Sometimes the only players that have gotten captured are the ones that are the most likely to be smarmy and talk back to their captors, even if they're in a life-or-death situation. I'm sure Raxon has an example for this one, but relate a story where a player was a bit too cheeky with an enemy NPC that was holding them captive.

Two players in two separate games in the same setting have mocked a powerful ally for his, ah, unusual name.
Everyone who mocks Deepthroat has a tendency to... disappear. Their players drop out of the game for unrelated reasons, and the setting's powers-that-be erase them from history, presumably to keep the team's morale up - no reason to wonder where your buddy went if he was never there to begin with.

Are you kidding? I have a character designed entirely around The Ransom of Red Chief. He gets ungodly bonuses to bluff, diplomacy, and escape artist. He is designed purely to be captured and irritate the captors into submission.

Not me but someone i know. Playing a werewolf (or weresomething else, i'm not sure).
He was in a situation where he could not transform, and there was no way he break out of it in human form.
He still pissed of his captor, not because he wanted to do it in character, but because he kept either making the wrong choice of actions or say something without realising that it was going to annoy the ennemi.

when the rest of the party rescued him, he was in a poor state.

Everyone thinks highly of themselves, and of course, our characters are no exception. Sometimes though, we realize that we are not quite all that, with or without the bag of chips.

Tell a story about a time when a player or character finally realized that he'd either made a huge mistake, or prone to making them.

It would probably be easier to list the times people don't do that.

Playing tabletop RPGs is like a stupidity simulator, people make silly decisions left and right.

"There's a charred corpse across the hall from the door."
"I open the door."

"The door falls down with a soft squish. The floor beneath ripples and undulates."
"I step on it."

"I'm gonna walk away from the angry ooze covered in pseudopods to go stabilize my henchman."
"So are you *disengaging*?"
"No, I'm just backing up."
(rolls) "take 6 points of bludgeoning and... 21 points of acid damage."

...And that was all last Saturday. It's like they *want* to get killed. To be fair, they did start responding to locked doors by melting the hinges after the first trap, but it's one step forward, two steps back in terms of survival instincts.

At least they opted not to let the demon out of its cage like it asked...

Well, I did once end up freeing a pit fiend thinking it would deal fairly with me... It did fulfill the requests it offered me, but it did the whole, jackass genie thing. Ah well.

Chekyl the Tengu Alchemist likes to fancy himself a bit of an amateur detective and intellectual on his adventures.

In PRACTICE, though, he just comes across as snoopy and suspicious of those he doesn't know, and is still only right a minority of the time if the answer hasn't been spoon-fed to me by a skill check.

I had a fighter in my campaign that walked directly into ambushes so frequently that he attuned the activation phrase of his electric glaive to "Oh, crap."

"With a mighty heave, the three of you wrench the door off of the chapel and fling it into the horizon. The monsters inside glance away from the preachers they've backed into a corner and growl at you.
"You do realize the door was unlocked?"

Does sacrificinig a man to the demon and then admiting I was the one seeing him last counts?

I managed to bluff my way out of it, but I think my party is suspecting something.