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This is a story from Dark Heresy, a Warhammer 40,000 pen and paper in which you play acolytes in Holy Inquisition. You are in search of heretics, witches/demons, and Xenos (aliens). For those who don't know the 4oK lore, very well, the humans of the Imperium know very, very little about the great evils they face, and the common man is kept even more profoundly ignorant than those who are in charge. The characters you play in Dark Heresy are barely better than the common man, at first. You grow into something approximating a "hero" much later. Suspicion and ignorance are part of the territory and can be hard for a player with vast knowledge of the lore to make work in terms of a character who is utterly ignorant and superstitious. But, this party played it flawlessly

So, I'm GMing a table with 4 brand new characters. They've made it through several sessions and are coming to the end of their first adventure. They're in an elevator climbing through the core of a space station to reach the bridge, where their final confrontation will take place with the leader of a blood cult and his lieutenants. Everyone is checking their ammo and readying their melee weapons for what is sure to be an epic firefight, when something strange starts to happen. The Psyker of the group, essentially the magic user, who gets his power from the Warp, where the evil also lives decides to use one of his powers to up his senses, just a bit, so as to get a slight edge in shooting when the combat starts. But in DH, every single usage of psyker powers has a chance to go terrifically awry. He rolls secretly with me, and hits trouble. Now, it's only very minor trouble. Nothing terrible even happens, but it starts to get cold and walls seem to warp, just a bit, and the psyker's eyes roll back in his head. Naturally, the other characters notice this. In true, ignorant grunt fashion, the Imperial Guardsman screams "They've taken over his mind!" And points his rifle at the psyker. That's when it goes horribly wrong. The religious zealot of a Cleric opens up his flamethrower. In an elevator. And to make matters knee-slappingly worse, somehow, they had let the psyker carry all the grenades, in a satchel. I roll the dice on the approriate chart and BOOM! The entire party gets gibbed in a series of explosions. The elevator reaches the top. The pitted, warped doors open, allowing the cultists to look into a box covered walls, floor, and ceiling in idiot viscera. Total party wipe

 

LOCKED! Entries forthcoming!