I sat down at the table. Monday 9:AM. Some sorta Super-Hero game. I'd arrived at the convention Friday afternoon after working an early A.M. shift to get to the convention early. I gamed all the way through Friday night. Then I played all day Saturday and clean through Saturday night. Hold on. I then used liquid caffeine (tea and soda - not No-Doze which was very popular at the time) and highly sugared snackage to pull me through Sunday AND Sunday night.
So when I sat down to be Super, I'd been awake for something like 75 hours. Gotta tell ya, I felt a little greyish-green and not entirely on this planet, but I was really getting the most out of the convention - really!
As the game went on, I began to slump in my chair. An hour into it my eyes were even with the table top. The GM was using Cardboard Cutout Heroes - full color 2D miniatures. I was listening to the GM describe some new villain who had come to mash us when the drawing on my Cardboard Cutout moved. That's right. He freakin' MOVED. He actually took a couple of steps and looked at me. I responded by blinking and looking around to see if anyone else had noticed this break with reality. No one had. In fact they were continuing on, but they seemed to be sorta far away - their voices muffled.
I sat up straight, bumped the table and knocked over several of the cardboard heroes. With a bit of trepidation I reached out and set my figure upright. He didn't move. I apologized and quickly drained another (now warm) caffeinated beverage. It did - exactly nothin'. Within minutes I was back to slumpin'. And then the cardboard feak moved AGAIN. He turned and looked at me in a hands-on-hips disapproving way. Okay, sleep deprived, it took only two visits from the cardboard gods of hallucination for me to get the message. Go get some sleep. Damn. This was going to be the last game of the convention and I was going to sleep through it.
I made my apologies to the GM, told him I'd been up all night and staggered to the hotel room my friends and I were using as gamer command central. Once there, I passed out like a drunken sailor, or pirate, or some other colorful character. I awoke when housekeeping showed up and booted me out for being there past checkout time.
I remember all of about 10 seconds of the drive home. I recall leaving the hotel. I recollect lurching awake as my car left the freeway bearing down on a pair of sturdy trees and an even sturdier boulder. I swerved back on the road, convinced that the adrenaline would keep me awake for the 1/2 hour remaining of my drive. I don't remember a minute of it, but somehow I got home.
Lucky me. I got home. Stupid me. I pushed too far for the fun and bragging rights. These days I stay at the hotel and get sleep every night. I remember games and more important, I come back year after year instead of slamming into unforgiving boulders. Be safe y'all.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Friday, May 11, 2007
Know thy Characters
They come rushing out of the jungle like a bloody wave. They look something like undead inside out chihuahuas with bigger teeth. There's hundreds of them, with saliva spilling out between their needle-sharp gnashing teeth. What do you do?
[insert gales of laughter here for 5 minutes - 10 minutes - 15 minutes]
Seriously, there's thousands of tiny teeth about to rip you slowly into bit-sized morsels.
Chase: (gasps for breath) I pick up my Thompson submachine gun.
Margot: (through clenched teeth) I break out my double-barrel shotgun.
Terence: (holds his aching stomach) I draw my Mauser pistol and click it over to full-auto.
Scott: (stiffles a coughing fit) I whip out my twin .45 automatics, the ones with the extended clips.
Anzo: (clears his throat) I kick open the box to the Lewis Gun and shoulder it.
The things leap at you...
Rat-atat-tat, Boom-Boom, Pow:Pow:Pow:Pow, Blam.Blam., Braaaaaaap.
Thus was born the "Wall of Lead". Not a single undead-killer-chihuahua so much as nicked one of the characters with their nasty tiny sharp pointy teeth. There was just red spray and jungle mulch. And worse, none of the characters, or Players, was in any way terrified. They just blew the smoke from the barrels of their arsenal, reloaded and went to sleep for the night (the characters, not the Players). They did leave a guard. (one freakin' guard)
My first reaction was anger. How can they not be frightened? I think inside out chihuahuas are really disgusting. The Players should have at least been disgusted. I was furious. Furious! Years later, after faaaaaar to many reminders of this incident, I figured out the problems:
1. Chihuahuas aren't scary. Ugly, maybe, but not at all frightening. Bad choice for my description.
2. Hundreds of not-scary little monsters doesn't suddenly make them frightening. It makes them hilarious.
3. I shouldn't have been angry. I should have been as amused as the Players were. It was an awesome display of firepower.
4. I didn't think about the CHARACTERS. I'd spent several game sessions making them afraid of everything that moved. Unearthly horrors had plagued them for adventure after adventure and their sanity was slipping. They were more than a little unstable and were making up for it with firepower - firepower they planned to use on much more dangerous adversaries later in the adventure.
The Wall of Lead was not an over-reaction. It was a response I should have expected. They'd acquired every piece of their armory during the course of play and I should have known they'd bust it out at the first sign of trouble. After all, I'd pushed them to that level of paranoia. Heck, they didn't even break out the grenades or dynamite.
These days, I keep copies of every Player's character sheets, so that I know what their characters brings to the party and I can create encounters that fit their experience. I've also learned to applaud the characters when they create a novel situation. And I've come up with BIG scary monsters. Really. They're VERY scary.
[insert gales of laughter here for 5 minutes - 10 minutes - 15 minutes]
Seriously, there's thousands of tiny teeth about to rip you slowly into bit-sized morsels.
Chase: (gasps for breath) I pick up my Thompson submachine gun.
Margot: (through clenched teeth) I break out my double-barrel shotgun.
Terence: (holds his aching stomach) I draw my Mauser pistol and click it over to full-auto.
Scott: (stiffles a coughing fit) I whip out my twin .45 automatics, the ones with the extended clips.
Anzo: (clears his throat) I kick open the box to the Lewis Gun and shoulder it.
The things leap at you...
Rat-atat-tat, Boom-Boom, Pow:Pow:Pow:Pow, Blam.Blam., Braaaaaaap.
Thus was born the "Wall of Lead". Not a single undead-killer-chihuahua so much as nicked one of the characters with their nasty tiny sharp pointy teeth. There was just red spray and jungle mulch. And worse, none of the characters, or Players, was in any way terrified. They just blew the smoke from the barrels of their arsenal, reloaded and went to sleep for the night (the characters, not the Players). They did leave a guard. (one freakin' guard)
My first reaction was anger. How can they not be frightened? I think inside out chihuahuas are really disgusting. The Players should have at least been disgusted. I was furious. Furious! Years later, after faaaaaar to many reminders of this incident, I figured out the problems:
1. Chihuahuas aren't scary. Ugly, maybe, but not at all frightening. Bad choice for my description.
2. Hundreds of not-scary little monsters doesn't suddenly make them frightening. It makes them hilarious.
3. I shouldn't have been angry. I should have been as amused as the Players were. It was an awesome display of firepower.
4. I didn't think about the CHARACTERS. I'd spent several game sessions making them afraid of everything that moved. Unearthly horrors had plagued them for adventure after adventure and their sanity was slipping. They were more than a little unstable and were making up for it with firepower - firepower they planned to use on much more dangerous adversaries later in the adventure.
The Wall of Lead was not an over-reaction. It was a response I should have expected. They'd acquired every piece of their armory during the course of play and I should have known they'd bust it out at the first sign of trouble. After all, I'd pushed them to that level of paranoia. Heck, they didn't even break out the grenades or dynamite.
These days, I keep copies of every Player's character sheets, so that I know what their characters brings to the party and I can create encounters that fit their experience. I've also learned to applaud the characters when they create a novel situation. And I've come up with BIG scary monsters. Really. They're VERY scary.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
What's YOUR story, Pal?
You drive around the corner and through the trees you see a house. The mansion seems to have been built by a madman. None of the angles of it seem quite right. As you pull up the driveway, you're not even sure what the building is made of. It looks like some material that is both metal and stone. You stop and get out of the car. As you walk up, you see a few gentlemen gathered on the massive front porch. You recognize some of them and begin to wonder what you're doing here. This rabble consists of every crackpot scientist in North America. You think about heading back to the car. The other "Doctors" look like they might be having the same idea. Then the front doors swing open...
Okay, so I've got this idea about a convention of mad scientists. Sounds fun, lots of absent-minded professors getting themselves into trouble. Interesting setup, but what's the story?
I'm prepping for KublaCon game convention and this is the opening scene for my 6 hour Call of Cthulhu game. I have some other elements in mind, but they're not coming together as a story yet. What's a Keeper of Arcane Lore to do? I've only got 2.5 weeks! I reach for a book, of course. C-O-C investigators are always getting their answers out of musty-dusty old books and I'm no different.
I use the ENCYCLOPEDIA CTHULHIANA. I own a 1st Edition and there's been a 2nd Ed. I start with a connection I already know: The Great Race of Yith were big technology users. They also mastered time travel. They fled their doomed planet of Yith and came to inhabit the bodies of creatures on earth millions of years ago. Okay, scientists like technology and mad scientists are always messing with time travel. At the end of the entry on the Great Race, there are cross references: Brothers of the Yellow Sign (could be bad guys) The Eltdown Shards (ancient pottery shards that could save the investigators) flying polys (the Yithians ancient enemies, maybe sanity loss causing bad guys), etc. As I turn to each reference, I find others and eventually I find a way of tying several of them together. I make up a few elements of my own and Bingo! I've got a story.
If you run C-O-C this is a really good source for creating adventures. Only bad news is that it isn't currently (5/8/2007) in print. I'll check with the folks at Chaosium at the convention and find out if they're planning a reprint. If you can find a copy, get it and ask Chaosium to do a reprint. My copy's getting tired.
Okay, so I've got this idea about a convention of mad scientists. Sounds fun, lots of absent-minded professors getting themselves into trouble. Interesting setup, but what's the story?
I'm prepping for KublaCon game convention and this is the opening scene for my 6 hour Call of Cthulhu game. I have some other elements in mind, but they're not coming together as a story yet. What's a Keeper of Arcane Lore to do? I've only got 2.5 weeks! I reach for a book, of course. C-O-C investigators are always getting their answers out of musty-dusty old books and I'm no different.
I use the ENCYCLOPEDIA CTHULHIANA. I own a 1st Edition and there's been a 2nd Ed. I start with a connection I already know: The Great Race of Yith were big technology users. They also mastered time travel. They fled their doomed planet of Yith and came to inhabit the bodies of creatures on earth millions of years ago. Okay, scientists like technology and mad scientists are always messing with time travel. At the end of the entry on the Great Race, there are cross references: Brothers of the Yellow Sign (could be bad guys) The Eltdown Shards (ancient pottery shards that could save the investigators) flying polys (the Yithians ancient enemies, maybe sanity loss causing bad guys), etc. As I turn to each reference, I find others and eventually I find a way of tying several of them together. I make up a few elements of my own and Bingo! I've got a story.
If you run C-O-C this is a really good source for creating adventures. Only bad news is that it isn't currently (5/8/2007) in print. I'll check with the folks at Chaosium at the convention and find out if they're planning a reprint. If you can find a copy, get it and ask Chaosium to do a reprint. My copy's getting tired.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Telegraph Hell
You walk into the lounge at the asylum. Your footsteps echo off of the tile. The TV lights the room with a blue flicker. Roll a Spot Hidden.
Creep Finder #1: I blow it.
Creep Finder #2: Can I make a Spot Hidden Roll?
Creep Finder #3: Can I make one to?
Creep Finder #4: Yeah, me to.
Well, eventually someone's gonna make the freakin' roll and notice the nurse cocooned to the ceiling. Where's the suspense? Where's the fear? Where's the surprise? All of the Players know there's something hidden, or about to jump out, or there's a dead body behind the sofa, or...something. The GM's telegraphed it by asking for the roll and ruined the whole thing.
Horror games are my fave. But they're less fun when the Players know when things are creeping up on them or hiding behind the door, or dangling overhead. To prevent Telegraph Hell, I record the Listen and Notice skills of the characters before each session. I then have the Players roll 25 of these rolls in advance. That way, I can figure out if they notice the zombie behind the water heater, or if it jumps out at them after they slink past. I just go down the list and check off the rolls as they happen. That way I can work the result into the narrative.
Prerolling also eliminates the following:
As you make your way down the alley, a vampire leaps out of a darkened doorway and slams you into the opposite wall.
Creep Finder #2: Don't I get a Notice Roll?
Um, oh yeah.
Creep Finder #2: I make it.
Okay, rewind the interesting, cool, shocking drama and now you notice the vampire lurking in the doorway as you approach.
Creep Finder #3: Can I make a Notice Roll?
And so it goes. The preroll lets you work the results seamlessly into the story. It also heightens the suspense level of the Players. They don't know if you're about to use a good roll or a bad one. It's a surprise, the way good horror and drama should be.
Don't forget that this doesn't eliminate the ability for the Players to make a Notice Roll whenever they want. But if they don't choose to roll it on their own, it's already done.
Creep Finder #1: I blow it.
Creep Finder #2: Can I make a Spot Hidden Roll?
Creep Finder #3: Can I make one to?
Creep Finder #4: Yeah, me to.
Well, eventually someone's gonna make the freakin' roll and notice the nurse cocooned to the ceiling. Where's the suspense? Where's the fear? Where's the surprise? All of the Players know there's something hidden, or about to jump out, or there's a dead body behind the sofa, or...something. The GM's telegraphed it by asking for the roll and ruined the whole thing.
Horror games are my fave. But they're less fun when the Players know when things are creeping up on them or hiding behind the door, or dangling overhead. To prevent Telegraph Hell, I record the Listen and Notice skills of the characters before each session. I then have the Players roll 25 of these rolls in advance. That way, I can figure out if they notice the zombie behind the water heater, or if it jumps out at them after they slink past. I just go down the list and check off the rolls as they happen. That way I can work the result into the narrative.
Prerolling also eliminates the following:
As you make your way down the alley, a vampire leaps out of a darkened doorway and slams you into the opposite wall.
Creep Finder #2: Don't I get a Notice Roll?
Um, oh yeah.
Creep Finder #2: I make it.
Okay, rewind the interesting, cool, shocking drama and now you notice the vampire lurking in the doorway as you approach.
Creep Finder #3: Can I make a Notice Roll?
And so it goes. The preroll lets you work the results seamlessly into the story. It also heightens the suspense level of the Players. They don't know if you're about to use a good roll or a bad one. It's a surprise, the way good horror and drama should be.
Don't forget that this doesn't eliminate the ability for the Players to make a Notice Roll whenever they want. But if they don't choose to roll it on their own, it's already done.
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