So my regular RPG group has a few people who can be a little bit gamebreaking at times, but it’s mostly benign stuff like “I can hold my breath for 6 years” or “I have taken Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Human Corpse” or even “My max carrying capacity allows me to pick up the Eiffel Tower.”
Then there’s Aaron.
Aaron doesn’t really understand all the rules of the games we play, but he’s usually good for a laugh with his ridiculous characters, so when we started a Mythic Pathfinder Campaign, our GM let him play an Undead Gunslinger/Barbarian with clown paint and a viper living in his empty chest cavity.
So we open the session with Aaron’s Undead Clown leading a mismatched posse of characters who’s races/classes aren’t relevant to this story up to the gates of Bartertown. The gates are locked.
The guards demand to know our business and our identification, blah blah blah. Aaron gets a mischievous look in his eye that I recognise as “It’s screwing around time.”
The clown declares that he is Popo the Clown, returning to work at the local circus after a long journey away from Bartertown.The guards seem convinced, and just go to confirm this with some circus types. At this point, my Lizardfolk Swordsage drops back into charging distance and awaits us being rumbled.
It turns out that their circus does have a Popo the Clown. But he’s already at work, and isn’t an undead. Aaron adopts an attitude of indignation, demanding that this imposter Popo face justice and be brought outside. A critical success on bluff, while the guards fail horrifically. Popo the clown is brought to the gates, and before he can begin to defend himself, a quickdraw coat pistol drops Popo dead in the mud, with a cry of “How dare you, imposter! Shame on you!” before forcing the curious viper living in his chest cavity back between his ribs with a “No, Steve, not now.”
Flabbergasted, the guards call their captain, who casts a Zone of Truth spell on our “Popo”, failing to realise that undead are immune to mind affecting compulsions such as Zone of Truth.
The captain and his men don’t bother to sense motive on him, despite his bluff rolls barely passing the 15 mark thanks to their own stupidity, and we are allowed into the city, and “Popo the Clown” is given an official apology letter from the guards and the circus, while he and his “bodyguards” are given free reign over the marketplace, and our GM holds his head in his hands in despair.
This was the first ten minutes of the first session.
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