Desperate to get the evil impulses out of his system, one of the players has stepped up to run an Evil campaign, in which the PCs are all flagrantly, shockingly, embarrassingly evil. Wisely, the transcriber has called for a role-call at the beginning of the session!

Yogg: Cambot! Gypsy! Tom Servo!
0ND: You’re not playing Tom Servo.
Yogg: YOOOOOOGGGG!
Lowe: Lowe Sinweaver.
Fethwick: Fethwick bon Bimblestindt
Amarie: Amarie on’Tyr.

The transcriber belatedly realizes he should have demanded spellings. Well, live and learn. Yogg giggles madly over Fethwick’s name.

0ND: So we’re off to see a king who’s evil and wants us to do evil for him.
Yogg: Is that the premise? I forgot.
DM: Oh no, you’re not off to see the king. So, for reasons of your own, everyone is making their way to the capital city of Emberstone. As you approach the city you see decorations and many, many more people than you’d expect. You see thousands more that you expected! There are tents set up outside the gates. You see men with swords, you see soldiers walking everywhere. As each of you are making your way into the capital, together or not, it does not matter, you see fights starting, people picking at each other, arguing, women being raped, you see people being beheaded, children crying –
Yogg: Why are people heading TOWARDS the city, they should be walking away!
0ND: They have terrible judgment!
DM: You see depravity and darkness around you.
0ND: Is this the Purge?
Lowe: Oh my God, we’re in Gotham City.
0ND: I mug a rich man and his wife, then shoot them, leaving their child behind. This can’t backfire on me.
DM: DO you try to mug a rich man and his wife?
Yogg: He just wants the pearl necklace, that’s all!
DM: You see signs! Posters everywhere.
Yogg: Uh-oh. I can’t read.
Amarie: Yogg can’t read! What funny signs say?!
Fethwick: “Don’t worry, Yogg, I will read it for you!”
Yogg: “Who you, little man?”
Fethwick: I thought we met before.
DM: No, not necessarily…

The PCs take a moment to hash out what they’re doing and who they know. As it turns out, Yogg and Fethwick are together, mainly to give Yogg a purpose for being here. The signs declared gladiatorial games, with the prize being becoming lieutenants of the king.

DM: Apparently he was displeased with his last group of lieutenants for disobeying his orders and had them executed.
0ND: I don’t think I WANT this job! It doesn’t seem like a good one to take!

The PCs take a moment to figure out what the benefits of the job would be, besides the opportunity to be executed. The rewards are apparently riches, dark knowledge, and the ability to get away with stuff in the king’s name.

0ND: I immediately veer, not caring who I knock into, and stomp off to go sign up for these games.
Amarie: Knowledge and power of the dark arts? I’m in.
DM: As you stomp away, heading towards the gladiatorial signups, you realize that in a city this vast you don’t know where you’re going.

A pause.

0ND: It would demean me to ask directions! I will stomp around until I find it!
DM: After two or three hours of stomping around, kicking peasants out of your way…
Yogg: You look for a hole in the wall to stick your interface into.
DM: Tell me your physical, like, size.
0ND: (who is a warforged) 6’8”, 310 pounds.
DM: As you are stomping around, people are scurrying out of the way to not be squashed beneath your mighty feet…

It occurs to everyone that everyone is either really huge or really small, which amuses them. 0ND finally finds the quartermaster who’s taking signups, and damages the doorway on the way in.

Lowe: This is a very ill-planned city, if 6’8” is enough to knock it down.
0ND: “I hope the contestants are superior to the architecture.”
Yogg: Is there a rubber band inside the door?

0ND signs up and is told the matches will begin in the arena after noon the next day. Amarie shows up next, while Fethwick laboriously attempts to explain the benefits of the position to Yogg.

DM: “You are here for the games, child?”
Amarie: “Xas.”
DM: “Zass?”
Amarie: It’s drow, that means yes.
DM: “I don’t speak too much drow.”
Amarie: “You will learn.”
DM: “Your mettle might last at least a minute. But if you wish to throw your life to the games…”
Yogg: “That’s a question Yogg will ask himself.”

Fethwick and Yogg make an appearance, trying to sign up as a twofer, and promptly get in an altercation with the guard over questions of how alternative their lifestyle is. Fethwick searches his power list to determine the appropriate level of retribution, while Yogg is puzzled.

Yogg: “What man say? Fethwick look angry.”
0ND: “He says he wants a demonstration of your punching prowess.”
Fethwick: “The man thinks we’re lovers!”
Yogg: “What little man’s name?”
Fethwick: “Your name?”
DM: “Master Sergeant—“
Fethwick: “I said name, not title.”
Yogg: “Mr. Master. You take punch in face good?”
DM: “Do you take holding up to the stockades in the full force of His Majesty’s forces?”
Yogg: “That not be Mr. Master’s problem after Yogg remove head from shoulders.”
DM: “But that will be your problem once you do. My life is forfeit the second I joined the army.”
Yogg: “Mr. Master not like living?”
DM: “Mr. Master’s life does not belong to him. He will do his duty and if he dies in the process, so be it.”
Yogg: (increasingly puzzled) “Mr. Master’s duty to die at secretary’s table?”
DM: “If it’s in the honor and the glory of His Majesty’s service, so be it.”
Yogg: “Yogg sorry about this, but Yogg can help Mr. Master lose life, if that is duty.”
Fethwick: “Sometimes there’s wisdom in such simpletons.”
Yogg: “Yogg not understand… Mr. Master say his life is over, but tell Yogg to make decision.”
Fethwick: “…we’re gonna sign up.”

Fethwick signs so ludicrously he has to request a new bottle of ink. Yogg debates numerology with Fethwick for a bit, as he voices his concerns that a number exists between 3 and 5. Lowe, meanwhile, tries to figure out what the hell he’s doing, since Chronepsis is more uncaring than Boccob.

Lowe: How am I gonna spread the word about not giving a shit about it? I might as well worship fucking Kevin Bacon.
0ND: Dude, you just have to not give a shit about the fact that he doesn’t give a shit. It solves itself.

Lowe wanders around and denounces other religions and promotes nihilism, while the DM clarifies that inside the walls, the violence and mania outside has not spread.

Lowe: I go on. “Your god would’ve protected your baby from dying.” “My baby’s not dead!” (mimes striking an infant)
0ND and Fethwick: (laugh, condemning themselves to hell)

Someone takes offense to Lowe’s denouncing, and Lowe turns on him to haughtily demand to know which god he follows.

DM: “I pray to the one god of all things that make the world turn! I pray to the great god of Glittergold. And money!”
Lowe: “Of course. Gold does make the world go round, but I see you do not have much gold yourself.”
DM: “I’m sorry. Then maybe I should just help myself to the gold in your pocket.”
Lowe: “You can try.”
DM: “I think I will.” Roll for initiative. At this point in time, a ring of people has formed around you, creating a small little pit.
Lowe: Oh my God, we’re in Pit Fighter now?!

0ND wanders up just in time to see the man pull out a sword and fail to hit Lowe’s AC. Lowe promptly crits the face off the dude.

Yogg: Do not let that die out of your sight. That’s an Amarie die, right there.
Amarie: Hey, how did my die get over there?

19 point of damage to the man, which cheerfully cut off his taunts as Lowe lops off his arm and head in one stroke. Lowe vows to become a lieutenant just to stick it to this guy, as his cloud of knives fires wildly and kills a bystander. Armed guards force their way into the circle.

Lowe: “This fool thought it fit to attack me.”
0ND: “And he fell on his own sword. I witnessed it.”
Lowe: “It was such an unfortunate accident.”
DM: “Accident or not, I bring you to trial for the death of the innocent standing over here.”
0ND: “She fell on that knife.”
DM: “Regardless…”
Fethwick: Everybody’s crooked, all right?!
Yogg: We could end this right now. We’re evil! We’ll fight the guard.

The guard demands to know who would collaborate, but Lowe mouths off to the guardsmen. Two more show up, drawing their weapons to outnumber Lowe four to one. He still refuses to come, as the guards insist their lives are forfeit!

Lowe: I got Destiny over there. So if I die, Destiny!

0ND insists he’s involved in this, to the DM’s total surprise – he hadn’t even processed the warforged as being present yet. The other PCs also begin falling into line to involve themselves.

Yogg: “Fethwick. Why not people move for us?”
Fethwick: “Because they’re ruuuuuuuude!”

One guard misses, but one guard deals 9 points to Lowe by striking at a weak spot in his armor!

0ND: Innocent bystander, toss him at one of the guards who’s coming in so it looks like he’s diving in to help.
DM: …Ha ha, this is going to be great!
Yogg: Evil characters!
0ND: I rolled a, let’s see here, 27 on my attack roll…
DM: As you grab the innocent man standing next to you, his eyes go wide as a giant hand takes a grip on the back of his shirt, and he finds himself being thrown at one of the two pursuing guards.
Yogg: Wilhelm scream!
DM: He lets out a yelp of surprise as he flies at the guard. He lands, crashing directly into one of the approaching guards, knocking them both to the ground prone.

A guard shoots a look at 0ND, who promptly rolls a 19 on his untrained Bluff and somehow manages to get out of suspicion. Yogg grimly begins shouldering through traffic. Amarie backstabs a guard, dealing 21 points of damage. Fethwick, from convenient Yoggtop viewing post, manifests Suggestion on the pair of them and orders them to lay down their arms. One fails and drops his sword! Lowe whacks the guard.

Yogg: “Yogg can eat many Doritos in one go. Yogg eat so many Doritos one time that whole hand was orange. Yogg lick dust of fingers but they were still orange.”
Fethwick: “Which was strange, because they were Cool Ranch flavor.”

Yogg finally gets so irritated that he decides to smash the city guard, helped along by memories of Mr. Master being rude to Yogg.

Amarie: Yogg can’t wait to bomb some dodongos.
Yogg: Yogg roll pretty good on initiative, too!

The players cheerfully admit that they’re enjoying rampaging around as evil characters. Amarie somehow misses an attack, then uses an item or spell or something to go again and immediately not miss.

0ND: I casually but too loudly suggest, “I bet that sword of his would sell for like 70 gold pieces,” to my nearest neighbor.
Fethwick: Trying to incite a riot.
DM: (pounding the table helplessly) I love this character!
Lowe: Just throw some gold.
0ND: I have no social skills, but I just love screwing with humans. I had no idea he would be such a goddamn instigator when I started playing him, but apparently something about watching humans fight each other works for them.

They take a while to figure out what 0ND is actually rolling, but whatever it was he rolled a 17 for. Good enough, and two people go for the sword! The guard tries to get the man on top of him off and fails. The guard who dropped his sword is wrestling those two dudes for it. Yogg chops wood on the fallen guard for 21, while Fethwick spikes Demoralize into everyone. Amaries and Low pass and no one else does…

Fethwick: “Ah, the scent of urine, excellent.”
Yogg: “Smell like home.”
DM: Next, the guard… god damn, this die rolls like crap.
Yogg: It’s just his god failing him. You should be trying to convert these people.
Lowe: I’m denouncing people, but I’m not giving them other options. They can convert to Chronepsis on their own.

Lowe Mountain Hammers the guard, cracking his bones. Amaries shit-talks the guard as she cuts him down.

DM: As you look the guard in the face, his eyes are wide from being demoralized. You grab a handful of his hair and yank it back, and smile.
Amarie: First I’ll kiss him. Grab his hair, yank it back, lay a long kiss on him…
Lowe: This turned into a weird fanfiction really quickly.
DM: You smile as you drag your blade across his throat.

Yogg, who is temporarily renamed Ogg because the DM is like that, cleaves the last standing guard in half. Fethwick uses Energy Push to hammer the downed guard into the ground.

DM: The guard is able to pull a boot knife out of his boot, and stabs one of the peasants in the neck to get them off of trying to steal his weapon. But the other peasant takes advantage of his temporary distraction and is able to take the sword and stab the guard directly through his forearm for 8 points of damage.

Lowe asseses his options for attacks. One obvious choice immediately comes to mind.

Lowe: You wield a blade, now, peasant? You die with a blade.
DM: “But my fight was not with you!”
Lowe: “But your blade’s fight is with me.” …I miss him. Wait, no.
Fethwick: How do you miss a peasant?!

Lowe impales the peasant brutally, lodging his sword in the ground from sheer strength. 0ND is up.

0ND: Angry and upset that I actually felt the quivering of fear tugging at my robotic being, I decided to take it out on the surrounding crowd. A 17 on my Intimidate check just to yell at them at large.
DM: 2d6… 7 people directly around you turn and start cowering and fighting with people around them to get away!
0ND: Ah, that makes my ego feel better.

Amarie licks the blood off her blade to Intimidate, but the guard is not particularly bothered… being that he’s in the middle of a scrum for his blade. The discussion gets weird.

Lowe: According to my coworker, I should drink half my body weight in water. That’s 120 pounds of water! I’m not drinking that much water a day! I will die!
0ND: You can drown! “Those aren’t tears, water’s coming out of my eyes to escape my body!”

Fethwick finishes off the guard with Energy Push, turning him into a frozen statue caricature, and Lowe coup-de-grases him. The DM describes the blood aftermath of the battle – and then someone hurls a Hold Person into the mix! 10 more of the guard have appeared on the scene; these guys look much more badass than the previous.

DM: The captain of the guard looks to you, sees that the Hold Person spell did not work, slowly looks to all of you and says, “You are under arrest.”
Lowe: “Your men had accidents. So many accidents. Do you want to have an accident too?”
Yogg: “Yogg want trifle with city guard.”
DM: These are not city guard.
Yogg: “Yogg want trifle with new guard patrol.”
0ND: Yogg can’t speak.
Yogg: You can’t speak with Hold Person?!
Fethwick: I know what he’s thinking.
DM: “Accidents or not, you will be spending the night in the cells. You four are under arrest.”
Yogg: Which one of us is not under arrest?
0ND: (raising his hand)
Fethwick: Because he’s been able to fake it.
0ND: All I did was yell encouragement and push one dude.
DM: Yeah, but nobody believes it was you. Well done, dude.
0ND: A human jail would not suit this robot…

A long debate ensues over how they’re transporting Yogg without getting into further combat. They eventually load him onto a floating disc to transport him, to the amusement of all. Amarie attempts to forfeit her weapons to 0ND to exploit a loophole in the guards’ instructions.

Lowe: I think you should be hired as a storywriter at Bethesda.
DM: Oh please, I’m not that good.
Lowe: What are you talking about? Every game we’ve played so far, we’ve ended up in jail. You’re a writer for Bethesda!
Yogg: Hey, don’t throw just him under that bus!
DM: Completely out of character, I had no intention of everybody going to jail!
0ND: (indignant) Hey! Name one time I’ve – Name two times I’ve gotten you all sent to jail!

Everyone gets a good laugh out of this. The characters begin to march generally towards the dungeons without actually making it there…

Yogg: Five hours.
Lowe: Five hours of just walking around!
0ND: I’m just standing there watching the cleanup – “What are you guys doing back?!”

By the time Yogg finally comes out of his spell, fifty guards surround him and he’s been chained up. He makes a few efforts, then rolls a 20 to burst his chains! Fethwick debates a charm on Yogg to calm him down… and the group collectively realizes that Yogg is the gaming group’s charm bitch, over the years. The cells are miserable single cells underground. 0ND spends the evening being amused by humans killing themselves. Fethwick bangs on his cell door and calls for the guard, but is ignored.

Lowe: I coulda broke down the door. Mountain Hammer doesn’t require weapons, I could’ve just wrecked the door. It ignores hardness…
Fethwick: And my Energy Push ignores hardness for sonic…
DM: I gotta come up with more elaborate ways to imprison you all. Everybody has a force golem standing outside their door, like this! It has to be deactivated by the guard!
Lowe: Stone wall. Forcecage. Fire wall. Dispel magic barrier…
DM: You are surrounded by a Prismatic Wall. As the eyeslits on everyone’s door comes open, you hear a voice calling out to you. “You four have been brought to my attention. I am Sarras Foulmouth, I am the voice of the king.”
0ND: “And the whore, I’ll be trying you all out. I look as good as I sound! Who will become the king’s pleasure-slave?”
Fethwick: “And twice as tasty!”
0ND: “No, twice as juicy!”
Amarie: God damn it.
Fethwick: “I call thirsty thirds!”
DM: Oh, wow.
0ND: “I earned my title. Juicy Juice!”
Yogg: “Yogg like Ssssips.”

Sarras notes that most of them had signed up for the Games, then inquires of Lowe if he wishes to join as well. Lowe, for lack of anything else to do, throws in.

Yogg: Your schedule’s pretty open inside the cell.
Lowe: I was gonna go stand over there by THAT wall for another hour, but I could do the tournament, pencil that in.
0ND: “Chronepsis, if you’re okay with this, please give me no sign.”
Lowe: He’s fine with it.

Giving them no food or water, Sarras takes off. Amarie cheerfully indicates she has food and water in her inventory.

DM: Just – go with the assumption that they took everything off their person! You are in jail! They’re not gonna be like, “Okay I’m gonna take your dagger, but you can go ahead and keep your backpack!”
0ND: Where does my mule sleep?
Yogg: Is your mule a construct also…? They better send very..
Amarie: They better be careful who they send in, Yogg will just take the guy and eat him.
Yogg: Whoever unlocks my door had best do it with keys on a long pole. I’ve still got my axe in my hand.

For some reason, the scene lapses into Relax-O-Vision. Sarras comes to see them off to the games. 0ND mocks them by telling them he’s had no food or sleep either.

Amarie: You’re a construct!
0ND: And that’s only one reason I’m better than you.

Yogg calls his armor to him, to the mild surprise of the DM. The captain, with a smirk, informs them that the games will be no challenge, but he looks forward to watching them fight. Then, he leaves them on the floor!

DM: As you look around, the arena itself is 80 – I’m sorry, it’s a hundred feet in diameter.
Lowe: This arena is getting larger as we look around!

Tens of thousands of spectators look on the arena, though the king himself appears to be absent. A strange pale bald man appears in the king’s box, silencing the crowd – and with perfect timing a small child screams outside the game apartment, making everyone giggle. The man is deemed to be Voldemort.

DM: In the name of the King, Draegoth Dragonrider, I, Serras Foulmouth, decree these games…that the five left standing –
Lowe: WOW! What an unlikely number!

Initiative! Amarie, of course, is first; she promptly proposes hiding behind the giant warforged and using him as a shield. She instead stabs someone, an arrow goes flying, Lowe stabs another and finishes him off, a dagger kills another guy. 0ND strolls for the outside of the combat.

DM: As you look around, you see everybody fighting for their lives… except for this gigantic warforged who’s just casually strolling around, taking in the carnage.
0ND: I’m just heading for the edge so there aren’t people behind me –
Yogg: He bravely ran away!

Fethwick casts Energy Retort to brutalize anyone who attacks him, while Yogg obliterates a foe. A lot of attacks fly out… it isn’t super-interesting. Lowe kills a dude, Energy Retort blasts a guy, and 0ND starts slapping around archers, in the theory that they’re too clever. A guy charges Yogg, but Yogg squeezes his face off.

Yogg: “This strange way to feed prisoner, but Yogg will not argue.”
DM: You squeeze and squeeze until you feel the softness of the man’s brains and eyes squish out between your fingers.
Fethwick: “Ah, that’s how we should have opened those coconuts that one day!”
Yogg: “This man like Mr. Master. He want Yogg to crush head.”

Attacks continue to fly. The PCs are dominating the fight!

DM: A third fighter attempts to swing wildly with an axe at our young – I don’t know if you’re young or not, but our young gnome!
Fethwick: Oh no, I’m 76 years old.
DM: Attempts to swing wildly at the aged gnome!

The PCs just keep stomping their opponents with dramatic descriptions all the way down. Finally, someone shows up who actually doesn’t crumple in one hit! 0ND kicks a dude in the nads for 11 points of damage.

Lowe: I should have made a warforged that’s traveled back in time to kill John Connor. That’s his goal.
0ND: Roll a Bluff check. “Come with me if you want to live?”
Lowe: I think I’ll roll Intimidate for that!
DM: You look up and you see one other warrior, greataxe in one hand and longsword in the other, easily decapitates the solider in front of him.
0ND: Are we sure he’s not a PC?
Fethwick: It’s Giles.
0ND: It’s Iglar!

0ND, not really worried about the archer with one hit point or the nutshot guy, ponders his options. Fethwick tries to convince Yogg that the mighty dude is a guard to inspire his anger.

Lowe: “So many people, so many accidents. So little time.”
0ND: Chronepsis, the Mafia Dragon.
Lowe: The God of Accidents.
0ND: Would you like to buy Chronepsis insurance? Wait, Planning IS one of his domains…
Lowe: I sell you death insurance. I insure you will be dead.
0ND: His domains are Planning, Accidents, and Insurance.
Lowe: The domains I chose are Planning and Timing. He’s all about setting up accidents!
0ND: You should get White Raven Tactics. “That’s a nice initiative order you got here. It’d be a shame if someone were to break it.”

The mighty dude’s weapons bounce off Yogg’s armor, while in the background various heroic themes fire off. 0ND hurls the nutshot guy at the 1 hit point archer, just because he can.

0ND: “Now that you no longer need to worry about reproducing, feel free to experiment.” Reach down. Grab the archer’s hand. Put it on his ass. Then head back into the fray.
Fethwick: You ARE a troll!
0ND: I don’t like people.

Yogg accidentally hurls his greataxe into the distance, but recovers so smoothly by drawing his warhammer that it looks intentional. They continue to pummel the big guy… but seriously. 5th level, there’s not a crapton of strategic options and skill displays here. They start predicting that one of them will die and be replaced by this mysterious fifth character. Fethwick gets tricky with Psionic Grease to trip him up. It works!

DM: As Fenthick—
Fethwick: That’s not my name.
DM: Fethwick. Sorry.
0ND: As Cop-a-Squat stares!

The violence continues… and then 0ND has a revelation.

0ND: Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute. We have already won. We have already won. We are the last five… standing.
Fethwick: Yeah, if you want to get technical about it.
0ND: We have won! This contest is over, sir.
Yogg: What does Foulmouth say?

Violence continues! The guy attempts to rise, and everyone AAOs the holy hell out of him, but yet he somehow survives this onslaught. A huge argument erupts over the use of facing and flanking.

DM: The crowd around you thunderous in your ears as they are screaming and cheering! They came to see a bloodbath and they were not disappointed! “People of Emberstone! We have our victors! You five shall be granted an audience with the king. But tonight—“
Amarie: You’re going back to jail!
DM: “Tend your wounds, celebrate your victories—“
0ND: (who is uninjured) “I cannot obey his commands.”
DM: “Enjoy your victories. Celebrate for tomorrow!” As you all take your leave, you are met by Sarras Foulmouth, as he says to you, “Congratulations on your victory. I am not surprised by this outcome.”
0ND: “I appreciate your confidence in me sight unseen.”
DM: “Your sheer size alone… I assumed would have give you victory. Was I wrong?”
0ND: “Size is nothing. Groin stomps are everything.”

But have the PCs really won a victory? (Answer: yes.) Next time, they’ll meet the king, and see what will become of themselves…