This was from a post by Paul E on Google+. In the comments he said he had gotten it from Fenarisk on the Something Aweful Traditional Games forum posted it in a discussion thread for the currently in-design fifth edition of D&D. Eric Tolle thought it originally showed up on rpg.net. If you know where this originated, let me know and I’ll add a link.
OD&D: If you’re strong enough, you lift the rock.
D&D 3.x: If you’re strong enough, you lift the rock. If you like lifting rocks, you should check out this new prestige class based around rock-lifting.
D&D 4: All classes can lift the rock. They just do it differently.
Rolemaster: Roll to lift the rock. Now roll on the “rock lifting fumble table.” Your arms fall off and bone shards impale two of your friends.
GURPS: Calculate the weight of the rock, your carrying capacity, your own weight, and the modifiers for terrain. Then roll to lift the rock.
Vampire: Roll to lift the rock. If you botch, you drop it on your foot and betray to the world the travesty of humanity you’ve become.
Mouseguard: It’s not whether you lift the rock; it’s what you lift the rock for.
Fate: If you’re strong enough, you lift the rock. If you’re not, maybe the rock killed your parents or saved your life. Spend a fate point and lift the rock.
Mutants & Masterminds: If you’re strong enough, you lift the rock. If not, use a power to lift the rock. Any power. Fish telepathy, maybe. Go crazy.
Car Wars: Lifting a rock would entail getting out of your car. Don’t do that.
Apocalypse World: Roll Under Fire to lift the rock. If you fail, Spacedog and his gang shoot you in the face.
Smallville: How much do you love the person trapped under the rock? Do you also love justice? Roll both those things to lift the rock.
Leverage: Roll to lift the rock. You succeed. But you rolled low, now Carmichael’s men are coming to investigate!
Lady Blackbird: How badly do you want to lift the rock? Roll that. If you succeed, play out an emotional scene with the rock to get your dice back.
Nobilis: You lift the rock and reveal the gaping maw that is the darkness beneath the universe. It takes your shadow from you, and you understand that nobody has ever loved you like your shadow loved you, but it is too late. A thing lifted can never be put down again.
Danger Patrol: Do you want to lift the rock? Or do you want to lift a rock... in space? While it’s on fire? And monkeybots are trying to pull off your head? And you’re soaked in rocket fuel? Is that enough DANGER FOR YOU??
Legend of the Five Rings: Bent down to lift rock, rough and gray in crystal beauty, you don’t notice death.
Exalted: Before you can lift the rock, you have to go on RPGnet and discuss the best Charm build so that you’re doing it right. Then you realize the mechanics are all broken. You eventually give up and move on to other things, but damn was that rock pretty.
Cthulhutech: The rock tries to rape you. It’s all brutal and dark and scary. You can’t do anything about it.
Paranoia: The other members of your team shoot you for trying to engage in unassigned activities with the property of the Computer.
HERO Games (4ed): Multislot – Rock: (5 points) × +1d6 HA (m10 points), 1d6 EB (m10 points). You go and check if your math is right, but give up.
FATE: You demand your GM give you a Fate Point for acting on an Aspect’s compel that requires you to pick up that rock!
Rifts: You bend over to pick up the rock. The rock is made of MDC material! You throw it through at a barn. The barn collapses. You sell broken fragments of MDC road asphalt as weapons of mass destruction.
Mage the Ascension: You pick up a rock. Were there witnesses? Were they Sleepers? The implications of each option boggle your mind.
Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay: You pick up a rock. You develop horrible mutations and an urge to worship the daemons whispering in your head. Maybe the events are related; it’s hard to say.
Shadowrun: Spend two hours with your team planning who will lift the rock and who will provide cover fire. Once the rock is engaged it turns out you underestimated its mass and the plan falls apart, so you just struggle and kick your way through. When you report your sloppy but successful execution of the mission to Mr Johnson, he fucks you over.
Fighting Fantasy: You lift the rock. Test your Luck. If you are unlucky, it falls and crushes you to the ground. Your quest ends here.
Changeling: the Dreaming: You pick up a rock. It’s a Chimerical rock, so nobody else notices it. You throw it at someone, but it passes through him. You crumple up like a character sheet in a game nobody wants to play.
Mechanical Dream: You pick up a rock. Something something dreams, something something reality, something something psi-fi. It’s really cool and pretty, but doesn’t seem to really make any sense. Of course, you probably shouldn’t be listening to rocks.
7th Sea: You pick up a rock because you’re a pirate! You’re not a pirate! You are too a pirate, there’s a boat behind you and everything! You are not a pirate damn it! Are so! Are not!
Unknown Armies: You pick up a rock. As long as you hold the rock, you have power. But once you let go of it, the power is lost. So who has the power, the rock or you? Meanwhile, somebody has invented a piece of technology that has been sold worldwide to everyone for decades if not centuries, making the rock obsolete.
Over the Edge: You pick up a rock. It’s a sentient time-traveler bent on conquering the Celebrity Poker circuit with your help. But that’s really a cover, since it’s really an acolyte of the Justified Ancients of Mu Mu. Of course, once your realize that’s a lie, the rock has already sold you out to the global Freemason conspiracy.
Ars Magica: You pick up a rock. 187 years ago, this rock was a stone in the Covenant of your teacher. Let’s explore the magical history this rock has seen.
F.A.T.A.L.: You pick up a rock. You degenerate misogynist you.
Creations End: You pick up a rock. It’s basically the same rock as the AD&D or Palladium rocks, but with a few minor differences. It crumbles apart as you try to look at it though. No one notices.
Scion: You pick up a rock. It’s basically a kludge of that Exalted rock with that Aberrant rock. You throw it at a monster and hope it hits him before falling apart into pieces.
Barbarians of the Aftermath: Before you can pick up a rock, first you have to roll on some tables. Then some other tables. Then some more tables. A few more tables. A lot more tables. A lot more tables. A few more tables. Go back and roll on some more tables. Now your rock is a tentacled chair singing praises to Shiva in binary. It’s really kinda’ awesome.
Kult: You have a rock. God hates you.
Kerberos Club: You roll to pick up the rock using your all-purpose Strange Skill.
Trail of Cthulhu: You automatically pick up the rock because there is a clue underneath. You make a 1-Point Geology spend to realize the rock is a part of the world and part of something so much larger and more important than your pitiful human scale. Your mind shatters and you run gibbering down the streets of Massachusetts.
Don’t Rest Your Head: You roll to pick up the rock. Exhaustion succeeds, but Pain dominates. You reach for the rock but are overcome by exhaustion. In your hand, the rock becomes a poisonous rock crab. The street laughs at you, as your blood runs into a hungry gutter.
Fiasco: You pick up the rock trying not to think about how bad this is all going to end up.
Strands of Fate: Build the physics of the entire universe from the ground up. Once that’s done, pick up the rock.
JAGS Wonderland: Try to pick up the rock. Descend to the first chessboard instead. Pick up the rock’s Shadow which drools on you. Meanwhile, back in the real world, your Reflection drools on the rock.
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