I try my best to have the most fun I can every game I play. I've also been accused in my early days of being "not serious enough" about my Gamemastering.
Over 20 years ago, as I schlepped through the halls of community college, the gaming club would meet every Tuesday afternoon. Their organization had declined from the previous semester, so instead of on-going Battletech or D&D games, it was flavor-of-the-day game of choice.
On a previous week, another new recruit (and Eric) Eric Smith had introduced us to the wonders of TWERPS. The first game was the classic "zombie dash to the chopper." The next game we played was simply a variation of a theme "zombie dash to the piper cub."
No matter what, the game would have been a memorable one. There was tension, tactics, and healthy dose of joking around.
Then Glenn showed up.
Glenn was another new recruit for the club, but we should have seen the issues coming a mile away. He professed himself a Born Again Christian who had been recently been a full-blown Satanist. That didn't scare us away. His wild rantings on stupid subjects didn't scare us away. It didn't even scare us when he walked into the room, sat down at the table, and mid-game demanded that he play the Kermitnator.
The counter and stats for the character were in one of the many TWERPS booklets we were perusing through. And the second the amphibian/cyborg set foot on that airfield, all Hell broke loose, literally!
We went from killing zombies and running for our lives to fighting demons on the tarmac, and swiping pit fiends off the wings of the plane. The only thing that matched the absurdity of the situation was the laughter (and the Holy-Rolled-Up-Newspaper-of-God, Wednesday Edition).
Ah we were so young and stupid.
Glenn's life goal is to win a game of religious bingo using the fill-the-board rules. He's since turned atheist, agnostic, Catholic, and too many denominations of wicca and various pagan rites to count. The few times we played with him since we never let him play the Kerminator.
...even if he asked.
Over 20 years ago, as I schlepped through the halls of community college, the gaming club would meet every Tuesday afternoon. Their organization had declined from the previous semester, so instead of on-going Battletech or D&D games, it was flavor-of-the-day game of choice.
On a previous week, another new recruit (and Eric) Eric Smith had introduced us to the wonders of TWERPS. The first game was the classic "zombie dash to the chopper." The next game we played was simply a variation of a theme "zombie dash to the piper cub."
No matter what, the game would have been a memorable one. There was tension, tactics, and healthy dose of joking around.
Then Glenn showed up.
Glenn was another new recruit for the club, but we should have seen the issues coming a mile away. He professed himself a Born Again Christian who had been recently been a full-blown Satanist. That didn't scare us away. His wild rantings on stupid subjects didn't scare us away. It didn't even scare us when he walked into the room, sat down at the table, and mid-game demanded that he play the Kermitnator.
The counter and stats for the character were in one of the many TWERPS booklets we were perusing through. And the second the amphibian/cyborg set foot on that airfield, all Hell broke loose, literally!
We went from killing zombies and running for our lives to fighting demons on the tarmac, and swiping pit fiends off the wings of the plane. The only thing that matched the absurdity of the situation was the laughter (and the Holy-Rolled-Up-Newspaper-of-God, Wednesday Edition).
Ah we were so young and stupid.
Glenn's life goal is to win a game of religious bingo using the fill-the-board rules. He's since turned atheist, agnostic, Catholic, and too many denominations of wicca and various pagan rites to count. The few times we played with him since we never let him play the Kerminator.
...even if he asked.
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