I cast Jack's total lack of surprise!
I'm so pathetic, you guys. A year's time seems to be exactly long enough for me to forget what I'm like every single steenking summer around here. I forget that I'm going to get insomnia (or maybe I just go back to utterly disbelieving that I - *IIIIII!* - could ever have the slightest difficulty doing what Tiggers do best - falling asleep). I forget what it feels like to walk to school in the heat and humidity and arrive feeling sapped of strength and partially collapsed into an unattractive boneless puddle. I forget to take seriously the twin hazards of polyester and layering. And I forget how clingy and lonely and desperate I become, once enforced social interaction is no longer a regular part of my day.
I'm an odd duck when it comes to companionship. I'm not what you'd call good at making friends. I have my moments, but on the whole I'm an awkward conversationalist. (And awkwardness is only compounded several-fold when the companions of your youth are mostly philosophers - and male philosophers, at that - because they will needle you and needle you and pick apart everything you say, until you are ready to box their ears. But when you finally do snap, it will go down as a breach of decorum on your part). So yeah: I am often quite lacking in the social skills department, and I need a lot of time to myself, especially if I hope to accomplish anything legitimately productive.
Meanwhile, though, I am this shameless hoverer, dawdling in the graduate lounge after school because I don't really want to go home, where I'll be alone but for the ever-present specter of my work. And when the graduate lounge empties out for the summer, I lose that too.
And go ever so slightly CRAZY. I'm not always consciously aware of my loneliness, since I am busy and important and have Many Things To Do, but as soon as there is anybody around, I become crazed and hyperactive and loud and can't seem to filter what I say! And when it comes time to go, I make stupid, helpless ploys for attention! If I am in somebody's house, I try to help them do the dishes or something, so I don't have to go home yet. I mind the actual boredom and loneliness less, I think, than the loss of my already minimal social-panache.
Probably why I come home after role playing and type about it at length: I just don't have anybody to talk to. (And probably why I am so unaccountably obsessed with role playing, in the first place. It's a weekly opportunity to say to six or seven people at a time, 'HA HA YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO HANG OUT WITH ME!' Which is deeply appreciated no matter how they may sometimes get on my nerves).
We had a great week this time around - and since we met an hour longer than usual, there was a delicious meal in addition to the usual assorted snacks. (Thanks, Angela, for the super-simple and amaaaazing lasagna recipe; a double batch was the perfect convenience meal for such a large group!) Were it not for the fact that I might always have to make it, I'd be thrilled to have dinner together every time we meet; fictional combat is strangely hungry-making.
There is little need for a major recap this time around, so I won't bother with a cut. It will more than suffice to say that we fought another series of battles all in one day, so I thoroughly depleted my allotment of spells and had to get creative, once again. You'd think I would learn to be more conservative, but, then again, I was more conservative, and I still ran out. I wonder whether this problem will only worsen as we level up? Or if it will cease to be an issue? Better spells affect more opponents per casting, which = fewer castings for more effect, but more and tougher opponents may quite possibly mean more failed spells - which eat up spell slots every bit as well as successful spells do.
I was really excited to get some loot this time. (I waaaant more spells and scrolls!) But we're still far behind the rules-projected earnings of newly-minted second level characters. I am guessing the GM is not adjusting at all for the large number of players in the party, so we are dividing the loot and coming up short. I don't mind *that* much. I'd rather have my friends than a lot of fictional money. But it's also true that I was counting on having assets with which to buy scrolls that increase my versatility, so that I can better serve the team. I only know two first level spells right now. TWO! I just leveled up for the very first time, and all my friends got access to new spells at second level, but I didn't. Tough level for Sorcerers; it is the nature of my class. My situation will improve significantly within a level or two (and I totally made this bed and *will* sleep in it), but it is a fact: my usefulness increases with every spell that I can afford to buy, and right now I can't afford to buy much of anything.
Complicating matters, the other group members have persuaded me to take a captured 'masterwork club' as a melee weapon. ('Masterwork club.' Does that strike anyone as an oxymoron?) A 'masterwork club' is an exceptionally well-made club (worth 300 gold more than a regular club), which gives bonuses on melee attacks. Now, I'm not very strong and not much good in a melee. I wasn't planning for my character to attempt melee attacks, and I bought a cheap but serviceable mace with my (very) small quantity of starting gold, mainly so I'd have some way of defending myself in an emergency. I'm a big believer in flanking the enemy for bonuses, but it is also the case that I lack the hit points and armor of many of the other players, so getting close enough to my enemies to hit them with a club - even a Very Very Very Fine Club - may not be the smartest plan. On the other hand, a Very Very Very Fine Club never runs out of spells, so it's something to fall back on (or use instead), when spells are running short.
300 gold could buy twelve first level scrolls at full market value; twenty-four first level scrolls if the wizard in the group knew the spells I wanted and could write them out for me. These twelve scrolls would be expended in a single use, whereas the club could (theoretically) be used many more than twelve or even twenty-four times, and keep right on clubbin'. But I rather hope that within two dozen spellcastings I'll be an advanced enough character that I'll have no need for melee contact whatsoever...
And I wonder why the group encouraged me, specifically, to take it? Maybe none of the fighter-types wants to a wield a club. (It's grunty and half-orcish, I suppose). But a masterwork weapon is a relatively big deal. Couldn't one of them trade it in for a masterwork version of a weapon he actually wanted?
But I digress. Many battles, much looting. The Paladin behaved himself much better tonight, though he still does rather like announcing how magnificent he is. He keeps bragging about his unimaginable (fictional, made-up, pretend) charisma, when he's one of several members of the group with the exact same feature. And he seems to think that the inexorable increase of his charisma score in particular should be a huge priority for the rest of the party, because his charisma is going to be soooo untouchable, only wait and see!. (Nice of him to give us all something to look forward to...) Only it's the nature of his class to require that his points be spread across multiple ability scores, such that his charisma is lower than - and will likely remain lower than - for example, mine. I don't care if my charisma score remains higher than his. (Well, no part of me but the vindictive part cares). But he's not exactly our only hope. There is, as it were, another Skywalker. Or three...
The only really troubling incident tonight was as much my fault as anyone's. Pretty much all my fault. I think it is the embarrassment of the memory, in fact, that is keeping me awake and typing.
I just... I don't know why I just snap sometimes and get all argumentative. I'd swear I didn't used to be like this, at least not with my friends and peers. (My sisters and I totally bicker and fuss all the time). It doesn't help when you get blindsided and would like to make a cautious, polite, rational case for your point of view, but you are holding up six other people, so you end up spitting out rapid-fire objections like a distempered cat. I am willing to apologize, but I'd prefer not to have embarrassed myself in the first place. Is that an option?
You'll recall that I have two - TWO - first level spells to my name. That means when we get into a fight and there are bad guys everywhere, doing to my friends whatever it is that their kind of bad guys does, I have two - TWO - options as to what to do to stop them. Well, not counting the acid I can shoot out of my hands for moderately effective damage, and the possibility of dealing blows with my VERY VERY VERY FINE CLUB. And not counting one of the two - TWO - spells, 'Mage Armor,' which I can only use to help my friends and make them harder to hit. (Not a bad thing to have around, mind you, but I probably shouldn't have taken it at first level. I should have taken something else offensive and left it to faith that the more vulnerable members of the group could stay out of harm's way and not take damage for a few levels).
And what one offensive spell did I pick to learn at first level? As I've mentioned before, it's called 'Grease.' I chose it because it's a spell with multiple applications, some of which reportedly remain good to much higher levels. Right now, I can cast Grease on squares within the area of combat. If someone is already standing on the square I grease, he has to roll a reflex save or fall down. If someone enters a square I've greased, he has to make a reflex save or fall down. And if someone wants to walk across a greased square, he's significantly slowed by the challenge of keeping his balance. Since my friends get bonuses to their attacks whenever an enemy falls prone (uh, pretty much a bonus for 'kicking 'em when they're down...), Grease has its overt uses now, while our opponents are still low-level enough to fail their saves and fall. But they'll get better. The *whole reason* I chose this spell as a high priority at first level - well, other than the fact that it's unexpected and suitably weird - is that it can be used in other ways. You also have the option of greasing an opponent's weapon - or anything, really, that you want him to drop. If you succeed against his reflex save, he drops the item and he has to make another save every time he tries to pick it up again. Not so great if he has good reflexes, but could be handy! Even better: if one of your friends is pinned or locked in a grapple, you can cast Grease on your friend's clothes or armor, and it becomes much harder to keep a grip on that friend.
Of course, the latter two options are only worthwhile if you are permitted to cast Grease on specific items at the same range specified in the spell description. Oh, there *is* a range. And there *are* examples of spells with more than one version, where the rules are different depending on the version you choose. But Grease doesn't have more than one set of rules. It gives one range - a distance of 25ft. - and then lists the ways you can use it. Tonight, my GM abruptly decided that I can never cast Grease on a particular item unless I am touching the item. That means absolutely no dropping of swords. (Whaaat? I *touch* your sword and then *wait to see* if you fumble it? Whaaaaaat?) And that effectively means no helping teammates escape from grapples, since I'd have to know ahead of time that they *will* be grappled and grease the little piggies in advance.
The GM says 'There have to be limits,' and I'm all, 'Yeah, there are. Which is to say: Reflex saves.' If the opponent's reflexes are good enough, they don't suffer from the spell's effects. I waste a turn *and* a spell slot, and the guy doesn't even drop his sword. Our opponents succeeded on their reflex saves several times just tonight, the nimble little buggers. (A smart sorceress with more spells available would switch to a different spell that targets a weaker save. But you will recall that I only know two - TWO - spells).
But I'll freely admit it: I'm mad. I'm kind of mad now, and I was really mad then. (Me, more or less a grown-up, mad about the rules of a stupid game!) I've already noticed a general trend that the GM considers 'what the rules allow' and 'how I picture X being used' to be more or less identical concepts. If you come up with something he doesn't expect, he tends to think: THIS CAN'T BE RIGHT. PLEASE TO BE MOAR CONVENTIONAL.
Meanwhile, I feel like my character not only benefits from but *requires* creativity. Have I mentioned I am going to have *so few* spells available, dudes? I go into every fight reminding myself to think of absolutely every possible application of my three or four options. It is NOT exciting to feel that you have to inform the GM of all your ideas ahead of time, in order to get permission to use a tactic exactly the way it is described in the book! (And, no, the rules don't specifically say 'the range for options B and C is exactly the same as for option A,' but wouldn't they specify any exceptions? Do the rules have to specify that X stays the same in a box, with a fox, on a train, in the rain?)
I was so surprised when the GM wiped out 50% of my future plans for this spell that I *totally* made a fuss. A spluttering, strident, utterly obnoxious fuss. The first thirty seconds or so of which were just Whuh? and What? and But! and IT'S IN THE RULES!!! And then the GM said that he'd more or less see me in detention, because we weren't going to have it out at the table. Which was fine, until a couple of turns later when I had run out of all other options, and our group was getting totally thrashed by this one last Goblin guy (who was already standing on a greased square without falling over, and you can't re-grease that which is already greased - not to any new effect, anyway), and I had no not much choice but to say, 'This is the point at which I'd be desperate enough to try to make him drop his weapon, only you took that option away from me.' And the GM said I could have it for now but he'd deal with me later. And the Goblin's reflexes were so good (as I rather expected) that my ploy had no effect, anyway. I pointed this out. (Sadly, in a spluttering, strident, obnoxious way - or at least that is how my paranoia remembers it). As you say, GM: limits! And here we are, only at first level. The villains are only going to get better from here on out...
Ugh, it was such a fun evening otherwise and we almost entirely behaved ourselves. Why do I have to feel so hung up on handling one confrontation badly? SOCIAL ANXIETYYYYY! (I'm not the only one who argues with the GM, for the record, though I'm one of the only players so far who knows her options well enough to know when she's getting shafted. Plus, a lot of the others have more in common with the GM's tastes. He likes direct damage-dealing. He understands direct damage-dealing. He's always talking as if a sorceress should be little more than a blunt object - rather like a VERY VERY VERY FINE CLUB, see? - just hammering opponents with fireball after magic fireball. I mean, what is spontaneous spell-casting for, if not to do the exact same predictable thing over and over again?)
To end this topic on a more positive note, THE MOST FUN PARTS:
1) We got to talking about the old D&D names that used to attach to many of the spells still in use by Pathfinder. The spells themselves were legally available for Pathfinder to adapt under a complex, wibbly-wobbly, legally-weagley Open Gaming License. But some of the spells had proper names: Bigby's Interposing Hand or Mordencainen's Such and Such. (Beats me how to spell Mordencainen). The spells are still there, but the names are no longer. The wise half-elven cleric and I invented a series of Fight Club themed spells. I SO want to cast 'Jack's Broken Heart' or... what was it? 'Jack's Exaggerated Sense of Rejection'?
2) Our new Rogue, Alastair MacIntyre, is a much better, infinitely more devious rogue than I ever was. We were ready to quit for the day after a couple of biggish fights, but we all ran outside again when we heard a little girl in the spooky dark streets screaming. We had to save her from a Largish Thing, even though we spellcasters were already pretty tapped out. Our rogue, meanwhile, honestly couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to help us or stay indoors and take a nap. At the beginning of his every turn, he would announce matter-of-factly, 'I am trying to decide whether to [execute X helpful maneuver - usually a very good strategy] or go lie down.' This would have been seriously obnoxious coming from anybody else, but this particular guy is a kindly, thoughtful straight-arrow of a gentleman in real life, and his delivery is just so droll. It cracks me up, again and again. His cold-hearted rogue character also swears a lot, but on the whole he doesn't bother to specify any actual contemporary curse words. He just narrates, 'Alastair MacIntyre's shot goes wide; he swears a lot!' Maybe it was all the sugar and lasagna talking, but I kept thinking of irresistibly naughty swears associated with the rogue's fictional deity - who happens to be the goddess of lust. 'By Calistria's pendulous bosoms!' 'Calistria's left teat!' Noooooot appropriate, exactly, but soooooo much fun to say things that disturb the boys, when they make more and more penis comments the more they forget that I'm there. Also: Calistria sounds like an STD.
In other news, I HAD A DOCTOR WHO DREAM! I dreamt that Amy and Eleven and Rory and I were running through the back passages of an enormous Opera House. I never got to see the opulent interior; we were confined to the complicated network of storage rooms and hallways and chambers on several floors backstage. The Opera House was flooding rapidly. We had to keep finding our way to higher and higher ground. Rory got distracted and didn't make it through a door in time, poor dear. The Doctor was forever wandering off, too. But the strangest thing about the dream was my persistent impression that a) I had run through these labyrinthine passageways many times before, so I only had to keep track of the Doctor and try to remember the way, and b) my failure to get The Doctor *and* Amy *and* Rory to safety would cause the flood to reset. I would have to relive the day over and over again until I made sure that all three got out alive. Thus, I was SO VERY SAD about Rory, but I also knew he'd be alive again when the day rebooted, which kept me grim and focused, trying to work out how to beat the Opera House maze.
In other other news, CHEER UP, PRESIDENTRIX, YOU ARE PROBABLY GETTING YOUR CHEAP ON-SALE ORANGE SHOES FROM ENGLAND TOMORROW, you undeserving hussy! I was looking at shiny dice in Waco's prime RPG shop (a disappointing, drab little store - though the clerk was very personable) the other day, and the guy at the counter said, 'Dice for gamers are like shoes for women!' And I wanted to be all, 'Objection, Your Honor, on the grounds of chauvenism!!!' Only I am probably not the best woman to argue that particular case.
And, in concluding other news: one of the only advantages to living a couple of time zones away from my Mailman is I can call her up and order her to watch anything that I watched and liked on the tv. And where she lives, it won't have happened yet! The other day, I ordered her to watch all the way to the end of Craig Ferguson. On account of there was a cute puppet bunny at the end of the show.
She watched it. We talked about it later. It made me think of this:
It made her think of this:
.
I'm an odd duck when it comes to companionship. I'm not what you'd call good at making friends. I have my moments, but on the whole I'm an awkward conversationalist. (And awkwardness is only compounded several-fold when the companions of your youth are mostly philosophers - and male philosophers, at that - because they will needle you and needle you and pick apart everything you say, until you are ready to box their ears. But when you finally do snap, it will go down as a breach of decorum on your part). So yeah: I am often quite lacking in the social skills department, and I need a lot of time to myself, especially if I hope to accomplish anything legitimately productive.
Meanwhile, though, I am this shameless hoverer, dawdling in the graduate lounge after school because I don't really want to go home, where I'll be alone but for the ever-present specter of my work. And when the graduate lounge empties out for the summer, I lose that too.
And go ever so slightly CRAZY. I'm not always consciously aware of my loneliness, since I am busy and important and have Many Things To Do, but as soon as there is anybody around, I become crazed and hyperactive and loud and can't seem to filter what I say! And when it comes time to go, I make stupid, helpless ploys for attention! If I am in somebody's house, I try to help them do the dishes or something, so I don't have to go home yet. I mind the actual boredom and loneliness less, I think, than the loss of my already minimal social-panache.
Probably why I come home after role playing and type about it at length: I just don't have anybody to talk to. (And probably why I am so unaccountably obsessed with role playing, in the first place. It's a weekly opportunity to say to six or seven people at a time, 'HA HA YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO HANG OUT WITH ME!' Which is deeply appreciated no matter how they may sometimes get on my nerves).
We had a great week this time around - and since we met an hour longer than usual, there was a delicious meal in addition to the usual assorted snacks. (Thanks, Angela, for the super-simple and amaaaazing lasagna recipe; a double batch was the perfect convenience meal for such a large group!) Were it not for the fact that I might always have to make it, I'd be thrilled to have dinner together every time we meet; fictional combat is strangely hungry-making.
There is little need for a major recap this time around, so I won't bother with a cut. It will more than suffice to say that we fought another series of battles all in one day, so I thoroughly depleted my allotment of spells and had to get creative, once again. You'd think I would learn to be more conservative, but, then again, I was more conservative, and I still ran out. I wonder whether this problem will only worsen as we level up? Or if it will cease to be an issue? Better spells affect more opponents per casting, which = fewer castings for more effect, but more and tougher opponents may quite possibly mean more failed spells - which eat up spell slots every bit as well as successful spells do.
I was really excited to get some loot this time. (I waaaant more spells and scrolls!) But we're still far behind the rules-projected earnings of newly-minted second level characters. I am guessing the GM is not adjusting at all for the large number of players in the party, so we are dividing the loot and coming up short. I don't mind *that* much. I'd rather have my friends than a lot of fictional money. But it's also true that I was counting on having assets with which to buy scrolls that increase my versatility, so that I can better serve the team. I only know two first level spells right now. TWO! I just leveled up for the very first time, and all my friends got access to new spells at second level, but I didn't. Tough level for Sorcerers; it is the nature of my class. My situation will improve significantly within a level or two (and I totally made this bed and *will* sleep in it), but it is a fact: my usefulness increases with every spell that I can afford to buy, and right now I can't afford to buy much of anything.
Complicating matters, the other group members have persuaded me to take a captured 'masterwork club' as a melee weapon. ('Masterwork club.' Does that strike anyone as an oxymoron?) A 'masterwork club' is an exceptionally well-made club (worth 300 gold more than a regular club), which gives bonuses on melee attacks. Now, I'm not very strong and not much good in a melee. I wasn't planning for my character to attempt melee attacks, and I bought a cheap but serviceable mace with my (very) small quantity of starting gold, mainly so I'd have some way of defending myself in an emergency. I'm a big believer in flanking the enemy for bonuses, but it is also the case that I lack the hit points and armor of many of the other players, so getting close enough to my enemies to hit them with a club - even a Very Very Very Fine Club - may not be the smartest plan. On the other hand, a Very Very Very Fine Club never runs out of spells, so it's something to fall back on (or use instead), when spells are running short.
300 gold could buy twelve first level scrolls at full market value; twenty-four first level scrolls if the wizard in the group knew the spells I wanted and could write them out for me. These twelve scrolls would be expended in a single use, whereas the club could (theoretically) be used many more than twelve or even twenty-four times, and keep right on clubbin'. But I rather hope that within two dozen spellcastings I'll be an advanced enough character that I'll have no need for melee contact whatsoever...
And I wonder why the group encouraged me, specifically, to take it? Maybe none of the fighter-types wants to a wield a club. (It's grunty and half-orcish, I suppose). But a masterwork weapon is a relatively big deal. Couldn't one of them trade it in for a masterwork version of a weapon he actually wanted?
But I digress. Many battles, much looting. The Paladin behaved himself much better tonight, though he still does rather like announcing how magnificent he is. He keeps bragging about his unimaginable (fictional, made-up, pretend) charisma, when he's one of several members of the group with the exact same feature. And he seems to think that the inexorable increase of his charisma score in particular should be a huge priority for the rest of the party, because his charisma is going to be soooo untouchable, only wait and see!. (Nice of him to give us all something to look forward to...) Only it's the nature of his class to require that his points be spread across multiple ability scores, such that his charisma is lower than - and will likely remain lower than - for example, mine. I don't care if my charisma score remains higher than his. (Well, no part of me but the vindictive part cares). But he's not exactly our only hope. There is, as it were, another Skywalker. Or three...
The only really troubling incident tonight was as much my fault as anyone's. Pretty much all my fault. I think it is the embarrassment of the memory, in fact, that is keeping me awake and typing.
I just... I don't know why I just snap sometimes and get all argumentative. I'd swear I didn't used to be like this, at least not with my friends and peers. (My sisters and I totally bicker and fuss all the time). It doesn't help when you get blindsided and would like to make a cautious, polite, rational case for your point of view, but you are holding up six other people, so you end up spitting out rapid-fire objections like a distempered cat. I am willing to apologize, but I'd prefer not to have embarrassed myself in the first place. Is that an option?
You'll recall that I have two - TWO - first level spells to my name. That means when we get into a fight and there are bad guys everywhere, doing to my friends whatever it is that their kind of bad guys does, I have two - TWO - options as to what to do to stop them. Well, not counting the acid I can shoot out of my hands for moderately effective damage, and the possibility of dealing blows with my VERY VERY VERY FINE CLUB. And not counting one of the two - TWO - spells, 'Mage Armor,' which I can only use to help my friends and make them harder to hit. (Not a bad thing to have around, mind you, but I probably shouldn't have taken it at first level. I should have taken something else offensive and left it to faith that the more vulnerable members of the group could stay out of harm's way and not take damage for a few levels).
And what one offensive spell did I pick to learn at first level? As I've mentioned before, it's called 'Grease.' I chose it because it's a spell with multiple applications, some of which reportedly remain good to much higher levels. Right now, I can cast Grease on squares within the area of combat. If someone is already standing on the square I grease, he has to roll a reflex save or fall down. If someone enters a square I've greased, he has to make a reflex save or fall down. And if someone wants to walk across a greased square, he's significantly slowed by the challenge of keeping his balance. Since my friends get bonuses to their attacks whenever an enemy falls prone (uh, pretty much a bonus for 'kicking 'em when they're down...), Grease has its overt uses now, while our opponents are still low-level enough to fail their saves and fall. But they'll get better. The *whole reason* I chose this spell as a high priority at first level - well, other than the fact that it's unexpected and suitably weird - is that it can be used in other ways. You also have the option of greasing an opponent's weapon - or anything, really, that you want him to drop. If you succeed against his reflex save, he drops the item and he has to make another save every time he tries to pick it up again. Not so great if he has good reflexes, but could be handy! Even better: if one of your friends is pinned or locked in a grapple, you can cast Grease on your friend's clothes or armor, and it becomes much harder to keep a grip on that friend.
Of course, the latter two options are only worthwhile if you are permitted to cast Grease on specific items at the same range specified in the spell description. Oh, there *is* a range. And there *are* examples of spells with more than one version, where the rules are different depending on the version you choose. But Grease doesn't have more than one set of rules. It gives one range - a distance of 25ft. - and then lists the ways you can use it. Tonight, my GM abruptly decided that I can never cast Grease on a particular item unless I am touching the item. That means absolutely no dropping of swords. (Whaaat? I *touch* your sword and then *wait to see* if you fumble it? Whaaaaaat?) And that effectively means no helping teammates escape from grapples, since I'd have to know ahead of time that they *will* be grappled and grease the little piggies in advance.
The GM says 'There have to be limits,' and I'm all, 'Yeah, there are. Which is to say: Reflex saves.' If the opponent's reflexes are good enough, they don't suffer from the spell's effects. I waste a turn *and* a spell slot, and the guy doesn't even drop his sword. Our opponents succeeded on their reflex saves several times just tonight, the nimble little buggers. (A smart sorceress with more spells available would switch to a different spell that targets a weaker save. But you will recall that I only know two - TWO - spells).
But I'll freely admit it: I'm mad. I'm kind of mad now, and I was really mad then. (Me, more or less a grown-up, mad about the rules of a stupid game!) I've already noticed a general trend that the GM considers 'what the rules allow' and 'how I picture X being used' to be more or less identical concepts. If you come up with something he doesn't expect, he tends to think: THIS CAN'T BE RIGHT. PLEASE TO BE MOAR CONVENTIONAL.
Meanwhile, I feel like my character not only benefits from but *requires* creativity. Have I mentioned I am going to have *so few* spells available, dudes? I go into every fight reminding myself to think of absolutely every possible application of my three or four options. It is NOT exciting to feel that you have to inform the GM of all your ideas ahead of time, in order to get permission to use a tactic exactly the way it is described in the book! (And, no, the rules don't specifically say 'the range for options B and C is exactly the same as for option A,' but wouldn't they specify any exceptions? Do the rules have to specify that X stays the same in a box, with a fox, on a train, in the rain?)
I was so surprised when the GM wiped out 50% of my future plans for this spell that I *totally* made a fuss. A spluttering, strident, utterly obnoxious fuss. The first thirty seconds or so of which were just Whuh? and What? and But! and IT'S IN THE RULES!!! And then the GM said that he'd more or less see me in detention, because we weren't going to have it out at the table. Which was fine, until a couple of turns later when I had run out of all other options, and our group was getting totally thrashed by this one last Goblin guy (who was already standing on a greased square without falling over, and you can't re-grease that which is already greased - not to any new effect, anyway), and I had no not much choice but to say, 'This is the point at which I'd be desperate enough to try to make him drop his weapon, only you took that option away from me.' And the GM said I could have it for now but he'd deal with me later. And the Goblin's reflexes were so good (as I rather expected) that my ploy had no effect, anyway. I pointed this out. (Sadly, in a spluttering, strident, obnoxious way - or at least that is how my paranoia remembers it). As you say, GM: limits! And here we are, only at first level. The villains are only going to get better from here on out...
Ugh, it was such a fun evening otherwise and we almost entirely behaved ourselves. Why do I have to feel so hung up on handling one confrontation badly? SOCIAL ANXIETYYYYY! (I'm not the only one who argues with the GM, for the record, though I'm one of the only players so far who knows her options well enough to know when she's getting shafted. Plus, a lot of the others have more in common with the GM's tastes. He likes direct damage-dealing. He understands direct damage-dealing. He's always talking as if a sorceress should be little more than a blunt object - rather like a VERY VERY VERY FINE CLUB, see? - just hammering opponents with fireball after magic fireball. I mean, what is spontaneous spell-casting for, if not to do the exact same predictable thing over and over again?)
To end this topic on a more positive note, THE MOST FUN PARTS:
1) We got to talking about the old D&D names that used to attach to many of the spells still in use by Pathfinder. The spells themselves were legally available for Pathfinder to adapt under a complex, wibbly-wobbly, legally-weagley Open Gaming License. But some of the spells had proper names: Bigby's Interposing Hand or Mordencainen's Such and Such. (Beats me how to spell Mordencainen). The spells are still there, but the names are no longer. The wise half-elven cleric and I invented a series of Fight Club themed spells. I SO want to cast 'Jack's Broken Heart' or... what was it? 'Jack's Exaggerated Sense of Rejection'?
2) Our new Rogue, Alastair MacIntyre, is a much better, infinitely more devious rogue than I ever was. We were ready to quit for the day after a couple of biggish fights, but we all ran outside again when we heard a little girl in the spooky dark streets screaming. We had to save her from a Largish Thing, even though we spellcasters were already pretty tapped out. Our rogue, meanwhile, honestly couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to help us or stay indoors and take a nap. At the beginning of his every turn, he would announce matter-of-factly, 'I am trying to decide whether to [execute X helpful maneuver - usually a very good strategy] or go lie down.' This would have been seriously obnoxious coming from anybody else, but this particular guy is a kindly, thoughtful straight-arrow of a gentleman in real life, and his delivery is just so droll. It cracks me up, again and again. His cold-hearted rogue character also swears a lot, but on the whole he doesn't bother to specify any actual contemporary curse words. He just narrates, 'Alastair MacIntyre's shot goes wide; he swears a lot!' Maybe it was all the sugar and lasagna talking, but I kept thinking of irresistibly naughty swears associated with the rogue's fictional deity - who happens to be the goddess of lust. 'By Calistria's pendulous bosoms!' 'Calistria's left teat!' Noooooot appropriate, exactly, but soooooo much fun to say things that disturb the boys, when they make more and more penis comments the more they forget that I'm there. Also: Calistria sounds like an STD.
In other news, I HAD A DOCTOR WHO DREAM! I dreamt that Amy and Eleven and Rory and I were running through the back passages of an enormous Opera House. I never got to see the opulent interior; we were confined to the complicated network of storage rooms and hallways and chambers on several floors backstage. The Opera House was flooding rapidly. We had to keep finding our way to higher and higher ground. Rory got distracted and didn't make it through a door in time, poor dear. The Doctor was forever wandering off, too. But the strangest thing about the dream was my persistent impression that a) I had run through these labyrinthine passageways many times before, so I only had to keep track of the Doctor and try to remember the way, and b) my failure to get The Doctor *and* Amy *and* Rory to safety would cause the flood to reset. I would have to relive the day over and over again until I made sure that all three got out alive. Thus, I was SO VERY SAD about Rory, but I also knew he'd be alive again when the day rebooted, which kept me grim and focused, trying to work out how to beat the Opera House maze.
In other other news, CHEER UP, PRESIDENTRIX, YOU ARE PROBABLY GETTING YOUR CHEAP ON-SALE ORANGE SHOES FROM ENGLAND TOMORROW, you undeserving hussy! I was looking at shiny dice in Waco's prime RPG shop (a disappointing, drab little store - though the clerk was very personable) the other day, and the guy at the counter said, 'Dice for gamers are like shoes for women!' And I wanted to be all, 'Objection, Your Honor, on the grounds of chauvenism!!!' Only I am probably not the best woman to argue that particular case.
And, in concluding other news: one of the only advantages to living a couple of time zones away from my Mailman is I can call her up and order her to watch anything that I watched and liked on the tv. And where she lives, it won't have happened yet! The other day, I ordered her to watch all the way to the end of Craig Ferguson. On account of there was a cute puppet bunny at the end of the show.
She watched it. We talked about it later. It made me think of this:
Click to viewIt made her think of this:
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