Most scarring thing you've done to your players

[Urslingen]

*Disregard, I suck at posting*

[Slipperychicken]

Throw a rust monster at a bunch of low level players. Easiest way to make the barbarian/fighter/paladin/cleric hate the DM at that level.

Yeah.. Going from your 2d6+(1.5xStr) Greatsword to 1d4+Str makes a lot of difference at low levels, even before you consider that weapon cost like half your WBL, and you provoke AoOs for trying to kick the Rust monster because you probably don't have a backup.

So that's why Clubs exist! Free and non-metal, so you can fight Rust Monsters! I know what my next melee character is going to have at all times...

[Dr.Epic]

Yeah.. Going from your 2d6+(1.5xStr) Greatsword to 1d4+Str makes a lot of difference at low levels, even before you consider that weapon cost like half your WBL, and you provoke AoOs for trying to kick the Rust monster because you probably don't have a backup.

I once had the idea to add templates to a rust monster so this annoying creature can annoy the party at any level without the wizard just nuking it with one spell they can cast a few more times each day: rust monster half dragons FTW!!!

So that's why Clubs exist! Free and non-metal, so you can fight Rust Monsters! I know what my next melee character is going to have at all times...

Yeah, I thought of this. That's why I once made a dwarf barbarian who carried...

-a goliath greathammer
-a great axe
-a club
-about 30 daggers

So I'd be ready for just about any combat situation.

[Slipperychicken]

-about 30 daggers

Why not javelins or spears?


EDIT: Well, okay, 30lb of carry capacity can make a difference if you go all-out looting.

[Pokonic]

Well, there was the Screaming City:

A city in which a madman fleshcrafted a entire city out of a already-existing cities population, resulting in "normal" buildings under a living carpet of meat. Now, unlike most meat-carpets, you could still see individual people. You might see a exposed half-a-face, or get your legs grabbed by a arm. Sometimes someone would try to talk to the party, but they mostly sang and screamed.

Of course, when the party killed the freakesh abomination in the center, the place died.

But then they had to come back ten levels later because a necromancer was taking advantage of the place, but they later found out the original gestalt abomination sorta-lived in the sewers, meat living and all. They managed to convince it to help, but only after getting a powerful mind-altering magical item in the cities former magical center before it could attempt to take back its dead flesh.

The necromancer was killed by the party on the way to the magical center, but not before dealing with a living sea of undead, leathery flesh. They never did give the old fleshy sewerbound monstrocity the magical object, but that's what it wanted. Because opening the gates on old magical school was never breached by the beast even in the old days, and thanks to the party it can slither up from the sewers and have access to enough magic to basicly spread itself across the world. The party does not know this yet.

Spoiler

Show

And, yes, I have played Maddness Returns.

[Urslingen]

Well, there was the Screaming City:

That is pretty messed up. I like it. Nice work!

I think the best, scarring scene I have held was during the prologue-session of a campaign of Werewolf: The Apocalypse.

It's a bit long, but I don't think I could have done the scene any justice otherwise. The PC sure made an awesome job of playing along.

Spoiler

Show

This scene took place before the PC:s First Change. The PC was a young, streetwise gal from Southern Bronx. Her mother was a low-end stripper, and the PC mostly kept out of home due to her mothers often violent boyfriends. Her closest friend was this little red-haired, thin limbed girl, Sasha. She was a bit younger and loyally followed the PC wherever she went, making the PC something of a bigger sister for her.

One early evening they were doing some urban exploration near one of many abandoned warehouses around Harlem. The PC easily navigated fences and other obstacles, but Sasha often lagged behind and finally they had to stop since Sasha couldn’t make the jump from the warehouse roof to the next building. They climbed down into the alley. A few mattresses and empty needles lay strewn among the trash which the PC:s excitedly examined. After a few minutes Sasha scraped her foot against the ground and asked, with a hesitant and a little bit embarrassed voice if the PC “… have ever been… you know… in love, before…”.
“Well, like… I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, I don’t know… how the hell do you tell, really?” The PC answered, trying to her best to keep her street-smart image intact.
“Well…”, Sasha was now visibly trembling, and her voice became a bit shaky, “… I think I might be… you know…”. She turned around towards the PC and took a tentative step towards her.
“Yeah...?”
Sasha took another, nervous step forward. She looked at her shoes as she continued.
“I… I like you… and I hoped that maybe you… that maybe… you liked me to… but it’s okay if you don’t because I… I…”

This rather self-conscious proclamation of love was interrupted by footsteps, and a faint chuckling. A man in a slick, black suit and a grey turtleneck emerged from behind the corner further down the alley. His wore a fancy, silver watch on his wrist, his hair was meticulously combed and a big grin of likewise obviously bleached teeth covered his face. He was certainly not a local.

“Well hi, girls… surprised to see you here. You shouldn’t play around with those needles and stuff, you know. Never know where they have been…”. His grin broadened even more as he pulled out an expensive cigarette box from his pocket. “Any of you girls want a smoke? ”. The PC warily took the cigarette while Sasha nervously peeked from behind her back.

The man introduced himself as “Mr. Spitz”. He was waiting for “a few buddies” of his who should show up any minute now. “We’re going to have a little get-together, nothing big; a little party with pals is all. Say – you girls wouldn’t be interested in tagging along? There will be plenty of drink, and the guys sure would appreciate the company. The more the merrier, right?”

“Well… Sure, why not?” The PC said, a little hesitantly, trying to sound older than she was. “Where’s the party going to be? Your place?”

Spitz grin broadened even more, looking like he was trying to swallow his own face. “Oh, I was thinking we could have the party right here. Guys!”

Out from another alley, behind the PC, came two new figures, pushing garbage cans and kicking trash out of the way.

“Hi, guys! Great you could make it! Girls, these are my friends: Mr. Daniels and Mr. Blue.”

“Mr. Daniels” was a short, wiry man in a jet black suit, red tie, and prickly, black hair. His face was pale and lean to the point of being skull-like. He giggled girlishly, frequently interrupted by some kind of facial tic, while constantly fiddling with his hands. “Mr. Blue” was a big, slightly overweight, man in a grey suit and green tie. His face was red as a tomato and he breathed heavily trough his nose, staring at the girls with wide-open eyes.

Before the PC had time to look back to Spitz he had darted forward, nailing the PC to the brick wall. Daniels and Blue launched themselves at the stunned Sasha, easily pinning her to the ground.

“Now you just be real quite, girl… No need to get all wound up, we’ll get to you soon enough...”

The PC could hear Sasha cry and scream for her, the sound intermingling with Mr. Daniels frenzied giggling while he tore at her clothes. Mr. Blue pinned her arms to the ground, his breathing even heavier as a big, worm-like vein started to throb at the side of his neck.

Spitz leaned in and whispered into the PC:s ear.

“I can tell you want it. I know you want it. Don’t worry; I’m going to give it to you when they’re finished with your little girlfriend. Tell you what; let’s watch it together, eh?”

He forcibly turned the PC around, locking her head with a throat-hold. He chuckled softly when the PC screamed and clawed at him, all the while Sasha begged the PC to save her.

When the PC woke up it was pitch black. The alley was covered in darkness and she lay naked on the ground amongst trash and something wet foul-smelling. The character had gone trough her First Change as a werewolf and massacred everyone in the alley. The PC blindly fumbled about in the alley until her eyes adjusted to the dim light, at which time she saw the tattered remain of a pair of jeans and an unmistakable scalp of red hair.

The player in question were not at all used to my "style" (if it can be called that) of Storytelling, but she picked it up quickly. To this day I don't know if I took things to far or not far enough. What do you guys think?

Peace Out.

- Urslingen

[Sith_Happens]

-snip-

You already posted this word-for-word back at the top of the page.

The player in question were not at all used to my "style" (if it can be called that) of Storytelling, but she picked it up quickly. To this day I don't know if I took things to far or not far enough. What do you guys think?

If she knew beforehand what she was getting into when she signed up for your Chronicle, then I'd say you hit the notes just right.

[North_Ranger]

Some pretty good stories here! Nice one, hiryuu!

I think the best, scarring scene I have held was during the prologue-session of a campaign of Werewolf: The Apocalypse.

It's a bit long, but I don't think I could have done the scene any justice otherwise. The PC sure made an awesome job of playing along.

Spoiler

Show

This scene took place before the PC:s First Change. The PC was a young, streetwise gal from Southern Bronx. Her mother was a low-end stripper, and the PC mostly kept out of home due to her mothers often violent boyfriends. Her closest friend was this little red-haired, thin limbed girl, Sasha. She was a bit younger and loyally followed the PC wherever she went, making the PC something of a bigger sister for her.

One early evening they were doing some urban exploration near one of many abandoned warehouses around Harlem. The PC easily navigated fences and other obstacles, but Sasha often lagged behind and finally they had to stop since Sasha couldn’t make the jump from the warehouse roof to the next building. They climbed down into the alley. A few mattresses and empty needles lay strewn among the trash which the PC:s excitedly examined. After a few minutes Sasha scraped her foot against the ground and asked, with a hesitant and a little bit embarrassed voice if the PC “… have ever been… you know… in love, before…”.
“Well, like… I don’t know. I guess so. I mean, I don’t know… how the hell do you tell, really?” The PC answered, trying to her best to keep her street-smart image intact.
“Well…”, Sasha was now visibly trembling, and her voice became a bit shaky, “… I think I might be… you know…”. She turned around towards the PC and took a tentative step towards her.
“Yeah...?”
Sasha took another, nervous step forward. She looked at her shoes as she continued.
“I… I like you… and I hoped that maybe you… that maybe… you liked me to… but it’s okay if you don’t because I… I…”

This rather self-conscious proclamation of love was interrupted by footsteps, and a faint chuckling. A man in a slick, black suit and a grey turtleneck emerged from behind the corner further down the alley. His wore a fancy, silver watch on his wrist, his hair was meticulously combed and a big grin of likewise obviously bleached teeth covered his face. He was certainly not a local.

“Well hi, girls… surprised to see you here. You shouldn’t play around with those needles and stuff, you know. Never know where they have been…”. His grin broadened even more as he pulled out an expensive cigarette box from his pocket. “Any of you girls want a smoke? ”. The PC warily took the cigarette while Sasha nervously peeked from behind her back.

The man introduced himself as “Mr. Spitz”. He was waiting for “a few buddies” of his who should show up any minute now. “We’re going to have a little get-together, nothing big; a little party with pals is all. Say – you girls wouldn’t be interested in tagging along? There will be plenty of drink, and the guys sure would appreciate the company. The more the merrier, right?”

“Well… Sure, why not?” The PC said, a little hesitantly, trying to sound older than she was. “Where’s the party going to be? Your place?”

Spitz grin broadened even more, looking like he was trying to swallow his own face. “Oh, I was thinking we could have the party right here. Guys!”

Out from another alley, behind the PC, came two new figures, pushing garbage cans and kicking trash out of the way.

“Hi, guys! Great you could make it! Girls, these are my friends: Mr. Daniels and Mr. Blue.”

“Mr. Daniels” was a short, wiry man in a jet black suit, red tie, and prickly, black hair. His face was pale and lean to the point of being skull-like. He giggled girlishly, frequently interrupted by some kind of facial tic, while constantly fiddling with his hands. “Mr. Blue” was a big, slightly overweight, man in a grey suit and green tie. His face was red as a tomato and he breathed heavily trough his nose, staring at the girls with wide-open eyes.

Before the PC had time to look back to Spitz he had darted forward, nailing the PC to the brick wall. Daniels and Blue launched themselves at the stunned Sasha, easily pinning her to the ground.

“Now you just be real quite, girl… No need to get all wound up, we’ll get to you soon enough...”

The PC could hear Sasha cry and scream for her, the sound intermingling with Mr. Daniels frenzied giggling while he tore at her clothes. Mr. Blue pinned her arms to the ground, his breathing even heavier as a big, worm-like vein started to throb at the side of his neck.

Spitz leaned in and whispered into the PC:s ear with a wet, hot breath.

“I can tell you want it. I know you want it. Don’t worry; I’m going to give it to you when they’re finished with your little girlfriend. Tell you what; let’s watch it together, eh?”

He forcibly turned the PC around, locking her head with a throat-hold. He chuckled softly when the PC screamed and clawed at him, all the while Sasha begged the PC to save her.

When the PC woke up it was pitch black. The alley was covered in darkness and she lay naked on the ground amongst trash and something wet foul-smelling. The character had gone trough her First Change as a werewolf and massacred everyone in the alley. The PC blindly fumbled about in the alley until her eyes adjusted to the dim light, at which time she saw the tattered remain of a pair of jeans and an unmistakable scalp of red hair.

The player in question were not at all used to my "style" of Storytelling, but she jumped on the train quickly. To this day I don't know if I took things to far or not far enough. What do you guys think?

Peace Out.

- Urslingen

... That... That is probably some of the scariest, mind-breakingest s*it I've ever read. Kudos, sir. Kudos.

[Morph Bark]

My players (well, two of my current ones) once fought a couple of golems, including an emerald golem that could make green teleportation circles. One of the players accidentally fell on one and was teleported to another location, with the rest of the party soon following.

To this day, one of them (well, the other too somewhat) still have bad reactions when I just say "green circles".

The others have mainly encountered some small things, but nothing major that causes such reactions.

[Dr.Epic]

Why not javelins or spears?


EDIT: Well, okay, 30lb of carry capacity can make a difference if you go all-out looting.

My dwarf barbarian could have carried it.

[Karoht]

Steve the Aboleth.

You mean Steve the Aboleth AND his initial lesser incarnation in a swamp full of "Tucker's Kobolds" inspired Orcs.
Which the party still complains about, what, 3 years later?
And has an unnaturally paranoid fear of all things related to swamps?
Yeah.

[lerg2]

Not yet, but I'm planning a terror campaign for next halloween. However, I suck at picking music, so help would be appreciated. Anyway, after my campaign they will be terrified of small pieces of RL paper.

*edit, I need to work on my paragraph structure*

[Grim Portent]

I haven't tried this yet but I'm planning a shameless rip off of James Herbert's novel Rats, going to start by making the PCs choose to try and defend a marketplace full of innocent NPCs or run to avoid a risk of death, the screams of the innocent ringing in their ears (with suitably gory death descriptions for any character, player or otherwise, who is killed by the rats). Followed by a claustrophobic search through rat infested streets and sewers to help the rat-catchers guild and city guard find out why the rats are swamping the city and are being so aggressive. Final boss will be a were-rat Vermin Lord.

Sample of the sort of descriptions I'll use follows:

'As you proceed through the dank sewer tunnels, the light of your torches casting unpleasant shadows upon the walls, you come upon a scene of carnage. Bodies clad in the tattered uniforms of the city guard litter the ground, shredded and gnawed, in places the pale white of bone pokes through their torn flesh. Slumped against the far wall you see a figure in the clothing of a rat-catcher. His left leg is severed below the knee, a mere trailing scrap of tissue. His eyes have been plucked from their sockets, his cheeks chewed away. His body twitches and writhes as if in agony. With a wet rip a hole opens in his abdomen and a pointed, bloodstained head pushes it's way out. The rat glares at you, a hunk of it's victims flesh still clutched in it's teeth. It swallows and pulls itself out of the ruined corpse. More follow from the hole it left in the body and yet more rats pour from the other corpses. As the tide of rats swarm forward you hear distant screams echo through the tunnels, a sign that yours is not the only patrol to be facing such peril.'

While I still have details to work out before doing this, I would appreciate any tips on making it more unsettling.

[Fates]

When my players were searching for a tavern, I had the paladin find the Throbbing Rooster, a gay bar full of Spellscales, who immediately began hitting on him. I was worried it might offend my homosexual players, but they laughed hardest of all. We all had a good bit of fun, though the paladin was wary of any spellscales he met thereafter.

[Pokonic]

Also, there was that one time the players entered the Balelands.

Now, before I actualy discribe the balelands, one needs to learn about bale crystal: a green, jagged substance, wounds gained by it do not heal right. Now, the subtance is highly, highly tied to the negitive energy plane, and creatures who die of it tend to revive as a zombie.

The Balelands are a miles-wide stretch of land covered in jagged outcrops of the stuff. Also, it's volcanic.


Now, no one can say that the nameless crag in the earth was opened by demon worshipers (Orcus is the usualy suspect). No matter the cause, no one can say that the place is not something out of the lower planes: the unbearable heat, the constant flickering blue-green flames just out of reach, the undead, the ground itself....


To put it bluntly, even Undeath is twisted to it's natural conclusions here. Zombies, after shreding there feet in patchs of bale crystal, tend to have chunks stuck to them: this empowers them to nigh-immortality thanks to the shear necromantic energy the rock gives off. Sentinent undead are even worse, with ghouls having makeshift weapons made solely of the stuff. Magic users can even use the ambient energy to power there spells, and the rock proper gives spells Vile damage when used in it.


That's not even getting to the Baleflame Beasts. As it turns out, Fire is still a viable way to kill undead in these cursed lands. However, the crystal heals undead. The result is a few bones floating in mid-air, bathed in a rich yellow-green flame that does nasty things to those who would dare to so much as touch it. One such creature, a former Stone Giant who ended up being a semi-molten mid-boss for the group, nearly killed the party by itself.



But oh, thats not getting to the Dragon.


You see, there was a dragon around when the lands where created, and it shows the signs of it. You see, shards of the crystal embeded themselves into it's scales, and it's former acidic breath turned into a horrific necromantic brew that literaly ignites souls. That, combined with it living in a cave filled with terrible lungs-distroying smoke, makes it the most feared creature in the wastes.


Then it was learned that the creature was brooding over a batch of eggs. That, and the beraggled undead creatures slowly orginizing themselves, with a potent lich at there helm, forced the party to make a trip into a place where there is literaly no hope.

[Sudain]

Spoilered for length.
And then there was the time they had to kill a crippled little girl's dad in front of her because a Balor had possessed him (he was an innocent man, but he had been wounded with a demonic blade). A few minutes later, they learned that most of the village had been wounded by the blade, and had to kill the villagers off one by one as they were possessed and no attempt to safely exorcise them worked. They try to explain things to the little girl, but she runs off and they never find her.

Years later, an entire country is being ravaged by demons and disease, and the PCs have to confront the source of it all-the little girl, all grown up, her missing arm replaced with a skeletal graft, sitting in a throne suspended over a volcano, staring hatefully at them through her one good eye while she ignores the burns the heat is causing her and summons one certain Balor...

I love you for this story.

[hymer]

@ Portent: After that little speech, the jaded player, impatiently holding up his d20, ask "So now can I roll for initiative?" and another chimes in "I already rolled mine, I'm just waiting to lift the shaker."
These guys would be listening to the descriptions of the innocent NPCs being killed in the market square, thinking it's a pat on the back for getting the hell out of there, not something meant to affect them.

@ Pokonic: I'm still waiting for how this was supposed to scar the players.

@ the both of you: I guess I'm just jaded.

[Tengu_temp]

Semi-military/law enforcement game in a world operating on Reverse Clarke's Third Law*:
The PCs are in the middle of a tough fight and it looks like they're going to lose. Suddenly, a mysterious figure comes to their help, and judging by the magic it uses, it's very likely it's a certain canon character beloved by both the players and their characters! Everyone is elated.
Nope. When the dust settles, it turns out to be their creepy middle-aged commanding officer whose main hobby seems to be stalking and vaguely hitting on the PCs (most of the characters are female). And for extra "fanservice", his combat armor is topless. The players threaten to kill me. I laugh. Good times.

* - or Nanoha, if you're familiar with the show/setting.

[Admiral Squish]

My DM is quite cruel. We're playing a Percy Jackson-based game, where each of us played as a demigod. In one of our adventures, we were eaten by chronos and sent back to December 6, 1941, the day before pearl harbor. We ended up foiling this nazi guy's plans and got pulled back to our own time. It was then revealed that because we had foiled his plans, we inadvertently caused the worst part of the holocaust.

[Sith_Happens]

My DM is quite cruel. We're playing a Percy Jackson-based game, where each of us played as a demigod. In one of our adventures, we were eaten by chronos and sent back to December 6, 1941, the day before pearl harbor. We ended up foiling this nazi guy's plans and got pulled back to our own time. It was then revealed that because we had foiled his plans, we inadvertently caused the worst part of the holocaust.

For the life of me I can't decide whether that sort of occurrence is befitting the source material. It's definitely befitting the source material's source material...

[Admiral Squish]

For the life of me I can't decide whether that sort of occurrence is befitting the source material. It's definitely befitting the source material's source material...

Oh, and while we were in the past, we got sworn on the river styx to let what has to happen happen. So, we were forced to let this DMPC's girlfriend, who was the original oracle at camp, be cursed and then die. Which explained why said DMPC, our counselor, kinda hated us since we first arrived.

Also, I don't know if this counts as 'scarring', but my brother joked about his character peeing himself in fright without noting he was OOC (the rule is you have to touch your head in some way with your hand to speak OOC) and now he has to make a fortitude save every time he is frightened... or sleeps... or is struck in the stomach. There was a memorable moment where he crit-failed after getting hit in the gut with a dodgeball and explosively evacuated his bowel and bladder, spraying a good 10 foot area around him with waste. RIGHT after that a boss fight started, his pants still fouled. His first action in combat was to fall to his knees and plead, weeping, to apollo, begging for his divine father to, and I quote, "CLEAN MY PANTS!" When asked why he would ask for that and not aid in the coming battle, he replied "I DON'T WANT TO DIE WITH CRAP IN MY PANTS!"

[DigoDragon]

One of the most scarring things I did to my players occured in a Shadowrun campaign. They were hired by a Mrs. Johnson to investigate the murder of her father, a retired surgeon named Dr. Gregory M. Lucky.
He retired to a nice comfy mansion on a private island. Being the middle of winter, it was difficult getting there with the weather going sour and a snow storm coming through.

Spoiler

Show

Upon arrival, not only did the runner team find that the doctor was still alive, but that several runners, Johnsons, and even a Lone Star cop were invited. The doctor treated everyone to dinner, whereas the power went out in the middle of dessert and something murdered the old man before the runners got out their flashlights.

The players were quite sure I just set them up to a game of "Clue".

Naturally the runner team began listing their suspects among the ranks of everyone here at the mansion, trying to find motive. However, one by one these people were getting picked off and whoever the murderer was began defying explanation, such as disappearing at dead end halls.

Now it's turning less Clue and more Silent Hill to them. They wanted to just leave the mansion, but the blizzard passing through wouldn't make that a comfortable prospect.
Finally the players started piecing things together when they managed to dig up their past files through their commlinks and digging through Dr. Lucky's personal computer--

These other invited guests all worked with Dr. Lucky years ago on a classified Ares Space project called "Zazoo".

Then the team street sam got a wiff of what was attacking them when it went after one of the Johnsons. It was small and furry and was using the air ducts to get around the mansion. Ah ha! It has to be Dr. Lucky's dog! They lured it out with a trap and using Dr. Lucky's maid as bait.
Then got hit with a shock.

They only found the dog's skin.

"It" was something not of this planet.

It was too fast to properly identify, but it was something like a small snake with hind legs, two flexible tails, big glossy black eyes, and teeth. Oh gawd the teeth! It attacked the party and the remaining guests, trying to physically dig into one of the NPC via his gut.

The Street Sam threw a grenade at it, blowing it up (and the master bedroom. and the victim), but that did save the few remaining people and the team.

Cops showed up after the storm lifted (The runners called them to report the murders and had enough evidence to NOT implicate themselves to anything. I know, big shock). Turns out all these other invited NPCs were wanted by Ares for various criminal charges. The PCs left and hooked back up with their original Mrs. Johnson to complain about the mess they were involved in. Johnson doubled their pay and gave them an encrypted data chip.

After hacking it, the Players later learend that Project Zazoo was research into extra-terrestrial life. The project ended on the line "Inconclusive, but we are not alone."

No player ever liked running at mansions since then.

Throw a rust monster at a bunch of low level players. Easiest way to make the barbarian/fighter/paladin/cleric hate the DM at that level.

I had an evil wizard once enlarge a normal cockroach to Rust Monster size and then glue some antennae to it. Chased the PCs down half the dungeon before they figured it out XD

[Orsen]

The thing I have done that I'm not sure my players will ever forgive me for is kill dogs. It wasn't my choice. Paizo keeps killing off dogs in their adventures and I just read what I'm told to. Sometimes we have moments of silence for them, especially if some of the players real dogs are in the room.

[Sith_Happens]

Paizo keeps killing off dogs in their adventures

Surely this evil cannot go unpunished.

[PJ Garrison]

Paizo keeps killing off dogs in their adventures

Oh man, I had a girlfriend chew my ass out because I killed her character's pet cats. I needed something to die, and I figured they'd be expendable...

I was wrong.

[Dread Angel]

I was running a solo game for a buddy of mine a couple years back. We were both 20 years old at the time, and have known each other for years.

For plot reasons, he was following a rather uniquely cool undead NPC, without his knowledge.

He ended up entering a small village, and it promptly went Silent Hill on him. Nothing at the edge of town...just an endless abyss. I began flexing my long-unused horror-game muscles, and I was in fine form that night.

He ended up finding various pieces of a child's skull in various places....after dealing with all kinds of rather disturbing ****. The whole point of that minicampaign was for him to test a build he'd come up with, and we used it as an exercise to see how well I can improvise an entire game with no notes, preparation beforehand, and still keep the plot intact and logical.

There were many, many unpleasant Silent Hill type things for him, but nothing got to him quite as much as having to tote around bits of a four year old's skull, then piece them together, slot the skull into the space where the rest of the child's skeleton was embedded in a fountain...which promptly starting flowing with the child's blood while revealing the stairwell down.

He had to slog through an inch-deep flow of child's blood down into a dungeon.

And his character had an aversion to shoes.

He STILL talks about that.

[Grimsage Matt]

My players know one thing about me (my RL players anyway). They would rather face something from the lightless depths of Kyber, a Ancient Demon lord from the bottom of the abyss, a Primevil god-Monster, then face my favorite monster.

Fear the Pugs, it won't save your life, but it might just erase your mind first....

[Noedig]

More along the line of 'done to me' than done to my players, but one time a DM had my guy's limbs sawed off with a hacksaw. That was unpleasant.

[Diarmuid]

I dont have a lot of DM experience so I havent done much scarring, but my DM has scarred me pretty badly.

Worst example was in a GURPs Supers game where out group was being mentored by Batman to become a supergroup based in Philidelphia. This was occurring during the GM's Hush storyline.

I managed to piss Hush off pretty bad so he made it his maniacal goal to ruin me in every way possible. The worst was to have Clayface pretend to be a hottie I seduced and collected my "specimen". Clayface then used that "specimen" while pretending to be me and raping this same girl. After having his way with her, they then set the building on fire knowing I would come to help (it was my apartment building and Hush had figured out my identity due to some bad moves on my part). So I go in, see her in that state and of course save her...and a week later my real identity is being brought up on Rape and possible Arson charges,

Throughout the rest of that game, my character only trusted his one friend (a Daredevil type guy with radar) who could identify people by their heartbeat.

[PairO'Dice Lost]

I haven't done anything particularly scarring to my players in terms of horror, but I do have a few running themes in my games that really get to my players.

One example is the chanting spellcasters: In the first campaign I ran with my college group, one particular NPC faction had lots of caster minions and their schtick was that they all had some means of increasing their spell power by increasing casting time--the channeled X line of spells, stacking Delay Spell'd or Repeat Spell'd spells for a big boom, spelldancing, storing up spell levels and releasing them all at once, and so on. Whenever they did this, I just described them as chanting, as in "Okay, next up, the man in the red robes. He...begins chanting. Next!" Since every time the party ignored one of those chanters resulted in some serious pain on their part, they got to the point where whenever I described someone as chanting they immediately prioritized them as a target.

The next campaign involved the same faction at one point since they were a multiverse-spanning organization and had a presence on practically every plane. Again, the few times the party ran into this organization's groups, they focus-fired the chanting mage or else they'd be in for a world of hurt.

Next campaign. The party is high level, they walk into a fairly low-level city, the town guard has a priest there asking travelers their business, and when the priest starts casting zone of truth I said "He begins chanting the words of a prayer, asking his deity to reveal the truth of your words." This guy had no relation to the organization whatsoever, but I didn't get past "He begins chanting" before the party blaster opened up on the poor 3rd-level cleric with a meteor swarm followed by a belt of battle'd second meteor swarm, yelling "CHANT THIS, MOTHER******!!"

Goodbye cleric, surrounding guards, and entire gatehouse. Goodbye party's warm welcome in the town. The best part? That city didn't actually have any members of that particular organization in it and they actually had a fairly small presence on that Material Plane, but they were known to be particularly good at killing or capturing casters, and a bunch of the people in the city had just seen a crazy caster murder an innocent, so their recruitment for that quarter went up several hundred percent.

Another running theme:

When my players were searching for a tavern, I had the paladin find the Throbbing Rooster, a gay bar full of Spellscales, who immediately began hitting on him. I was worried it might offend my homosexual players, but they laughed hardest of all. We all had a good bit of fun, though the paladin was wary of any spellscales he met thereafter.

I like to include a tavern in more cosmopolitan cities called the Flaming Dwarf, complete with rainbow lettering on the sign, suggestive drink names, the logo of a dwarf with golden-skinned bare muscled chest, the whole bit. When the PCs walk in, they find the bartender is...a gruff azer, a literal "flaming" dwarf. He's been running his bar for a while but he never did get the hang of Material Plane humor--he doesn't see why people find the drink names amusing, he thinks rainbow colors are perfectly sensible for decor (burning different metals is a good way to brighten up the Plane of Fire, after all), he doesn't understand why groups of men and women will drink together instead of hanging out with the opposite sex, and so on.