Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

[matrix3]

And, of course, we cannot forget the utility of the Cargo-Sheep.

Yeah, but they're a little conspicuous:

[Narf the Mouse]

Teh funny!

[Zeropoint]

How do you vampirize someone made of metal?

With a drill press?

[Dronf]

We'er playing Pulp, and one guy doesn't really get it. So one point he complains

"This plot is a doily, its almost all holes"

<10 minutes later another player who always says things the wrong way goes:

"[He]'s right, this plot is a hanky."

Play stopped for ~5 minutes.

[Dronf]

Best w/o explaination:
"Can I balloon the aardvark?"

[DJ Blackrock]

With a drill press?

Sigged. That is wonderful. Thank you.

Okay, got a few from tonight, Hunter the Vigil:

On a limbless vampire used as a "battery" for a hunter who's secretly a ghoul:
Tommy: "For all I know you could have your limbless girlfriend in a cardboard box!"
Scott (OOC): "It's not a cardboard box! And she's not my girlfriend!"

--------------------------------

Impersonating the FBI:
Tommy: "While you were out having your little company picnic, I was defending the American Way of Life! How were your Devilled Eggs?"
(best if shouted at the top of their lungs)

--------------------------------

Regarding my character:
GM: "With a one presence, you are terribly unimpressive, and you have that aura, that 'eau de-didn'tbathe'"

--------------------------------

On buying bullet-proof vests:
GM (as gunshop owner): "So, why do you need seven vests?"
Scott: "I'm going hunting."
Gunshop owner: ::long pause:: "... With Cheney?"
Play stopped for about 10 minutes at this point.

[Ms Superior]

Yes, those are mercenary Amazons, and no they do not wear chainmail bikinis...... Except on formal occasions, of course.

[Ian Mackinder]

Yes, those are mercenary Amazons, and no they do not wear chainmail bikinis...... Except on formal occasions, of course.

So, to get this absolutely clear, the rest of the time these Amazons are NOT wearing their chainmail bikinis.

[Gnaskar]

Ultracor owns most of the media, as well as Ultrasaur:
GM: The show received record ratings, but also a record number of complaining letters, something friendlier media's were quick to point out. In the time since the incident at the museum…
Pinpoint: Wait. Friendly in what way, to whom?
Everyone: us.
Silverbolt (pointing at Ultrasaur): As in he owns them.
GM: In the time since the incident at the museum…
Steamjack: as in he doesn't own anything, including himself.

No further comments:
GM: In the time since the incident at the museum, and the resultant mixed coverage by the media at large, things have settled into a dull routine at the champions headquarters.
Steamjack: Is there such a thing?
Everyone: NO!

Five minutes and barely two paragraphs later a fight breaks out between Steamjack and Ultrasaur and Silverbolt needs me to print him:
GM: well, none of the remaining stuff is *that* important. Sigh

I try to find reasons to get as many of the Player Characters into the same bank as the bad guys bust in:
GM: Andy, you're here with your parents to set up your first bank account.
Andy: Shouldn't I be in school?
GM: Parent teacher day. Technically your parents are skipping school.

Silverbolt has an illusional version of himself to maintain his secret identity and deal with boring parts of this lawyer job:
GM: Silverbolt's here with a client.
Silverbolt: Oh, joy I'm with lawyer stuff. Wait, how important is this client?
GM: (has a brain freeze)
Steamjack: Is he expendable?
Ultrasaur: Oh my god. Its a high paying business contract, in a case for… (has a brain freeze)
GM: Sexual assault.
Silverbolt: In person then. This f***er had better pay well, 'cause this will be a long day.

Commenting a Steampunk model:
Silverbolt: Why couldn't this be Steamjack.
GM: It actually looks a lot like Steamjack, only rustier and older.
Steamjack: Rustier and older?! I'll have you know my design was original!

The two brothers tend to argue about, well, everything. I try to stay on both sides:
Silverbolt: You don't know that anything's happened yet.
Ultrasaur: I can hear the alarms.
Silverbolt: the alarms haven't gone off yet, they just walked into the bank.
GM: They just walked into the bank. Through the wall.

Andy gets decorative with the dice representing civilians:
Silverbolt: Ah! Siamese triplets. My client has three heads.
GM: and his defense in the trial is mistaken identity.
Silverbolt: No wonder I'm here in person.

Random statements that are best without context:
Steamjack: I pollute to the bank.
...
Pinpoint: Yes, put the hostages to sleep so they can't see what we're doing.

Changing costumes can be a hassle:
Silverbolt: I say to my client: Excuse me, I'm gonna hide in the bathroom 'til this is over, do you mind? Does he?
GM: no. Well actually he just stutters something strange.
...
Ultrasaur: Do they run into any other superheroes trying to change in the toilets?
GM: Well, there is the sound of someone trying to put on their power armor in the stall next to you, but it seems to be taking a while...

Eleven year olds give better tactical advice:
Ultrasaur: If we could pit Steamjack against the Steamjack clone…
Andy: didn't you ever play pokèmon, you never pit fire against fire!

Andy wants to build a snot barricade for her and the civilians to hide behind:
Silverbolt: I am so gonna harp on you for this afterwards.
Steamjack: I am so gonna hurl on you for this afterwards.

Trying to identify the confederate villains, Silverbolt has few useful skills:
Silverbolt: Unless they were in a legal issue recently, I've got nothing.
GM: Recently no, not they were in quite a big one a while back. (the civil war)

No further comment needed:
GM: Incidentally, he's telepathic.
Silverbolt: As in he can tell what people are thinking?
GM: As in he can tell people what to think.

GM (in Russian accent): General Hood, who does not have Russian accent…
Players: then stop using one!
GM (obnoxious southern accent): Y'all be very friendly now an' hand over the money!
Steamjack: Go back to Russian. Please?

[Klytus]

From the latest campaign

Someone wanted to get skills to be more "undercoverous"...

Out of context...
GM (OOC):How do you like gaming so far?
Player (OOC): I gotta change my pants…

Female player OOC: Do you have any popsicles?
Male OOC: Just one – but it’s not cold.

After way too many bad jokes: I’m not sure who to punch anymore…

In a discussion on "lubricating the gears of his mind"
Female PC: If you need me to lubricate the gears of… (OOC) don’t go there!

Sounds like they need power sensitivity training…

OOC: I think Dick Harder was the roommate of Harry Beaver

On aiding with computer skills…
Dash: You can be the left hand.
Graviton: I was thinking I might get lucky…

After going to a night club
Willow: (Asking the GM)Oh? I don’t get laid?
GM (OOC): Was that a goal?
Players OOC quoting 8-Bit theatre: If there are any guys there, she wants to do them!

On discussing how "functional" Prism (a brick with a humanoid diamond form) is in his shape shifted form... all OOC
Player 1: Doesn't it have facets? That would be sharp!
GM: Well, he could always "smooth out the edges"...
Player 2: Gives a new meaning to the terms "polishing his jewels"

In describing doing a telepathic mind-reading
GM: You get into his brain…
Player 1 (OOC)… it is dark
GM (OOC): You may be eaten by a Grue…

Player 1 (OOC):I’ve been jerking around too much… let me rephrase that...

Player 1 (OOC):Do you have a paper-clip sized tool?
Player 2 (OOC):Anything *I* have would be too big…

[Egyptoid]

the adventuring party has aquired a Mimic as a henchman.

he used to masquerade as a suitcase,
then grew bigger, so now his disguise
of choice is a steamer trunk.

We named him Lou Gauge.

[Drhoz]

Certain matters of inheritance continued - It should have been run last fortnight but two players piked, and I couldn't really run it with a single character carrying over between sessions.

Paddy McGinty - Excitable expatriate Irish ex-sapper
Sydney Delthorn - Student & scholar
Lucy Smith - Alcoholic actress, carried taking a break from her career
Alexei Petrovich - Russian parapsychologist

Anyway - Miss Smith discovers she's inherited more than a crumbling three-storey home from her late great-grandparent. And it's not as if the furniture is really worth carting off for auction, either. Ah well - maybe that truckfull of mysterious carved stone blocks ( from a temporary island off Tierra del Fuego ) that they found gathering dust in the old family warehouse will be worth something, one they're reassembled.

When last we met, Paddy McGinty's war of attrition against The Raccoon That Should Not Be was not going well. Possibly because there's more than one of them. Or at least, the footprints coming back to the house are twice the size of the one that left. What other conclusion could there be?

PC religion continues to come up with some frequency. Paddy McGinty's prejudices for example. Sydney Delthorn, of all the things in Innsmouth to be disturbed by, finds the irreparable state of the Unitarian church most perturbing.

Paddy OOC : They'll all be stuck in Limbo
Smith OOC : Is that so bad? I've heard it's pretty fun *does limbo dance*
Petrovich OOC : Yes, I can all too easily picture you dancing with a pole.

Me, GM : "I'd rather expected your stand against the Esoteric Order to be a desperate hold on normality vs. the unbearable truth of how the world really works, but if you want to make a contest between competing faiths I won't stop you. After all, homicidal religious mania is a common enough insanity. Just look at any history book. Or the news."

Of course they find other ways to expand a simple one-session adventure into 12 hours of in-character bickering

Petrovich : "What's that?"
McGinty : "Best drink in the wooorld - Irish whisky"
Petrovich : "Ah, the poor man's vodka"

McGinty describes how he lost half his fingers in the Great War

McGinty : Some wee gobshite blew off me fingers
Petrovich : Gobshite? What is this thing, gobshite?
McGinty : *describes Sydney Delthorn*

Petrovich : Oh, you are the Irish. I thought you were the Scots.
McGinty : Roight, where's me gun

Injured in his own raccoon trap, McGinty sterilises the wound with alcohol.

McGinty : *pouring into onto arm and into mouth respectively* One for you, one for me
Petrovich OOC : And after a while 'Well my arm isn't hurting anymore' *finishes bottle*

Descriptions of the raccoon that nobody has actually seen yet get increasingly confused. The total lack of Natural History skill in the louder members of the party don't help.

Me, GM : So, are you going to look, or are you going to believe their stories of raccoon-camel things that live in the attic?

Petrovich : Follow the script!
Smith : Tom Cruise doesn't
McGinty OOC : But he has the laser beam eye
Three of us : *frenzied one-eyed squinting and writhing and over-acting ensues*

Delthorn's player : I'm not writing that one down - it's just one more pun in the long road to Hell

Delthorn : I'm putting a tin of Pork'n'beans in the trap as bait
Smith OOC : Do you open it first?
Delthorn OOC : No, I'll leave a tin opener so we can see just how smart this raccoon is

McGinty sings to keep his spirits up. The quantity of spirits that goes down is also noteworthy.

McGinty : I have a voice loike an angel
Me, OOC : Lucifer, possibly.

Petrovich and Delthorn watch from the house with interest as a drunken McGinty and Smith drive back from a neighbouring ruinous house they're using as firewood.

Me, GM : The trucks headlights are pointing into the sky now. It's like that scene in Tremors where the station wagon gets eaten by a Graboid.

McGinty is aware of Ralsa Marsh's less than pure interest in Lucy Smith

McGinty OOC : "He was checking out your batty-boos and jubbly bits"

Not exactly surprising, really. Innsmouth residents really aren't very pretty people. Even the purely human ones can alarm you, if run into unexpectedly.

McGinty OOC : Oh, she's got a face like a hatfull of ass-holes, to be sure
Me, GM : Yes, I imagine brown paper bags are a valuable commodity in Innsmouth.

Petrovich & Smith get some private time for nookie, after his successful seduction technique

Me, GM : Well, he's got you convinced - apparently Russians can do amazing things with their eyebrows.

Me, GM : Don't forget, this is the 1920s. You'll need to keep one foot on the floor

The locals turn nasty. The party get nervous and start planning to barricade themselves in, or escape whilst they still can.

Smith : We've got shutters - let's shut them

Alexei : We need a plan. I say we get in the truck right now.
Me, GM : Ah, the great Russian plan - F***offski. And it works so well in all sorts of circumstances. Napoleon invading? F***offski. It works even better if you set the place on fire as you leave.

They plan an ambush for the creature they think is being hunted by the torch-wielding mob out in the salt-marsh. They hear it outside the back door, moaning "Poppa, Poppa" over and over

Lucy puts two and two together, and realises it's her grand-uncle, who been locked in the attic slowly starving to death for the last 40 years, until the players inadvertently let him out to feed and grow.

Lucy from upstairs : "Don't shoot, it's my Uncle Gregory!"
The rest : *relax, relieved, lowering weapons*
McGinty : Gregory? Come on in.
Delthorn : Wipe your feet!
Gregory does come in - an 8 ft tall, scaly fish-man, with bulging eyes and three-inch claws.
The Rest : AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[Ms Superior]

Yes, those are mercenary Amazons, and no they do not wear chainmail bikinis...... Except on formal occasions, of course.

So, to get this absolutely clear, the rest of the time these Amazons are NOT wearing their chainmail bikinis.

Nope, they're wearing full-body plate, plate-mail, chain-mail, heavy-leather, or leather/padding (for hoplite/cataphract, medium cavalry/heavy foot, medium cavalry/foot, light cavarly/foot, respectively---moreorless)---you do NOT want to suggest Amazons are nekkid; not in MY world.

[Susano]

From the Farlanthia D&D 4E game:

On using 'Non-Euclidian Dice' in your game.
"I rolled... brain fry!"
"I don't care if your dice rolled through a crack in reality, you still have to go get them!"

Na'yumi: "They're about to complete the ritual. Should we stop them?"
Marid: "Yes.... Wait... What ritual?"

Wyk (OOC): "I really shouldn't be left unsupervised."

GM: "That's the graveyard backing up."

GM: "[Your plan is] Standing on a glowy, floaty disk piloted by a teenaged girl."

Wyk: "Good news: we're heading in the right direction. Bad news: I don't think we want to go that way."

GM: "If you'd like to attack the darkness, you may."

Note: not only did one PC attack the darkness, she hit it!

[Shadow Hawk]

4th edition DnD.
At one point, the quotes were coming fast and furious, and I gave up writing them. So the inevitable jokes got left out

Aleric, Human Paladin
Torm, Dragonborn Cleric
Rangrim, Human Artificer
Baron Shadowdeath, Eladrin Wizard
Atolucus, Half Elf Rogue
Ciaphas, Human Fighter
Justin, Human Fighter
GM

Aleric: I have a +5 pick of smashing glass

GM: The room is 50' by 50'...
Aleric: And 50' tall...
Torm: And 50' in duration...

Planning session...
Aleric: There's a lot of "If" coming off this plan.

Rangrim is up to something...
Rangrim: Ooops.
Atolucus: What do you mean, "oops"?
Aleric: What are you, a kender?
Atolucus: I've seen this movie.
Aleric: It ends badly.
Rangrim: I'll run diagnostics.
Aleric: The gnostics are going to die?
Atolucus: Damn heretics should die.
Torm: Took a level in Cleric of Intolerance, did you?

Atolucus has a plan...
Aleric: This is why you're not in charge.
Torm: He's not in charge because you sleep with one eye open.

We find 10,000 dead bodies, and 5000 live children...
Ciaphas: Lets train the children to be soldiers!
Aleric: Why?
Ciaphas: Cannon fodder.
Torm: Why don't we raise the dead bodies as zombies to use as cannon fodder?
Ciaphas: 12,000 zombies would make a good army...
Aleric: There are only 10,000 bodies.
Ciaphas: We can throw in a few thousand children to bring it up to 12,000.
GM: I'm scared to ask my players alignment.

Atolucus: Fighters are stupid.
Ciaphas: Who says fighters are stupid?
Aleric: Everyone.

Aleric: I have a thought
Atolucus: So that's where the smoke is coming from.

We sell the bodies to the Winter Court
Aleric: This won't end well.
Torm: It doesn't matter what we do, it doesn't end well.
Atolucus: But this way we make a profit, though.