Roleplay Rage

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

A flash fiction piece about a group of roleplayers. Aaron had been cheating on his rolls all night, and the main character has finally had enough.

I understand that a lot of the mechanics in the story aren't exactly how role-playing games work, but I had to simplify it for the sake of the story.

Please leave criticism! Thank you!

Aaron had been cheating on his rolls all night. Every skill check, every attack. Hell, he somehow “luckily” landed a natural twenty when he tried sweet talking a dragon. He doesn’t even speak draconic! The rest of the group really got a kick out of it, but for me, it was beyond aggravating.

“Your party comes across a group of raiders. They look fierce. Swords wielded, bows drawn, and a taste for blood,” the Dungeon Master narrates. “What do you do?”

Of course, Aaron busted out the idea of somersaulting above a raider and simultaneously kicking them in the face. He rolled an acrobatics check. “Ha! A nineteen, plus my acrobatics skill...twenty seven!”

“Good roll! You dodge some arrows, do a magnificent somersault and kick one of the raiders in the face for three damage.”

I peered at the dice, which Aaron thought he hid oh-so cleverly. While everyone laughed at Aaron’s move, I fumed. I said, “Aaron. You did not roll a nineteen.”

He looked down. The DM asked to see the dice. He nonchalantly revealed his hands. Sure enough, the dice read nine, not nineteen. “Oops,” Aaron grumbled, staring me down. “Can I get a redo?” The DM nodded. “This time I’m going to punch Billius in the face.”

“What!” I shouted. Billius was my character.

He rolled. “Fourteen, plus six...twenty!”

“Aseir punches Billius in the face for two damage and knocks him on the ground. A crimson stream of blood runs from his nose as he writhes about.” the DM says, somewhat perplexed. “Billius, your turn.”

Aaron grinned as he bit into his pizza slice. His joy only exacerbated my anger. “Billius is going to shoot a fireball at Aseir.”

“Dude.” Aaron’s smile dropped, and so did his pizza. “Let it go. I got a good sock on ya.”

I rolled. “Eighteen!”

The rest of the players lit up. The DM spoke unsteadily. “The fireball scorches Aseir for four damage. He jumps frantically, trying to quell the burn, and eventually drops to the ground and rolls among the dirt. The raiders laugh.”

“Whatever, man,” Aaron scoffed, a muted scorn forming on his face.

The rest of the players took their turns, and the DM summed up their movements. “The party has engaged the raiders, blades slashing and arrows flying. They take one enemy down, but there are still many more to defeat.” He motioned to Aaron. “Aseir jumps up and dusts off the dirt. Part of his elegant battle-armor was blackened by the flame. What will he do?”

“Aseir’s gonna run at Billius with his blade and swing for the head!”

The room froze. Nobody quite believed what they heard. Even the DM asked if Aaron was sure that was what he wanted. Aaron, without an answer, rolled. “Four. Plus three,” he paused, cursing under his breath. “Seven.”

“Screaming to the high heavens, Aseir pulls out his sword and runs at Billius who still lay on the ground. He brings the mighty blade up over his head and swings down. Billius swivels up and out of the way, and now stands on his feet as a dense thud sounds, the metal blade sinking into the dry dirt.  Aseir struggles to relinquish his sword from the ground.” The DM hesitated, reluctant to let me have my turn. “Billius?”

“I’m gonna take out my sword and thrust it through Aseir’s neck!” I rolled the dice in my hand, fueled by adrenaline like I never have before. Aaron watched me with slitted eyes. I gave him a determined look as the dice flew from my hands. The group peered at my roll and gasped. I smiled. “Seventeen.”

The DM let out a sigh, then said, “Billius charges. A look of horror comes across Aseir’s face as he hears the metallic slice of the the sword unsheathing. Before he can shout, Billuis’s blade drives into him. Instant death.”

The room sat wordless. Aaron picked up his character sheet with shaky hands. The DM tried to offer his condolences, but it only enraged him. Aaron ripped the sheet violently into pieces before throwing the scattered bits into the air, where it fell like snowflakes.

Despite his anger, Aaron watched as the battle unfolded. I joined my party against the raiders, but it was too late, the raiders were too strong. The DM, after it was all finished, said, “Your party has been slain by the raider horde. They cut your bodies like steak and celebrate with a feast.” He sighed again. “If only your whole party had worked together.”

And only then, as my adventures as Billius came to an end and as Aaron stared me down with an unquenchable passion, did I begin to wonder if I should’ve let Aaron somersault kick that raider in the face.

Submitted: January 27, 2016

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