Crime Scene (Night's Black Agents)

Things are progressing but I'm still not 100%. 

In Cthulhu style games, no matter the system, there's nearly always an element of investigation. The protagonists are trying to find out who did what to whom and why. Broadly speaking, they act as police (unless, of course, they are the police). They have the same objectives and work towards the same end result.

 Sourced from Maria Lenarduzzi

What do the police do?

First, they secure the crime scene. 

Then they conduct initial investigations of the scene.

They interview witnesses.

They collect evidence for further study.

Let's say we're dealing with an event at an occult bookstore, and for purposes of this experiment I'm going to borrow the bookstore from the Nights Black Agents Free RPG day scenario The Van Helsing Letter:

Pierra Athanese runs a small bookstore in the French city of Strasbourg, close to the German border, and the game begins as the Agents arrive there. The occult bookshop is called Athanor. It’s at the end of a narrow, winding dead end street in the medieval Grande Île district of the city. 

Further, I'm going to assume the Disgraced Doctor (cameo, Double Tap) is in this scene as a witness.

Rielle knew her days were numbered during med school. The Oxycontin addiction was getting out of hand, even for her standards, and she really didn’t want to put out a shingle and spend fifty years wiping snotty noses and listening to old people complain about lumbago or gout. So she just never “applied herself” and after she graduated, she never went on interviews. Which is fine, interviews are for suckers. She dresses down; jeans and sweat shirts, just like residency.

The exact nature of the crime doesn't matter so much, but let's call it assault. Someone came into Athanor and beat the snot out of shop owner Pierre. The characters arrived on the scene just after this happened. Pierre is oddly reluctant to say what happened.

Secure the Scene Crime scenes are fragile. They are a snapshot in time and the more time goes by the blurrier that snapshot looks. That's without even considering those who might damage it by removing evidence, adding evidence, or just generally being a pain in the neck. 

In this example the protagonists aren't cops. If anything, they're the opposite. They have no official standing so they're going to have to rely on personality and perseverance to keep the scene secure. This may involve posting a player character on the door to make sure nobody gets in. Someone will need to go round the shop making sure nobody else is on the premises, that there are no other ways in or out.

Conduct the Initial Examination.    If this were a homicide, the first thing the detectives would do is ignore the corpse. It isn't going anywhere. Of all the things in the scene, it's the least likely to change in the next few minutes, and it's going to be investigated carefully so odds are any evidence will be found. Whereas the scene itself is mutable, and this is probably the one time it will be looked at carefully. Anything not found now will likely never be found.

In game, as Director, you need to ensure that there's at least one clue in this crime scene that leads somewhere. Depending on how complicated you want the crime scene, you could plant multiple clues. You may want multiple ways to find that same clue, if you think the players might not have the appropriate pool or not use it when needed.

In this scene, Forensics (possibly Outdoor Survival or Reassurance on witness Rielle): there's some wet footprints on the floor. It hasn't been raining, but there is a puddle out back of the shop; water collects there due to bad drainage. Whoever left those marks came from the back of the shop. There's an alley there which isn't easily seen except from a neighboring bistro, The Drunky Fox Social Club. The alley serves both the bookstore and the bistro's kitchen.

Interview Witnesses. There are two in the scene, disgraced doctor Rielle and the shop owner, Pierre. Witnesses are valuable for detectives because at some point they need to convince a jury that A happened because of B. Witnesses are very persuasive; people tend to believe their lying eyes. 

For protagonists in a game like this, juries are the last thing on their mind. They just want evidence, any kind of evidence, to lead them to the next scene. The question is, are these witnesses truthful?

Pierre is keeping his mouth shut. He says he didn't get a good look at them, it all happened so fast. One of them wore a brightly colored shirt. The other spoke German. That's all he remembers. Bullshit Detector knows he's lying.

Rielle is also in the scene. She was in the back of the store, browsing, and the attackers didn't know she was there. Pharmacy or a 3-point Medic notices her calmness, apathy and short attention span - classic signs of opiate addiction. This suggests she may not be a reliable witness. She says there was only one attacker and that he was short, cropped hair, wearing a hooded jacket with a logo on it. She doesn't remember the logo.

Again, you could put more than one clue in this scene, but a lot depends on how complicated you want to make it. You already have one clue - the footprints. Another clue here is fine, but add too many and you'll be drowning in clues.

I would put in one clue and make it obtainable from either witness. Interrogation on Rielle, Intimidation on Pierre. Use the wrong technique on either witness and they clam up, making the clue unobtainable from that witness.

The clue: the attacker was finishing off an energy drink as they came into the shop, and dropped it on the floor. That can will have fingerprints, maybe even DNA evidence, which will help to identify them.

Of the two witnesses, Rielle is the more reliable, but the players won't know that.

Collect Evidence for Further Study. This will include that can, which is still there on the floor whether the players got the clue from the witnesses or not. The players still have a chance to pick that up. They could examine Pierre's injuries, to see if the damage was done by a professional or an enthusiastic amateur. They could look around the shop for further evidence. 

Again, I would be inclined to have only one clue available from this avenue of investigation, but notice how these clues are piling up. It's a simple scene, but we already have two significant clues. A third one can be had by collecting evidence, and in this case I would be inclined to have that clue available to those who follow up on those wet footprints. They lead to the alley which is next to the Drunky Fox Social Club, and if they go there they discover that the attacker came back through the alley, into the bistro's kitchen, and out through the front of the bistro. On their way, the attacker dumped a hooded jacket into the bistro's garbage, probably attempting to change their look in case they were being followed. Witnesses in the bistro (Reassurance) identify the attacker as a woman with close cropped hair; opinions vary as to whether her hair was blonde, dark or artificially colored. All agree she was short and muscular. The jacket (Streetwise, possibly Urban Survival if the character has Strasbourg as a familiar city) has the logo of a Strasbourg martial arts dojo. 

Once upon a time I said about scenario design:

In summary: yes, you want a series of scenes that connect up to reach certain Core moments which, in turn, lead to a resolution. There will be a certain amount of improvisation but improv doesn’t solve all your problems. Improv is a support for your existing structure, not a replacement for that structure. 

Crucially, you need to bear in mind that your structure isn’t some magical castle in the clouds that can only be reached by imagination wizards. Your structure is very simple. It starts with this:  

You put yourself in the characters’ shoes and ask yourself, if I had to answer this question, what would I do? 

The same design principles apply here. Slightly modified, because this time you're not putting yourself in the characters' shoes. You're putting yourself in the attacker's shoes, the person committing the crime. You ask yourself, if I had to do this thing, how would I do it? From there, you piece together a line of action which in turn leaves a trail of clues. You entered from the back of the shop, you did what you came there to do, and you left the same way, trying to throw off pursuers by changing your appearance. 

Each of these activities has the potential to leave a trail of clues. You know this. The question is, what clues, and how best to collect them?

Enjoy! 

 

Blocks (NBA, Dracula Dossier)

Without wishing to post private business, things at my end got very complicated this week. Still processing. This will be a short post.

From the main book:

[Blocks are] something that blocks the passage, attack, or influence of a vampire. It may be an absolute bar, or she may be able to penetrate it with a successful Aberrance test against Difficulty 8. Penetrating a block may still do damage: +1 per incident, or per round spent across the block. Many banes (fire, holy water, iron, sunlight) also act as blocks.

 Fright Night (1985)

Two of the most famous Blocks are running water and crossing the threshold. Some might be forgiven for thinking that vampires have peculiar tastes.

Rivers and streams have a long body of folklore, predating written history. We sometimes find old remnants of these practices, sacrifices to the river gods. In Greek lore you might sacrifice to the river spirit to ensure safe crossing for your troops or give up something valuable to you in exchange for magical favors. You could enchant items in rivers for future use; if you knew the right ritual, you could bathe a silver coin in that running water and turn it into a lucky piece.

Thresholds are the boundary between the house, which is protected by house spirits, sometimes called genius loci. The Romans would maintain regular sacrifice to their house spirits to ensure good fortune. You hear echoes of that belief in stories about pixies, imps and similar who will work tirelessly for the family but which can take offence and leave, say, if someone gives them new clothes or new shoes. People would bury black cats in the walls of a new-built house, or put a penny under the hearthstone before it was laid. I know of at least two local examples of someone burying kinfolk under or near the front porch of the house. In one of those examples, the bodies were unearthed by accident when a future owner decided to lay some new plumbing. Now, whether they did that out of some folk memory or just to keep their loved ones close is an open question. But if you assume that entombing a cat in the foundations can give you protection and luck, how much more potent would a person be?

All of which to say. it's not the vampire who has peculiar tastes. The vampire knows what we have forgotten; that there's something in that river, in that building, which prevents them gaining access. To the vampire, that thing, whatever it may be, is probably as visible as a brick wall would be to us. If the Block is being caused by spirits or ghosts, the vampire can see those spirits or ghosts. 

Which suggests that the vampire can, if so inclined, bypass those blocks. If they really work at it.

It makes sense that the Block means something more to vampires than a simple wall, some supernatural version of the Go To Jail monopoly card. Or, in NBA terminology, some Mutant or Satanic version.

With all that in mind, and borrowing from the main book:

[Satanic] This is a full-blooded vampire, a descendant of Vlad the Impaler. Blocks: wild roses.

Evocative, but why?

It's said that when the Virgin Mary kissed a white rose it blushed and turned red, creating the first red rose. When the infant Zoroaster was placed on burning logs in an attempt to kill him, they turned into a bed of roses. Bacchus, when chasing a nymph, is supposed to have been blocked by a wall of thorns which he turned into a wall of roses, and then back into a wall of thorns when it suited him.

Given we're talking Satanic, the Virgin Mary connection seems the most suitable. The rose and its thorns are beloved of the Virgin Mary. When the vampire sees this plant it doesn't see a simple rose. It sees the Virgin.

Presumably there's something about the cultivation process which robs the rose of this association. So roses grown for a flower shop wouldn't do. But perhaps a rose bush encouraged to grow along the wall of, say, a convent, would, inasmuch as the roses aren't cultivated or controlled, just allowed to grow in a particular location.

[Alien] Fully awakened, an alien stone is a being of unfathomable power, potentially capable of altering gravity and space-time within tens of miles. Blocks:  chaotic streams (running water, random charge fluctuations, anything else that cannot be perceived as a whole. 

Again, evocative, but there are plenty of things that cannot be perceived as a whole. Oxygen, for instance. I'm sitting in a ton of it right now. I can't see it, and I can't perceive the full extent of it.

Would a running hose be sufficient to block an alien vampire? 

What even is a random charge fluctuation, in-game? Is this like the TV version of an electrical charge, all blue lights and crackly noises? Are we just talking static electricity? Could you Block an alien vampire by wandering around in a lightning storm?

The text suggests that they 'created' humans in their image, a result of early contact between the stones and our distant soon-to-be-intelligent ancestors. The text also suggests that perceiving their own perception sets up a feedback loop, trapping them in their own consciousness. I would be tempted to suggest that something like running water works in the same way; it forces them to perceive their own perception. Water reflects, after all. Running water also reflects, just not in a way easily understood by the onlooker. This would make something like the alien stone, to whom perception is all, frantic, their 'minds' constantly racing in an attempt to understand the thing it is 'seeing.'

Anyway, that's as far as I care to go this week. 

Next week, more stuff! 

Zero Company and Villainy (RPG All)

 

Zero Company final trailer

I've never been a huge Star Wars fan. Saw the original when it came out, loved the first three films, and after that just dropped off the rock. Gameplay-wise, I've never enjoyed shooters and flight sims only interest me if it's Great War biplanes stuff, so the Star Wars franchise never caught my attention.

However, I am an X-Com fan. 

When people started describing Zero Company as X-Com but in the Star Wars universe, I was on board.

This isn't Not Quite Review Corner so I shan't go into the bits and bobs, except to say that there isn't as much X-Com here as I'd hoped and the game overall feels as if they had a lot of ideas and not much execution. Plus, for a hero-based game, no romance options, which seems a little boneheaded. Even X-Com's Chimera Squad, which this closely resembles, hinted at relationships between the characters. The closest Zero Company gets to this is Bennic's puppy dog eyes. 

No, I want to talk about villains this time out. 

Once upon a time I said:    

The problem with villains is, too often they exist only to do one thing: be foiled by the player characters. Villains are punching bags, paper Nazis, colorful targets that sit on the far end of the shooting range and never shoot back, or at least not accurately. There’s nothing unique about them, nothing that makes the players think ‘I want to know more about this guy.’ If the players don’t feel engaged by the villain, they won’t respect him, and at that point the whole thing falls flat ... Consider this tactic, when designing your own villains. Find out what they want, what they fear people will find out about them, what they’re prepared to kill for. 

Zero Company has this problem in spades. 

Star Wars in general has a villain problem, to be honest. The setting doesn't have that many honest-to-God villains and, when it finds one, it re-uses that character again and again till whatever personality they once had has lost all meaning.

Fathom is the worst example of this. The definition of a punching bag. I have no idea what she wants or why she wants it. I know she's doing Bad Things and, as the hero of the series, I have a vested interest in stopping Bad Things. 

She has subordinates, Cultists. I have no idea what they want. Or why they let themselves get infected with this plague that seems to be the McGuffin of the narrative. It gives them cool powers and cool powers make the world go round, so here we are.

Let's design a cult. I haven't done that for a while.

Cults recruit on broadly the same principles as spies. They go MICE - money, ideology, coercion, ego. 

Cults, like OPFOR, have the same important characteristics:

1. Power, appropriate to their function within the narrative.
2. Goals.
3. Assets, to be used to achieve their goals.

Let's say for the sake of it that this particular cult got its start in a card game during the Great War.

Six young men sat in a bunker playing cards, waiting for orders. The game intensified. All eyes were on it. The stakes went as high as they possibly could. Then, at the moment of revelation, enemy shelling obliterated the bunker, and only one of those men survives.

That man is convinced that providence spared him only because the game wasn't over, and if it ever ended somehow, at that moment he'd die. 

He collected all the playing cards used in the game. The only one missing was one of the aces; he has no idea what happened to it, but he's convinced it's still out there. 

That man became the nucleus of a peculiar cult: the Players. 

It started within his unit. Just a few listeners to his crazy stories. They didn't take him too seriously, but it was a fun story and he told it well. Then they saw what happened next, how he dodged every bullet, bit of shrapnel or bomb. It was uncanny. Risks that would have killed a normal person, he survived. He started collecting medals, getting promotions. Soon he was in command of the company, and those few listeners stuck to him like glue, certain that whatever luck had attached to him would benefit them too, if they were loyal.

If. 

Living can go to your head. A man can be awarded medals, do remarkable deeds, but if there's no moral compass, no center - and in this case whatever was there before soon eroded to nothing - a man can be convinced the world exists to benefit him and him alone. 

After the war the hero went home again, followed by a few true believers. Old soldiers convinced their commander could do no wrong, utterly certain that the same luck which dogged his heels in wartime would follow him devotedly in peace. 

They were the first Players.

Now the former commander has set up a gambling operation in [select big city]. The Players are part of that operation, all sharing the same Ideology. Others drawn into the cult come in because of Money or Ego. Either they want what the cult seems to have (financial success) or they think they have what it takes to be winners (ego).

The commander has set up a household god totem somewhere in the gambling operation. It might be in his offices or somewhere close by, but it can't be outside the gambling house/casino. The body of this household god is trench art, made of old shell casings and bits of bone. Cordite stench clings to it. 

The commander believes he is becoming a vampiric entity and is pondering the utility of blood sacrifice. It's appealing. He has his eye on a couple luscious young things who might do. His reasoning is, it was blood sacrifice that got him this far, but those deaths can only power so much. If there is a way of living forever by consuming the lives of others, well ... 

He thinks he has five lives' worth of immortality juice right now: the five who died before that card game ended. But he doesn't know what five lives' worth is, really. Can it be measured in decades, years? Months? Does that mean he can be killed five times before the end and, if so, how many lives did he use up during the War?

The two recruitment vectors are the signature features of the cult: Money, and Ego. In any encounter with the cult or its supporters, those two factors are always evident. They show off all the trappings of wealth, or they inflate the ego of their victims.

The cult's Power comes from money and all that it will buy. It doesn't have legions of soldiers (though its core membership have military experience) and any expertise (safecrackers, pickpockets, card sharps and so on) are hired help. The experts might be seduced into the cult, but they don't start off as recruits nor are they loyal to the commander.

It has a private Goal and a public one. 

The private goal is to find a way to turn the commander into a vampire. Not all the Players are briefed on this goal; the commander is keeping it close to the chest. Thefts, research, the hiring of occult experts are all geared towards this private goal.

The public goal is to increase the status of the commander and, by extension, the Players. Political and economic power, mostly. If that means aligning with certain groups (eg. the Fascists) then that's what they will do. This power feeds the household totem, which in turn gives its benefits to the Players, increasing their luck, their ability.

The cult's assets include the gambling house/casino, a host of civilian gamblers and other low-level fodder, the Players (the main core of whom are ex-military) and any experts they might hire with the money the casino generates.

Now, the commander. What does he want, what does he fear people will find out about him, what is he prepared to kill for?

The commander wants immortality. Life is sweet: the War taught him that. He wants it all, every last drop. He likes being in charge of a casino, having loyal followers, and the Players are his friends. He would dispose of it all, including the Players, in a heartbeat if it meant he got to live.

He fears that missing card. It's out there, somewhere. Constant appeals to the household totem have not told him where it is. He fears that someone will find out his weakness, uncover that missing card, and put an end to him by finishing the game. He keeps all the other cards locked away in a safe, and if someone were to steal those cards he would become frantic.  

He's prepared to kill for immortality. It doesn't matter who he kills. It could be a baby in the cradle, but if killing that baby would give him even another decade of guaranteed life, he'd slaughter it without a second thought. 

I've deliberately not mentioned locations or settings. Obviously, this would work well in a setting after the Great War, so Trail of Cthulhu, Call, Bookhounds and so on, but it could as easily be made to work in a setting outside Earth - Eversink, say. You'd need to change little. Fireballs rather than shellfire, that kind of thing. Or Paris, rather than London, if you'd rather make this Dreamhounds than Bookhounds. Cairo, and make the commander a seeker into Egyptian promises of immortality, for a Tombhounds take.

It's your Cult.

Vitaï Lampada by Sir Henry Newbolt (read by Tom O'Bedlam)

Enjoy!

Guy Fawkes Day (Bookhounds)

 

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.

With that in mind, a quick Bookhounds seed.

Remember, remember!

The fifth of November,

The Gunpowder treason and plot;

There is no reason

Why the Gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot!

From Wikipedia:

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.

Onlooker

With that in mind:

Gunpowder Treason

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?

Enjoy!

 

The Wolf's Head (Night's Black Agents)

Money Heist trailer Antena 3

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. 

Why Dacians? From Wikipedia: 

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! 

That's it for this week Enjoy! 

Forgotten London - also Crash! Boom! Pow!

 You should have seen the lightning last night.

One of the consequences of that dazzling display is we have no internet so I have no idea when this will see publication.

Let’s keep it brief.

The London Nobody Knows (Geoffrey Fletcher, 1965 Penguin) is a book I picked up at Henry Pourdes, a shop I recommend to anyone who appreciates books. It was made into a documentary with James Mason in the presiding role, as a kind of pre-Attenborough. Except where Attenborough will wax enthusiastic about the hunting rituals of the blue-crested booby, Mason is more interested in the wrecks of old London town.

“There is romance and adventure,” said the Guardian in its review, “but mostly there is malnourishment. London looks like a shithole.”

The more things change.

This is all the more surprising since it’s a 1960s phenomenon, a time Cool Britannia looks back on with fondness. British culture and music seemed to be taking over the world stage. Shop-worn and crumbling parts of it may have been, but this is London at its predominance in the modern world. 

Looking back over its shoulder at its Victoriana, forgetting that the most prevalent bits were slums and cheap structures built for industry and the working class.

This is definitely one for the Bookhounds crowd.

Borrowing from page 61:

The cast-iron lavatories of London (I mean those entirely of cast iron ...) are very decorative. [The Star Yard lavatory] has an intricate pattern of ornament to offset the starkness of this strictly utilitarian structure, providing standing room only. [Presumably because to do anything else would require intricate plumbing and sewage arrangements.] The Royal coat of arms appears in several of the panels; no doubt, the manufacturers had a royal warrant for their other productions – greenhouses, perhaps. Birmingham and the surrounding Black Country was the home of these iron conveniences, and they are all of them more solid than their French counterparts ...

Public lavatories are a worldbuilding finesse that most world builders seem to avoid, probably because the average GM/DM never excretes. They suffer.

The structure Fletcher describes still exists and is Grade II listed, but don’t expect to use it for its intended purpose should you visit. I understand the house next door owns the structure and has turned it to alternate use. God knows how; the thing must stink like a midden in hot weather. 

Interesting that the example Fletcher picks is standing room only. I suggest a reason for that, but another reason might be that, where it is, was at one time the warehouse district. You wouldn’t expect to find many women there. 

I have mentioned Whittington’s Long House before; this is another example of some forgotten urban architect coming up with a solution to a common problem.

Which brings me to:

Poetry Without Motion

There’s a scribbler who hangs round the shop cadging fags and cups of tea. Geoff, his name is. Nobody knows his last name; they just call him The Blot, on account of the ink stains he leaves wherever his fingers wander. Shop staff must keep an eye on him when he’s in, lest he damage the stock.

He’s always trying to publish his poetry, without much luck. It’s foul stuff, turgid and unremarkable. He ekes out a living with the Radical crowd, writing up their screeds. He’s not a bad editor, just a lousy creator.

Except for this last month, when he started coming out with the most intriguing poetry. Ethereal. Otherworldly. Gothic. Haunting. Not quite world-beating, but interesting enough that one of the smaller presses is giving him a chance. His book’s out next month. The Blot is over the moon.

The shop staff want to know where he got his inspiration, but the Blot isn’t talking. 

However, the Blot is spending rather a lot of time at a public lavatory not far from the shop ...

Option One: The Ghosts of London. Thanks to generations of public use, this little corner of London has become a Fane, of sorts. An overlooked source of Magick, an accidental creation. The Blot has tuned in to this frequency and that’s where his inspiration is coming from, but it’s only a matter of time before more unscrupulous users of Magick realize what’s going on and muscle in on The Blot’s turf.

Option Two: Otherworldly Frequencies. Peculiar entities have attached a special device to this cast-iron convenience. It’s operating as a kind of receiver for Yithian agents, who have a cell nearby. They weren’t expecting some rando to tune into their broadcasts. If they find out the Blot is listening in they shall not be happy. Of course, they’re bound to find out when the Blot’s poetry gets published ...

Option Three: The Unnamed Poet. The Blot isn’t the only frustrated poet in London. He has a co-author, a Ghoul. This public convenience is their meeting spot, one where neither author has to see the other. They collaborate in secret. The Blot is the editorial mastermind, the Ghoul the creative brain. Together, they could become an unstoppable poetic force. Though the Ghoul is beginning to wonder if he really needs the Blot. Surely, the Ghoul reasons, I could just ... consume him, become him, absorb his editorial skills and make my own success. The Ghoul isn’t wrong, but this kind of reasoning spells trouble for the Blot.

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!