dramatic difference in perception of the protests between news reports and on-the-scene live-streams
I Had Peaceful Protestors Gassed And Beaten So I Could Waddle To This Photo Op Like A Big Boy And All I Got Was This Prop Bible
If you are Will Wright or anyone at all please read this!
The Comedy Goldmine examines the funniest and most creative threads from the Something Awful Forums. Although the Comedy Goldmine has changed authors many times over the years, its focus on the Something Awful Forums is still the same. Includes hilarious Photoshops, amusing work stories, parodies, and other types of oddball humor.