A Long Walk In Lovecraft Country (RPG All)

 

Jesus, Larry.

The last time I mentioned Larry Nixon it was because I'd picked up the saddest book, Vagabond Voyaging. That got me on a bit of a Nixon kick, because he also published What To Do When War Comes and I was so fascinated to find out what a travel guy thought about the upcoming global conflict I kept seeking it whenever I went into an antiquarian bookstore. 

Finally I broke down and bought a copy off of the internet (boo!) and since the internet was so helpful I also decided to pick this up. Because why not.

It's the same concept as Vagabond Voyaging. Go on vacation for a dollar a day. The difference being this time it's within the United States, not on a packet steamer going heaven-and-commerce only knows where.

In and of itself there's nothing wrong with the idea. There's a lot in its favor.

He starts the book with a chapter called Shank's Mare. 

The cheapest form of vacationing is found when you do all the work yourself. Spend no money for transportation on train or bus. Walk! Shoe leather's cheaper than gasoline, and while you're out burning some of the winter's fat, you'll add strength and endurance to help you face the long grind in the coming months. Don't pass out your coin in tips. Be your own waiter, cook, bus boy, and hotel clerk. Hit the trail!

Sounds nice, doesn't it? Not relaxing, exactly, but meditative. An early iteration of touch grass. 

Published 1940. 

In 1942, at least a third of his American adult male audience is going to go on an extended walking tour of Europe, North Africa and, for some lucky few, selected parts of Asia and the East. If I had been one of those and had read this book, I would have come back and kicked that Nixon character right where it hurt the most. Never have I read an author whose work entirely failed to read the room. 

Mind, as I said before, I've almost no idea what happened to Larry Nixon. About the only thing I've got on him is a Times obit, June of 1953, which I shall reprint here in full.

Larry Nixon, Director of Public Relations for Hewitt, Ogilvy, Benson & Mather, advertising, died on Wednesday in his home at 42 West Fifty-sixth Street. His age was 56. Mr. Nixon had been in public relations work for thirty years. He was the author of “Vagabond Voyaging” (1938), “American Vacations” (1939), and “See Canada Next” (1940), all published by Little, Brown & Co. He was born in New Orleans and had served as assistant to the publisher of The Billboard, theatrical periodical, editor of Airways, assistant public relations director for Pan American World Airways, and public relations consultant to the New York State Civil Defense Commission. In 1939-1940 he was press representative at the Bell Telephone Exhibit at the New York World's Fair. He also formerly was a partner in the public relations firm of F. Darius Benham and Larry Nixon. He leaves his wife, the former Dorothy Eiser; three daughters, Mrs. Cynthia Falkoff and Robin and Jan Nixon; his mother, Mrs, Leola Nixon, and two sisters, Mrs. Dorothy Younse and Mrs. Mildred Nolan.

No mention of what he did during the war. Presumably he was too old to serve. I note the obit doesn't mention his other book, What To Do When War Comes, of which he was editor. The company he worked for as DPR still exists; it's called Ogilvy these days. 

Honestly, he reminds me not a little of Anthony Scaramucci. If it had been possible in his day, Nixon would have been a podcaster. Just exactly that level of not-famous-but.

Should Keepers buy this book? Well, not unless you absolutely want to. It's a fun read and there's lots of information to help you set sessions in the 1930s, but it's a specialist subject. If you can get it in the library, great! I'd class this in the same category as Ruth Brown Park's book about running book stores. It's handy to have, a source of inspiration. It's not absolutely necessary.

Keepers who might benefit the most from this are those wanting to run sessions of Campfire Tales. While I have a copy I haven't read it yet and don't feel familiar enough with the rules to comfortably run a session. But I am keeping this in mind ...

I will add a warning against period racism. It's not egregious, but it is there. 

There are two parts of Larry's book I'm going to draw on today. One is the shank's mare chapter, the other The Farmer And His Daughter.

Shank's Mare spends a lot of time talking about Walking Clubs. This is the later 1930s and FDR ha spent a decade building up America under the Civilian Conservation Corps program. There are now plenty of walking trails, cleared and established, across the country. On their heels come hundreds of Clubs whose members walk those trails, and who establish cabins along those trails for overnight stays.

Supper-and-lodging is available for two dollars. That pays for your meal and bunk, mattress, pillows and blankets. There are dormitories for men and women. The campfire conversation is free - as is the advice you will get from the local huntmaster, who is always glad to help the stranger discover the beauties of the side trails. Breakfast is seventy five cents, lunch at the hut or in a parcel for eating out on the trail is only half a dollar. Visitors who want to stay all day pay three dollars for their meals and overnight bunk.

Sounds cosy, doesn't it? Much like the Conservation Corps, all this will come to an end in 1942. Parts of it will stagger on during and after the war, but this is a system that relies on civilian volunteers and there aren't going to be many of those in the next few years.

The Farmer and His Daughter describes the common practice of taking rooms at a farm house or plantation (again, period racism). If Larry's to be believed, not only was it all quite nice and civilized, it was a repeat business. Farmers would regularly rent out space to city dwellers looking for time out in the country. Whether they'd rent their own space or build special rental units was up to the farmer. An early form of Air B&B, effectively. 

The food, like the quarters, varies with the territory, the farmers, and the insistence of the guests. If you complain long enough and loud enough the farmer will stock almost any kind of food you choose, but take what is put before you and you'll more than likely gain weight; farmers aren't known for underfeeding.

Beside the conventional sports and swimming, you'll often find specialized farm activities that interest the visitor. The farmer has discovered that his guests like to fuss around and pretend to work. Pitching hay is good for your back muscles and even chopping the garden does something to strengthen you. The first few days at the farm the average visitor will pull the weeds or hoe the corn in frantic energy while farm folks look with wonder at their unpaid helpers. It's the old story of the other fellow's work being more interesting than your own ...

What happens if you rent a farm in Lovecraft Country for your vacation?

A Little Place in the Woods

There's a cottage near Arkham, in Billington's Wood, part of a farmstead owned by Eugene Blanchford. It's something Blanchford got by marriage; his uncle married a Billington, died without issue, and the cottage became part of Blanchford's farmstead. Blanchford values the acreage (all the better for his apple plantation) but had no use for the cottage until four years back, when some Arkhamites seeking a rural vacation spot persuaded him to rent the place. 

Since then, Blanchford's had enquiries from as far away as New York City. The cottage is a miniature gold mine, particularly in the off season just before picking time. He's even had a few who want the place over Christmas, in spite of its isolated location. The wintertime is just like a picture postcard, say his guests.

Mindful of his newfound success, Blanchford has started collecting furniture and other creature comforts to make his vacationers feel at home. There's even a small library, made up principally of books that his people leave behind them but also a small collection of things the family has gotten, over the years.

Including a dusty copy of Ward Phillips' Thaumaturgical Prodigies in the New-English Canaan, with annotations, nestled between the battered S. S. Van Dine locked room mysteries and the Mills & Boon romances. 

Option One: Romancing the Stone. Blanchford asks for help uncovering the origins of a peculiar stone monolith that one of his guests has found not far from the cottage. It has markings on it that resemble Ogham, and Blanchford wonders whether this is a significant find. It turns out that the holidaymaker didn't find it, exactly; they were guided to it by notes in the Thaumaturgical Prodigies, and the stone dates back to the early 1800s, when it was put there by one of the Billington breed.

Option Two: Tree Loving. In a fit of boredom, and guided by notes in the Thaumaturgical Prodigies, some of the Christmas vacationers try out a 'pagan ritual' for jollies. After this, they report seeing something peculiar out in the woods, where they tried their magic spell. Are those trees moving? Why? Blanchford gets involved because it's his orchard; are those valuable apple trees moving about?

Option Three: Former Owners. Some of Blanchford's guests complain of noises in the night. Creaking and muttering that can't be explained by floorboards or rats. Blanchford doesn't want his gold mine to lose its lustre and he's willing to try anything once, so he brings in some bona fide exorcist types to cleanse the place. Turns out one of the pieces of furniture he brought in has an unsavory past: that four-poster bed has seen its share of deaths, and one death in particular lies heavy on it. Are those bedsheets moving?

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Making Hounds Modern (Bookhounds of London)

I know you’re away from your excellent blog at the moment for personal reasons, but when you’re back (not sure if you take suggestions) I’d be really interested in how you’d generally approach updating Bookhounds to the present(ish) day.

Thanks to Fred for the suggestion! 

Would I update Bookhounds to the modern day, as in 2020s? I'm not sure. 

Part of my hesitation is due to the simple fact that there are plenty of modern-day horror games already, some of them very well established. Night's Black Agents and Esoterrorists being the two obvious examples. True, they have a different feel, being espionage-tinged rather than mystery-oriented. But they would be fighting for the same thoughtspace. 

That's a minor issue. 

The larger point has to do with M.R. James and emotional resonance.

Eton's master of ghost stories, M.R. James, was known to wax lyrical on the subject of atmosphere. 

 ... the setting seems to me all-important, since in it there is the greatest opportunity for variety.

It is upon this and upon the first glimmer of the appearance of the supernatural that pains must be lavished. But we need not, we should not, use all the colours in the box. In the infancy of the art we needed the haunted castle on a beetling rock to put us in the right frame: the tendency is not yet extinct, for I have but just read a story with a mysterious mansion on a desolate height in Cornwall and a gentleman practising the worst sort of magic. How often, too, have ruinous old houses been described or shown to me as fit scenes for stories.

‘Can’t you imagine some old monk or friar wandering about this long gallery?’ No, I can’t ...

Roughly speaking, the ghost should be a contemporary of the seer. Such was the elder Hamlet and such Jacob Marley. The latter I cite with confidence and in despite of critics, for, whatever may be urged against some parts of The Christmas Carol, it is, I hold, undeniable that the introduction, the advent, of Jacob Marley is tremendously effective.

And be it observed that the setting in both these classic examples is contemporary and even ordinary. The ramparts of the Kronborg and the chambers of Ebenezer Scrooge were, to those who frequented them, features of every-day life.

In a story-heavy game of this sort, you need to hit the key notes. You need to be able to persuade the players that this is where they want to spend their time. James makes an excellent point about the supernatural: the setting should be contemporary and ordinary.

But.

Emotional resonance requires a shared emotional state. You need to bring the players with you on the journey. You need to make this setting Bookhounds and at the same time make it modern. It needs to feel contemporary to those who inhabit the setting. 

The question then becomes, what makes a setting Bookhounds as opposed to, say, any other game setting, and how to make that modern while at the same time retaining its Bookhounds qualities? 

Once you know that, you can nail the Contemporary bit down.

The global Depression has driven an unprecedented number of collectors – both individual and institutional – to sell off their holdings for whatever they can get. The global crisis has also driven an unprecedented number of over-educated, morally bankrupt aristocrats and resentful would-be Great Beasts to experiment with black magic … including the Cthulhu Mythos. Between the two groups, sellers and buyers, a specialty market has sprung up in blasphemous tomes, no questions asked.

You cater to that market ...

Now, you could argue that sounds a lot like the 2020s, and broadly speaking, you're not wrong. However, I would argue there's a better version of London you could use. One that more accurately fits the great Depression/Great Depravity model, with its resentful Beasts and whinging aristocrats. One that is more Bookhounds than the 2020s.

The London Nobody Knows (James Mason)

Say hello to the late 1960s early 70s. 

You've had the Wars. You've had Suez. Mau-Mau and Maylasia. The Empire is on its way out. There's war damage, bombed out wastes and the occasional still-ticking bomb hidden away in the mess. Thirteen Wasted Years! (of Conservative rule). Vietnam is smoldering away and, while the UK isn't directly involved in that mess, several thousand troops are Over There along with a massive quantity of British made munitions. Mind you, if you don't like Over There there's always Across The Water, in Ireland, where things are getting very nasty. The economy's sputtering and while we haven't quite reached the age of constant strike action, you can see it without a telescope. The country (the world) is months away from an oil crisis, an economic collapse, a banking crisis, and in Britian's case a collapse of the government.

You've got a UK that's all but on its knees, and a London that still hasn't excavated itself from the rubble left behind by Nazi bombs. A London that's lost its shipping status and now has eight square miles of derelict land right at its heart, where its Docklands used to be. 

If that isn't ripe for horror storytelling I don't know what is. 

Added to that, you have the bonus of Fall of Delta Green, which is also a Gumshoe setting. This is happening at about the same time, and you can liberally borrow from it to enhance your game.

How would I adapt the existing rules for this setting? 

Well, the great thing about picking a period like the 1960s-70s is there's less of a need to adapt the character sheet or invent new abilities. Yes, technically there is Computing, but it's such a specialized skill and directly affects the lives of so few that I'd be inclined to leave it to the Boffins, to the NPC experts. Other than that, I don't think there are many, if any, abilities that need to be added or modified. 

I would be inclined to steal the Chase and Thrilling Chase rules from Night's Black Agents, if only to recreate The Sweeny.

                                                                                                                                                                        I don't think I'd change the character creation rules with its heavy emphasis on creating characters who run away. Running away is a good idea. There's no reason to create combat monsters. This still isn't a combat game.

Not sure I'd steal the Cherry rules. Again, this isn't that kind of game. You still aren't playing hyper-competent people. If anything, you're creating barely competent people. Flawed heroes. More likely flawed protagonists - forget the hero part.

What I might steal are the achievement rules. This feels like the kind of game where pools deplete more quickly than the original, and a means of instant refresh midway through a scene could improve play. Besides, in gaming, achievements aren't limited to the Halo and Modern Warfares of this world. Any game can have them. Even point-and-click adventures.  

The biggest rules draw, from my POV, is that you wouldn't have to change the Auction rules.

Auctions are at the heart of Bookhounds. A Bookhounds game without some backroom shenanigans and Lovejoy antics at the sales room just isn't a Bookhounds game.

Lovejoy Action At The Auction

I can't help but think, however, that if you introduce the internet and outside bids to the auction room you need some kind of rules finesse to account for it. Greater Auction pools, possibly, or some means of making the auction a Thrilling contest in the same way Night's Black Agents makes chases thrilling. Which would also mean bigger Auction pools or at least an easier way to get Auction refreshes mid-contest.

Admittedly in the 1960s-70s you have the option of telephone bidding, but it's relatively rare, in-period. You don't need a rules finesse for that.

In any setting change, TBH, one golden rule ought to be Keep It Simple. You can tack on a Stupid, there, if you like, for the whole KISS. Any settings change that lets me keep the major mechanic of the setting intact, no finesse or additional rules, is a good thing.

That's the rules bit discussed. 

However, the biggest setting change would have to be international travel.

There's a travel component in Bookhounds 1930s. You're expected to wander off to forgotten libraries in the Home Counties, perhaps to attend auctions on the continent. No further, though. It is Bookhounds of London, after all. Edinburgh, perhaps Berlin, is about as far afield as anyone expects you to go.

The 60s, though, is the dwindling of the Jet Set era. 

The Jet Set kicks off in the 1950s-ish, with international travel winging across the ocean blue. It's the purview of the rich and brainless, of course. The ones with cash to pay. But it's getting cheaper and cheaper all the time. By the time the late 1960s roll around, flights become truly international. Anyone can go anywhere. 

Which means your Bookhounds might as easily be in New York as Norwich. 

In fact, from a game perspective it might be fun for them to spend some time in New York since that city's famous Book Row still exists. It's dying off, of course. But from a plot perspective a dying Book Row is evocative, as well as a handy source of book stock. Besides, American buyers have deep pockets. You need buyers to keep yourself in the manner to which you would like to become accustomed.

Plus, if this is early 1970s then we're a couple short breaths from turning New York into a Warriors simulator. Which has its own plot lure.

However, and going back to London for a moment, one of the biggest draws to relocating Bookhounds to this period is London itself. You can still find relics of the Victorian age, the Edwardians, Art Deco rubbing shoulders with Nazi bomb sites. Anything you want to still be there in the 1960s can plausibly still be there in the 1960s. This becomes less and less likely the further you head into the future. Many of the things seen in the James Mason documentary (the full version of which is on YouTube) will be gone within a decade or so. 

Not all of them, mind. I'm reading the book on which that documentary is based and just come across a bit where it waxes lyrical about the Bunch of Grapes, a fun little pub on the river currently owned by Sir Ian McKellern and which hasn't changed all that much since it was built. 

AP Archive

Not every pub can have a famous savior, of course. The vast majority of the Docklands the Grapes was built in has long since vanished, including all the pubs that used to be next to the Grapes. Still, the boozer's a highly recommended venue, if you have an hour or two to spare in London. That rear balcony overlooking the river is not to be missed.

Leaving aside locations, this is also the last time period you can reasonably expect to have veterans of the First and the Second World War still living. Retired, probably, in the case of Great War vets, but still living. Whether this is useful to you will depend on your plots, but it can be very handy to have someone still living who remembers X - whatever X may be - and was a first-hand witness to events.

The main book goes to great lengths to describe each section of London and none of that has to change. The East End is still the East End. You don't see the great regeneration of the 1980s and 90s. Canary Wharf isn't even a glimmer in a developer's eye. 

If you've already played Bookhounds in the 1930s then you probably have established locations, NPCs, rivals, bookstores. Some of them will probably still be around. Even the ones that aren't leave memories behind. A place like Du Bourg's, for instance, which was already on its last legs, might have gone under at some point during or after the War. The building may still exist. Is its cadaverous founder still down there in the basement, waiting for its people to read out the finances of the last year?

What I'm getting at is, if you've already played 1930s and now want to move on, relocating to the late 1960s doesn't mean you have to throw everything away. The greasy spoon the 1930s characters went to time after time can still exist. Or, if it's changed and under new management, the management can be the kids or grandkids of the originals. Same for the pubs, the shops, the auction houses - everything stays broadly the same, just with greyer hair and a paunch. 

That eager beaver young constable, for instance, who walked the beat in the 1930s is probably still alive in the 1960s. Retired, likely, or very close to it. Probably had a promotion or two. But he still exists. Old Doctor Farringdon is most likely dead but the surgery he worked in is still there. The pub everyone went to at end of day is still there. Cracks in the walls, most likely, and there may be bomb damage. But it's still there.

Basically, if you go this route, then London is still London and is recognizably the London your players are already familiar with. Changed, yes. But still with enough similarity to the original that you don't have to start reinventing any wheels.

It's also one of the last times you'll see Old English traditions and customs in their unpolished state. Guy Fawkes. May Day. Old football. Cheese rolling. Yes, some of these things still exist in touristified form today, but it is touristified, made safe, made innocuous. It's not the way it was, for good or for ill.

From BFI's Barley Mow documentary

I don't think you'll find that one on YouTube but I recommend seeking out the BFI DVD if you like that sort of thing. Might be on the BFI Player as well; not sure.

In summary: 

If you want to update Bookhounds to a modern(ish) setting, have at it, but I would recommend the late 60s early 70s rather than current modern day. There's enough left of the past that you don't need to change much in your historic background. The rules can stay broadly the same, with some minor tweaks. The major markers of the setting - economic near-destitution, rocky politics, the desolation and depravity of the great and good - are all still there.

Enjoy!

                     

     

Thrilling Assassinations (NBA)

First up, some housekeeping.

I mentioned I might have to take a trip to the UK. Well, fiddle dee dee, life makes a mock of us all. I shall be getting on a plane this week, which means no posts for two, three weeks after this one. Family stuff. I shan't go too deep into it except to say that, if you have any Bournemouth recommendations, I should like to hear them. Not that I expect to have much free time, but it's nice to have options.

This week's post is inspired by recent events in Monaco.

A Ukrainian plutocrat was targeted by foreign assassins and very nearly blown to pieces. The target, Vadym Iermolaiev, managed to avoid death while his wife and their 13-year-old child suffered injuries. The wife seems to have been the most seriously injured. Monaco, famous for its security and serenity, is shocked to its core. Such things just don't happen there. Those security cameras are there for a reason; it ought to be impossible to do anything dastardly in Monaco.

The alleged assassin, 39-year-old Anastasiia Berezovska, was later found dead in what can only be described as suspicious circumstances. It would not be difficult to imagine this as an espionage operation gone horribly wrong.

To that end:

The Fearless Vampire Killers

Roman Polanski's Fearless Vampire Killers

The agents, either Edom or Edom-adjacent, are called in to trace a bomber.

The bomber managed to blow a hole in one of Monaco's exclusive apartment buildings, injuring two, one of whom is still severely injured and in hospital while the other, suffering minor injuries only, has been released. 

The alleged target of the bombing. Cypriot billionaire Chris Dravot, is in seclusion aboard a superyacht in Monaco's Port Hercules. No visitors, no press. Dravot suffered only minor injuries, according to the media.

The more seriously injured victim is supposed to be his wife, Monica. However, agents who poke around that yacht discover that she's aboard too, and perfectly healthy. It was another person altogether who suffered grave injuries, and that person is Edom's own Hound. 

If the agents follow up on this they discover that the injured 'wife' was supposedly transferred to a military hospital in Germany, after her crypto billionaire 'husband' pulled some strings. Only the best for his beloved, after all. Except the injured party never got to Germany. They were sent straight to Proserpine, where Seward is now working to save her life. 

Of course, the agents aren't told any of this. They're just told to trace the bomber, capture alive, and interrogate.

Cue Thrilling Chase scene across Europe, ideally finishing up in a forest in Romania - Hoia-Baciu. There the agents discover the bomber's handlers, agents of Romania's security services, Serviciul Informatii de Externe. They have an underground bunker in Hoia-Baciu, where they plan to carry out their own debrief of the bomber.

Turns out the Romanians believe Hound, and by extension Edom, has been turned to the Conspiracy. This operation was supposed to be a proof-of-concept, and the bomb was loaded with vampiric banes. The more injured the target, the more likely that the target is (preferably was) a vampire, or at least a Renfield. 

The only person who knows exactly what went down in Monaco on the day is the bomber, and if the agents don't hurry up and get her back the folks from Serviciul Informatii de Externe are going to solve that problem permanently.

That's it for this week! See you in a bit.

The End of an Era - Sam Smiths (NBA)

Well.

I come to bury Caesar not to praise him, I suppose, since by all accounts Humphrey Smith is someone I would not get on with, had I met him.

He did run a damn good chain of pubs, mind.

You'll know them if you've ever been in one. Sam Smiths pubs (Samuel being the Smith who inherited the chain back in the 1880s and made it what it is) are unique. They serve their own stuff, exclusively. No televisions, no mobile phones, loud noises and swearing discouraged. Often the pub is in a listed (or at least architecturally interesting) building or has a storied history. 

The Cheshire Cheese, for instance, is one of my favorite places in London, It's Fleet Street's pub. Generations of journos have gotten quietly pickled there. It turns up in A Tale of Two Cities.  Dr. Johnson, Mark Twain, Voltaire, Tennyson, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - they've all stood at that bar. 

Since this is a family-owned concern and since there are still Smiths in the mix I'm going to cross my fingers and say that the brewery will survive. Whether the children will take the same personal interest their father did in the business is an open question. My understanding is that the old fellow used to haunt his pubs like some kind of roving specter. He was not above closing pubs down if something displeased him, and he could be displeased by, say, social media posts. Which seems ... petty. A bit unchristian. 

Grinchian. 

Once shut, Sam Smiths tend to stay shut. After all, the brewery owns the building. It can do as it likes with its property. 

Who knows what the future will bring? A breath of fresh air, a change in ownership, something else? I may be in the UK again soon, unexpectedly, and if so will try to stop by a Sam Smiths before I fly home.

From a roleplay perspective, having a location that remains essentially the same over decades, centuries, is a useful tool. Particularly if it's as unique and identifiable as a Sam Smith's. You can't mistake those for anything other than they are. No TV, no swearing, no socials - it's almost the antithesis of a modern pub. 

From Wikipedia:

Many have frosted windows and stained glass decorations. The interiors often have either brown or beige painted walls, or elaborate wall paper. Some have notable interiors such as the Crown Inn in Wetherby which has furniture by Robert Thompson or the Princess Louise in High Holborn with booths around the bar. Many of the pubs owned by the company, including many that it has acquired since the 1970s, are empty

Speaking personally I can recommend the Princess Louise. Been there many a time. Very cozy place. 

Let's add some RPG elements and say we're talking about The Bull, an East End boozer I mentioned before in connection with NBA:

East End boozer near Tower Hamlets Cemetery Park and on the edge of Limehouse, West India Docks, narrowly missed by Nazi bombs during the war and now a hangout for peculiar characters of all kinds.

Owned by: Ex-IRA (silent partner). 

Publican of record: Charlie Brown (not the Charlie Brown), someone who everybody knows. The police may or may not realize he's a front for the Ex-IRA. Edom certainly knows. 

The Brewer: Bowman Brewery, vans coming and going at odd hours. 

Watched by EDOM via Maggie Canter, Church Scavenger (p96 Field Manual). 

In this version, Bowman Brewery is a stand-in for Sam Smiths. Which means the Bull is like many another Sam Smiths pub. It lacks modern features, has no telly, no fruit machines, swearing is discouraged and the publican lives in fear of that fateful day when a beady-eyed old man walks in the door. 

If Sam Smiths aka Bowman owns the place then, logically, the ex-IRA doesn't. He's very much a silent partner of Charlie's. He helped Charlie Brown out of a hole a few years back and now the publican serves two masters. He owes Bowman his job and livelihood; he owes the ex-IRA everything else. Bit of a tightrope walk, that. 

Incidentally, this is the kind of thing I think of as quintessentially English. Not rolling countryside or fish and chips; this kind of my-way-or-the-highway thinking, where cutting off your nose to spite your face is standard practice.

New Face

Charlie Brown has a problem. One he can't reach out to his silent partner about, one he dare not talk to Bowman's about, but a problem nonetheless.

There's a new face at the pub. 

This is a regular's pub; new faces stand out at the Bull. This one's been coming by once a week, every week, for about a month. Charlie knows them well enough to start pouring out the beer as soon as they walk in the door. 

Here's the thing: whoever this new face is, they're not new. At least, not new to the Bull. 

Charlie first became aware of this when he noticed a photo up on the wall. It's the same old thing Charlie's walked past once a day every day for his entire working life, without paying the slightest mind. Today he glanced at it, then took a closer look. 

There they are. The new face. One of a celebratory group, back in the 1970s. 

They haven't aged a day.

Perhaps Charlie can persuade someone to help him explain his dilemma?

Option One: A Misunderstanding 

They're not the person in the photo. They're the child of, who happens to look exactly like. Except this isn't a coincidence. The new face is looking for more information about bartender Duncan MacNeil, arrested in the 1970s in connection with a string of slasher murders in the area. MacNeil killed himself before trial. The new face is convinced MacNeil wasn't the killer, that the killer still lives, and is one of the Bull's regulars. Are they right? If so, who?

Option Two: Poor Lighting  

The lights either don’t work properly or are being interfered with in some way. Lights are seen on when they shouldn’t be and flicker off without warning. Tradition has it that this is ‘the spook’ monkeying with the electrics. Funny thing; this has been happening more and more often now the new face has shown up. In fact, the only reason Charlie noticed the photo is because the lights happened to go just as he was walking by, and the picture caught the reflected light - or at least, that's how Charlie explains that odd glow. What connection has the new face with the spook?

Option Three: Dead Man Walking

The new face is supernaturally inclined, either a Renfield or something of similar power level, and is here on a mission from one of the campaign's third parties (e.g. the Alraune). Perhaps it's some kind of diplomatic gesture, perhaps it's enemy action. Either way, the Bull has become the center of everyone's attention. The new face isn't the only one in that photograph who's about to come back for a return visit, but if the characters don't figure out why then things could get very messy.

That's it for this week!

I Hate Drawing (RPG All)

 

OK, that might be exaggerated. Hear me out.

I'm not a visual thinker. If I want to describe a scene I don't picture the far-off hills or the shadowed forest paths. I suspect one of the reasons why I go for the Rule of 4 and Rome is that these rules force you to think about what goes into the soup, to create a recipe. That recipe can be made to fit different paradigms, but it's the same recipe. The recipe used to make tiramisu can be adapted to make ice cream. Theoretically the recipe used to make carbonara can also be adapted to make ice cream, but I make no promises as to taste. Eggy, though. Creamy. With a hit of salt and umami.

Drawing leaves me cold. Forcing the recipe to fit into a particular box is no fun. I appreciate the necessity. Not everyone thinks the way I do, and some people need the formula. 

Ratatouille 

Yes, there is a flow to the diagram. It directs along certain lines and paths. Theoretically you can refer to it when in need to provide a sense of plot direction. But because it's not how I work or think, I find this kind of thing frustrating. So long as your technique is on-point you should be able to flow with the recipe and embrace the end result. 

But!

Let's think about this from a design perspective. 

Let's say this is a murder mystery, It doesn't matter, for this example, whether it's a locked-room puzzle, a cozy, a whodunnit or some other kind of mystery. There is a body on the floor and our heroes have to find out how it got there, and why.

The body is the opening scene. Theoretically there can be a scene prior to this where the characters are introduced to the victim before they hit the floor, find out a little about them, what-have-you. But for purpose of this example the body is the opening scene.

From that scene, questions follow.

What did they die of?

How was the means of death administered?

When was the means of death administered?

Who had the opportunity, means or motive to administer the means of death?

Some of these questions can be answered in the opening scene. If the victim's head was bashed in, and there's a bloody crowbar lying nearby, safe to say you've found out what they died of and how means of death was administered. You may also have eliminated the weedy secretary from the list of suspects, since it would take significant upper-body strength to do what's been done and the secretary's arms are scrawny.

That said ... suppose the victim was poisoned first and lying on the ground. A toxicology report would show that one way or the other, as might blood splatter. The weedy secretary might be back in play, since it would be easier to do what's been done while the victim's lying face-down. In fact, since that's the only way the weedy secretary might have done it, and that's the way it was done, signs are beginning to point in a weedy direction ...

Point being, each of these questions can be a scene in and of themselves, which means they all need a spot on the diagram. What began with one box becomes many, with arrows pointing hither and thither. 

Let's start with two boxes.

One is the opening scene. The inciting incident. Call it what you will.

The other is the end scene. However the detectives get there, this is where they'll end up. The murderer revealed.

All those boxes in the middle? Some of them are set dressing, some red herrings. Notice in the drawing above that the boxes are color-coded and shaped in a particular way. That allows me to see at a glance which scenes are directly relevant to the plot and which not. 

There will always be something interesting to do in any scene. Whether or not the interesting thing is also plot-relevant ... well, Doctor Watson's in Sherlock Holmes for a reason. Without him, the stories would be a boring recitation. This-is-how-it-was-done. Yawn, But, with him, a plot-relevant character wanders in and out of intriguing situations, finding things out. Not all those things are as important as they seem at the time, but they all seem important at the time. Eye-catching.

So, to sum up: the diagram might look like a spaghetti nightmare. Nevertheless, it follows a recipe. It has the same rule of 4 and Rome as any other plot. Difference being, it fits those things and Rome into a skeleton which can be referred to, as needed, to give you a sense of plot direction. 

The important things remain the same, Something interesting to do must be in each and every scene, whether it's set dressing, a red herring, or something else.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some drawing to do.

 

Ghost Town Goussainville, Val-d'Oise (RPG All, Esoterrorists)

Once upon a time I said:

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.

Voyage en Île-de-France

In the previous post I said:

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:

AP Archive

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?

That's it for this week!

 

UK Booty Haul

OK, last week it was all about the books and blu-ray. This week it's the RPG stuff.

Cranfield was ... odd ... in the vendor hall department. I mean, the establishment's huge. But the vendor section was a room behind the bar. Nice room. It got a little hot in there, not much air flowing through. I wouldn't want to be in there all day. Drifted in and out a couple times, was tempted by this and that, thought of my suitcase with tears in its nonexistent eyes, that sort of thing. 

In the end I walked away with:

Rivers of London, main book, Underground/Overground. 

Yes, I know. I know! But some temptations can't be resisted. I really admire Aaronovich's work. That's why I agreed to write for the setting, but I never did get the physical of the main book and Underground/Overground collects all the short scenarios including the one I wrote. I already have the physical of Liberty's Shadow. That's enough for now. 

Plus, Underground/Overground has variant spell rules and a system for playing foxes. How hard can any gamer's heart be? Could you resist those soulful brown eyes? I remember seeing Reynard all over London, when I lived there. A natural fit for the game.

I wasn't that tempted by the pleather version. Granted, pretty. But our climate is death to that sort of thing. That said, your milage (and climate) may vary.

Campfire Tales: Scouts Against Cthulhu.

OK, this one had to sell itself. I enjoy a bit of nonsense. But this was setting off alarm bells. Honestly, if several of the organizers hadn't turned up in full Scouting rig (mentioning no names, in part because I can't remember them) I might have turned my head. I shan't say they inspired me. I shall say they caught my attention, and the book did the rest. 

This is meant to be a more survivable kind of BRP, which I think probably suits it best to an in-between kind of game. A relaxing change of pace between more grueling adventures. But I could be selling it short. A campaign of this might be what the doctor ordered. 

I'm not sure how much use I shall have for Westhaven, the setting in the book. I mean, this is Cthulhu. Arkham's right there. Kingsport too. It makes more sense to my addled mind to use those locations. But your milage may vary. 

Malleus Monstrorum. Because you need something with tentacles in your life. Plus, it was on sale. It did force the Arkham book out of my hands, though. There wasn't a chance I'd squeeze both this and the Arkham book in the case. Hard decisions had to be made. Over 150 entities gruesome and otherwise? OK, sold. I didn't pick up the cards, though. Again, suitcase. There are limits to any creature's endurance and I knew I'd be going to Birmingham later.

Speaking of.

 

That is the queue for badges and entry passes, Thursday afternoon. Good night. The picture does not convey the heat. There was very little air down there and no air conditioning. It was no joke. I flat out do not understand how anyone thought building an Expo center like that without functioning HVAC was a good idea. You might as well fling gunpowder into a furnace.

But!

The queue moved quickly. I picked up the bits for myself and a mate, and we braved the nonsense on Friday from the moment the halls opened. 

Did I buy books? I did not.

Was I severely tempted? Yes. But not by books, so much. I did get a small pile of other stuff, special dice, mats, that sort of thing. You can't find these down here. Cons are the only chance I have to get them. 

No, I was tempted by this:

Footsore Miniatures

Now, this might in part be because I was with an old tabletop buddy (Keiran, you villain!) but I felt the tabletop urge again. I used to be an enthusiast. No good at painting, mind, which is about 90% of the hobby as far as I can make out. Much like about 90% of tabletop RPG is talking about playing, rather than actually getting around a table and playing. But it was a big part of my life. Skirmish gaming is always easier to find a group for than Napoleonics because, although the Napolean crowd is dedicated, it takes a lot of time to set up and play. I still shudder at the memory of one dark day when we spent the better part of an hour setting up and placing units, only for the other player to concede two turns in. No, the other player did not help put the terrain back. 

Whereas a brief skirmish between two or more factions on the streets of Rome (or in my case back in the day, a gunfight in a nameless Western town) is much quicker to arrange and play. 

Pictures like these are the crack in the cocaine. You look at something like this and inspiration hits. Never mind that my painting skills are not up to the task. I can see this, in my minds eye, spread across a table at gaming night.

I did not buy it. Nor did I buy any of the solid, paintable Bloodbowl (or possibly Bloodbowl knock-off) stadium sets I saw on sale. I still have a team hiding in a box somewhere. Two, actually. Nor did I buy any of the Chicago Way stuff, tempted though I am by its setting.  I think I still have the ruleset somewhere, though that may have changed.

That's the rub, honestly. You get to a point in your collecting career where you look the temptation square in the eye and say, I haven't the space or the time. Other things bring me joy. I shall pay attention to the other things.  

There will be a period, about a month, where I wonder whether I ought to have done thus or so.

Then the image will fade and I shall go on to other things. 

Till next week!