Secret Room - The Contractor (RPG All)

This week's post is loosely based on the recent case of Timothy and Tracy Ferriter, who allegedly had a secure room built to 'house' their adoptive son.

A contractor tipped the police to the existence of the room. He'd been asked to build a small, lockable room in the Ferriters' garage, 8 by 8 ft, with no way to open the only access door from the inside. It had electricity, a window air conditioning unit and a camera in the ceiling, and the Ferriters insisted it be built within two days. The whole thing felt off, so as soon as the contractor finished the job he told the cops, who discovered that the Ferriters were using it to keep their son in secure lockdown when he wasn't at school. 

The case is ongoing.

Secret or secure rooms are fairly common in fiction. There was a time when you couldn't write a cozy cottage murder mystery set in England without at least one 'priest's hole,' and the trope is very common in cobwebbed ghost stories too.

Harvington Hall

Secret rooms turn up now and again in pulp crime novels, particularly those that have some connection with Prohibition, when there were very good reasons for hiding the booze store, or making sure that your tunnel to the outside world wasn't easily spotted by curious onlookers. Some, like the cellar of the 21 Club in New York, still exist.

PIX11 News

The principle is sound enough. You need somewhere secure, concealed and relatively easy to access. To do this, you take a portion of the existing structure and wall it off from the rest of the unit. You want to make sure that the space isn't so large that it's easy to spot by cursory inspection, but it can't be so small as to be useless. The priest's holes were built to accommodate one person, perhaps two, and then only for a few hours. The 21 Club's cellar wasn't meant to be secure housing for anyone; it just had to be big enough to store a restaurant's worth of booze, and convenient enough that the waiters didn't have to schlep all over the block to get another bottle. 

However this example introduces a new element - the contractor. Someone has to build that room, after all, and construction is a fairly specialist job. Particularly if you want that secret room to have electricity, or plumbing, and especially if you want it to be undetectable. The man who built the 21 Club's cellar was an expert in his field, and he had to be. The whole point was to make an actual brick wall, with all the weight that implies, slide shut noiselessly, with minimal effort, and without leaving any tell-tale scuff marks. This is not a simple feat of engineering. This wants effort, and skill.

You know who else has a particular set of skills? Player characters.

Let's talk gamification, and for once in a way let's talk Fantasy. I'm not going to specify setting, except to say that it could as easily be Ravenloft as Swords of the Serpentine.

Command Performance

The group is hired by a suitably mysterious client, who calls themself Lord Bardwell, owner of Bardwell Hall. Lord Bardwell wants the adventurers to build a secret room at the Hall, to these specifications:

• It must be south-facing.
• It must have a window or some kind of view port that allows Lord Bardwell to see a particular constellation, at certain months of the year.
• It must be undetectable by ordinary means.
• The people currently living at the Hall - Lord Bardwell's family and servants - can't know the room is being built.

That last part's the kicker. The group might have all manner of architectural or magical talents that will help them build that room. How can they do it without being spotted by the people living there?

Complicating factors:

1. 'Lord Bardwell' isn't really Lord Bardwell at all. Their actual employer, who prefers to remain incognito and is working through magical disguises or some kind of third party, is the second eldest child of the current Lord Bardwell, the scholarly one who has esoteric and peculiar tastes. Hence the need to look at a particular constellation. Best not to ask what their obsession is really all about. Or why they need to be so secretive.
2. There are several possible locations for the south-facing room, but the best one is in the old Tower, sometimes called the Green Tower after the green cupola at its top. It's one of the oldest sections of the Hall, and houses a forgotten cellar as well as a seldom-used guest bedroom. The reason why few people go there is because it's supposed to be haunted ...
3. Lord Bardwell - the real one - spends most of his time in his bedroom, as he's a complete invalid. An ever-changing procession of doctors and other parasites visit every month, each with their own cure. This means new faces come and go regularly, which can be a blessing or a curse depending on how clever, and how much of an interfering busybody, the latest batch of doctors are. To get access to the Hall the player characters can disguise themselves as quacks - probably not much of a stretch for them.
4. Lord Bardwell's spouse, the beautiful (and licentious) Baroness, spends most of her time in sunnier climes, working her way through the servants and hotel staff. However, Lord Bardwell unexpectedly cuts her off at the wallet, forcing her sudden return to Bardwell Hall complete with a menagerie of card sharps, eccentric swordsmen and other lackies who are hoping for a sniff of the Bardwell loot.   

That's it for this week. Enjoy!

Espionage FUBAR (GUMSHOE, Night's Black Agents).

This week's post is inspired by recent events in Florida, at the President's member's club Mar-a-Lago.

You've almost certainly seen the reports by now, but a brief recap: a Chinese national was caught by Secret Service agents on Sat 30th March, as she attempted to infiltrate the club with two passports, four cell phones, malware on a data stick, and a laptop with an external hard drive. It's not clear why she was there. The theory being passed around in the papers is that she wanted to infiltrate an event organized by a "spa owner" (alleged whorehouse madam and human trafficker) which was to take place that evening.

It seems remarkably amateurish, especially for China. Given that Mar-a-Lago probably isn't the most secure installation in the world, I'd have thought it'd be much, much easier to suborn a senior staff member at the resort, and keep them on permanent payroll for moments like this. Or even get one of China's people hired as full-time staff. Heck, if all you want to do is put malware on the system, given that Mar-a-Lago's cyber security is probably even shakier than its front door policy, sneaking malware in via someone's Facebook page seems the better bet. Frankly, it sounds more like something North Korea would indulge in, given its penchant for wacky schemes and ambitious hacking.

Gamification coming right up.

Compromised

The Night's Black Agents hear, via Network - so before the media gets it, but only just - that a security breach at a Conspiracy-friendly government locale was foiled by alert security, and that the person responsible was captured, along with a quantity of suspicious items. Director's choice as to what, exactly, was on the agent when they were captured, but suggested kit includes assassination tools (particularly those known to work on vampires), data sticks chock-full of malware, mini cameras and similar surveillance tools. There's enough information for the agents, particularly anyone with Vampirology, to realize that, whoever it was, they knew enough about vampires to take effective countermeasures against them.

The precise location is going to depend on your campaign, but suggested locales are the House of Parliament in London, a high-profile event venue like the British Museum, the Berlaymont Building in Brussels, the Federal Chancellery in Berlin, or the Victoria Palace in Romania.

This raises two red flags for the agents. First: does this mean there's a Node of the Conspiracy operating at that location? Second: who is this luckless infiltrator, and what do they know about the Conspiracy?

To answer that question, the agents are going to have to rescue the infiltrator, or at least take possession of any notes taken from the infiltrator's interrogation. Both will involve sneaking into a National-level installation at the very least, with all the chicanery that implies. However there's a potential big reward on offer, because apart from anything else, whoever sent that infiltrator in will want them back. That means the agents could earn themselves Excessive Funds, or at least one big, fat, favor from a Vampire program like China's Room 452. The agents will need to move very quickly to pull this off, since it's only a matter of time before the infiltrator is put somewhere even the agents can't break into.

For a Dracula Dossier variant, the agent is from Edom, and might even be a Prince. Pearl is the obvious choice, but Tyler and Elvis are strong contenders. If this happened, then Edom will be very eager to get them back. However it raises a third red flag: was the Prince betrayed by a mole within Edom, or is this an elaborate attempt to defect?

Enjoy!

Ripped from the Headlines - Zombies & [Ultra]Sonic Zap (RPG All)

A few more snippets from the big wide world!

Well here's a shocker. Last week I talked about zombie game design and this week Floridians were devoured in their hundreds in a zombie attack.

Lake Worth, Florida was the scene of gruesome zombie carnage on the 20th May, when an emergency alert revealed the shocking truth that Lake Worth's authorities were determined to conceal: living dead cannibals were on the rampage after a power outage early Sunday morning.

Presumably released from some necrotic science holding pen as a result of the power outage, these creatures flooded through Lake Worth in an unstoppable tide. According to the emergency notification, 7,380 customers had been affected by the 27 minute long power outage but "far less" had survived the subsequent zombie outbreak.

Ben Kerr, Lake Worth's public information officer, said "We are looking into reports that the [push notification] system mentioned zombies. I want to reiterate that Lake Worth has no zombie activity currently and apologize for the system message."

A likely story.

You may recall last year's story about an alleged sonic attack on US embassy employees in Cuba. Well, times change, and sonic attacks change with them. Now the latest intel points to China as the next place Evil Sonics Do Naughty Things To US Embassy Employees. A consulate employee in Guanzhou allegedly suffered brain injuries after encountering some form of sonic emanation.

"The [State] department is taking this very seriously," says Jinnie Lee, a US embassy spokeswoman. "The Chinese government is also investigating and taking appropriate measures."

Guangzhou, also known as Canton, is a Chinese port on the Pearl River, and has long been a foreign trade powerhouse, the gateway to China. You probably know it without knowing it - if you've ever eaten Cantonese, admired Canton porcelain, or drank a bottle of Zhujiang, you've enjoyed one of Guangzhou's exports. That said, Guangzhou isn't famous for sonic death rays - at least not yet.

Frankly, my money's on goldbricking embassy employees with an attack of the vapors, but you never know your luck. By now every embassy employee must know the 'symptoms' experienced by the folks in Cuba. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to complain about headaches and ask to be shipped home, or at least to a more congenial deployment, if you happen not to like where you are.

Speaking of China, here's another sonic story from the land of Kubla Khan. Chinese researchers have discovered a vulnerability in Siri and Alexa's programming. Voice activated devices can be activated and commanded at ultrasonic frequencies inaudible to humans.

The sky would seem to be the limit. Phones and tablets can be commanded to open a communication link with other devices. Car navigation software can be rerouted. All you'd need is a smartphone and a bit of extra software, and you can do as you like. It's called DolphinAttack, and it looks pretty alarming.

 
What's more, at the moment at least it'd be difficult to defend against an attack of this type. "Microphones' components themselves vary in type," says founder of NewDealDesign Gamil Amit, "But most use air pressures that cannot be blocked from ultrasound."

It's been suggested that the reason why the designers left this vulnerability in is to help the machines understand human speech. The more restrictions are placed on the system, the more likely it is to make mistakes. However it could also be intentional, to help these devices communicate with other devices without the annoying tweeps and burbs of yesteryear. This helps phones control other gadgets in the home or office, allowing for that semi-magical feeling of control. Of course, it's less magical if everyone's a wizard, Harry ...

Of course, as has been suggested by poster Johan over on the Dracula Dossier FB page, vampires can also communicate at ultrasonic frequencies. This could allow them to control electronic devices quietly and seamlessly. What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander; the agents and their human adversaries could also use this hack. I imagine it would be particularly effective at high-end locations, hotels and casinos. After all, in Macau when you arrive they give you a complimentary cell phone which  comes pre-loaded with maps, guides, discounts and offers. Imagine what else it could be pre-loaded with …

Remember, the weakest point in this whole arrangement is the internet of things. If you can break one door down, all the other doors are vulnerable to you.

Enjoy!

Disney, Esoterror, and You: The Haunted Mansion (Esoterrorists)

I've been thinking about this ever since seeing some very evocative photographs over on the Long-Forgotten blog. The blog's creator is a long-time fan of the Haunted Mansion, and was lucky enough to be one of the first kids to ride it when it opened back in 1969. There aren't many people I envy, but I admit I'd have loved to have been on that ride. Imagine seeing it for the first time, so fresh you could smell the paint; or more likely, the brimstone!

For those of you who haven't been lucky enough to visit the original attraction, the Haunted Mansion (First Edition) is part of the California park. The next version opened in 1971 in Florida, and is, broadly speaking, a copy of the original, though longer and more elaborate. Since then there have been other versions of the Mansion opened in Disney's other parks, but they tend to diverge significantly from the California concept. The Hong Kong version, for example, doesn't bother too much with ghosts and spooks, since that doesn't really fit with local lore.  If you're wondering what the ride looks like, take a wander over to YouTube.

As you can probably guess, the Mansion isn't really a Mansion at all; it's one huge elevator, leading down into the bowels of the earth. From there, you go on the ride, and your spooktacular tour begins. It really was a stroke of genius on someone's part, to mount a separate speaker system in each of the Doombuggies. Not only does it mean the Voice is coming from behind the guest, it also means that each guest has their own guided tour, making the experience seem more intimate.

There was a lot of discussion in the planning stages as to what, exactly, the Haunted Mansion was supposed to be. Was it meant to be scary? Funny? Ought it to incorporate existing Disney characters, like the Headless Horseman, or the spooks from Mickey's 1937 short Lonesome Ghosts? Ought it to be a ride, or a walk-through attraction?

Disney himself was adamant that the experience fit his personal vision, and that did not include anything that might detract from the park as he conceived it. His park was Mainstream USA, clean and neat; Disney didn't see a tumbledown shack as part of his grand conceit. That nixed much of the imagineers' first concepts, and meant that the Haunted Mansion as we know it became a rather clean and pleasant looking place, from the outside anyway.

As for the scare-vs-funny divide, the final decision was to split the difference. Rather than have a completely scary or completely funny experience, all the macabre thrills are put up-front, in the first few minutes of the tour. Later, in all scenes after the gypsy Madame Leota summons up the spectral inhabitants, the scenes are skewed towards comic relief. The final word is had by a character called Little Leota, based in part on cemetery arrangement hostesses seen in 1965's The Loved One. 'Hurry back! Hurry back! Be sure to bring your death certificate, if you decide to join us. We're just dying to have you.'

I do wonder what Disney does if someone decides to join the Mansion, perhaps by having their ashes scattered over the ride. Human nature being what it is, someone must have tried by now. If I were Disney, I'd be tempted to offer it as an ultra-private perk only available to special guests, say, members of Club 33. There will be people out there willing to pay over the odds for those bragging rights. 'Come visit me when I'm gone, I'll be in the Graveyard with the Grim Grinning Ghosts!'

The security's pretty tight - some of them even carry firearms, though it's very doubtful you'd ever see them if you visit the park - and for good reason. Millions of people pour through each park each month. With those people come the usual assortment of shoplifters, petty thieves and other ne'er-do-wells but, more to the point, with that massive crowd comes an equally massive crowd management problem. Disney's goal has always been to function like clockwork. Nothing is allowed to go wrong, and if by some chance it does, the problem can't last long. Achieving that kind of smooth functioning demands tight control over everything that happens on the premises.

Disney has its own lore. Yes, among it is the ashes-in-the-Mansion bit. Yes, there's the occasional ghost story. There's also one about someone having a heart attack on the Mansion ride because it was so scary. Now, I very much doubt that anyone was actually frightened to death by the Mansion, but it raises an interesting point. What does happen when someone dies at the park?

Again, life is like that: people die all the time, often on vacation, and the Mansion's been going for nearly fifty years. Odds are pretty fair that, of the thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people who've poured through the LA Mansion day in, day out since 1969, someone's had a life-threatening incident. What happens next? There's probably a clinic in the park somewhere. Is there a morgue?

Walt's ghost is supposed to haunt the LA park, and while technically that myth focuses on his apartment, one of the Mansion myths is that Disney used to live there. This one springs from the Mansion's long build time. It took eight years from initial announcement till opening day in 1969 for the attraction to complete, and rumor had it this was in part because the Mansion wasn't intended as an attraction at all. It was a ruse; Disney wanted somewhere he could live in peace, without being distracted by visitors all the time. Or perhaps Disney's frozen corpse is kept safe in the park, and though that particular legend is tied to the Pirates ride, we know where Disney would really rather be ...

Or here's a good one: whose hearse is that outside the Mansion? It's not Brigham Young's ... could it be someone else's final carriage ride? After all, it was a working hearse at one time, which would make it possibly the only part of the Mansion that's actually come into contact with a dead body at some point in its career.

Now with all that in mind, let's leave reality behind for a moment, and talk about how this can be used in an RPG scenario. While the Esoterrorists are the most obvious bad actors in this story, there's really no reason why this couldn't also be a Fear Itself setting.

Assuming Esoterrorists, then the cell is almost certainly made up of Submissives for the most part, led by either a Dominant or an Attention Seeker. If an Attention Seeker, then one interesting concept would be a rogue Imagineer determined to restore the Mansion to its intended, spooky glory. A Dominant could be a park supervisor, perhaps one who's been working with Disney for many years. Someone who's been there since the Mansion opened in 1969 is probably facing retirement by now, if they haven't already retired; perhaps that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Or the group could as easily have nothing to do with the park; they could be uber-fans of the Mansion, or Disney-obsessed folklorists, conspiracy nuts, what have you.

As for the rumor, what about this:

Every year, at Halloween, if you're lucky, you'll find the Mansion as it was meant to be. Only a few people each year get to visit it, and of those few, only a handful get out alive. Imagineer Ken Anderson had great plans for the Mansion, but Disney nixed 'em; now, each year on Halloween, Anderson gets his revenge ...

The great thing about this scheme is that Anderson's original concept drawings still exist, and are easily found. The internal schematics show it as Anderson originally designed the attraction, as a walk-through exhibit, perhaps with Tiki Magic. We also have excellent exterior elevations by Sam McKim, showing the old, dilapidated New Orleans mansion as it was originally conceived. The Keeper almost doesn't have to do the work at all; the whole thing could be an improv romp, with these drawings as the impetus. Blogger HBG2 really has outdone himself with Long-Forgotten. Kudos!

On that note, let me bring this tour to a close. I hope you enjoyed your visit! Remember to tip your guide. Unpleasant things may happen if you don't ...