The Three Impostors (Machen)

The three passed out, leaving the hall door, cracked and riven with frost and wet, half open, and they stood silent for a moment under the ruinous shelter of the porch.

"Well," said the girl, "it is done at last. I shall hurry no more on the track of the young man with spectacles."

"We owe a great deal to you," said Mr. Davies politely; "the doctor said so before he left. But have we not all three some farewells to make? I, for my part, propose to say good-by, here, before this picturesque but mouldy residence …

I mentioned Arthur Machen last week and time has come to tell the tale.

Machen’s Three Impostors – which you can get on Gutenberg if you like free stuff – is something I’d recommend to any lover of the grotesque and Gothic, but I particularly recommend it to GUMSHOE directors and players for this reason: it is an episodic sandbox campaign in literary form.

If you read any synopsis, you might be forgiven for thinking this novel has a plot. It does not. What it has is a central premise: a group of casual acquaintances, thrust together by circumstance, are involved in a series of peculiar adventures. The McGuffin is a gold coin allegedly minted by the Emperor Tiberius which is worth several fortunes, but in practice it’s all about that mysterious young man with the spectacles. This unnamed gent is the central figure around whom all plot revolves. He is the villain, the scoundrel, the bandit, the occult mastermind. Or perhaps he’s just a mysterious figure. 

The gold Tiberius gets a fairly detailed description, in the style of the Maltese Falcon. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Hammett had this in mind when he was writing the Falcon. It goes like this:

It is one of the comparatively few historical objects in existence; it is all storied like those jewels we have read of. A whole cycle of legend has gathered round the thing; the tale goes that it formed part of an issue struck by Tiberius to commemorate an infamous excess. You see the legend on the reverse: 'Victoria.' It is said that by an extraordinary accident the whole issue was thrown into the melting pot, and that only this one coin escaped. It glints through history and legend, appearing and disappearing, with intervals of a hundred years in time and continents in place. It was discovered by an Italian humanist, and lost and rediscovered. It has not been heard of since 1727, when Sir Joshua Byrde, a Turkey merchant, brought it home from Aleppo, and vanished with it a month after he had shown it to the virtuosi, no man knew or knows where. And here it is!

Everyone’s after this coin and will commit any atrocity to get it. It’s introduced to the narrative when it’s flung aside by some unfortunate who’s fleeing one step ahead of a knife-wielding assassin. The fellow with the spectacles is first in the queue and it’s because he’s after the Tiberius that the three Impostors get dragged into the plot. 

However, that’s not why I want to talk about this novel. I want to talk about it because it does something I don’t think I’ve ever seen a novel do: it starts at the end and goes on from there.

I’m sure you can think of half-a-dozen examples where the narrator (usually unreliable) starts at the end, but that isn’t what’s happening here. This is one where the group, such as it is, starts by saying goodbye on the steps of the peculiar house where they have their last adventure. It’s one of a series of improbable tales – you can tell how improbable by the list of chapter titles – which the book then unfolds, event by event. 

Titles:

Prologue

Adventure of the Gold Tiberius

The Encounter of the Pavement

Novel of the Dark Valley

Adventure of the Missing Brother

Novel of the Black Seal

Incident of the Private Bar

The Decorative Imagination

Novel of the Iron Maid

The Recluse of Bayswater

Novel of the White Powder

Strange Occurrence in Clerkenwell

History of the Young Man with Spectacles

Adventure of the Deserted Residence

It begins at the end by dropping a number of names and situations, most of which make absolutely no sense to the reader because they haven’t read the rest of the novel yet. You don’t know what happened to the man with the spectacles. You have a feeling it can’t be anything good, not in that dank and evil house, but you don’t know. You haven’t the least clue what a gold Tiberius is, never mind what significance it has to the plot, but it must be significant because it’s all anyone wants to talk about.

Finally, two other people enter the scene, after everyone else has departed. They are struck by the singular, sinister appearance of the house. 

I look at that deep glow on the panes, and the house lies all enchanted; that very room, I tell you, is within all blood and fire ...

With that line, the novel begins in earnest, and will end when those two newcomers explore the deserted residence, with its room within all blood and fire. Everything that came before, led to that picturesque (but mouldy) residence and the thing those two newcomers discover inside.

A lot is said by gamers about session zero. About how it sets expectations, house rules, table etiquette. Much is said about consent. All these are useful topics.

But here is a session zero where the players, in advance of any plot, lay out specific guidelines for what is to happen next. They name their adversary. They name their McGuffin. They lay out some basic outlines for the kind of adventures they had (intend to have) and an abbreviated checklist of where they are to happen. Nothing too specific. Nobody says ‘ah, Ms. Lally, what about that time in the flooded cellar with the deadly serpent?’ 

But there’s enough detail there for the Director/Keeper – assuming one is in the wings – to pick up on and run with it. To know that, whatever else may happen, the chief adversary is that sinister young man in spectacles. That the McGuffin is the gold Tiberius. At this point you don’t even know that the Tiberius is a coin. It might be anything, so long as it’s gold. But you know it exists and has plot significance. 

That kind of information is incredibly useful to the Keeper. It can be easily accommodated no matter what the Keeper intends to run. It wouldn’t be at all difficult, say, to run the Horror on the Orient Express with a sinister fellow in spectacles leading the enemy’s charge. Very little would need to change. Nor would it be difficult to insert such a character into the Armitage Files, or the Dracula Dossier. 

It’s basically a blue book in miniature, a brief in-character dialogue whose purpose isn’t to describe what is happening but to tell the Keeper what happened, so they can incorporate that information into future scenarios.

This could be incredibly useful for open world games in particular. Say this was Armitage Files, where you as Keeper know that there are any number of options, but the players have to pick which they like best. With this kind of session zero blue book at the very start, the Keeper already has a reasonable idea where to go, or at least what kind of villain the players will find when they get there. 

That could be vital. 

So next time you’re planning something sinister, give some thought to this idea: start at the end. Let the players narrate themselves the kind of ending they want to get to.

Then spend the next however many sessions finding out how they get there.

That’s it for this week. Enjoy!

From Zero to Hero (Many Mansions)

Cthulhu is an infra-dimensional entity that has only a conceptual existence within the human “R-complex,” the brain stem and limbic system left over from our primordial reptilian ancestors. This is why he appears only in dreams, high-stress encounters (such as shipwrecks), and artistic impulses. He is attempting to create a critical mass of believers so that he may “emerge from R’lyeh” and open the eyes of all ... [p91, Trail of Cthulhu]

In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. John 14:2, KJB

Session zero, in any RPG ruleset, is about setting expectations. You need to be clear about what you hope to accomplish, and you want to encourage the players to be open about what they hope to achieve. Even in a mystery-solving setting like GUMSHOE, it helps to be as open as possible about the campaign and setting.

How open, I hear you ask?

Well, using Many Mansions as a guide and bearing in mind what's been said so far:

You need to tell the players about the world and its main features. That means you need to be up-front that this is Purist, set in Kingsport, with Cthulhu as the main Mythos threat. You can even quote that bit about Cthulhu being an infra-dimensional entity; it helps define expectations. You probably also want to talk about Mislow's Antiques, the Downtown Library and other important locations within your version of Kingsport. 

This will give the players some idea of what to expect, and where they might go when looking for clues. It also allows you to drop reminders about those locations if it seems, during play, that the investigators may have forgotten about Tredwell and his peculiar knowledge base. Those reminders can be useful 0-point clues in any session.

More importantly, it whets the appetite. The players know it's all about Cthulhu, and that's fine. You want them to anticipate that awful moment when they're face-to-face with the unspeakable. It also gives the players a clear route forward, which is always useful. Most of the GUMSHOE products explicitly say that the players are responsible for providing some of the thrills; they can't do that if they don't have at least some idea of where they're going.

Most importantly, this avoids player frustration. Yes, this is a mystery game. That does imply a certain amount of, well, mystery. But it doesn't mean the players have to wander around in a fog.

Think of Session Zero the same way you might the opening moments of Columbo. The idea isn't to hide the mystery. The idea is to make the parameters of the main threat plain, so you can watch the investigators slowly make their way towards that threat.

This doesn't mean you have to reveal absolutely everything. Notice I mention Purist, but not Dreamworld. That underlying layer is for you alone. Let the players fumble towards that hideous, Sanity-destroying reveal - in order to 'win' they must destroy themselves, and Kingsport, so the dreamer they inhabit can awake.

Session Zero is also the moment for you and the players to talk about their characters, and the group. How did they meet? Why do they stay together? What triumphs have they had, what tragedies? Do they have a favorite hangout? Do they want to add something to your base description of, say, Mislows?

This last can be especially useful. You might never have thought that Mislow was connected with the Profaci mob family of New York, but if one of the players likes that idea, add it in. Maybe you planned for Tredwell to be a comedy character, but the players prefer a Terrible Old Man version of Tredwell. When in doubt, go for the option that promises the most fun.

Always remember that this is about fun. Never fall so in love with your plot that you can't face the idea of changing it; no plan survives contact with the players. You might have all sorts of ideas, but if you can't bear someone else playing with the toys then you should write a novel, not an RPG campaign.

As this is about fun you need to think about safety tools, and to discuss any special rules that your campaign might use. 

Safety tools have been discussed so often that I hope I don't need to discuss them here, again; either you see the need, and don't need the speech, or you don't see the need, in which case nothing I say will persuade you. 

I will say that safety tools are as important, and possibly more important, in horror games like Trail than in any other RPG setting. You're going to want to know if body horror, say, is a complete no-go. You're going to need to know if player X likes the idea of romance (tragic, doomed, but, y'know, romance) or if player Y is going through tough times and doesn't need your commentary about [whatever it may be] adding to their troubles. Again, this is all about having fun at the table, even if that fun is eldritch and coated with a thin layer of grue. No fun = no table.

Special rules, particularly in Trail, is an important conversation. Trail and games like it dwell as much on mental corruption as physical hurt. If this were D&D the players would ultimately only have to worry about how many hit points they can afford to lose. With Trail you can be as healthy as a horse, and still get pounded. If the players aren't familiar with that concept now's the time to set them straight. It's also a good time to talk about their Sources of Stability as well as anything unique to their character that might affect the narrative.

The last thing to discuss in any Session Zero is the opening session of the campaign. The very first session is like troubleshooting a new product; you take it out on the road and see how it handles. Then you fix the things that broke. This is helpful for the obvious reasons, and also because, if you haven't played with some or all of these people before, you need to know what they're like. Anyone can say they're thus-and-so before the session. Only by playing with them will you find out what they're really all about. 

The first game should be something light, influenced if not driven by the players' ideas or requests. Perhaps it introduces the characters to a major asset - say, their first visit to Mislows, or maybe Tredwell has some ideas for the characters to chase up. The opposition should be interesting but not so challenging that the investigators end up in the hospital, or, worse, the morgue. So, a ghoul, say, but not a pack of ghouls. A ghost, but not a whole haunted house stuffed full of ghosts. Open with action, sure - but they almost never open a James Bond film by killing James Bond. Except that one time. And the other time. It doesn't happen often. 

Now! Time rushes on, the scene is set, you've done all you can do ... now it's time to DESTROY SOME SANITY!!!!

That's it! Enjoy. Next week, something completely different ...