Has a That Guy ever improved your game?

No, not a stealth This Guy, or even just a bog standard player, a legitimate That Guy.

The one who has to burn the tavern you all meet in. The one who is presented with a "you probably shouldn't do that" and picks up his dice. The one who looks at his party as a bunch of meat shields and tools to further his own goals.

I've been playing with a That Guy for years, and as we sat back and reminisced over our games the other night, I realized he'd actually improved some of them, or at least given them noteworthy moments.

I'm going to share moments from my Actually Pretty Funny™ That Guy. I encourage you all to do the same.

My That Guy has been my friend for a very long time. It's part of why I have tolerate his antics so long.

We first got into TTRPGs with D&D 3.0. His first character was an Evocation spec'd wizard that, I shit you not, was named "Trogdor The Burninator".

Now, despite his loony tendencies, and loony name, Trogdor was actually played, most of the time, as a fairly straight up Wizard. Excepting a somewhat unnatural lust for all things fiery. He did in fact burn down multiple taverns, some hobgoblin camps, and at least one forest, but he always managed to provoke me into giving him a reason to do so. And thus, the campaign remained underailed.

Until my other friend rolled up a Cleric named Raziel. This was when Soul Reaver was still a relevant game series. God I feel old.

Anyway, that was when he gave us the first sign he was going to go off the rails.

The cleric was the sort of needlessly edgy character that our sixteen year old selves thought was great. Except for Trogdor's player. Trogdor and Raziel butted heads repeatedly in game, never coming to the point of PvP directly, mind you. But they would fuck with each other in more subtle ways.

Hiring NPC's they knew were low level to stab each other or steal their shit, shit talking each other to powerful nobles and whatnot. We were pretty mature for our ages, I guess.

Well, mostly.

You see, eventually the game progressed to where I started handing out magical items of a certain level. Standard useful things like wands, staves, and wondrous items like immovable rods.

Then, just one time, I dropped some Sovereign Glue into a treasure hoard.

Never give a That Guy sovereign glue.

It started small. He'd put it on your saddle, he'd put it in the lock to your door. Standard prankster shit.

But there was one argument Raziel and Trogdor had over I don't even remember what anymore that apparently pushed That Guy too far.

He hatched a plan, the next day he changed his spell list, something our lazy teenage selves rarely did when we didn't have a specific challenge to tailor for.

Raziel's player wasn't dumb, he knew what was up. He took precautions, at first anyway. An entire in game week passed before Trogdor, Loony Destroyer of Worlds, could make his debut as my most memorable That Guy.

All it took was for one in game night everyone else to announce that they went to sleep before he had. I forget what he was doing, I know they were in a forest so I think maybe he was supposed to be keeping watch.

Either way, he saw his opportunity.

Our boy Trogdor picked up his trusty sovereign glue and an immovable rod. I remember the looks on the faces of everyone at the table. That special mix of "come on, really?" and morbid curiosity you get when you know some shit is going to do down.

Then he cast some spells. Among them polymorph and silence, and entered Raziel's tent.

Then, upon applying a liberal amount of sovereign glue to the immovable rod, he declared his intention to insert it into the cleric. Rectally.

Now, the party, sans Raziel's player, are laughing their asses off. That Guy is just sitting there with his arms crossed and the most smug look I have ever seen on someone's face.

I forget what he'd turned into, I think it was either an Ogre or a Troll. The short version is there was no real way for the cleric to win the ensuing grapple, and even though I theoretically was against what was happening, I decided to just do what I'd always done and let the crunch sort itself out so as not to come across as biased.

In my defence Trogdor could have easily thrown the many times I'd let the Cleric physically bully him in my face. So yeah, I let it happen. And happen did it ever.

I have to be thankful for my gaming group. This didn't end the campaign or even the session. We all agreed to refresh our drinks and reconvene. Mostly to give me time to figure out exactly what had to happen now that the inside of a PC's colon was permanently fused to a fucking immovable rod.

In the end I decided that it would be Cruel and Unusual™ to force the Cleric to try to sleep like that and prepare a regeneration spell or whatever it was called. I ruled that removal of the rod, though it would necessitate an externalization of his colon and the removal of some of it as well, was not any more horrific than a wound from a greatsword, and he could heal it with regular magic.

A few sessions later the Cleric lied to a green dragon and Trogdor was no more, but my That Guy had only just begun his career of making everyone at the table shake their head.

Bookmarked. I need more stories of Trogdor the Burninator.

Not a long time later 3.5 came out, and we all hopped on that bandwagon with reckless abandon. I regret nothing, either, because That Guy brought his A game.

This time I was DMing (alas, ForeverDM) for my brother, That Guy, and another friend from highschool. All you need to know about this guy is that he's the weirdest combination of blunt tool and sharp wit I've ever seen.

Anyway, the party rolls up their characters and hands me the worst trio of characters I have ever seen. They literally hit every possible point on the Good vs Evil and Lawful vs Chaotic axis.

Neutral good fighter played by my brother.
Lawful neutral monk played by This Guy.
Chaotic evil rogue played by That Guy. (Yaaaaay)

This campaign lasted a total of I think four sessions, and by the end literally all of them were evil thanks to That Guy insinuating himself as party leader. Let's start at the beginning.

So I had a couple days to plan for this campaign, and I designed a small area of the world with a smallish city that they lived in close to a much larger provincial capitol. Their city was on a frontier, and originally the plot hook I'd dropped was for them to see the local magistrate for work.

But then That Guy suggested they just fucking murder him and take his money instead. So they did.

Not to be a spoil sport, I let it happen and I adapted my plan. I'd done enough work to know the important NPCs in the area. I decided that when the news reached the provincial capitol that a powerful cleric from there would come to the smaller frontier city to cast Speak With Dead on the corpse of the magistrate and help solve the murder.

I'm a fair DM, or try to be, so I allowed the party to catch wind of this, assuming they'd flee the city right into the adventure I'd planned.

Nope.

New plan, says That Guy as he cracks open the rule book and reads the spell description. "We steal the magistrate's head!"

I had no words. My brother had no words. This Guy was ecstatic. "Oh yeah! Can't talk without his head, right? Let's fucking do it!"

I continued to have no words. Until This Guy, saviour of my sanity, asked if he could hunt down a map of the crimescene at the library so that they could try to sneak in rather than charging in with their weapons drawn.

I decided to go with that plan and scrawled down a basic map of the magistrate's manor on looseleaf for the party, and they began their honestly Not Too Bad plans. The session was saved.

So session two comes around, and for all their excellence at planning the game before, these fuckers turn out to be some of the most incompetent at rolling dice I have ever seen.

One classic moment from this session I can invoke at will whenever I'm with these people literally a decade later is what we call "the shriek sneak".

On their way through the top floor of the manor This Guy's monk attempted to sneak ahead. Then rolled a natural one. I looked at This Guy and was about to tell him he failed when he declared, without hesitation, "I yell loudly to cover up the sound of my footsteps".

And so it was that I was forced to sic the guards on them. They knew they couldn't win, though, so they played surprisingly smart. The fighter straight up jumped back out the fucking window and took the rope they'd used to get inside with him. Took moderate falling damage but didn't have to try to hide.

The monk and rogue just hid, relying on their borked hide skills to protect them. It worked. The plan was saved.

And so, they carry on, and with clever use of some darts, caltrops, a tanglefoot bag, and some lantern oil, This Guy and That Guy make it out alive with the severed head of the magistrate in a fucking bag.

Not the adventure I had planned, but good enough, right? No plan survives contact with the party. So I figure, that's it, that's the end. Maybe I can work my adventure in later and advance the monsters a little. I award them all a level for their success while they decide how they're going to dispose of the head.

That Guy has an idea. I panic internally. "Do I know of any blacksmiths in the city?" asks he, and I relax. Of course he does. "Any alchemists?" I panic.

I should have just said no. "Roll gather information", I say. Fuck me, I should have said no.

So, full disclosure, in my homebrew settings I've always included black powder as an alchemical item available to players to try to give life to that whole bomb chucking medieval scientist fantasy some people have. This was before Pathfinder made that an actual class. Piss off.

Anyway, yeah. So I knew where this was going. That Guy picks up enough black powder to level a building, and then heads to the blacksmith's shop. I tell him that he doesn't need that much, or any for that matter, he doesn't care. This Guy and the Fighter shrug and tag along.

they end up using some of the cash they got form murdering the magistrate to bribe the smith into leaving the building for an hour. And then That Guy pours as much powder as he can fit into the sack with the severed head. His words. As much as will fit. Wisely, This Guy and my brother leave with the smith at this point.

I can't, though, so, I sigh, and await the inevitable.

"I throw it in the forge".

So I empty my dicebag of six sided die. He has it coming, I warned him. I told him it was enough to level a building, and frankly fuck Chaotic Neutral Rogues.

I roll damage, mostly as a formality, we both know he's dead. Wait, no, Rogues get Evasion.

In that moment I felt the way all those red dragons myself and countless others have sent up against PC's must have felt.

Rogues. Are. Unswattable. Flies.

So he not only doesn't die, he takes literally no damage. Holy. Fucking. Shit.

"I level a building at point blank and suffer no consequences". Fuck you, chaotic stupid That Guy. Fuck you. But no, he's not done. It gets worse.

That Guy rushes to the tavern, pulls his friends away from the smith, and points out that A. What they just did was awfully suspicious, and B. the smith knows about it.

So he has to die, firstly. Something they achieve by just shanking him in an alley. They then skip a few steps and crush his head into paste right away instead of waiting, and then That Guy hatches a new, and totally not insane plan.

So that the head theft and blacksmith burning cannot be tied together, he suggests burning down the city slums, and you know, burning the smith's body with said slums. Make it look like a random crimewave they had nothing to do with.

I have pretty much lost my ability to be horrified or surprised, so I just tell them to get the supplies and make the rolls.

Turns out they're better at rolling dice than I thought, and their little plan actually goes off without a hitch.

The session ends, and I prepare for session three thinking that maybe now I can FINALLY get these murderhoboes into a fucking dungeon.

But by now you've realized that this is impossible, and my suffering is endless. So that doesn't happen.

INSTEAD session three basically consists of the party chilling in a tavern and being super paranoid because they're terrified I'm going to bring down the hammer of justice on them.

In reality, I just want to progress the fucking campaign to something beyond random and wanton acts of unnecessary violence and cruelty by two people who should know better and a third who is obviously insane.

I will admit to having considered specifically targetting the Rogue, but I knew it wouldn't matter. Once you've seen a player insert an immovable rod covered in sovereign glue into a cleric you know that the universe is a cold and uncaring place filled with loonies.

They eventually decide to take their money and skip town entirely, look for work elsewhere. Makes sense, I guess.

At that point I just threw my adventure idea papers off the table and went into full DM improv mode.

I decide that they come across a roadside inn and brothel. A busy little place where maybe they can find the unsavory sort of work this party apparently prefers.

I start spewing some shit about how the prostitutes are mistreated by and dislike the owner of the establishment for what at the time was purely flavour reasons and also to buy myself time to think of something clever. Which is hard when you have a party as unpredictable as I did.

Turns out that That Guy finally found the Goggles of Visible Plothooks and just straight up shanked the fucking owner of the inn right then and there. A true hero.

Kind of. I guess.

Anyway so because Forgery is Opposed by Forgery™ (why, God?) That Guy, the Rogue with exactly one point in the fucking skill copies out the deed to the place with some minor alterations.

Yes. You read that correctly. They stole a fucking brothel. I played the prostitutes off as grateful and ended the session there. There's a point where you just can't anymore. That was it.

It didn't get better.

I am liking what I am reading OP. Do please continue should you have more

Session four, I didn't even bother prepping for this fucking session because by then I knew better. It was like trying to run a game for a fucking super villain. I'd been bested at every turn in my quest to make these people into actual productive members of society. They'd transcended murderhobodom to become murderlandowners.

Murder. Land. Owners.

Anyway, I ask them what they do first thing because I just have nothing more to add, and they apparently have decided to run a fucking assassin's guild out of the brothel. Makes sense, I guess.

They set up a sign outside and do interviews with every adventurer looking type that walks through their door. I tell myself I can handle this just fine and crack open my DMG and roll over and over again on the random NPC tables, describing the NPCs as they happen.

The party is fairly shrewd in their negotiatins, filtering out any obviously good NPCs immediately, and favouring the scummiest, stabbiest fuckers they can find. Makes sense to me.

And then I roll a fucking Paladin.

This story reminds me so much of my own That Guy. He once stepped into a new town and his first words to the party were "I'm going to abduct a child."
It's a miracle that monk survived as long as he did.

Somebody better be capping this.

It's gold

Okay, so, I expected them to immediately filter this guy out. That would make sense, right? LG = shitty assassin.

But That Guy can smell a challenge. He immediately realizes that the shiny knight in shiny armour is a shiny fucking Paladin and actually, for the like, third time I'd ever seen him actually do it, rolled CHARISMA SKILLS.

For some reason he NEEDED this. He needed the Paladin to join his assassin's guild. I looked to my brother and This Guy for help. None came.

Instead they shrugged and just let That Guy do his thing.

So I open the PHB annnd Sense Motive is, in fact, a Paladin class skill. I'm stoked. I decide this Paladin is high level and smite happy. This is my moment. This is where I FINALLY put an end to the bullshit I've been subjected to.

>Nat 1.

Nevermind.

So, I am essentially forced to let That Guy have a high level Paladin join his assasin's guild that he's running out of a STOLEN BROTHEL and I just can't anymore. I'm so thoroughly fucking done that I end the campaign right there.

I even tell them so, and no one is even mad. Apparently making your DM ragequit is Achievement Unlocked or something. High fives are had, beers are swilled, and I am left sitting there completely fucking beaten.

But... Actually kind of amused. The more time that's passed between those sessions and the present the funnier they've become to me in retrospect, so I thought I'd share them, and my That Guy, who is an irredeemable faggot, but Actually Pretty Funny™

Thank you user, I enjoyed this greatly.

From an outsiders perspective, yes.

Now i have to be careful, because i know some of the players are on Veeky Forums and note my understanding of D&D is near non-existant.

Some friends of mine were running a game of D&D. Now one of the players, Jackass, was being a jackass as usual. Bullying other PCs, wrecking shit, just general jackassery. Fuckface gets sick of Jackass, immediately, as in from meeting each other at the Tavern at the very beginning of the game.

Now i assume that Jackass was built to be really strong, otherwise i'm sure Fuckface would of killed him rather than just taunt him.

Now unbeknown to Jackass, Fuckface would wonder off every night and create hidden portals and sigils everywhere. Fuckfaces personal dimension was also designed to be a massive castle full of traps and obstacles designed.

The idea was that if Fuckface ever got entirely sick of Jackass he'd lure him into a portal, quickly run through his own labyrinthian castle, portal out and while Jackass is slowly working his way through Fuckface would absorb the souls of the largest in-game town to power him up to stomp all over Jackass.

As a player that game must of been real tedious, but hearing all of this makes D&D seem pretty cool to an outsider.

Oh Jesus, I know exactly the spell Fuckface was using. I'm not sure how he could pull off that much prep without Jackass knowing, but the Pocket Dimension of Infinite Gayness is actually a ploy I've seen before.

Thanks guys, he's a pretty great That Guy, if only in the sense that he's fucking mastered his craft.
I've heard those exact words before. How horrible.

Round of applause for OP and his OC

Well user, I'm embarrassed to admit that, while I did cap all your story I have no fucking clue how to amalgamate them into one of those pics we see about glorious stories of wonder we all enjoy so much. I would like to pay homage to your truly entertaining OC by making one such image, but alas I can't into these things and don't know where to start.

Good shit though, sensible chuckles all around.

It's tedious to do, I've done it about three times ever, myself.

Especially if you're using mspaint. I actually have gimp downloaded so for me it was a matter of working with layers, with paint it's true suffering.

I'm sure someone'll get it, though. In the mean time I'm trying to remember more times That Guy did truly great shit.

Like I can think of about a million small time dickheaded things he did. Like the time someone was making a Rogue and wanted a perform skill and he told them to write down "perform felatio". This was 3.0, so the innocent victim of his predatory need to be an asshole didn't know any better.

"What's that?" asked he.

"It's like a small flute." Yeah, I probably should have said something, but, wellll, would you?

Anyway, we forgot that had happened until a month later when the rogue player was short a few coins and said "I perform felatio for the town guard to see if they'll give me money" or something similar.

Needless to say, sides were fucking lost.

But small time shit like that just doesn't compare after I told you about the four session campaign.

There was that one guy who is constantly trying to misrepresent the rules to his benefit while accusing you of doing the same.

No one enjoy his company, but he did force us to lift our game so to speak and actually properly read the rules.

Here have a shitty quick and dirty screencap because it's like 2:30 and I can't be bothered to put in more effort.

Maybe someone else can fix this later I duon't know.

You've done God's work.

Here's the thing: That guy NEVER! improves a game. Repeat after me "That guy never improves a game. That's why he's called that guy"

The word you're looking for is Loony: a guy who does stupid shit that is enjoyable for the group.

That guy took an ungodly shit that it stunk the house out confined my cunt of a sister to her room.

Look at this fag

Nah, a loony and a That Guy can overlap, but sticking an immovable rod in someone's ass is definitely on the That Guy spectrum of loonydom. That's the shit that ends campaigns due to infighting.

When I first got here in 2013, That Guy was always only the person that never contributed anything good to the party and only made the game shit for the group.

Hence my disbelief that That Guy can do anything good at all.

Our That Guy is a terrific roleplayer, best one I've ever seen. This is the only reason he's tolerated, since he's also, an extremely shitty person with no understanding of basic social rules and taboos.

That guy tried to gank me on his first adventure with our party because I punked him with a gold bracelet

Rest of the party thought it was hilarious and fascinating pvp. I just thought I was gonna die because someone decided to be a humourless edgy faggot

Ever since then, I've become obsessed with gathering a party of NPC's of my own behind their back

I have gathered already

Animated Amour
Box of Ghosts
Fey Knight vassal (only about the CR of a dryard)
and a reborn Treant Sappling, whom my Fey Knight is in the process of maturing with Plant Growth rituals

In Process:
Orc tribe blood debt


That guy started by making me feel pretty shitty about the game, but in long term, it's been fun as hell devising ways to construct an army to pull on them at any time now