[1]
The accommodation ray is wearing off. You can feel the new skin
membrane between your arms and legs getting thinner by the second;
you will soon lose the ability to glide. You're at the top of a one
hundred foot tree on the alien planet, and night is falling. You're
over a mile away from your outpost, and on this planet the night gets
so cold as to crystallize the trees here solid. Only through
evolution have they survived this process each night. To a cold
blooded reptiliod from a warm desert planet like yourself? Not a chance.
[2]
The Undead are breaking through the windows. Gunshots ring out. The
glass is cutting into your wrists, but you know the living are right
on the other side. Just behind you in the midst of your hoard you can
feel your undead queen; she's deeply pregnant with her next brood.
You want to eat flesh, but giving the brains of your next victim to
her will ensure her progny can read the chalk markings on the walls
the survivors lead, they may learn to open doors and use firearms
too. They are the next generation of the living dead. Fight and feed
your queen.
[3]
The Black-Iron Castle has been lost for centuries, and you are on its
peak. You and your fellow treasure hunters are pinned down by a
gattling gun fired from the blackhawk helicopter- the rival
mercenaries seeking to take the castle's loot before you do. On the
top of the castle is an iron ballista; it was good enough to kill
dragon's in the middle ages, but can it pierce the metal skin of a
blackhawk? You see three harpoons left; make them count.
[4]
You're all on the back of an elephant, hunting religious extremists
in rural India. You wade through 8 ft high grass, and see the
rustling of movement below. You clutch your spear close; those shapes
are too low to the ground and heavy to be humans. It can only mean
one thing; Tigers. Man-Eaters.
[5]
You are all men in your late teenage years. You are in a muddy
trench, up to your knees in bloody mud shit-water. You hold identical
rifles with silver runes on the side; you can only hope they are
enchanted enough to harm your foes. You hear the sound of a machine
roaring, and the screams of the innocent people trapped inside its
broiler to power the infernal device. The tank is about to roll over
your position- you can stay and be entombed, or go over and face the
machine gun fire.
[6]
Get every player around the table to say one “The Animal goes X”
based on its sound. Cow goes moo, duck goes quack, cat goes meow, and
so on. Once that is finished, everybody plays as the animal they
impersonated wearing a cheap tie- all of you are on stage in front of
a hundred microphones each; a flurry of questions are coming your
way. Which one of you will win the election and become the next
President of the United States?
[7]
Select one player at random. They are currently holding a baby over
the still water basin at the baptism. Tentacles slide from its fake
skin and wrap around their arms and hands. The windows outside the
church shift and show the sky as though a million miles from Earth.
The civil war veterans in their chairs start to jump up and gyrate,
calling upon their outsider god to devour your essence. You roll your
eyes- this is the third time this has happened this year. Each player
must roll to see how quickly they can pull out their Edison-Tech Volt
Guns and vaporize these star spawn.
[8]
Select one player at random. Their character's tongue is deep inside
the mouth of a heavyset 6'3 fat guy wearing bright yellow spandex.
They're the girlfriend character cheating on their “lover”, a
separate wrestler, who is just now coming onto the stage. The other
players are the girl's family members watching her performance up on
stage. The twist is all of them know this is just an act, wrestling
is just a reality show masquerading as a sport after all, but the
wrestlers do not
know that, and in fact they think it's very real. The spurned
simpleton boyfriend is frothing at the mouth in rage, and he looks
about ready to kill everyone up on that ring.
[9]
Select one player at random. Their character just drank down a shot
of the special purple ghost-liquor, which inflicts drunkenness
instantly. Beyond flopping around in their chair, another character
get slid a note from some faceless flapper in the crowd. Reading it
makes their blood freeze; somebody in the speakeasy knows the party
are federal agents.
[10]
All of you are elves. You each carry a dying willow branch; you're
hundreds of miles from the nearest sacred tree, much less entire
grove, that could heal your injuries. Each player rolls a 1d6 to
determine where and how severe they have a wound- 6 means the head
and you're stumbling around. You each carry 2d4 White Arrows, after
which you will be defenseless. All of you dying, and just as you
cross over a red desert ridge you see an orc patrol headed your
direction.
[11]
All of you just died. You were on a bus headed to Toronto, and it had
fallen off a bridge into the arctic ice. All of you are still
freezing cold and scratched up, since you have no yet been given
bodies by the Lord God himself to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. You
stand before Saint Peter, holder to the keys of the kingdom- who
checks his records. Turns out, all of you got mixed up with a bus
full of cartel members guilty of horrible crimes. You're destined for
hell. You see the smug cartel guys just behind you in line, giddy to
get let in the pearly gates.
[12]
You're all working at the Twinkie factory. Each player has a
different job- there is a line worker filling pastries with custard,
an accountant walking past with a clipboard, a janitor, an engineer
fixing a machine. Each of you lock eyes for a moment- you know the
Worker's Revolution begins now. The DM will describe the surroundings
around each character round robin style, detailing the possible
weapons. The Line-Worker has a pastry filler that could fill a
punctured lung with white cream; the janitor has access to chemicals
that could burn off a face; etc. As soon as one is used, all hell
breaks loose.
[13]
You're all tweakers in a seedy apartment complex. Each of you is
addicted to a different drug; when you're on your drug, you get super
human abilities in that aspect. The adderal pill-popper can think
through complex math and technical problems in seconds, the cocaine
addict moves hyper fast, the heroine junkie can ignore pain and tank
blows, etc. You just shot and killed your dealer, and each gains
1d4+1 doses of your favorite drug. After you each roll your new
finds, you hear a groan as he starts getting up, the aching hole in
his head where you can see through his brain not slowing him down in
the slightest.
[14]
Each player picks their favorite color. If two players have the same
favorite color, get specific with the shades and tones of the color
so each has a distinct one. Then, each player-character finds
themselves trapped in a box of that color, they are all ghosts
trapped in paintings of solid color of their favorite color- the
anchor that binds you to his realm. Each one feels what the painting
feels. The last guests trickle in at 10 minutes until closing and all
of you know that the fire that's about to engulf this place tonight
will rend your souls to ash.
[15]
Everybody is lost up in the mountains, climbing on slippery footfalls
and precarious ledges. Each character is holding one ancient
Mesopotamian artifact, which buzz with ancient energies. The first
one to get broken will bring the wrath of that God upon the party- a
swarm of locusts or blood drinking bats, an eclipse to hide your
path, fires rising from the Earth, such punishments will befall you
depending on which God is broken. The other God statues can be sated
to give their protection from the curses or to bypass gaps too big to
jump safely, but only by giving up 1d6 hit points worth of blood.
Everyone in the party is a healthy adult with 2d6 hit points. Good
luck.
[16]
You're all lost in a hedge maze. Each of you holds a small remote
control with a big red button, all identical. Pressing the buttons
makes some walls sink, some walls rise, some make mechanical clicks
that activate or turn off the traps around the place. You know what
each one of yours does- you've experimented with them and know about
the 30 second delay between each remote working to allow another one
to be pressed. It's just then you hear the Minotaur coming. You trip
and fall on each other, and your remotes all end up in an identical
pile at your feet, scrambled together.
[17]
The fire snaps at your heels. Each player rolls a 1d8 to determine
what floor of the hotel they are on. Everyone above the first floor
must try to get to a clear stairway, go to the roof to wait for
rescue, or jump out a window to get safe. Each player also rolls a
1d8 to determine how powerful their psionic abilities are; with an 8
being able to beat back the fire for a moment, and a 1 only giving
vague hints of future events not relevant to this situation. Everyone
with a psychic power rating of at least 4 can communicate with each
other. The faces in the fires snap and cackle at you, jumping from
furniture to carpet to door, trying to cut off your escape routes.
[18]
Each player takes control of a single girl in the sultan's grand
harem. You have weapons stowed away in the rare occasions they are
necessary; one has a shiv, the other a blackjack, the third a poison
berry, the fourth a wand with one charge, the fifth a hidden
mini-crossbow with a single bolt, etc. One night while preparing to
kill the brutish sultan, you hear a window of the palace get knocked
open. The guard in the room is dead. Somebody else is creeping
through the halls.
[19]
You're a group of hikers in the woods. You hear the cube before you
see it, the dull hum like a jet engine through one hundred thousand
layers of fabric. The muffled noise can be heard clearer when you
step to the edge of the pond. Each character sees it as a different
color. It's slowly spinning in place, and when the angles are right
in all directions the cube stops rotating and starts moving towards
the shoreline. The side of it closest to you all starts to open up.
[20]
You're all detectives. Roll up your characters be deciding what
donuts you eat from an assorted box. You're investigating a murder
scene when the corpse's dismembered head starts rolling on the
ground. Before any of you can react, it rolls down the stairs into
the dark basement.