Dr.Bedlam

House Frogwarts
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Dr.Bedlam last won the day on April 16

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About Dr.Bedlam

  • Rank
    Action Scientist
  • Birthday October 6

Contact Methods

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    Doctorbedlam@hotmail.com

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    his top secret Lab-Matory hidden under the gift shop at Buffalo Bill's gravesite
  • Interests
    Miniatures painting and modifications, general gaming, psychology, education, medieval metaphysics. My greatest joy in life is knowing that somewhere out there, I have made someone snark their drink all over the monitor.

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  1. I have recently discovered the joys of Rick & Morty as of late.
  2. Our hero's second mission was to infiltrate Sienar Fleet Systems on the cavern world of Insoor; his clients wanted information about the mysterious contents of Hangar 13, apparently a big leap forward in TIE fighter design. His mission? Obtain the ship specs, copy its onboard computer and flight records, and destroy the prototype. Easy enough. He very much enjoyed the idea of blowing something up. To make a long story short, he got in, after several nervewracking incidents. He had to move fast, because a patrol checked the hangar every fifteen minutes. And upon entering the hangar proper... ... a battle damaged TIE Advanced. And its logs indicated arrival recently from someplace called Yavin IV. ".... is this Darth Vader's ship?" "Well, it's not like DARF VADUR WAZ HEER is written anywhere in the cockpit. Why, do you look in the glove box, check the name on the registration and insurance?" "SERIOUSLY, is this DARTH VADER'S ship?" "I decline to answer. What do YOU do?" "I keep downloading the flight logs, and I look at the exocomp's screen and read it." "You have the complete schematics and flight data; your client will be pleased. Logs indicate this ship was loaded aboard (REDACTED) nine weeks ago, and saw combat at someplace called Yavin IV, where the hyperdrive was activated, and its next stop was HERE, three weeks ago." "So REDACTED is ... the Death Star." "I never said that." "It had to be. And that means... I'm somewhere between... A New Hope and Empire Strikes Back. I'm... I'm part of the Star Wars Universe.... and I sat in the cockpit of Darth Vader's TIE fighter..." he said, with something approaching reverence. I let him bask for a moment before I asked him if he was keeping track of time. "Oh, crap, how LONG has it been? I have to get OUT of here!" "Chronometer indicates fifteen seconds to next patrol." He leaped out of the TIE, taking the comp with him, and pelted to the exit door at a dead run. And the door opened... and he peeked out to see if anyone was in the hall... and WAAAAY down the hallway: And he closed the door, and took a moment to say "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" He was quick, though; he promptly jacked the exocomp into the door lock, and rather cleverly ordered the door lock to change to a random eight digit PIN number every ten seconds. That would give him time to think. Were there any exits OTHER than this one? Urrgh. Only the hangar exit. He told the comp to open the hangar doors; perhaps he could slip away on the airfield... The door opened. He'd forgotten that he was subsurface on a cavern world. The hangar opened some fifty stories up from the cavern floor. "Uh..." he said. And with a hiss and a thump, two feet of glowing red blade suddenly stabbed through the personnel door. "AAAAAAAAH!!!" And as Vader began to saw a hole in the door, our hero realized there was only one way out. He climbed into the TIE and began running a preflight check... (Our hero was never QUITE in the danger he thought he was; Vader wanted him alive, but he didn't know that. The two TIE pilots dispatched to chase him down afterwards were under orders NOT to damage Vader's personal ship any more than it had already been damaged, but he didn't know that, either... He did have a VERY bad moment when he realized he was carrying a satchel charge WITH HIM on a ship THAT THE BAD GUYS WERE SHOOTING AT... although the bomb wouldn't actually detonate unless triggered by its particular detonator. Shooting it with a blaster wouldn't explode it. But HE didn't know that. He wound up evading the fighters, landing it in a public park, and setting the bomb on a thirty second delay, and then running like mad into the nearest crowd.) "Wow. Is Dungeons and Dragons this... stressful? Maybe I'll try THAT next week..."
  3. Last year, I made a deal with a student: If he could achieve (goal), I would allow him to make a request of me for free time/recess/whatever. At the time, Flash D&D sessions were popular with some of the special needs kids, and I expected the request to be something like this. The kid achieved... and asked, "Is there anything like D&D... but with Star Wars instead of Lord Of The Rings?" "You mean, is there a Star Wars Roleplaying Game?" "Yeah... is there such a thing?" Well, yeah. I still have my vintage SWRPG hardbacks by West End. So I facilitated it. He took a character template, the Tongue Tied Engineer, customized it, and promptly accepted a mission from the Rebel Alliance to infiltrate a museum on a world recently taken over by the Empire, and steal an Unquin Battlesuit, and hand it over to his clients... payment on delivery. He was rather taken aback to discover that there was such a thing as Star Wars dungeon tiles. He was even more taken aback to discover that there were miniatures. And he was utterly flabbergasted when he slipped in under cover of night, evaded the stormtrooper patrols, and discovered that an Unquin Battlesuit, rather than an Iron Man type suit, was actually a sort of mini-Mecha standing some fifteen feet tall. The burlap bag he'd brought to carry the armor in was quite insufficient; he was going to have to figure out how to DRIVE the thing out into the courtyard. So he put it on, and began frantically rolling dice, trying to figure out how to control a fifteen foot tall humanoid battle tank programmed in an alien programming language, and whose computer had a rather tenuous grasp of the player's language. Obviously, he couldn't get back out through the air vents, and it wouldn't FIT in the elevator. There was the loading dock door where the thing was brought IN, but he couldn't figure out how to open it from the inside. He made the mistake of telling the battlesuit, "Open the door." He discovered that the quad-shoulder-mounted forward hammerguns opened the door very nicely, set off every alarm in the building, and drained the suit's power by 12%. He also discovered that the suit's maximum speed was roughly a brisk walking pace. Meanwhile, the security station in the lobby routed every stormtrooper in the place to the rear loading dock, and informed a certain Imperial Operative nearby that a highly sensitive piece of alien technology was being stolen. When our hero got into the rear storage room, almost home free, he found himself confronted with twenty stormtroopers and a creepy blackclad hoodie guy wielding a red lightsaber. He promptly panicked and let go with the hammerguns again. Stormtroopers flying everywhere. The Inquisitor, as our hapless hero named him, starts doing Wuxia leaps all over the room as our hero tromps around in a little circle, trying to blast him. Meanwhile, outside, R2-D0 has landed the ship and is opening the museum's loading dock door, oblivious to what's happening inside. Seeing this, our hero begins walking BACKWARDS, towards the loading dock, while furiously trying to blast the Inquisitor, and failing, although he does a fine job of reducing much of the first floor to rubble, and generally destabilizing the rear half of the building. And then he falls backwards off the loading dock. BOOM. Flat on his back. And the Inquisitor leaps out after him, into the night, and plunges his lightsaber into the battlesuit's midsection. Our hero looks down, inside the suit, and sees the red glowy blade roughly three inches below his crotch. "AAAAAH! HOW DO I SHOOT HIM?" "You can't. Your weapons are designed to target and shoot at range, not hand to hand distance." "HOW DO I HAND TO HAND HIM? NO, wait, I GET UP!" "And precisely what do you tell the suit to do? Be precise in your wording." Meanwhile, the Inquisitor begins sawing upwards with his lightsaber. Our hero doesn't quite start crying. He realizes that he has no idea how to phrase the command in such a way that the suit will understand him before the blade reaches the soft chewy center. "I USE THE SUIT'S ARMS AND BEGIN SMACKING MY OWN TORSO!" Success. He clips the Inquisitor hard enough to do damage, and the opponent withdraws, taking his red blade with him. However, our hero is still helpless, flat on his back, can't aim the guns anywhere but up, and can't get to his feet. The Inquisitor stands safely out of arm's reach, watching the flailing battlesuit, as if gauging where to poke it with a saber in order to disable it, or perhaps merely skewer the pilot. "AAAAAAAAH! WHAT DO I DO?" "Excellent question. What DO you do?" "Well... um... what have I got to work with?" "Your blaster, your exo-comp, your comlink with R2, a burlap bag, and an Unquin Battlesuit." And then, it finally hit the poor little guy. "Wait a minute... can the exocomp tell me what systems this suit has?" "Of course. It was doing just that when you decided to climb into the cockpit. Readout indicates left and right quad mount hammerguns, twin blaster mounts on the head, rotatable for forward, upward, and rear arcs of fire, the rocket booster system--" "I FIRE THE ROCKET BOOSTERS!!!!" And he abruptly rocketed backwards into the courtyard, forcing the Inquisitor to leap aside to avoid being run down. The suit roared into the loading ramp of his ship, narrowly missed R2, and began bouncing around in the cargo bay, still at full thrust. "R2, CLOSE THE CARGO BAY DOOR AND TAAAAKE OOOFFFFF! And I cut power to the rockets!" And the ship roared into the sky as the surviving stormtroopers staggered out of the collapsing museum and the Inquisitor waved his lightsaber angrily at our retreating heroes...
  4. Murphy's Rules has a cartoon about the number of combatants in a war who will accidentally dismember themselves, due to Runequest's old fumble charts. I've answered this question before, and again, I've probably forgotten more hilarious stories than I remember. *The British secret agent in a game of James Bond 007 who, after using the ejector seat to escape from a carload of mooks, spent a hero point to hang onto his bottle of Scotch because one of his quirks was Alcoholism... *The newbie player who wanted to purchase an Escape Goat in the marketplace, having heard of such a thing and deciding it might be handy. *The barbarian who, for honor's sake, had to act as the halfling's mount, in satisfaction of an ill conceived bar bet. *Another game of 007 in which, due to lack of leads, the heroes decided to simply hit every casino in town, since that seemed to be how James Bond usually first encountered the Big Bad. Never occurred to us we'd have to explain some of those expense vouchers to M afterwards. *The GURPS Space Hero who decided he'd simply die before surrendering, and due to utterly insane, uncheatable die rolls, successfully massacred some forty mooks without injury, as the mooks were trying to take him alive. *A game of Top Secret that went horribly wrong, resulting in the accidental destruction of Australia. *A variety of antics involving polymorphs. *A convention game of Battletech in which a lowly Locust, again due to dice rolls, slaughtered several far larger and better armed Mechs and left MANY mouths hanging open. "It's the Locust from Hell." *The attempts to repurpose a Daern's Instant Fortress into a battering ram, and on one occasion, a catapult. *The warrior's realization that while a Ring Of Fire Resistance does, indeed, protect you and your stuff from fire, it does NOT replenish the oxygen in the air in an enclosed space. *"Ogre Golf." *An occasion in which the Warrior, a veteran of computer games, assumed that a piece of window dressing was in fact a vital plot point, and wound up accidentally killing a king's courier, thus becoming a wanted outlaw. *...and the infamous time the Tank noted that Orcs are one hit die creatures, and his AC was -1, therefore the orcs could not hit him, and decided to tackle an army of them singlehanded. And then became quite incensed when they simply trampled him. Yes, many died in the process; that's what HAPPENS in a mob rush stampede, but he argued quite bitterly that a creature that CANNOT hit AC -1 could not hit, trample, or touch him in any way, a sentiment with which the DM disagreed... ghod, I remember THAT one like it was yesterday.
  5. Brussels sprouts. Cannot stand the dratted things, and after biennially having to try the things for 18 years, I am DONE.
  6. Skunks. I once had a very, VERY bad night involving a skunk. To this day, the sight of them makes my blood run cold.
  7. MST WAS a must watch when it was airing. Used to watch Walking Dead until it became pretty much torture porn...
  8. This is disturbing. Most of the local shops in the Denver area seem to carry mostly Bones, but the metals are still available, even the new stuff. Maybe the distributors are getting sticky?
  9. I'm all for it; that being said, I'd like to see any sort of improvement to facilities that the school boards could AGREE on, other than more and better sports stadiums and equipment.
  10. Better practice than I anticipated. The detail is THERE, but it's so light that the mantra "Thin your paints!" is an ironclad necessity!
  11. You're a first year teacher, this close to the beginning of the school year, and you had time to do THAT? What, did you give up sleep for Lent, or something?
  12. Exactly what it says on the can: REDNECK WARBAND, with vehicle. And very well done! Suitable for zombie skirmish or Dukes Of Hazzard Gone Bad, whatever your fancy. Nice! Now you make me want to find a pickup in that scale...
  13. I'm a lousy photographer, but I notice there are eye details within the circles of his glasses. You'd not have known this from the painted figure, due to that awful thick factory paint. That, and they seemed to think metallic enamels were the way to go for their main colors, and metallic BLACK is... well... gray. I think I can do better. Is it as good as a Reaper? No. Is it as detailed as a Reaper Bones? No. What it IS is cheap Harry Potter, perfectly good practice for fine details, neat stocking stuffers for friends, and handy cheap rewards that my students will cheerfully stab each other to obtain. And if they'll do that, perhaps they'll give me a week of relative peace and quiet instead... And why didn't I realize that someone was going to make a bad joke about figs? Yeesh. You're AWARE that the figures include the three main characters from Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, yes? Including Newt Scamander? (seen at far right in the picture in the first post) Whose first name is presumably Newton? Which makes him... ...a FIG NEWTON? Hurl your rotten tomatoes; it's YOUR monitor.
  14. There's this. I COULD have gotten a perfectly good bottle of rum, but... I got THIS. ...I have a problem ... I need help...
  15. They strip nicely with acetone, and yeah, that factory paint job obscures a LOT of detail. Now, thanks to Mad Jack, I cannot unsee Supergirl's freakishly long legs. Hadn't even NOTICED until he brought it up...