The game opens with the microphone not reading quite right. Will this be a problem during the transcription? We’ll see!

Dusk: Whose game is it?
DM: I don’t run a game!
Dusk: Whose game is it?
DM: I don’t run a game!
Dusk: Whose shame is it?
DM: Yours!

The DM vows to bring calzone golems back. The group has begun a new all-player game, relying on the Emerald Spire superdungeon campaign for Pathfinder. Of course, one player decided not to show up anyway, but we went ahead and ran it anyway. The DM calls for Robot Roll-Call. She does not get it without a fight, and also eruptions of fire.

DM: You’re in a place called Fort Inevitable. It’s in the Southwood. Well, the town is called Southwood, but Fort Inevitable is the law holding, to use a Birthright term. The constabulary is the Hell Knights.

Module descriptions get read, giving strong implication to a local Lawful Evil vibe. You know. Hell Knights. They attempt to meet in an inn.

Galdor: Eat at Inedible Joe’s.
DM: The Jewel of Her Arms is the BEST inn in Fort Inevitable. You could always go to another DIVE, if you prefer.
Galdor: I can’t afford no fancy…
Bulgun: Which one has the best beer?
Ethus: Probably the dive.
Galdor: Why? Dwarves don’t like beer. Unless they have OUTRAGE-OUS ACCENTZ.
DM: Okay, since he wants beer, we’re going to the Helmed Lady.

Dusk insists he is NOT a Merry Man, in keeping with his chosen character voice. It at least has good beer.

Dusk: ‘My WHISTLE requires WHETTING.’
Billius: He goes up to the bar. (mimes dipping his lips in water, than blowing ineffectually) ‘Not wet enough!’
Dusk: It’s whetted! Whet! I scrape my lips on a whetstone.
Billius: ‘My pain is my strength.’
DM: So, Ausk. Will you be whetting your whistle too?
Ausk: Oh yeah.
Bulgun: I have no idea what that means, but I hope it means drinking more beer.
Ausk: I actually bought a whistle, I’m just dipping it in the drink.

Dusk and Ausk are both huge. Just not huge enough for some people’s tastes.

Ethus: You’re shorter than Shaq. I would never call HIM ‘gargantuan’. Talk to me when we get to Big Show heights.
Dusk: I rename myself Andre.

The DM explains that they are here because of the nearby Emerald Spire, a dungeon they seek to explore for various reasons. Billius bellows up to the bar, in his best gnome voice and absolutely hamming it up.

Billius: “Your best beer, please. Hold your half-pint, a full pint please!”
DM: “Are you sure you can handle it!”
Billius: “Aaaaaye, o’course I can.” I don’t know why I’m Irish all of a sudden.
Dusk: ‘It comes and goes.’

Galdor aggressively mocks Bulgun for his lack of dwarven accent, even as the latter cops to being bad at the accent. The dwarf proprietor rambles on about him reminding her of her sons, then for some reason takes note of Dusk.

DM: “How’s the weather up there?”
Dusk: “Insufficiently wet.”
DM: (miming plunking down a beer)
Dusk: Mage Hand it over… I don’t want to get up.
Galdor: (the most exasperated of sighs)
Billius: ‘I’m lazy.’
Galdor: Even half-orcs you play as rotten bastards!
Dusk: Because I had magic and didn’t want to get up? That’s a rotten bastard? You’d do it too in a second if you could – ‘oh, that beer’s way over there,’ woop woop woop woop – yeah, that makes me a rotten bastard!
DM: Yeah.

They aggressively try to catch Dusk on the weight limit, making him bemoan his persecution. They drag Ausk away from Cookie Clicker long enough for a sentence of roleplaying. Dusk buys Ausk a drink out of half-orc solidarity.

Dusk: I examine you for sacred tattoos or other insignia of the people.
Ausk: Um.
Dusk: You know, visible.

Dusk, a former slave, explains that he incorporated his brand into a sacred tattoo. Ethus tries to get a glass of elven wine; his character is overtly an asshole, causing Galdor to sigh in weariness. No one complains that Billius is ridiculously bombastic, though.

Ethus: “So then, what brings y’all here.”
Billius: “Fame and fortune and adventure.”
Ethus: “Me too. Sold my business – owned a few slaves and farmland. Sold it—
Galdor and DM: Oh god.
Ethus: “I’m out here, 40 gold to my name – I set ‘em free of course, no reason – they ain’t worth it. I paid them, but they had the title…”
Billius: “That is quite noble of you, to realize you were doing them wrong.”
Ethus: “I wouldn’t put it that way, it was just cheaper to let them go than go through the process of selling them… there’s a lot of steps involved…”

Billius walks right away, which fails to stop Ethus’s babbling. Galdor refuses to sit near the half-orcs.

Dusk: We’re an orc and a human over here, just not combined properly.
Galdor: ……..wait.
DM: They’re both half-orcs.
Galdor: Half orc, might as well be whole orc.

ICly at last, they begin discussing their plans and motivations for being present. ‘Sinister Chrome’ becomes a new Shadowrun villain for reasons that are, at best, poorly related to the game.

Dusk: I drop both hands heavily on the table and rise, the wood creaking under the weight. “You all must come with me to the ruins tomorrow. It has been proclaimed.”
Bulgun: “What the hell are you talking about?”
Dusk: “Know that time itself swirls around me like a shroud.
Ethus: Knowledge(arcana) would tell me what you are, right?
Dusk: I believe it is Knowledge(religion).
Ethus: I’ll take that untrained…
Billius: You can’t do it untrained.
Dusk: Uh-uh-uh! You didn’t have the magic skill! Uh-uh-uh!
Galdor: PLEASE!
Ethus: “Tell me, are you a worshipper of…” Feldemar? Pharasma?
Dusk: “I offer no prayers. I offer no worship. That which I am is mine. Where it comes from is beyond ken.”
Billius: “Well, giant dour one! I think a good time’s to be had. If you need a gun, I’m yours.”
Dusk: “Yes. I know.”
Ethus: You should have Profession(flourish) so you can swing your gun around. Like as tricks, when you’re doing stuff, and then when you fail, it falls.
Billius: That is part of my… as a gnome I can take Experimental Gunsmith, which means I have weird contraptions on my gun. Right now it has two barrels on top of each other…
Ethus: “Fortune and destiny! Sounds like an adventure! Am I invited to your little group, since I’m way over here…?”
Bulgun: “Can you like predict the future or something?”
Dusk: “The future comes to me in glimpses. But the future can be mine to change, though in only small ways. In this I am certain, as I am certain of little else.”
Ethus: “Oh man, you must be great at cards.”
Galdor: “What an unintentionally ironic statement. Oh great orcish lord, having seen the future, surely you must have seen me passing on your generous offer.”
Ethus: Your character just leaves. Slides over to another table, but doesn’t leave the bar.

The group makes a token effort to restrain Galdor from leaving the party, even as he condescendingly compliments the others as ‘amusing’ and ‘charming’.

Dusk: This from the guy who’s like, ‘Oh, you’re playing another jackass, ragh!’
Galdor: Your reaction is being provoked! I didn’t remember he was a half-orc.

Introductions begin making their rounds, as Ethus demands Dusk know everyone’s names before they’re introduced. Count of Prole becomes a universal inter-campaign title. Dusk and Ethus get into an argument over whether his size and weight would cause the chair to creak beneath him.

Billius: “Come, friend, we can have a friendly bout, see who does it better! Either the new firearms, or perhaps the classic or antiquicated – uh, antique – I can’t say that word, the classic bow and arrow!”
Ethus: “I see, friend, you’re having trouble with the common tongue as I am!”
Dusk: “I hope these ruins are vast and expansive. I feel crowded in this inn… with you lot and that one’s ego.” I’ll be staying on the outskirts. Not due to the orcs, but…
Dusk: Due to the orcs.

The DM passes Dusk a note, which Ausk insists to his dying breath is dickbutt. The transcriber either vows or predicts that the transcriptions will not be finished till the year 20XX.

Ethus: “So where shall we meet in the morning for adventure?”
Dusk: “We shall meet at the Gate Market. There is more to do.”
Galdor: Gate…?
Dusk: “The Gate Market.” ‘The Gape Market. Prepare your orifices.’
Galdor: “I’ll scout on ahead.”
Dusk: ‘Yes, your head will be the first to scout out the orifices.’
Galdor: No.

The game pauses for custard sandwiched between Oreos, which causes the discussion to go weird places.

Ethus: Oh my god, we shouldn’t see present-day Aiden. We should see past Aiden. He hit 88 feet per turn and he traveled through time. He comes from an alternate timeline where he lost.
Dusk: Maybe we’re in the timeline where he accidentally forked off a universe, so now we have to travel back in time to set right what once went wrong.
Ethus; Not only do that… if after he dies, he can outrun death. Death can only run at 87 feet per turn

Aiden becomes a time-traveling pimp. Dusk points out he has chains wound around his forearms.

Ethus: Can I roll for past slave-owner, be like, ‘Oh, I recognize those chains!’
Dusk: Yeah, you probably could.
Ethus: Did anybody else jump on the ex-slavery train with you?
Dusk: Sadly, no.
Ethus: I’m playing an ex-slave owner, I decided.
Galdor: Wow, we got a three-way hate triangle already.

The game gets distracted by mobile games. No one assassinates Galdor, to his apparent dismay. Dusk scathes the DM for her apparent disdain for his ex-slave background.

Galdor: But now we can unironically use the slave mini on the battle mat!

The DM tells them the gate they seek is the Mosswater Gate because it leads to the destroyed town of Mosswater. After a night’s rest the group convenes there, with the market already abuzz despite the early hour.

Dusk: I will eavesdrop on this talk. If I find any that is promising but does not continue to go the way I want it to, I will gently intervene.
Galdor: (stage-whispering) ‘Why is that half-orc listening to what we talk about?’
Ethus: “He seems to be doing that as of late, but anyway, I didn’t catch your name, friend.”
Galdor: “You did not catch it because I did not shoot it to you.

Galdor introduces himself and his name is promptly compared to COBRA! Some debate over the implementation of different elf types in Pathfnder results. Billius’s player offers him a four-fingered shake.

Dusk: Lost a finger from your experimenting, did you?
Billius: No, just a smaller hand.

Ethus in turn rambles on about his history and path, apparently having a lazy desire to save the world. Some skepticism towards Dusk results.

Ethus: “I could sit down and make an announcement, ‘We were meant to travel together!’”
DM: There’s a message board on one side of the market square, and also the rumor – the biggest rumor is that there have been attacks by a new type of undead, and it has a cleric of the Temple of the Golden Key concerned. One Sarisse Deraman.

Bulgun finds more sidequests on the message board, most of which point to the Spire in turn.

Bulgun: “Looks like someone is looking to hire people that are looking at the Emerald Spire. Look at this post here.”
Dusk: I observe this post.

Dusk’s extremely solemn and intense delivery makes everyone else crack up. Dusk looks for Magus’s theme for use for his inevitable fight with Ethus, then reconsiders.

Dusk: I decided his character does not deserve the full version… You’re not nowhere cool enough.
Ethus: Oh! I’m sorry! Did I not transform someone into a frog and decide to go off and summon Lavos because in my dumbass time I thought I could kill him?!
Dusk: Exactly.
Ethus: Magos is the greatest idiot of the Chrono Trigger universe!

Ethus appears to have accepted Chrono Cross as canon, Somehow he and Dusk do not launch into immediate physical violence, which is probably a great testament to the true depths of their friendship, constant bitter acrimony all apparently to the contrary. Ausk rounds everyone up to go to the Temple of the Golden Key.

Ausk: I guess I should have mentioned this? I’m wearing noble’s clothing, because why not.
Ethus: I have my old noble’s clothes in my pack. I’m wearing apprentice mage robes right now. My dude is clearly a rich kid who decided to be an adventurer, that’s my thing.
Dusk: I’m wearing robes, but it’s clear from my movements that I have armor on beneath it, since it slows me down.
Ethus: Oh, you’re playing an Ultima Online character. Under his cloak is female plate.

They head on to the temple, an ornate building to the south, and are greeted by the acolyte. Explaining they are here about the undead, they meet with a matron of the temple. Dusk gets his RP experience threatened.

Galdor: So DKP stands for… something something…
DM: Dragon Kill Points.
Billius: Donkey Kong Penis.
Dusk: I WANT -50 of that.

It inevitably dissolves into Donkey Kong Rapes The Mississippi references. The transcriber, by request, excises some redundant information – that’s your one good deed for 2018, folks.

DM: “It’s become clear that there is something within the Emerald Spire, because that seems to be where the undead are coming from. All I can tell you is that they are a type we have not encountered before, and they make raids on the city and try to drag off people.”

Even clerics have gone down and failed to return; Ethus calls them bad clerics, and gets a look in return. But he’s correctly predicted the arrival of their missing character.

DM: Yes, I’m going to make him the laughingstock of you guys by being a cleric who got dragged down there and couldn’t get out. You can omit that part.

YOU USED UP YOUR ONE. The missing player continues to be mocked. The Hell Knights report scrying spells that pierce their defenses, which information is passed on to them as the adventurous suckers who’re gonna get killed. Exhausting their information, they bid farewell.

Dusk: “We thank you for what you have given us.”
Bulgun: “Thank you!”
Dusk: “Yes. Like that.”
Galdor: Here’s a machine gun.

Galdor is tempted by Brak FuncoPops. No one stops him. They head off to meet the sage Abernard Roist, one of Bulgun’s sidequests, and knock on his door.

DM: “GO AWAY!”
Bulgun: “We saw that you got – um, needed some adventurers?”
DM: “WHAT?!”
Billius: He doesn’t care.
Galdor: Iglar 2.0…
Bulgun: “There was a posting on the board!”
DM: “Oh. Yes. THAT.” The door opens and you see a scrawny wild-haired old man with wild eyes. “Who are you?!”
Bulgun: “We are the adventurers!”

Assuring him they intend to go into the Spire, they try to pump him for information. He gives them a weird metal!

Galdor: Knowledge(the planes). Natural 20!
DM: It’s apparently made of the skymetal Noqual.
Galdor: “You want more of this?”
DM: “If you can find the rest of the piece that it’s from, I’ll give you 1,500 gold pieces.”
Bulgun: “You talk my language…”
Galdor: “Why is it worth so much?”
DM: “It’s RARE!”
Galdor: (a long pause) “Fair enough.”
DM: “It’s extremely rare!”
Galdor: It’s made of world-ending metal, who wouldn’t want it?
DM: Yeah!

He has a second request too – identify the spire’s origin. The sage disagrees with the common perception of it coming from Aslanti; he believes it to come from stranger places, and asks them for the best survey they can deliver. It gets weird.

DM: “When I was a younger man, laddy, I went exploring.”
Dusk: When he was a young warthooooog!
Billius: When I was a young wartHOOOOOOOOOOG!
Dusk: Very nice.
DM: You don’t get experience for that.

Madness descends. Dusk legitimately asks if he can have a dinosaur familiar, which results in rage. They review their quest journal: battle the undead, find mystery metal, map the place. Horrible stories are retold involving buffets. Nostalgic stories are retold involved Toys-R-Us. The group is weird, what can I say? Off the PCs head to check in with the Golden Fire of Thornkeep, who are apparently hanging out at the nice tavern.

Galdor: We went to a tavern?! I thought we were going to the ruins!
DM: Elarra Starcloak is the head of the Golden Fire Order, and she is there. She resignedly says to you that two of her wizards, Tiasmask and Jurne of Thornkeep went into the ruins to explore the Spire and try and research the portals that are underground. They haven’t returned. Because of course they haven’t.
Billius: “Oh NO!”

Another one for the quest list, which now consists of them hunting undead wizards in portals, while Ethus complains about his wannabe-lich cousin Kelthas. Satisfied with their information-gathering, the group at last decides to advance upon the Spire.

Dusk: Roll my massive shoulders, crack my neck—
Billius: And fall to the floor.
Dusk: I try to add a LITTLE flavor—
Billius: Of course you’re gonna get teased, what do you expect?
Dusk: (robot monotone) ‘I am normal PC. I have no special qualities.’
Billius: ‘Dear god, it’s a robot!’

Dusk again tries to roleplay, but is stymied by the aggressive giggling of the other players. The DM RPs for Ausk for some reason.

DM: As you emerge from the Echowood underbrush you find yourselves staring up at a ruined keep guarded by a broken central tower all made of smooth green glass. It’s obvious that a grand battle took place here many years ago and the clearing around the ruin lies barren with sickly weeds struggling to rise from the magic-blasted earth. Melted chunks of twisted glass pepper the ground, lending a green hue to the clearing’s light. Despite the damage, however, the glass of the keep seems to have avoided the ravages of time, with those pieces that survived the initial cataclysm unmarred by pitting and cracking, clean of moss and other clinging debris.

A path leads to the keep, though the stones are shattered. Seeing no easy way up, Billius attempts to scout.

Dusk: “Your studies in magic – they have granted you no bond with some bird or rat or somesuch?”
Billius: A 25 on my Perception.
Dusk: (being ignored by Ethus) I see, you can’t even hear the words of ex-slaves!

A long pause.

Ethus: …what?
DM: And he proves it right.

They find a concealed doorway, though the DM refuses to draw it out since they aren’t going to dive into combat and delving tonight. Their stealthy jaunt through the secret door finds them in a hall with several other doors, but no traps, the DM promises! That’s where they end the game, as the PCs prepare for the adventure ahead. The DM awards them 100XP for roleplay!