"Stop being so antagonistic. It's like you enjoy tormenting us."
"Fine," he shouted, clearly offended. "You be the Dungeon Master."
"I don't want to be the Dungeon Master," he shot back. "I want to play a character in a wonderful, fantastical world, and go on adventures that aid the growth and development of the entire party."
Arms crossed. Eyes glared with frustration, resentment. The other players were obviously uncomfortable with the confrontation that had been brewing ever since the raid that slaughtered all those kobolds. All for what, to raze the grove so a Barron could expand his wall? Someone had to finally stand up for the group.
"Instead, you want us to sit around taverns and inns, awaiting stupid orders to serve some dumb Lord. You give us these impossible missions where everyone winds up dead or so injured that they can't or don't want to continue anymore. The stories you tell are impossible to believe and aren't fun at all. Your non-player characters aren't believable, either."
The DM looked as though he wanted to rage, but the hack-n-slash continued upon the stunned and paralyzed beast. "You force us into situations where we have to compromise our pantheon, alignment, or reputation just in order to survive. You don't listen to our concerns or give us any motivation to keep coming here. And then you just laugh about it! It's like you're drunk on power."
There was a long pause, as if a Paladin was sizing up the mortally wounded dragon about to be slain. The Elf Cleric, Orc Ranger, Dwarf Fighter, Halfling Rogue, and Gnome Mage all spied with anticipation. It had been a long, intensely brutal fight.
"We would also like to see the savings throws you claim we fail, yet you won't allow us to see the dice results from behind your screen. We do not believe you."
No one saw Jesse anymore after that. The party found a new Dungeon Master from the local gaming club who was an excellent storyteller. The campaign is ongoing and enjoyable for all. They accept walk-on players who share their vision and values.
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