Bribe-rrito

mmmm, 10 hour old Chipotle for breakfast is the best. Thanks D. Weibe for the Bribe-rrito.

Bribe-rrito: Noun - (see also: GM Bribe) A delicious mixture of tortilla and other burrito stuffs, delivered to a game master in order to keep one's character; alive, rolling in xp/hp/gp &/or "phat lewtz"
Ex: "My character took some nasty ability damage, but I brought a bribe-rrito to game and now I have an even BETTER ability mod."

Withdrawals

So, I have not played a game of D&D in almost a month or more and it SUCKS.
I should be back behind a screen or a P.C. sheet within a couple weeks, but UNTIL THEN, and even when I usually get my fix, I love to hear about other groups who have A LOT of fun.
I was debating about whether to do a Meme-Orable for this but decided to against it.

Nerd Poker
Hosted by Brian Posehn, quiet nerdy comedian.
New, fun, mature & alternative, with nothing but notable entertainment geeks. As of the 2nd or 3rd episode they start telling stories from past games, it seems many of them including other L.A. nerds like Patton Oswald & Chris Hardwick

Acquisitions Incorporated
Many adventures from these characters, not to mention no shortage of reference comics in the Penny Arcade Archives. Most Recently The Vault of Winter
Penny Arcade, PVP & Wil Wheaton
http://www.wizards.com/dnd/podcasts.aspx
Oh yeah, and this happens fairly regularly as well . . .


Table Titans!
Headed by Scott Kurtz of PVP (of the above groups), not up yet, but can't wait. apparently in association with Wizards of The Coast. Not sure in what capacity, but cool.
http://tabletitans.com/

Zak & the Porn Crew!
I have mentioned how much I love this blog, not to mention ConstantCon!
http://dndwithpornstars.blogspot.com/
and the sadly defunct web series if you want to see what it looks like when you DO have a group full of females (oddly enough, very similar to any other game, go figure).
http://www.escapistmagazine.com/videos/view/i-hit-it-with-my-axe?page=2

Give them a look over and I'm sorry if you now have some hundred hours to catch up on, it is HILARIOUS!

A Tale of Two Burritozilla's

How does your gaming crew end a campaign? Ours does it with booze, Epic Meal Time homage's, Huge Fuckin' Blades & Huge Fuckin' Burritos.

Birth is a beautiful, yet terrifying thing.

"Oh nos! We just fought a dragon shaman who may or may not have been epic level and NOW there's a size category HUGE green dragon barreling down on us as we sit like hors d'oeuvres on a plate on top of a temple." No, bitch! My group says BRING IT!!1! We're eating 17' death rolls of Mexican goodness then pouring poison into our gullet holes while we FUCK THAT DRAGON! No shit, the dwarf just made a grapple check, now he's rolling to control the pin.

"Let's go to Work."

Before we get (yes, I'm going to say it) ROLLIN' we have to divy up this mass of meat, beans, rice, awesome, sauce & tortilla so that all may partake of the madness. "But h4773r? Are you gonna use one of those little Bitch Kitchen knives? That would take forever." FUCK NO! I use Aniki, the beast from the far east, the edge from the edge of the world, my Kanetsune.

Luh-Ike! BUHTTUH! I came a little. I wont lie about that. And yes, that is a wooden battle board with scorch marks for the grid. Ti Slut did that up nice just for our group.

"But where will you cut it? That's not your table and you don't want to get 'zilla juices all over the floor? Are you going to go outside?" FUCK NO! This is D&D right? We use the fucking metal-ass battle board to slice these vessels of sustenance, then we use it for tactical visualization, like a Boss.

Aniki, Drippin', not ready to take his tip out of the battle board. Burritozilla, divided. Was it good for you?

And so, as the sounds of gnashing nerds and guzzling geeks echo against the walls of our dining area, shit is being bulled. My compatriots enjoy their last moments as living characters before I destroy them with emerald, winged, acid breathing death. On film, for your consideration.

Perhaps the camera man (RunningRyan) and myself will make a transcript and post it so you can hear my witty ass remarks. Probably not though, as you should just watch it 3 times like I did.
And guess what? We did it again last week, only it got crazyer, with more video, and hopefully better quality. Tune in!

A Gateway to Societal Paths

Just got back from Strategicon:Gateway, almost "today (as in we almost got home past midnight last night)" but in retrospect, I am so glad I decided to tag along with J.C..
First day we had not even asked ourselves what we wanted to play when a enthusiastic gentleman began to chat us up. apparently he was running a pathfinder game where the PC's play a band of goblins, a fantastic one shot. I agree to go play. (Apparently it was a one shot for Pathfinder Society, which I had toyed with signing up for in the past, but had not committed to, as I had not fully researched it.) We assemble and start picking pre-gen goblins, but there is a small army of us, grossly exceeding the encounter CR so we move to a different room and split into two groups as one of the players volunteers to DM. I opted to join the Last Second Group, where I meet "D.J?.", an older gentleman than myself with a goatee and a wicked glint in his eye who volunteered to DM and "H.Hazzard." a bespectabled, well built, prematurely-balding-batman-baseball cap wearing, crazy eyed glaring chap as well.
The goblin crew set out, I opted for the NE cleric of the Goblin God (we were all evil, and, like you do, hate dogs & horses and LOVE fire) and at the beginning of our first combat, before we were allowed to perform any actions, we had to sign our "goblin song (all the pregen's had a quaint little flavor text box)" in order to continue the session. An hour goes by as we get to the dungeon(read:combat grid map section) and barrel through it as H.Hazzard's goblin has a barbarian like rage whenever he smells dogs. Quote "Ah hayt dawgs. Aye smell'um." and as evidence from some of the other parties in character voices, these goblins have cajun accents as our speculated cooking also runs along that vein.
We barrel down into the boss fight as H.Hazzard busts through a floor to get to the dogs, wielding a "goblin sized great club" (a horse joint we hacked off our first major encounter "stompy") and the hilarity ensues. Our alchemist cant stay standing, our rogue, shy from one of the first fights, doesn't make come into the room till round 4, the fighter wont even consider the boss(an evil druid with a Med. Frog companion) until all dogs are rendered unidentifiable, and the bard is doing his/her best to be useful. Seeing as the rogue is wielding a gift from the chief (a +1 weapon) he has a n extra "dogslicer(knife)" and refusing to dual wield with his standard one, I, the cleric, Sleight of Hand it off of him while he's prone, 2 combats previously and am now a dual-wielding cleric.
I get a swarm dropped on me, there are three dogs up as well as the boss & her toad, so, I do what I think any self respecting NE goblin cleric who already blew his burning hands earlier that day would do! Channel negative energy, three consecutive rounds. Even until the last day of the con (four days total) the Goblin MVP's were myself for nearly dropping half of my own party as the CLERIC, and the alchemist from the OTHER group for playing sloppy with the AoE from his bombs. And so, just as I get swallowed by the toad, my group manages to finish off the toad & the druid, all wrapped up in less than 2&1/2 hours. A fantastic introduction to Pathfinder Society if I do say so myself. D.J?. granted us every bonus and accolade he could for that session on the Chronicle sheet.

Second day, I waited around for something, decided to opt out, then was dragged along to a live event called The Dungeon Master and since I had not yet done any RP that day, decided to sign up to play/perform.
This was a blast. Despite the fact some of our party members had not even hit puberty yet, they were enthusiastic and ready to solve every problem with whatever weapon they had at hand. I felt I presented a slightly better than mediocre display of my wit and wisdom as well as a one shot on the "boss" of the session. Apparently my snark, ability to combine rhymes for pun-tastic couplets, and willingness to contribute to the terrible pop-culture references and inside jokes made me the audience favorite for that session, gaining me free admission to their shows for their next season.

Day Three, I am on a mission to play another game with D.J?. as the DM if he runs one and I have also resolved to join the Pathfinder Society in full and roll up a character. I have done a bit of research and am learning about the world of Golarion so I begin trolling the corner/hole the society had been regulated to. I find D.J?. and he is sitting, eyes closed and chiming in to a game he seemed to be helping with. I tried to chat him up a bit and after hearing simply that he would be running other games, wandered off to begin rolling up a Pathfinder legit toon. I find some amiable gents who've been playing Society for some time, as well as H.Hazzard, and the BSing ensues while I choose what type of ridiculousness Golarion is about to defile its universe.
I opted to join in to a tier 1 game and so my reign of silly has begun. After gaining the approval of 1 and 2 1/2 ninja's (i would say only half approval from two of the three) oh, I'm sorry, "merchants," and noobing it up/messing with our cleric (who was being RPed excellently) I had completed my first real Society mission.
I tracked down D.J?. again, this time he was MUCH chipper (apparently a 6 hour nap has that effect) and agreed to let me jump into a game with a pregen he was running later that eve.
And so, at 8pm we assembled, H.Hazzad was running his crazy high AC warrior (33 AC before buffs), I snagged the Rogue from the core book as my other choice was the warrior, and we already had one. The gal RUNNING a few things at the con decided to jump in as our healer, the Cleric from the core as well. AND to round out our crew we had a fantastic battle-buff-bard/savage skald of serious Nordic flavor. APPARENTLY, this tier was 8-9, the "real" characters were level 8 and the cleric & I were level 7, so we we're technically UNDERpowered for the session. so, about 2/3rd through the first encounter we almost KILLED, like, dead dead, more than -10 plus -your con score, but thankfully, D.M?. re-did some math and realized he was using the higher level stats for the encounter so re-dialed the damage. We were then offered the opportunity to restart the session for a more appropriate adventure, but we opted to be badass, and managed to plow through and complete the task, we might have had SOME help from the DM, but even with some junk rolls and maybe some meta-gaming from the DM and the cleric, we had some great moments. Even so, I think we earned those points.

Memeorable - Meme-ar-pee-gee

Many of us are gamers. Even fewer, are Table-Top gamers. It takes a special breed of nerd to partake of the truly . . . unique experience that is assembling like minded individuals for a session of shared imagining.

A skit by the Dead Alewives has had a massive resonance with my own personal experience and I think I could venture to assume it has impacted others who have come before me and those who shall come after.

HERE is the audio file, but I recommend watching both of the videos below.






AND, the less known, but, in my opinion, just as accurate and amusing SECOND SKIT. Stick it in your ear hole while shoving cheetos in your Mt. Dew hole!

H
O
L
E
!!!

Gamer Superstitions

(Persevere my brethren! Together, we shall confirm!!)

If you know, or are, a tabletop gamer, you know that there is something . . . odd, about their relationship with dice.

For some of us, its simple. We get mad when we roll poorly and excited when we roll well. For others, we spurn and embrace the little polyhedrons as the winds favor certain combinations.



For some of us though, an animistic view becomes prevalent and we find ourselves test rolling dice, feeling bonds with dice, selecting them from a balance of aesthetic, balance, "rolls" and even materials (ty to JBJ for my pewter dice set, they have served me well!).

I find every approach valid and as long as it is fun and healthy (I use the term loosely, especially in the mental arena) I think it has become an essential part of the tabletop culture. (Picture? see Commandment #8)


Although I have recently discovered THIS GUY (He seems kind of odd at first, and yes, he is VERY passionate about the dice, I believe it and recommend them to any who are even slightly interested) thanks to Gilliam, and fully intend to purchase some dice and use them (Gilly has a set already and they are very crisp and clean, they feel very exact) I still like a little "mojo" to dice and think it adds to the overall experience.


I've heard rumors that the longer you play, the better you roll, but I find this to be invalid.

Some members of my group have used dice rolling software for ease and simplicity, and to further my geek cred, we can tabletop on the fly by keeping our character sheets on digital copy. How many times have you seen a group of geeks playing D&D at a park WITHOUT pencils or dice? Done it! BUT! I shy away from it. Much like music and books for me, having a digital is nice, but having a tactile object, something that cant run out of power, is always preferable to me.

This is just my opinion, but I think there is more to it than just convenience and economy. Whether you're feeling out the "right" dice at the local comic shop or hand painting numbers onto your new razor-sharp-verticesed d4's, keep rollin' kids. Here's to those sweet rolls that make a great story years later, that only other weirdos like you can understand. Those great opening lines "this one time in-game . . ."

P.S. House rule I like, If you roll Yatzhee on more than 3d, you deal double damage if its greater than average, and roll again if it's less than.(True Story, J-explosion did this. I still hate him. "Pics or it didn't happen" right?)

Geek Ph34r

Do you like ghost stories? A chilling tale around the campfire? Well, in our modern age even the youngest listener can be doubtful of even the most gruesome lake-side myths. So, here I have a fairly modern, geek-centric telling of a terrible occurrence I developed recently. Feel free to use it at your own outings. I think this can be adapted easily to most locals; such as cons, fairs or its native root of the campsite.

------------ -------------------- ----------------------

The hand full of us sat around the campfire as we roasted marshmallows, I know, how wonderfully cliche.
A quiet calm descended over the group as a particularly nipping breeze floated through the woods.
I made an over dramatic sigh and looked about obviously, letting my view linger up at the starry sky.

"Mel loved nights like this," I said wistfully.

"Mel? your ex?" My friend asked.

"No, his name was Melvin, and he was a frie . . um, more like an acquaintance of mine a few years back." I said as I stoked the fire and looked away despondently. "Poor guy," I continued, "I wonder if they ever found him."

Several raised eyebrows met my eyes as well as my cryptic comment.

"Melvin Butram, poor kid, what a name, went to my rival high school back in Stockton, but I knew him through LARPing. Our group used to come up here for our games. We were the Edhelian Larp Fun Society. ELFS? I didn't name it. It was during that time in my life I developed my "Theory on LARPing by the Numbers" and stopped playing shortly thereafter. But I always remember poor Melvin."

I leaned forward, settling into the story and lowered my voice a bit. Something made me nervous.

"He was very quiet, very typically nerdy. Big glasses, big boned, freckles, could not talk to girls, even in character, he'd just stutter. But, he was very talented, he always had the best outfits, armour, weapons. The noobs were always asking for his help, and he did his best to teach what he could. My buddy mike once asked him how he got so good, Melvin's reply was 'lots of free time.' We were very inclined to believe him since as far as we knew he never had any party's, a girlfriend, or anything. On occasion we'd invite him to our parties, LAN's, whatever, but he only ever came to LARP events."

The sound of the crackling fire, the wind in the trees and our slow breaths were all we could hear as I made a concerned face.

"It was funny. well, funny odd, not funny 'ha,ha.' He was a big guy but he was real good at live action, especially the combat. He took it very serious as far as not getting hit, that wounds were big deals. And any time he could help with first aid he would jump right in. He was almost always either the last person in his crew to die or not at all.
One time he 'died' in a melee that was a real bad call by one of the game masters and you could tell by Mel's face he was not pleased about the call. So he lied down and waited. A cleric came by and 'rezed' him and then he kinda snapped for a bit. He jumped up, let out a real 'GEEYYAAAGGGHH!!!' you know, startled a couple people near him, and ran down the guy who 'killed' him, guy's name was Chris. Even after he had returned the favor, he kept hitting the ground next to Chris, sorta as if the ground had been Chris' 'corpse' and then after about a good solid thirty seconds or so went off and slaughtered like four or five other enemy players that were honestly too easy. It was like Melvin . . . I don't know . . . he followed all the rules, I think he just took it too seriously."

A couple of my fellow campers shifted as I looked up with a pensive look on my face.

"Then it got close to graduation and we heard he got held back. Apparently he flunked out of most of his classes because he was skipping a lot of school. Our buddy 'Jeebus,' who we shared a Vocational class with some of the guys who went to school with Melvin, said he had gotten addicted to an MMO. Ever? . . Galax? . . no, it was one of the more gritty ones. Dark ages? I don't remember, but anyway.
Melvin only started coming to the longer outings up here. Nothing shorter than a four day weekend. He became even more quiet and the only time we saw him smile was when we were doing combats."

I gave a slight grin as I continued, " except one week, spring break, we were up here and he was all smiles. When asked what had him so happy he said he'd met somebody. We were all happy for him. Wondering who she was or if she was even real, but he was in a good mood and that was cool." My face then turned to a grimace. "But, about a month later, Melvin disappeared."

"After a week or so rumor got round that they found his room empty of all of his practical weapons and his computer on to a character log in screen. When the investigators logged in they found he had been on an RP server and a chat log where he had confessed his love to another character in game. Initially, the other player played along through RP, about a month earlier, and Melvin's character had mentioned meeting or leaving with the other character to 'the woods of Edhelian'," I said with emphasis as I motioned to the woods around me.
"Apparently when Mel dropped the bomb and gave the other player a real life address to get out here, the other player put Mel on ignore and never replied to him again, even reported him for abuse. So, the cops came out here as this was the only other lead they could find. All they ever found was his bicycle. They searched out here for another month. We all graduated without hearing any sort of updates. His parents were crushed."



"A couple years back though, I was talking to Ricky, one of Jeebus' best friends, and he said they had to stop LARPing out here because the younger kids were getting scared and players of all ages were getting hurt in freak accidents. One kid even died. The rangers said he was attacked by a predator because he had massive lacerations, but anybody who's been up here more than a few times can tell you, the most vicious thing up here is a raccoon. The creepy thing to me, is that the kid was dressed as an 'evil warlock' and Melvin almost always played a 'good ranger.' On top of that, last year they had a couple hikers go missing. They found the bodies a week and a half later, bound, gagged and dead in a cave. The cave had had a basic fire pit, some leaves that resembled bedding, and the plastic of an eyglass lens. Both hikers had twenty-twenty vision."

I looked up in suprise. I lowered my hand to my pocket and reached in.
"W-T- . . . . AAAHH!!!!" I screamed as I pulled the pair of hornrimed glasses from my pocket, they were missing one lense and were scratched and bloodied.

Dangling From the Wagon

Well, devoted readers (all 3 of you), I managed to keep a steady stream of deliciousness up for about 3 months before I flagged. This is a blog about the status of the blog.

Lament or rejoice (however you feel) this is not defeat, only an update, the blog will march on. I am theatre person and the "show" must go on! (Shakespeare In Love, "It will work! How? I don't know. It's a mystery." On a total shameless tangent, in my Science, Religion, Magic, class, one theorist proposes that humans first result to science, then religion, than lastly, magic. Theatre is a great example of this. How do we put up a show? First, we set up and follow the instructions by the book. Something goes wrong? We pray and hope it will get fixed. Still no? Finally, we resort to superstition and strange rituals to explain and resolve. *looks around* Say hey, look where we ended up. Okay, back to the "not being able to write" portion of this essay . . .)

I currently have about 3 to 5 blogs sitting in the edit file, all of them succulent and juicy, ready to be devoured by you (all 3 of you) the hungering reader.
Subjects include the story of my Proposal to T1nk, an in-character narrative, an observation on RP geek superstitions, as well as reviews on "Melody of Oblivion" & "9." (heh, looky that. Five ideas. Cool.)

Anyway, nerdlings, thank you for hangin' in here with me, and if you havnt already availed yourself of some of the back log posts, I highly reccomend that you partake of them . . . all except for T3h R4n7s. stay away from those. Bad tings mon, bad tings.

-H47

Jace's Lullaby

(I cooked this up for a D&D campaign. My character sings it at night before bed when they make camp, or each night while hes on ship, after the changing of the first eve's watch.)

Jace's Lullaby

My pretty lass, my pretty lass, how I miss your lovely face

You know not who's singin' lass? Tis your darlin' Jace.

My pretty lass, my pretty lass, I long for you to be near

bless my bones my pretty lass, my song can you not hear?

Ahoy my darlin' how have you come to me?

Ye' shant be here, yet I you've found, out upon the sea.

What is wrong my pretty lass? Out of sorts you seem

you gaze off into the distance as if in a dream.

What is that my dear, you have found me at last?

But you were safe in port while I followed the mast.

Oh heavens no, it can not be true.

You threw yourself into the blue.

Alas my dear you know not what you've done

because you've drowned yourself my dear we can not be one.

For when lubers die, they go to heaven or to hell,

And when I pass the Blessed Ilse is where I shall dwell

So, now my love, travel on and take heart

Though forever we must now be apart,

One shall sing for you, your darlin' Jace,

My pretty lass, my pretty lass, keep a smile upon your face.

S.G.I.S.Con 4 Spoiler

A friendly reminder to those in the know. SAME BAD PLACE SAME BAD TIME!

I anticipate both trilogies being played the entire weekend, with special screenings of SW-centric movies. I'm hoping for FANBOYS , SPACEBALLS , and maybe even the terrible X-MAS SPECIAL !!!!

I also really want to do a Lightsabre building workshop, and I'm sure we can dig out numerous SW-themed games to play.

More itinerary as we get closer to the event.

Paranoia & Nicknames

So, If you read more than a few posts here, you will notice I don't use peoples real names anywhere, and more often then not, they're nicknames.
Ever since the wee years of my internet exploits I was aware of the fact that bad things happen when random people have access to your personal info. It has remained a prudent exercise ever since, hence, why my real name is never used here, and anyone who doesn't already have a well established web handle, gets a nickname I feel adequately describes them, or has been pre-approved by them. a few people who will probably re-occur follow:
Theatreg33k, my fiance, she is also an actress, we live together, owns a cat (don't even get me started on that cat), she's currently employed by a major corporation, is a presence in most social networking sites and has her own site which I can't find right now. More about her and our relationship in other posts, trust me.
Epyon_avenger: A good friend of mine out here in the left valley. He is a Tech for a private school, a nerdlinger supreme, and hosts a couple Neverwinter servers. One of the many geeks In my D&D circle, doppleganger to . . .
PievuhG: Origionally just, my co-worker, at the high end weapons shop we work at, soon became a great friend as her geeky flag flew brightly, with a rainbow on it. One of the lesbians Theatreg33k and I have added to our collection (we collect lesbians, i'm sure there will be a post) she's cureently single, and it has been established by all of us that her and Epyon are the same people from different realities, or something to that effect. She used to do Repo, and is a mechanic, soooo dykey, its great.
The Blave: An overacheiver, a bear of a man, a teddy bear that is. He looks like like a viking, very norse pillager, but he's happy and amicable all the time. A theatre/english teacher at a local high school, The Blave is also a constant fixture in our D&D groups. I call him The Blave because he has a penchant for telling outlandish white lies, and more often than not people beleive him. see D.O.S. in any of Theatreg33ks other sites.
I will post other character profiles later, probably name them Nicknames again.

WHATS?! with the blog name?

This is one of my favorite stories. It's long, detailed, and geeky (insert wang joke here). You have been warned.
I have been playing Dungeons & Dragons in all it's incarnations since . . . '97? maybe '98, definitely before 2000, as I started in AD&D. One way our friends would find each other would be to yell "What's a THAC0!?" But, I digress. (watch out, these parenthesis, and tangents things happen a lot.)
With my very fist gaming group, Mjerk, Jjerk, FeetRcold, and a couple others (nicknames are be covered in another blog, don't worry) I rolled a Bard named Ran Dansin. Mjerk, was the DM and this was a Alice in Wonderland-centric game. We ended off in a Battle of wits against the American McGee's version of the Mad Hatter, and through our exploits, my bard acquired a Mad Hatter Hat. This hat was awesome because not only could our gnome walk its brim like a turret(magically, of course) we could dangle him into the hat and had a 65% chance to pull out any mundane item, 23% chance to pull out any uncommon item, 10% chance to pull out any truly rare items, and 2% for anything ridiculously rare, but there had to be more than like 2 of it in the universe.
Fast forward about four years, I begin gaming with The Blave, Epyon_Avenger, Jubbles, and a couple others and The Blave is our DM. I ask if I can resurrect my bard and more importantly his signature hat. The Blave approves, but because he is a stickler for rules and our group was full of power gamers, he "neutered" or more precisely set rules for the hat with random tables. I blindly agreed, thrilled my hat would make it into the game (we started fairly low level and this was effectively a wondrous item) little did I know what horrors this item would visit upon us. The two most common items we pulled out of the Hat were shards of broken glass, which dealt about 1d4 damage to your hands, and really smelly cheese, which would cause -1d4 temporary charisma damage. Mundane annoyances weren't the only things we pulled out of the hat, to The Blave's credit, over the course of a nine month campaign, I pulled out two wee genie's which helped me meet the preq's to be a duelist(these were mostly to accommodate my lack of power building skills and allow me to be more useful in combat) as well as a jackalope named Plot Point who was originally our sorcerer's new familiar, but became this unmitigated ball of dragoon brokenness run by The Blave as his harbinger of doom in his game world. Later, I would pull out a flock of giant, cat sized mosquito's that literally killed me(I have been constantly reminded by The Blave how because I was his favorite character he was constantly smudging damage to keep me alive. great, I was his personal stress ball). As well as lesser jackalopes, males, so that Plot Point could defeat them in single combat and then devour their glands(this was how he leveled) and female jackalopes, so that he could mate with them, defeat them in single combat, and eat their glands, you see the pattern? Apparently this increased his charisma, whatever.
At one point, as I was reaching into the hat, something grabbed me and pulled me into the hat, I was terrified, after all the things I had pulled out, this was not a good idea. Turns out, a giant version of me in another dimension pulled me out of HIS hat. I stood there in shock, and he stared at me for a few seconds, and said, "I wish for a plus two keen, fiery rapier." I replied, "That sounds awesome, but get Vicious and keen if you've got a healer." To which he replied, "No, you're a wee genie and you're gonna grant me a wish, although you look really familiar." Me,"sorry dude, but I have a hat on the other side and you pulled me, I can't grant wishes." Him, "you have a hat too? Isn't it great, wee genies and gold all the time? and a healing jackalope? I pull out the genies all the time!" Me, "really? all I keep pulling out is crap!" He seemed to take pity on me at this point, so he sent me off with a copper piece, which to me was about five feet in diameter, we lugged that thing around till we found a forge to break it down. It was miserable.
Later on, it became a tradition between some of the more screwball members of the group (it fluctuated from he original 5 up to a total of fourteen, technically, over the summer, and everywhere in between) that any new members of the group were greeted with "It's Time for everybody's favorite initiation! WHATS?! IN THE HAT!?!?!?" One of the more memorable initiations was -Brad Again-'s warrior. Not the sharpest shovel in the drawer(yes, I know) he actually managed to pull out a cockatrice, which is an undead chicken that can turn things to stone. Fortunately this warrior was too dumb to be turned to stone, so he pulled it out of the hat, made his fort save and the chicken crowed "bwuahhah!" Me, "what is it?" Jubbles moved his pointer finger through a ring of his other fingers and made a squeaking noise, "his name is herbert." me, " if it wasn't before, it is now." and coincidentally, that's how my rubber chicken got his name. Herbert became the warriors drinking buddy, and one morning after a night of too many ales, the war grabbed the cockatrice and yelled "HOW DID YOU SLEEP CHICKEN!?!?" too which it replied, "KROAWAH!!"
So, there you have it, since the H47 sits on my head, you're reaching your hand right in, be careful, you could get stinky cheese, or hopefully, wee genies.