Every DnD game that starts out with a serious “Lord of the Rings” type of tone turns into a Monty Python sketch and every DnD game that starts out like a Monty Python sketch turns into Lord of the Rings

DnD game with characters named Kua the Brave, Enoch Bluehelm, and Hallow Greaves: Our current mission is to save the kingdom from the Dark Queen Ravenbone but we fucked up a charisma roll and now Kua and Ravenbone are dating and the king of Fendale was turned into a frog

DnD game with characters named Bunny Wabbit, Ford Trukk, and Dildo Baggins: Our current mission is to find a birthday present for a spoiled prince but in the process we found a lich planning to devour the life force of everyone in the land and Dildo gave his life to stop him in a scene so moving it won the Newberry Medal

If you give your players room to do whatever they want, including be silly, they will most often choose to express themselves. And you'd be amazed how much you'll start to care about characters once people have attached little pieces if their soul to them.

If you try to enforce a "serious" tone, it just makes the gags funnier, and your players will treat you with the same casual blasphemy orangutans show to God.

"the same casual blasphemy orangutans show to God" WHAT THE FUCK I'M DECEASED

Snagged this from another post about making silly characters and about how you'll eventually regret it. No, you won't. Not if you're doing it correctly. If you're doing correctly the silly and the serious eventually blend together until you have scenes like that Session 40 one. This can be glorious.

You’ll grow to love Slappy. Even if as he’s dying you’re sobbing through “I didn’t plan for you to have plot”, you’ll love him.

...I just noticed Slappy lost an eye somewhere between session one and session 40. I need LORE.

For the people asking: I know this looks edited but it really isn’t

Samurai Jack really do be like that sometimes

Source: BuddyGator.com

Do you ever just see something that’s just

SO NICE

And so cute and wholesome

That you start crying because you just want the whole world to be this adorable all the time <3

I woke up out of a dead sleep to make this and then immediately passed back out

I raise u 

Trainer Alex wants to battle!

I add

please consider

A new challenger enters the stage

how about…

You know, shoggoths are canonly beings bred to be slaves, who became intelligent and rebelled against the Elder Things that treated them like animals. Even when they were made aware that the shoggoths now had independent minds, the Elder Things continued to force them to labor under them. The shoggoths exterminated the Elder Things after they failed to gain their freedom.

And yet I have never once seen them portrayed sympathetically. They're even one of the few Cthulhu Mythos beings canonly capable of taking on a completely human appearance, if their alien features were an issue. They're even intimated to be the ancestors of all life on Earth.

Also, they canonly fought Cthulhu himself, and all his children.

We could have a little more appreciation for them than depicting them as disgusting mindless cannon fodder, is all I'm saying.

Howard “Pthe Scariest Monster is a Lower Class Defeating its Oppressor” Lovecraft

But yeah there should be hero shoggoths

The future of gaming is here..

everything about the gestures o the hands convey the concept of a robot that is absolutely fucking pumped to pet a cat and then panics when it doesnt go right

animal petting

“Well hello there, Chere.” In second year, we did a narrative unit where we had to have a go at someone else’s story. We had limited choices, but i chose A midsummer night’s dream. I had this lovely idea of a New Orleans version, with Baron Samedi and Mama Brigitte as oberon and titania, a jumped up greaser poltergeist as Puck and relevant sacrificial animals as fairies.     Hence the chicken. I did so much research on this, i learned so much about voodooism. So awesome and such a serious practise. These two gods seemed perfect to act as fairy royalty.   Again an old piece, maybe two years old? But the ink is still good, I think. Enjoy

Edit, people seem to like this, would anyone be interested in me completing the scene? like i planned out the whole confrontation scene in 2014.   Any thoughts? 

Reposting from my main blog, want to keep it with all the other work on it i’m planning on doing! It’ll be under the tag; If we shadows though.

screw mtbi the real personality test is how many steps there are in your skincare routine

mine is 8 steps

2 if you count washing your face with facial cleanser

1) have skin

2) keep it on

You guys are keeping your skin on?

I want genre movies with all the genre conventions but set in historical period pieces. I want paranormal horror in the mesopotamia. I want an ancient greek heist movie. I want a scifi invasion film set during the 1500s, I want fast and the furious type movie but set in 1800s napoleonic france.

the x-files theme just started playing in my head but like... with mandolins

a-HEM

I think there’s a really unfortunate trend in people’s thinking that like, belonging to a marginalized or oppressed group makes you an ethically better person (either generally or individually) and like that sort of moralism is really unhelpful to any discussion and also doesn’t track into reality. It also results in like, someone’s status as an oppressed person being revoked by their individual moral failings, which obviously makes no actual sense

how do you guys feel about my lock screen

OP do you take constructive criticism?

there is nothing to criticize here

Who the hell organize apps by color

Mind your business

what does it say about us as a culture that most of our microwaves have a dedicated popcorn button

i dont know but whatever it says, its magnified by literally every bag of popcorn saying “don’t use the popcorn button”

Funnily enough, there’s an answer for that.

In brief, the “popcorn” button was initially introduced by fancy high-end microwaves that used an integrated humidity sensor to tell when your popcorn was done; microwaveable popcorn vents steam as it cooks, so by monitoring the amount of steam in the cooking chamber, you can get pretty close to perfectly popped popcorn every time (though it’s generally only pretty close, since different brands of microwaveable popcorn have different moisture content).

As the feature became popular, manufacturers of cheap microwaves started adding a button labelled “popcorn” as well, in order to imply that they offer this feature. These “popcorn” buttons simply run the microwave for a fixed amount of time that the manufacturer figures is close enough to the printed cooking time of most commercial brands.

In practice, of course, the fixed-time “popcorn” button usually just sets your popcorn on fire. To make matters worse, owing to America’s permissive advertising laws, microwave manufacturers are allowed to make all sorts of misleading-but-technically-true statements in their packaging and instruction manuals, rendering it nearly impossible to tell whether a given model of microwave has a real humidity-sensing “popcorn” button or a fake fixed-time “popcorn” button before buying it.

In summary: the “popcorn” button that your microwave popcorn instructs you not to use exists because American microwave manufacturers are using a misleadingly labelled button in order to imply that their product has a feature that it does not in fact have, in a way that can potentially trick people into burning their houses down, for advertising purposes. This is perfectly legal.

So: what does that say about our culture?

Consider. A human wakes up in a strange medical bay, with an alien doctor standing over them. Turns out their shuttle crashed, and the alien ship only just managed to teleport the, on board in time.

By some miracle, the doctor explains, they escaped with only minor injuries. Some burns, a few scratches and “several small wounds. We’re not sure what caused them.”

“Wounds?”

“Small holes in your ear lobes. Possibly they were old wounds and unrelated to the accident, but either way, our doctors were able to heal them for you. There’s not even any scarring.”

The human pauses. Thinks for a minute. “Wait… you unpierced my ears?!”

“I… Suppose we did?  Is that a problem?”

“Er, not exactly.  It can be redone. though it’s not gonna be fun.  But my people do that to ourselves on purpose.  It’s self-ornamental…  I don’t know the word.  We decorate ourselves with small stones and bits of shaped metal or plastic.”

“Oh!!  I’m sorry, that’s a fairly rare behavior among sapients.  Why, if I may ask?”

“uh.  It…  Looks cool?  I guess?”

“…My experience with humans is limited, but I gather that’s the reason for many of your behaviors.”

*from the next bay over comes the anguished scream of your co-pilot*

“WHERE THE FUCKING FUCK ARE MY TATTOOS?!”

Democrats👏are👏not👏your👏friends👏

I'm sorry she what

This woman is the personification of the "Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss" meme. Manic Pixie Dream Centrist ass.

Your first bisexual Senator, everyone! Hope the ~~representation~~ was worth it. Hope you're feeling seen while working class bi people starve to death!

She also apparently brought a fucking cake like how much more cartoonishly evil can you get??

She saw Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette movie where's she's this mid-00's indie twee princess and thought it was an instructional movie, apparently.

hello i dont know you but based on this reblog we are enemies now. i hope you have a terrible week

You’re absolutely right

yknow 1 of the little things i appreciate about kid icarus is how realistically pit’s outfit accommodates his wings

But the real question is how does he get his spandex top on over his wings

here’s a little drawing i made hopefully explaining it:

Even better question: How does he get out of it again. 8D

alright, well i’ve seen a few people asking this, so i’m back again (this time on my main blog) to try to explain it:

i hope this clears anything up!

Do you have wings

“My position has been compromised. The Grounded know of my wings”

Do any other american high schoolers have intense survivor’s guilt and trauma with school shootings even though they weren’t at your school?

Like. A laser tag place opened geared towards teenagers and it got no business, we tried to enjoy it but when someone pointed a laser machine gun at me and I instinctively dropped behind the nearest wall and reached to turn off my phone I cried, I wasn’t the only one. The announcements system turns on at an unexpected time and everyone holds their breath until they say something besides “locks, lights, out of sight,” nobody even jokingly pops chip bags anymore, a door slammed really loud during a class change and everyone dropped and ran. Everyone cries during drills, even the toughest ranch kids. Every drill comes with a full day of teachers crying and telling us that they love us all so much and will die for us, and every kid in every class looking around wondering who would I die for? Who would die for me? You walk to the bathroom and wonder every second if it happens right now, where will I go? You test supply closet doors to see which ones are unlocked, you memorize which furniture in the teachers’ lounge your English teacher says is light enough to barricade a door with. The fire alarm goes off and nobody moves, instead you wait for gunshots—it a trap? You stand with a group of freshmen and realize that you’re the oldest, you know you’ll have to die for them. You forget your ID tag and worry that now the police won’t be able to tell your parents if you’re safe, or not safe. Your stats teacher has a baseball bat by the door, your math teacher keeps a stapler under each desk to throw, your drama teacher asks who will be willing to stand by the non-locking door with the Shakespearean swords. Your yearbook teacher tells you don’t worry about breaking a camera because you heard about the kids who died holding them. You don’t use the bathroom during classes because you don’t want to be the only target to shoot at. You keep your phone on silent 24/7 because you worry the one time you forget will be when you get your whole US History class killed. You have a snap saved with your class schedule and school and full name to send in an instant to your internet friends so they know if you were on that wing, you have a note saved with the things you want your mom to know and the things you’re sorry for. At the age of 12 I was told I needed to know who I would die for and that it was okay if it was nobody, that was my decision to make. School shootings control us more than adults and non-Americans could possibly imagine and nobody moves to change anything unless we’re actively screaming for it. Have you considered we’re too scared?

The absolute fuck. The fuck did I just read. This sounds like dystopian fiction. The fucking fuck.

It isn’t. This is 100% the reality of all American children - not the ones that live in bad neighborhoods, not the ones that make bad choices, ALL OF THEM.

Welcome to America.

This reminds me of a discussion we had in one of my classes the other day-

My professor was describing how everyone from her generation had the same nightmare of a nuke going off. In they dream they all saw the same mushroom cloud and everything. She said that she didn’t think my generation had a dream like that; one that everyone shared and had

For a while none of us could disagree with her. Until this popped up. I raised my hand and mentioned that everyone I knew had an active shooter dream at one point or another. And Every. Single. Person. Nodded. All of us had that dream. All of us.

Pretty telling, huh?

The mere notion that highschool children might have survivor’s guilt is sickening

I’m a 32 year old adult and I have this. It’s been going on that long.

One time in high school there was a gun fired at a house like half a block away and the guy fled with the gun so we had to shut down. I was in sculpture class at the time. We had these cool art rooms with big factory style windows to let in a lot of light. But they were old and the door to the outside had a broken lock.

We knew it was unlikely the person would come to the school. But it was a real enough possibility. My teacher (my favorite teacher) was a former naval officer and stood by the door with a broken lock and told us he would take them down if anyone came for us. I’m sure every person in that room knew that he would and that we might have to watch him die if it came to that. And that’s a super fucked up thing to have put on you when you’re a teen with a still developing brain.

This is now a multiple generational trauma. I just want people to realize how fucked up that is. This has been going on SO long, with NO gun reform that people in their 30s and younger ALL have this.

Not to mention having a parent who works in a school and a small part of your brain wondering every day if this is the day your parent doesn’t come home.

It’s no wonder that anxiety disorders and ptsd are rampant in the US. Look at what we have to deal with as children.

I need to talk about a building that was built at my alma mater, to prove that these fears do not go away when you go to college.

It's supposed to be one of those fancy, post-modern buildings that has classrooms along the edges and wide open study areas. Ostensibly it was made for the business majors, but for a time multiple types of classes were taught there so other buildings could renovate... and I fucking. HATED taking classes in this building, because it's like they purposefully designed it to be a goddamn shooting gallery.

The building had five floors: the first two make up the "common area" and are separated by multiple smaller levels of stairs and study nooks, while above three catwalks span above this exact area. The main entrances are at the opposite ends of the two lower floors, so to escape the area from the study books you have to decide if you want to run uphill or down, with uneven staggered steppes and your assailant right above you.

And it gets worse: the classroom walls are made of glass. All of them. The only major exception is the bathrooms and well... we've discussed why that is an ineffective hiding place. And it's nice to know that the engineers had the forethought to make this glass earthquake proof, but... a bullet is not like an earthquake. And even if the glass walls stopped the bullets, they would tell the shooter exactly how many targets the next room contained. And of course, each room only had one entrance/exit.

Fuck Karl Miller Center, and whatever tone-deaf architect designed it.