One of my most memorable gaming moments happened during a particularly amazing eight-month long D&D 3.5 game.
In it, we tackled a megadungeon module (lovingly referred to as "White Castle" by the players and GM) with extra modules thrown in for each character's specific story and class.
The party was at about level 10 when we first entered our Hobgoblin Binder's module, a tomb to an ancient Vampire Emperor. When we entered the dungeon, we saw a magic altar ahead of us. Placing a pebble on it, we watched as it was teleported away, likely to the treasure vault of the Vampire.
I was playing a Cleric focused solely on healing and…
I play a semi-regular game of 3.5 with some of my coworkers in the US Navy. I also have two kids, one of which, my oldest daughter who is nine years old, enjoys playing in our campaigns as much as she can.
One day our DM, my good friend the Russian Spy, helped her roll up a character to "Cameo" in our campaign. She rolled up a Centaur. Needless to say he kept it simple for her, but true to his word she Cameoed into our campaign in epic fashion.
Right as our party was getting ready to engage a Phalanx of Skeletons, my daughter's Centaur comes charging through the portal behind us.
Our group had rotating DMs, each of whom contributed to the lore of our particular world. NPCs that showed up in one DM's campaign might crop up again in another's, and we'd constantly try to oneup one another in terms of scale and difficulty as far as our campaigns went.
One night, our DM had prepared for us a particularly nasty campaign that involved a powerful Lich planning to unleash nightmarish horror upon a defenseless town. If it wasn't the traps getting us, it was the huge, powerful monsters or the merciless punishments for neglecting to check every nook and cranny.