You Can't Make This Stuff Up! Dungeons and Dragons Players Share Their Unique Experiences With The Game

Dungeons and Dragons is a uniquely fun game. Each player creates their own character and plays through a campaign controlled entirely by the combined forces of the Dungeon Master (DM) and the 20-sided dice roll. 

Since the game takes place entirely in your imagination, some incredible things can happen. Here are just a few examples from around the internet (And my own experience) that showcase just how much fun it can be.

Source at the end of the article

We had a snow day in college and my friend convinced me to play D&D.; I was sort of half into it. The DM gave me a pre-set character for the easy mode.

So the DM sends us all a quick message telling us to meet in the dorm common room with drinks and snacks, in one hour. He tells the other guys, "I made a fighter for the new guy. Come with a new character for yourselves - NO BARDS they're annoying" 

One hour later, one of the guys shows up in a renaissance fair costume with a guitar and proudly presents his Bard halfling. He literally freestyles bard songs about everything that was happening. THE DM WAS LIVID.

The DM immediately says, "This is a one-off campaign. If you die that's it, you're out."

In the first encounter, the DM brings up a goblin with a single-shot staff that deals 10,000 damage. The Bard rolls high initiative and goes first. He knows this goblin is here for him. He says he's holding his turn. Someone else swings at the goblin and misses. It's the goblin's turn. 

The Goblin goes to fire at the Bard. The Bard uses a spell to switch places with someone - my fighter. It kills me.

I wasn't too invested in the game anyway so I laugh, say thanks, and leave. The Bard sings me out. Half way down the hall back to my room I hear the DM start yelling.


During a jailbreak, my half-orc threw a locked evidence chest at a guard with the intent on knocking him out. 

But the Dice had other plans. 

I roll a 20 and kill the guard with the chest which also broke open, spilling all the confiscated loot on the ground.


DM got aggressive over our party's inventive ways of solving problems. We had to be because he was always running on hard mode. 

He retaliates by sending us into a situation of certain death.

Our strongest fighter dies, and we're fighting an entire army division led by a demon-possessed general who gains power by causing death as a blood ritual.

Another party member falls.

We are fighting in a small town, the streets and chokepoints with alleys/buildings and whatnot are the only things protecting us from the sheer number of enemies we were being pursued by.

Our Wizard is killed and our Dragonkin and Priest are now screwed and the DM is throwing us no bone - this was our punishment for thwarting his plans.

How dare we!

DM had designed the town and made a cool grid drawing. Houses, shops, town hall, farmhouses and on the edge of town...

A 20 story grain silo.

I'm killed and the lone survivor, our Dragonkin, gets close to the silo but is wounded and near death.

The Dragonkin asks the DM if there is grain in the silo. The army and their Demon leader are closing in and ready to tear every scale from the Dragonkin.

DM rolls, "Yes there is grain in the silo".

Dragonkin nods to us and we smile with understanding. The Dragonkin uses his turn to make fire with a special ability, and...

DM didn't know about dust explosions being a very common hazard in grain silos and grain elevators. (A dust explosion can cause major damage to structures, equipment, and personnel from violent overpressure or shockwave effects. Flying objects and debris can cause further damage. )

A Months-long campaign was over with hours upon hours of non-play time invested as well.

Best campaign I have played is done, the town is a crater, the main antagonist is vaporized, the antagonist's army is vaporized and all party member corpses are vaporized.

Good Game.


My shaman character had won a non-removable magic pink marker (I think it was in a bar or something), that could write in the air or on anything. The only way to remove the writing was to say the removal incantation that was given to me in secret by the DM.

So my friend, being the jerk that he was, stole most of my gold and a few potions whilst I was asleep (think I was getting us pizza in real life). So I decided to write the word 'Dork' on his face. 

The poor guy couldn't buy from any merchant as they showed him away. Fun times.


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This time, I was the Dungeon Master.

Here's the setting; the party is traveling through a village overlooked by a menacing Manor. They hear that the children of the town have been kidnapped by the vampire that dwells within the Manor and turned into vampires themselves.

The party knows that if they can kill the vampire before the next full moon, the children will become human again. So they venture into the Manor to find and kill the vampire. As they explore the Manor, they find excerpts of the vampire's journal detailing his descent into madness, and eventually vampirism. It tells of how the vampire lost his children to a wasting disease that has plagued the town before, and his wife killed herself shortly after. How he cursed the gods and was cursed in turn.

The party eventually find and kill the vampire lord, but to their shock, the children die shortly after turning human. It turns out that the disease that affected the vampire's children hundreds of years ago was a genetic disease that emerges every few years. He was kidnapping children with the disease and turning them, saving them from a painful death. Turning them back resulted in the children all succumbing rapidly to the disease.

After the quest, the party donated all the gold they found in the Manor to the townsfolk, helped bury the children and planted the banner they'd looted a while back as a monument to the lives lost.


In one campaign there was a war going on and I captured an enemy soldier who has taken part in burning my hometown and torturing people. 

I cut his tongue out and kept him as my personal slave. It happened when my character was like level 3 and I kept this guy for more than a year and a half worth of campaign. 

He finally died of poisoning - I used to test my food by giving small bits of it to him. As it turned out someone tried to kill me this way - essentially he saved my life. 

Nuff said - we were playing as the bad guys.


There was the time while we were preparing to ambush a sleeping dragon, everyone was in position, except me.

All my thief had to do was climb across the stalactites over top to set up his Back-Stab, and of course, I rolled too low and landed inside the Dragon's snoring mouth.

Interestingly, I'm the only one who escaped alive.


We once burned down an orphanage and took the 50 orphans into our care. 

We took them out into a cave in the beast-infested wilderness where we tried to establish a "summer camp" for them. We Perpetually traumatized them unintentionally. 

Our druid taught a few of them to shape shift and they got stuck as Wolf pups and beast cubs. The bard started training them as a crew of child pickpockets. Then we kind of got bored and left them in the cave with an upturned wagon as a front door.

We left a Dragonkin thief and a tame winter Wolf in charge while we went and pursued adventure.


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My party was trying to rally a bunch of gnomes to our side by starting a communist revolution. All the high charisma PCs where quoting Karl Marx but the rolled really bad.

The half-orc barbarian decided to give it a shot, rolled a 20. 

I started blaring the Soviet national anthem on my phone while he said "Krusty Krab is unfair! Mr. Krabs is in there! Standing at concession! Plotting his oppression!"



We had a guy who joined our group that we didn't really like and he chose a dwarf. So whenever we ran into a situation where we were worried about setting off a trap, needed to break down a door, or ran into a monster, we kept picking up the dwarf and tossed him at it. 

It turned out to be remarkably effective.


Had a DM once who wanted to play-test a new character class, and I was the guinea-pig. It was a kind of rogue+psionic. My key element was fire. One ability I got was that I could turn any bladed weapon into a flame tongue.

So I met this (established) group of adventurers as a start of a new campaign. One character had a real flame tongue, and he boasted that it had saved his life numerous times and that it was such a unique weapon.

My character intervened here and said something like "Rare, maybe, but not unique. Look!" and pulled his short sword and dagger, emblazoned in flames. He put them away again, went to the Ranger and said "and there is another one, too", rolled a successful deception/pick pocket roll (to draw that guys sword before he could intervene), pulled that Rangers longsword, and let it burst into flames: "Look!".


Okay, so my 3 friends and I are all playing as Monks with different moral codes (One Good, One Evil, One Neutral, One Chaotic). 

We all showed up to this noodle shop with these incredibly elaborate Kung-Fu-inspired backstories. Immediately the good and evil Monks start arguing about the intended use of Kung-Fu in life. 

The good Monk believes that it shows we all have a place in life, the other one believes that Kung-Fu masters belong at the top. 

My character (Who always fights drunk) saunters over to the table, followed by the neutral monk. I say the one thing that will end this debate.

"We should decide this like warriors."

So the debate ends and a battle begins in this quaint, backwoods noodle shop. Evil goes first and rolls to flip the table. 

He rolls a 1.

He hurts his hand trying to flip the table and decides to do a flying kick over the table. Same roll.

His foot catches on the table and he flips over onto the floor.

I throw the Saki in my hand at the Good monk, who catches it and throws it back at me, breaking in my face. 

I kick the table to intimidate him, breaking the table but the lantern catches on my leg and I burst into flames. I ran outside to put myself out in the decorative pond. 

The good monk and the neutral monk have a stand-off. The good monk swings a punch at him. Again, he rolls low, so his punch misses, he hits a table and dislocates his shoulder. 

The neutral monk tries to backflip out of the way and rolls twice. Once for the acrobatics, once for the landing. 

He rolls an 18 for the flip, a 3 for the landing. 

He crashes into a table and knocks himself out.

The noodle shop owner yelled at us for destroying his shop.

Waffle House Millionaire

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Not me, but our wizard. We were being attacked on a ship in a river. He was running low on spells, so when one enemy fell into the water, he quickly cast Hideous Laughter on him. Poor guy drowned from being compelled to laugh underwater.


Oh man, so this once time we had to fight this powerful gnome wizard and her half-orc army. Super powerful. She was about 300ft in the air in a bubble with crazy powerful magic winds so arrows couldn't hit her. 

So my character (A war priest) cast magic on himself and his flying hippogryph mount, Vandal, and flew like 1000 ft in the air.

I dove off Vandal, fell like 700ft so terminal velocity would help me cut through the wind shield she had created. I pushed through and rolled to stab her with a dagger. I roll a 20, the knife wedges into her.She looks at me hanging there, and hits me, making me fall 300ft, saved only by my casting Feather Fall.

Unbeknownst to her, the dagger was a ruse! The handle was hollowed out and inside hid Gloywin, a Dwarf Monk, whose grappling skills were unparalleled. He had transformed into a spider, so he had hidden in the dagger. He left his hideaway to attack the wizard and drag her to the ground. 

Unfortunately, he ruined his roll and lost his grip. He was transformed into a turtle and fell into the sea. There he was discovered by Rob, who had been transmuted into a squid by the Wizard. 

Reassessing the situation, we witnessed two dragons summoned by the wizard, each missing an eye. Earlier in the campaign, we were told a legend about two brothers who clawed each other's eye out in disagreement, and could never see each other's point of view and searched for their missing eye.

We recalled two large spheres we had found that were about the right size for a dragon's eye and were buried inside of a wall. I flew as quickly as possible back to the wall, loaded the eyes into cannons and fired them from the wall, successfully diverting the dragons' attention.

Realizing the meaning of the story, my buddy grabbed the eyes from the sea and flew up into the air, forcing each brother dragon to accept their other brother's eye, effectively seeing from the others view.

With their the mage dead, her half-orc army accepted peace, and the heroes quickly set sail for the wizard's island.

Adam Higgins

This happens to also be the tale of how I came to realise I didn't really know my friends.

It was our first campaign and I volunteered to be DM, putting many hours into developing the plot of a group of young adventurers being sent to a small island with high gray cliffs and a mysterious stormy setting. It was bound to be a good attempt at a campaign, especially considering how I had tried to adjust the choices available for my particular friends and their creative choices.

The campaign began with a small rowing boat arriving at the foot of some rotten and creaking stairs. The stairs spiraled way up the cliff and I really dramatized it. They were meant to be humble, worried and respectful.

The old blind man rowing the boat put out his hand in a gesture of payment, and I asked what the adventurers would like to do.

"We'll take his oar."


"Yeah, we take his oar and push him adrift. It's foggy and stormy, right? Yeah, we do that."

"Okay, well he's blind a strength check...14. The old man wheezes a little as he attempts to hold on to the slippery long oar. His hands are brittle and weak, so you yank it away with ease. The force makes him wobble as you push his boat slowly away. He stares in your direction with grayed-over lost eyes. You see a single tear streak down each cheek as he slowly fades into the fog."

"Throw the oar at him."

"...uh I guess roll for strength again? Or accuracy I think?"

"18, that's a hit right?"

"The oar glides gracefully through the fog and hits him square in the forehead, knocking him unconscious and pushing the boat over the edge of your visible horizon."

And well, after that point I realised I wouldn't be using my 8000-word plan and I didn't really know my friends at all.


We entered a dungeon with about 8 or 9 ghouls lurking about and we could either sneak past them or fight them. Since I had very low intelligence and I rolled badly on my sneak my DM decided that while trying to sneak past I would start humming a tune, which meant we all got caught. 

So the only choice was to fight.

I decided to use my rage ability to attack as many as possible, rolled a 20. Now the DM asks me how I would like to attack these ghouls. In my slightly overexcited thought process, I said, "I will slay these foul ghouls with my bare hands".

DM then told me to roll again for some reason, another 20. What ended up happening was that I killed all the ghouls with my hands and we walked out unharmed.

My DM then found a way for my character to be killed the next time we met up as he felt I had grown too big for my boots. 

I miss you Gar, you magnificent ogre.


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This is actually one of my own stories. My gang and I were visiting a village, hunting down an autocratic cult leader. 

After a day of planning, we set up our attack in the town square, standing near the exits and waiting for the right time to strike. The town had erected a platform for this cult leader to make a speech (He was campaigning for mayor I believe) and a large crowd had gathered to listen to him. 

Our archer was a Half-Elf named Pimblo and he was positioned on a nearby rooftop, with a bow and arrow in hand. 

Our DM was pretty tired and didn't want to organize a full combat situation, so he just left us poised and ready to attack. We all started yelling at him to just let us go through with the attack and he reluctantly agreed.

His one condition was that the arrow fired from Pimblo had to be on a roll of 18 or higher to hit the cult leader. We didn't want to leave on a cliffhanger, so we sat down, and intently eyed Pimblo as he rolled.

The dice landed on the table


We went absolutely wild. The arrow flew perfectly, hitting its target and pinning him to one of his guards behind him. 

The rest of the attack went well, but man that one roll felt like divine intervention

My Own Experience 

Killed our party wizard because he took a belt of giant strength that I could have really used as a barbarian. In his words, "What are you gonna do about it? Stab me?" 

Yup, I stabbed him.


This is the story of how our one-shot campaign party ignored the railroad and became potato entrepreneurs.

I was playing a half-orc warrior. Low Intelligence and Charisma, of course. My friend Matt was playing a thief. We came across a farm and I decided to take a potato to go eat for dinner.

We camp out for the night and I'm sitting by the campfire, trying to slice this potato up with my battle-ax and then cook it on the side of the blade, which is not working too well. My thief friend offers to help me find a skillet to cook my potato in, and my character, not wanting to be rude, says he'll go ask the farmer for one.

Here is where the fun begins.

We find the farmhouse again, and I politely knock on the front door. Thief is nowhere to be found, which is usually a sign something bad will happen. The door opens and the farmer seems disgruntled, as my character says "I use skillet now please!", in his most polite tone.

He refuses. My character becomes upset and asks again. "I USE SKILLET NOW PLEASE!!"

He refuses. I then see a thief sneaking up behind said farmer, who had entered from the back of the house. The thief grabs the farmer, and my character charges him and kills him. Anger does these things.

We then hear movement from the other room and both rush in trying to figure out what it is. The Farmer's wife wakes up, screaming and crying. The thief decided to take out his rope and tie her down to the bed so we can make our daring escape.

The thief rolls a deception check, natural 20. He writes a letter about how the farmer was involved in a mafia of sorts, and how he had failed his duties and had to be killed. Due to the natural 20, this letter was totally believable.

We then proceed to steal his wagon and take ALL of his potatoes, and his skillet.

We go back to camp, sleep and awaken to a new day, headed for town. We go to town and intend on selling all of our potatoes. We wash all of them off, and the wizard in our party uses Prestidigitation to make them all smell great. 

Wizard rolls to sell the potatoes in town. 


We sold all of the potatoes (like 60 or 70) for somewhere around 150-200 gold. We then left town and were never seen again.


I know a lot of people in these stories rolled a 20 and performed some amazing feat but that's not always the case.

The first time I saw someone roll 20, they were foraging for berries to eat. If he rolled a 1 he would have been poisoned, but if he rolled anything higher they would have been just regular berries. 

So he rolls a 20 and the only difference it makes is that the berries were much more delicious than normal. 

That's normally what happens when you roll a 20, not some mind blowing victory that changes the entire game.

My Own Experience

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One time, our party of six was split in half: three had gone back to town to fetch supplies, and myself and two others were just waiting for them to get back. 

In the meantime, we decided to play pattycake to pass the time. This was basically just a joke, but then our DM said, "Alright then, you two who are playing, roll a Dexterity contest to see who slips up first". 

We thought, hey, this is at least a way for someone to feel like they've accomplished something while we're literally just sitting here, so sure! What's the worst that could happen?

And then we looked at the results.

Me: 17

Friend I was playing against: 1 (critical fail)

Our DM just went silent for a second. I think in that moment it dawned on all of us what was about to happen: my character got just a little too into the game and my friend, completely failing to keep up, went tumbling off the side of the cliff we were standing near.

At this point, my entire crew is in tears of laughter, and the other party member who was with us on the cliff jokingly asked if I wanted to play a second round. I responded, "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea!"

And he picked up his dice.

And I picked up mine.

Me: 20 (crit)

Him: 4

So in-game, what immediately happens after I accidentally shove my friend off of a cliff is that I turn to the other person there, jokingly raise my hands again, and then just shove him off right after.

That was quite an awkward moment when the rest of the party got back and I had to explain why I was the only one left.


I ran a homebrew campaign where anything could happen if you rolled right and could reasonably do it with what the party had. 

So my players decided to utilize a small fire rune, healing spells and gear, and their trusty massive barbarian NPC sidekick. In short, they hollowed out his chest while keeping him alive and turned him into a living breathing pizza oven. 

An oven that screamed in horrible agony every time they used him to warm up some food.


Found a dead squirrel and a party member decided they wanted to keep it.

Eventually, we're in a village and come upon this religious gathering and are asked for a donation.

Without missing a beat, he put the dead squirrel that he had had for several in-game days in the collection plate and walked away.


DM had our party infiltrate a cult and my cleric was mad about having to "disavow" her goddess in order to join. The next day the cultists were leading a rally and had started pickpocketing the people who had gathered to watch. It was pretty obvious we were supposed to stop them by having superior stealth skills.

I started a riot.


We set our secret contact on fire as part of an improv stageplay we put on in a tavern for extra cash. 

We didn't recognise the coded language and thought he was heckling.



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