I just remember the time I was playing my evil cleric in a campaign, we had just leveled up and I just got access to the spell Death Touch. I was itching to try it on something but the rest of the party (all good guys) was being super extra cautious as usual, despite everyone being a min-maxed fucking monster and shouldn’t be flinching from fighting, and somehow my character was left alone with the NPC that was feeding us our quests.

“I cast death touch on the old man.”

“…Are you sure?”

I glance at my notes checking the goals given to me by my own God, from the DM at the very first session. He knows I am evil, he encouraged me to play this character because he fucking loves him for some reason, and had tasked me with just causing chaos as a follower of Cyric does.

“Fuck yeah I’m sure.”

I assume he was only warning me because this dude should have been super high level, but I was also a min-maxed monster and had a +31 charisma bonus. And he rolled a 1 on the saving throw.

“You touch the old man and he screams sharply before cumpling to the ground like a sack of bricks.”

“Do we hear that?” Says our Lawful Stupid paladin who has been metagaming the entire time to try and out me as being evil.

“Yes.”

“I sprint back to see what’s going on.”

Several failed sense motive checks on his part later,

“I’m telling you, he just had a heart attack or something.”