Dust
2010-03-29, 11:40 AM
This story is only remotely related to gaming and more involves that one guy in your group who you kinda knew was crazy but wow he really lost it.
In my group, that member also happens to be the guy who believes that he is the world's best GM, when in reality he's anything but. (Isn't it funny how things always work out like that?)
He (henceforth known simply as GM) is known for railroading to an extreme, to the point that we've sat down to several games sessions with him stating 'There isn't really anything you can do to change what's going to happen this game, so I'm just going to narrate to you,' and flipping open page 47 of his coil notebook.
GM is also known for accusing his players of min-maxing over the tiniest little things. For example, he threw a fit the last time a player proposed an absent-minded bookish-type character with the 'near-sighted' flaw, since 'glasses cancel out the flaw completely, you MUNCHKIN.'
That being said, he's been a good guy (until the events depicted in this post!) and we occasionally lose our sanity every year or so and let him run something. This time it was in the World of Darkness setting.
Prior to the game, he sat down and accused us of sticking to our 'standard character archetypes.' Okay, fair enough.
He dares the player who liked playing the intellectual-types to make a mindless biker gang bruiser, and the challenge was accepted. I was told I needed to play something a little more...emotional. Thus, Gay Gordon Ramsey the Fashion Designer was born. He had a different name, of course, but it was how I pitched it to the GM, and both he and the other players alike referred to my character as Gay Gordon Ramsey out-of-character. So, whatever.
We're playing in a college this particular evening. There's a great coffee shop indoors that's open all night, and there's about a dozen people at any given time hanging around and studying in the area. There is also, later in this story, a guy cooking ramen noodles. That's important.
ANYWAY.
The stage is set for an epic investigative adventure. New Orleans, 1984. We're keeping an eye open for anything obviously paranormal taking place, but trying not to draw attention to ourselves. The session drags on endlessly as GM narrates, and finally it's time for us to do something.
GM: As you enter the biker bar, you notice something.....unusual. The scent of blood.
Player: Wait, like from a barfight?
GM: YES. It is faint, but there.
Player: Is it, um....fresh blood?
GM: No. In fact, you get the distinct impression that it's a fairly standard smell in this place.
Player: But it's....the smell of old blood. In a biker bar.
GM: YES.
Player: I...use my associated supernatural-tracking abilities to see if there's anything weird about this place.
GM: Nope.
So the player tries to make small talk with the bartender and pick up on whatever lead the GM is trying to give us, but to no avail. We can tell this isn't going according to his plan by the veins in his neck, so we suggest he swap over to the 'second' team for awhile.
GM: As you walk down the street, several frat boys whistle at <GM's Girlfriend Character Here>.
Girlfriend: Um, my character is like, 16.
GM: They don't care, they're drunk. The hand you a flyer and invite you to the big kegger that's going on.
Me: I say 'She's with me, expletive-deleted-heads. You might want to keep going.'
GM: So wait, you're not letting her go?
Me: What? Well, I guess she can if she WANTS, but we're trying to advance the whole supernatural-monsters-plot, and I don't think underage molestation will help with that. Y'know. At all.
At this point, the GM loses it. He leaps to his feet, attempts to rip the notebook in half, fails, and starts shouting accusations.
GM: You obviously ignored my VERY blatant plot hook in the bar...
Us: What, that was a plot hook?
GM: Like you didn't know! Old blood? VAMPIRES?!
Player: Oh, huh. I didn't..really get that at all.
GM: Don't play dumb! You're intentionally sabotaging this! And you!
He points a malicious finger at me, and his voice starts trembling.
GM: You’re not even TRYING to be gay!
At this point the GM begins crying, big crocodile tears rolling down his face, and we're feeling pretty guilty. I mean, I'm not sure you've seen a grown man blubber over vampires recently unless you're a Twilight fan (That's right. I went there.), but it's REALLY hard not to suddenly feel ashamed of yourself and embarrassed on their behalf during something like this.
So we try to calm him down, but it's no use - he's shoving his books inside this tattered old knapsack and trying to blink the tears out of his eyes.
Remember, college. A dozen staring people. One guy cooking ramen in a microwave.
So GM slings his bag over his shoulder and starts tromping out, Girlfriend staring shocked after him. As he passes Ramen Guy, the dude loudly proclaims in the most hipster voice I've heard in months, "Dude, relax."
What a jerk.
GM loses it. This was the last straw. He was not about to be told to RELAX by someone wearing sandals and cooking fried noodles. With a scream of rage, GM grabs the microwave with both hands, rips the plug out of the wall, and HURLS it towards the coffeeshop. It smashes the glass casing over the pastries and bounces off the back wall. Glass everywhere.
GM starts weeping again and runs out of the cafeteria as a girl starts dialing campus security on her cellphone. We have to answer some very, very awkward questions.
We don't see GM around anymore.
In my group, that member also happens to be the guy who believes that he is the world's best GM, when in reality he's anything but. (Isn't it funny how things always work out like that?)
He (henceforth known simply as GM) is known for railroading to an extreme, to the point that we've sat down to several games sessions with him stating 'There isn't really anything you can do to change what's going to happen this game, so I'm just going to narrate to you,' and flipping open page 47 of his coil notebook.
GM is also known for accusing his players of min-maxing over the tiniest little things. For example, he threw a fit the last time a player proposed an absent-minded bookish-type character with the 'near-sighted' flaw, since 'glasses cancel out the flaw completely, you MUNCHKIN.'
That being said, he's been a good guy (until the events depicted in this post!) and we occasionally lose our sanity every year or so and let him run something. This time it was in the World of Darkness setting.
Prior to the game, he sat down and accused us of sticking to our 'standard character archetypes.' Okay, fair enough.
He dares the player who liked playing the intellectual-types to make a mindless biker gang bruiser, and the challenge was accepted. I was told I needed to play something a little more...emotional. Thus, Gay Gordon Ramsey the Fashion Designer was born. He had a different name, of course, but it was how I pitched it to the GM, and both he and the other players alike referred to my character as Gay Gordon Ramsey out-of-character. So, whatever.
We're playing in a college this particular evening. There's a great coffee shop indoors that's open all night, and there's about a dozen people at any given time hanging around and studying in the area. There is also, later in this story, a guy cooking ramen noodles. That's important.
ANYWAY.
The stage is set for an epic investigative adventure. New Orleans, 1984. We're keeping an eye open for anything obviously paranormal taking place, but trying not to draw attention to ourselves. The session drags on endlessly as GM narrates, and finally it's time for us to do something.
GM: As you enter the biker bar, you notice something.....unusual. The scent of blood.
Player: Wait, like from a barfight?
GM: YES. It is faint, but there.
Player: Is it, um....fresh blood?
GM: No. In fact, you get the distinct impression that it's a fairly standard smell in this place.
Player: But it's....the smell of old blood. In a biker bar.
GM: YES.
Player: I...use my associated supernatural-tracking abilities to see if there's anything weird about this place.
GM: Nope.
So the player tries to make small talk with the bartender and pick up on whatever lead the GM is trying to give us, but to no avail. We can tell this isn't going according to his plan by the veins in his neck, so we suggest he swap over to the 'second' team for awhile.
GM: As you walk down the street, several frat boys whistle at <GM's Girlfriend Character Here>.
Girlfriend: Um, my character is like, 16.
GM: They don't care, they're drunk. The hand you a flyer and invite you to the big kegger that's going on.
Me: I say 'She's with me, expletive-deleted-heads. You might want to keep going.'
GM: So wait, you're not letting her go?
Me: What? Well, I guess she can if she WANTS, but we're trying to advance the whole supernatural-monsters-plot, and I don't think underage molestation will help with that. Y'know. At all.
At this point, the GM loses it. He leaps to his feet, attempts to rip the notebook in half, fails, and starts shouting accusations.
GM: You obviously ignored my VERY blatant plot hook in the bar...
Us: What, that was a plot hook?
GM: Like you didn't know! Old blood? VAMPIRES?!
Player: Oh, huh. I didn't..really get that at all.
GM: Don't play dumb! You're intentionally sabotaging this! And you!
He points a malicious finger at me, and his voice starts trembling.
GM: You’re not even TRYING to be gay!
At this point the GM begins crying, big crocodile tears rolling down his face, and we're feeling pretty guilty. I mean, I'm not sure you've seen a grown man blubber over vampires recently unless you're a Twilight fan (That's right. I went there.), but it's REALLY hard not to suddenly feel ashamed of yourself and embarrassed on their behalf during something like this.
So we try to calm him down, but it's no use - he's shoving his books inside this tattered old knapsack and trying to blink the tears out of his eyes.
Remember, college. A dozen staring people. One guy cooking ramen in a microwave.
So GM slings his bag over his shoulder and starts tromping out, Girlfriend staring shocked after him. As he passes Ramen Guy, the dude loudly proclaims in the most hipster voice I've heard in months, "Dude, relax."
What a jerk.
GM loses it. This was the last straw. He was not about to be told to RELAX by someone wearing sandals and cooking fried noodles. With a scream of rage, GM grabs the microwave with both hands, rips the plug out of the wall, and HURLS it towards the coffeeshop. It smashes the glass casing over the pastries and bounces off the back wall. Glass everywhere.
GM starts weeping again and runs out of the cafeteria as a girl starts dialing campus security on her cellphone. We have to answer some very, very awkward questions.
We don't see GM around anymore.