The Stork Club (Trail of Cthulhu)

I'm off to NYC this week so there shall be no post next Sunday.

As a nod to the excesses of the Apple I thought I'd talk about the New Yorkiest place of all, at least according to Walter Winchell - the Stork Club.

PBS

Winchell gave the Stork that tagline thanks to a boost from nightclub hostess Texas Guinan, who suggested to the columnist and newsman that her buddy Sherman Billingsley's new joint could do with a boost. This was 1929 and Billingsley, a bootlegger from Oklahoma, had just set up his place on West 58th Street, with financial backing from mysterious sources. It wasn't the Stork's final home; it would move a few times in its career, before finally settling on 3 East 53rd Street.

This last move coincided with the end of Prohibition, which brought about some odd changes for the liquor business. Yes, you could sell alcohol, at table. Not at some smoky, sin-filled bar. Billingsley's solution was to remove his old bar, which had been in the middle of the room, and rebuild it along one wall. He then added lots of tables, each at the same height as the bar. So technically he was serving at table - it was just that the tables were bar height.

This lasted until he had to move to 3 East 53rd, after a police raid. Then Billingsley settled in for the long haul. 

By now he was successful enough he didn't need mysterious financial backers, certainly not backers mysterious enough to attract unwelcome comment. However, he never quite escaped the reputation of being a mobbed-up guy. Partly this was due to his bootlegging background, and partly to his relationships with people like Owney Madden and Frenchy DeMange. For a long time Billingsley had to fight off union incursions backed by Dutch Shultz, until Shultz was shot to death in October 1935.

The Stork was known as a bastion of cafe society, a place for the well-heeled and socially privileged to gather. It helped that the likes of Winchell stuck around the place, along with theatrical star Ethel Merman, Billingsley's girl, who had a waiter stand by her side constantly just to light her cigarettes. According to the guy on the front door Merman wore no underwear, and frequently flashed him in lieu of a cash tip. "I can't put food on the table with that," he complained. 

The Stork was famous for its promotions and iconic chotchkes like its signature ashtrays, its always-on-call photographers, and its balloon nights. On balloon nights a host of balloons would fall from the ceiling each of which contained a prize, often a hundred-dollar bill. The sudden descent of these balloons set off a popping frenzy as guests and staff competed to collect as many prizes as possible. 

The Stork was also famous for sex. Billingsley's relationship with Merman was well-known. Despite being married he and Merman were about as public as it was possible to get. Once, Merman turned up at the Stork glowering, injured, and upset. It turned out she and Billingsley had been enjoying themselves in his car. One of them dropped a lit cigarette and Merman found it by sitting on it, bare-arsed. 

Even without Shultz's intervention Billingsley would have union troubles. He believed in being boss of his empire, and no union, whether straight or crooked, would ever tell him what to do. When he fired a raft of union waiters and they took him to court Billingsley fought tooth and nail, finally taking it to appeals court. The court ruled he had to take the waiters back on staff and pay back wages. He and the waiters reached a quiet compromise; he'd take them on, pay the wages, so long as they didn't squawk when he discreetly fired them again. Billingsley resisted unions till the bitter end; by the time the Stork imploded his union problems cost him his friendship with Winchell. By that point the Stork was losing money hand over fist.

Trail is a 1930s game and as luck would have it the 1930s are the Stork's glory years. Soon the jet age would come and with it would go New York's cafe society, and Billingsley's business model. That, and Billingsley's notorious and ill-fated clash with Josephine Baker in 1956 sealed the Stork Club's fate. 

Borrowing from Night's Black Agents Resource Guide: Locations:

The Stork Club

New York's high-and-mighty mix with the lesser folk, so long as the lesser folk are theatrical, literati, or otherwise famous. It's not unusual to see Broadway stars and Hollywood celebrities mingling with the children of the rich. In some cases literal children; Billingsley lets under-age rich kids play in his playground, so long as they don't drink. You might see almost anyone at the Stork; they say madame Polly Adler came here once and, when she and her escort refused to leave, Billingsley took away all the other tables near them so they sat on their own, completely exposed. Until they slunk away.  Disgraced mayor Jimmy Walker came here after his return from self-imposed European exile and Billingsley threw out the boat for his good friend Walker, only to discover - when the next day's papers made no mention of Walker's return - that the King of New York had been permanently dethroned. 

Extras

Mobsters, rich folk, folk on the make, detectives, theatrical stars, writers, newsmen, photographers - anyone who has an interest in fame and riches. Or who wants to be seen with the famous and wealthy. Or who actually is famous and wealthy. 

Clues

Bargain can get you almost anything from this crowd, but it's even better used on the waiters and staff who can get you special privileges, or a table next to the people you really want to talk to. Flattery is practically currency in a place where the brightest stars and rich kids mingle. Cop Talk works well on unionized staff in bed with mobsters, as well as Sherman himself, who knows very well which side his bread is buttered.  Evidence Collection might notice that peculiar little item so-and-so dropped on the floor. They might be too toasted to notice you took it.  

Rules Effects

Spending a night at the Stork and being seen to do so gives temporary boosts to Credit Rating. Oral History spends at the Stork gives you temporary Intimidation against a well-heeled target of your choice; nobody wants those stories spread. Being there on Balloon Night can earn you unusual allies or enemies, depending on how successful you were collecting prizes. You need to be careful who you go about with or you might catch something nasty - just ask Tallulah Bankhead, a Broadway star and Stork habitue famous for her varied sex life.  

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Where Do We Go From Here? GUMSHOE Open World

 

Alan Parson Project

I always did have a soft spot for Alan Parsons.

GUMSHOE has a habit of producing large open-world style games where you can wander around, like free-range bunnies waiting for Lennie to come home. Dracula Dossier is probably the best example. Armitage Files another. While GUMSHOE isn't the only system that does this, I thought it might be useful to deconstruct the style, and I say this because games like these can be very intimidating for the novice Director.

This is what I said last time:

It's not that it isn't great. It so very much is, but there's so much going on here that, if you haven't got a few years under your belt, you may find it intimidating. Its improvisational nature means that it lacks the structure a new Director may need to get going.

Let me compare it, for a moment, to Horror on the Orient Express, and say why I'd recommend the latest edition of Horror to new Keepers.

Horror is huge. There's tons of things to do, a mountain of stuff to read, and at first glance it seems intimidating. However it has solid internal structure; the Keeper always knows where the campaign is, in the narrative, and can easily determine what's going to happen next. The latest edition in particular is very newbie-friendly, and while there's a lot to absorb, it's not impossible to digest. It would definitely be a challenge for a new Keeper, but it would be a challenge that could be overcome.

I'm not sure the same could be said for the Dossier. Its improvisational nature - which I endorse and enjoy very much - and the metric ton of stuff in it, means that it's very easy to get lost in its labyrinthine innards. For a Director who's had a few years of gaming, this will not be a problem. However as someone who indulges in improv theater from time to time, I can tell you that confidence is key. As an actor, even if you're playing a weak character, you need to be utterly confident in yourself and your ability to play a weak character. That's the only way to convince, and entertain, your audience.

So let's talk about the Armitage Files.

Mystery takes on written form when pages from a disturbing manuscript fall into the investigators’ hands. Can your mind correlate the awful beauty of 10 stunningly distressed handouts realized by acclaimed illustrator Sarah Wroot?

The central concept is simple and strong. Odd pages from a previous investigation - if it is a previous investigation - fall into the characters' hands by way of Dr. Armitage, Miskatonic U, sis boom ba, Bugs Bunny Bugs Bunny rah rah rah. What do they do about it? Where do they go? It's entirely up to them. 

Mechanically speaking, this is the shorter version of something like City of Mist, where the entire city is created by the players on the fly. In Armitage Files the players create what amount to Nodes, places where they go to do stuff. What that stuff is and what they do there is up to them. 

Which is right about the spot where novice Directors tear their hair out. Some prepwork is needed, surely? How do you react to something that might or might not happen? Is this Shrodinger's RPG?

Some prepwork is needed, yes. But not the work you might think.

First, know where you are going.

In the Armitage Files there are several possible options given in the supplement and there are as many other options as you can think of. Probably more than you can ever dream up. 

 

Which is part of the reason why this list exists but it's not the only reason.

Yes, these are all places that the investigators might end up. There's enough information in the text to help you improv an entire scene or two on the fly. But is that what I meant when I said know where you are going?

No. 

What I meant was, know what the end goal is. Know who the Great And Powerful Oz is. That way, as the investigators creep closer and closer to the curtain that they've been warned not to pull, you already know the kind of thing they'll find behind that curtain.

That way every scene you use, every important turning point, leads to that end goal. The Sleazy Nightclub is a waypoint on that journey as is the Sanatorium, the Farm, the Curio Shop. That means they all have to have markers that clearly indicate what they are, and where they might lead.

In the Armitage Files a disparate group of Mythos forces are all stumbling about trying to do A Thing, and the investigators don't know what that thing is. Fine. But you do know what that thing is. 

So, every chance you get, hammer that home. The cultist, the innocent victim, the peculiar item - all those roads lead to one Rome. Make sure that is forefront in everyone's mind.

Second, the enemy has a plan and the means by which to make it happen. 

Dracula Dossier does this very well. The Conspiracy is always up to something. Whether Satanists are working to destroy the Sacred Covenant or Mutants are trying to engineer a nuclear Armageddon so they can pen the remnants of humanity in breeding and feeding pens, they all have a plan. They work towards that plan.

So too do the OPFOR in your campaign. 

This means two things.

First, it means the enemy is always gathering material, putting schemes into motion, launching initiatives. It is always active. 

Second, it means that if they are not interrupted then they will do something. What that something is, and whether it works, can be very interesting. 

Let's take a step back and look at one of the elements of the Files.  

The Carnival.

Children cry out their delight as they charge down the main muddy drag of a traveling carnival. Astride the horses and mythical creatures of a churning merry-go-round, they giggle gleefully ...

Now, let's say that within this Carnival there is a Mythos sect trying to do something. It doesn't matter what that is. It takes time, needs materials, and has a desired end result. That's what counts.

You, as Director, have already decided what that sect is and what it wants to achieve. Fine. However, there are other leads. Other places. The investigators may be tempted.

What if the players don't go to the Carnival right away?

Well, you have two options. One is that the enemy doesn't put its plans into motion until they get there, for whatever reason. The stars weren't right before. They are now.

The other option is to set up a calendar. In January the plot starts. By March it's well under way. In June the big event happens. July/August are fallout times and by the time September and later rolls around the background radiation is ticking away but whatever it was that the sect intended to have happened has happened. The investigators might find the remains and the victims, or the damned, but they didn't get there in time to stop the plot.

Andromeda Strain

There can be a lot of entertainment exploring a town of the dead.

Does this mean the sect always wins? God, no. Experiments fail all the time. When your average deranged necromancer starts fooling around with peculiar substances and occult texts, the result of a failed experiment can be spectacular. And interesting, from a plot POV.

Third, always have a backup plan.

Let's say that you thought the players picked up on Clues X & Y last session and were planning a visit to Kingsport to visit the Yacht Club. Except they didn't. They decide instead to head off to Boston to deal with the Marcuzzos. 

What do you do?

Engage one of your failsafe scenes. It's always useful to have a few moments set aside for times like these, a sleazy nightclub or two, a peculiar curio shop, anything that might grab the investigators' attention for a while. That at least gives you time to work out how your failsafe scene is linked to the Marcuzzos. 

Let's say that the investigators went to that curio shop because they think it's a Marcuzzo front. Fine. It can be a Marcuzzo front. You didn't write it that way; needs must when the devil drives. But it can also have Clues X & Y in there, leading back to the Yacht Club. Now the investigators have two possible ways to go. They can follow up on the Marcuzzo connection, using clues found at the Curio Shop that allow them to do so. Or they can take the lead that brings them back to the Yacht Club. What connection does the Yacht Club have to the Marcuzzos? Time to find out!

Ideally, you'll have at least three or four moments like these which you can sneak into any session, regardless of location. That sleazy nightclub can as easily be in Ohio as Boston. Then, once you've used that backup plan, don't forget that you'll need a new one for the next time the players go off the rails.

Fourth, and finally, always reward, never punish.

This is yes, and.

Not that you want to make it easy for those pesky players, mind you. But if they do go off the rails, that isn't a moment for you to lash out. That's a moment for you to shower them with new clues. Letters that lead to that Ohio social organization, or flyers from the Carnival in New York State. If you want to have a couple mooks walk in the door with guns as well, why not? A little gunshot wound never hurt anyone. But never have the mooks as the be all and end all. The mooks are just the chocolate sprinkles on the whipped cream that is the clue bonanza. 

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Things To Steal From D&D (GUMSHOE)

Honor Among Thieves trailer

D&D was my first system but it's not my favorite for a number of reasons, probably the biggest of which is that no matter the iteration the system still drags around the carcass of its first incarnation - the skirmish combat wargame. Everything goes back to that 10x10 room with an Orc and a chest. Or an Orc with a chest. In a chest. Juggling two chests and a gnome. However you care to word it.

Its more recent incarnation as 5.0 has a lot to recommend it (and I'm glad it brought back Ravenloft) but it occurred to me that there are two things a GUMSHOE game could steal from D&D:

• Background
• Treasure

Backgrounds are detailed in the PHB and can be summed up as Personality, Ideals, Bonds, Flaws. Treasure is detailed in the DMG and in particular the Other Rewards section from p.227 on.

I'm not suggesting the players use Backgrounds, though they can. You as Director have more use for them, and you also have more use for Treasure.

As Director you often have to come up with NPCs more or less on the fly, which is why Cameos (p92, Double Tap) are so useful. Still, it's nice to have some NPCs in your pocket for those moments when, say, having a Nemesis walk into the room with a gun fits the narrative, or at least gets the action flowing. Each Cameo has an In Play section which does sketch out a thin personality but it is useful, for those NPCs who might have more plot function, to have something more than the In Play. 

This is where the Background section comes in handy. A Nemesis who's a former cop is going to be different from one who's a former special forces vet, and so on. How to make them feel different, though, is where the Background shines.

When I first read that section it reminded me of the Tarot, specifically the Celtic spread, which in its most basic form can be read as:

1. The Present
2. The Challenge/Problem
3. The Past 
4. The Future 

It's not an exact match but it performs the same function. It tells you where you are, where you have been, where you are going, and where you might end up. Backgrounds does this with a series of "I" statements, as in "I have been an acolyte, I idolize a particular hero or saint, I believe in tradition, I seek to preserve an ancient text, I am suspicious of strangers."

In Night's Black Agents much is said about Bad Guys (Resource Guide, p23 on) but it's mostly mechanical. Trail doesn't really cover this at all, except to say that to change up the OPFOR you can change up their appearance or stats, so a Deep One, say, might have a hammerhead as opposed to an ordinary fish head. 

Suppose instead you tackle it this way:

Connor Rowe is a Deep One hybrid proselytizer who has left his coastal area to spread the word. He:

1. Is an acolyte of Cthulhu who believes in the critical mass theory (p 91, ToC)
2. Believes he is a predestined agent of change.
3. Thinks his mission is to spread the seed of Cthulhu wherever he goes so that more join the critical mass.
4. Is prone to obsessive behavior and will not change his plans once they are set.

You don't have to change the stats to make this work. You're changing the personality instead. 

Here you have a roaming preacher who moves from place to place spreading the word. This week he might be in a flophouse in San Francisco. Next week, Chicago. Wherever he goes he spreads the word, starts cults, so that flophouse in Chicago might become an epicenter of Cthulhu worship spreading the word, increasing the critical mass. It might just be preaching, or he may have other means - narcotics, shared dreams, amulets and crystals, whatever best fits. Given that Deep Ones live long lives, as a hybrid he might last longer than the usual human lifespan permits, meaning he could first be encountered as a young firebrand in 1890s San Francisco and still be around as an aged grand master in the 1960s.

The players might not even encounter Connor, at first. They can encounter the cults he leaves behind him instead. That only builds up his reputation, so that when they finally encounter Connor himself the players have an expectation, even a dread, of what this preacher might do.

That's Backgrounds. What about Treasure?

The DMG has this to say:  As much as adventurers desire treasure, they often appreciate other forms of reward. 

Why? Because in D&D, treasure usually boils down to X number of gold pieces plus a scattering of magic items. Rarely is it something interesting, or memorable.

What if it were?

Let's say this is Bookhounds of London. The obvious reward for player success in that game is a mythos grimoire, or possibly even a Windfall for the shop. It's what the central concept is about, after all. 

But let's take a step back. Those are the gold pieces of the campaign. What other rewards can there be?

D&D explains it in terms of 

• supernatural gifts (a special reward granted by a being or force of great magical power).
• prestige (fame & power, medals, favors).
• epic boons (special gifts given to high-level characters).

Let's say this is a Lovejoy or John Constantine situation, two archetypes that work very well in a Bookhounds universe. Lovejoy is a near-supernaturally gifted antiques dealer. Constantine is an occultist who gathers favors; in his original incarnation he acts as a kind of middleman to the heroes and villains of the DC universe, and everyone owes him for one reason or other. His best mate, Chas Chandler, becomes his go-to taxi driver for exactly this reason: Chas owes John big time.

In a Bookhounds world, what kind of supernatural gifts are there?

Straight-up Magic, of course, and Mythos pools, but there are other options. For the cost of 1 point Stability:

• Healing Hands: once per session you have the ability to heal as if you had 2 pool First Aid, by the power of touch alone.
• The Lovejoy Touch: you can tell the difference between a genuine Mythos artefact and a fake, and if you don't know where in the room the Mythos artefact is, you can find it by this sense alone.
• Bane: you create an artefact from whatever happens to be lying around that, for one combat scene only, can prevent a Mythos combatant from attacking you for 2 rounds.
• Ghost Talker: you can communicate with the recently deceased, once per session.
• Card Shark: you can win the equivalent of 2 points Credit Rating, once per session only. Any Credit Rating not spent by the end of the session is lost. Easy come, easy go.

How did they get these abilities? That's up to you as Keeper, but they probably had to sweat blood for them.

Prestige is a bit different and usually translates into better opportunities and increased Auction pools. Because your character is an influential person the auctioneer will let them look at the merchandise in a private session before the auction. Because your character is a member of the local Ring they get 2 points Intimidation free, to use during this auction only. That sort of thing. Again, it's up to you as Keeper how they got that prestige, but it probably involves a Windfall of some kind, or a very successful adventure.

Epic boons are a little out-of-scope and may not fit your playstyle, particularly if you go Purist. However, it could be very interesting to have a Mythos entity take an interest in your Bookhound. Let's say, for the sake of discussion, that a group of Ghouls take a liking to one of the Bookhounds. They may even consider the Hound for membership of their little supper club. As a token of their affection they give the Hound a silver ring. That ring has no power in and of itself, but all the other cults currently active in London know what that ring stands for and who gave it to the Hound. It's a kind of bargaining chip for future negotiations: I can't hurt you, but you know who my friends are ...  

Alternatively, let's say a Hound has a nasty experience with a Cthulhu cult, and as a consequence gains heightened Dreaming powers. Not only can they lucidly dream, they gain the ability to invade other people's dreams and interact with them. That may seem great, but there's a problem. Every person whose dream they invade loses 1 Sanity because the Hound isn't just invading their dream, they're spreading the critical mass of Cthulhu believers needed to make the Old One return. That is cumulative Sanity damage; it's possible to drive an ordinary person permanently insane. Which some Hounds might embrace as a tactic against their enemies ... 

That's it for this week. Enjoy!