after dying god informs you that hell is a myth, and “everyone sins, its ok”. instead the dead are sorted into six “houses of heaven” based on the sins they chose.
We arrived first at the House of Lust. “House” is a misleading term. It was more of a camp, spread over acres and acres of lush forest. There was a white sandy beach (nude, of course) full of copulating couples. There were little cabins sprinkled all along the path, from which orgasmic moans regularly came belting out. Men with six pack abs and women with perky breasts strolled by without even noticing me and God. They only had eyes for each other, tickling and pinching each other with flirtatious giggles.
“What do you think?” God asked as we passed a nineteen-way taking place in a pool of champagne. Little cherubs flitted overhead armed with mops and cleaning supplies, thankfully. “Lust is our most popular sin.” I eyed the supermodel-like figures of a couple passing nearby, and could easily see why. “You can look however you want. Hell, you can be whatever gender you want. No fetish is too taboo, and no desire can be denied here.”
It was quite tempting, but I wasn’t ready to make a permanent decision here. “Let’s see the others,” I told God.
We carried on to Greed. We passed rows and rows of mansions, each more opulent than the next. Some of them were so large that they would have had enough bed rooms to fit my entire hometown. And so many different styles: one second, we were in a beautiful French vineyard in front of a gorgeous chateau with the Alps in the background. The next second, a warm tropical beach with a modern mansion atop breathtaking cliffs. After that, a ski chalet in Colorado with a roaring fire in a hearth large enough to fit an ox. Each one had various Italian sports cars and Rolls Royces parked in front, with the occasional smattering of boats, helicopters, etc.
“Any material desire you ever wanted,” God explained. “Your own world, where you can have everything. You want the Hope Diamond? You can fly to Washington DC in your own solid gold helicopter and buy it from the Smithsonian. Hell, you can just buy the Smithsonian.”
Also tempting, but I decided to keep looking.
Gluttony was next up. Tables and tables of the very finest foods: beautiful steaks cooked medium rare; butter-poached lobster tail; fresh oysters on a half shell; exotic wines in dusty bottles that had been hiding in the cellars of the world’s finest restaurants. Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand and simply lounged on couches and chairs near the tables, eating endlessly. As soon as the inhabitants took a bite, the food just instantly came back. My mouth watered even watching them.
“In every other House, the food is practically sawdust compared to Gluttony,” God explained. “You haven’t truly experienced heaven until you’ve been to Gluttony.”
I shook my head, and we kept moving.
Sloth was as you’d expect. An endless sea of the softest mattresses, stacked with cushions and pillows that made the story of the princess and the pea seem minimalist. Little angels visited each resident, giving them massages that made them all melt into their blankets.
Wrath was… well, a lot like what I’d expect Hell to be like. Fire, brimstone, whips, torture.. you know, the works. Except here, you weren’t the one being tortured. Every enemy you’d ever made in your real life was now under your thumb. “Lots of people choose their fathers,” God explained. “Lots of grudges against parents in general, you know. But you’re not limited to that. Someone beat you out for a big promotion back on Earth? Take your pound of flesh here.”
Then we arrived at Envy. It looked… well, a lot like home.
“Go on in,” God said, gesturing toward the door. I turned the knob and walked in… and found Emily waiting inside. She ran forward, wrapped her arms around my neck, and planted a kiss right on my lips. “Welcome home, honey.”
I looked back toward God. “Oh, don’t be coy,” he said. “You have no secrets from me. We all know that you were in love with your best friend’s wife.” She didn’t seem to hear him at all; she went back into the hall. “We all know that you just settled for your own wife while secretly pining after her. Well, this is your chance to live happily ever after.”
I peered into the kitchen. Emily was baking something, wearing nothing but an apron. Her curly black hair fell softly over her shoulder as she whisked ingredients. She turned back, noticed I was observing her, and an enthusiastic smile spread across her face.
“It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” God whispered in my ear.
I wanted to take it. God damn did I want to take it. But I shook my head.
God seemed puzzled. “You need to make a decision,” he told me.
“I haven’t seen Pride yet.”
He scoffed. “No one ever wants Pride, trust me.”
“Well, I want to see it.”
_________________________
Pride was boring. Just a row of workbenches in a bare white room.
“I don’t get it,” I told God.
“Yeah, no one does,” he answered. “That’s why no one ever chooses it. Doesn’t cavorting in Lust sound better than sitting here building little trinkets for the rest of eternity? Wouldn’t you rather gorge yourself in Gluttony? Or spend time with Emily in Envy?”
I considered the options again. “I pick Pride,” I finally told him.
He narrowed his eyes. “What? Look at it!” He gestured around the room again. There wasn’t much to look at. “Why would you choose this for the rest of time?”
“Because you don’t want me to pick it,” I told him. If he was really God, he’d know what a contrarian I can be. And I knew he was hiding something, trying to pretend like Pride didn’t exist. There was something special about it.
God scowled back. “Fine.” He led me over to one of the workbenches. In the center, there was a black space. A blank, empty void that went on forever. “Here’s your universe,” he said. “You’ve got seven days to get started.” He took his seat at the bench next to me and went back to tinkering in his own world. After a long pause, he finally spoke again: “You know, it might be nice for me to actually have some company for once.”
I know many of you out there are feeling a bit down. Have a crow to Wouldn’t it be Nice by the Beach Boys to lift your mood.
He stops and looks both ways?!?
You wanna know what makes this better?
Crows normally walk. This one seems to have both legs working, so he’s not hopping out of necessity, he’s doing it for fun. Corvids can sometimes be seen doing things like this for no evident reason other than enjoyment.
Everything about this is a masterpiece: the girl that says “wow” and the girl that says “hi” shyly and bill awkwardly lifting his hand to say hi to them I’m cracking THE FUCK UP
(Context: my friend is a pretty new dm and just sent my two person party to a new location where something is putting a serious negative energy out)
DM: Okay so the town is pretty dreary but there’s a very cheerful sign with colorful letters and a big blue gem-
Me (just trying to be a dick): I steal the gem and punt it off the cliff
DM: N-no, what? You know what, roll
Me: *rolls a nat 20*
DM: Suddenly everything is fine in the town and-, I was really proud of this puzzle and now it’s over because you kicked this ancient magic item off a cliff
(Cue vicious cruel laugh from me and the other player)
So, this happened during a Pathfinder campaign me and a few of my friends had a while ago. Besides the DM, there was a Ranger (me), a Rogue, a Paladin, and a Sorcerer who loved trolling. During our quest, we ended up coming across this abandoned mansion that was booby-trapped like none other.
For the first fifteen or so minutes of gameplay, my character alone got bit twice in the leg by bear traps, had a poison dart shoot him in the arm, and got shot by a ray of evil from a seemingly haunted painting. Needless to say, it was going to be a very long quest if this continued.
Sorcerer (ooc): Alright, I’ve got an idea. (to DM) I cast Prestidigitation on [Ranger] to make it look like I put a barrier up around him.
DM: Okay…
Sorcerer (ooc): I then tell him that I’ve made him invincible as long as the barrier is around him.
Me (ooc): I don’t think Prestidigitation works that way.
Sorcerer (ooc): Maybe not, but your character doesn’t know that.
Me (ooc): Oh, you fetcher!
DM: Alright, [Sorcerer], roll to Bluff, [Ranger], roll to Sense Motive.
We both rolled, and I rolled a low enough Sense Motive and [Sorcerer] rolled high enough Bluff that my character believed his…at least to a point. So, we get to the end of the hall and notice a small divet in the floor. Our Rogue is able to find that there is a trap there, but she can’t tell what or where it is.
Me: Well, let’s do this. (ooc) I rush towards the door.
DM: Alright. (rolls, then pauses) As you run towards the door, two large axes swing down to cut you in half…
Me (both in and out of character): Frick!
DM: …but something in the trap mechanism gets caught, and so they both stop an inch away from you as you pass by, and then drop to the floor.
All of the players were in complete shock. Eventually, my Ranger turned to [Sorcerer].
Me: How long is this invincibility supposed to last?
DM (to [Sorcerer]): Roll to Bluff.
Sorcerer: (rolls Nat 20) Indefinitely.
Me: (turns to the stairs) I’M INVINCIBLE!!!
What happened from then on was incredible. Every trap my Ranger came across failed epicly. Flamethrowers from the walls? They sputtered out as I passed by. Haunted paintings? Their evil rays bounced off my armor. Spikes from the floor? They’d jam up as I’d pass by. The only trap that worked was a trapdoor, and even then I somehow only took one point of fall damage.
Me (ooc and after clearing the mansion): This is awesome!
DM (rubbing temples): This is a headache.
Sorcerer (ooc): It’s like a placebo, but better!
For the rest of the campaign, my Ranger genuinely believed he was invincible. While the DM didn’t have as bad of a Fail-rate as he did in the mansion from then on, my Ranger still managed to be the one who dealt the most damage and survived the most mortal wounds.
