Free RPG Character Ideas

The Transactional Cleric: Worships whichever entity gives the best return on investment. Heal spell doesn’t work as intended? Time to move on to the next entity.

“He got himself kicked out of the temple.”

“Another one?”

“Yeah. He was being too loud, again.”

[20 min. earlier]

“This is a city FULL of entities that demand worship. You think I can’t go down the street and get this mace blessed? You think I can’t find a floating being who’s gonna want me to be able to explode TWICE the undead you’re offering? You’re fooling yourself. They ALL want a piece of me. I’ve run three cults, buddy. THREE CULTS. Those are SEPARATE cults, mind you… no rebranding with a new god and a new logo on the door, oh no. I get RESULTS. I get WORSHIPPERS. I DELIVER. And in exchange, I DEMAND SOME SERVICE!”


The Thief Who Destroys Wealth: Every gem taken: shattered. Every gold coin? Chucked in a lake. Catchphrase: “Money, like… isn’t even real!”

“What the heck happened to the coins? They’re all… chipped!”

“You-know-who got to them while we were sleeping last night, apparently. Said if we really needed something, we should just ask nicely and that people should give it to us, because we’re all people. They said something about ‘brotherhood’, I dunno. Looks like we’ve got to sell these for scrap ’cause no one’s going to take them in this shape.”


The Fighting Fitness Enthusiast: Gives frequent positive feedback to opponents in combat. Warns them about balance issues, over-exerting, importance of hydration.

[after getting punched in the nose]

“Nice! Nice one! You kept the fingers tight and the thumb safely tucked away. Next time, though, don’t forget to plant the lead foot, okay? Pivot and throw from the hip. Watch how I do it.”

[successfully lands a punch]

“You see that? Okay, I’m going to do it again, watch watch watch.”

[punches with the other hand instead]

“Okay! We’re doing good! How are you doing? Feeling loose? What did we learn? Don’t trust the person we’re fighting to be honest about what they’re going to do. Right? You got it! You got it! Okay, we’re really warmed up now. Let’s keep it going, keep that energy going.”


The Laziest Wizard: Only got into magic as a way to avoid actually working on anything. Only learns new spells that are easier/work faster/do more for less. Loves scrolls, potions… anything where someone else put the work in.

“Cast that spell? Really? Ugh… I can’t. I’m so busy all the time. Plus, the spell components are all the way over there.

[indicates a bench five paces away].


The Unbeliever Cleric: Despises superstition. Only trusts alchemy and lore. Hates it when their spells work.

“There must be a more rational explanation for why that happened. Likely this holy symbol contains some sort of element that they’re allergic to. Remind me to repeat the experiment the next time we come across more of the same.”

 

[Want to browse more of our characters, free to a good home?]

The Countdown

The countdown has started. In the communal flower garden in the center of the village, the blooms wither and fall to the ground as we call out the numbers together: 28! 27! 26!

We’ve never reached zero.

But many times we’ve awoken to ourselves, restrained by vines, in the park, the sun pleasant and warm, and we pass a pleasant afternoon there, content, and the good mood lasts for months, until we remember the countdown, and that we never finished it.

your cottage

About one in three cottages in this village have been the setting for something awful. Not sure about yours? Easy ways to check:

) Say brightly & clearly to yourself “I sure like living in a place where there’ve been no murders!” Then listen for giggling, perhaps from the eaves.

) Open every door. Make sure there’s not a door in the cottage that your eyes have been sliding over that’s actually locked, and warm to the touch.

) Does your kitchen’s tile have a fun pattern? Or is it a collection of dire sigils that form a P O R T A L ? If the latter, put a rug over ’em.

More later, once voices from the lost stop screaming at me from every wall.

a game

CHARACTER CLASS (1d20)
1-4 Poultry Wizard
5-8 Carpenter Ant Collective
9-12 Stain
13-16 Fighter
17-20 You don’t have to do this, you can just leave

RACE (1d20)
1-4 That last table could have used a d10, really
5-18 “Human” whatever that means
19 Roll again
20 Just, like, a noise. Blgh. That’s you.

WEAPONS (1d4)
No, that’s it. Your weapon is a d4.

Okay, um. Have fun!

just sayin’

Money can’t buy happiness.

Money can only buy copper-bottom cauldrons, the remains of an entire cave’s population of plague bats, accelerant, secret herbs from cursed cracks in the earth, recipes for plague bat extract, and a map of where your enemies refill their drinking flasks.

So.

veggies

“Eat your vegetables,” they say, and never say why. “Eat your vegetables,” they roar as we hide under furniture. EAT YOUR VEGETABLES and the very mountains shake, their deep roots cracking with the strength of growing, curling roots, a thick ichor pushing towards the sky.

Kickstarter: K0KK00N

It’s everything people like about a cocoon (you turn to mush, consciousness ends) but now it requires electricity to run!

Supporter Levels:
$100 – You can get in a K0KK00N
$500 – We’ll let whatever you become out of the K0KK00N

UNLOCK LEVELS
$1M – Everyone will be put in K0KK00Ns
$2M – They will never be opened and we will embrace the void as goop

Why did I watch Crank: High Voltage?

Death must be an illusion because otherwise, why would I be winding down a weekend and burning hours of my precious single life by watching Crank 2?

In the original CRANK, underrated comedic talent Jason Statham was a cranky person who had a heart problem… or something. I don’t remember a lot about it. Someone gave him a terrible heart? Somehow? And then said “Oh, if your heart stops you die” just like happens to every other person whose heart stops, so Mr. Cranky says his catchphrase “Time to get cranky!” and then he runs around L.A. getting into terrifying danger so his heart beats really fast.

It’s so intense the camera people shake the camera a lot.

At the end of the movie he falls out of the sky and hits the ground and is dead.

Anyway. Cue starting credits as we watch what I have to assume will be 2 hours of watching Mr. Cranky’s body get scraped up, brought to a morgue, interred, etc. etc. because where else can this beloved franchise go but an exploration of how Los Angeles civil service deals with human remains?


Among the many ways I’m an idiot:

I knew, sitting down, that this film was a masculinist cartoon. A dumb power fantasy. So my brain powered down as the film picks up seconds after the scene that ended the previous film: Mr. Cranky hitting pavement and dying.

But some people pick him up and operate on him and remove his heart– which was such an important part of CRANK– and put in a plastic one. Mr. Cranky weaves in and out of consciousness until our first bit of lad’s humor arrives and it’s revealed the next “organ” he’s to lose is his generative unit, at which point he remembers his only character traits are to grimace and murder, which he does.

So far, so… “good.”

There’s a yellow electrode box at his waist that’s probably running his new fake heart and as he sneaks out of his organ-harvest hospice, he finds the other rooms feature acts of prostitution, and he reaches in to steal some john’s clothes.

And at this point, my brain perks up again and objects. “How could he know that prostitute-hiring fellow wears pants his size? What are the odds?”

NOW you want to talk plausibility, brain? NOW?


Okay, this violence-cartoon just got its first unforced laugh out of me. Mr. Cranky (without even giving his trademark “It’s cranky time!” battle cry) goes into a house and the house starts spontaneously jettisoning stuntmen out windows and doors.

And some wag crew member from upstairs chucks a latex arm out the window. Then a fake head.

Fun with props.


This movie may be overstuffed with sexism and racism, but at least all the multicultural villains are able to talk to each other in their native languages and be understood. The guy with the MS13 face tattoos perfectly understands the triad guy’s Chinese.

They’re all terrible stereotypes, but they /communicate/.


This is probably the film that America should put on the next Voyager mission to represent our decadent, failing culture.

Mr. Cranky just got into a gun fight with gang members in a strip club. These gang members were established as being in a back room, so presumably own/run the club.

And yet, as soon as bullets start flying, and with no explanation given (or perhaps required), one of the pole dancers appears on screen with a gun in her hand, shooting at the gang members.

Why does she have a gun? Why is she shooting at the criminal element that, presumably, employs her?

Why any of this, actually?


The last pre-credits image of the film is Mr. Cranky, on fire, flipping off the audience directly. Just in case you couldn’t read the not-at-all-subtext of the rest of the film.

Dude, we got it. You weren’t subtle.

All that remains is for a chemical spill to help this franchise become flesh, to rise as a towering embodiment of contempt, to crush the country beneath its heel so that nothing ever grows here again.

Published
Categorized as Webloggery

SO YOU’VE BEEN HAINTED…

Has this ever happened to you?

Time and again you find yourself pulled from sleep’s embrace by the crushing weight of a cackling spectral crone who’s crouching on your chest?

If so, follow our very simple program:

1) Realize that sleep is just lost time. You weren’t accomplishing anything anyway. Be grateful you’re awake again.

2) Truly value the contributions of crones. If not for them, who would take on these valuable chest-crushing responsibilities? Spookums? As if!

3) Thank your crone with nice smoke offerings, and some lentils left behind your stove (uncooked).

It’s that easy!

PAID FOR BY THE LENTIL COUNCIL

scholars

A library, several blocks in size. After an arduous application process that includes two in-person interviews you get a membership card.

Every book you pull off of the shelves consists of nothing but crowing at how easy it is to create a library. The materials are cheap and the more exclusive you make it seem, the harder fools will try to get access.

At quiet tables, readers with their heads in their hands, finding every book a testament to their folly, unwilling to leave.