For reasons I shan't go into I have to do a lot of house clearance over the next couple of months.
This is on top of needing to make a trip to the UK for family reasons, so my life is full right now.
The house clearance means I need to make a bunch of dump runs, and those go a little like this:
For that section of garbage that can't go into the usual Monday collection, you take it down to the dump yourself. You can pay someone else to do it. I don't want to pay money for anything other than furniture or stuff that won't go in the car. But it does mean a lot of dump runs for, say, old electronics, clothes the charity shop won't take, books that are too badly damaged or uninteresting to go to the charity shops, and so on.
The dump is way on the unattractive side of town. I could say it's the bad side, but that implies it's crime-ridden, and it's not. It's just too close to the incinerator, which means it's constantly under threat of ash, particularly if the wind is going the wrong way. In a place like Bermuda, where everything's supposed to be perfect, that's not great, and don't forget we get our drinking water from rainwater collection off the roof. There's all kinds of reasons why you might not want to live close to the dump.
The dump's a communal experience. Everyone goes there at some point. Doesn't matter where you are in society's food chain; someday there's going to be something you want rid of, and this is where it goes. There's a scattering of things on the kerb that someone left out in case someone wanted it. Art, usually. The rest goes into one of four bins, unless it's a car battery, which goes to one side. The whole shebang is presided over by a grotesquerie that someone put up in the way-back-when, a half-life size doll of a cricketer with a bat. You drive in, you dump, you move on. It opens every day at 7am come rain come shine, unless it's Christmas. I'm probably going to make several dump runs this week. I have to go to town anyway. It makes sense.
RPG settings tend not to spend a lot of time considering trash, which is a shame, since garbage disposal is a big part of living in a community. Arkham is the one I think of. I've not yet read the more recent version; basing this on Arkham Unveiled, item 1005:
Most of Arkham's trash and garbage end up northwest of Meadow Hill, in a big excavated pit. At night the place is infested with raccoons, skunks, opossums, and an occasional black bear.
Which is fine so far as it goes but doesn't spend a lot of time on what makes it a dump or what happens when the dump gets too big for its britches. It spends at least half the description on wild animals which might be found there.
In period, Arkham, like Bermuda, probably spends a lot of effort not throwing things away. Things are expensive. Difficult to get. Often in short supply. You don't chuck things unless you have to. Furniture, clothing, these are things you repair.
Unless there's a compelling reason to get rid of it.
Dump Run
Your borrowed flivver is laden with things that absolutely will not keep and you've been tasked with taking it to the dump.
Some of Arkham's poorest are already there when you get there, picking through the discarded, seeing what can be salvaged. There's a policeman here too, which isn't usual. You recall an article in the Gazette about fights breaking out over scraps. That's probably why he's here.
Among other things you see, by the side of the road, a trio of paintings. This happens from time to time. The rich in the artist's colony take a disliking to something they've made and, rather than salvage the canvas (or, in some cases, the frame) they leave it here. Perhaps someone takes it. Perhaps not.
One of the paintings catches your eye. Is it:
Option One: The Seascape A battered fishing trawler limps back into port just ahead of a storm. It's a third-rate Expressionist piece, dimly reminiscent of film poster paintings. The Expressionist style makes it hard to make out details, but there's something hiding in the water. Perhaps several somethings. Humanoid? Difficult to tell, but they have eyes. Lots of eyes. SAN 1/1D3, and the viewer sees this in their dreams for a week. Longer, if they retrieve the painting and take it home with them. Anyone who does take it home becomes very interesting to Deep Ones, who pursue the picture owner trying to get the painting from them.
Option Two: The Landscape An exercise in social realism, this piece shows a city street in Arkham. Probably Northside, not too far from the Asylum and the Common. There are three figures clustered round a cart, a fruitseller, the only human figures in the piece. Otherwise the street is peculiarly vacant. You'd swear you know that street, but you can't quite place it. You must have walked through it or past it a hundred times. SAN 1/1D3, and if someone takes this piece home with them then they can find this street. Otherwise its existence preys on their mind, but they can't find it. If they do find this street, the fruitseller has something very peculiar for sale ...
Option Three: The Dreamscape An odd architectural section in the Bahaus style, someone's deconstruction of an older Arkham townhouse. If this is the early 1920s then Bahaus is virtually unknown in the US, making its peculiar use of colors and severe exactitude challenging to identify. The townhouse seems familiar, but the viewer can't quite place it. The effect is something like a 20th century genie in an 18th century bottle. SAN 1/1D3, and if the viewer takes this painting home they discover that their house, wherever or whatever it may be, becomes the townhouse in the painting, after dark. After midnight, footsteps can be heard. Someone is pacing the corridors of the house of dream.
Image taken from Gutenberg Holidays & Happy Days, HAMISH HENDRY
It's a bank holiday weekend and lightning is flashing outside, which makes me think of fireworks and the likelihood the electricity is about to go out.
Bonfires were accompanied by fireworks from the 1650s onwards, and it became the custom after 1673 to burn an effigy (usually of the pope) when heir presumptive James, Duke of York, converted to Catholicism. Effigies of other notable figures have found their way onto the bonfires, such as Paul Kruger, Margaret Thatcher, Liz Truss, Rishi Sunak and Vladimir Putin. The "guy" is normally created by children from old clothes, newspapers, and a mask.
The streets are alive with the sound of urchins, begging a penny for the guy. Some of the urchins are a little mature; students from the local [medical college/university/fill in the blank] are pooling their resources for what they say will be a spectacular guy, to be burnt two streets from the Bookshop's door.
One of those students, Larry Tinston, was recently caught shoplifting. At least, that's what the shop staff call it. Larry says he was just borrowing that peculiar book, as it gave him an idea. It's the kind of book [insert occult grimoire here] that the general public really oughtn't have in their possession. Fortunately the book was put back, no harm done.
Except it's gone again. Larry? Where is Larry now?
Option One: A Loud Bang. The book in question contains alchemical secrets, and Larry wants it because it's given him inspiration for a really good firework. The sort that will get attention for miles around. The plan is to use it to blow the guy's head off, and it will. It will send out a signal to Cthughua too, which Larry does not appreciate.
Option Two: A Cacophany of Devils. Larry, ever the model-maker, wants this book because he wants to design a really splendid, life-size model of devils dragging the guy to Hell. There's something about the illustrations that calls to him. The devils are Nightgaunts, and while the models themselves are harmless their depiction will attract attention from one of the many cults of London. Intrigued, they descend upon the shop. Where is that book? There's a customer who wants it badly.
Option Three: A False Flag. Larry didn't take the book, honest. Someone else took advantage of the situation and half-inched it. Now Larry, amateur sleuth, will clear his name by finding the culprit. The thief is a megapolisomancer who's wanted this book for a while, but, more importantly, they want Larry's help making a model. If Larry agrees, the consequences may be felt later, when the megapolisomancer uses the model in their workings. Perhaps the Hounds should help amateur sleuth Larry before it's too late?
This week’s post is loosely based on this Guardian news article about museum robberies and a recent EUROPOL report. The report is timely; Friday that same week there was another article about a museum robbery in which a diamond necklace belonging to Egyptian royalty was snatched.
“Additionally, some thieves apprehended in recent cases appear to coordinate their efforts on an ad hoc basis, often recruited locally through social media and instant communication channels, without prior connections to each other. This differs from the usual structure of criminal networks involved in cultural goods trafficking, which typically operate in a core group organised around a leader.” EUROPOL report
The full report can be had here. It's not long. Broadly speaking, the papers published the bits everyone will be interested in.
All of which made me think of Night’s Black Agents and the recruitment process.
Night’s Black Agents’ central conceit says espionage assets brought in by the vampire Conspiracy are used, abused, abandoned, and now find themselves on the run from their former employers. In a Bourne-style world, what is it like when Treadstone (or the equivalent) is a supernatural horror show?
One of the recurring issues in a setting such as this is how to bring the characters on board. What was the inciting incident?
In another post I speculated a potential infection vector: the Kill Team.
Thanks to EURPOL, there’s another way in: the Heist.
The protagonists are all recruited to carry out a museum robbery. The target: Dacian artefacts held in a museum in Ghent. Once they complete the task they’re supposed to take the stolen items across the border to France, where they’re to hand off the artefacts to their paymaster in exchange for large bags full of cash.
Dacians: The German linguist Paul Kretschmer linked daos to wolves via the root dhau, meaning to press, to gather, or to strangle – i.e. it was believed that wolves would often use a neck bite to kill their prey.
Done and done.
The characters are brought in by an unknown third party who reached out via, say, Telegram. Their job is to break in and steal a particular thing, but they are encouraged to steal other things to make it look like a ‘normal’ robbery. Plus, anything extra they steal is a bonus to their pay packet.
Ghent: a historic medieval port town in Belgium, once big on textiles, now big on tourism and shipping. Very significant architecturally, practically car-free in the old town center. Infested with religious architecture and churches, which may be significant to any supernatural element that dislikes religion or has religious Banes.
Museum of Antiquity and Harmony (Double Tap Establishing Shot):
Statuary, paintings, and the wonders of antiquity surround you on every side. You move along with other tourists, past bored museum guards and sophisticated alarm systems you could easily hack. The museum has high ceilings, a maze of large rooms filled with the detritus of history, and enough museum visitors to make action somewhat problematic.
extras and cameos: Knowledgeable historian, pretentious art student, clump of foreign tourists; Ex-con Forger, Hacker, Occult Bookstore Owner, Second-Story Man.
clues: Mysterious carved tablet recently put on display; obscure 17th century portrait that looks identical to a well-known billionaire; ancient weapon thick with legends.
rules effects: Spending a point of Art History allows the agent to befriend a museum administrator or art historian, giving them inside information about how the museum is run. Alarm systems range from Difficulty 2 to 6 against Infiltration tests, depending on the museum and the exhibit. Cinematic jewels or the main prize of the operation, of course, have multiple layers of security and a final, laser filled Difficulty 8 chamber.
in a fight: Ancient weapons and armor can still be used in combat; priceless statues too easily toppled; poles with velvet ropes still attached, used as crude bludgeons.in a chase: Dive through interactive exhibits of video and holograms; lift disguises from the museum gift shop; slow and mingle with the crowd as a maze of room displays blend into one another.
Museum Backstory (core clue): this place has a peculiar reputation. It's privately owned and those guards aren't your standard retired cop looking for an easy gig.
Museum Backstory (point spend): This museum is privately funded by the Catholic Church. Certain dignitaries and experts are often seen here. Director's choice as to who that is. but it should be someone fairly significant, eg. Dracula Dossier's Mysterious Monsignor. The guards are former members of the Vatican's Rapid Intervention Group (GIR). Occult Studies will notice vampiric Banes in strategic locations.
The Meet Cute (Opening Scene)
The protagonists gather in a location assigned to them by their employer, probably a shady low-class hotel somewhere close to the Port of Ghent. It's the kind of place beloved by truck drivers and other transients who aren't here for tourism. This may be the first time any of them have met, though they may know each other's professional reputation.
Whatever equipment they might need, including a vehicle, is supplied by their employer and can be found on site. A regular car, most likely, though if any of the agents have cherry level Mechanics they can specify that the car is souped-up or has a modification of their choice. Protagonists with specific equipment needs (the Hacker, the Wire Rat) can also have those supplied now.
The job is to hit the museum, grab a particular item (the McGuffin, assumed to be some kind of Dacian artefact of interest to the Conspiracy) as well as any other item(s) they see fit, and get across the border to France where the hand-off will take place in a warehouse not far from Lille.
Surprise Pregnancy (The Heist)
The agents hit the museum however they wish.
On their way in they find themselves face-to-face with a significant, nemesis-level NPC. Perhaps it's the Mysterious Monsignor or someone of equivalent campaign importance. It might even be an Edom dignitary. The obvious one is Pearl, who was brought in by the Vatican to give his professional opinion regarding museum security. Whoever it may be, their mere presence in the scene ups Heat by 3 as alarm bells go off all across the continent, and this increases by a further 2 if that NPC is significantly injured (or, God forbid, killed) in the ensuing mayhem.
Additional complication: there is a Very Valuable Item, say, a diamond necklace, easily stolen. However, if the protagonists take it they incur the wrath of the owners, who lent it to the museum. The owners aren't the Conspiracy but they have access to considerable resources of their own, not all of them human. They launch a parallel chase, trying not to attract the attention of the authorities (or Edom or the Vatican) but they really want their McGuffin back and aren't fussy about the casualty rate. While this does complicate the protagonists' lives it opens up a Yojimbo option.
Why Choose? (The Hand-Off)
Assuming the protagonists get away with it and get to that warehouse near Lille, they discover their mysterious employer mysteriously dead. At any rate, there's a corpse on the ground (possibly several) and their Telegram messages are going unanswered. Turns out there is a Third Party in the mix, the Conspiracy. The Conspiracy didn't want the heist, didn't need the headache it caused, but, well ... there is that McGuffin, all valuable and shiny ... gosh, it would be a shame to let it go back to that musty old museum ... you know what, let's just make lemonade out of these here lemons. In fact, if these resourceful little suns-of-guns want it, there's a job opportunity waiting for them in Lille. Of course, the benefits aren't great, but life itself is a benefit, don't you think?
The protagonists must make a choice. Do they want to work for the Conspiracy? If not, they'd better be prepared to go on the run, as of right this minute.
In fact, not only will they be on the run from the Conspiracy, they'll also be on the run from the Vatican and whoever that other party was they unexpectedly ran into at the museum. If they carried out that Very Valuable Item robbery, well, that's another powerful enemy to worry about. Perils of greed, honestly.
For that matter, they still don't know who their mysterious employer was, or whether there's someone out there in the darkness connected with their mysterious employer who would really like to know what happened at that museum in Lille. So that's yet another complication to think about.
Then of course there are the authorities. You know, EUROPOL. Who would like to arrest them. For crimes.
Gosh darn it all. If only the protagonists had some friends!
a ghost town is more than just a few forms. I think of it in these terms: first a town loses its ability, then its vitality, and shortly after that it becomes a ghost
Here's another practical example, inspired by various internet posts but particularly this one.
Goussainville, Val-d'Oise is close to Paris and was at one time an ordinary place. Then someone built an airport next door. Air and noise pollution was bad enough, but then a Russian aircraft crashed during a show killing several residents, all the air crew, and destroying a portion of the town. What was already a steady decrease in population became a flood, and the old town emptied out.
An architectural wrinkle prevents significant regeneration. The 14th century church of St Paul and St Peter at the heart of Goussainville is protected by the state. Neither it nor any building within 500 meters can be altered in any significant way. While parts of Goussainville are thriving, the old town is a graffiti-pocked shell of its former self.
I think of ghost towns in small sandbox terms. There may or may not be a convenient central hub - a general store, an inn, a church - but the town's story is scattered roundabout, which means there will be different kinds of experiences to be had.
That's what we're looking at here. There is a central hub - the church, the abandoned mansion, the old supermarket - but the ghost town's story is scattered across several locations. If they want to follow up on certain angles (the Russian plane crash, eg) they might have to leave the town altogether and go hunting in old archives. Perhaps they'll find old television footage:
Perhaps they'll find first responders or former government employees, now long retired to [somewhere far away from here] who have vivid memories of the event. Perhaps this, perhaps that, but the central point is that the story is large and will be found in several locations, not all of which are obvious.
Let's give this an Esoterror angle.
To The Devil A Daughter: Bundyclub, France
Bundyclub, from the Esoterrorists main book, is a group of otherwise unconnected people who become serial killers under the direction of John Michael Loehr, a ringleader figure who communicates with all of them online. The group began as killer fans, and later, under Loehr's direction, become killers.
Bundyclub acquires an international dimension when Loehr contacts a Frenchman, Gabin Bazin, through the same internet forum.
Bazin's fascinated by killer Marcel Barbeault, aka The Shadow, who Bazin believes committed at least one murder in Goussainville: Bazin's mother, Esme. Bazin believes the murder was never solved, at least in part, because of the plane crash which interrupted the investigation.
Loher's corpsejabber controller 'Maria' perked up when Bazin's dead mother was mentioned in chat. Could Bazin be tempted down the same path as Loehr, becoming the center of a French Esoterror daughter cell?
It's been two years since that initial contact. Now Bazin has a corpse on his back and a murder basement in one of the abandoned buildings in Goussainville. Like Loher, Bazin has been gathering like-minded individuals online. They plan their first killing soon. A target in Paris has been picked out.
However, unlike Loher Bazin hasn't quite mastered the dark arts of internet security, and the French authorities have picked up his trail. The OV is dropped a hint: somewhere in Goussainville a dark secret is hid, but where exactly - and what?
Last post before I fly. I'll be offline for two weeks; won't see you again till the beginning of June.
Reminder: I'm one of the hosts of a Friday panel at the UK Chaosium thing in Cranfield. Come say hi!
***
Wild West shows were a big thing, once upon a time. Buffalo Bill is supposed to have started the first, after Ned Buntline's novel made him famous, but in their day they were the Great Big Thing of entertainment. By the 1880s there were several troupes travelling the US and making a big splash abroad. They began to die out around about the 1890s, and the biggest and the best, Buffalo Bill's, fell to bankruptcy shortly before the First World War.
Broadly speaking, the format was the same across the board. Daring displays of horsemanship, shootist talent, and glammed-up frontier life, capped with an Indian raid on some burning cabin or other, repulsed by the brave cowboys and their allies. Historical accuracy was so far from the point as to be living in another country under an assumed name. Buffalo Bill and his fellow entrepreneurs knew one thing and one thing only:
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance
This is why Stoker uses a cowboy stereotype in Dracula. Not that he gives a damn, but he knows what his audience likes. They knew cowboys. Dime store novels and Wild West shows told them everything they needed to know about the heroes of the prairie.
In the 1930s, Wild West shows are dead and gone. The West as a genre of entertainment is still alive and well; the riders and daredevils move on to film. There are still novels, just not dime novels.
There are collectors who want those novels.
Ghost Woman
The Hounds know that someone out there wants all the copies of Doc Cantrill's Burning Sagebrush they can get their hands on. It's not clear why.
Burning Sagebrush is a tell-all that first saw print in the States back in 1908, went out of print for a while, then saw a new edition in 1931 as a tie-in for a Tom Mix flicker. Mix's film wasn't a faithful adaptation of Burning Sagebrush, which is just as well since the novel's next door to pornography. At its release, there were calls for it to be banned under the Obscene Publications Act.
Sagebrush is the story of a wild west desperado who rides with a Wild West troupe, having adventures across the US and, in the final chapters, in Europe. Bedroom antics made it notorious, in its day. Cantrill's tour of the boudoirs of Europe, in company with his ride-or-die Indian queen Ghost Woman, kept boys awake at night.
In the film, much is made of the final chapters in which Cantrill and Ghost Woman restore a Ruritarian monarch to the throne, in the guise of a thrilling Wild West show which is actually an excuse to smuggle guns to the rebels. In the novel, this bit takes up less than a chapter and is capped by a daring raid and 'rescue' of Princess Kinbote from an unhappy marriage. Kinbote joins Cantrill and Ghost Woman in the show. This never happens in the film.
There's a lot of money on the table, but why is someone so eager to get all the Burning Sagebrush they can handle?
Option One:Hollywood. The buyer is a studio executive who realizes that the novel is actually coded for some sort of 'kookie European cult'. The executive wants in on the cult and figures that they can curry favor by presenting them with a gift: covering up their deeds. The cult in question is the Keirecheires, which the executive thinks is some kind of upper-class supper club. The Keirecheires is the inspiration for the Ruritarian romance. The cultists don't mind the book so much, but they become concerned when Hollywood comes knocking on their door. Surely this little man doesn't want to film their activities?
Option Two:Kinbote. Formerly Annie Love, a star of the British stage who happened to go round with Cantrill's show for a while as the poor victim rescued from the clutches of wicked Ghost Woman. There's a bit in the British version of Cantrill's novel that Annie Love, now a woman of leisure living in Brighton, really would rather the world not know about. Turns out those clutches were clinches, and there are photos to prove it in the British version. Unfortunately for Love the ghost of Cantrill is just as eager to see his work in print as she is to keep it out; it's a struggle between a dead man and a living woman as to who will come out on top.
Option Three:Ghost Woman. Formerly May Lillie, a kid from Brooklyn who saw the world on horseback and ended up running cabarets in Soho through the 1920s after Cantrill's show went bust. She supported herself during the war with unsavory photographic displays; very artistic, but not the sort of thing she wants publicized. However, the Keirecheires, who took those photos, are keen to get them back out there for cult reasons of their own. May Lillie knows the cult of old and is gathering friends from her Wild West days to put a stop to it. She's willing to use the Hounds to find out where the Keirecheires is hiding, but the Hounds aren't friends of hers. She'll sacrifice them to get the information she needs.
Last time it was the Shop; this time, the Street - or more accurately, the Neighborhood. Why?
Because conflict breeds plot, first and foremost, and the Dark Side is all about plot.
However, this is also about the Building.
The Building, if you've forgotten, is that part of the game world where you, the Keeper/Director/Idiot Who Agreed To Write Something expect action to happen. It is where people meet the players, creating plot. You need to have a firm grasp of the Building's scale and what's in it. You do this because the Building is one of the foundational building blocks of the narrative. You need to know where the campaign is going. You need to know where the action is set. Once you have those two things, you can Keeper with confidence.
The Neighborhood is a fundamental part of the Building. This is a part of the game world which the players are expected to inhabit every single session. It might only be for a scene. It might only provide window dressing. Nevertheless, this is the one thing in the game world, apart from the Shop itself, which is a constant. The players will know their Neighborhood backwards and forwards. This applies to all characters. Even the clueless head-in-the-clouds type of character will know where the coffee shop is. The ones who are paying attention will know a lot more than that.
As with the Shop, the players are expected to pitch in and help construct the Neighborhood, at least in rough outline. Each player at the table should contribute one thing. It might be a laundry, it might be a pub, a corner store, a shortcut, a memorial. Whatever that this is, it's theirs. It should come up in play.
The Dark Side is the Keeper's creation, and it's the one part of the Neighborhood that gets built without the players' input. As before, make sure that the Dark Side you design remains true to Rome and the basic principles of the setting, whatever those may be. That way, you can retro-engineer your Dark Side to fit whatever ideas the players come up with.
But with those caveats aside, you already know a ton about the setting that you can factor in. You know what Rome is. You know the basic principles of the setting. You know what the East End is like. You have a pretty good idea of what Cartwright Street is like, and you also know that this is your version of Cartwright Street so it doesn't have to be a carbon copy of the real-world version. It can be anything.
Anything at all.
It may happen that, thanks to decisions made about the Dark Side of the Shop, you already have an idea of what the Dark Side of the Neighborhood looks like. Or at least, an idea of what part of it looks like. Fine. You can expand on that.
For instance, there's the Dark Side Gang Activity (Cartridge Street).and The Gun public house on the corner. It stands to reason that The Gun is a part of the Dark Side of the Neighborhood. It makes sense to expand on that.
There's also those quarry pits next door. A few children drown in the pools there in the 1920s. It must have been a desolate, forbidding place. Those pools of water, deceptively deep, freezing cold. Nobody around to hear anything, see anything. If I were the Rough Lads operating out of the Gun and wanted somewhere to hide, say, a body, this would be the place I'd come.
Added to all that are the Rumors. These are mentioned in the main book; they're clues which may lead to a resource, an item, or something else that the Hounds are interested in. One of these ought to be on the list. After all, the East End is bigger than Cartwright Street. The Hounds ought to have a reason to leave the shop and explore the world around them.
All that said:
The Neighborhood (Bare Bones)
Immediate area: Residential, with Industrial nearby (disused gravel pits).
Wider Area: Mix of industrial and commercial with some residential, mostly low-end. Dock work is one of the main economic drivers. Industries tend to be noxious, poisonous, and not conducive to healthy living. This is reflected in the general health of the people who live and work here. Slum clearance is a government priority, resisted by those who want to keep their homes.
Local Landmarks (Cartwright Street): The Gun public house. The Gravel Pits opposite the shop. The Majestic Music Hall, at the far end of the street. Bomb Damage caused by zeppelin raids, Great War, various buildings up and down the street.
Local Landmarks (East End/Whitechapel): The Crown and Dolphin, where the skull of Ratcliffe Murderer John Williams is kept; Bow Cemetery aka The City of London and Tower Hamlets Cemetery; Execution Dock in Wapping, last used a century ago; Whitechapel Gallery, a public art gallery opened 1901; St George in the East Church; Traitor's Gate, a water gate in the Tower.
In-game, as Keeper, you'd have more information on all of these. However, this is all the information the players get - for now.
As with any part of the Building, the players decide which parts they want to interact with. If they show no interest in the Gun, say, then the Four Things you have on file will never see use at the table. That's why you don't put a ton of work into any aspect of the Building; it may never pay off. But you need to know enough so that, if the players show interest, you can come back to it later and build on that foundation.
Some of this may see use in a background moment but never be developed. That public art gallery in Whitechapel, for example, might get used in a scene where the players meet an important NPC for the first time. The Gun is bound to be used in a couple throwaway moments involving Rough Lads. So you, as Keeper, need to know that these things exist and can be used for moments like this.
Sometimes things exist just for style points. Traitor's Gate is the obvious standout. There's little chance the Hounds will spend a lot of time hanging around Traitor's Gate. There's even a novel by Edgar Wallace with that title which might see more use, in a game about books and book-buying, than the actual Gate itself. It's unlikely to ever become an important part of the campaign and probably isn't even a big tourist attraction, in the 1930s. But it's undeniably British, undeniably London, If ever you were to put together a montage of London Stuff as some kind of video introduction to the setting, it would be part of that montage. Along with some grimy back alley, a Tube Station, the Shop, and probably an auction in some otherwise unremarkable back room, with peculiar looking bidders all in a sweat over some grimoire or other.
Besides, you never know; the Hounds might fall in love with the Gate as a location, perhaps for Magickal reasons. It's always handy to have a kind of Portentous Location in your pocket. Execution Dock down in Wapping has a similar function. There isn't even anything there to look at, not in the 1930s, but the aura, the vibe, the Magickal potential is crucial in a supernatural/horror game.
There are going to be some things you prep about the Neighborhood that will not be given to the players in advance. Example: the area is a mix of residential and industrial. It stands to reason that, at some point, the Hounds will visit someone's house, someone's business. You may not even have a scene prepped for that moment, but the players decided, and you had to Yes, And. You need to have at least a sketch idea of what someone's house looks like, someone's business. Equally, the police are bound to be involved in your game at some point. Criminals too. You need a rough idea what the inside of a police station looks like, what the criminals' hideout looks like. You may never need to know this in play. But, if you don't sketch something in, it's dollars to doughnuts it will come up at the worst possible time and you won't know what to do. Better to have at least a sketch outline handy.
All that said, let's add the Dark Side.
The Neighborhood (Dark Side)
The Gun (Public House, Cartwright Street) Local Rough Lads use this as an unofficial base of operations but anyone with a sense of History or The Knowledge knows that this pub has had a bad reputation for over a century. The landlord, Henry Crowther, is a fence of stolen goods and was, in his day, a backer of prizefighters. One of the prizefighters he backed, Dan 'Lightning' Jones, is the pub's security and doorman. In any scene involving The Gun, at least 1D6 Rough Lads are on hand. Some of the area's best Forgers pay Crowther tribute and can be found at the Gun by those who need Forgers. If anyone needs a body hidden Crowther can take care of it - for a price. Dark Side Pool: 2
[What is that pool, I hear you ask? Simple. It's a Pool from which I can draw Stability Affects. Stabiliy can be affected by, say, witnessing violence or being attacked by someone intending to do serious harm. This Pool means that, in any interaction involving the Gun, I have the option of drawing on that Pool to create affects which might cause a Stability check. Not a large one; after all, at the Gun, human opponents are the most likely.]
Gravel Pits (Industrial Waste Site, Cartwright Street) Back when this was still a working site piles of spoil and rubble ended up here, and huge holes were dug. Nobody's used this in a long time but nobody's paid it any attention either. There are rats as big as cats out here; in fact, cats stay far away. On a lonely moonlit night the moonbeams playing on the still waters of the pools in the pits is almost beautiful. On any other night it is a forbidding spot. Rough Lads sometimes come here on their own business, and children make it their playground during the day. Who knows what's hidden out here? Dark Side Pool: 3. Potential Magick: 1
[See Supernatural Creature at a distance is a potential 3 point check and it makes sense that something like that might happen here. Ghosts of dead children, rat things, possibly ghouls ... Also, Magick is a resource in the game that sorcerers can draw on. Usually it's part of a magician's personal pool but, this being Bookhounds, one of the central conceits of the premise is that Megapolisomancy, the magic of the city, is a thing. It makes sense that parts of the city can be drawn on to create magical levers, or magical affects. Thus in any scene involving this location there's 1 pool of Magick which can be drawn on, by those who know how.]
Bomb Damage (Zeppelin Raids, various locations) This reminder of past sufferings marks several buildings in the area. Some wear the marks as a badge of honor but there's something not quite right about the places where the bombs landed. Something hideous, like a wound which never heals and oozes blood. You've seen some very peculiar people fetishize these marks, some of whom you know to be magical practitioners. It's not clear what it all means, but it can't be anything good. Dark Side Pool: 4. Potential Magick: 1
[This is something which can be tied directly to Rome, if the characters taken an interest. Even if they ignore this potential plot point, since the Damage is on several buildings in the East End you can have them pop up in different scenes at different times. It's not like, say, The Gun, which can only be found at a particular point on Cartwright Street. The Damage can be anywhere. There were raids up to 1917 and it's quite likely that witnesses to those raids are still alive and living nearby, so if the Hounds want to start using those social skills now's the time to do it. As Keeper, you can invent a raid rather than use a historic one, but it's your shout.]
The Majestic Music Hall (East End) This home to variety acts of all kinds has been here since forever ago, in one form or another. Those with the Knowledge say they used to bait bears and host plays at the tavern that was here, back when Elizabeth was on the throne. The theatre that stands here now was built in 1859 and has hosted pretty much every famous name you can think of. There was a nasty fire back in the 1880s and several deaths, but the place recovered - some would say, thrived - and even the advent of cinema hasn't quite killed it off. It looks a little moth-eaten these days and there are all sorts of unsavory rumors, but you could say that about so many places ... Dark Side Pool: 6, Potential Mythos Encounter (Yellow King related), Potential Grimoire (Yellow King); Potential Magick 2
[It's always handy to have at least one location in your pocket which can turn into a mini scenario at the drop of a hat. You never know when you may need to drop that hat. Sometimes the campaign doesn't go according to plan and you need a distraction for the players while you reorient yourself. Or sometimes you haven't prepped anything and need an emergency backup. That's what locations like the Majestic are for. I see it as a kind of puppeteer location where you can introduce a potential adversary, or as a kind of abandoned tomb (ish) which can be looted by the greedy.
Big fan of that channel. Loved it ever since the Extra Credits early days at the Escapist.
This week's post is inspired be the bit at about 6.50 in, where the conversation turns to clippings from magazines preserved by eager children.
The magazines would have been 1850-60ish. Fast forward about 70 years and those children are in their dotage, fondly remembering Christmas Past and looking forward, with some uncertainty, to Christmas Future. Probably very near future, in some cases.
Lest Old Acquaintance Be Forgot
There's a sudden uptick in demand for magazines published c. 1850-ish. Heavy on the ish. The magazines need to be in pristine condition to get the real money, but there's a demand even for the indifferent stuff. Given that the magazines in question weren't made to last, indifferent is the standard rather than the exception.
The Hounds soon discover that this demand comes from the four grandchildren of Oliver Packer, a noted occultist and enquirer into the uncanny. The Hounds may even have relied on Oliver's expertise from time to time. While he doesn't go on adventures anymore, (not with his lumbago), in his day he was quite the active rogue.
Technicolor: Oliver spent several seasons exploring Egypt's mysteries and his house is practically a museum, filled with peculiar antiquities.
Arabesque: Oliver is (and was) an explorer of the ghostly byways of old London and knows more about the hidden side of the city than any two other people.
Sordid: It's said Oliver bargained for his longevity with hideous creatures that dwell beneath the Thames, making who knows what kind of sacrifice.
The grandchildren, Thomas, Alice, Quentin and Prunella (aka the Prune), are jockeying for position. Each of them thinks they might be the one to inherit Oliver's fortune and are sucking up to the old boy. One of them hit on the idea of presenting him with a collection of his favorite magazines from his childhood, and are using an old bound collection of Christmas clippings as a means of identifying the magazines he read as a child. Once one of them had the idea the other three copied it, and now they're all chasing after Oliver's past in hope of presenting him with the perfect Christmas present.
However, while they can identify most of the magazines (and have bought up reams of the stuff) the one thing they can't identify is something called the Barchester Sampler, apparently published between 1848 and 1853. The illustrations purloined from the Sampler are among the most evocative, and the grandchildren are keen to complete the set. Can the Hounds help?
Option One:Barchester Bull. There's no such town as Barchester. It's a creation of Anthony Trollope, who used it in his Chronicles. However, what the grandchildren don't realize is that Oliver's father, Roger, was an amateur artist and printer who created the fictional Sampler for his son. Oliver, who is no fool, knows full well what his grandchildren are up to, and encourages this snipe hunt as a means of teaching them a lesson. However, there are plenty of unscrupulous people out there - possibly including the Hounds - willing to forge a magazine or two if it will get them easy money.
Option Two:Barchester Dreams. While Trollope created Barchester, young Oliver extended it. In his youth he was a Dreamer and made regular forages into the imaginary landscape of England, including Barchester. Oliver brought back the magazine scraps in his wanderings. Oliver has been trapped on the mortal side of the Gate of Dreams for some time, thanks to a ward put up by his enemies in Dreamland. However, if someone else can make the trip across the veil they might be able to bring back a complete set of the Sampler. Or even get Oliver back into Dreamland again ...
Option Three:Barchester Nightmares. There is no such place as Barchester. Not unless you're prepared to make certain sacrifices while travelling in Somerset, where Trollope drew much of his inspiration. Oliver learned the trick years ago; it was one of the first magickal rituals he created, in his younger days when he was full of vinegar and willing to take all sorts of chances. Oliver learned it was possible to cross from mortal realm to fictional one, but the fictional world isn't the kind of place you want to spend a lot of time in. Shadows gather there. Things which ought not be hide between the pages. Oliver soon abandoned this particular ritual but it can be recreated, by someone reckless and willing to try any kind of blasphemy. It will be even easier if they have that bound volume of Christmas clippings ...
You can't tell me about a drunk trash panda and not expect me to use that material.
Besides, it's December, which is basically silly season.
Tricky Taxonomy
Written as Bookhounds but could easily be transposed to a different setting.
Your Hounds open the shop one day to find the place an absolute mess. Liquor's all over the floor; someone got into someone's booze supply. The devastation does at least make it easy to trace the culprit, passed out in one of the offices (or lavatory): a small, hairy creature unlike anything anyone's ever seen. Possibly some rare breed of fox? Or an animal escaped from someone's private collection of exotics?
Physically the thing is about the size of a smallish housecat, with very prominent and evocative eyes. Its brown hairy body is somewhat ratlike, and its mouth is full of razor-sharp teeth. It could be mistaken for a raccoon by someone who has never seen a raccoon in real life which, if this is Bookhounds, is entirely possible; Londoners don't have much opportunity to see North American wildlife. Even zoos don't keep anything as common as a raccoon, not when there are penguins and tigers to entertain the public.
The liquor, if (for plot or character reasons) it doesn't belong to the Hounds, belongs to one of the staff. They've been hiding it and drinking on the sly during working hours. This staff member is very determined to ensure the Hounds don't figure out whose booze it is.
The creature, when it wakens, has a hideous hangover and will not want to move anywhere for a while. However, it is wild and will lash out if provoked. If forced off the premises, it hangs round, because it has nowhere else to go. This may mean it takes up residence on the roof, probably somewhere near the chimney or in the attic since it's cold outside. If encouraged to stay it is relatively tame, has tidy toilet habits and eats meat with the voracious enthusiasm of a starving weasel. It will bite if given the opportunity, or cause.
Identifying the creature is a problem. Consulting texts in the shop (Biology, History, Outdoorsman) identifies several possibilities, none of which are native to the UK. Maybe it escaped from someone's collection?
Consulting Mythos texts will find descriptions of a similar creature: the Zoog, an inhabitant of the Dreamlands. A relatively intelligent inhabitant ...
Option One: Dreams Made Real Someone connected with the shop - either a Hound or someone who's there regularly, like a customer or a staff member - is a Dreamer. They may not know it. Their dream life may be entirely separate from their waking existence. However, their dreams are beginning to break through into the waking world and this Zoog is merely the first sign of a weakening membrane. The focal point is that comfortable armchair tucked away in a corner of the shop, where they stop to slumber for a minute or two now and again. That chair, and its immediate environs, is becoming a little too close to the Enchanted Wood where the Zoogs live. The Hounds can find this out if they notice the fresh shoots and plants springing up on and around the chair.
Option Two:Moving Right Along The Zoog is from a collection of exotics. This is the star attraction of Professor Phlogiston's Palace of Delights. The Professor, aka Morton Polk, is a Boston native who's brought his collection across the water and, as luck would have it, he's taken up residence not that far from the Hound's shop. His landlady is at her wit's end trying to keep her house in some semblance of order, with all these creatures roaming the place. Polk wants his star attraction back at almost any cost, but he's allergic to spending money. Breaking and entering is more his cup of tea.
Option Three: The Perils of Publication The Zoog escaped from the Dreamlands via a text that the Hounds recently acquired. This text is sitting in the back room while the Hounds work out how much it's worth, and the Zoog is actually one of the illustrations. The Hounds can work out which illustration because now there's just a blank space where it used to be. However, the Zoog isn't the only illustration in that book; there's all sorts of peculiar creatures described, and the Zoog is bright enough to know how to get the others off the page and into reality - if given half a chance ...
This week's post is inspired by this article over at the Guardian. (Fair warning: it's nasty stuff.)
For Bethany Clarke, poison tasted like nothing. There was no bitter aftertaste, no astringent sting at the back of the tongue. If anything, she thought in passing, the free shots she and her friends were drinking at a hostel bar in Laos had probably been watered down ...
This has all been done before. Written down, part of the historical record.
Ethyl - and Methyl! Like Ike and Mike Strangely you look alike Like sisters I have met You're very hard to tell apart - and yet The one consoles more gently that a wife The other turns and cripples you for life.
---
Sits the plumber, man of metal Joining Gas pipes to a kettle Neath the bed his wife is lying Rather silent - she is dying From some gin her husband gave her Too busy now to save her, 'Things,' he sings, 'Are looking upward; I am making stills Soon we'll cook the stuff by wholesale Running twenty mills; What we make and how we make it Doesn't cut no ice. Anything we sell in bottles Brings the standard price.'
Wallace Irwin, Owed to Volstead, from the 1922 Nosenseorship collection
During Prohibition there was no legal means of supplying alcohol. The people doing the supplying didn't care so much what happened to the buyer, so long as whatever was in their bottles had some kind of kick.
If you, as the buyer, wanted some kind of reassurance you could buy right off the boat, newly smuggled in. But there was no guarantee that what you bought was, in fact, the real deal. From the seller's perspective, it was just as easy to sell fake liquor in a real-seeming bottle. Easier, in fact. Which might explain the Guardian's report on gin sold in Brazil:
... a number of recent outbreaks have also been linked to contaminated official alcohol supply chains, where methanol is being added to sealed bottles of spirits and finding its way on to the mass market ...
Ideally, you should test before you drink. God knows how you manage that when you're at a beach bar in Indonesia. To my mind, you can't beat the test proposed by H.I. Phillips in the March 1926 Collier's article, The Book Of Bootlegging Etiquette:
Take a rabbit (which should always be part of the complete kitchen equipment in the modern home) and drop ten drops of the liquor down its throat. If the rabbit dies, it is bad liquor. If the rabbit lives, it is a bad rabbit.
Methanol toxicity (also methanol poisoning) is poisoning from methanol, characteristically via ingestion. Symptoms may include an altered/decreased level of consciousness, poor or no coordination, vomiting, abdominal pain, and a specific smell on the breath. Decreased vision may start as early as twelve hours after exposure. Long-term outcomes may include blindness and kidney failure. Ingestion of as little as 3.16 grams of methanol can cause irreversible optic nerve damage, and the oral LD50 for humans is estimated to be 56.2 grams ... Early treatment increases the chance of a good outcome. Treatment consists of stabilizing the person and using an antidote. The preferred antidote is fomepizole, with ethanol used if this is not available.
During Prohibition, since alcohol is used in a number of industrial processes there was still a need for significant quantities of the stuff, which the Federal Government produced by denaturing (that is, adding poisonous methyl) to the ethanol supplies destined for manufacturing uses. Except, people being what they are, some of that denatured alcohol was diverted for illicit booze manufacturing. Since the Feds hadn't told anyone about their denaturing program, nobody had reason to believe this was a bad idea until the first poisoning cases surfaced.
This caused a scandal, made worse by Prohibition mouthpieces blithering that people shouldn't be drinking alcohol anyway, and those who did deserved everything they got.
Let's talk RPG usage.
Prohibition is a fact of life both in Trail and Call of Cthulhu, since between them the two RPG settings cover the US during the 1920s and 30s. However, I'm just going to focus on Trail today.
In Trail terms, Prohibition runs up till repeal on December 5, 1933. However, Prohibition's been an unpopular policy since inception, made worse by the Depression which started October 1929. People could stomach an unpopular domestic policy so long as everything else, particularly the economy, was more or less okay. The minute the country faced unfavorable economic headwinds, unpopular domestic policies became untenable.
Prohibition became an easy target, made even easier because rich people hoped that making liquor legal, with all the sales tax benefits that implied, would reduce the need for an income tax, letting them off the hook. They bankrolled the popular movement favoring repeal. As luck would have it sales taxes didn't wipe out the income tax burden, but the country was wet again.
Bad Rabbits In Arkham
The Arkham Prohibition Bureau is a standing joke. It wasn't very successful before 1929, but since the Depression its activities became deeply unpopular, made even worse when it raided a high-end restaurant the Mayor favored. Now it's reduced to a couple of agents working out of cheap offices on the corner of College and Peabody streets. These two, Leroy Washburn (a local boy happy to hang off the federal tit) and Martin Keys (an out-of-towner with blunted and disappointed ambition) are all that's left of a much larger unit, dispersed after the Anton's Restaurant incident.
Keys approaches the University with a problem. The investigators may become involved as members of Miskatonic's staff or student body, or they may be hired by the University to assist.
Keys' problem is an outbreak of what looks like Methyl poisoning in some of the cheaper places in Arkham. Several people have been permanently injured and two have died. However, a small number of those poisoned report unusual side effects that don't match the usual toxicity profile, and Keys wants to know if this is something to do with the methyl or if there's something else at work.
Streetwise, Cop Talk or similar Interpersonal, 0 point, indicates the poisoning outbreaks largely affect Lower Southside. 1 point finds a local contact, Dr. Malkowski, who occasionally skirts the law but who can point out four or five gin mills or cheap speaks where the stuff, colloquially called Smoke, is sold.
Pharmacy, 0 point, indicates quantities of Methyl in the stuff sold as Smoke. 1 point spend isolates something else in the mix, a substance commonly seen in embalming fluid. 2 points identify it as Rectifol Corrective, an embalming fluid not manufactured or sold for over 20 years.
Biology or similar Investigative indicates that, in a small percentage of the imbibers, the subject loses their sight for at least 24 hours and, when sight returns, they begin seeing things which aren't there. This causes panic, erratic behavior, and in at least one case, suicidal behavior.
Option One: Funeral Blues. The Depression didn't decrease demand for alcohol but did ensure few in Lower Southside could pay for it. Enter funeral director Jaspar Elizar, who got hold of some bottles, a cheap label maker, and churned out Smoke in convincing gin form. What Elizar didn't realize is his preferred booze substitute contains chemicals best not imbibed, because the visions they induce cause the subject to gain 1 Cthulhu Mythos. This Mythos gain affects people in different ways and causes insanity in particularly sensitive subjects.
Option Two: Occult Blues. The Smoke epidemic is the brainchild of occultist Jason Gaspard, who stole the substances he's been using to make Smoke from funeral director Elizar. Gaspard's goal is to create a visionary. He knows, through his studies, that he can scry into the future so long as he can induce someone of sufficiently sensitive nature to hallucinate under the right conditions. Gaspard, having released Smoke into the 'wild', is now waiting to see which of his unwitting test subjects is best suited to become a mystic future-seer. Once he knows which is the best subject, he'll draw that person into the fold with promises of a cure.
Option Three: They Are There. The Smoke epidemic is just another crime spree, put together by a bunch of low-effort goons desperate for a buck or two. They stole what they needed to make Smoke and are running a cheap gin mill in Lower Southside. What they don't realize is the visions that a small portion of those who drink it (eg. those with In The Blood) see aren't visions at all; those are real creatures which exist and aren't happy about being perceived. These inter-dimensional creatures dimly perceive those Smoke drinkers who can (temporarily) see them and will attack, leaving behind drained and hideous husks of their victims. This will come to an end once the last Smoke drinker dies but perhaps the investigators can come up with a way to save the unfortunate victim(s) before that happens.
When I first asked for your input back in the Before Times there was a lone voice calling out for Cyberpunk content. I listen to lone voices, occasionally.
Let's talk RED.
Akira trailer
What attracts me to Cyberpunk? Nostalgia, partly. I have a strong sentimental attachment to those 1980 sci-fi classics. Blade Runner. Tron. Escape From New York! Dead Zone. Le Dernier Combat. Last Starfighter. Night of the Comet! God, that one is fun. Terminator. RoboCop. Alien Nation! Akira, obviously. Lots of memories wrapped up in those hours.
Then there's the hours, days, weeks playing the tabletop back in uni. You never really escape those early experiences. It's probably why Dungeons and Dragons still appeals, in spite of everything. I collected most of the books over the years. It's not difficult to whip up some old favorites with that kind of bait.
But mostly, it's the simplicity of it. Skill plus stat plus D10 randomizer. Sorted. Not like other games where there might be a dozen dice or more, rules for every possible contingency, and extra books with extra rules for all the other contingencies. It's probably the same thing that lures me into Gumshoe, honestly. D6 randomizer plus pool points, and you're off to the races.
Tell you what I don't like. Save the World narratives. They're attractive, sure. But they keep coming back again, and again. Sometimes I just want the world to stay saved, you know? For ten minutes? I feel like the maid ...
With that in mind, let's talk about some campaign ideas. If you like the look of one, give me a shout. We can talk about expanding it.
To start with:
Long Live The King
Partially inspired by this recent article concerning gang crime in Canada. Briefly: the removal of senior leadership within the Quebec mafia results in increased gang crime, as control over the smaller groups disintegrates.
Rome: the recent (and explosive) removal/retirement of senior crime figures causes a shift in power in the district. All the gangs come out to vie for control over the district’s lucrative enterprises. Everything from protection rackets to numbers running to narcotics is in flux, as younger gangs surge to prominence in a wave of shootouts and rumbles. Nobody knows who’ll come out on top; today’s Little Caesar is tomorrow's statistic. Meanwhile, nobody can get anything done and the cops are no help at all; they’re drowning in wave after wave of violence, unable to respond proactively to any of this.
Our protagonists: a local security firm which has contracts for three conapts and, until recently, was trying to become a player in the market. They had a business relationship with the former mafia bosses and now must deal with the coming storm. Do they play kingmaker? Do they go bust in spectacular fashion?
Main activities: diplomacy both corporate and street, fistfights and firefights.
The Bloody Red Baron
Royal Guardsmen
I have a soft spot for this tune. Blame a misspent youth.
Rome: The medical market is sewn up tight, but there’s always room for an independent in those districts where the corps fear to go. Rippers and medicos need someone with more guts than sense to get in and out of the combat zone. Sometimes it’s a body run, collecting spare parts. Other times it’s an extraction under fire. Runners need a proxy to get their wounded out of a tight spot, or some corporate finds themselves on the wrong side of the line. Meanwhile the poor and the desperate just want medical aid, and they don’t care much who provides it.
Our protagonists: owner/operators of the Red Baron, a ramshackle meatwagon which has seen more firefights than anyone cares to think about. Their mission: to bring mobile healthcare to the desperate and those willing to pay. It’s up to the Baron whether they provide Robin Hood medical aid to the poor for free or at cost, or whether they seek to extract every penny from every customer. Whichever it may be, medical supplies and bodybags are best-sellers in today’s market.
Main activities: thrilling chases and MASH-style medical action.
Tournament of Champions
Rome: People need entertainment. People crave nostalgia. Yes, there’s the Net; yes, there’s Elflines Online. But for the hardcore, the truly grok, there’s only one drug that works: collectible card games. Nobody’s been making those cards for decades. Many of them were destroyed, either in the big bang or what came after. But some survived. For the elite, the best of the best, the geek beyond geek, a Black Lotus is worth more than a mint condition Action Comics #1. Up until now, card collectors have battled in private matches, the backrooms of brick-and-mortar stores, but the dream’s always been to recreate the grand tournaments of old.
Our protagonists: fixers, dealers, schemers, fakers, artists both bullshit and realshit. Sometimes they go out and Indiana Jones their way to a lost CCG collection buried deep in some forgotten pit. Or perhaps they liberate cards from those too gauche to own them. They might fake up whatever they need to make up. Whatever the case may be, they’re now in the enviable (well …) position of being the only ones in Night City with enough nerd clout to be able to organize a city-wide tournament. But how? Where? Who’ll be the judge? In a world without heroes, do these sad sacks have it in them to fake it till they make it?
Main activities: treasure hunting, heists, wheeling-dealing.
Rome: People need to believe. Religion is the opiate of the masses, so they say. But is it bad to spread a little hope, even if you don’t believe in yourself? Those with faith, and those without, struggle with the day-to-day and their personal demons. They cry out. They act out. The faith bunco has kept fraudsters in bucks since time immemorial. What’s one more lie in a world that’s full of them? Except this time maybe it isn’t a lie; there might be a grain of truth in that teeming mass of misinformation. Not that anyone wants to believe that, mind you; the truth is so overrated …
What happens if a fraudster finds faith? What happens if there really are demons out there?
Our protagonists: fakers, exorcists for hire, occultists in over their head. Against them: Maybe nothing but guilty consciences. Or perhaps the heirs of MKUltra, Uncle Sam’s mind control program – or maybe there really is a Legion hiding inside that swine after all …
Founded in 1966, the NYPD Movie/TV Unit was the first of its kind in the country. Because of its relationship with the NYPD, the unit has the greatest knowledge on how to assist productions, particularly with complex shooting situations, in a city that is dense with vehicular and pedestrian traffic.
Whether it conducts filming on bridges, highways, or busy intersections, the unit controls traffic to ensure that companies can get shots that may otherwise be impossible. It also oversees staged "crime scenes" used in the filming of the city's many police-related shows, such as Law & Order and Third Watch. The unit's responsibilities do not end there; the unit also monitors child work permits, stunts, prop firearms, placement of equipment, pedestrian safety, and parking.
While filming on busy New York City streets presents countless challenges, the unit has, over the years, developed a strong working relationship with the film industry. The unit makes an effort to ensure that New York City remains a popular location for filming. Its based in the Sunset Park neighborhood of Brooklyn.
Until the election of Mayor Rudolph Giuliani in 1994, the unit occasionally assisted with pornographic productions. But Giuliani put a stop to this as part of his effort to clean up the streets of New York City. In 1997, porn producer Michael Lucas filed a lawsuit against the Police Department and Giuliani citing discriminating practices used by the Movie/TV Unit against porn productions. The lawsuit was dismissed in September 1998 when a district judge granted a motion to dismiss on behalf of the NYPD.
Rome: Fame, fortune, glitz and glamour. It's a hero's life in the NCPD. All the world knows it. All the world sees the TV shows, the newsreels, the braindances. Someone's got to make sure all those shoots take place with as little drama as possible - well, unplanned drama, at least. Who is that lucky someone? Why, you! Yes, you will have to pull security duty on a porno from time to time (oh, the humanity) and yes, you will have to put up with every would-be Spielberg who happened to convince daddy to bankroll their student project. But the possibilities! You might be a background extra in Manic Slaughterhouse Four! You might get a fleeting appearance on the news! You might find out about the subliminal ... no, better not find out about that, it could be career-ending.
Protagonists: NCPD, medias, rockers - anyone who might look good in a uniform and at least knows the rudiments of cinematography.
Main Activities: security, photoshoots, chases both fake and real, diplomacy both street and corporate.
OK, I have support for an expansion of a Gorgon masks idea first posited here, and for Tombhounds of Egypt.
Why not combine the two?
Let's begin by talking about two core game concepts, Rome and the Building.
Rome, as you may recall, is the endpoint, where all roads lead. This is where the game is ultimately heading, and elements of Rome need to be present wherever the characters go to reinforce that concept.
The Building is that part of the game world where you, the Keeper/Director/Idiot Who Agreed To Write Something expect action to happen. It is where people meet the players, creating plot. After all, if your game world is this world then the characters might, theoretically, go to Chicago, say. But if the game is Tombhounds, why would they be in Chicago? No, your Building is ultimately smaller than that, but you need to have a firm grasp of its scale and what's in it.
Why start here? Because these are the foundational building blocks of the narrative. You need to know where the campaign is going. You need to know where the action is set. Once you have those two things, you can build with confidence.
In this instance, Rome is the Gorgon masks cult. This campaign takes as its central premise this truth from Joseph Cambell, as follows:
The legend of Perseus beheading Medusa means, specifically, that "the Hellenes overran the goddess's chief shrines" and "stripped her priestesses of their Gorgon masks", the latter being apotropaic faces worn to frighten away the profane. That is to say, there occurred in the early thirteenth century B.C. an actual historic rupture, a sort of sociological trauma, which has been registered in this myth ...
Fine. At one point there was a Gorgon masks cult in the Hellenic world, and that cult was overthrown in the 13th Century BC. What happened next? Well, in this timeline whatever parts of the cult survived ended up in Egypt, finding safe haven far away from the heroes who destroyed the cult the first go-round. This is about the same time as the 13th Dynasty, as Ramases II, as the battles with the Hittites. It's a time of prosperity and conflict, with the Sea Peoples in the wings waiting to eat everything alive.
So: in an Egypt that's at the height of its power and about to go downhill, a death cult based around Gorgon masks settles in for the long haul. It's one of many cults in Egypt. So many cults. But this one has a Mythos tinge to it, a touch of madness that will infect the body politic and eventually play a part in bringing it down.
According to myth there were three Gorgons, including the human Medusa changed by Athene into a Gorgon for her impiety. Perseus slew Medusa, in the process creating the horse Pegasus and Chrysaor of the golden sword from her blood. This, in the campaign setting, is the cult overthrow that drove the remnants to Egypt.
That left two Gorgons standing, brother and sister duo Phorcys and Ceto. Tales vary as to whether Phorcys and Ceto were Gorgons or the parents of Gorgons. For purpose of this story, they're Gorgons.
Brother and Sister. You know who else were brother and sister ruling together? The Pharaohs. Marriage between siblings was relatively common. Probably the most famous paring was Cleopatra and her brother. Sibling marriage wasn't accepted outside Egypt, but within its ruling classes it was the standard.
So, to Rome: the Masks of Death, whose self-appointed task is reconstituting the Hellenistic Pharaonic dynasties within Egypt, themselves a relic of the Gorgon cult. The idea of recreating the Pharaohs may simply be a means to an end, the end being the recruitment of willing Egyptians. The Gorgon cult doesn't need Egypt particularly, but it does need people to keep its traditions alive and to make more masks, so it tolerates the Pharaonic delusion to keep the masses happy.
All led by Phorcys and Ceto, brother and sister, the Horus, the Sedge and Bee (nswt-bjtj), and the Two Ladies or Nebty (nbtj). Interesting fact about the Horus: it is associated with gold. Much like that golden sword of Chrysaor ...
Rome: Masks, hidden identities, hidden agendas, Gorgons, the shadowy influence of Egypt's past, the Pharaohs of old returning to take their rightful place.
What of the Building?
Well, there are a couple obvious candidates. Cairo, for starters. Dig sites, and for purposes of the Building it doesn't matter what those dig sites are or where; they're dig sites, and that's what matters. However, this is as much about smuggling as it is archaeology, so it's reasonable to assume that the Building also includes smuggling routes. Let's include Cyprus within the Building as a minor but not unimportant adjunct. Also, smuggling ships of various kinds, sail and steam. Finally, since this is about antiquities, let's assume the Museums of the World are involved to some degree. Include the British Museum, the Louvre, and the Museo Egizio of Turin as rooms within the Building proper. None of these will ever be crucial to plot, but they make excellent background shots for plot reveals.
Also, Patrons. Let's not forget those useful, money-rich patrons.
Which begs a question: do I want to use the Icons system that Pelgrane's developed? Possibly. I should want some time to think about that.
The Building: Egypt in general, Cairo in particular, various dig sites scattered across the desert, Cyprus, smuggling ships, and the Museums of the World with a focus on the British Museum, the Louvre, and the Museo Egizio of Turin. This is where I expect action to happen.
Which isn't to say that action outside the Building is verboten. Just that I don't include a developed version of 'outside the Building.' I've got enough to do with the Building's interior without worrying about detours. The best way to deal with unexpected detours is to have a sketch developed of whatever I want the initial detour to look like, and then Quo Fata Ferunt the rest.
Quo Fata Ferunt, by the way, is Bermuda's motto. I've always found it useful.
[Technically this should have come out last week. I had internet issues.]
It's here at last! Or it will be once I sort out DriveThru.
See, I trusted that Beta system DriveThru has in place. I used the Old Ways for the initial post, the Main Book. That's why you saw that on DTRPG but nothing else; the old ways work. Then I figured I'd use the Beta for the other three in the series.
Well, gosh. Also, darn.
Won't be doing that again.
What I will do is re-post using the Old Ways, so you should be able to see all four books soon.
However! Far be it for me to witter when I could Witter. It's out! It's here at last!
For those of you wondering, the Main Book covers everything you need to know about the main campaign concepts, the setting, important recurring locations, Read House, and so on. That's why that one is set as Pay What You Want. I was in two minds about this. I could have set the price at $4, same as the rest, since in terms of word count the Main Book is about the same count. Longer, if anything. But that didn't seem right, so I went with PWYW.
An Extract!
Rome's Four Things
You know what Rome is, for Many Mansions: Cthulhu in its Chorazin avatar. What does this mean in practice?
1.Dream Logic, especially bizarre and disjointed imagery.
2.A Sensation of Drowning or being trapped in a suffocating situation or location.
3.Empty Houses and Shopfronts, places that have been abandoned to time and the elements.
4.Blank-Faced Creatures or People, wiped clean of all features and expressiveness, with nothing left but a vacant mask of flesh.
As Keeper, feel free to invoke Rome whenever it suits you, or suits the plot.
For example: the investigators walk down a busy street on a Saturday morning. Everything seems bright and cheerful. Until they turn around and look back the way they came and see that the houses and storefronts they just walked past are all empty.
For example: the investigators walk into a dust-filled room. At first they choke and cough. Then their lungs begin to fill with liquid – or is it liquid? Can’t breathe! Can’t breathe! Must get out! Must get air!
For example: the investigators step out of their bedroom and straight onto Broome Street. How did that happen? Why did it happen? Why is it nighttime, when only a moment ago it was early morning? Why do all the clouds in the sky look like laughing faces?
For example: the librarian’s face is wiped completely clean, featureless, blank as the surface of an egg!
The other four books are scenarios in the campaign.
In Memoriam - In which the investigators may attend a funeral in a church that does not yet exist.
When Tides Are Right - In which the investigators may find themselves adrift on Pilot Island.
Your Number, Please - In which our protagonists chase up rumors of a fault on the telephone line.
I enjoyed writing these! I have a weakness for Dream or Dream-inspired stories, it's why I have a fondness for Clark Ashton Smith and Lord Dunsany. This let me play with that idea for ... so many words!
One of my weaknesses as a writer is that I have difficulty believing I can finish a novel-length project. I don't think I'm alone in this. Projects like Many Mansions proves to me - and me is the only audience I care about - that I can finish a novel-length project. Between them, the whole thing's about 60,000 words, more or less.
I'm also getting better at Omitting Needless Words.
See? I Omitted a stack of Needless Words just now. You can't tell, because they're Omitted.
Darn, that feels good.
Anyway! The added bonus is that I could slot in more of these without causing trouble for the existing work. None of them are timeline dependent. None of them depend on another scenario for their plot. Two of them introduce characters who could remain in the narrative but don't have to.
So! Want to see more of these? Then buy these. Encourage your friends to buy them. 'Cause the only thing which will get me to write more is sales, buddy, sales. Also, constant praise. But mainly sales.
I hope you enjoy Many Mansions!
Now, since I've had this in every other Many Mansions boost it feels a shame to leave it out:
J.J. Heidegger, Master of the Revels to the first two Georges, lived and died here in 1749. He was the ugliest man of his age and is caricatured by Hogarth in his print 'Heidegger in a Rage.' He was said to be the originator of the masked assembly which had great vogue on account of the license it allowed. People are willing to do things when masked which they would never dare to do when they were recognizable ...
From Wikipedia:
... the functions of Master of the Revels gradually became extended and the office acquired the legal power to censor and control playing across the entire country. This increase in theatrical control coincided with the appearance of permanent adult theatres in London. Every company and traveling troupe had to submit a play manuscript to the Office of the Revels. The master read the manuscript and sometimes even attended rehearsals. Once a play was approved, the master would sign the last page of the manuscript. The licensed manuscript attesting to the Master of the Revels' approval of a play was a treasured item for playing companies. When traveling and taking a play into the country troupes had to carry the licensed copy of the play manuscript. There was a licensing fee charged by the Office of the Revels for the approving of plays. Tylney charged seven shillings per play ...
The Duke of Montague gave a dinner at the 'Devil Tavern' to several of the nobility and gentry, who were all in the plot, and to which Heidegger was invited. As previously arranged, the bottle was passed round with such celerity, that the Swiss became helplessly intoxicated, and was removed to another room, and placed upon a bed, where he soon fell into a pro-found sleep. A modeller, who was in readiness, then took a mould of his face, from which a wax mask was made. An expert mimic and actor, resembling Heidegger in height and figure, was instructed in the part he had to perform, and a suit of clothes, exactly similar to that worn by the master of the revels on public occasions, being procured, everything was in readiness for the next masquerade.
The eventful evening having arrived, George II, who was in the secret, being present, Heidegger, as soon as his majesty was seated, ordered the orchestra to play God Save the King; but his back was no sooner turned, than his counterfeit commanded the musicians to play Over the Water to Charlie. The mask, the dress, the imitation of voice and attitude, were so perfect, that no one suspected a trick, and all the astonished courtiers, not in the plot, were thrown into a state of stupid consternation. Heidegger hearing the change of music, ran to the music-gallery, stamped and raved at the musicians, accusing them of drunkenness, or of a design to ruin him, while the king and royal party laughed immoderately ... The master of the revels, turning round and seeing his counterpart, stared, staggered, turned pale, and nearly swooned from fright. The joke having gone far enough, the king ordered the counterfeit to unmask; and then Heidegger 's fear turning into rage, he retired to his private apartment, and seating himself in an arm-chair, ordered the lights to be extinguished, vowing he would never conduct another masquerade unless the surreptitiously-obtained mask were immediately broken in his presence. The mask was delivered up, and Hogarth's sketch represents Heidegger in his chair, attended by his porter, carpenter, and candle-snuffer, the obnoxious mask lying at his feet.
From this:
The Bogus Hogarth
The Hounds are asked to authenticate a collection of Hogarth prints that one of their regulars wants to buy.
The alleged collection was compiled by Hogarth contemporary George Steevens and was found at Maids of Honour Row during a clear-out of one of the houses. It's part of a general auction of contents of that house, to be held at the house in a week's time.
Steevens. a Shakespearean scholar and an ardent bibliophile, is known to have been a collector of Hogarth and to have compiled his etchings and sketches into one of the most complete bound, annotated volumes known to exist. Steeven's library was sold at auction when he died in 1800, and the sale catalogue of the auction is kept at the British Museum.
Study of the catalogue will want a 1-point spend, to get access to the British Library, and shows that there was a collection of Hogarth prints sold at the auction to one William Alderson, a known member of the Phoenix Club, an offshoot and successor to Dashwood's more famous Hellfire Club.
Alderson is known to have lived at Maids of Honour Row, according to parish records, for a period in the later 1790s. Steevens died in 1800, which is when Alderson is supposed to have acquired his collection. Could Alderson have left his copy at Maids of Honour Row when he decamped to the Americas in 1805, with scandal hot on his heels after an alleged devil-summoning?
The collection itself is a folio-bound collection of prints, annotated by the binder. It is in remarkable condition for its age and seems to have survived the passing centuries without a stain either on its character or pages.
Close study reveals a curious anomaly. There is a print of Hogarth's Heidegger in a Rage. However, the print in the book does not match the known Hogarth version of that print. In this version, the Heidegger seems fearful rather than outraged, and the mask on the floor isn't the vaguely Punchinello version known to exist in other editions. It's an altogether more sinister version, which someone with Mythos will recognize as resembling the Pallid Mask of Yellow King lore. Assuming the collection is a genuine set of Hogarth with this one curious anomaly, how did this come to pass?
Option One: Fakery. The collection is bogus, planted by a shop rival who wants to lure the regular over to their establishment. They think if they can humiliate the Hounds by getting them to authenticate a fake, the regular will quit the Hounds in disgust and take their money with them. The Heidegger is less a Mythos relic and more evidence of the forger's disturbed mind. The forger has gone one step too close to the mysteries and it is showing up in their work. This could cause problems; funny Hogarths aren't the only thing this forger has managed to bring into the world ...
Option Two: Hellfire Fakery. The Hogarths are real and the Heidegger is an artefact of the period. However, it is not a Hogarth. It was made by Hellfire Club enthusiast William Alderson who deliberately tipped it into the Hogarth collection as a clue to a hidden treasure: his personal copy of the King In Yellow. This isn't the traditional version of the play as it is known to Mythos scholars; the French play was published in 1895, and Alderson was dead long before then. This, according to some scholars, is a translation of the Greek which was the inspiration for the French version. This branch of scholarship has long since been discredited; nobody with sense believes there was a Greek version of the King in Yellow, still less that it was penned by Aristophanes. The idea's absurd. But Alderson clearly believed it ... and Alderson was dead long before 1895, so he might have been onto something ,,,
Option Three:King Fakery. Technically this isn't a fake. It's completely genuine. It just doesn't belong in this timeline. Can a thing be real if it shouldn't exist in this reality? How did it get here? Why do its pages shimmer in the moonlight? Why does everyone seem to be wearing masks? Who are those curious dancers fluttering just on the edge of perception, and why do they smile so oddly? The answer may lie with the shop regular, whose pursuit of the King In Yellow has led them to see elements of that forbidden piece of literature everywhere they go. It's becoming a problem for everyone, as the regular's obsessions are bleeding out into mundane reality.
