Quote:
Originally Posted by CaptainCrunch
I have fond memories of playing DND in college, and never got back into it again.
Of course it was drunken DND. But I remember the adventures of my drunken, evil chaotic Dwarf Warrior who was constantly trying to betray his other party members to get the best loot. The best weapon that I ever found was an overpowered living evil rope that we'd just throw into a room like a grenade, or I would tuck it into a companions sleeping bag and sit back and laugh as it slowly strangled them until they gave me loot.
I also remember one night hating a call by the DM, and challenging him to a fight, which is equivalent to fighting a god. And that was the end of my DND adventure.
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How did the other party members not put a lighting bolt in your head first?