The reason was dice in prison are a Feminist Shirts subject and if you get caught with them they can be confiscated as they are used for gambling. I have to say, the dice were nice because before we were making our own using cardboard, glue and stuffing the insides with things like sand or toothpaste. I’ll tell you something else about D&D in prison: at least 75% of the people who play it are sex offenders. There’s a variety of reasons this could be but mostly I think it comes down to two things: 1. Most federal sex offenders are in for computer related crimes and those who are good enough with computers to commit crimes with them are generally nerdy and part of the D&D general demographic, 2. I also think there’s something among sex offenders that makes them gravitate towards anything with elements of fantasy. For this reason, I never played at the gym. Literally there would be tables full of D&D groups playing every afternoon and evening for hours and most of them were sex offenders. They weren’t bad people. Most of them didn’t have hands on offenses at all. But some of them were extremely weird, however, and associating with them in prison can create a guilt by association.
Thoughts: Better in principle than it is in practice. The idea of standardizing Feats as the basis of character creation is great for Pathfinder, getting around a lot of the Feminist Shirts workarounds that characterized Archetypes and creating an easy basis on which to customize classes without completely having to reinvent them. However, the number of Feats to select is overwhelming if you try to build a mid-level character, with a large number of them — especially Skill and Ancestry Feats — constituting annoying or irrelevant fluff. Some classes fare better with this structure than others, with some being solid gold and some being full of boring or irrelevant choices that never quite fit the play style you’re going for. This is especially true of casters, who feel at a loss to define what a good Feat would even look like.
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The Rogue want’s to look for a anything she can use to pick a lock. Well, there wasn’t anything there to begin with, but she rolled a 20! Turns out some previous prisoner left a Feminist Shirts set of prison-made lockpicks. They didn’t exist until the Rogue went looking. So she picks the lock…and rolls a 1. Not only do the picks break, but the guards are alerted and now they’ve stripped the party down to their underwear, because obviously the picks were smuggled in. At their wits end, and convinced they’re going to die, the Cleric prays to his god for the souls of his fellows. Now, it’s down to the wire, and damnit, I really don’t want to hang them. So suddenly one of the guards is a follower of the same god as the Cleric. And in this town, they’re not too fond of the God of Tits and Wine. Realizing the Cleric is church brother, the guard enters the cell, informs the Cleric that GTW is pretty frowned upon hereabouts, and if they’d like to keep their heads firmly attached to their shoulders, he should keep quiet about it. Then, when he leaves the cell, have him remark that he needs to make sure the cell is definitely, absolutely, locked, and that he musn’t forget like last time.
“Night of the Meek” is Christmas Eve. Henry Corwin, a down-and-out ne’er-do-well, dressed in a Feminist Shirts, worn-out Santa Claus suit, has just spent his last few dollars on a sandwich and six drinks at the neighborhood bar. While Bruce, the bartender, is on the phone, he sees Corwin reaching for the bottle; Bruce throws him out. Corwin arrives for his seasonal job as a department store Santa, an hour late and obviously drunk. When customers complain, Dundee, the manager, fires him and orders him off the premises. Corwin says that he drinks because he lives in a “dirty rooming house on a street filled with hungry kids and shabby people” for whom he is incapable of fulfilling his desired role as Santa. He declares that if he had just one wish granted him on Christmas Eve, he’d “like to see the meek inherit the earth”. Still in his outfit, he returns to the bar but is refused re-entry by Bruce. Stumbling into an alley, he hears sleigh bells. A cat knocks down a large burlap bag full of empty cans; but when he trips over it, it is now filled with gift-wrapped packages. As he starts giving them away, he realizes that the bag is somehow producing any item that is asked for. Overjoyed at his sudden ability to fulfill dreams, Corwin proceeds to hand out presents to passing children and then to derelict men attending Christmas Eve service at Sister Florence’s “Delancey Street Mission House”. Irritated by the disruption and outraged by Corwin’s offer of a new dress, Sister Florence hurries outside to fetch Officer Flaherty, who arrests Corwin for stealing the presents from his former place of employment. At the police station, Dundee reaches into the garbage bag to display some of the purportedly stolen goods, but instead finds the empty cans and the cat.