Chapter 6 - Toilet Pizza

I say that I "worked" at Michael's Magic, but in reality I had fewer real responsibilities than the activities director on the Love Boat. I jockeyed the register quite a bit, but the store wasn't the kind of place where the counter had to be manned at all times. In fact, for minor purchases of soda, bottled water, or snack-size chips you could just take what you wanted and leave change near the register. I would sometimes host weekly CCG tournaments, but I was often playing in them anyway, so all I had to do was keep a score sheet. Restocking was a little bit of Christmas every time the mail arrived, because I had first crack at all the new RPG supplements right out of the distributors' shipments. I took the trash out before closing: mainly aluminum cans, Taco Bell wrappers and pizza boxes, which nearest approximates the closest I ever approached to real work in the entire day, but otherwise I think I was there mainly to ensure that nobody brazenly stole anything.

There was one other thing I had to do to earn my keep, ostensibly on a weekly basis but really whenever Mike got annoyed with me: cleaning out the bathroom. I always called it "mucking out the stall" because after a hundred gamers nourished on little but Dr. Pepper and Taco Bell have spent a week collectively defiling the bathroom, the place was filthier than Jabba the Hutt's armpits. I won't claim that gamers are any more disgusting than any other group-- say, drunks, soccer hooligans, or rage-infected monkeys (but then, I'm being redundant)-- but I can tell you from years of cleaning up after them that gamers are a pack of odious swine one step up on the evolutionary ladder from picking their assholes in public.

I'm not sure where it comes from, this complete disregard for washroom cleanliness. Gamers tend to be rather fastidious, especially boardgamers. We like to organize our books on shelves, sort our collectible fantasy miniatures in plastic bins and tackle boxes, bag and board our comics, sort the pieces of our board games by color and function in tiny plastic bags that we have to make special trips to the craft store to find, and put thousands of collectible cards in individual protective sleeves., yet every time I cleaned that bathroom it was like the floor of a Chilean hospital for cholera patients. We boast of our superior hand-eye coordination granted by decades of videogames, yet hitting the water in a toilet bowl continues to be a deceptively hard task for some.

I admit that I'm being a little unfair. I'm not trying to put forward a stereotype that gamers are a particularly filthy bunch. It's probably no different from any other public building. I'm simply speaking for the vast majority of game store bathrooms I've visited: yikes. You imagine the bathroom nightmare, and short of cleaning up afterbirth, I've done it all. Every store has some jackass who loves to stuff entire rolls of toilet paper into the bowl and flush. People have sprayed piss all over the walls, sink, and mirror like their dick was an out-of-control fire hose. Someone smeared taco diarhhoea on the walls after only half-filling the toilet, trailing shit over the seat. Mike even installed a urinal once and someone left his piss foaming in it for two weeks before the plumbing was hooked up to it. You might think it was an honest mistake if you don't consider the garbage bag draped over it and large cardstock sign reading "OUT OF SERVICE."

Those were aberrations, though. No doubt the work of one, maybe two vandals with severe bowel problems and no compunctions about sharing them with the world. It's probably just a couple of dirty jerks making every other gamer look bad. But still, the general state of most game store bathrooms I've seen borders on atrocious. How someone can live over twenty years and still not grasp the accepted "poop goes in the water" rule of modern society is beyond me. Who uses a toilet and walks out without flushing? You know how repulsive it is to walk into a bathroom and find someone else's orange piss still foaming in the bowl? I don't care what you do at home, but when you go to a public building, the adage "if it's yellow, let it mellow" does not apply.

I'm not alone in thinking this. At one point, the major gaming convention in Milwaukee, Gen Con, decided to issue fliers to all of its guests reminding them how great it would be if they actually took a shower once in a while. The main reason for this is because Gen Con stands as one of the last great endurance trials for gamers: several days of unceasing gaming. Many gamers attempt to make the pilgrimage to Milwaukee at least once in their life and see if they can go the distance on naught but caffeine and Slim Jims, and if you don't have to sleep, you don't need to book a hotel room and all its attending hygienic facilities. You can imagine the kind of funk several hundred gamers who have been living out of the consuite for three days smells like.

This is the story of the toilet pizza. It is also not anywhere close to the scatological nightmare you might currently be imagining. It's still very, very weird, and it haunts me to this day. Even better, the ending of this story may very well stand out as the most evil thing I have ever done.

We were playing a D&D 3rd Edition game in the back room-- Mike's favored spot to game because he could watch the rest of the store without craning his neck around. Unfortunately, this meant we were right next to the bathroom so every time the door opened after someone dropped the kids off at the pool, we sat at the table retching until the poo-gas dissipated. Believe me, I wanted to move to the front of the store, but Mike had a favorite green table in the back and he wasn't moving it. So I pulled the collar of my t-shirt over my nose, commando-style, and soldiered on. Of course, now I'm smelling my own armpits, but better my Old Spice deodorant than Chanel "Number Two."

Anyway, my character, Smilin' Jack D'Arcy (a Bard/Fighter working on the Dread Pirate prestige class for no better reason than it sounded really cool) got stiffed with a Hold Person spell so I decided to stretch my legs a bit because the fight was going to take a while. My wanderings eventually led into the bathroom because when I'm at the gaming table I tend to drink Mountain Dew like Dean Martin pounds back martinis. Mountain Dew is a curious beverage with a taste that's rather hard to define other than "it tastes green." Which it is. It's also nearly undrinkable when it's not cold and rumored to cause sterility in men. Fits right into my plan.

I can only be grateful it hasn't yet turned my pee green.

After doing my business, I flushed and began to head for the toilet when I noticed something wedged underneath the toilet bowl: a pizza box from the nearby Peter Piper Pizza. I would collect pizza boxes quite often from around the store because almost everyone choked down that godawful pizza every night. It was horrible stuff. Peter Piper is mainly a place for kids to have lame birthday parties and blow a few bucks on arcade games and skee-ball. It's certainly not known for its gourmet cuisine. Made from frozen, pre-packaged ingredients and slopped together by apathetic high-school students, it was bad even by take-out pizza standards; it was the kind of disgusting, limp pizza you couldn't pick up with your hands. Either you'd try to heft the slice with one hand, causing all the cheese to slough onto the plate leaving you with a reddish hunk of dough wrapped around your fist, or you'd try to pick it up with two hands, covering your fingers in grease and scalding cheese and try to mash this lump of lard and saturated fats into your mouth before your plate disintegrated. The grease was so plentiful it would form into standing orange pools on top of the pizza, soak through the "crust" (term used loosely because it had all the structural integrity of a tortilla) and even dissolve the cardboard box, leaving a moldering yellow stain on the white tables. We used to steal napkins and smother the pizza like a chemical spill, hoping to wick off the grease to make it slightly less-likely to cause us massive heartattacks before the age of thirty.

We ate it constantly. Every day we were there. Oh, we complained about it endlessly. It tasted like Super Mario wiped his ass on a plate. It was too expensive, and it was so unhealthy when we'd finished off the rubbery crusts we'd all felt like we'd done something unholy to ourselves we'd one day pay for later in our lives, and pay dearly. But every day I'd make the run and throw in an order for two large pepperoni, two large cheese. It's impossible to order anything else because any assembled group larger than three people can never agree on toppings, and then you're dealing with half-orders, weird allergies and aversions to sausage, and some sick fuckers even like to put pineapple on them. But nobody was willing to make the drive (or even the walk to the Taco Bell down the block) to go anywhere else, and nobody could ever remember the number to a better pizza place. Even when we could, there was always some asshole who cried out "Papa John's SUCKS" and ruin it for everyone else. Going anywhere else would also mean taking the orders of sixteen people, and seriously, fuck that noise.

It disturbed quite a bit when I pulled the box out from under the toilet and found it to be ponderously heavy, feeling a weight shift from within. I should have just run to the dumpster and thrown the box away and gone somewhere to use a blowtorch to sterilize my fist, but in some weird moment of Lovecraftian curiosity-- you don't really want to know, you just sorta have to know-- opened the box.

Inside lay a pizza. Pepperoni. Whole and intact. From under the toilet. It looked like it was made of wax, with a strange glossy film along the top tinted like rosé that must have been a thin lacquered layer of mozzarella oil. At a glance it actually looked...well, normal. It didn't look good by any stretch of the imagination, but it didn't really look like you'd expect a toilet pizza to look. There were no massive, rolling slopes of semi-sentient mold or nests of maggots, no stench of rotting cheese. The pizza was such an unnatural biological hazard that it held no nutritional value for vermin and was too toxic to serve as a host for mold. Instead it has just...hardened. It somehow looked stiff, as if I could pick it up in one contiguous disc and throw it. I had unearthed a perfectly-preserved pizza fossil.

I closed the box and found a receipt taped to the lid. The date marked the pizza as over a month old. How many times had I cleaned the bathroom and missed a large pepperoni pizza wedged vertically behind the toilet bowl? How many hairy naked gamer asses had the toilet pizza borne witness to? How many taco shit fumes had seeped into the cardboard, the very crust of this pizza?

I had so many questions, and I stood there with the toilet pizza in my hands turning the quandary over in my mind. This was, by far, the most Zen moment I had ever experienced. How had the pizza come to rest under a toilet? Who would ever take a whole pizza into the bathroom, and why? I like to imagine some guy bringing the pizza back to the store, sitting down at his game of Settlers of Catan and suddenly realizing that he had to use the bathroom. He looked around at the three other gamers, not trusting a single one of them alone with his pizza. "It's my pizza," he'd think, "I paid for it, and I'll be damned if the fuckstick who stole my Longest Road points is going to lay his filthy hands on a single solitary slice." So he tucks the box under his arm and heads into the bathoom as the other players watch him go in puzzlement.

From here my narrative gets a little cloudy. Maybe the person encountered some...straining difficulties and needed to use both hands to bear down on something, so he stuffed the pizza underneath himself before he realized what he was doing. Although I have no idea why someone who would bring a pizza into the bathroom would suddenly balk at taking the pizza back out of the bathroom. The Rubicon has been crossed, man. I just can't conceive of a single situation where the end conclusion is "I know, I'll store this pizza under the toilet."

Actually, come to think of it, I've been operating under the assumption that the person who put the pizza under the toilet did it for himself. Maybe that person did it to spite someone else. Same setup, only your opponent brings in the pizza and he just stole your Longest Road. He gets distracted by some obscure Jango Fett debate and you think "This'll fix his wagon. Your pizza is going under the fucking toilet. Teach you to drop the robber on my 8-forest, you dicktard..."

My god, I may have solved it. But I can never know for sure, and to the end of my days I will forever ponder the mystery of the toilet pizza, spinning the questions around in my head uselessly. Who? Why? And the most important question of all...

If I put this pizza out in the store, would anyone eat it?

I can only imagine the bouquet of flavors that flooded Nick's mouth the moment he took that first bite, but he knew something was wrong the moment that first fossilized morsel snapped off under his teeth like a stale graham cracker. I was never going to let the guy swallow it, but there was no fear of that. If he didn't already suspect something was wrong, the taste of Italian death in his mouth and my complete guffawing lack of a poker face sent him spewing back into the box declaring vendetta on my house. I suspect that one day he's going to be awaiting me in my bedroom with a roll of duct tape, a funnel, and decade-old avocado dip.

Still. Totally worth it.

Concerning Alignments & Throttling Paladins

It's prudent to address the issue of alignments before getting too far into the retelling of classic gaming stories, because many of the best stories of RPG group meltdowns involve alignments closely. For the benefit of any readers who aren't familiar with alignments, I'm not talking about adjustments to the wheels of your car; I'm referring to a descriptive term applied to an RPG character that loosely defines his ethics. Basically, they allow you to demonstrate that your character Lance Pureheart is, in fact, a Good Guy, the villain Scourge Asswipe is absolutely a Bad Guy, and the asshole druid Waffles Grayberry is just a neutral guy who really just wants to stay out of this argument and fuck a dryad or two.

There's more to it than that, of course. Some games don't bother with alignment-- you just act however you want-- other games have variant types of alignment like Rifts and the other Palladium games that take the form of an enumerated list of ethics, like "will not hit a guy with glasses on" and at what point that character will break his word. But most of the time when you're talking about alignment, you're talking about the Gygaxian alignment system in the Dungeons & Dragons RPG-- a system that not only defines a character, but empirically defines the entire structure of the galaxy and all its multitudinous dimensions, afterlives, and religions. It's also the most common argument to blight the gaming table, one that nobody's ever made any headway fighting, and can often end with people not talking to one another anymore. I've been in more than one group that has ended because of differences over the interpretation of alignment. It's sort of the Roe v. Wade argument of gaming, only way pettier.

I'll start simply. D&D's alignment consists of two factors: a character's adherence to the polar notions of law or chaos-- meaning, is a character more likely to operate within the bounds of law & order, or is he more anarchist in his approach. On one side would be Judge Dredd, a man who blindly follows the law, and on the other, think about Robin Hood who routinely breaks the law to help his common man. The other aspect of alignment is, on its face, relatively simple: is he devoted to Good or Evil interests? All you have to do is pick Law or Chaos, Good or Evil, and that's that. Easy, right?

I wish it was.

This isn't some wishy-washy terminology like I've made it out to be. In D&D it's serious business. It's not so much a description for a lot of players and DMs, it's a restriction. It's used to restrict membership in character classes; you can't very easily be a Lawful barbarian or a Good assassin, and it doesn't make much sense for a paladin to be Evil. In fact, a paladin has to be Lawful Good. They're the boy scouts. Further, you generally have to be of a similar alignment to the god your character worships, especially if you're a cleric and you expect Zeus to grant your requests for lightning bolts to smite thy foes. If Zeus thinks you're an asshole and knows you don't hold his ethics to heart, he's just not going to listen. Alignment is of key concern to religious classes.

It's also why paladins are, with few exceptions, insufferable shitheads. Imagine bopping around a fantasy realm with a glowing ninny in plate mail who literally radiates an aura of smug pretentiousness. I'm serious, you can see it. It's a little like hanging out with Superman, if Superman chopped anything he perceived as Evil into quivering sandwich-sized strips. Sure, when you're dealing with vampires and mummies there's no one you'd rather have in front of you then a 250-lbs. virgin with a five-foot flaming sword, but try living with him for a week.

Paladins are the ultimate wet blanket on a party's good time. You think he's just going to stand by and let the thief run around backstabbing sentries and slitting throats? Hell, a paladin would go apeshit if he knew a thief existed in the party. It's a thief. Stealing is wrong. The character will be lucky if that paladin doesn't take a heavy mace and beat the Bubble-Yum out of a thief's head. Forget looting the bodies of your enemies, ambushing that party of orcs, telling a lie, imbibing alcohol, or engaging in premarital sex. That's dishonorable.

You don't even have to do anything wrong to piss a paladin off. They can smell the taint on your soul. Your character's alignment is more than just a descriptor, it's an aura that he gives off. Paladins can detect evil at will just by looking at you, so if your alignment has the word "evil" in it, within seconds of meeting you he'll scan you with his stupid Sonar of Judgment and ram his sword into your chest before you can whimper "habeas corpus."

Sometimes conflicts like this will end in bloodshed, often the player will simply refuse to associate with the characters who offend the paladin's delicate sensibilities. You have to
understand, the paladin has to act this way, especially if the DM is a stickler for adherence to alignment. Paladins walk a moral tightrope. As soon as they stray from the path of righteousness, their patron god yanks their divine powers out from under them and they never get them back. That's not the paladin's fault, that's just the way he is. They're hard to involve in a group that takes alignment seriously, because it's hard to justify slitting an opponent's throat as an act that is good and noble, even if that throat happens to belong to a troll.

It's about here where the argument gets ugly. It's why I usually leave the room when it gets to this point, because it's all terribly pointless.

"But the troll is evil!" comes the counter-argument. "It says so in the Monster Manual. Troll: Chaotic Evil." Surely slashing the jugular of an evil creature is justifiable. The paladin might concede this point but point out that such a cowardly move is still dishonorable and therefore not Lawful, and is therefore still intolerable.

About now the person playing the druid chimes in, asking what specifically makes the troll irredeemably evil. What, we write the entire troll species off as evil just because the book slaps a label on them? There can't be any good trolls?

"Nope!" shouts the smartass wizard. "Remember when we slaughtered that room full of orc babies?"

"You did what?" the paladin recoils in horror. I start looking for booze.

"They're evil," insists the thief, still pointing at the Monster Manual. "Orcs: Chaotic Evil. They're evil fucking orc babies who will grow up into murdering orc raiders. I'll drown every last fucking orc baby I see if I get the chance."

"Remember when I put that orc baby in a pillowcase and smashed it against a wall?" laughs the fighter.

And now we've officially entered the "Death to Orc Babies" sub-argument of the alignment debate, where everyone tries to establish if orcs have a genetic basis for being Evil, or if it's an acquired behavior. Nobody wins this argument, but most agree that it was probably in bad taste to throw them ahead of the party down corridors to set off traps, shouting "fore!"

Just when you thought the worst of it was over, someone starts moaning over how they hate alignments as a whole and wish they could do away with it. After all, Good and Evil are relative concepts and only Sith deal in absolutes. This argument is partial bullshit, because the plain fact is that in most fantasy RPGs there is such a thing as absolute good and absolute evil. Hell exists and is a tangible place full of devils, and if you can't say the devil is evil, you really need to quit gaming and go to law school.

Still, it's a good point. It's easy to come up with justifications for theft, torture and assassination for a good cause (especially if you're a Republican). James Bond is an assassin for the British government, and he's not Evil. And I can come up with counter-arguments that Paladins can be every bit as diabolical and evil as any other villain. You could point to the most vile, sadistic, misogynistic, intolerant torturer of the Spanish Inquisition and claim that he's Lawful Good because he's absolutely devoted to the cause of Good and rooting out heresy. In fact, I've seen Paladins played that way and I can't argue that they did it wrong.

At some point people just need to relax. I've always felt that anyone who wants to bring a paladin to the gaming table really should discuss it with the other players and address potential problems out of the game, because the orc baby thing is going to come up and it's never pretty. If the player behind the paladin can't find some way to rationalize his character's willingness to associate with the party, it's best never to bring it in the first place. I've always felt that the DM should give the paladin moral leeway to fraternize with thieves and killers on the justification that he's fighting a much greater evil, but oftentimes the player himself can't get over that issue, standing stalwart on the phrase "my character just wouldn't do that."

Of course, being forthright and open with the other players before the issue becomes a problem is the common sense solution, which is why I've been in three groups that have melted down because of paladins.

It's a hopelessly muddy issue. Even many villains committed to depravity and oppression of the weak would classify themselves as good people. Few people except the insane would classify their own actions as evil. Everyone has a justification for why their actions are correct. Sure, in fantasy realms you're going to have people who worship evil gods and who are openly wicked, but then you start getting into a circular argument about the nature of these "evil" gods and everyone starts wondering why they can't just start throwing funny-shaped dice around and killing goblins.

Any alignment can be a real headache, though, particularly when you're dealing with jerks who go way overboard with it. And then there are just idiots. Here are all the possible alignment combinations and what they really mean, along with my special classifications for certain extreme alignments:

• Lawful Good, a.k.a. "Boy Scouts" - Pure of heart, noble of spirit, a champion of peace and justice. They're honorable folk, real suckers for charity cases and will believe pretty much anything if the NPC looks pathetic and waifish. They'll often rope the rest of the party along on lame bug hunts and decline payment. It's an alignment usually only taken by asshole paladins, who interpret this alignment as intolerant smug posturing, denouncing or beating the fudge out of anyone with a different system of beliefs.
• Lawful Neutral, a.k.a. "The Fuzz" - Primarily enforcement types who adhere to the law, right or wrong, and are interested only with maintaining order. They're difficult to justify as wandering adventurers, since the very nature of their lives tends to operate outside the scope of accepted law. They tend to be undesirable in an adventuring party because they're not much fun and will turn you in to the authorities for stealing stuff.
  
• Lawful Stupid, a.k.a. "Johnny Fairplay" - Obsessed with honor and law, usually enforcing both with swift, brutal force. It's an alignment also normally taken by paladins who will tear your balls off for jaywalking or blaspheming under your breath. They will also always demand a fair fight, even going so far as to wake up and loudly challenge an elder green wyrm to an honorable duel instead of killing it in its sleep. They usually don't last more than a week.
• Stupid Good, a.k.a. "Fucking Hippies" - The kind of simpering pacifist who refuses to take a life under any circumstances, tends to play unarmed clerics of wuss gods and are therefore nearly useless in a fight. Will incessantly whine and bitch if witnessing any shady act in progress. Tries to negotiate every encounter away from violence, and will often spend more healing magic on wounded enemies than on comrades, insisting that they be taken prisoner to stand trial for their crimes, no matter the location or circumstances, even if the nearest town is forty miles away and nobody has any rope.
• Lawful Evil, a.k.a. "Republicans" - Tyrants, despots and fascists who operate within the law to oppress others for personal gain. People usually don't choose this alignment because they deal with this type of person enough at work already.
• Neutral Good, a.k.a. "Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time" - A common alignment for people who want to be good guys without being assholes about it. They help people in need and don't much care for politics when they do it. Tends to be a low-maintenance alignment a DM can't call you out on the carpet for violating as long as you don't act like a complete psychopath and spike orc babies like footballs while doing the Super Bowl Shuffle.
  
• True Neutral, a.k.a. "Wafflers" - People with no strong moral leanings, such as farmers who care only about feeding their families are Neutral. Often misinterpreted by players who want to be cool mercenaries who serve the highest bidder (when this is actually Neutral Evil). Also the alignment of people who want to preserve the nebulous concept of balance between good and evil throughout the world. In Forgotten Realms, these people are known as Harpers, or more commonly, Pompous Fucktards.
• Neutral Stupid, a.k.a "Unbelievable Assholes" - Some people (read: fucking druids) interpret True Neutrality to be absolute, rigid lockstep adherence to Balance. That's Balance with a capital B, and they believe that Balance must exist in all things. These jagoffs are such unbelievable pricks that, in an example given in the D&D rulebook, a typical druid might fight against a band of marauding gnolls, only to switch sides and attack his own party to save the gnoll's clan from being exterminated. Can you believe that shit?
• True Neutral with Good Tendencies, a.k.a "Neutral With Bullshit Tendencies" - This is an inane distinction made in several adventure modules describing NPCs as Neutral, but Neutrals who do good things to help the party. Most people who play True Neutrals tend to do this as well, which begs the question why they don't just make Neutral Goods if they're just going to tap dance around the whole neutrality issue. You can't be neutral if you tend to always side with one group over another. That's the very antithesis of neutrality. It's just bullshit! True Neutral is a stupid alignment.
  
• Neutral Evil, a.k.a. "Mercs and Assassins" - These people are out solely for personal gain and hold no loyalty to anybody. They have no interest in wanton destruction, but neither are they bound to any code of honor. Typically only taken by PCs who are playing assassins, but most of the time the character is too much of a lying, duplicitous scumbag to be much good as a player character in an adventuring party.
• Chaotic Good, a.k.a. "The Thief" - Best thought of as the Robin Hood or Han Solo type of mentality, which makes it a very popular alignment because everyone wants to be Han Solo. Chaotic Good characters generally do whatever they want and will throw a beating to anyone who tries to oppress them. It's a good cop-out alignment for a character who wants to steal stuff and engage in pointless violence as long as it's generally directed towards the bad guys. Usually the guy who invents the game of orc bowling to find tripwires.
• Chaotic Neutral, a.k.a. "The Cop-Out Alignment" - The character does what he wants, when he wants, period. He has no regard for law whatsoever, and cares nothing for ethics when he acts. These characters are invariably complete tools because they have no impulse control and have a proclivity for randomly stabbing people who annoy them in the throat. It's impossible for a DM to violate their actions on alignment grounds, because how can you ever claim a Chaotic Neutral is acting out of character? People who don't want to justify their actions or who just want to kill shit will often scribble "CN" on their sheets so the DM will leave them alone.
  
• Chaotic Stupid, a.k.a. "The Xaositect" - Named after the Planescape faction devoted entirely to acting as random and bizarre as possible, Chaotic Stupids really are apt to do anything at any time, and usually spend most of their time thinking of the most imperceptibly loony thing to do just to prove that they can. They're just as likely to jump off a bridge howling the Battle Hymn of the Republic as they are to cross the bridge with penis in hand, jerking off into their own sock while shouting "Lemons! Lemons! Contact your network administrator!" They're not nearly as fun to have around at a party as you might think, because then you have to deal with them drunk.
• Chaotic Evil, a.k.a "No Chance Will a DM Allow This" - Take a frigging guess what a Chaotic Evil is like. If you actually think a DM is going to let a CE character slide into a normal group, he's either running an Evil campaign or you bribed him.
  
• Stupid Evil, a.k.a. "So You Bribed Him" - Evil characters are actually very playable as long as you're not an idiot, but most of the time people who want to play Evil characters are idiots, so you won't have to deal with their characters for long. The trick is not letting the other party members know that you're evil (usually you don't want them to know you're secretly an assassin), and so you masquerade as something else. Most of the time assassins claim to be bards, which is a bullshit story most veterans will see through instantly unless your poker face is fucking stellar. But Stupid Evils do everything they can to blow their cover by pulling some truly stupid shit, like stealing stuff from the party and getting caught almost instantly. Never rob your own party. It never ends well.