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The DM should've stood his ground. I've put up with this crap from players before. Here's how it normally goes when I'm in charge.
Me: "And a hobgoblin teleports in."
Player: "What? A shaman can't do that! It says right here in--"
Me: *Slap!*
Player: "Ow! I--"
Me: *Slap!* "What's wrong with you!"
Player: "I just--"
Me: *Smack!* *Smack!* "You contradicted me, bitch! You contradicted the DUNGEON MASTER! I have the Viking hat! I am the master; you are the bitch! What are you?!
Player: "I--"
Me: *Slap!* "What are you?!" *Slap!*
Player: *Sobbing.* "Bitch! I'm the bitch!"
Me: "Yeah, that's right!" *Slap!* "And who am I! Say my name! Say my name, bitch!" *Smack!*
And so on, until in the player's mind it is very clear that *I'm* running the game, not three-hundred pages of recycled paper and second-rate art. I usually follow up my master-bitch sessions with a sort of symbolic mounting and rutting ritual. As I've said before, if it can work for those monkeys with the candy-colored asses, it can work for gamers.
Yeah, the DM fucked up by rearranging the game, but I'd be pretty damn pissed off if someone started citing line and verse in an attempt to contradict me in the middle of a game.
I can just see him now, holding up the book with his Cheetos-stained hands, spitting out the last syllable of "no thuch thpellth available to thhamanth" so that little flecks of saliva and popcorn land on my blazer as he engages in some twisted power-play for status as alpha geek. If that's what was going on, I'm not surprised that the DM got so pissed off he engaged in some massive screwage. The DM doesn't design games so you can slap your dick on the table trying to contradict him.
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Kyle Marquis, seething with impotent fury
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