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November 02, 2005

My First Screenplay

Well, not really. I wrote this on a site I got banned from.

For a while I was reading amateur scripts-- like, on the American Zoetrope site, to get your script evaluated you had to read other people's scripts -- and I noticed a lot of them were, what's the word?, really bad. Many of them, it seemed to me, were just someone's last D&D campaign transcribed into "screenplay" format.

So that's what I did. I don't know if this is all that funny, but it is definitely dorky, and you geeks sometimes seem to like that.

THE SWORD OF GONDLEBREATH

FADE IN:

Two ADVENTURERES suddenly APPEAR in a medieval TAVERN.

One adventurer is BEORN BEANDLEBUTT, a second-level Fighter and First-level magic-user. A human.

The other is STINKY THE ELF, a Third-level Rogue.

We now begin our epic tale...

STINKY THE ELF
Hey, what's up.

BEORN BEANDLEBUTT
Hey.

STINKY
So. what's going on?

BEORN BEANDLEBUTT
Nothing really. What's going on with you?

STINKY
Eh. Nothing. You know.

BEORN BEANDLEBUTT
Same here, same here.

STINKY
Nice sword. What is that, +2?

BEORN BEANDLEBUTT
No, just +1. But it's +3 when the moon is full,
and when used against werejackals.

STINKY
That doesn't really happen too often, huh?

BEORN
Not really, no.

STINKY
Well, it looks nice anyway.

BEORN
Yeah. Thanks.

STINKY
Don't mention it.

BEORN
Yeah.

STINKY
Yuhp.

(Both adventurers are bored to tears at how long it's taking to get the story moving.)

BEORN
(sighs)

STINKY
I hear that.

SUDDENLY. from out of the shadows, and OLD MAN appears.

STINKY THE ELF
Hey, Old Man. You have any hot "rumors" for us?

OLD MAN
(rolling a d20; coming up with an 8)
Yes. Yes. I have a rumor for you strapping adventurers.
I have heard. heard of a tribe of kobolds, living just outside
the town, who attack and loot the King's caravans.

STINKY THE ELF
I did that already.

OLD MAN
You did?

STINKY
Yeah. I killed them, when my cousin Howie
was DM'ing for me in Poughkipsee. Look--
(displays Tiara)
I got this magic tiara off the Kobold Chieftain.

BEORN
Cool. What's that do?

STINKY
It provides me with +1 Protection against the Elements.

BEORN
Elementals?

STINKY
No, the elements. Like rain.

BEORN
So when it rains, you don't get wet?

STINKY
No, I get wet. But less wet. I take minus one to
wetness rolls.

BEORN
Ohhh.

OLD MAN
(rolling a d20, this time coming up with a 12)
I have heard tales... stories passed from father to
son, and then to generations yet unborn... a tale
of an Arch-Lich, who lives just beyond the Black Barrows,
and who hordes a fabulous treasure, including a +5 Bow
of Slaying.

STINKY
Nope. That's the "false" rumor.

BEORN
Totally. Way beyond our level. Roll again, Old Man.

OLD MAN
No! It is not a false rumor! It is a True Rumor! There
is an Arch-Lich, of great magical power.

BEORN
Blah blah blah. We're third fucking level, Old Man.
An Arch-Lich is like Twenty-Fifth Level. No way any
Dungeon Master is going to throw us up against that.
Now roll the die again, and get to the Real Rumors.
Tell us something about Blink Dogs, or Stirges.

STINKY THE ELF
Or a Mephit. Something appropriate to our level.

OLD MAN
Oh, very goddamned well.
(rolls again)
I have heard... heard a tale long in the telling...

STINKY
Skip to it. I just saw over the Dungeon Master's
Screen. It's a tribe of Lizard Men, right?

OLD MAN
...many men have died to protect this secret, many
noble heroes...

BEORN
Is it Lizard Men or not?

OLD MAN
Oh, for god's sakes. Yes, it's fucking Lizard Men.

STINKY THE ELF
*Now* we're cooking with gas...!

THE SWORD OF GONDLEBREATH, PART II

THE ROAD TO PHAGSMERE

NARRATOR/DUNGEON MASTER
When last we saw our Brave Adventurers, they were
preparing to ride to Phagsmere, to fight a
band of savage Lizard Men.

But the Road to Phagsmere has not been
kind to them. They were attacked by troop of
Hobgoblins and were forced to flee, leaving
behind their provisions and tents and water-jugs.

We now see them, huddled around a weakly-sputtering
campfire, in misting rain, in gloomy night.

EXT. CAMP IN RAINY FOREST -- NIGHT

BEORN BEANDELBUTT and STINKY THE ELF are now cold and hungry, because they took nothing except combat skills instead of Survivor Skills or Hunting ability, WHICH I EXPLICTLY WARNED THEM NOT TO DO.

So now they're hungry, and will soon have to begin saving vs. Constitution or suffer -1 to Strength. Which is their own damn fault.

STINKY THE ELF
Well. Here we are.

BEORN BEANDLEBUTT
Yuhp. Nothing going on.

STINKY THE ELF
As usual.

BEORN BEANDLEBUTT
Yeahp. As usual.

STINKY
(sighs)
This sucks.

BEORN
Do we have to play this out, or
can we just skip to tomorrow morning?

(SILENCE)

BEORN
I'm asking, Can we just skip till tomorrow
morning?

(SILENCE)

BEORN
Yes or no. Answer me or I'm going to the
fucking arcade.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
Who are you talking to?

BEORN
I'm talking to *you.*

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
Who is "you"? There is no one here to
talk to, except for Stinky. You are babbling
to yourself. Your voice is lost in the
wind-slashed darkness of the night...

STINKY
Oh, stop with the purple prose already.
You've been reading too many Dragonriders
of Pern books.

BEORN
Can't we just skip past this until we wake up
in the morning? I'm asking YOU, the Dungeon Master.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
There is no Dungeon Master. You are speaking
to no one. You might have to begin saving
against insanity.

BEORN
Oh, for Christ's sakes. Just tell me: Do we
HAVE to role-play this?

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
A little voice inside your head says:
"Yes, you have to role-play this."

STINKY
Great. You know what that means.
Wandering monsters.

BEORN
Yuhp. Wandering Monster City.

STINKY
Well, then, I guess we shouldn't go
to sleep. We'll just keep an eye out
for the Wandering Monsters.

BEORN
Okay. I'll look North. You look South.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
You are getting sleepy. Your body
tells you you need to rest.

BEORN
I tell my body to shut up.

STINKY
I tell my body, "Ni!"

(Beorn giggles shrilly, like a ten year old girl. Stinky laughs too.)

BEORN
Ni!

STINKY
Ni!

BEORN
Niiiiii-wombbb!

STINKY
Niii-wombbb!

(More giggles. The Voice from the Heavens BOOMS again, this time very ANNOYED.)

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
Knock it off with that or I will roll for
Wandering Monsters.

BEORN
What's it matter? You've got one
coming anyway.

STINKY
I say "Ni!"

(Beorn and Stinky start giggling again.)

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
You have to decide who will sleep first,
and who will take First Watch.

BEORN
Neither one of us will sleep. We're
looking out for Wandering Monsters.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
You don't *know* there are any Wandering
Monsters coming.

BEORN
Yes we do.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
No you don't.

BEORN
Yes we do.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
No you don't. YOU might know it, but
your *characters* don't know.

BEORN
Yes they do.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
No they don't.

BEORN
Yes they do. I used my "Sixth Sense."

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
You don't have Sixth Sense.

STINKY THE ELF
Ni!

BEORN
I want some Doritos. Are there
any Doritos left?

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
There is no food to eat. you have no
Survival Skills or Hunting ability.

BEORN
Oh, give it a rest already! This
is so goddamned *lame*!

STINKY
(snickering)
I just hope it's not that scary Arch-Lich
we heard about. I'm shivering.

BEORN
Probably something queer from the
Fiend Folio, like norkers or flinds.

STINKY
Where does your sister keep her bras?

BEORN
Why?

STINKY
Just curious.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
Suddenly-- a group of flinds appears!!!

BEORN
Why are you asking about my sister's bras?

STINKY
She's got a nice rack, dude.

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
The flinds descend upon you, tentalcled-eyes
sparkling in the moonlight...!

BEORN
Don't talk about Leah that way. She's my
*sister,* man.

STINKY
It's a compliment. She's got big jugs.
Like your mom, as a matter of fact.

BEORN
You son of a bitch...!

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
The flinds begin making attacks on you--

(Beorn pushes Stinky. Stinky pushes back. Beorn throws an awkward punch that somehow manages to connect to Stinky's temple. Both fall from the gaming table, wrestling and pulling hair.)

VOICE FROM THE HEAVENS
Stop fighting! Stop fighting or I'll give the flinds
bonuses to their attacks!

To be continued...

***

I have definitely not matured at all over the years.

posted by Ace at 02:33 AM

Comments

First of all, I fucking HATE dealing with my insomnia.

Second of all, that shit brought me right back to the 6th grade when my dickbag Dungeon Master made us role play some bullshit room with an altar that we had no idea what to do with for like 20 minutes.

DM: "You see an altar, what do you do?"

Group: "Pray?"

DM: "Nothing happens."

Group: "Stand on it?"

DM: "Nothing happens."

Group: "Look under it?"

DM: "Nothing happens."

Group: "Dance on it?"

DM: "Nothing happens."

Group: "Oh, fuck this. C'mon give us a hint!"

DM: "The room is silent."

Group: "Something is going to jump out, right? Is there going to be a battle?"

DM: "I'm waiting for you to act."

Group: "Come on! God this suuuuuuuucks!"

DM: "The room remains silent."

Group: "Alright, fine. I take a shit on the altar, ok? I squat and dump a steamy load right on it!"

DM: "Play the game right or I'm going to quit."

Group: "We told you what we did. There's a big pile of shit on the altar. Are the goblins coming now?"

DM: "This isn't funny!"

Group: "Just hurry up. We don't know what to do with the altar, alright? We took a shit, and now we're smacking our asses at the ceiling. So what happens next?"

DM: "You guys are such assholes. Why can't you just play the way you're supposed to! It's not even fun for me when you're dicks like this."

Group: "Fuck it, let's go play football."

Posted by: The Warden on November 2, 2005 03:13 AM

I usually had to bring in an NPC to tell the players what to do. And usually they would end up killing the NPC so I'd have to bring in another one...

Posted by: Alex on November 2, 2005 03:37 AM

Obviously, a roman a clef.

Posted by: on November 2, 2005 05:02 AM

Ace and The Warden - LOL! Holy shit that is funny!

Posted by: compos mentis on November 2, 2005 08:22 AM

So. Accurate.

Damn. Stirges.

Posted by: Andy the Squirrel on November 2, 2005 09:04 AM

Ace, you are a twisted, malevolent mad-genius. That read *exactly* like my campaigns. Only, unfortunately, *I* always got stuck as DM. Always. Which blows serious monkey-chunks.

"No, I get wet. But less wet. I take minus one to
wetness rolls. "

That's funny, my ex- used t take minus one to *her* wetness rolls around me, too.

Cheers,
Dave at Garfield Ridge

P.S. Dude, really-- what's the deal with MT? Your comments have been a pain in the ass all week. Send a complaint or somethin'.

Posted by: Dave at Garfield Ridge on November 2, 2005 09:43 AM

Geez, a month offline for paternity leave, and I come back to find nothing's changed. And that I still feel compelled for some reason to read all the way through this stuff. And I still laugh.

I am a sad, sad geek.

Posted by: Rocketeer on November 2, 2005 09:45 AM

less wet

Priceless.

because they took nothing except combat skills instead of Survivor Skills or Hunting ability, WHICH I EXPLICTLY WARNED THEM NOT TO DO

See, that's why you always bring along a cadre of near-nameless NPCs -- they do the cooking and cleaning, sailing boats, repairing leather goods, walking through knee-high water to check for traps and gray ooze and such.

Posted by: Phinn on November 2, 2005 09:47 AM

US geeks sometimes seem to like that???

Us??

Posted by: Rightwingsparkle on November 2, 2005 09:50 AM

Man...this place has turned into Geek Central...

Posted by: WindRider95 on November 2, 2005 09:53 AM

So, um, well, Ace... do you have any pictures of Leah handy?

I'm sorry. That was rather immature.

I've gotten more sophisticated since then.

Do you have any pictures of your big-chested mother and Leah?

Posted by: Xoxotl on November 2, 2005 09:57 AM

Okay, goddamnit, I want access to splorp and I want it now! I'm tired of that little cgi fucker sucking down my deathless prose and spitting up an error message in return. What is with the server lately, anyhoo?

Posted by: on November 2, 2005 09:58 AM

Um...the above tantrum was mine. Because it's not like Remember Me actually remembers me or nothin'

Posted by: S. Weasel on November 2, 2005 10:01 AM

RWS - Us??

Amen. I've played D&D all of 15 minutes in my life. I frustrated the piss out of the DM. He decided to call it quits and we climbed trees instead. But ya gotta love the scenarios these guys describe, because they paint such a vivid and true picture. Hysterical!

Posted by: compos mentis on November 2, 2005 10:15 AM

Did posting this screenplay have anything to do with your banning from that site? Just curious.

Posted by: Alex_fs on November 2, 2005 11:07 AM

No. I got a little hot in the weeks after 9-11, which displeased the liberal/internationalist crowd running the joint.

Posted by: ace on November 2, 2005 11:18 AM

I've played D&D all of 15 minutes in my life.

You've got 15 more minutes of experience than me.

Say, compos, weren't you in a POETRY CONTEST awhile back? I thought you were a contender. Who won that thing, anyway?

Posted by: Michael on November 2, 2005 11:22 AM

So what do you roll against for wetness in the first place? I found myself disappointed that it didn't say, as I wanted to calculate the exact percentage less wet the tiara would make you at differing base levels.

Posted by: harkyman on November 2, 2005 11:32 AM

harkyman --

It's a DC15 Fort save, DC 14 if you're wearing the tiara. So, your level is already included in the save bonus.

Now quit calculating percentages and roll, dammit!

Posted by: Wearjackal on November 2, 2005 12:09 PM

Michael,

I would love to read your poetry (unless it's perverted, then..no) But if not, just send it over my way.

;-)

Posted by: Rightwingsparkle on November 2, 2005 01:23 PM

No. I got a little hot in the weeks after 9-11, which displeased the liberal/internationalist crowd running the joint.

Uh, how many websites did you get banned from post 9/11, Ace? I don't think the first tower had fallen before I got booted out of one. Bastards.

Posted by: on November 2, 2005 01:39 PM

Great stuff. Now you just need to post part III, in which Beorn argues with the heavens about whether he's permitted an attack of opportunity for fifteen solid minutes.

Posted by: SparcVark on November 2, 2005 07:15 PM

Pure gold man, pure gold. A faitful account of 99% of D&D games when played at ages 17-.

Reminds me of when I got kicked out of a gaming group for climbing into the crawl space of the hall we rented and refusing to come out.

Posted by: Mikey on November 2, 2005 08:29 PM

Uhh, should I keep checking this for updates? Because it's awesome and I want to keep reading it and all, but if we're done, then I'll get back to my World of Warcraft or whatever.

Posted by: The Comish (sic) on November 4, 2005 04:59 PM

Funny, as DM I never had that problem. Normally they were s**ting in their pants TRYING to find some time to goof off like this.

One time I *did* have an "Altar Incident". They fought their way into a Bugbear lair and came upon an altar to their god. A player walked up and defecated on it. The sequence went like this:

DM: "Roll percentiles to see if you PO'd anybody."

Player: "I rolled a 01."

DM: "Oh...yeah; did you ever. Roll your save versus, oh, Polymorph.

Player: "I rolled a 1"

DM: "You're not getting any breaks tonight, are you? OK, roll a random polymorph on the MU table in the PH."

Player: "I rolled a 95; it says, "Roll again on the Druid table"."

DM: "Weird. OK, roll again."

Player: "I rolled a 67. That turns me into a...a...a..."

DM: "Let me see the book...huh. Well, this seems appropriate. You just polymorphed into a Bugbear."

Player: "YOU CHEATED!"

DM: "Day-um, I must be good to fuck with your dice rolls like that."

Strangely, no one in that group ever desecrated an altar like that again.

Posted by: Orion on November 18, 2005 08:07 PM