Haven't gone quiet, I promise. Just been job hunting and procrastinating like a boss.
Recently, I've come to realize the power of images. In a small conversation with one of my usual players, he mentioned how much easier it would be if he had an image to look at, instead of just my words to hang off of.
Okay, cool. I can do that.
As much as I slam the tablet market, this is something that one would be useful for. An iPad (or similar) hooked up to a pinterest account, or even a slideshow, would make visualizing people and places easier on the eyes, and more memorable.
Show, don't tell.
The cheap alternative is to just print out pictures, label them, and have a binder full of locations and people. The idea I had earlier- "Talking Heads-" could also be integrated into this.
In fact, there is a printer where I live. I'm going to have to start looking into this...
July 30, 2013
July 13, 2013
My take on Zombies
I have something of a varied history with zombies.
On the surface, it's an over-used cliche monster that lets us rationalize killing people. Zombies are intended to portray humans in an honest, sincere way that lets us kill them without feeling bad. Some of the most popular metaphors include consumerism, popular culture, and technological addiction.
But, there's a story that goes back even further than that. The Wikipedia entry (chill out, this isn't an academic or scholarly resource) says that a Bokor (A practitioner of Vodou, local to west Africa and Haiti) brings a body up out of a grave, and then it serves him. So, effectively, a robot. No consciousness, no intelligence, just decaying muscle. Of course there's variants of this, but this one is by far the most popular.
I heard a mis-translation once that I really liked. In it, a person was subdued with very heavy sedatives, then put in a casket. When they awoke, they'd open it up (the coffin was built deliberately easy), then find a man conveniently in the graveyard. He tells the victim (still up on drugs) that they are dead, and a walking anomaly. So, the person believes they are a zombie, and continue to do zombie-like things, usually minus the eating-brains part.
Obviously, not accurate, and there's a lot of holes in it. But it's still rather fetching. I like the idea of a normally non-violent zombie, just like we have normally non-violent humans. My theory goes as follows:
For whatever reason, a person re-animates. It could be magic (traditional explanation), it could be a brain virus (Max Brooks style), it could be radiation (the Ghouls from Fallout), but for whatever reason, someone comes to.
Bodies are in varying states of decay. Some brains will be more intact than others, and the same goes for musculature and other tissue. So, some zombies will be "fresher" than others.
At the top of the food chain we have ones that are indistinguishable from humans- complete cognitive functionality, the same body they died in, etc. These are the ones who were bitten (or however else the virus is transferred), but not eaten. They ran around, scared and confused, and reanimated without losing a heartbeat. By far the best off.
Near the middle is the classical zombie. Their brains and bodies have deteriorated from time, bad burial conditions, or they were partially eaten during the transfer. Either way, they have limited cognitive capacity, and diminished physique. These are the shamblers, groaning out "brains..." as they skulk around city streets and metro tunnels.
At the bottom of the food chain are the weakest. We could even call them crawlers. Only enough mental capacity to warrant mobility and food scrounging (mostly rotten meat in processing plants and grocery stores. Can't get anything that moves unless it's a very good day), and enough stamina to move from one place to another. Truly pitiful, they're usually plucked up and cannibalized by meaner, more capable predators.
To me, this makes the most sense, and is the most fun to play with. So, with the basics down, there's a few other things I've theorized:
-Mutations
Everyone loves mutant zombies. To mutate, all you need to do is augment your DNA, then tell your cells to go crazy. And, you'll need to eat a lot to be able to grow. Jagged, bony outcroppings will need a lot of chitin (or calcium) to grow effectively. If you want more size, you'll need to eat up.
-The Brains
Classically, zombies want brains. That's just how they roll. I always thought it was to make restoring their own easier.
Viruses reproduce by decimating the host material. In order to sustain the subject matter, there needs to be an intake of edible tissue. In this case, cognitive matter. So, zombies need to eat brains to get smarter, and keep their virus population up to status. Brains are ideal because they're brains. They are 100% what a growing zombie needs. I suppose substitutes would work, but the quantities and portions would have to be sufficient. Is there a substitute for brains? Tofu, maybe?
-Half zombies
A pregnant woman gets bitten. Not... that other thing.
A half-zombie may gain a form of immunity to a parasitic virus, but inherit other traits. This is a gray area, as no one else has really delved into it. The game Sonny best illustrates what I try to get at. He's a zombie, but it's not a big deal.
-Culture
One thing I enjoy pondering is how maximum-freshness zombies fit in with a regular human society, once they stop shooting at each other. It makes for an interesting background, even if Fallout has pretty much answered the question.
On the surface, it's an over-used cliche monster that lets us rationalize killing people. Zombies are intended to portray humans in an honest, sincere way that lets us kill them without feeling bad. Some of the most popular metaphors include consumerism, popular culture, and technological addiction.
But, there's a story that goes back even further than that. The Wikipedia entry (chill out, this isn't an academic or scholarly resource) says that a Bokor (A practitioner of Vodou, local to west Africa and Haiti) brings a body up out of a grave, and then it serves him. So, effectively, a robot. No consciousness, no intelligence, just decaying muscle. Of course there's variants of this, but this one is by far the most popular.
I heard a mis-translation once that I really liked. In it, a person was subdued with very heavy sedatives, then put in a casket. When they awoke, they'd open it up (the coffin was built deliberately easy), then find a man conveniently in the graveyard. He tells the victim (still up on drugs) that they are dead, and a walking anomaly. So, the person believes they are a zombie, and continue to do zombie-like things, usually minus the eating-brains part.
Obviously, not accurate, and there's a lot of holes in it. But it's still rather fetching. I like the idea of a normally non-violent zombie, just like we have normally non-violent humans. My theory goes as follows:
For whatever reason, a person re-animates. It could be magic (traditional explanation), it could be a brain virus (Max Brooks style), it could be radiation (the Ghouls from Fallout), but for whatever reason, someone comes to.
Bodies are in varying states of decay. Some brains will be more intact than others, and the same goes for musculature and other tissue. So, some zombies will be "fresher" than others.
At the top of the food chain we have ones that are indistinguishable from humans- complete cognitive functionality, the same body they died in, etc. These are the ones who were bitten (or however else the virus is transferred), but not eaten. They ran around, scared and confused, and reanimated without losing a heartbeat. By far the best off.
Near the middle is the classical zombie. Their brains and bodies have deteriorated from time, bad burial conditions, or they were partially eaten during the transfer. Either way, they have limited cognitive capacity, and diminished physique. These are the shamblers, groaning out "brains..." as they skulk around city streets and metro tunnels.
At the bottom of the food chain are the weakest. We could even call them crawlers. Only enough mental capacity to warrant mobility and food scrounging (mostly rotten meat in processing plants and grocery stores. Can't get anything that moves unless it's a very good day), and enough stamina to move from one place to another. Truly pitiful, they're usually plucked up and cannibalized by meaner, more capable predators.
To me, this makes the most sense, and is the most fun to play with. So, with the basics down, there's a few other things I've theorized:
-Mutations
Everyone loves mutant zombies. To mutate, all you need to do is augment your DNA, then tell your cells to go crazy. And, you'll need to eat a lot to be able to grow. Jagged, bony outcroppings will need a lot of chitin (or calcium) to grow effectively. If you want more size, you'll need to eat up.
-The Brains
Classically, zombies want brains. That's just how they roll. I always thought it was to make restoring their own easier.
Viruses reproduce by decimating the host material. In order to sustain the subject matter, there needs to be an intake of edible tissue. In this case, cognitive matter. So, zombies need to eat brains to get smarter, and keep their virus population up to status. Brains are ideal because they're brains. They are 100% what a growing zombie needs. I suppose substitutes would work, but the quantities and portions would have to be sufficient. Is there a substitute for brains? Tofu, maybe?
-Half zombies
A pregnant woman gets bitten. Not... that other thing.
A half-zombie may gain a form of immunity to a parasitic virus, but inherit other traits. This is a gray area, as no one else has really delved into it. The game Sonny best illustrates what I try to get at. He's a zombie, but it's not a big deal.
-Culture
One thing I enjoy pondering is how maximum-freshness zombies fit in with a regular human society, once they stop shooting at each other. It makes for an interesting background, even if Fallout has pretty much answered the question.
July 6, 2013
Surprise Endings
Sometimes, I'm blown away by small plot devices and sudden realizations. It doesn't help that I've been simmering in early-summer heat all day, and drinking caffeinated soda. I'm a little shaky, and I think it helps.
A good friend of mine was GMing. It was the typical end-of-times fare: Oil is gone, large fissures are dividing the surface of the Earth, and asteroid strikes are a common sighting.
Our characters were: An auto mechanic in California, a Kuwaiti globetrotter with an appreciation for martial arts and spirituality (that's me), and a UN diplomat.
The plot was mainly escaping from natural disasters. California was flooding (thus taking the auto mechanic, Phillip, Eastwards), Kuwait was about to get fissure'd (thus prompting my flight to Geneva), and the UN diplomat was nice and snug in (guess where?) Geneva, Switzerland.
There was an interesting Act 1, even though I don't think it was intended that way. Act 1 was us abandoning hope, and making for higher ground. Philip, the mechanic, started to head east before California flooded. My flight was supposed to get to New York, but I decided Geneva was much more friendly towards people of middle-eastern descent. James (The UN Diplomat) had to work on some paperwork for a large pow-wow to decide the fate of the world, in the only character arc not motivated by self-preservation.
Act 2 (even though the GM doesn't know about the three-act story) was about aliens. Yes, aliens. James had one knock on his door at 4 in the morning, and found out it was a shape-shifter named "He." They talked a bit, then James went to bed.
I met up with them a bit later, as I was walking by his house. He (To tell the name from the pronoun) had taken to looking identical to James, so I was rather confused, but they eventually convinced me to come along and see what the madness was about.
Philip was caught at a road-side barricade in Nevada, and taken to a FEMA camp. 24 hours later, everyone else was killed horribly. The bodies were stripped of flesh, organs, and skin, but were "posed" like they were at the moment of death. He touched a soldier's uniform, and the whole assembly came crumbling down. He scavenged some weapons and supplies, then hit the road again. In his rear-view mirror, he saw something large, bony, and insectoid glaring at him. He waved and drove off.
The end of Act 2 took place at the UN meeting. James and I decided our best bet was to let He tell his side of the story: There was something else, commonly called "The Ravager," but called She in their native language. Simply put, She will eat everything and move on. So, the only way to survive is to hide underground for 300 years (3600 lunar cycles) while She starves to death.
James and I utilized He's abilities as a shape-shifter to get past security, and into the main chamber. James was called upon to give a report, and saw this as his time to put He on a pedestal for the whole world to see.
~
Now, this is where something very interesting happened. The GM had us play the part of various foreign leaders to get He's full situation report. We spent about ten minutes getting familiar with his plan, and this whole part worked out really well. It's definitely something I'll want to use in the future.
The end of this debate was He showing his true form. He's ten feet tall, and bright silver. Security (and the snipers) panicked, and shot him. He is not bulletproof.
Then we realized something. In order to prove that he is an extra-terrestrial organism, he would've revealed his true form at the beginning of the speech, not the end. Thus, we thought, he would've been gunned down before he could bend down to speak into the microphone. Thusly, his speech and plan would never have been delivered. So, James and I were left as the only two people who knew how to survive She.
~
Act 3 is the story of She almost wiping out the entire human race. Unlike He, She has very few physical restrictions. She is nearly indestructible, can teleport, is highly intelligent, and very perceptive (except for finding things underground. Blind spot!). Also, for every kill it makes, it can reproduce.
We started with Philip, who met up with a cousin, and sought refuge in an Army bunker. She had already killed everyone inside and left, so they buried the bodies, closed the hatches, and spent the next two years scarfing down MREs and listening to the radio. It was really sobering, listening to the process of America dying. First, reports come in of aliens, cult killings, and bigfoot sightings. Then the radio stations start going dark, fleeing an "unseen epidemic." In two months, America is silent. In two years, the North American continent is desolate. In two and a half years, they run out of MREs, and can see nothing outside the armored doors. She missed them. Barely.
James and I had a different end. Realizing our chance to shephard humanity into life-saving bunkers was kaput, we left for the mountains of Europe and lived off the land. We had the same result- two months until Scandinavia was empty, two and a half years until the radio couldn't pick up anything.
Our days are spent hunting, trapping, and recording our lives on cave walls with charcoal. We thought about using books for journals, but the paper would erode too quickly.
While on a deer hunt, we noticed the game was spooked by something. We waited to make sure it wasn't a bear, and found nothing. Once we went to skin the game, we were ambushed by a couple of Shes. Instead of killing us outright, however, they grinned as much as their mandibles allowed, then left. Mocking our frail existence, as well as our race.
And, that's where it ended. I later found out it tied into another RP we've been cooking up (basically a Reign of Fire/Mechwarrior mashup), and fit perfectly. But, that's not my main focus.
~
We were all expecting a "good" ending. Either, He delivers a speech to the UN on how to kill these things, or at least coordinates a mass-migration to below the Earth's surface to survive the She-pocalypse. But neither happened. He died, and we were left to survive on our own and watch our planet die away. It was very moving, and shocking on a severe level. No happy endings, just three people who won't see the planet recover. And yet, it was fulfilling. We did it. We stuck it out until the end, and our writings on walls might be remembered and upheld by future generations (what few there will be). Or, they'll be ignored and slandered. At least we tried.
~
He mentioned that every male on their planet is called He. No individuality to speak of. I'm not sure if this is the same She that they reproduce with, or if they just don't know how to classify it. I didn't probe that deeply. What matters is, it was weird, and different enough to portray an alien as something uncomfortable and dissimilar to what we call "human." It actually caught on after a while.
Now, I must retire to bed, and have some really groovy nightmares. Until later.
-Nosnamreh
A good friend of mine was GMing. It was the typical end-of-times fare: Oil is gone, large fissures are dividing the surface of the Earth, and asteroid strikes are a common sighting.
Our characters were: An auto mechanic in California, a Kuwaiti globetrotter with an appreciation for martial arts and spirituality (that's me), and a UN diplomat.
The plot was mainly escaping from natural disasters. California was flooding (thus taking the auto mechanic, Phillip, Eastwards), Kuwait was about to get fissure'd (thus prompting my flight to Geneva), and the UN diplomat was nice and snug in (guess where?) Geneva, Switzerland.
There was an interesting Act 1, even though I don't think it was intended that way. Act 1 was us abandoning hope, and making for higher ground. Philip, the mechanic, started to head east before California flooded. My flight was supposed to get to New York, but I decided Geneva was much more friendly towards people of middle-eastern descent. James (The UN Diplomat) had to work on some paperwork for a large pow-wow to decide the fate of the world, in the only character arc not motivated by self-preservation.
Act 2 (even though the GM doesn't know about the three-act story) was about aliens. Yes, aliens. James had one knock on his door at 4 in the morning, and found out it was a shape-shifter named "He." They talked a bit, then James went to bed.
I met up with them a bit later, as I was walking by his house. He (To tell the name from the pronoun) had taken to looking identical to James, so I was rather confused, but they eventually convinced me to come along and see what the madness was about.
Philip was caught at a road-side barricade in Nevada, and taken to a FEMA camp. 24 hours later, everyone else was killed horribly. The bodies were stripped of flesh, organs, and skin, but were "posed" like they were at the moment of death. He touched a soldier's uniform, and the whole assembly came crumbling down. He scavenged some weapons and supplies, then hit the road again. In his rear-view mirror, he saw something large, bony, and insectoid glaring at him. He waved and drove off.
The end of Act 2 took place at the UN meeting. James and I decided our best bet was to let He tell his side of the story: There was something else, commonly called "The Ravager," but called She in their native language. Simply put, She will eat everything and move on. So, the only way to survive is to hide underground for 300 years (3600 lunar cycles) while She starves to death.
James and I utilized He's abilities as a shape-shifter to get past security, and into the main chamber. James was called upon to give a report, and saw this as his time to put He on a pedestal for the whole world to see.
~
Now, this is where something very interesting happened. The GM had us play the part of various foreign leaders to get He's full situation report. We spent about ten minutes getting familiar with his plan, and this whole part worked out really well. It's definitely something I'll want to use in the future.
The end of this debate was He showing his true form. He's ten feet tall, and bright silver. Security (and the snipers) panicked, and shot him. He is not bulletproof.
Then we realized something. In order to prove that he is an extra-terrestrial organism, he would've revealed his true form at the beginning of the speech, not the end. Thus, we thought, he would've been gunned down before he could bend down to speak into the microphone. Thusly, his speech and plan would never have been delivered. So, James and I were left as the only two people who knew how to survive She.
~
Act 3 is the story of She almost wiping out the entire human race. Unlike He, She has very few physical restrictions. She is nearly indestructible, can teleport, is highly intelligent, and very perceptive (except for finding things underground. Blind spot!). Also, for every kill it makes, it can reproduce.
We started with Philip, who met up with a cousin, and sought refuge in an Army bunker. She had already killed everyone inside and left, so they buried the bodies, closed the hatches, and spent the next two years scarfing down MREs and listening to the radio. It was really sobering, listening to the process of America dying. First, reports come in of aliens, cult killings, and bigfoot sightings. Then the radio stations start going dark, fleeing an "unseen epidemic." In two months, America is silent. In two years, the North American continent is desolate. In two and a half years, they run out of MREs, and can see nothing outside the armored doors. She missed them. Barely.
James and I had a different end. Realizing our chance to shephard humanity into life-saving bunkers was kaput, we left for the mountains of Europe and lived off the land. We had the same result- two months until Scandinavia was empty, two and a half years until the radio couldn't pick up anything.
Our days are spent hunting, trapping, and recording our lives on cave walls with charcoal. We thought about using books for journals, but the paper would erode too quickly.
While on a deer hunt, we noticed the game was spooked by something. We waited to make sure it wasn't a bear, and found nothing. Once we went to skin the game, we were ambushed by a couple of Shes. Instead of killing us outright, however, they grinned as much as their mandibles allowed, then left. Mocking our frail existence, as well as our race.
And, that's where it ended. I later found out it tied into another RP we've been cooking up (basically a Reign of Fire/Mechwarrior mashup), and fit perfectly. But, that's not my main focus.
~
We were all expecting a "good" ending. Either, He delivers a speech to the UN on how to kill these things, or at least coordinates a mass-migration to below the Earth's surface to survive the She-pocalypse. But neither happened. He died, and we were left to survive on our own and watch our planet die away. It was very moving, and shocking on a severe level. No happy endings, just three people who won't see the planet recover. And yet, it was fulfilling. We did it. We stuck it out until the end, and our writings on walls might be remembered and upheld by future generations (what few there will be). Or, they'll be ignored and slandered. At least we tried.
~
He mentioned that every male on their planet is called He. No individuality to speak of. I'm not sure if this is the same She that they reproduce with, or if they just don't know how to classify it. I didn't probe that deeply. What matters is, it was weird, and different enough to portray an alien as something uncomfortable and dissimilar to what we call "human." It actually caught on after a while.
Now, I must retire to bed, and have some really groovy nightmares. Until later.
-Nosnamreh
July 5, 2013
Field Report #1
This is something I've been meaning to do since the very beginning of the blog. One of the most important parts of any craft is self-improvement. And, critical to this process is archivism and memorization. Computers make this much easier.
With that in mind, I recently met up with some siblings and cousins for July 4th to show them what I do as a hobby. It's actually easier to show, rather than tell (and, so should everything else about this work). There were five players- but, I don't totally remember which ones did what exactly, so I'll just mention "a player" if something needs to be mentioned. I suppose in a more detailed and exact setting this would be required, but for now, it's just a fun into to RPing.
The setting was the Office of Applied Telecommunications. The employees of this institution have the training to inhabit someone's consciousness over a telephone line, then "drive" the bodies on the other side. All recipients of this must be consensual, and the native intelligence has the option to regain control at any time. You don't need to remain on the line to drive someone, but it's a nice bail-out option. Aside from this, the characters didn't have (or need) any special characterization. The only non-standard ability they needed was to dial someone up and jump in.
~
I made a pretty weak attempt at an act 1, in the beginning. The players begin in their "office-" a bulletproof enclosure with two armed guards outside, in the bowels of a secure office building. The worst-case scenario for a wire-driver (catchy, I like it) is that someone kills them while they're in someone else's head, so security is a must.
They're called up to see their boss, who has something to tell them. I offered the option to call his secretary, and walk in as her (common practice in the office), but they declined and decided to walk instead. Okay, alright. No worries.
On the way over, there's something on TV: A space shuttle mission to deliver telescope parts to the ISS is under way, in order to examine the incoming "Arkady Cluster," a large asteroid group on a rough path for Earth.
Their boss's artificial leg had broken into several pieces, and he wanted them to relay some information to the archives department. I gave each of them one piece of it, in manageable chunks. This way, they could remember it and recite it completely as someone else.
With that in mind, I recently met up with some siblings and cousins for July 4th to show them what I do as a hobby. It's actually easier to show, rather than tell (and, so should everything else about this work). There were five players- but, I don't totally remember which ones did what exactly, so I'll just mention "a player" if something needs to be mentioned. I suppose in a more detailed and exact setting this would be required, but for now, it's just a fun into to RPing.
The setting was the Office of Applied Telecommunications. The employees of this institution have the training to inhabit someone's consciousness over a telephone line, then "drive" the bodies on the other side. All recipients of this must be consensual, and the native intelligence has the option to regain control at any time. You don't need to remain on the line to drive someone, but it's a nice bail-out option. Aside from this, the characters didn't have (or need) any special characterization. The only non-standard ability they needed was to dial someone up and jump in.
~
I made a pretty weak attempt at an act 1, in the beginning. The players begin in their "office-" a bulletproof enclosure with two armed guards outside, in the bowels of a secure office building. The worst-case scenario for a wire-driver (catchy, I like it) is that someone kills them while they're in someone else's head, so security is a must.
They're called up to see their boss, who has something to tell them. I offered the option to call his secretary, and walk in as her (common practice in the office), but they declined and decided to walk instead. Okay, alright. No worries.
On the way over, there's something on TV: A space shuttle mission to deliver telescope parts to the ISS is under way, in order to examine the incoming "Arkady Cluster," a large asteroid group on a rough path for Earth.
Their boss's artificial leg had broken into several pieces, and he wanted them to relay some information to the archives department. I gave each of them one piece of it, in manageable chunks. This way, they could remember it and recite it completely as someone else.
- It's called Project EverReady- a syringe four inches long, designed to improve soldier nutrition and endurance during night-time operations.
- There was a problem. Early symptoms were yellow eyes, decreased motor functionality, and other symptoms indicative of Malaria.
- Mid-way symptoms were hallucinations, babbling, no physical ability, and moderate psychosis.
- Late-stage symptoms were an inability to communicate, extreme hostility, and cannibalism.
- The situation was resolved with several airstrikes, JDAM bombs, and the national guard sweeping the area.
The players asked why he didn't take the information over himself, or send an email. His answers (AKA my answers) were that IT is having problems, and his leg is going to take a while to put together. We went back and forth for a bit on this. The players recognized it as me railroading them, and decided to just go with it.
Either they walked to archives, or made a conference call (five players jumping inside one person's head). Either way, they met someone in archives named "Kingston." They relayed the information (quick version? Zombies. They're dead now.), and Kingston mentioned he's sorry for the inconvenience, seeing as they're reserved for the day.
... Wait, what?
It's really sketchy to be "reserved" in this job. Most of the time, you get a call, and jump in. So, that's a little black-ops.
Kingston went back to his filing work after they finished talking, and the players head back down to their office. Act 1 complete. This whole section was supposed to be an intro to the everyday life of a wire-driver, and it partially succeeded, even if I kind ham-handed it.
~ Popcorn break ~
In their office, the players get their assignment. NASA is having some trouble, and they need some wire-drivers. There's five phone numbers in the file, to five "liasons" (People who's job is to get driven around) at the NASA office.
They arrive in NASA, as expected. All the people they arrive at have lanyards, which identify they are being driven, and they're not the actual employee you see before you. In just the other room, they find a man in his late 40's drinking coffee. He introduces himself as Ken, one of the NASA supervisors for the mission. There's a window that looks over this room:
And it looks like people are panicking. Ken gives the following brief: Six astronauts went up in the shuttle, and five are now comatose. The one who's still active is an Air Force sergeant named "Simms." Simms lost communication about six hours ago, and they need to stabilize the situation. They want the wire-drivers to get into the astronaut's heads (via headsets they're wearing), see if the bodies are usable, then make sure Simms stays alive. He mentioned there was a possible fire hazard on board.
There's another thing, too. NASA wants Simms to know he has clearance for something called "B Tube," now that the mission has gone as bad as it has. Ken doesn't know what B Tube is, but it's in Simms hands now, once he finds out.
The players are immediately suspicious, and want to know what it is before they tell Simms to go for it. They ask Ken to direct them to his boss, Albrecht. "He's got a clear door with a dry plant next to it." He takes them gladly, and two players decide to take off the lanyards indicating they're being driven. Ken raises and eyebrow but doesn't say anything.
Albrecht is busy in his office, sending emails, crunching numbers, and being executive-like. He may even have a drop of sweat on his forehead. "You're the guys from Telecom?" He asks, seeing Ken's people. Both of the "hidden" players mention two of the wire-drivers aren't in yet, and they're just keeping up with the crowd. Albrecht doesn't catch on to the ruse, and just mentions "Alright. I don't understand how your office works, do what you have to." After grilling him for a bit about B Tube, he doesn't really know what it is. "Something to help the astronauts up there, I'd assume. My boss gave it to me."
The players are getting pretty suspicious by this point. But, as Ken points out, there's a lone guy on the shuttle who's in desperate need of some help. The players go along with it, head back to the room they came from, and dial the astronaut's phone numbers.
In orbit, the bodies are really nice. They're fit, they're in good condition, they look pretty good, but there isn't a consciousness. It's like they're in a coma. Typically, the host consciousness has a presence in the mind- it can point things out, talk to the driver, and explain the significance of certain people or objects. No such thing here. There is another presence in the mind, but it doesn't have any activity. Somewhat like jacking someone while they're asleep.
They were tied to the "beds" on the shuttle, and the buckles are easily undone. They can hear activity in an adjacent section, so they call out. Simms pokes his head in.
Simms is highly sleep-deprived. He's got bags under his eyes, and he's a little bit bloodshot. A lot of the electronics have been opened up and examined as he tries to troubleshoot the radio problem.
The players agreed, ahead of time, they're not going to tell him he has "B Tube" clearance. But, they will ask him.
His story is as follows: Everything started fine. Ignition, launch, tin can in a tornado. But, about an hour and a half in, the rest of the crew started to show signs of sleep deprivation- lowered cognitive ability, clumsy, sleepy. He hit himself up with an adrenaline stick, and send the most tired ones to quarters first. Ten minutes later, he was the only one who was still awake. "And, funny thing is, they rushed me through the program. Thank goodness I'm a pilot, or we'd really be shafted." he tied everyone to their bunks, and has been maintaining a steady orbit since.
When asked about B Tube, he mentioned "I dunno. I think it's a defibrillator of some kind." He's not awake enough to be suspicious, so they keep going. On the way to the broken radio, the players notice a large metal container in the cargo bay. "The replacements for the ISS," he mentions. He shows them the radio, and says he's been asking the computer to help him troubleshoot, but he's been getting nowhere. "Did you meet someone named Ken? You did? Well, he probably knows what to do. Please, get down there, and ask him what I should do. No comms is a really bad way to fly up here."
At this point, the players make a game-plan. Two of them will head back to see Ken, and work the radio problem. Two more will stick around with Simms, and learn as much as they can about space shuttle 101 in case he needs to crash from sleep deprivation. Yet another one is going to get a closer look at the chest (discreetly), then rejoin the others.
The chest had some of the following specifications:
- This chest rated up to 22000 PSI impact hardness
- Rated for 3 days of gamma radiation exposure
- This container does not contain supernatural or paranormal entities
- Certified by Arnhardt metallurgy and munitions company
There were a few others, but I remember these ones. The player who examined it mentioned, "Okay, we have a plan B. Put Simms in the box and shove it to Earth."
We laughed a bit, and I remembered I'd ham-handed it once again. The chest has hinges as big around as my forearm, and was welded, bolted, and strapped to the floor. No way in hell it's going anywhere.
A transmission from Earth triggered a cold-war communication device. Remember that thing from Doctor Strangelove, that pops up the letters and numbers that you look at in a code book? One of those. The message was, "communication established." But, the radios were still out. So, Simms theorized it was a burst transmission that would let the players beam around some more, but not enough to establish radio. Yeah, direct plot device for convenience. Sue me.
Another notebook had information about B Tube. It was referenced in the index, then on a sticky note on the appropriate page.
"When the time comes, open the chest, pull the small case out, and follow your training. -Albrecht"
In the meantime, Ken saw to the radio problem as best as he could. The computer was taking a while, so he struck up a conversation. "After being in the program for as long as I have, everything becomes so dependable. For example, I can promise you that all of those astronauts have 72 vaccinations before launch. Go ahead, look it up."
It took some addition goading, but the players opened up the personnel files and looked at it. 72, 72, 72, 73, 72, 72. "This one has 73."
Ken grinned and chuckled. "Ha ha, guys. Funny."
"No, really. Take a look."
[drops coffee] "Say what!?"
Simms had an additional one, as it turns out. The plot thickens. Ken calls one of his buddies down in medical, and relays the name of the vaccine. It's not recognized by the system as existing.
~
And, that's where we had to cut it off. It was fun, and the siblings and cousins look forward to finishing it. We'll Skype it some time. I'm going to be doing this with my usual Saturday group, so that should be cool.
One thing that impressed me was the depth the players went to. They asked questions, second-guessed things, and generally acted like normal people would in that situation. Part of this, I attribute to them being new players to this thing. We did it a few times in our youth, but it's been a long time since then.
A new player doesn't understand the "norms" of this activity. For example, most of them didn't know if their death was a possible ending (it's not. The story is designed for success). But, being totally new in the world, they had a more real response to the things around them. It also helped that they don't know my GMing style- what's important, what's not. They looked deeply into everything, made group decisions, and went about it very carefully. Excellent!
This is a pretty sizable report, compared to what I was expecting. Not that I mind. I look forward to making more in the future, especially once the EE gets kicking. Until then, stay cool.
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