Editing Luke (section)

=== The First Thread ===
'''Part the First: Walrus'''

The story of Luke, Plagueson of Nurgle continues.

I shall regale you now, with the tale of my people.

I first met Luke on the first night of University. We were the only ones not drinking that night, and he invited me to his room. My first mistake. His room was on the highest floor of the building (a fact that I would later grow to be grateful for in the extreme) and out of the way of the rest of us in the house, with the third year transfer students. We had been in the halls of residence for a scant 6 hours.
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His room was an absolute mess. Boxes overturned, clothes strewn everywhere, a hastily set up X Box on the side, a smelly bean bag and a camping chair. At the time, I was naïve enough to have not seen the way most people live and Luke was scrubbed clean and in ironed clothes, so I made the assumption that perhaps he had arrived late, or was just a little untidy. We played bad racing games for half an evening, before I got tired of crashing fast moving trucks into walls for points. We said our goodnights, and I went back to my room on the ground floor. 

So began my Luke experience, one which was to last for nearly 4 years.

Right from the word go, he was a bit of an outsider, tolerated mostly due to habitual British politeness and an unwillingness to “be a git.” At the time, we weren't even people who could be classed as true neckbeards – I played MtG, and one of our number played MtG and had a little experience of 3.5. Of course, as such things go, we all ended up getting involved in societies, and by the end of the first term, I was playing in two 3.5 homebrews and a Unisystem game (but those are entirely different stories.)
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Of course, we passed around what we knew – we all started to dabble in a bit of everything. Luke picked stuff up too, but it was obvious that he wasn't as quick as the rest of us but we were patient. We noticed two things here; the first that he would act as arrogant as he could in all situations (even the ones where he cast Terror on the Pit Trap. Twice.); the second, that whenever I lent him a deck, it would always come back strangely a little harder to shuffle…

It was at about this time that I started to teach the other members of our group the nuance of Warhammer 40k. As with everything else, Luke picked things up a little slower than the rest of us. This was offset, in part, by the fact that he apparently had the unlimited riches of his parents to call on. Up until this point, we had made light of the fact that he would regularly be seen with a big tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in his greasy, possibly hairy palms (another one for later, if I get that far,) but silently wondered how someone could afford to dine on such food with a student budget. Half a week after the rules were passed around and we played a few test games, he turned up in the kitchen with a full 2000 points marine army, complete with 1000 point Grey Knight, all metal model detachment for use in larger games. Here begins Case Study 1.
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'''Part the Second: Walrus''' 

''CASE STUDY 1: Being a case study of THAT GUY at work in 40k.''

We left Luke to his own devices assembling and painting his own army. As it turned out, his modelling left a lot to be desired (marine chests on upside down, grenades glues to bolters, that kind of thing) and his painting technique seemed to consist of dipping the models in emulsion then using a sharpie to draw eyes on the finished product. The beautifully painted “colour test” models turned out, after extreme questioning with a pair of clothes pegs, to be his sister’s work. If you’re out there, Luke’s Sister, I would gladly pay you to paint an army for me. 

We decided to run a test game. Luke’s Grey Knight Detachment and my Fists army versus 2000 points of Tyranids. We weren't bothered about strict rules, since I was the only vet at the table, so out of sportsmanship we allowed the ‘nid players to ignore their force organisation limits (big mistake, but I digress.) Fast forward to turn 4, and the Fists have managed to whittle down the huge ‘nid army to two squads of bottle caps (genestealers) two hive tyrants and a carnifex, with minimal losses in return. Luke’s Grey Knights have hidden behind the imperial ruins all game, and have refused to move. He is grinning like an idiot, beads of sweat pouring down his face. My earwax is starting to melt and leak out of my ears, such is the smell. The assault comes next turn, and my commander, dreadnought and remaining marine squads get into position to accept the charge, assuming we’ll be backed up by the Grey Knights.
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The charge comes, and miraculously, there are units standing at the end of it! My commander himself manages to fell one of the Hive Tyrants with his thunder hammer, whilst the carnifex smashes the dreadnought to bits. The marines on the flank manage to hold out against the other tyrant, barely. This is the point where the Knights charge in and save the day. We go to the movement phase. 

He moves the grey knights away from the combats. Silence falls over the table, and I give Luke the horrified look of the boned team mate. He grins, exposing his greenish grey teeth and melting my eyebrows with a halitose reply:

“I’ll let you die, and dhen run in and take all duh glory!”

((Author’s note – Luke quotes are correct, he cannot pronounce words with a ‘th’ at the beginning properly))

He passes his shooting phase, and so no genestealers die.

My mouth almost hits the table at the retardedness of this plan, but he’s adamant, and sticks to it. I charge the carnifex with my commander, am wiped out in the next combat, and go to hit my head against a wall. The next turn, the ‘nids move 12 inches and assault 6, easily getting all of his grey knights. He is wiped off the board in a turn, still grinning like an idiot. In later months, he will boast to people about the match he played where his 1000 point army almost beat a 4000 point nid army that wasn't using the force org chart.
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'''Part the Third: Walrus'''

Here endeth Case Study 1.

So, time passes and Luke finally gets his own decks – samurai, and the U/B Broodstar precon. He is hilariously bad at magic, managing to get into a board winning position and then do nothing except grin and threaten people he can’t attack with… uh… attacking if they don’t do what he wants. He then sulks whenever he doesn't win, which is all the time. Meanwhile, the status of my own decks is improving, although some of the ones that he used at the start have to be sleeved. As he grows more unkempt, and I can breathe alarmingly clearly when he is around, I begin to suspect that perhaps his crystallized sweat is what makes the cards sticky. These decks are sleeved, with the exception of one particularly sticky deck, which is incinerated.

Around this time, we decide to play a uni house game of 3.5. A DM is nominated and we start on the game. The game is hilariously bad, and full of DMPC, railroading and badly written “original fiction” from the DM, who based the entire campaign on his 218 page book-in-the-making. It’s another story altogether, but one I might rage about some time. For posterity Luke’s character background read like this:

“I am the leader of a small gong of thieves. We were hired to steal a jewel from the thing of the land. We was were in an inn when we were approached by a powerful stalker, who made us go.”

He played a CE rogue, in a party of neutral and good PCs, in a setting full of LG NPCs, whilst telling them that he was CE, and would love if they would help him stab the party up. He then sulked at everyone when he got imprisoned, shoved down holes for being obviously evil, used as a shield, etc.

Then, of course, he decided to run his own game. Case Study 2.
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CASE STUDY 2: Being a study of THAT GUY being the DM

So, as sceptical as we were, 3 of us rolled up 4th level characters and sat down at the table. This case study will be presented as a Blow-by-blow.

L: Ok, you’re on a ship.

P1: How did we get here, why are we here?

L: You just woke up on the ship. You’re going to another land.

P2: Uh, well… ok. I’ll have a look around. Is there anyone to talk to, or anything that looks vaguely important to look at?

L: There’s nothing important to look at, and you are locked in your cabin.

P1: Right, well, if the situation’s the same for me, I’ll use my open lock skill to try and pick the lock on my door open. [Roll: something like 25]

L: You can’t. It is magical, and breaks your lock picks.

P1: …

<Some time passes, with us trying to interact with the world and being told that we can’t.>

L: Suddenly, the ship starts to roll around, and you can hear lightning overhead. The doors swing open on your cabins.

P2: But wait… weren't the doors….

P1, P3: *shrug*

P2: Ok, anyway, we head up onto the deck. It’s been about 5 minutes since the doors swung open, right?

L: About that. Everyone seems to have abandoned the ship. The skies are dark; it’s a big storm! A huge wave, must be about 100 feet high, rises up to crash down onto the ship – make reflex saves!

<Saves turn up 5, 15 and a natural 20>

L: You all manage to leap out of the way.

…
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<We assume that a hole opened up in the 100ft high wave, which is why we all managed to not be hit by it, and why the ship didn’t sink. We manage to find our way to an obviously unsafe life raft, which sinks the moment we get away from the ship. We make our checks to swim, failing miserably, and are informed that we’re drowning.>

P3: … and that’s me unconscious too.

L: You all wake up; you’re in a cell, which looks like it’s made out of a cave.

P1: Wait, what?

L: It was all a dream, although you can’t tell how you got here. A man in full plate suddenly appears in front of you, laughing. “Haha, now that you are captured, the resistance has no chance to defeat me!”

P2: Uh… what resistance?

L: <ignoring> He then teleports away. What do you do?

P2: Well, I’ll try and pick the lock on the cell we’re being held in. <Rolls>

L: You can’t *bile-grin, once again, I notice the sweat, including the massive sweat patches under his arms.*

P1: Well, ok, I’ll try and kick the door out then.

L: On closer inspection, the cell is closed by a completely invisible, indestructible wall of force.

…

<And so we wait, until his DMPC turns up and dispels the wall of force somehow.>

P3: Gosh, we’re all really impressed. Who are you?

DMPC: *Blah blah blah leader of resistance blah blah, getting killed at dawn or something, different coloured eyes.*

P2: Great, so you can help us out of here.

DMPC: Yes, if you’ll help me. 

<At this point, Luke does an IC flirt with P2. The look on P2s face was priceless, and I’ll remember it until the end of time.>
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((For those who ask, he was taking the back door into becoming a doctor – he hadn't quite got the grades at school, so he was doing a chemistry degree and then a doctorate. Incidentally, if I ever find out he’s working near me, I’m signing up with Bupa, even if I have to remortgage my house.))

So, we eventually get out of the prison, and find our way to the armoury of the castle (!!) that we’re in. At this point, Luke takes great relish in describing all the magical armour in front of us, unguarded, and the guns (yes, guns, in 3.5 – he’d “homebrewed” them – 1d12+Dex damage, 17-20 x3 crit.) and the gunpowder. Doing what any sensible group of players would do in this situation, we took three guns each and tried to take the armour.

L: Uh, you can’t… it doesn't seem to move off the stand.

P3: No problem, I have 20 strength, We’ll take it with us!

So we set light to a trail of gunpowder and ran like buggery whilst the castle exploded. Cue a huge weepy scene from the DMPC that it won’t be enough to stop the BBEGs army of thousands (who reside in the one castle, that we blew up with them in it, for the record) from assaulting us in the morning. We get whisked away to a faggy tree village full of elves who sing and frolic while they try and get the guns off us. No dice, we threaten to shoot any elf who tries – for once, they get the message. However, in the morning, the armour has miraculously disappeared. The army is also attacking, so we rush down to see if we can help.

As it turns out, the army was attacking in groups of three, and the elves were not around at all. So, we lay into the army of three, defeating it easily with our guns of destruction. And then another group of three. And another. And Another. For an hour. As we’re getting bored, the BBEG turns up, along with a good 20 of his minions who surround us.
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L: And you won’t be able to kill him, because he’s a level 30 wizard in full plate! *sickly grin at everyone, because he’s obviously the greatest DM alive and deserves praise* 

P2: Fine, I shoot him then. Stuff it. <Rolls a 20. Then a 20. Then a 20>

P1: AHA! Instant death!

L: Uh, you shoot at him and just before the bullet hits he teleports away, shouting curses! His army breaks and runs.

…

P2: But wait… if we killed all those soldiers, and then him, doesn't that mean we get EXP from the encounter?

L: Y-essss…

P2: *Now frantically thumbing through a DMG* And since that’s X groups of level 5 soldiers, and one level 30 wizard… that’s enough to make us… Level 17!

P3: OH GOD WHAT *Falls off his chair*

L: At this point, you all wake up in a throne room. There's the wizard there laughing at you. “And that is why you must never be set free!” He laughs, before disappearing. You are in a force cage in the throne room, but there is a woman in the room that you recognize.

P1: Wait… no, I cba.

At this point, one of our friends, whom I shall refer to as Nairda (he’ll understand why) walked into the room. I, being player 1, promptly ripped my sheet in half, and offered him the bottom half. He graciously accepted, and roleplayed the combat legs of my character, whilst I took charge of the skills torso. The game was called 10 minutes later, when we had another dream sequence.

Here endeth Case Study 2.
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'''Part the Fourth: Walrus'''

Skipping forward about a year. We have moved out of the halls, and into rented accommodation. Due to British politeness and general apathy, Luke has managed to follow us into a house, shared with Nairda and myself. Of course, he demands the biggest room on account of something or other. I think the excuse this time was that he had once been a pro motocross racer, but had fallen off and broken his spine in 4 places (but it was ok, because he got better.) This was when, deprived of his weekly visits home, we began to appreciate the true strangeness of Luke. We never found evidence that he used the bathroom. 

As days turned into weeks we found increasingly that the windows had to be left open 24/7. At one point, as the weeks turned into a month, we noticed that a moss-like substance had actually started to grow on the one shirt that he had been wearing for the duration. His wealth was having a profound impact here as well, as the house began to fill with half eaten sandwiches, discarded chocolate bars and Luke’s Cup, which he always drank orange juice out of. It had not been cleaned since that first night when I met him. I kid you not. The thing was like the holy grail of aids. He drank everything out of that cup; squash, water, wine, beer, tea, you name it.
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Finally, after an extensive bout of rodent hunting, disposal and cleanup of the living space, we decided to actually do something about it. We broached the subject carefully, at one of our mass gatherings of a card gaming nature (Deck Status: Most decks fine after being hidden – Luke had decided to use a Golgari deck that I had left on my desk and it was rendered completely unshufflable. I lost about £30 of rare in that one due to the cards sticking together to produce Vulturous Overgrown Putrefy.) We started the discussion with a simple question: “What time do you guys have to get up to be ready for uni in a morning?”

L: Well, I normally get up quarter of an hour before the lesson (crap, as we lived 20 minutes away by bike), then brush my teeth (this got a snort) then shower – if I need to! *huge crap grin, causing most of us to lean back*

Nairda: Luke, you smell like a mixture of crap and cum, there is moss growing on your shirt. Get a shower and clean yourself up.

…he didn't know really how to take that. He mumbled an excuse, left the room and spent the next week playing Linkin Park really loudly so that we couldn't sleep. 

This brings me to the end of the first year of my Luke Experience. There are more tales, of which I may regale a couple if they're wanted. However, it is 3a.m. here, so my eloquence is sharply declining - be warned.
Continue? Y/N
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'''Part the Fifth: Walrus'''

Right, fine. Due to popular demand:

CASE STUDY THREE: Being a study of THAT GUY participating in Call of Cthulhu

Ok, so not long after the episode, most of us got into Lovecraftian horror in a big way. It was only natural that Nairda end up running a CoC campaign – he’s stupidly good at horror and suspense in games. So, with me as a bystander (CoC isn't really my thing, and I digress too much to be helpful to a good atmosphere) the game was set – to begin with, a premade module “The Fall of Paradise” or similar – I highly encourage you to get a copy of Carmina Burana and play through it, for the record.

Anyway, the game starts with the exploration of a haunted house. The game progresses smoothly, with a little sanity loss and Luke not saying much. The room is bearable – despite the balmy evening, Luke has recently returned from a weekend parent visit; he has been hosed down and his clothes have been replaced. He only smells mildly. The party returns to its homes at night (I won’t spoil the plot for you, in case you want to play it), and Luke’s character, having seen a particular painting, starts to have a vision.

N: You wake up, seemingly unable to move. There are a group of monks, wearing dark robes and white, plain masks at the foot of your bed. They start to approach you, silently.

L: Oh, ok.

N: … what? Is that how your character reacts?

L: Yes, dhis happens to me all duh time *Huge, cocky, Azathoth munching grin. We note that he seems to have escaped without having his teeth looked at – the gums are starting to turn black*

N: …
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So, we continue. Luke receives (and protests for 10 minutes) moderate sanity damage for being stroked by inquisitive monks from ancient Mesopotamia. The game is very, very successful, and runs for several more sessions. We eventually find the party (and Luke’s new character, the last having been dispatched by a giant demon spider god with a legspan the size of a cathedral because he annoyed Nairda enough) being chased by a demonic bloodhound of enormous size and ferocity. They are cornered in a house, and the dog is inside. The party splits up, with Luke following another THAT GUY as the rest of the party escape through the back door.

N: Ok, you two are still in the house, which is shaking. The light outside is fading, and the you can hear the growling and sniffing of the dog as it searches for you. What do you do?

THATGUY: I take a long drink from my hip flask, and then go to the toilet.

L: I follow him!

N: …uh… why?

L: I want to see if there’s a katana in there! *Huge retarded grin. A weaker member of the group has to leave the room.*

At this point, Nairda visibly facepalmed.

N: Ok, you both get to, uh, the toilet. There is no katana. What do you do?

TG: I take a long drink from my hip flask, and then use the toilet.

L: I watch, and wait.

N: OH GOD WHAT?! Er… fine. A small time passes. The beast is getting really close now.

TG: *zip* I take a long drink from my hip flask, and look for a way out.

N: Ok, there’s a fire escape not far from you – you could get down that if you could batter the door down.

L: I flush the toilet and go after him! *Obviously enjoying himself at this point*

<TG Rolls well on his strength check, and gets it open in two attempts. The dog is now very close, and gaining ground.>
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N: *Annoyed by both of them at this point* So, you’re racing down the stairs, you can feel the breath of the dog on your back, it’s that close. What do you do?

TG: I take a long drink from my hi-

N: IT’S JAWS CLAMP AROUND YOUR NECK BEFORE YOU GET THE CHANCE! WHY DID YOU DO SOMETHING SO RETARDED? YOU ARE DEAD! … and you, Luke?

L: Uh, I keep running.

N: Good choice. The dog seems to be busy with TG’s remains, so you can get away. You remember that the legend says that the dog can only kill one being per 
night, so you’re probably safe, for now. What do you do?

L: I will use my mobile phone to call the police. 

N: … ok. What do you want to say?

L: I say that I was, uh, just passing by this house, when I saw a brutally maimed dead body on the stairwell.

N: …What? Really?

L: Yes, and I’ll say that it doesn't have anything to do with me.

N: The operator asks you to wait there whilst the poli-

L: I hang up and run off.

P3: … you *do* know they’ll trace your phone, don’t you Luke?

L: They can’t, that technology doesn't exist.

P3: Uh, yes it does.

L: No it doesn't; my dad worked with the police on some murder cases, and they can’t trace mobile phones.

<<s>The Other Luke Sufferer</s> Sirk turns his laptop screen round to an entry on mobile phone tracking techniques used by the police>

L: …well *my* mobile phone is untraceable.

N: Riiiight. The police pick you up within the hour, and bundle you into a car.

L: No they don’t, it’s untraceable! 

N: *Awesomeface*

L: Fine, I get my gun out and shoot at them then!
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Needless to say, he died a bullet filled death as he got shot by trained policemen. He sulked for a while, and went to play some loud Linkin Park. It was 4 a.m. at this point, so we got an angry visit from the neighbours. Still, he didn't bother to reroll, which was a good thing – with only one THAT GUY in the game, it was a lot smoother… at least until the competent and awake party members got abducted – but that’s another story.

Come to think of it, that’s about the time that Luke started whooping in his sleep. A high pitched, whooping cough that may have been a sleep defect, but was more probably the sound of him loudly cracking one off to Dizzy from Guilty Gear, covered in shit. That revelation caused some IRL sanity loss, but again, another story for another case study.

Well, that’s me for tonight guys; there is a lot more of the Luke experience to recount, but my writing is going down the pan. Tomorrow, more Luke! Until then, hopefully our suffering has entertained you moderately. Thank you, eloquen/tg/entlemen, and goodnight.

Tl;dr: What are you even doing in this thread if you can’t be bothered to read it?

Also, general THAT GUY thread from now on. I’ll be back tomorrow.
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'''Part the Sixth: Sirk'''

*shrug* ... reminds me of another CoC game he joined, run by a third (that's right, a third) That Guy (this one is the pedophile I mentioned in the last thread - the pissing hip flask drinker is the catgirl player who tried to seduce PCs. Thankfully we ended up never having to see him again after halfway through second year outside of the MtG society at the Uni)

We were playing in a game where we had to stat ourselves - something that rarely ends well, but this time went pretty fairly. We all got a few little bonuses to stuff that we really didn't deserve, in my case to explosives because I happened to have read the anarchists cookbook once, and had a reputation for setting stuff on fire when bored. 

In Luke's case, he rolled something with an impossibly high fellowshippy-charismay-type score; and a Katana, and all kinds of crazy martial skills; because he 'was a black belt in three matial arts, and had the belt above black in another one, and kept a katana under his bed at all times'.
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iir he also had Knowledge(science) because he was a chemist, which somehow - because of his inability to even tangentially obey the rules - gave him a +2 synergy bonus to jump. 

... that's also reminded me of the time we started trolling him in character in another game, and convinced his character through judicious applications of illusions and magic that HE WAS THE CHOSEN ONE OF THE DRAGON GOD, and ended up getting him to lead suicidal charges on stuff. It was actually seeing the LegoRobot comic recently that brought all that back, and made us all wonder 'hey whatever happened to him...'

But yeah, I'm out too. Hopefully back tomorrow with a photo of him; and more epic tales from beyond the curtain.
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>Come to think of it, that’s about the time that Luke started whooping in his sleep. A high pitched, whooping cough that may have been a sleep defect, but was more probably the sound of him loudly cracking one off to Dizzy from Guilty Gear, covered in shit. That revelation caused some IRL sanity loss, but again, another story for another case study.

He loved the shitting dicknipples. I wish I exaggerated.
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'''Part the Seventh: Walrus'''

Luke was mostly unavoidable. In first year, he was in the same halls as the rest of our group. Second year, everyone in those halls split into two houses (except The Other Luke Sufferer who moved in with a third group), sadly this included Luke because he pulled an allmighty shitfit when he was told where to go - he ended up paying twice as much rent as the rest of them, so they all had to pay less which they thought waived it. Third year, Naidra moved out of that house for a work placement, and TOLS took over his contract - aside from Luke it was a damn good house; and the rent drop was pretty substantial. Luke almost pulled another shitfit however when he came back to discover TOLS had taken over the second biggest room, and ended up forcing the Luke suffering writefag above (who is about 6'8 and built to match) into a room that was approximately the same size as a double bed or he'd default on the contract and leave us in shit with the landlord. He also threatened to sue said landlord unless something was done about it. 

Luke also was in the same chemistry course as one of us, and thus followed him home; as well as attending all the same societies and social functions that the rest of us did. There really wasn't much we could do to avoid him.

The way we eventually got rid of him - as awful as it sounds - was to be rude enough to him till he got the point, and didn't ask him to join us in the house we moved into in year three even though we were (and made it clear we were) desperately looking for a last housemate to fill in.

'''''Thus ended the first thread, and thus began the second.'''''