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.

Post taken from Reddit, made by u/love61x57rh whose account is suspended so I can't link to it.

Transcription

>trying to teach a girl how D&D works

>makes half-orc rogue

>I'm loving the concept

>first fight starts

>Okay, DM. I spray the enemy with water!

>What? You can't do that.

>Why not? Aren't I half orca?

A few days ago, 3 players from my old 5e campaign reached out to me to see if I would be open to reviving that game. Henceforth, I will call them Lynnea, Warlock, and Druid. There was unanimous support for the game to begin. However, when we started arranging for session 0, I got a message from one of them:

Lynnea: So something happened between Warlock and I. I may not be able to play if she does. I have proof that she said something not okay with me if you would like to see it.

Me: Oh absolutely. Tbh I didn't really like them much. What did they do?

Now, before I tell all you wonderful readers what evidence was presented, I should explain my enthusiasm to kick this player out. Warlock was not exactly a pleasure to have at the table, although this was made less obvious by the fact we ran everything online through discord. I have written horror stories back on the alien site starring them, but since I deleted all my posts during the API apocalypse I will have to retell them from memory as best I can.

The Cardinal Sin of Apathy

Every session (until they introduced Lynnea to the party) they would spend nearly the entire session playing a videogame instead of rping or listening in general. The only time I had their full attention was combat. It was easy to forget that we were a secondary task to them, but every once in a while I would be in the middle of describing a scene when their game would get loud enough for me to hear it. Warlock also did not put any effort into role-playing. I have very low standards for role-playing; I don't need a voice or custom art, I just want to see you immerse yourself in the game. They couldn't even clear that bar outside of combat.

A good example of this happened when we were getting excited about the new campaign. I was trying to find a reference point for my players for the survival horror vibes I wanted, and settled on one session where they had to clear out a haunted keep to reclaim it. The plot went something like this:

As they entered the keep, they would explore each room after room, discovering fun lore things like dwarven hardtack, a mimic being used as a talking door, and steel bars from bad guy land. However, each time they entered a room, they would experience things which implied that something material was following them. Claws gently scratching at walls behind them, bodies would be found disemboweled and partially eaten, and every room had a shattered mirror. Rogue, at one point, felt hot, wet breathing down the back of her neck; she whipped around to stab the menace, but there was nothing but clicking and scratching sounds retreating down the hall behind her. At the end of the day, they decided that food stores in the basement were defensible, locking themselves into a lightless room with only one door in or out. They were assaulted that night. Warlock and Barbarian successfully held the door; as hard as the monsters tried, all they could do was scrape and gouge the edges of the door. Eventually they relented. The next day, Rogue decides to try something new: she picks up a fragment of a broken mirror, looking through it over her shoulder to see an emaciated humanoid with steel claws for fingers, which immediately grabs her by the legs and sprint-drags her to the other room. It is a quick fight. However, after discussing with each other for a bit, the players remember that there were at least 2 of these things assaulting them last night. Their hackles did not go down for the rest of the session, working together to scan each room with their mirrors.

It became apparent in the chat that the only one who remembered this session was Warlock:

Me: @warlock, would you like to tell the newbies about the keep with the invisible monsters? I have mind-of-god knowledge about what was actually going on, so I’m not the best person to tell this tale.

Warlock: basically was filled with creatures that could only be seen in a mirror or reflection and almost killed the entire party while taking a long rest by swiping through the broken barricades door.

Warlock: every mirror in the building was smashed and burned

The Lesser Sin of Sloth

Warlock was often a bit inflexible. Sometimes it seemed like they didn't want to listen with their ears. For example, during the party's session 0 where everyone met each other, I explained that the local area uses a gift economy and what that means. My setting was a sort of Studio Ghibli post-apocalypse, where the world is just barely getting out from under the collapse of my Roman Empire analogue, so establishing a standardized currency system wasn’t a priority and most of their part of the world had decided it wasn’t worth it. Warlock refused to understand:

Warlock: this is so stupid. You're saying I can't buy things?

Me: Well, trade on a local level is simple enough that barter works for many day-to-day functions, but like I just explained, if you don’t have something to give them for the thing you want, you do them a favor.

Warlock: You said there’s a tavern over there. Are you saying we don’t buy the drinks at the tavern?

Me: Technically what I am calling a tavern is what inlanders would call a “hospitality fort” and it’s a grey area I wanted to address later, but I feel like you are confusing trade in general with, you know, money. Think of it this way: In situations like this where there is no obvious standard of trade, people will find something ubiquitous to use as a currency: sea shells, precious metals, flint arrowheads, you get the idea. We’ve settled on favors as the currency. The community is absurdly small, so if someone owes someone else everyone is going to know about it by the end of the week. It’s like a social blockchain system powered by gossip.

Warlock: But what if I want to buy something? How am I supposed to pay for something if they don’t take cash?

Me: (sigh) I just explained, you need to talk with the person who has your thing and either find something you can do for them or get them to agree that you just owe them a favor. I’m going to be keeping track of your reputations in the community as a sort of credit score; if it gets too low you won’t be able to pay with IOUs anymore.

Warlock: I thought you said this was going to be a high-realism campaign.

Me: Fair, we probably have different ideas of what exactly counts as “realism”, but if you look at the player handout I do specify that I spent a lot of time thinking about how this new age of chaos has impacted the way people live their daily lives. I understand it is a bit of a mindfuck to try and navigate a culture so different for our irl culture, but I did a lot of research on what contexts different economic systems arise in and a gift economy fits the local area best.

Barbarian: Um. We were going to go deal with those goblins?

Rogue: (turns on mic) Right, I was just thinking about how we don’t have a healer. I’m going to go ask Calabash if we could get some potions of healing—

Warlock: How are we going to buy potions of healing if no one takes money around here?

Rogue: Mmph. (leaves the call)

Me: Calabash has a number of potions of healing for you all. It’s emergency resources for times such as now. The band looks after itself.

Barbarian: And what money are you trying to buy things with? How do you have money on your character sheet?

For context, I made homebrew backgrounds that each of them had to pick from, representing their social station. None of them come with money, unless you include the Noble’s gold ingots. Barbarian had noticed this during character creation and asked about it, so he already knew everything I was telling Warlock now and had been sitting patiently this entire time. I want to say that he must have been holding onto that question with the patience of a boulder in a river, but since he was my only IRL friend at this game I already know his patience was and is rivaled only by the Buddha himself.

Me: (pulls up Warlock’s sheet on Roll20, which I had sat with them to make, and begin checking it. There is indeed no money on it.)

Warlock: Well, I thought one of you would have been a noble. Anyway, what if we find money in the goblin camp?

Me: That’s a good question, and ties back into the tavern being a Hospitality Fort. Merchants do pass through and stay at the hospitality forts, and when you are elsewhere you will be staying at hospitality forts. So, our tavern does in fact accept gold, and merchants accept gold as well. However, most trade is done in gold ingots, as explained in my description of the noble background if you haven’t read it. Gold pieces are only worth their weight in gold. You’ll hear the tavernkeep calling them “specie” instead of coins because of this.

Warlock: You promised a high-realism campaign. I should be able to—

Barbarian: I think we have prepped all we can for our first quest. Are we going?

Me: I’ll message Rogue that Calabash gave them (rolls 3d4) 7 potions of healing and that we are starting the quest.

After this session, I talked about this with Barbarian. Barbarian agreed with Warlock that the gift economy was frustrating to deal with as a player, but they did say that Warlock was “being really weird” and didn't understand why they were so upset. I decided to quietly move the gift economy out of view after this, but never quite fully removed it because it tied into the law vs chaos theme of my setting. It was a blow to my dming confidence that I allowed session 0 to get so off the rails, but Barbarian (who also dms) was able to talk the bad thoughts out of my head.

In addition to not being the best listener, Warlock also could be quite hidebound. For example, at the climax of the quest mentioned in the last story, the party managed to stealth their way to the main chamber of the goblin warrens, where they saw 30 goblin warriors being given a rousing speech by their warchief Bogan Redcap, Lord of All Goblins.

Warlock: I have an idea. Can I use my yuan-ti ability to turn into a snake and sneak up behind the warchief?

Me: There's a lot of visual clutter in this room for you to sneak through, but there's a lot of goblins. Give me a Stealth.

Warlock: 16.

Me: Okay. There's a couple close calls, but you are a ghost in the dark and you get there unseen.

Warlock: I'm going to transform back into my humanoid form and decapitate the war chief.

Me: Sick. Roll to hit, then let's roll initiative.

They end up actually being able to take Bogan Redcap, Lord of All Goblins down in one hit, but it was a cool enough idea that I would have let them decapitate him anyway.

Warlock: I hold up the warchief's head and tell them to bow before me or die.

Me: Fuck Yeah! Roll Intimidation and I'm giving you an inspiration. Let's see what happens.

Warlock gets a 23, and I describe the entire room of goblins dropping their weapons and running in fear. However, this commotion catches the attention of every alert goblin in the warrens, and the party braces to fight the oncoming waves. When the first set of goblin reinforcements arrives, the players have decided on their first actions:

Barbarian: I rage and hit the nearest goblin.

Rogue: I'm hidden under a table. Sneak attack.

Warlock: I raise the warchief's head and tell them to surrender or die.

Warlock rolls high on their Intimidation roll, so the goblins decide that they are the most dangerous threat in this room and prioritize taking them out, much to the amusement of Barbarian who was literally pulverizing the goblins by hitting them hard enough that their bodies took on the consistency of rice bags. When the next wave arrived, each player declared their actions, and guess what Warlock chose?

Warlock: I raise the warchief's head and tell them to surrender or die.

Warlock rolls poorly, so they effectively entirely waste their turn. So, next round they try again.

Warlock: I raise the warchief's head and tell them to surrender or die.

Rogue: Why?

It doesn't work. This continues until I pause the game and explain to Warlock a psychological principle called the Law of Diminishing Returns. They react to this by trying to find other ways to use the head to intimidate the goblins, which I allow but it still has no obvious effect on the goblins. By the end of the 12 rounds of combat, Rogue and Barbarian are exhausted both in and out of game, whereas Warlock is just frustrated. There were many other times Warlock started acting this hidebound, one of which nearly caused a party wipe, but from this point forward I knew to be on the lookout for such behavior and correct it before it became a problem.

The Sin of Greed

Warlock was only motivated by acquiring new and better weapons. Whenever we were doing anything that did not lead to cool weapons, I could feel their eyes glazing over. This contributed to the campaign fizzling out in a fairly direct way.

The way I did quests was that I had a main list of quests on the Quest Board text channel, which the entire party could see. However, if a player had their own ambitions or a patron they answered to, I would create private text channels for them to receive quests or rp with their Patron. Since Warlock had a Patron, they had one such channel for their patron to send them on quests. I like to use warlock patrons and cleric gods as ways to yank the players around the map to see all the cool things I made, so their Patron had an interest in ancient lore and lost technologies.

Their first quest from their patron went fine, mostly because I included a hint that there would be a sentient magic sword in the proximity of the cheese recipe they were ordered to retrieve. They were very excited to find this sword, and only remembered the cheese recipe because I and Barbarian reminded them of it. (The cheese was like blue cheese but with penicillium mold, making it work like a potion of Cure Disease. Barbarian thought this was funny.)

The second, and ultimately last, quest commanded them to rescue several hundred records from a nuclear reactor finally going critical after sitting unmaintained since the second age of this world ended. Since the fallout from the meltdown would inevitably end civilization as their character knows it, they also had the option of traveling to the sea where some cephalopods had finally entered the bronze age using nuclear power instead of fire, where they could recruit one of their specialists to go with them to the reactor to help them figure out how to shut this effectively alien technology down. I made it clear that their patron did not give a single flying fuck about the oncoming apocalypse as long as the records were safe.

Clearly, Warlock cared even less. They did not respond to their patron, and did not address it at all until I poked them about it during a session. I do not remember their wording when they reiterated it to the other players, only that their tone made it clear that this quest was a pointless chore. The other players picked up on this and decided to put it off until they had no other choices, and once it was the last quest no one took the initiative to start it. This put me in a bind, mainly because I had fairly explicitly stated that if they put it off any more they might be too late to stop the nuclear plant from going kaboom, but I knew if I gave them any other quests they would definitely push it to the back of their queue, and I am fairly certain they wouldn’t like to have a very high chance to accidentally destroy their own civilization. And after Barbarian and Rogue both got busy and couldn’t make the sessions anymore, things just petered out.

The Cardinal Sin of Lust

Now, you may have noticed that two of the three players mentioned at the beginning of this very, very long story have not appeared so far, namely Lynnea and Druid. This is where we will begin to sketch out the real problem with Warlock, that being that they are a terrible, very horny person irl.

I met Warlock through a poly friend of mine (an ex that I was able to keep as a completely platonic friend; polyamory really trains those emotional boundaries) and they are poly themselves. This is relevant because I am going to accuse them of cheating on very little evidence in a few lines, and I feel that it is my responsibility to let you come to your own conclusions on this subject while presenting my opinion of them.

The thing that Warlock did that annoyed me the most was that they kept inviting girlfriends to the campaign right before their relationship with said girlfriend collapsed. I was quite sad each time their girlfriends did the responsible thing and bowed out instead of staying and creating tension; each one made an effort to make a unique character tied into my lore and worked with me to find a good way to introduce them smoothly in the next session, only to leave before their first session started. Going back over my logs, I found 3 different girlfriends who left in the span of 6 months, and that’s not counting the one that stayed (Druid) or the fact that they were clearly lining up Lynnea to be their next girlfriend at the end. Speaking as a poly person myself, I think churning through about one partner per month is a bit of a red flag. Even assuming that these were long-term partners who all happened to leave at the same time, this simply does not happen unless they did something to drive them all away. Considering that each of the 3 who left sounded like they were still in the honeymoon phase when I first met them, I think they did in fact get a new girlfriend and then drive them off in a month.

I did notice that Warlock stopped playing videogames during our sessions after Lynnea joined, which should have been a hint to me that something was different. Lynnea has informed me that Warlock had broken up with them a few years before, but at the time I met them they were apparently trying to win them back. As profoundly stupid as this seemed to me, they apparently did get back together some time after the campaign ran out of steam, but Lynnea was unaware of their ongoing relationship with Druid.

For those unaware, polyamory REQUIRES open communication between all partners. Keeping secrets is generally considered cheating. Poly people tend to have a surprisingly wide category of things that count as cheating, and having a semi-secret fuckbuddy is absolutely one of them. This discovery led to a breakup.

Of course, I had no idea about any of this at the time. The next thing, however, is the thing Lynnea shared with me, and is the thing that got them kicked and banned.

The First and Final Nail in the Coffin

Quick extra context: Warlock owed Lynnea money. Because of this, Lynnea would speak with them weekly to get the money, which was given in small payments of $40-$90. At this time, she had found a new partner who is as loyal and reliable as Sam was to Frodo. This did not stop Warlock from trying to win her back by writing poetry for her and other romantic gestures. She and Druid have also been trying to worm their way back into Lynnea’s good graces, since she wasn’t able to cleanly cut irl ties.

This finally brings us back to where our story began. Lynnea sent me this screenshot:

Shitty transcription is as follows:

Warlock: Can i ask a wierd question

Lynnea: Sure

Warlock: ik you do t have an OF but can i plz get content equal fo what I’ve paid for and given money for

Lynnea explained that nudes had not come up once before now. Apparently, Warlock and Druid had excused this behavior with “they were drunk when they sent that”.

I didn’t need any other reason to ban and block them.

Druid reached out to me after this to ask why Warlock was banned.

Once again, transcription:

Druid: hey so may i ask why Warlock got kicked?

Me: Hey. Short version is that they were on thin ice with me already for how they were behaving at the table. Lynnea reached out to me to express that they wouldn’t feel comfortable playing if Warlock was at the table, and she had receipts. So the decision was not hard.

Druid: What did she do at the table, if I may ask?

I gave her a civil but curt summary of my grievances.

Me: I do feel it was immature for me to not give Warlock an explanation for the ban, and I am sure my dislike of them came out of nowhere. But even if they did want to come back, now they know that I was just tolerating them this whole time, which I am sure hurts.

Druid: I apologize but im going to leave the campaign. Id feel more comfortable playing with somebody who’s NOT Warlock’s ex-finance, as I am her finance of recent. If you’ve gotten this many problems with her, let Warlock know yourself. She does not deserve to be in the dark with everything after all she dealt with.

Lynnea and I have talked, and we can’t come up with anything that warlock could be “dealing with” right now.

So, this left me with one player who is very excited for a new campaign. I have been reaching out to IRL friends of mine, but frankly none of them have as reliable attendance as Warlock. (That is, of course, why I kept inviting them to things.) Message me if you are interested in a player-directed low-fantasy survival horror dnd campaign that most likely will run one session per month (I am going to college and essentially keeping my head above water, which is my priority). It would be very sad if kicking the problem player out is what killed the campaign.

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.

Post taken from Reddit, made by u/Zagorath who is likely @Zagorath@aussie.zone here, and transcription taken from u/flippant_gibberish OCRing it on Reddit.

Transcription:

Have you ever watched Animaniacs? Have you ever seen any of the "Chicken Boo" episodes?

We had been playing a campaign for quite some time, allowing us to become high level. During the course of our game, our druid Onar took the Leadership feat after earning the respect of his peers in the Gatekeeper sect. He awakened his animal companion and took him as a cohort. We were somewhat perplexed by Onar's decision to have the bear take all his PC levels in rogue, especially by the amount of money that Onar spent buying his cohort magic items that boosted the disguise skill.

During a timeskip, Meatfists the awakened bear rogue had resurfaced as Mr. Bearington, a gentleman of high society wearing specially tailored bear sized suits and a monocle. A dandy of few words, he was a respected patron of the arts, medicine, and a known connoisseur of gourmet cooking. His attendance at upper crust functions was expected and though his thick accent often obscured his meaning, it only added to his mysterious allure.

Occasionally though, there would come one of those rare moments when Mr. Bearington's disguise was prepared below his normal impossible level and a random party guest just happened to have a rare moment of impossible insight.

"Oh, my god! That's a bear! That's a giant bear!" Silence would roll through the ballroom. "Don't any of you see it!? That is a giant bear in a suit!"

The mayor swiftly steps forward: "Mr. Bearington is a pillar of our community and he will not suffer the slander and mudslinging of a nincompoop! Methinks, if you cannot handle your wine you should not partake! Guards, remove this man from the grounds!"

"Why won't any of you listen! He's a bear! He's a beeeeaaaar!" He would yell as he was dragged kicking and screaming from the premises.

"I'm terribly sorry about that Mr. Bearington."

"Rar. Rararar."

"I assure you I do not tolerate that sort of behavior."

"Rar! Rarar."

"Why don't we retire to the dinner table? I've had the chef prepare an extra rare steak, just the way you like it. Let us dine, we can forget all this unpleasantness, and get down to words on the new opera house.

"Rawr!"

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

Text transcription in the comments.

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.

Transcription:

A series of 4chan posts.

A picture of a girl in a red hood sitting on the ground, in front of a kneeling deer, with a tree in the background.

Anonymous 05/28/12(Mon)19:01 No.19278319

My DM and group decided to start an evil campaign, something I didn't really want to take part in and in hindsight should have not joined at all.

My character was in a group that contained a barbarian cannibal, a witch that poisoned wells on whims, and a wizard that wanted to take over the world. I was playing a rogue.

In our party's downtime, which was spent in a city the wizard wanted to take over, we each did our own thing. The barbarian started an underground arena where he ate the losers, the witch and wizard experimented on slaves, and my character stalked a young girl.

That's it. Just making hide checks and watching a young girl from a distance. Whatever my intents were, I didn't reveal them, and this made everyone feel what I consider unreasonably uncomfortable.

The barbarian, who enjoyed describing the different parts of the humans he ate as supple or juicy, was the first to tell me out of character that I was fucked up.

The rest of the group chimed in, but when I reminded them that no one said anything when the witch injected demon blood into a pregnant slave's belly in an attempt to artificially create a half-demon (and ended up just poisoning both the mother and the fetus), the grudgingly kept quiet.

Anonymous 05/28/12(Mon)19:01 No.19278326

The DM, as if to try and dissuade me from my chosen course, had the young girl's life be remarkably uneventful. She woke up, had breakfast, and went to the academy where she studied. After classes, she went home, had dinner, studied some more, and went to sleep.

After six months of in-game time, the barbarian had a small group of cannibalistic gladiators as his underlings, the witch had successfully started a part-demon breeding project, and the wizard had infiltrated the High Council of the city and had started secretly administering a highly addictive drug. My character had learned the young girl's name, knew her favorite foods, saw which students she got along with, and even had a pretty good idea of which boys fancied her.

At first, I had thought that the rest of the group was uncomfortable with me stalking the young girl because they thought my character was doing it for sexual purposes. Slowly, I realized it was because over the course of the game sessions, they had all started to care, in their own small ways, about this studious little girl. Though their characters did horrible, unspeakable things to people, those people were all nameless strangers that none of them saw as humans. My character, however, was getting to know his intended victim, carefully and diligently, with the rest of the group slowly getting to know her as well.

Anonymous 05/28/12(Mon)19:02 No.19278334

By the time the wizard had full control of the city, his player knew that the little girl wanted to study exotic plants, especially flowers. The academy that he now had complete control over was her favorite place in the world, and her worst fear was if something ever happened to it.

The witch had minor demos raping slaves in secret chambers within the sewers, with many of their foul progeny spilling out into the streets above. A few of these chambers were dangerously close to the roads the young girl took to get to school, though thankfully for her the monsters only came out during the night.

The barbarian had been tracked down by a trio of bastards he had spawned many years ago, each of them seeking to kill the father who had abandoned them. After the barbarian had killed and devoured them, in the end the player knew less about his character's own children than he did about the stranger that the party's rogue had decided to stalk.

Anonymous 05/28/12(Mon)19:02 No.19278339

By then, everyone had started to suspect that I had no ill intent towards the girl. I had done nothing to interact with the girl, nothing even remotely involved with her, besides being a stone's throw away from her as much as possible. The barbarian proposed a theory, in that my character's only intent was to hone his stealth skill during his free time and that I, being unwilling to actually commit to being evil, had chosen a "mildly evil-themed" approach. I didn't refute this theory.

After that moment, the group seemed to actually take an interest in the young girl. From a callous perspective, they were just using her to provide their characters with someone they could be good towards just to create a greater sense of depravity in the evil they committed. From a kinder perspective, the players were good people at heart and just couldn't be evil to the young girl.

The Academy was provided with extra funding, and a set of greenhouses were built for the exclusive use of the students. The demon blood experiments were now under close supervision, with nightly patrols to help eradicate the escaped specimens. The barbarian, straightforward as ever, simply approached the girl, gave her a rare potted plant, and told her that if she ever wanted anything, she could ask him for it.

!/jexuKnPKY 05/28/12(Mon)19:03 No.19278342

In the following months, she became a sort of mascot for the group. Though all of their methods were evil, they now justified their actions by saying they were for the benefit of this young girl, who they secretly (and not so secretly) doted upon. At first, only the barbarian was on speaking terms with the girl, but after the wizard took an official position as a governor of the school and the witch soon followed after him, they all came to know the girl, more than they had simply through my character's observations.

Our campaign was slowly, ever so slowly, shifting in alignment as the players began to question their character's methods. As they grew closer to the young girl, it became harder and harder to conceal their experiments and activities. At first, they only stopped the most obvious ones, but eventually the die hard evil group had shifted to a rather neutral, if not partially good, party.

Our DM, who loved character arcs and unlikely story progression, praised my character for introducing an element into the story that allowed a group of evil people to redeem themselves. As he described the young girl walking home from the greenhouses, the DM took a moment to also say that he suspected that I had always planned to eventually turn the evil campaign into an ordinary one.

Laughing, I told him I had never had such an intent, and then I told him how my character silently emerged from the shadows, stalked towards the girl, and stabbed her in the neck.