In the grand tapestry of tabletop roleplaying games, the brightest threads aren’t always the heroic victories. More often, the stories we tell and retell, the ones that make us cry with laughter years later, are the catastrophic failures. The unmitigated, party-wiping, “what-were-you-thinking” blunders.
I stumbled upon a classic Quora thread asking a simple question: “In your Dungeons and Dragons experience, what was your or one of your character/player’s worst blunder?” The answers are a hall-of-fame-worthy collection of bad decisions, terrible luck, and glorious chaos.
We’ve curated some of the best highlights for your reading pleasure. Unless, that is, you’re in the mood for a picture book experience in which Geek Native’s old famous last words might suit.
Table of blunders
The Hay-Filled Chimney
Every adventurer knows fire is a useful tool. But as Doyen Rainey recounts, context is everything.
The party was stealthily infiltrating a necromancer’s 4-story stone tower. After clearing the upper floors, they found a stone stairwell leading down to the pitch-black ground floor. What lay in the dark? 40 ghouls? A wagonload of mercenaries?
Hearing nothing, Doyen’s character had a bright idea: “I toss my torch down the stairs.”
The DM’s “uncomfortably long pause” said it all. As Doyen explains:
“Ooooo-kay. Well, the torchlight reveals that the first floor is a big, open room, where a large group of mercenaries might sleep during the day. Lucky for you, they’re currently on a mission. However, the mercenaries sleep on hay. The entire first floor is one huge room, containing a thick fluffy layer of hay, which is now on fire.”
The stealth mission instantly turned into a “clusterfuffle” as the stone tower became a 40-foot chimney, with the party racing to the roof to escape being cooked alive.
The “Teleporter” That Wasn’t
Sometimes, a player’s curiosity is the most dangerous thing at the table. Henry Stevens tells a grimly hilarious tale from the Underdark.
The party found a “curious site”: a series of stones forming a cage around absolutely nothing. After an Arcana check yielded no results, Henry’s warlock touched it, and it flashed blue. “We’ve found a teleporter,” he thought.
What followed was a comedy of errors as his “coward” character tested the device:
- He got an NPC cohort to stand in the centre and activated it. The man disappeared.
- Realising the man might not be able to operate it from the other side, he sent a note through.
- Wondering if the man could read, he sent a party member—the barbarian—through.
- He realised too late that the barbarian also couldn’t read.
- Finally, he sent the cleric through “to sort the whole mess out.”
The DM, having had enough, informed the cleric his character was dead. As Henry recalls:
“The fighter looked over, saw the device, and said, ‘That’s a sphere of annihilation.'”
In one fell swoop, the warlock had wiped out the last cohort and half the party.
The Wizard Who Burned More Than a Troll
This one is a masterclass in unintended consequences, submitted by Jens Adler Nielsen.
A wizard, hungry for fame, was hunting a troll that was stealing babies from local villages. The party tracked it to a cave. The wizard’s “excellent” plan? “Time to fireball the troll!”
He launched the spell, hoping to hit it with damage it couldn’t regenerate and force it out.
“And that is exactly what happened. It was an easy fight. My wizard was mighty pleased with himself, trying to push the group for the nickname Trollburner.”
The good feeling didn’t last. As they explored the cave for loot, they made a horrifying discovery. The troll hadn’t been eating the babies. It had been adopting them.
“My wizard had just burned about 30 babies to ash. Obviously, for the rest of his natural life, my wizard had the nickname babyburner.”
Ouch.
The Zealot’s Final, Illogical Stand
Some characters are just too stubborn for their own good. José Manuel Muñiz Herrera shares the story of a paladin who was the definition of zealotry.
The party was facing a celestial entity summoned by the BBEG. This entity began to mimic the party members. When it took the form of the paladin, the paladin did what he always does: he attacked.
“When cut, it does not bleed, nor suffer the wound. In fact, the wound appears on the paladin himself, who starts bleeding from the arm!”
The paladin stops. He thinks. He hits it again, slowly. The same thing happens—another cut appears on his own body. The table watched, waiting. Surely, he’d figured it out.
“After a long pause he looks up from the table with a triumphant smile. He has figured it out… ‘I cut off it’s head!’ — yells the paladin…
‘No need’ — I answer, plainly — ‘…The rest of the party watches helplessly from the treeline as your head leaves your shoulders, and your body falls headless to the ground.'”
The sound of the collective facepalm, José notes, was probably audible in-game.
The Triple-Crit Face-Punch
Sometimes, the dice just want to make fun of you. John Rippen tells of a player with a magical adamantine spiked gauntlet who loved smashing through barriers like the Kool-Aid Man.
The party found a pair of ancient, heavily runed iron doors that resisted all attempts to damage them. Rocks tossed at them bounced back energetically. This player, of course, decided to punch them.
- He rolls to hit. Natural 20.
- He rolls to confirm the critical. Natural 20. (A house rule meant this increased the multiplier).
- He rolls damage for his 3x crit. He rolls “very high.”
The player was ecstatic, believing he’d just shattered the barrier. The DM, however, knew what the magic-reflecting doors really did.
“I lift my head up from my hands, and I deadpan ‘You take twice that much damage as your fist rebounds from the door and you punch your own self in the face. The door is undamaged.'”
The blow came within a few HP of killing the character outright.
How Not to Impress a Dragon
Our final highlight, from Adam Sean Abdullah Fennessy, is a reminder that not all blunders happen in combat.
The level 4 party was meeting a contact for the Zhentarim (Thieves’ Guild). A female half-elf sits down, buys them a round, and offers the party a favour.
“Me (The Wizard) : Barges into conversation and asks if she could gain access or acquire dragon eggs. (My Wizard was a researcher…)”
A perfectly innocent (if morally dubious) academic question. Right?
“Turns out this half elf was a polymorphed Ancient Bronze Dragon, and I essentially asked her if she could traffick dragon eggs. You can see where this is going….”
What followed was:
- “Eyes of Disgust”
- A flipped table
- The barbarian getting “punched in the chest and flies straight across the room”
- The party forcing the wizard to spend 3/4 of his gold creating an apology offering.
The full thread is a goldmine, featuring tales of rangers grappling Strahd (and getting level-drained to 0), warriors rolling three consecutive 1s against a Gelatinous Cube (and getting “swallowed”), and DMs accidentally creating DMPCs so overpowered they had to be killed off with “bad fish.”
These blunders are the lifeblood of the game. They’re the moments that break the tension, forge new (and often ridiculous) character nicknames, and remind us that even the grandest plans can be undone by a single stick of dynamite… or a hay-filled room.
What about you? What’s the absolute worst, most memorable blunder you’ve ever witnessed or caused at the gaming table? Share your shame in the comments below!
