I was originally going to post this as my interests in my profile but that's limited to 1000 words. That's just not right... how can one limit their interests!? In any case, not like anyone cares, but here's my tale.

So there I was, heading towards the local drinking establishment to have a pint with some co-workers. A few were already there and awaiting my arrival, and some were on their way. It was just myself and my good friend John. We were walking along chatting about what fun the weekend would be when a big, white, stretch limo drove past us. The wealthy young man who rented the car for the evening stuck his head out the back window and cried out "Get a room you faggots!" My first thought was to question what exactly he thought we'd need a room for. My second was to wonder why he was thinking of myself and my friend doing such things. John looked at me. I looked at him. John said "Hold me." and smiled that sweet, caring smile of his. I said "Nah, we should probably get a room first." We walked several more paces, and I'm fairly certain John was in the process of commenting on the interesting things people will say when they're travelling past you at 60km/h when a big black pick up truck drove past us. The type of pick up one's parents purchase for them so they feel their child will be safe when they're in a collision caused by them speaking on their cell phone, or being too engrossed in the sexual orientation of two guys walking down the street. In any case, the passenger in this big black pick up decided that it was necessary to impress the driver of said vehicle in order to stay in their good graces and obtain future rides in this 'honey-mobile'. He bravely at 60km/h stuck his head out the window and yelled "Faggots!" I wondered at the lack of creativity in the world, then looked at John. He still had a puzzled look on his face, likely wondering the same thing. We decided it best bet was to check our backs for giant signs, concluded there were none, and carried on our way to get that pint and regale our associates with our amusing tale. And just for the record, no, we didn't get a room.

People are stupid.
(In case no one else could come to that conclusion)
I think I would have made out with John, if I were you. Or thrown a very large rock. Large rocks make big trucks and limos Maaaaaad

You're comment about the rocks immediately brought this to mind. It's from a blog called [GM] Dave and it's something I kept up with after my brief stint on FFXI. It's about FFXI but it could easily apply to any MMO I've ever played - it's usually all about how stupid people can get on those types of games. This one though is a little different, but you'll see why your rocks comment reminded me of it:

"Today was my day off.

Did I get to spend the day partying? Crafting? Questing?

No.

I had to go to the damned DMV.

For those of you who play 23 hours a day, those rectangular things in the walls around you are doors.

They lead to the outside world. A world full of fresh air and natural sunlight.

Just saying it makes me ill.

But, alas, I was forced into the "real" world and actually had to interact with other human beings.

This is never a good thing.

So, I head out and immediately, I'm assaulted by a flying newspaper.

This is strange as I do not actually subscribe to a newspaper. I mean who in the hell still reads hardcopy?

I decided to correct the paperboy by waving my hand and talking to him.

Except replace "waving my hand" with "throwing a rock".

And replace "talking to him" with "knocking him unconscious".

Dave 1, World 0.

I will admit, he looked confused as he awoke to a strange man screaming "STONE III, PUNK!"

A second rock took care of that."
-[GM] Dave

FYI, if you're interested in reading more click on his name - I linked it to the website.

That so sounds like something I would actually do. Last Click, you officially made people look at me funny due to trying not to laugh so hard while at work. Bravo

lol, some peoples need to impress is.. well impressive. Maybe the "guy" in the truck knew the "guy" in the limo...
or maybe they were both just general twats. Either way the only sensible option was to prove them right, partly. The world is your room!

Ha ha... I could see myself doing that too...
I haven't read hardcopy in years, mostly because I'm too lazy to read the paper in general.
But I like telling people it's because I'm an environmental advocate. Yelling "Save the Trees" makes me sound like less of a b*tch instead of "I don't care".

With experiences like this lying around, why do people still ask me why I prefer the inside to the outside?

Today I could write many a sordid tale, but I wont. You will all find them non humourous.

Anyway, I thought the first one was pretty gay. In a homosexual way. I would have yelled out something along the lines of 'Want a piece of this' or something.

Second - my paperboy drives a car. Hard to get him.

Mael

Outside. Ah...a place where the highest tiers of armor and weapons mean nothing, and all the gold you posess and all the spells and skills you trained don't matter. Nobody cares if you're a master alchemist/herbalist...well, maybe an herbalist, but that's the wrong kind of attention.

I try to avoid the real world at all costs, but occasionally i have to venture outside to do things essential to life..like....uh...you know, i think that's my oven timer telling me the raid is starting... *runs away*

Outside my door is a wonderful place full of...

I lie. The outside world sucks. Its 12:37am. I start work at 3 am. If this isnt a tale of woe, then what is?

You know... I've got a fun stone projectile story myself...

Me and a couple friends got together to hang out at a little bar that we frequent. We know the owner/bartender pretty well, and we all just wanted a cozy place to make asses of ourselves in, this night.

We all make our separate ways to the bar, and what do we discover? The place is closed and there are several dozen... yes DOZEN... police cars in the parking lot.

My first thought was, "Shit, RUN!" But, being the consummate actor that I am, I calmed my friends (who all had similar first reactions) and went to address myself to the officers of the law.

Fortunately, it turned out that none of us, nor our bartender friend, were in trouble. The police were using the parking lot as a staging area to drag out some militant, crazy asshole (I told you, not me) from the building next door. Apparently, the jerk had barricaded himself in several weeks previously, and he then proceded to send out threatening letters to several political types. The specific nature of these letters was not made clear to we onlookers, but we gathered that they involved threats of violence and terror.

The gist of all this was that the bar had been commandeered, bartender compensated for the use of his property, and we should all mind our own f^<ing business and get out.

Fair enough. We pulled our cars into the parking lot right next door and proceded to drink, smoke, play loud music, dance, and generally act like teenagers in plain sight of the disapproving and self-important police creeps.

One o'clock rolls around, and suddenly, it's go time. The cops are girded for battle, and they all charge bravely into the building where the aforementioned scum has established his lair. Quick as a cat, I led my friends around back of the bar where I revealed a secret that had been disclosed to me in strictest confidence: a ladder to the roof of the bar. From here, we had a perfect view of the building next door. We could see flashlights flickering inside and hear all manner of shouting and commotion. Apparently, the fellow had littered the building with randomly placed furniture and things designed to trip the unwary. It was rather amusing to here cries of "Goddammit!" and "Motherf^<er!" emerge sporadically from the miserable police officers.

Eventually, they manage to reach the guy and pull him out of the building. Turns out he's a BIG guy, and rather scary looking. They get him about half-way to the police cars, when he performs a sort-of shrugging maneuver that leaves the two cops holding him on their asses. He takes off through the bar's parking lot, directly beneath us.

Now, we'd been almost completely silent since we snuck up on to the roof. But seeing the guy about to escape, we felt we had to do something. My friend Marc, a skinny little gay hispanic man, came up with the idea the quickest. He grabbed some of the loose pieces of roofing and concrete up from where we were standing and started chunking them like crazy at the jerk. We all followed suit. Eventually, I'm proud to say, it was my date for the evening, a girl named Monica, who nailed him right on the top of his skull, just as he moved directly below out vantage point. He went down like a sack of bricks.

When the cops finally grabbed and bagged the guy, we came down off of the roof. Of course, we were greeted with the obligatory "You shouldn't have been up there" speech, but the cop who delivered it was smiling as he said it. The law rode off into the moonset, their prisoner safely in the back seat. For ourselves, we called it a night.

Even though the bar was closed and things didn't go as planned, we all still had a wonderful night.

All my stone projectile storys invovle me waking up in a hospital room (how I managed to get myself I'll never know), so I'll merely say that if you read the second post in this topic before reading the first it makes it even more hillarious.

I've only ever been the victim of one style of projectile weaponry.

Unopened alcohol containers.

To date I have had can, bottles and those weird wine cartons chucked at me for various reasons.

And, for God only knows what reason, they have never been open, resulting in a small explosion of alcohol at my feet.

Must be an Australian thing.

Since when does wine come in cartons? Australia is weird.
Don't worry about the small 'splosions of alcohol. They happen pretty often in the states if you're in the right region.

Next time it happens, catch the booze so you don't have any problems in the long run. I mean, what kind of MONSTER throws alcohol around and doesn't drink it? Idiots I tell you... Where was I going with this?

It causes a lot of weird situations at school and home. People get convinced that I've been drinking, because I come back stinking of booze.

And yes, wine comes in cartons. Like, boxy ones with a tap on it. Like a miniature, rectangular, upper-class keg.

i agree, since when does wine come in cartons? Always came in big glass bottles with massive indents in the bottom that make you feel ripped off.

On second thought, I like these cartons you speak of.

I'm a little shocked that you haven't heard of them.

They usually have red-wine in them...I dunno, that's the best description I can think of?

Do you have those cartons of orange juice or something? Same description, but imagine wine inside. Cheap, mass-produced wine.

We have them here too, made by sutter home

I am oblivious

It's tacky, white-trash wine boxes with spigots on them.

Used frequently down here in the south by rednecks trying to act "classy."

umm theyre called wine coolers.
mainly underage kids and seniors buy them.

my two cents..lolz

Oh... see, I try to look classy by keeping some Martinelli's in a brown paper bag. Then I just look like a wino.

The lead singer from Murder by death chugged out of this massive wine bottle between each of his songs.... apparently each one was a drinking song. It was harlarious.

Then I had a wine cooler hurled at me.

I remember once when i was a trolley collector some idiots left a wine bottle which I thought was empty in the trolley. There was also a killogram of maggoty mince and some rotten rockmelon but thats a different story.

Anyway I picked up this wine bottle by the bottom. Big mistake. Got it all over my work shirt XD Good times, Good times.

And yeah, we have wine in casks down here. I didnt know you wouldnt up there. Southworlders forevar! BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

(sorry, it happens sometimes.)

Nothing sucks more than smelling like wine.

Probably my scariest moment in gaming was a few years previous, when I was a player in a Call Of Cthulhu RPG without actually knowing what Call Of Cthulhu was. None of the players did, truth be told. I learnt later that the scenario we had played was essentially H.P. Lovecrafts 'Rats In The Walls'. Considering I hadn't expected a horror RPG, and we were only told that it would be a 1920s 'Real-World' setting, I certainly didn't expect the horror I was to witness.

There were no combat sequences, and really only minimal roleplaying. But I did not sleep that night, nor for the next few nights after it.

Probably the highlight of the evening came when we where exploring the ancestral estate that was the setting, delving deep into tunnels that did not exist on the building plan and the GM describing the slow, dragging sounds of claws and fur on stone as we descended deeper.

I actually heard these noises. I thought I was going mad. After the game was over (some 2 months later), I was told he had a CD player and was playing various sounds on as low a volume as possible, hidden underneath the table.

I've been hooked on Lovecraft ever since.

You may have had one of the most awesome GMs ever...

Or most sadistic, close call.

Where I come from its the same thing XD

My thoughts, exactly.

That would have to be interesting. Part of me would think it was really awesome to get the ambiece right.

Ambience is one of the most important but most often overlooked tasks of a good GM.

Whenever I ran a fantasy setting, I always lit a fire nearby, turned down all the electric lights, and got some good, instrumental celtic music going.

It was awesome. I had one GM actually pull together some really sweet battle sound effects for a piece where our characters got pulled into the middle of a war.

He even used a DJ program to edit certain sounds and make it seem like there were dragons roaring overhead. And he had it all pumping through his immense 5.1 surround sound system. We were floored, it was so fricking cool.

God, gone are the days of A-Class DMing, killed by Video.

I'm not much of a gamer. I've played one game of DnD, after drinking 10-20 litres of pepsi. Good times. But I always enjoyed being a DM... mainly for the cruelty.

"You read the magical incantation aloud... and it summons a dragon to attack you! Natch!"

After this I passed out and slept for two and half hours, upside down on an armchair, barely covered by a blanket.

Best nights sleep I ever had.