Here’s the thing.
I died on Saturday night.
That is, my D&D character did. She stepped on a pressure pad when trekking down a dark tunnel, fell into a pit and was defeated by a giant centipede.
We’d all been traipsing up a river, looking for a back way into the goblins’ secret mine (much to the disgust of our game master, who had expected us to approach via the front entrance), when we encountered a small band of goblins. They ambushed us actually, but we saw them off and then, after considerable perseverence, found a secret entrance to a tunnel.
So we’re creeping down this tunnel, and it turns out that rangers aren’t supposed to lead the way in tunnels — that’s the rogue’s job…
because the rogue can find the traps before the fool ranger steps on them…
So there am I in the pit, the roof closes over and I’m battling a giant centipede in the dark. I get a good hit in actually — huzzah! — but my euphoria is short-lived because next thing I’m unconscious and totally dependent on being rescued.
My companions do a valiant job. They have to figure out how to re-trigger the trap without falling in themselves and keep it open so they have enough time to rescue me… Unfortunately, it all takes a bit too long and I’m dead by the time they get down to me, and they end up nearly being picked off by the critter one by one, until Saffir our rogue shoots it dead with an arrow.
I’m sitting there with my head in my hands while all this is going on. Noooo! I don’t want to be dead!
And then the unthinkable happens.
They start talking about resurrecting my character.
I stare, unaware this is even an option. I’m not allowed to comment because I’m dead (our GM is very strict on these things), but I think they’re a little mad. After all, they have to drag me, all my stuff (and I’m carrying four additional swords to sell), all the way back to the town, which is about a 3-4 day journey.
Their reasoning, however, is that they can’t really go on without Rhi (that’s my character) because she’s the main fighting machine of our little party. I could of course roll up another character (which I do in fact start doing), but that character would be inexperienced and not nearly as useful.
So, in a show of touching loyalty, they drag me back to the town and see about getting Rhi resurrected. It costs a fortune, and Cal (our mage) pledges our service to an enigmatic cleric for part of the sum required. So now we’re more or less broke and badly in debt… but I get resurrected.
They make me roll the dice to see how effective my resurrection is.
Holy firetruck! You mean this could all be for nothing? I could roll a ‘1’ (which I’m rather prone to doing) and stay dead? Yes… but that’s where the ‘benny’ (a single replacement roll I’ve been saving for an important moment) could come in handy.
Hyperventilating, I close my eyes and roll the D20. I can’t look at it. There’s silence. Oh god, what have I rolled? Still silence. I have to open my eyes and look at it. It’s a ‘7’. My heart stops. Is it enough?
Turns out it was enough for me to be resurrected with the same constitution points, although I lost a heap of experience points, meaning I fall all the way back down to early level 2, instead of nearly level 3. Oh well. Better than being a whole new character on level 1.
So, an interesting evening. I spent much of it shaking — it’s weird how caught up in these things you can get. I would hate to be a gambler, pinning all hope on the roll of a dice. It’s really stressful! But Rhi lives to embark upon another campaign, and I will have to try harder not to get killed next time… although I’m not sure I could have done anything much differently.