Times when "It's What My Character Would Do" was GOOD in D&D

[@twistedpinttavern]

What are your "it's what my character would do" moments that ended up being good?

[@thelion2751]

My character was heavily based upon GW dark angels cypher and the big bad guy of the story was trying to sway to his side this npc that was important to the story (daughter of a goddess) and my character have the ability to feel when something important was going to happen like a vision but without the answer so he got "corrupted" to save the npc betraying the group the DM give hints to someone could be a betrayer just that nobody knew who was it was like a hint to one of us do the sacrifice,in the end my character betray the big bad guy by "failing" his tasks and die protecting the girl when the time came, everyone cry it was weird because my character wasn't that friendly,in the end just like cypher his actions were weird and almost chaotic evil just to end in a good action saving the day for a greater future for everyone,just like cypher saving Guilliman when cypher is a traitor

[@godsigner]

Everyone in the party was faced with a fulfilled version of themselves who each wanted to get something from us in return to their power. I was the only one who refused, since my character knew herself well enough to tell it was too good to be true. This choice caused her soul to almost be torn in half after the fulfilled version tried to force her way into her body.

[@twistedpinttavern]

@godsigner It's always a sad but realistic moment when the character would know "this is too good to be true"

[@drakeford4860]

My second (and long-running favorite character) was a warlock named Alsen Dunstrove. A tall, handsome, and dark haired half-elf, he trained his body as hard as his wit. He was cold, ruthless, bitter, sardonic, and more than a bit self-destructive, but he ultimately cared quite a bit for the party, and often handled the more grim and unsavory necessities quietly off-screen, so as to allow his friends to remain morally unsullied. His patron was the lingering remnants of a long-ago murdered murdered arch-primordial who once presided over the concept of space itself, and it had been passed down through his family since time immemorial. The pact had been forged in the midst of a demonic incursion, the Dunstroves gaining power to guard the Prime against invaders, the primordial gaining souls to fuse with its own in a desperate bid at patchwork repair. By the time of Alsen, the thing was hardly recognizable: a writhing, fractured collective of mad souls that couldn't quite mesh into a singular entity, but which had long since lost all individuality. It was not without its perks, of course. The body of the primordial was a sort of space-between-spaces. It touched everywhere, and the Dunstrove line of warlocks were uniquely permitted to traverse it. With a few minutes of concentration and a bit of effort, they could conjure up a man-sized silver door leading into a great black void striped with pathways of stark bone and dotted with an endless myriad of silver doors to everywhere. Only a Dunstrove could find his way in this place and, even then, only with great effort and difficulty. All others were lost. Despite the boons of his pact, Alsen's fate terrified him, and he sought out various means to cheat it. Though it seemed impossible, he did eventually succeed, locking his patron's grasp and influence behind a door of his own, locked, seal, and chained a hundred times over in the depths of his mind. That, however, is a tale for another day. Today's story is of how he gave up that success- and more- for the sake of his friends. Through no fault of their own (and, for once, I do genuinely mean that) the party had found themselves in what can best be described as a sort of fantasy super-max. There were no cages or guards, as it existed in it's own little planar dimension, heavily warded against any sort of magic that would allow travel or teleportation out, and it was administered by a single mad arch-mage protected by another seemingly impenetrable set of wards. Beyond that, the prisoners ran the show. To be clear, most who were here had been placed with good cause. They were all dangerous, in one way or another, with a few perhaps even capable of toppling countries- given the right opportunities and motivation. The party explored the realm and navigated these social circles for a while, looking for a means to escape but ultimately came up short. For all intents and purposes, the prison was impregnable, and only one man seemed to think otherwise. In all the prison, only one man seemed to be actually chained down. He was a massive man, nearly 8ft, and thoroughly arrogant despite his predicament, and he had been there for as long as even the oldest prisoners could remember. He insisted there were flaws in the system. Weaknesses that could be exploited, if only the prisoners weren't so cowardly, so that he could be freed and then could free us in return. No one trusted him. We didn't either, but there were things going on outside the prison that required us- things that could shape the face of the world itself- so a deal was struck. He planned to double-cross us at some point, and we knew that. We planned to double-cross him too. Through some legwork that doesn't warrant a re-telling, we managed to free the man from his mystic bindings, and he instantly took command of the situation, ordering us and our gathered allies around like foot soldiers. One prisoner objected, only to be casually back-handed through a nearby stone column. We thought it best the we set conflict aside until freedom was assured. Our new leader made strait for the layers of wards that separated the mad-mage from the prisoners he "supervised," and tore straight through them. Physically. He grabbed onto the magic itself and _ripped it apart._ It was at this point that we began to seriously wonder if we had made a mistake, but it was too late to turn back now. Behind the wards, we found a room with what must have been the only functioning portal in the entire facility, with a small bronze plaque that had the word "Administration" carved into it floating nearby. After some spirited debate, it was, shall we say, _agreed-upon,_ that our party would go ahead as shocktroops, and our large, frightening friend and the other prisoners would come in behind us as a second wave of reinforcements immediately after. They did not.

[@drakeford4860]

The fight with the mage was grueling. Even aside from his own spells, he had a small army of thralls plucked from among the prison's population over the centuries, and he gated in all manner of beast and monsters besides. The 5 of us managed to kill him eventually, but it took everything we had. No resource was spared, and each of us was left exhausted and barely standing. As our former warden crumpled to the ground, our supposed reinforcements arrived and swiftly mopped up what was left of the mage's menagerie. The giant man strode confidently up to the party, congratulating us on having adequately handled "the gruntwork." As he spoke though, his eyes landed on Alsen's greataxe, a powerful artifact that Alsen had recovered from the clutches of a yugolath mercenary captain sometime earlier in the group's adventures. Before Alsen could react, the man snatched it from the warlock's hands and marveled at the quality of weapon as he claimed it form himself. Alsen attempted to call the axe back to him, but, for the first time in his life, his weapon failed to head his call. "Don't you know it isn't nice to take what's not yours?" Those were the last words Alsen heard before the blunt backside of his own weapon slammed into his gut, shattering several ribs, and sending him flying back through the air and into unconsciousness. He awoke moments later, the last of the group's healing potions at his lips, his head cradled in the lap of Lyana, the group's rogue. Weakly craning his neck up for a view, he could see the sorceress, Salarial, standing defensively between the pair of them and the giant man several yards away. His other two companions lied crumpled not far away, each suffering injuries not dissimilar to his own. The man was soliloquizing on about how he was the true ruler of the world. About how he was its inheritor. Its god. Everything in all the world was rightfully his to claim, and we- we lucky few- had been chosen to serve God-King Eleonart in claiming all that was his right, even down to the very souls of his subjects. Something in Alsen snapped as the words reached him. He'd spent most of his adult life seeking freedom from a would-be god and it's fateful tyrrany. To hear another proclaiming the intent to foist that struggle onto all the world? It was too much. It was beyond the pale. It wasn't something that he could let stand. Lyana saw the look on his Alsen's face, and immediately went from cradling him to trying to hold him down. She'd seen that look on Alsen's face before. It was a look he got when he didn't care, or when he cared far too much. It was the look he got when he was about to pick a fight he knew he couldn't win. But Lyana was always more dextrous than she was strong, and, even in his shattered state, Alsen was powerful enough to slip her grasp. She called out to him to stop, but her words faired no better than her grip. Salarial looked back and merely moved aside. She always had a respect for determination, even when she disagreed with its aims. As Alsen approached the self-proclaimed God-King, he turned his mind's eye to a door he had long-since barred close deep in the recesses of his mind. One by one, he lifted the seals and broke the chains and opened the locks until he could feel a presence he'd hoped to never feel again- a single mind comprised of thousands of warring ones- straining against the other side, with but a single binding thread holding it at bay. "Still want me back?" he asked. He couldn't hear their response so much as feel it. "Then grant me passage when I call." As he limped the last few steps to reach Eleonart, the large man eyed Alsen with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Come back to pay your respects and make your apologies? If you grovel well enough, I may forgive you." "I'm afraid not," Alsen sighed, and then, with a last burst of speed and power that perhaps surprised even himself, he lowered his shoulder and tackled into the God-King's waste, wrapping his hands around the giant and holding with all his might. Not budged even slightly, Eleonart's shock quickly turned to back to amusement and then twisted into outrage. "How dare you dirty me with your filth," he bellowed while raising his arm for a killing blow. "Know your place and d-" Alsen didn't wait for him to finish. Tearing away the last seal on the dark door in his mind, his voice, body, and mind all screamed with strain as his patron's power flowed into him with zeal he had never felt before. A pair of great silver doors appeared, each the size of a castle gate, and not hanging vertically in the air as they always had before, but rather horizontally, directly below the feat of the two men clenched together. Eleonart realised his doom too late. Even as the axe fell, sundering Alsen from shoulder to core, the double doors beneath them swung wide, dropping both men into void below. The enraged, terrified, and evermore distant screams of the great and mighty God-King Eleonart could be heard until the doors slammed shut and disappeared once more. As he fell through one void and began slipping into another Alsen knew that his four friends- though he had never worked up the nerve to call them that before- would survive. That they would go on to do great and terrible (but mostly great) things, and live their lives as they pleased. And for the first time in his life, right at its very end, he found that he felt satisfied.

[@LetholdusKaspyr]

The party had made a daring rescue, but were discovered on the way out. Obvious TPK behind us and gaining slowly. When we came to a bottleneck, my Fighter stopped and held it, covering the retreat. Expected my character to die, but I had at least a few rounds for the party to get clear. Ended up being captured, and the enemy attempted to recruit me until the rest of the party managed a second rescue mission. The enemy looked at us with more respect after that, and we sometimes worked together. His forces were on our side during the campaign climax.

[@twistedpinttavern]

Joining forces with the enemy as a result of being brave and noble is definitely a twist, and I like it!

[@LetholdusKaspyr]

@@twistedpinttavern Pretty sure the DM drew some inspiration from Guan Yu being captured by Cao Cao, though the villain wasn't so nasty.

[@arcdecibel9986]

I tend to get the age-old complaint that my character is "boring" because I only ever play a human paladin. Truly, I've never wanted to play anything else, but when the various entreaties and demands start piling up my answer is "A paladin would never change his class or alignment." It's what my character would do.

[@twistedpinttavern]

Spoken like a true paladin. Honor and glory, my friend.

[@TheHegetzu]

I see myself as a paladin main as well. My characters may have different gods, backgrounds and therefore alignments, but oh boy do they stand!

[@frantisekverner3701]

In my first longer campaign I played a Paladin of Devotion of a god similar to Ilmater. Our group was searching through a magical Labyrinth when we found a storage room. So half of the party decided to loot it, the rest decided not to. The looting caused a horde of Steel Sentinels (low damage, but very beefy) to appear and attack the looters. Our rogue ran through the portal out of the room and dropped a dynamite after himself, destroying the portal. My Paladin wasn't attacked because he didn't loot, but a friend of his, dwarven Fighter was. So my Paladin fought side by side with the fighter until they inevitably died against the horde. Fun thing was that since this was exactly what the God he worshiped was about, he resurrected my character later on.

[@twistedpinttavern]

That's two "it's what my character would do" moments in one story lol. The rogue and your paladin

[@nabra97]

6:26 I guess it's mainly about if it's what other players were up to. From their description, it sounds like everyone had a good time with ruining food for risky petty revenge, and it's the main thing that matters, at least in my book. If everyone was upset, but had to deal with the consiquenses because they couldn't just leave the rogue behind, it would be a bad case.

[@twistedpinttavern]

Agreed, it really comes down to how it's handled at the table and if everyone's okay with it

[@silverpact1008]

I was playing shadowrun, my character was a magic monk. In that system you can essentially use magic to buff yourself internally, or cast spells externally. I was the former, and i was GOOD. My character was a black box child soldier raised by a corporation to handle 'unsavory' issues for them. Then, it went bankrupt, and my young super soldier character was left alone to figure out his life. Queue joining the party. Our party was taking on a mission to escort a VIP. We had some very intelligent, competent, and cunning players. The agency we worked for got attacked right as our VIP arrived for escort. We didn't know why, didn't know who was doing it, didn't even know if our VIP was the target. But guns were firing, and he was pinned down about 80 feet from the entrance. NPCs on our side started responding in kind, and our party members with brains got together to decide what to do. I was not expected to participate, because what my character lacked in brainpower, he made up for in speed and strength that literally defied physics. So everything sounded simple to me. As my party deliberates how to handle the situation, i PM the DM and ask if I'm good to impulsively react. My character was essentially born with super ADHD and purposely never taught impulse control. He says yes. So, mid conversation, the party sees me roll. Very high. On my check to use my super magical body to sprint out of the building, pick up the VIP, and sprint back, while actively dodging the literal hellscape of bulletfire around me. VIP made it to the party unharmed, my character took a grazing shot to the thigh, and told the party, with a shit eating grin, he'd solved the problem. When asked why he didn't consult them first, he responded with "Can YOU dodge bullets while carrying 200 lbs of terrified flesh bag?" Because it's what my character would do. I miss that campaign sometimes. That wonderful ADHD riddled battle junkie. Out of character the party loved what i did. In character, he got grounded for a week and wasn't allowed to participate in underground fighting rings until the grounding was over.

[@twistedpinttavern]

I honestly need to try shadowrun, I've heard so many great stories about it

[@Midnight_Rein]

@@twistedpinttavern The best part about the shadowrun is the ability to roll massive dice pools- since it's a d6 only system it can get *nuts* sometimes. And you don't usually need math. Played a for-fun session with some of the catalyst guys and Bull ended up rolling 20+ dice at a time for a skillcheck. Many clickity clacks.

[@twistedpinttavern]

@Midnight_Rein I do love clickity clacks...

[@silverpact1008]

@@Midnight_Rein I believe at the time of this story my magic man was rolling 34-35 clickity clacks for this type of check. I can't remember exactly, I just know it should be roughly around there. He was essentially hyper power gamed, and I adored his quirkiness.

[@ratgirl34]

My last character had a string of ‘it’s what my character would do’ events. But, she only got herself into trouble, and by the luck of the dice gods and her habit of buying and keeping unusual generic items, she survived. Once dealt with a cr16 challenge on my own. Just barely stayed out of sight, used all of my magical abilities and skills, and was winding if now’s the time to blow my ki points and get the heck out of there lol ‘Okay, they are fleeing down the tunnel, trying to to trip on the train tracks. I could just leave now… but I really don’t like that I haven’t actually killed any of them… what have I got left(shuffling through sheets), c’mon. I’ve got two kinds of chum, some red paint, the train, a bottle of really expensive wine…! I fix the train part I broke, and send it speeding down the tracks.’ Ding, next level.

[@twistedpinttavern]

When the dice let you get away with things it really seems to encourage the antics lol

[@tophatstudios8183]

Zyl leading the people running from the guards: alright just right through here and- Crow: uh….this isn’t what it looks like…..

[@twistedpinttavern]

Of course Crowe's already in the hideout

[@tophatstudios8183]

@@twistedpinttavern hahaha

[@nabra97]

I'm not sure if it's a good one (I'm the one who did it, so I can't be objective), but other players were not against it, so I hope it counts... So, my PC was a noble sword bard whose father was overthrown by a court wizard, and he had to escape with a few other persons (who joined him for different reasons). The point is - he had green hair from his elven ancestry and a scar from some previous adventure. He shaved his hair, but the scar remained. Barbarian jokingly suggested giving him another one to make an old one less noticeable. Bard got unironically hiped on this idea but also wanted to get it during sparring, not just to get cut while sitting still. He ended up: dueling a cleric, getting her down without getting his cut (while she had significantly higher AC than him), taking an axe to the face from a barbarian, and causing a rogue to shoot the barbarian. We were about to take a long rest anyway, so it wasn't that big of a deal, but I still can't explain the whole situation in any way other than "it's what my character would do". PS: The character eventually settled down at level 15, as a part of a completely different group (it's a long story). He still proudly wears that scar, while he can remove it virtually at any moment now. Also, the whole escape arch got strongly associated with some real-life dramatic experience for me, but it's a story for another day.

[@Soveit400]