There is, undoubtedly, a humorous side to dungeon expeditions.
This being the standard comedy routine provided, unwittingly, by the
characters for the amusement of the DM.

First, I would like to thank the innovator of the Denebian Slime
Devil (whose name escapes me) for the shrieks of dismay, numerous
acts of Hari-Kari, and shouts of “Why me Lord?” that occur in my
d u n g e o n .

Upon one occasion, a cleric, a fighter (myself) and their respective
hired fighters came upon the door to a room that they knew to contain
numerous orcs. (having been badly chewed up here before) Remembering
their past two experiences with said orcs, and not wishing to receive
any more scars, the fighter quickly spiked the door solidly shut. (seven
spikes) After this was finished, the cleric, using every point of his seven
intelligence, decided to stir up the orcs inside by banging on the door
with his mace. As the fighter consulted his hireling (a former carpenter)
as to whether more spikes might be needed, the cleric soundly rapped
the door as he had planned, while the rest of the party looked on with
horror.

Much to the cleric’s pleasure, the orcs scrabbled madly at the door,
trying to get out. The cleric thought this so humorous that he proceeded
to rap the door again, getting an equally violent reaction from the orcs.
Two spikes came loose and fell to the floor.

At this point the fighter was reaching for his length of rope, eyeing
the beams overhead for their strength, and attempting to remember
how to make a hangman’s noose.

The cleric, chuckling to himself, decided that such great fun
shouldn’t stop and so repeated his act. Now the spikes remaining began
to bend, and the door to bulge before the furious onslaught of the orcs.
The fighter had decided that his sword would be much quicker, and was
drawing it.

Then the cleric, oblivious to any danger, rapped the door a fourth
and final time. For the furious orcs, this was the last straw. The door
burst open and out rushed six seething-mad orcs.

At this point the bravery of the cleric shined true as he grabbed his
hireling by the arm (not wishing to lose an investment) and beat a hasty
retreat up the hall. And so the battle was on. Both fighters hacked and
sliced furiously, and, with a twinge of guilt, the cleric halted his retreat
and ordered his hireling to load up his crossbow and try to hit an orc or
two.

In the end, all the orcs were slain, (one by a crossbow bolt I might
add) but alas, so was the fighter. His dying words were addressed to his
hireling, and they were, “get that cleric!” Unfortunately, when one is
faced with a loaded crossbow, he loses his former loyalty.

As an epilogue, this same cleric convinced the slain fighter’s son to
accompany him back to the same dungeon and room. As before, the
door was firmly spiked, but this time when the cleric raised his mace to
repeat his act, he received a quick sword-pommel between the eyes.
This seems to have cured him of the habit of door-banging.

At other points in time, this guy, (as a fighter) performed other
feats of amazing stupidity. At one time he locked a Hobbit and his pet
wolves in with a Balrog. Luckily for the Hobbit, he had enough
magical weaponry to defeat it, but when he got out of the room he was
seething mad. (wouldn’t you be?) Another time, when his hireling had
been snatched up by a giant praying mantis, he whipped out his crossbow
and began to fire. Although he missed the mantis with both shots,
on the second shot he managed to hit his hireling in the back, killing
him instantly.

And, for those of you D.M.'s who have never encountered such a
creature and are skeptical as to the existence of more than one, I offer a
second case whom I’ll call Tallman. On his first expedition, Tallman’s
character set off on his own. Upon searching a small junk-filled chamber,
he found two items that he felt were of importance, an old broom
and a secret door. He proceeded to beat and kick on the door, but it absolutely
refused to open. All else having, failed, he snatched up the old
broom and charged the door with it in hand. (like a mounted lance) All
he got for his troubles was a temporary -3 on his dexterity score for
splinters. As he decided his next course of action, he happened to lean
against that door, which swung open immediately. The fall he took cost
him 1 hit point. Thankfully, this character was killed a few turns later
by a N’gruths.

On his second expedition, as a magic-user, Tallman continued in
his fine comedic tradition and even got funnier. On said expedition, he
was accompanied by a 14th level wizard called Elross the Green, a
Myrmidon whose name I never did learn, and several of Elross’s hirelings.

The first room they visited was empty, but Tallman (the peon of
the group) wouldn’t even get within ten feet of it. Since it was empty
anyway, Elross let it go at that. After they had opened the door of the
next room, however, he bravely volunteered when I mentioned that
they was coins on the floor. Unfortunately, Elross had different plans,
and tripped Tallman before he could get to the door.

The coins having been collected, they moved on to the next door.
Elross, having been here before, had encountered one of my footpads
who lurk over the door so as to leap down on unsuspecting foes, and as
such was very cautious.

The footpad was pried off the wall with a ten foot pole and, thanks
to two archers in Elross’s employ, a slaughter ensued. After the footpad
was finished off, Tallman was told to search the room. Tallman refused,
making a rude noise and calling Elross an old, shriveled up, twobit
fraud. At that, Elross decided to prove that he could use magic, by
POLYMORPHing Tallman into a small stone. He then picked up the
stone, chucked it into the room, dispelled the POLYMORPH, and then
slammed and WIZARD LOCKed the door.

So there he stood, naked and shivering, in a cold and damp room
all by himself, all the time giving us his rendition of the old “what-did-
I-ever-do-to-deserve-this?” routine. Having nothing better to do until
they let him out, Tallman searched the room, finding a bag that appeared
to be filled with silver.

He then asked a thoroughly rhetorical question, “What should I
do?” To which the Myrmidon quickly replied, “Quick, Tallman, sleep
the bag!” He then did so, using his only spell.

At this point he loudly protested that he had ought to get some-
thing for the expended magical energy. I agreed, but had to politely inform
him that doggie biscuits were not standard fare in my dungeon,
but he continued to protest. Finally I said, “All right Tallman, but
don’t complain again!” I then rolled percentile dice and an idea was
born. I looked up with a big grin on my face and said, “The bag has
fallen over and one coin has fallen out, also you hear a snore from the
bag.” “Congratulations Tallman, you’ve just invented the sleeping
bag!” Also my favorite pun is the one that came to mind when a character
was incinerated by a strange beam of light. I commented, “Well,
he certainly made an ash of himself!”

The list is almost endless. I myself have pulled one on a D.M. while
in his dungeon. I played his favorite album quietly while the expedition
was in progress. I have never won so many melees so quickly in my life.
After the expedition, as we were figuring experience, I asked what the
experience points would be on a subdued D.M.

With all this humor going on in the dungeon, is it any wonder that
a certain figurine company’s “Lesser Orc” figures have what we affectionately
call the “Snaga Smile?”

THE OTHER HUMOROUS SIDE OF D&D®: or,
You Don’t Kill Too Many Characters, Do You?
by Mike Crane
 

-	-	Part 1	-	-
Dungeons & Dragons	-	Dragon magazine	-	The Dragon #21

A while back in TD, there was an article entitled “They shoot
hirelings, don’t they?". This article told of the many humorous things that
the players did in the author’s area, to the amusement of the DM. Well,
here in my area, exactly the opposite is true. The DM, instead of the
players performs many humorous stunts, every adventure, without fail.

On one such adventure we set out, complete with 4 player characters,
10 or so non-human guards, and 3 dancing girls (I never found out why
they came along). Our mission was to rescue a mighty King’s daughter. Why,
I asked, why is this mighty king (who had legions at his command)
sending a bunch of clods like us after his daughter (our highest character
was level 3)? But of course our DM had an answer, “Well you see, he
doesn’t like her very much”.

On approaching the site of her captors’ stronghold we found that it
was a solid block of marble, without any visible doors. Immediately on
arriving we were also chased by 30 bandits. Picking the better part of
valor, we ran, only to be chased. Knowing how bandits like dancing girls
we shouted back that we’d give them one if they’d stop chasing us. They
agreed, and we told the DM we were throwing the dancing girl down. The
DM then informed us that she hit her head on a rock when we dropped her
from the high altitude of 4 feet, and so the bandits were still chasing us.
Luckily we lost them, but the DM informed us it took our group 1 day to
cover 600 yards because the bandits had left 1 man. Of course if we
attacked, his yell would then summon the rest of the bandits (in their camp
7 miles away).

After coming back to the marble block he informs us that he decided
that it was now 600 yards high-no it didn’t grow, he just decided it should
be 600 yards high. We then finally found a secret door and entered. But,
of course, it wasn’t a regular door — most of us took damage when we
went in (why, I never found out).

Going down the hall, one character was burned to ash by some type
of ray. Finally coming to another door we tried to open it — the result was
burned hands. We again tried it and it opened, revealing 20 beds. Of
course it was too dark to see the 6 inches into the beds unless we lit
torches, although the rest of the building was magically lit. We did
however, and found 8 men sleeping in the bunks. Only problem was we
couldn’t slit their throats or their blood would drip down, setting off the
sensors. Could we inject air into their veins? “Sorry, you left your needle
at home.”

Quietly leaving the room, we were informed that one of the players
fell down a pit and was impaled on the stakes below. Fine, now the trap is
sprung, right? But the DM, of course, changed his mind and changed it
from a pit to a ray machine that reduces people to ashes.

Needless to say, we were captured by 80 warriors in the next room.
Later we found out that there were magical swords but we were Clerics
so he decided it wasn’t important to tell us. We were then put into cells,
only to be attacked by hordes of hungry rats. One character protested
that he was in full armor and the rats couldn’t bite through iron. But the
DM had an answer, “Well, these rats are the special ones that had their
teeth capped with steel”.

After escaping from there, we were attacked by 70 guards, who killed
all but 2 of our characters. The DM was a big help during the battle,
however: none of the players were armed and our mercenaries would not
loan us weapons. And of course, none would attack unless we led them.
He also helped us by having the slaves along with us throw one of the
players onto the swords of the guards. Needless to say, only myself,
another player, and the princess happened to escape.

Going down the stairs we found our weapons and were looking for a
way to depart, so we listened at several doors, all but one sounding like
they were filled with an army. Going into that one we found a box,
complete with 4 buttons. Pushing one, the other player character started
a security alert. Pushing another one he was teleported home. Attempting
to do the same thing, after I said this I was informed by the DM that the
box had dropped and I did not know which button to push. After a short,
fruitless debate with the DM I said I would push button #1. Upon saying
this he told me that the box had then disappeared.

He then told me “20 guards are outside the door”. Knowing this,
having no other exit, and alone with the princess I said I gave myself up.
He then told me that I was dead and the princess had escaped. Upon
inquiring on how that happened he informed me that the guards were
outside the door 70 feet away and that while I gave myself up she escaped
through another passageway that we never found. He never did tell me how 1
could hear guards 70 feet away through a marble door! We then had
a good argument about his statement that the guards were outside the
door. To this he cooly replied that I had assumed that he meant my door,
which was incorrect.

This was then topped off by him boosting the single remaining
character 2 levels instead of one. So, as you can see, the DM is often
funnier than the players!