An Incident at the Bathhouse

Why oh why?

I’ve been a game master for a number of years. Okay, maybe not that many when you get right down to it, but I’ve definitely been around the block a few times. I’ve had good players, bad players, ugly players, total party kills, silly moments, serious moments, and scary moments. I’ve finished campaigns, canceled campaigns, paused campaigns and resumed them later, though most often not, and so on and so on. In all my experience as a game master, there’s been but one occasion that was so ridiculous that I had to break out Yakety Sax for the background music.

That occasion was the bathhouse incident.

Part of the beauty of playing RPGs is that you can never be truly certain what will happen. As the game master, you always have a general idea of what you think will happen but the uncertainty introduced by the players and their little slice of narrative control will make sure to keep you on your toes no matter what. Sure, the dice add a great degree of randomness but it’s the players and the choices they make that will truly turn everything on its head. They’ll try unexpected things. They’ll skip over huge chunks of your prep work. They’ll hand someone a grenade and walk away with the pin. (Okay, that was me)

Many game masters don’t realize it, and most players probably don’t either, but the truth is that the players have a great degree of control over the game’s narrative. One significant way is in terms of tone. A dramatic, frightening, and tense situation can easily be diffused with a quick joke. A player can elevate the same situation by leaning into the tension and having their character act frightened. But players don’t just have the power to enhance or diminish the feeling of the scene. Oh no, their power is far greater than that—they possess the ability to change the mood entirely; to shape it to their will and whim, to create comedy from tragedy, tragedy from comedy, tension from boredom, boredom from tension, joy from wrath, wrath from joy, and everything in-between. The game master may be the one to write the premise, but make no mistake: the story is wholly in the hands of the players. And that’s what brings us to the bathhouse. I gave the players a clandestine smooth-talking social infiltration operation and they gave me back a pink cow that farts soap bubbles and sings Frank Sinatra.

Setting the Scene

This story features Cinis the human druid, Steve the human-turned-lizard fighter who refuses to take off his armor, Aelar the elven wizard, currently engaged in what can only be described as a wand-measuring contest with the new guy; Khoros the dwarven artificer. The four of them found themselves in the capital of the realm, a sprawling city buzzing with life. They were tasked with getting hired as protection for a suspicious expedition¹ to gather information about the suspected villain’s activities. The plan was to simply talk to the expedition leader Randal Clearmount, an old human man easily identified by his signature red cloak adorned with the symbol of a lion. A great and simple plan, complicated only by the fact that Clearmount rarely wanders outside the Royal Gates, the most central district of the city which is closed off to all but the nobles and aristocracy.

With entering the Noble Gates not being an option (they attempted going there previously and ended up wanted for arson) they would have to find Clearmount during one of his rare excursions to the outer districts. Fortunately, the group had received information that he would sometimes venture outside the gates to visit a certain bathhouse and his favorite opium den. Forgoing the puzzle of figuring out which opium den was Clearmount’s favorite based on what they knew about him², the party waited until the time he was expected to be at the bathhouse and headed straight for it. On the way they discussed the best way to persuade Clearmount to let them join the expedition. That’s when the tone of the session began to rapidly change. Cinis, the druid, suggested they try to impress him somehow. She figured since he had a lion symbol on his cloak he must like lions. Surely it couldn’t be a family crest representing bravery or anything like that, oh no. The cloak could mean only one thing:

Randal Clearmount was some kind of lion enthusiast.

And since he loved lions so much, what if Cinis was to turn herself into a lion to try and impress him? A marvelous idea thought the rest of the group. This was becoming one of those strange situations where the dungeon master has created an open-ended problem for the players to solve in whatever manner they wish, but the players seem to think there’s some kind of pre-planned solution and will latch onto every little detail you give them, thinking it must be some kind of clue. But hey, a good dungeon master rolls with the punches. I’m sure he’d be very impressed, if not just intimidated, by getting a visit from a lion while taking a bath.

Then there was the question of what kind of lion they should turn the druid into. If Clearmount loves lions so much then he’s probably seen a few before. They were going to need a rare lion. Like an albino one. I’m not sure who came up with the suggestion but the group quickly remembered that druids can only turn into animals they’ve seen before. Now they needed to find an albino lion so that Cinis could take a good look at it and turn herself into an identical one. This brought up the question of whether or not the city had a zoo and, if so, whether the zoo had an albino lion. Improvising, I decided that the city now had a zoo, but since they hadn’t been there yet the players could not be sure if there were any lions and, indeed, if those lions were capable of producing melanin. Since they wanted to catch Clearmount before he left the bathhouse they decided to save the zoo visit for another day, and simply roll up with a regular lion.

The Lion, the Lizard, and the Audacity of this Wizard

Arriving at the bathhouse the party was immediately stopped at the front desk. Turns out you’re not allowed to bring lions to the baths. Can’t wear plate armor either, much to Steve’s dismay. Aelar and Khoros, the elven mage and the dwarven engineer, headed in without the others. After some back and forth Steve realized there was little the terrified receptionist could do to stop them and jauntily strode forward towards the changing rooms, non-albino lion in tow.

Security was called.

While Cinis and Steve had been arguing with the receptionist (though mostly Steve, as lions can’t speak), Aelar and Khoros had made their way to the main bathing area—a sort of enclosed courtyard with a large pool in the center. Splitting up, Aelar hopped into the pool to keep an eye out for Clearmount while Khoros went to check the underground saunas. That’s precisely where Clearmount and his guards could be found and Khoros would end up convincing him to let them join the expedition all on his own.

While he was doing that, the unsuspecting bathers fled for their lives as a man in a suit of armor entered the pool area with a lion. The only ones not deterred by this display were the members of a local criminal gang the party happened to have a feud with. They started sliding bars of soap on the ground towards Steve’s feet to make him trip, after which they whipped him with their towels. One stabbed gangbanger later, and the criminals fled. Khoros, returning with the good news of his successful mission, was greeted by a rather surprising scene. He saw Steve, struggling to stand up on the soap-covered floor. Next to him, the lion. In the pool, a dead body. But the water wasn’t red with blood. It was, in fact, green. And then yellow and then purple. By the edge of the pool sat Aelar, moving his hands across the surface of the water as if playing an imaginary DJ turntable, using his magic to create disco lights in the water. Shrugging his shoulders, Khoros cannonballed into the pool. Aelar was quick to cast feather fall on him to slow his descent, leading to the most pathetic splash in diving history. With security arriving it was now the party’s turn to leg it. They hurried out of there and never returned.

Not that they’d ever be allowed back in.