More fun facts about ancient Celtic marriage laws: There were no laws against interclass or interracial marriage, no laws against open homosexual relationships (although they weren’t considered ‘marriages’ since the definition of a marriage was ‘couple with child’), no requirement for women to take their husband’s names or give up their property, but comedians couldn’t get married
It’s Adam and Eve not Adam Sandler and Eve
I want to expound upon “comedians couldn’t get married” thing because it’s actually really interesting.
Satire was respected in Ancient Ireland. It was thought to have great power, enough to physically maim the subject one was making jokes about. Satirists could bring down kings with a witty enough insult. That was actually their original function. When the king didn’t do right by his people, a bard was supposed to compose a poem so scathing it would raise welts on the king’s skin to oust him (it was illegal for a “blemished” king to rule.) Unwarranted satire was considered a form of assault.
So what it boils down to is ancient Celts being like “These people are too dangerous to reproduce. DO NOT TRUST THEM WITH CHILDREN. EVER.”
This is literally the most bomb-ass D&D story I’ve ever read in my life oh my god.
Holy shit ._.
Some RP sessions have better stories than actual fiction. I mean, goddamn.
For those having trouble reading the text:
We had a campaign in D&D where we assembled a steampunk-ish time machine. After many sessions travelling through time, uncovering mysteries and learning harsh lessons about changing history, we had to stop a time-travelling cult from destroying the gods, and therefore the world. We failed.
Our machine crashed, we were stranded earlier than we had ever been able to travel. We found the Gods, but only a few of them were present – it was as if some had never existed. Then we realised – we had to become those Gods. Our party was entirely divine (Cleric, Paladin, Avenger, Invoker), and each of us was a worshipper of a god who had been unmade – and we were the only people in existence with enough knowledge of the forgotten deities to assume their roles.
But two of the players were worshippers of Io (in his twin forms of Tiamat and Bahamut, who would of course form later after Io’s ‘death’), and only one could become Io. The other would have to be the un-created Asmodeus.
So the most just, honourable and dedicated Lawful Good paladin I’ve ever seen roleplayed became the god of tyranny and evil. If he hadn’t, the gods would never have defeated the primordials, and the world would never have been completed.
In our setting, Asmodeus is every bit the epitome of evil you would expect him to be. Nobody but the gods who abide his presence know him as otherwise. He adheres to his role because he knows he has to – and that in doing so, the world can exist. He can never tell anyone his duty, and no-one who knows can ever discuss it.
In the farthest recesses of the Nine Hells, in a chamber sealed tighter than any other in existence is a pocketwatch of finest gnome craft with a photo of his family in it – his wife, son, and little baby girl.
They were killed by an orc army marching under the orders and banner of Asmodeus. Their deaths are what drove him to become an adventurer.
the princess bride is exactly what a dnd campaign would look like as a movie like? the delightfully weird cast of characters with their own quirks, the strange pacing and narrative that still Works, the absolute absurdity of it all, the jumping back and forth between wanting to be serious and it being really funny, hell its even Told like a dnd story through the use of the grandfather being the one telling the story
what a fantastic fucking movie
also like the character backstories are SUCH dnd backgrounds like? “im out for revenge for my father who was killed by a guy with six fingers on one of his hands” “i bumped into a band of pirates and their leader liked me so much he ended up having me take on his title to retire”
that is the Exact shit that people come up with for dnd characters
DM: having narrowly escaped Humperdinck, you find yourselves in the dangerous Fire Swamps
Westley: do I know anything about this area? Any danger?
DM: roll a history check
Westley: 15
DM: you know of rumors of giant rats in the swamps, as well as quick sand
Westley: what do I know about the giant rats?
DM: roll nature
Westley: [nat 1] …… rodents of unusual size? I don’t think they exist
Not everything a DM tries works out as intended. Sometimes a story arc falls flat, or a little extra description causes the party to halt for a few hours to fiddle with a rock…. it happens.
I was in a Lovecraftian GURPS campaign set in UK in the 1980s that ground to a halt for a solid hour because one of the players was adamant that we calculate the exact cost of plane tickets for our team.
Truly, rules lawyers are an eldritch abomination.
lifehack if the players are obsessed with something give it to them. Often a small interesting answer will make them stop faster than a hundred boring ones.
once my players rifled through some dead goblins’ clothes and i didnt expect that (dumb, i know) so i put a “very smooth pebble” in a pocket and the players were so interested in it they almost started a fight over it
i was one of the players and we were valid
very early in my campaign – like, 2 or 3 sessions in – the party went to explore a shipwreck. among the loot in the wreck was a black marble statue of a goddess called Blibdoolpoolp. I found her name in a list of d&d deities and thought she sounded cool. her domain is crustaceans and madness, which fit with the overall tone of my bullshit campaign, so I threw her in for a bit of ~flavor~
the party got… attached.
they lugged that statue back with them when they left the shipwreck, even though they were being chased by a sea serpent. they brought it back to the inn where they were staying. in-character, they started seeking out all the information they could about this silly throwaway goddess.
out of character, they started flooding the group chat with lobster memes.
eventually – and I mean, like, several months later – I just gave in and let them have a whole adventure fighting a cult that worked for Blibdoolpoolp, defeating the cult, and letting them take over as Blibdoolpoolp’s primary worshippers. she’s their patron deity now and showers them with crustacean-themed blessings.
reblog to be showered by crustacean-themed blessings
“crustaceans” is an INCREDIBLE domain, what powers do you get as a cleric if you take the crustaceans domain
Playing 5th edition for the first time and feeling overwhelmed? Here’s a quick glimpse into the classes.
Barbarian
Fundamentally: It’s like when you step on a Lego in the middle of the night and for a moment your capacity for rational thought is eclipsed by the fact that the entire world must tremble before the unfathomable depths of your wrath. Only with fewer Legos and more swords and stuff.
Mechanically: You can go into a rage in battle that diminishes the damage you take and increases the damage you deal. A lot of your fighting is based on high-risk, high-reward strategies, intimidation, and instinct rather than careful calculation.
Bard
Fundamentally: The words you speak change the shape of the minds around you. You’ve taken motivational speaking to a whole new level. You can also insult someone so hard they die from it.
Mechanically: Your day-to-day repertoire of spells stays the same (once you’ve learned a spell, it tends to stick in your head) and also pulls from a lot of different specializations. You can also inspire your allies, mess with your enemies’ morale, and, yes, insult someone so hard they die from it.
Cleric
Fundamentally: You’re pretty tight with some sort of higher power who’s granted you abilities commensurate with their sphere of influence. You might be a warm and fuzzy beacon of light and love, you might heal the sick, or you might make swarms of insects descend on your screaming foes. God stuff, you know?
Mechanically: You have access to a huge number of spells but don’t know them all off by heart, so every morning you spend some time in prayer and contemplation to make sure a few of them are ready at your fingertips when you need them most.
Druid
Fundamentally: You can turn into animals and control a lot of powerful magic that’s tied in with nature and the elements. You also may have read too many Animorphs books as a kid.
Mechanically: Much like clerics, you have a huge number of spells potentially at your disposal but have to concentrate each morning on picking out which ones you’ll pack with you. You can also, you know, turn into animals. That’s a thing.
Fighter
Fundamentally: You probably watch a lot of action movies and wince every time a character pulls off an amazing fight despite not having any experience or training. You’ve worked very hard to learn strategy, tactics, and precision, and when the stars align, the whole battlefield is yours to control.
Mechanically: Depending on your specialty, you’ll have a variety of abilities to make combat go a little more smoothly for you and your friends: taunting enemies so they focus on the right people, shielding your squishier allies, or just doling out an absurd amount of hurt.
Monk
Fundamentally: You think people get a little weird about their swords; you’ve never needed more than just your fists and maybe a good stick. You’re highly trained and absurdly dexterous: if someone tries to pull a coin out from behind your ear, they’ll probably find themselves with a rabbit in their hand instead and no idea what happened.
Mechanically: You’re so quick that you can snatch arrows out of mid-air. You’re also very centered on precise, devastating strikes, and have a store of ki points that allow you to do special attacks/defenses.
Paladin
Fundamentally: While clerics are generally a little more buddy-buddy or reverential with their divine patrons, yours is something more of an… employer. You know how it is when you’re on the clock: sometimes you gotta do your best to be the good you want to see in the world, and sometimes you gotta swear to enact vengeance for ancient wrongs. It’s a living.
Mechanically: Your singularly goal-oriented abilities are a blend between magic and more traditional combat, and you can frequently use magic spells to imbue weaponry with divine power. You also have an impressive ability to suss out both strong good and strong evil.
Ranger
Fundamentally: You know the wilderness pretty darn well (and probably complain about weekend hikers a lot). Your idea of a good time is being dropped in the woods without a map and having to puzzle your way out, preferably while hunting a few monstrosities along the way…
Mechanically: Your experience and survival instincts will serve you especially well in particular regions (a favored terrain you select) and against particular enemies (a favored type you select). You pick up a bit of magic here and there, mainly to help yourself and your friends make it through the wilderness unscathed.
Rogue
Fundamentally: You’re a very sneaky person who figures the best battle is the one that you ensure is over before it even gets a chance to start… mostly because you know if you get cornered you’ll probably get squashed like a bug. It’s probably a good thing that you’re so stealthy you practically vanish into another dimension.
Mechanically: You get huge bonuses and incentives for attacking first or when an opponent is distracted. You’re also notoriously quick-fingered and can be assured that if something ever goes missing, every eye in the room is going to be looking at you. Whoops.
Sorcerer
Fundamentally: You’ve got some powerful magical abilities that just sort of… happen, and your control over them is a little shaky at best. But it’s fine, it’s all good, you’ve got it handled. That tree was always on fire, right?
Mechanically: You learn a limited selection of powerful spells that are always at your disposal, and also gain access to a pool of Sorcery Points that will let you further manipulate your magic as you get more and more comfortable with your spellcasting.
Warlock
Fundamentally: Some incredibly shifty and absurdly powerful ancient being decided you seemed kind of neat, so they were all, “Hey, how would you like to have some seriously freaky magic in exchange for making a sorta dodgy pact with me?” and you were all, “alksdjflgk???” because hey, otherworldly and unfathomable, and they were all, “Cool, have fun,” and now you can kill things with your brain.
Mechanically: You have an extremely limited number of very powerful spells, but your spellcasting recharges very quickly, since the channel between you and the source of your magical abilities is pretty darn open. You also made a pact with something strange and a little bit unknowable. What could go wrong?
Wizard
Fundamentally: You’re the kind of person who got all A’s in school but also studied their ass off to do it. It’s like you read Harry Potter so many times that you managed to will magic into existence. You’re probably going to drag the party to every used bookstore on the planet.
Mechanically: You have a spellbook that contains every spell you know. Every day, you have to study up on a handful of these spells that you want to have immediately at your fingertips. You can add to the spellbook by finding more spells out in the world and copying them down using fancy-ass stationery.
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