Wrong thread, Skach. That belongs here.

Make you a deal, you keep all your little "C'mon, you're acting like an American" comments in that thread, and I'll do the same, eh?

@JimBob: You complain about badarse-clichés, and brandish this Pulp Fiction avatar?
Embrace badarseness and rock, I´d say.

Quote from: Settembrini@JimBob: You complain about badarse-clichés, and brandish this Pulp Fiction avatar?

One is self-deprecating humour; the other is roleplaying. Those are different things.

Quote from: SettembriniEmbrace badarseness and rock, I´d say.

No thanks. Badarsedness is a slut, I'd like to embrace one who hasn't been around quite so much. You can have him!

Quote from: RedFoxYou miss the point entirely:  His haunted war history in Timor has nothing to do with exploring abandoned structures.

Now if he'd said that instead of finding Colonel Kurtz and the heart of fucking darkness he'd gotten lost in a bomb-shelled city and wandered around for days and saw some odd or wondrous shit in there that made him always want to poke his nose into such places...  Sure!  Great character idea.

Quite true; one could introduce the point to the setting.

Never mind me about Timor; I just carry a slight chip on the shoulder about it.

Sorry for the slight derail, but I always thought when gamers talked about badarseness, the difference was they were talking about a kind of cliched badarseness like say Lawrence Fishbourne's character in the Matrix as opposed to his portrayal of Ike Turner in What's Love Got to Do With It...much the same as Sam Jackson's Mace Windu in SW as opposed to his Jules (Pulp Fiction) or Gator from Jungle Fever...the difference being one was menacing and unpleasent whereas the other (supposedly to gamers) kewl

Regards,
David R

Last night we had the first session of this campaign. For the players, it was a difficult session, since the state had record temperatures last night, up to 40 deg C (110 F), and bushfires damaging power lines meant that large parts of the state lost power. So it was pretty hot in the house, and we had to game by candlelight for half the session. Nonetheless, the players were good sports and played on, though they were a bit quiet and sluggish to begin with - but you can get that in any new game group and campaign.

Remember that the wiki for the campaign can be found here, aong with character descriptions.

What follows is not great literature, just the rough description I sketched out so that the player who was absent due to illness would know what was happening.


Episode I - Red Right Hand

Take a litle walk to the edge of town
Go across the tracks
Where the viaduct looms,
like a bird of doom
As it shifts and cracks
Where secrets lie in the border fires,
in the humming wires
Hey man, you know
you're never coming back
Past the square, past the bridge,
past the mills, past the stacks
On a gathering storm comes
a tall handsome man
In a dusty black coat with
a red right hand

He'll wrap you in his arms,
tell you that you've been a good boy
He'll rekindle all the dreams
it took you a lifetime to destroy
He'll reach deep into the hole,
heal your shrinking soul
Hey buddy, you know you're
never ever coming back
He's a god, he's a man,
he's a ghost, he's a guru
They're whispering his name
through this disappearing land
But hidden in his coat
is a red right hand

You ain't got no money?
He'll get you some
You ain't got no car? He'll get you one
You ain't got no self-respect,
you feel like an insect
Well don't you worry buddy,
cause here he comes
Through the ghettos and the barrio
and the bowery and the slum
A shadow is cast wherever he stands
Stacks of green paper in his
red right hand

You'll see him in your nightmares,
you'll see him in your dreams
He'll appear out of nowhere but
he ain't what he seems
You'll see him in your head,
on the TV screen
And hey buddy, I'm warning
you to turn it off
He's a ghost, he's a god,
he's a man, he's a guru
You're one microscopic cog
in his catastrophic plan
Designed and directed by
his red right hand

He'll extend his hand, real slowly for a shake
You'll see it coming toward you, real slowly for a shake
(Grabbing at your peril buddy?) cause you know you ain't
getting near much as he will take.

He's a...

He's mumbling words you can't understand
He's mumbling word behind his red right hand.


The party met in an inn and decided to adventure together! Well, the university pub, it was the start of the university year. Present were Raimundo, Cadel, Edward and Erica. There were also Ted, a big burly stupid guy from Cadel's classes, and Lucinda, a small goth chick from Erica's classes. Ted regaled them with tales of his days at the beach with hot women, and when he tried to chat up Erica, Erica claimed Raimundo was her boyfriend; Ted got them to kiss so he could take a picture and add it to his collection of pictures of girl's arses at the beach; he was happy to scroll through them and show his friends. Lucinda was fairly quiet and the party pretty much ignored her.

They resolved to go tunnel-tramping that evening, explore beneath the library. They rid themselves of Ted and Lucinda and off they went. Round the back of the library were storm drains ovrgrown with vegetation, they went down one. The drain went in an east-west direction, parallel to the back wall of the library. The eastern side was blocked off by old bricks, so they went west. They found it to be a storm drain which went right around the library, and also went further down; they descended. There they found a larger chamber with four large drains going into it. The place stank, there were a lot of dead leaves, old shoes, etc, sitting on top of the major central drain, everyone was sushing about in water. They went to the easterly one which went under the library. After a short distance they found a set of vertical bars, about 15cm apart. One or two small chunks of wood lay against them on the other side, obviously dragged them in some storm months ago. They tried the bars and found one would come loose. They squeezed through the 30cm opening and went on, Cadel clutching the120cm, 7kg iron bar.

They came to a t-junction, another stormwater drain led north to their left, and south to their right. A short step up directly in front of them led to a corridor going further east. This one was well-constructed and dry. Metal pipes were on the walls, and also tunnel lights - which were off. They went down this corridor, and after several metres found a doorway up a few steps. This door had a twist-bolt on their side, but was obviously opened from the other side. ossibly they could open it by a lot of banging with Cadel's iron bar, but they weren't keen on drawing attention to themselves - there might be some librarian on the other side. They went on.

Ahead of Edward in the front of the group he saw in his jumping torchlight something on the dry concrete. He bent to have a look and pick it up; it was a pistol, a semi-automatic. Remembering what he'd seen on tv, he took the magazine off, and cleared the round out of the chamber. The magazine and spare round clinked to the concrete floor, and the slide stayed back, as Edward said, "hmm, strange, it's wet," and then realised it had blood on it. There was now some debate as to what to do, but eventually Cadel took the pistol and looked it over. Being a boy from a farm, he thought to sniff it - it'd recently been fired. "Well, now our prints are on it anyway, in for a penny in for a pound," he said as he put it in his little backpack.

They went on, having noticed one or two spots of blood on the floor towards the east. Now Edward came across a horrible sight - a dark-clad figure lying in a second doorway, her body twisted, blood everywhere. The bile rose in his throat, but he steeled himself. He saw that it was Lucinda, the goth girl from Erica's classes. She had many horrible cuts on her arms and legs, mostly shallow, but one or two deep, running parallel and orderly to each-other; more improtantly, she had two large bullet wounds in her back. Blood was pooling all around her. Edward checked her pulse; she was definitely dead, but still somewhat warm, as might be expected since they had seen her only an hour ago. Edward's surmise was that the girl had been running away from someone at the time she was shot, and had collapsed while leaning against the door - blood smears could be seen on it. They couldn't see if she had anything in her hands, since her arms were bent under her, and they didn't want to disturb her body. Several pieces of empty brass were scattered about - the two rounds which struck her probably weren't the only ones fired at her.

All stepped forward for a look, their curiosity overwhelming them. Raimundo didn't have the stomach for it, and vomited in horror, mostly on himself, and sat there against one wall crouching and shivering. Cadel went to comfort him.

Again a debate followed as to what to do. Their prints and DNA were now on what they assumed was the murder weapon, their footprints were at the scene of death, and they were the last people, they assumed, known to have seen Lucinda alive. Edward was the strongest in favour of calling the police, saying, "we look guilty now, but will look more guilty if they come to us later, rather than we going to them now." Raimundo was untrusting of the police, and Cadel was in favour of just biffing the pistol somewhere and keeping everything to themselves.

As they discussed it, they went further down the corridor to look for another exit, and came to a third door. Erica borrowed Cadel's iron bar and banged the door open. They went through into what the engineer Cadel could tell them was the incinerator and boiler room. leaving bloody shoe prints behind them. Further on were stairs up and into the library proper. They went on, coming to the reception area, where they got a few curious looks, as their shoes were wet, Cadel carried an iron bar, and Edward had a red right hand. Campus security were sitting by the door ready to viciously assault anyone stealing library books. The group decided those guys were useless, and Erica went out to the public phones in the lobby to call the cops.

"We've found a dead body, horribly killed... come quickly!" They asked for and were given her name and address.

They waited in the lobby, and several minutes later two police sedans came rolling up, sirens screaming. Four cops wearing kevlar vests and belts heavy with various police equipments bowled out of the cars. On seeing the party, Cadel with his iron bar, Raimundo covered with vomit, and Edward with his red right hand, the four cops drew their pistols. "Get down on the ground! Now! Hands behind your heads!" Two covered them while the other two holstered their pistols, and cuffed the party's hands behind their backs. They protested that they were the ones reporting the incident, and were innocent. Edward kept yelling, "shut up, say nothing!" The four cops were a pudgy double-chinned sergeant, a young lean pasty-faced one, a stocky Pakistani, and a fair-haired one with thick moustache who bore a striking resemblance to the Malboro Man. They searched the party, removing from Erica her Swiss Army knife, from Cadel his iron bar and backpack, from Raimundo a pocket knife, and from Edward only his dingity. The prisoners disarmed, the police covering them now holstered their pistols.

They demanded to know where the body was, and Pasty-Face and Pakistani were sent off to find her. Some static on the Sergeant's radio showed the signal was blocked by corridor and concrete, but when the two returned their faces were pale and angry, and they described the bloody scene to the Sergeant. "That's disgusting," he said, "what sick stuff have you kids been up to?" The Malboro Man cop now looked in Cadel's backpack and saw the bloody pistol. "Son of bitch!" he said, showing it to the Sergeant. Malboro Man and Pakistani dragged Cadel off to the first police sedan, flinging him in the back seat.

Edward repeated his calls to his companions to say nothing until they got lawyers. The Pakistani cop kicked him and told him to shut up. "Police brutality!" Edward screamed at the top of his lungs. The Pakistani kicked him again and told him to shut up. Raimundo, coming from a rough background in Brasil, where the police were known to murder people just to establish dominance over the neighbourhood, couldn't bear this anymore (Rage Stimulus: Dictatorial behaviour). He started yelling about oppression and violence in Brasilian Portugese, and stood, jumped in the air and brought his cuffed hands forward like Jackie Chan. Pasty-Face stood there stunned by this quick move, and Raimundo lurched forward with his cuffs' chain at the throat of the cop, but his knees were weak from having squatted down and he didn't strike effectively. Pasty-Face and the Sergeant now drew out their truncheons.

Erica decided to help, and launched herself at Pasty-Face, aiming for a shoulder-tackle, made difficult by her hands cuffed behind her back. She missed completely, slamming herself into the chairs in the lobby, bouncing off them and into a vending machine. Edward stayed down on the ground, cowering, wondering how his day could go so wrong.

Over at the sedan, Cadel was sprawled across the back seat of the vehicle. Malboro Man with Cadel's backpack in his left hand, had turned away from the vehicle to see the fight, while the Pakistani cop was walking around the rear of the vehicle, presumably to get in the driver's seat. Cadel decided to stay where he was for the moment.

Raimundo had another go at Pasty-Face, and this time struck his throat, a solid whack to the larynx with a small metal chain and 65 kg of Brasilian behind it. Choking and gasping he collapsed to the ground. Behind him, the Sergeant struck at him with his truncheon, but missed. Still enraged, Raimundo followed Pasty-Face down to the ground, and as his hat fell off, grabbed him by the hair and started slamming his head into the tiled floor. A wet thump was heard and blood started appearing on the tiles. He now turned and saw the Sergeant's truncheon coming down at him, it this time struck him in the side, feeling like a freight train had hit him, breaking a rib. Nonetheless he staggered forwards on his knees, and headbutted the Sergeant in the groin, who fell to the ground gasping. Raimundo struggled up, and gave the cop another kick in the groin for good measure, sure that he felt something rupture under the toe of his wet sneakers, the Sergeant screaming in agony.

By this time, a small crowd of students was gathered about, standing in the reception area looking through the glass doors at the drama in the lobby, enthusiastically SMSing on their mobile phones to their friends about these events.

Now the Malboro Man and Pakistani saw this, and called to each-other and stepped forward to assist, forgetting about cuffed Cadel in the back seat of the car, bringing out their truncheons. Cadel caterpillared forwards along the seat and peered out. Both cops had their backs to him. He scuttled over to his backpack, and picked it up with his hands still cuffed, using it to conceal his cuffs as he walked away.

Standing up over the fallen and moaning police officers, Erica and Edward wondered what to do. Erica squatted down to the dazed and bleeding Pasty-Face, and stole his handcuff keys, freeing herself. She got her mobile phone, and dialled a sports journalist she'd known in her swimming days, Tom. "Come down here now! We found a dead body, and the police are accusing us, and there's fighting, and -" The reasoning was that with journalists around, they might get less kicks from the cops.

Raimundo came barrelling out of the library lobby, the blood of a police officer on his hands. The Malboro Man went inside, covering Erica and Edward with his pistol, and interrupting her phone call, while the Pakistani chased Raimundo. But Raimundo was simply too fast for the stocky cop, and lost him among the buildings; the cop in any case could not pursue him far since he couldn't leave his comrade alone with the three remaining suspects.

Now the Pakistani called for an ambulance, and backup. The campus security was used to keep the crowd back. Within fifteen minutes a police helicopter appeared above, and was joined by a Channel Nin helicopter, while a Special Operations Group van pulled up and disgorged half a dozen cops bombed up to the max in tac vests, carrying submachineguns, and so on.

And there the session ended, with

• Raimundo on the run, name unknown to the police, wanted for Resisting Arrest, Assaulting a Police Officer (two counts), Grevious Bodily Harm (two counts)
• Cadel on the run, name unknown to the police, wanted for Resisting Arrest, Escaping Police Custody, Possession of a Stolen Firearm
• Edward in custody, being questioned in relation to the murder of Lucinda James, and the assault on Constable Jones, and Sergeant Pimmel
• Erica in custody, charged with Resisting Arrest, and being questioned in relation to the murder of Lucinda James, and the assault on Constable Jones, and Sergeant Pimmel

It was fun

XP awards,

• Elmer - didn't show, 0 XP.
  
• Raimundo - Showed up (+1), Geek $ Jar (+2, contributed $10), roleplaying (+2, to play your character's traits even when they might get killed over them is "above and beyond the call of duty"!), bravery (0, doesn't really count when you only do it because you're engaged in Rage), constructive (+1, led the group into the tunnels); total +6 XP
  
• Cadel - Showed up (+1), Geek $ Jar (+1, contributed $5), roleplaying (+1, a simple guy, easily played), bravery (0, not so much), constructive (+1, by poking around nosily helped keep things moving); total +4 XP.
  
• Gentle/Edward - Showed up (+1), Geek $ Jar (+4, contributed $20), roleplaying (+2, surrendering rather than running away, realistic!), bravery (+1, braving police custody), constructive (+1, once in the tunnels, tended to lead discussions over what to do next); total +9 XP.
  
• Erica - Showed up (+1), Geek $ Jar (+2, contributed $10), roleplaying (+1, got the basics of Erica across), bravery (0, not so much, didn't commit to either fighting or surrendering to the cops, either of which would be brave, facing something personally confronting), constructive (+1, calling the journalists was a good idea); total +5 XP.

In addition, everyone gets +3 XP for being good sports about the crap weather and poor lighting. Raimundo's player gets -1 XP because when he went to the loo, he left the seat up, not impressing my spouse when she went to the loo in the middle of the rather sleepless night and copped the cold porcelain.

Did she lose XP for not being bright enough to look before she sat down in a toilet?

Quote from: James McMurrayDid she lose XP for not being bright enough to look before she sat down in a toilet?

The power was out as I mentioned, it was pitch black and dark.

Besides which, she's not a gamer, so she doesn't care about xp!

Mate, is that really all you got out of that journal?!

What is Geek $ Jar ? Is that the snack food fund? You give xp for this?

Regards,
David R

Sorry, I didn't read the eighteen page dissertation, just the XP synopsis. I guess "reach out and check" is too out of the question?

Quote from: David RWhat is Geek $ Jar ? Is that the snack food fund? You give xp for this?

Yes.

Originally, me and my French mate were gaming one-on-one, and each gave xp for the player bringing munchies, more or less in proportion to spending. A packet of chips would be 1, buying pizza or bringing beers, 3. When we expanded and got a full group, we kept this up, to reward those who brought munchies along and shared them.

Later we changed to a Geek $ Jar system, since people were spending something like $15-$20 a session on getting things at the last minute from 7-11, and that was making them late to the session, too. Since I work from home and am a chef anyway, I said, okay, five bucks from each of us will cover dinner and munchies, and everyone can come on time, and also save money. Everyone seems to be happy with this.  

I kept giving xp for it out of habit, then someone said, "hey, I paid four weeks in advance, don't I get 4 xp?" I said, "sure." So now that encourages them to pay in advance, which also encourages regular attendance, as discussed in the article Getting Players to Give a Toss.

The "constructive" award is also often for player action, as well as character action. So for example a campaign or two back, Tyberious Funk made a wiki for the campaign - that got lots of xp for him. If someone else hosts the session, they get it for that, too.

The idea is to reward being a good player - contributing to the fun of the group - just as much, or more, as being a good roleplayer. That's why I gave that bonus for it being a hot and dark night, and the malus for leaving the toilet seat up. My spouse also acts as host for the game, even though she's not a gamer, so if you are friendly and polite to her, that makes it easier for me to host and run the game; if you upset her, that makes it harder for me to host and run the game. Whether you consider the upset to be rational or not is irrelevant. Arguing over such a trivial thing will simply make the game group less welcome in the place. It's all about having a nice, friendly, happy session, with everyone being welcome to come back again.

We give bonus XP for anyone that brings food or drinks for the group. We've done it for years and it works great, because we all like full tummies and wetted whistles.

I don't give xp for contributing to the food fund, simply because I've never had a problem with folks handing over the cash We normally give 10 bucks each (8 players in all) to the host who gets us the goodies.

Sometimes food is cooked, sometimes it's takeaway. The host's brother whose not a gamer handles all this stuff. He told us, that over the months the stash was growing, and we were getting more and more elaborate meals/snacks...put it this way, it gotten to a point where he's experimenting with dishes from cooking shows

Back to your game. Have you got a campaign outline or are you just going with the flow...an improv kind of thing. Have you stated out some specific npcs? Linking some of the pcs background to the campaign plot etc.

Regards,
David R