Terrible character ideas

Mind Flayer

Mind Flayer

Some time ago, RPGNet had a thread about some of the worst character concepts ever encountered in pen-and-paper RPGs. I have no idea if posters were making some of this stuff up, and frankly I don’t give a shit. I came across some notes I made about this and thought I’d share with the group.

  • Triangular slab of magic lard
  • Zombiefied weremoose with six arms and ninja training (Buffy)
  • psychic fetus who controls his mother from the womb (BESM)
  • Ron Jeremy as a Setite (Vampire)
  • Silver Fang Garou whose only goal in life was to become the district manager for his local McDonald’s chain (Werewolf)
  • “The Invincible Hammer-Wheel. He has hammers for hands and wheels for feet. Or maybe it’s the other way around. He was born that way. He was raised by farm implements. He lives in the woods.” (Supers)
  • Ghost of Robot: a robot that died, but his ghost remains! Now he haunt machines and electronics, but is very frustrated because they cannot be scared. Also hates the living, but not anywhere near as much.
  • A talking grizzly bear wearing a pimp suit driving a super-high-tech flying caddy convertible, bright red, and attended by a disembodied robot hand that he insisted was his Cybernetic Third Hand. His primary goals and motivations were listed as “Fuck With Shit”.
  • A nine foot tall skinless demon with a huge wang. He could breathe fire, was superstrong and could summon an Elemental, of his choosing, three times a day for seven hours each. (Which is 21 hours out of the day.) His one weakness was that to maintain his powers he had to find an Asian whore, tie her up in rope, and then masturbate over her, at least twice a day. Failure to do so would leave him vulnerable. he also had an ability called Know Everything which gave him a slim chance to know anything, going by the idea that at one point he had seen all of time and creation but could now only remember parts of it. He and the talking bear were from the same campaign and would always go in to stores and restaurants and convince people that they were simply humans in elaborate and expensive costumes, not the impossible horrors they actually were.
  • Poontangula: a superhero from Over the Edge he had a giant nose and eye’s like binoculars, or more like the cardboard tubes from inside rolls of paper towels, he was covered in stripes and had flaps of skin running between his arms and legs allowing him to fly. He could summon Mustard Goblins, which were like Black Puddings made out of mustard, and Animate Spam, which created Spam Elementals which were kind of like shoggoths made out of potted meat food product. He also shot laser beams from his goofy extended eyes. His sheet was amusing because all of his Traits were things like Falling Over Own Feet, and Smells Weird In A Bad Way, and then he had a list of flaws like Laser Eye Beams (Over the Edge)
  • a Rancor Jedi. Because lightsabers were too small for him, he’d just hold up other jedi who held on to their lightsabers. (Star Wars)
  • The Fudge-Hammer. Stretching, Density Increase & Hypnosis. All kinds of drawbacks & flaws based on his father, The Fudge-Packer. Wore an Orange and Brown Union suit, and a purple Domino Mask, with a fake mustache hanging from it. Generally sported a pair of six-shooters, which were a lot less effective than his super powers, but he liked knee-capping villains. (Supers)
  • Womb Boy…he can grow things (like guns or other useful implements) in his womb. And then he has to birth them… (Supers)
  • Super Newf. A Newfoundland trawler fisherman is caught in a radioactive storm caused by aliens. When he returns to shore, he’s a superhero. He wears a souwester and raingear, and he can fly. He carries a fishing net which he uses to entangle villains, then pummel them into submission with a radioactive codfish (Supers)
  • Dak Bigolo, Bothan Gigolo (Star Wars)
  • Gibberish McSlitherlips – The Mind Flayer Pirate. Gibberish – or Gib for short – was an Illithid pirate and slave trader. Although he could understand several languages, he was (or at least claimed to be) incapable of actually speaking any save his native tongue, which sounded like an incomprehensible string of gutteral gibberish to all non-Illithids – hence his name (his real name was supposedly impossible to pronounce without ripping out your tongue and ramming it up your nose). Rather than use his telepathic abillities to get around this handicap, Gib instead chose to communicate through his interpreter/assisstant/emergency food supply – a cowardly albino halfling named Boing, whom the Mind Flayer kept on a leash chained to his belt (or carried around in a harness strapped to his back). Boing was technically an NPC under my control, but was a coward with no combat abilities or skills, making him effectively useless for anything other than acting as his master’s translator. In combat, he would generally curl up into a quivering, whimpering ball and wait for it all to be over. He spoke with a pronounced cockney accent. Gib also had a peculiar fascination with eyebrows, and wore an oversized pair of fake ones at all times, though he steadfastly refused to acknowledge their existence, and would become annoyed whenever someone commented on them. One of his favorite methods of interrogating people was to sit across from them in an empty room and wiggle his eyebrows at them until they slowly went mad. (D&D)

Didn’t we already do this?

The health care fight, I mean. Barack Obama was elected president partially on promises to help make health care more affordable. But oh noes big government! So the Democratic Congress and the president made change after change until they had a bill that kept our same overly pricey system of private insurance but at least gave people a chance to get that insurance if they had the bad taste to be one of the 87.6 million Americans who had to go without insurance during the year. Republicans voted that down despite it being chock-full of their own suggestions, lied about the bill’s contents to whip voters into a frenzy, got themselves a majority in the House of Representatives, and staged a pointless repeal that won’t go anywhere. I’ve written about this in other guises on other sites, but I just found a post that puts things nicely. CNN journalist Anderson Cooper points out that 87.6 million Americans–the number of people who were without health insurance at some point during 2008–equals the population of the top 273 American cities combined.

If you combined the populations of New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Houston, Phoenix, Philadelphia, San Antonio, Dallas, San Diego, San Jose, Detroit, San Francisco, Jacksonville, Indianapolis, Austin, Columbus, Fort Worth, Charlotte, Memphis, Baltimore, El Paso, Boston, Milwaukee, Denver, Seattle, Nashville, Washington DC, Las Vegas, Portland, Louisville, Oklahoma City, Tucson, Atlanta, Albuquerque, Fresno, Sacramento, Long Beach, Mesa, Kansas City, Omaha, Cleveland, Virginia Beach, Miami, Oakland, and Raleigh, you’d still have less people than the number of people in America who don’t have health insurance. . . .

So, in addition to everyone in cities from New York City to Raleigh being without health insurance for at least some time in the last two years, add every resident of Tulsa, Minneapolis, Colorado Springs, Honolulu, Arlington, Wichita, St. Louis, Tampa, Santa Ana, Anaheim, Cincinnati, Bakersfield, Aurora, New Orleans, Pittsburgh, Riverside, Toledo, Stockton, Corpus Christi, Lexington, St. Paul, Anchorage, Newark, Buffalo, Plano, Henderson, Lincoln, Fort Wayne, Glendale, Greensboro, Chandler, St. Petersburg, and Jersey City.

Add every resident from Scottsdale, Norfolk, Madison, Orlando, Birmingham, Baton Rouge, Durham, Laredo, Lubbock, Chesapeake, Chula Vista, Garland, Winston-Salem, North Las Vegas, Reno, Gilbert, Hialeah, Arlington, Akron, Irvine, Rochester, Boise City, Modesto, Fremont, Montgomery, Spokane, Richmond, Yonkers, Irving, Shreveport, San Bernardino, Tacoma, Glendale, Des Moines, Augusta, Grand Rapids, Huntington Beach, Mobile, Moreno Valley, Little Rock, Amarillo, Columbus, Oxnard, Fontana, Knoxville, Fort Lauderdale, Salt Lake City, Newport News, Huntsville, Tempe, Brownsville, Worcester, Fayetteville, Jackson, and Tallahassee.

Add every resident from Aurora, Ontario, Providence, Overland Park, Rancho Cucamonga, Chattanooga, Oceanside, Santa Clarita, Garden Grove, Vancouver, Grand Prairie, Peoria, Rockford, Cape Coral, Springfield, Santa Rosa, Sioux Falls, Port St. Lucie, Dayton, Salem, Pomona, Springfield, Eugene, Corona, Pasadena, Joliet, Pembroke Pines, Paterson, Hampton, Lancaster, Alexandria, Salinas, Palmdale, Naperville, Pasadena, Kansas City, Hayward, Hollywood, Lakewood, Torrance, and Syracuse.

Add every resident from Escondido, Fort Collins, Bridgeport, Orange, Warren, Elk Grove, Savannah, Mesquite, Sunnyvale, Fullerton, McAllen, Cary, Cedar Rapids, Sterling Heights, Columbia, Coral Springs, Carrollton, Elizabeth, Hartford, Waco, Bellevue, New Haven, West Valley City, Topeka, Thousand Oaks, El Monte, McKinney, Concord, Visalia, Simi Valley, Olathe, Clarksville, Denton, Stamford, Provo, Springfield, Killeen, Abilene, Evansville, Gainesville, Vallejo, Ann Arbor, and Peoria.

Add every resident from Lansing, Lafayette, Thornton, Athens, Flint, Inglewood, Roseville, Charleston, Beaumont, Independence, Victorville, Santa Clara, Costa Mesa, Miami Gardens, Manchester, Miramar, Downey, Arvada, Allentown, Westminster, Waterbury, Norman, Midland, Elgin, West Covina, Clearwater, Cambridge, and Pueblo.

Add every resident from West Jordan, Round Rock, Billings, Erie, South Bend, San Buenaventura, Fairfield, Lowell, Norwalk, Burbank, Richmond, Pompano Beach, High Point, Murfreesboro, Lewisville, Richardson, Daly City, Berkeley, Gresham, Wichita Falls, Green Bay, Davenport, my own Palm Bay, Columbia, Portsmouth, Rochester, Antioch, and Wilmington.

I was one of those people for years. If I got sick my choice was to tough it out or go to the doctor, then deal with demands for out of pocket payments of $200 or $300. My wife had to get some heart tests done one day when we didn’t have insurance; that morning of testing put us more than $2,000 in debt. THAT’S the world the Republican Congress wants to take us back to, and as far as I’m concerned they can go fuck themselves.

Fucking metal!

A series of coincidences has me listening to a lot of metal lately. Full disclosure: I was a HUGE metalhead in high school. We had a big lawn to cut, so every summer as I was mowing I’d break out the trusty Sony Walkman for Metallica’s Master of Puppets, Ozzy Osbourne’s Shout At the Devil, W.A.S.P.’s The Last Command, Iron Maiden’s Live After Death, etc. After starting college, I think I revolted against a lot of elements of my life in high school, and heavy metal was foremost among them. My love for acts like Peter Gabriel and R.E.M. grew and I came to be embarrassed by metal’s theatricality, its aimless revolt, its unabashed corniness. The last few years have seen me more at ease with myself and I can once again admit that there’s a place in my musical life for Viking imagery, frantic double bass drum drives, and the Gibson Flying V.

Goatwhore

Part of that is driven by the most excellent Map of Metal website–it’s just one of the best-done musical genre sites out there. There was also a radio drive-time coincidence; the time I happened to be having lunch on Sundays was coinciding with a college radio metal show. And a friend of mine who’s not terribly computer savvy doesn’t really explore the world of music available online, so I wanted to clue him in to some of the great metal that’s been recorded in the past 20 years. I’m enjoying the dark, heavy sounds of Southern American bands like Baroness, Kylesa, and Goatwhore; the sludgy gloom of England’s Electric Wizard and Japan’s Boris; the intricate math rock of Don Caballero and Chavez. There’s an ambition and drive for excellence in those acts that you can’t always get from self-effacing indie wunderkind, and that makes for a damn nice change of pace.

It’s a Christmas miracle!

An unexpected meeting with an old friend has led to joy at the Wendigo household. Happiness reigns, Rankin-Bass Christmas specials were enjoyed, hot dogs were consumed. In a completely unrelated topic, here’s a clip from the Asylum Street Spankers’ concert DVD.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3tqwNcfOhA

First person shooters have lied to me

Apparently, real-life soldiers do not bunny hop around the battlefield. They don’t stop and stand still in the middle of an open field due to lag. Nor do they call their teammates “n00b” and “gaywad.” Most of all, they apparently do not run straight at an unknown enemy, firing from the hip as they go. When unexpected gunfire hits, they apparently hug the ground, try to figure out where the shots are coming from, and attempt to bring heavier weapons to bear while spending a bare minimum of time anywhere other than “heavy cover.”

Garfunkel and Oates

In case any of my peeps haven’t heard of these gals, they are a barrel of foul-mouthed acoustic monkeys. Named after two of rock’s great also-rans, Kate Micucci and Riki Lindhome write and perform funny songs. Wait, don’t run away. They really are funny, unlike 90% of novelty song acts. Micucci has also done some comic acting on shows like Scrubs and Raising Hope.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXPcBI4CJc8

“Sex With Ducks” is probably their best video–one of the only actual videos they’ve done. They’re not particularly rich and are semi-famous on a good day, so many of their clips are just homemade clips of them performing together in a living room. Other songs to check out are “Fuck You,” “My Gay Boyfriend,” and “This Party Just Took a Turn For the Douche.”

One thing about the cold

It focuses you. Fast. No matter how groggy, how distracted, how indolent you were feeling, 12-degree air and a biting wind snaps you with an immediate awareness of your own body. I say this with no intention of snideness–my Southern brethren and sistern do not know what this feels like. It’s just after sunrise at 8 in the morning, you’re hoping at least one of the car doors isn’t frozen shut so you can get the others open, you’re praying the extra $30 you spent on the high-amp car battery was worth it, you grab the scraper to get the ice off the windshield, but it’s the stubborn hard frost that doesn’t want to slide off so it just gets scored by the plastic scraper and takes three times as long, your legs go numb even beneath the thick work pants and long johns, after five minutes the car heater still won’t actually come on and do any good, and you fervently wish to not need your ungloved hand for even a second. There’s a certain triumph to all this, though. Even with modern technology there’s a sense of accomplishment, organization, survival. You’ve got your charged cell phone, blanket and water in the car, the $400 set of snow tires, white knuckles on the wheel, your eyes are darting ahead on the road for anyone who’s slid off (not that they’ll necessarily need help, but it warns you about the slippery patches), you’re squinting a little through the slice of windshield that doesn’t keep wanting to frost over, and you know that with a full, warm belly and your best reflexes, you will BEAT WINTER for one more day.

Dreaming of another time

1950s Station Wagon

I'm the goddamn pater familias

There’s an antique car show this weekend. Sitting at lunch I see one drive by . . . not a vintage hot rod or muscle car, but a station wagon from the Fifties. It’s stately, brown, and suburban, and suddenly I want to be in one. I want to be packing the family in the car and driving down a U.S. highway with a pipe clenched in my teeth and a cheap fedora perched on my head. I want to get my picture taken next to a giant ball of twine, see the alligators at a roadside zoo, and be confounded by the Mystery Spot. I want to eat a $2 chicken dinner before stopping in a hotel named after a made-up Indian tribe. I want to fill the old girl up again (at 30 cents a gallon) and just keep driving, driving, driving down a highway of possibilities into a bright Eisenhower future.

My mind. It is blown.

And people say fanfic isn’t original.

“Ragnarok”

by Jena Kateryn Moran

Three years of winter assault the world. Giant monsters devour the sun and moon. The tree of the world trembles. Fenrir, the greatest of wolves, snaps a chain made from the sound of a cat’s footfall, a woman’s beard, a mountain’s root, and a bear’s sinews. Meanwhile, at the Hall of Justice, the Ragnarok bell rings!

A silence falls.

“Something in my spirit recognizes that sound, and trembles with foreboding.” The Boy Wonder stands. “What words have my mentor left for me, to read when such grave tidings come?”

The Bat-Computer rattles and its lights flash. It prints out the Bat-Ragnarok Contingency Plan. The Boy Wonder reads through it, and his face goes chill. “What must be, must be; and what is prophecied to come, shall come. Guard the world; I take my leave; anon.”

Aquaman and the Wonder Twins look after the departing Boy Wonder with heavy hearts. “The world comes to an end,” says Atlantis’ King. “Not late, but soon; and what part shall I play in the end of it?”

Zan looks down. “Have you no greater art? Then make the best of it; your fish telepathy is the weapon in our hands.”

Aquaman goes to the console and brings up images of world events. “Greater art?” He laughs. “I can imagine none. There are things in the deep you know not of, that answer to my call; and powers I may wield through them that none have seen before.”

“Gleek!” exclaims the monkey. Continue reading