A Game of FRANTIC ADVENTURE in the manner of PULP MAGAZINES, RADIO SERIALS and SATURDAY MORNING MATINEES Game Description: From London to Cairo to the steaming jungles of Burma, the name of Fu Manchu means deadly assassins, unnatural beasts, drug-crazed minions, unpeakable evil. He is opposed largely by dim men smoking pipes. And mad scientists. And beautiful women in their underwear. The “cast” contemplating the fates that await them... Photo by V.O. Schmidt. Can you play any of these? A multi-player, multi-sided game of intrigue, action and immense stupidity. Crash planes into pyramids, fight untold horror, drive without due care and attention... I typed that piece up, sent it off to the organiser of these things for Historicon ‘02, and wondered (as I sat in my suite at The Royale, overlooking Cannes harbour, a good single malt and handmade Turkish cigarettes from Vafiades of Cairo at my elbow etc etc) what in the blue blazes had got into me. Sometimes I get the urge to do something completely over the top. I’d been reading tremendous amounts of 1920s-30s fiction, from John Buchan’s dashing British espionage tales to classic American hard-boiled private investigator stuff, with some PG Wodehouse for foolishness thrown in. I’d watched ‘the Mummy’ and Indiana Jones over and over. I’d gone into Tut’s tomb with Carter, got lost on the Amazon with Colonel Fawcett, taken trains with Sidney Reilly through Bolshevik-held Russia. So, with Historicon 2002 coming up I wanted to do something Pulp. Something High Adventure. Something recklessly action-driven, rushing around the globe facing down the machinations of evil-doers. So I did – I wanted to do a game where a lot of players could command a personal character figure and a handful of sidekicks. With a maximum of involvement and a minimum of fuss. In a variety of locations, rather than on one big table. Like a Saturday morning serial from the inter-war period, with cliffhangers and sudden changes of setting, plot and possibly actors. So I looked at my resources: A CAST OF THOUSANDS! Figures: Enough heroes, heroines and sidekicks in passably 1920s gear (OK some are really late Victorian – anyone really concerned about lapels and the cut of jackets?). British and American cops. Gangsters. German soldiers in tropical kit. A film crew . ‘Darkest Africa’ explorers and others in tropical khakis. Lots of Fu Manchu’s Chinese. Mexican peons and banditos from the Old West box. Amazon tribesmen. Odd ‘Call of Chtulhu’ figures. Vampires, zombies, all that sort of thing... PROPS! A couple of 1/48th scale planes from the 1930s, and a load of diecast cars and vans from the period, mostly by Lledo, all bought cheap and repainted. SETS! No Hollywood backlots for us! I made a list of scenery I owned that could be used to make small sets around 2 foot square – ie movie set sized action rather than big battles. Eventually I cut the list down to: A ruined church with tunnels leading from the crypt into the graveyard A ‘henge’ of nine standing stones A Greek Island with a ruined temple and a cavern underneath A hobo camp in the Louisiana bayou country A dinosaur find in the Arizona desert An Egyptian rock tomb A Buddhist temple carved under a cliff with a series of waterfalls. The last was going to be the scene of what I persist – despite catcalls from the audience – in calling the Denouement of the whole thing. But what I didn’t have was either a scenario plotline, other than that it was some nefarious scheme of Dr Fu Manchu’s, because it always is, or a set of rules. This last part seemed the least important; after all, it’s just running around and shooting at people, or hitting them and tying them up, after all. But, beyond a few ideasthat it was about a plot that featured both mad science and strange occult stuff (the ‘Weird Tales’ catalogue) and that there would be some effort at kidnapping beautiful young women for virgin sacrifices, which is the whole point of a tremendous amount of bad cinema, I didn’t actually have a story to hang it all on. So I asked for volunteers –Enter Matt Fritz, Nigel Clarke, CB Stevens, Ross Maker, Walt O’Hara – stalwart men all. I sent them what I had so far, which was a cast list and a few scrawled jottings. Cast Denis Nayland Smith, nemesis of Fu Manchu. Sort of like Sherlock Holmes, but less so. Dr Petrie, slightly dim witted sidekick Karamanieh the beautiful ex-slave of Fu Manchu, now married to Petrie Sir Lionel Barton, mad archaologist prone to dynamiting things that shouldn’t be. Sir Lionel’s beautiful daughter, Rima Shan Greville, Rima’s fiancé, fairly useless in a handsome way. Major James Bigglesworth AKA “Biggles’, a pilot and hero to generations of British schoolboys. Mr Bertie Wooster, and manservant Jeeves Indiana Jones, an archaeologist (not mad) Sam Spade, a detective from San Francisco Colonel Irwin Rommel, a good German Erich von Schnitzel, a director Roxy Smothers, a starlet, dahling Plot Fu Manchu plans world domination by seizing various occult artefacts from different religions and cultures in an effort to harness their arcane powers, with the aid of a virgin sacrifice, at the Lost Temple of Vishnu, hidden deep within a sacred mountain, deep in the Assam jungles. This will unleash a torrent of energy which, harnessed by the Devil Doctor’s amazing Engine of Souls (better name, anyone?) will allow him to, well, dominate the globe. Various scientists etc will be involved in either stopping this nonsense or being killed to prevent their doing so. Or kidnapped to suck their brains out, of course. Any additional ideas? I wrote up a few very basic rules, which Matt celebrates (snort!) as ‘largely ignored’ when the game took place. I arranged to meet them all before the actual game, telling them that they would each have a ‘set’ of their own to do whatever they liked on. We did meet, though, since I had not thought about the need for the previous game to be taken down from the tables allotted us, this was all a bit rushed, with players lining up and me setting up terrain as I went: WALT O’HARA: “Is this the briefing for Evil?” Yes it was. There were six ‘sets’ on four separate tables, none of them more than two feet wide and mostly not more than that in length. Manoeuvre? Deployment? Ha! Just jump out of the diecast police cruisers and into the hail of gunfire —Walt took the bayou-country hobo camp. CB the Greek Island, and Nigel the ruined church on the Welsh moors. Matt and Ross took the next two scenes – the dino dig and the pharaoh’s tomb respectively, while I set up the final ‘jungle path to the hidden temple’. I got extra water jugs and took out most of the chairs. This game did not call for chairs. Until the very last moment a voice inside me was asking whether any of this would work. The players divided themselves up around the various sets. An imaginary gun went off. Within minutes, as Nigel explained how Fu Manchu’s minions had abducted the beautiful daughter of mad archaeologist Sir Lionel Barton and were keeping her captive in the crypt of the ruined church, while Walt was going on about ‘serum-infected hoboes’ and a shrieking female voice demanded from the Greek temple that she was a STAR, dahlink – I knew it would be —- THE GAME This exercise in organized chaos was set in seven different locations, spread over five tables, accommodated at least 20 players, and five “assistant directors.” The players were not given many details about the plot since it was so incredibly evil and complicated that any mortals foolish enough to contemplate it in its entirety would surely go mad, plus we hadn’t made up a lot of the bits just yet. Roughly speaking Fu Manchu was trying to acquire powerful artifacts and a virgin sacrifice so that he could activate his Soul Engine and, dare I say it, control the world. Insert ominous thunder and maniacal laughter here. In actual practice each of the directors was free to do whatever they wanted with their scenes, and they sneered at the mere mention of thinking up logical transitions. Although Howard had, in fact, written down some rules they were largely ignored by both players and directors alike, and thank goodness for that. There was something about three attributes: Guts, Gats, and Fists. Also the heroes could call out “Cut!” and redo a scene if things had gone badly, but mostly it was fly by the seat of your pants and Devil take the hindmost. (Walt adds: demonstrating that a good gamemaster, or team of them, can overcome such paltry considerations as “rules” or “systems” and still make a great game.) The madness was interrupted temporarily so Otto Schmidt from The Society of Daisy could give Howard the first ever “Humor in Gaming Award.”(See the writeup in the Historicon ‘02 reportin The Courier Dispatch - ED). Everyone involved in the game thought it was well earned. With so much going on at once I wasn’t able to keep track of all the action, but I’ll report what I can. In the first reel the heroes could choose one of three locations: a hobo jungle, a ruined church, or a Greek island. Each location had a director/umpire to make up crazy stuff and keep the action going. Nigel Clarke was in charge of the ruined church where the heroes tried and failed to save the mad archaeologist’s daughter who was being held prisoner in the underground crypt. At the hobo jungle Walt O’Hara had concocted a scene that included a mad scientist hiding from Al Capone, bootlegging, fire, and a serum that turned tramps and hobos (but apparently nobody else) into zombies. The tramps and hobos were the unwilling guinea pigs in an experiment led by a captive scientist utilizing an ancient Egyptian reanimation serum. Naturally, Capone’s mugs were the unwitting dupes of the Fiendish Manchu. The action must have been pretty rough because at one point Walt called for reinforcements, “Get more gangsters, find me some with choppas.” I was later informed that Hercule Poirot was burned like a Thanksgiving turkey when the booze caught fire. I can only imagine what that scene was like: Sam Spade notices the fire is spreading to the barrels of booze, and Poirot is standing right next to them. “Hey! Frenchie! Run for your life!” he hollers. Poirot, the pride of Belgium, coldly stands his ground, “How many times must I tell you? I am not French, I am BelgAAIIIIIEEEE, it burns!” Sam Spade (crushing out a cigarette on his shoe): “tough break, Frenchie...” (Walt clarifies: indeed, it took seven sequential failings of a rather generous saving roll for Hercule Poirot to die in a rum runner’s truck explosion, at which point the assistant director decided to write Poirot out of the script. Sometimes, you have to accept that Fate is trying to tell you something) On the Greek island famed movie director Eric Schnitzel was using the scenic temple ruins as a backdrop for his latest film “The Virgin and the Fiend.” The one chink in Fu’s armor was a certain, shall we say, native Chinese naivete about virginity, especially the notional kind.  This would lead to mixups as to who to kidnap. Fu Manchu naively assumed that the female lead of such a film must be a virgin and planned to abduct her. If he’d bothered to ask Roxy Smothers she would have told him “That boat already left the dock, doll face.” To make things even more interesting Indiana Jones showed up, with his extended family, and some pushy Germans also crashed the party. C.B. Stevens directed this action packed scene. As the scene opened Eric and Roxy were in the midst of a titanic struggle of wills over the blocking for the Greek Temple shots.  Roxy insisted that the natural lighting near the edge of the temple was sooooooo much better for her on-screen persona, while Director Schnitzel was adamant that the proper place for Roxy was in front of that curious statue.  Actually, Schnitzel mentioned a few other places Roxy could go as well, but they played no part in our little drama.  Eventually, the doughty director set his titanic ego aside and appealed to Roxy’s overwhelming vanity, which set things aright and allowed the film crew to get on with it.  It was about this time that Indiana Jones showed up, accompanied by his father, his wife (?) and a very large Asian gentleman who must have had all his “Indy” movie appearances end up on the cutting room floor.  He was known to us only as “Big Fat Eastern Guy”…(Director reports that additional research indicates this was ‘Sallah’ from Raiders of the Lost Ark). Indy and company, using their keen intellect (and the fact that they had peeked at the scenery before the game started) went straight for the statue, barging right into the middle of Mr. Schnitzel’s Opus.  One might imagine the ensuing brouhaha…hahaha…heeheehee (Did I mention that up to this point the Assistant Director – me – hadn’t had to interject a single thing into the scene?  These players were most definitely into it!)  The adventurous archaeologists began an immediate and close inspection of the marble-that-Elgin-missed, and discovered that there was emanating form it’s location the strange sound of distant chanting.   Meanwhile, BFEG (obviously hoping to get his face on screen in America’s Bijoux Theaters) fended of the screeching Roxy, the roaring Schnitzel, Zelda the Script Girl and the nameless “cameraman”. At this point, appearing as if by magic, the Stosstruppen arrived under the command of the redoubtable Colonel Irwin Rommel – whose press release described him as “the Good German”.  Oh, how the press lies!  The Teutons made a very impressive entrance, but rather lost their initiative by milling about on the beach… Indy, on the other hand, was taking matters into his own hand.  Completely ignoring the very loud protestations of Schnitzel and Roxy, (who were so much into character that they actually seemed more interested in shooting their film than getting on with the game scenario) Indy deployed his family about the base of the statue and began to push.  A very odd strategy indeed, which nearly ended in tragedy as the Great Heroic Figure (the statue, not Indy) toppled over onto Jones, Sr. and the Missus.  Luckily, they both managed to leap aside at the last instant, thanks to generous interpretations of their “Stunts” die rolls by yours truly. Adding to the mayhem, the minions of Fu Manchu had finally made their appearance.  Four sinister figures, clad all in black and armed with swords and bows, mounted the rocky outcropping and stood in their inscrutable way with disdainful eye and ferocious intent. None of the characters bothered to bother with them.  (When asked, the player running Von Schnitzel announced, in a movie-German accent, “I thought zey vuz der caterers!”). The Chinamen (nb. It’s considered OK to say ‘Chinamen’ in a 1920s Pulp context; otherwise it’s very rude) loosed a flight of arrows that clattered all about the ancient stones in a furiously futile hail of little pointy things.  Indy and company, staring down into the dark hole they had uncovered below the statue, were of two minds what to do.  Schnitzel, unable to accept this THIRD interruption to his shooting schedule, was happy to sit back and direct as Roxy launched herself at the Chinese henchmen, armed only with her cigarette holder and a fierce right hook.  Indy, making one of those quick decisions for which he is so famous, shoved his Pa down the dangerous hole and then went gallantly to the aid of the stentorous starlet.  He took an arrow in the arm, of course, but shrugged it off.  After pistolling two of the yellow devils, who failed to fall dead as expected, Indy scampered back to the hole and stared down into the darkness.  Roxy, showing a bit more moxie, finished off the wounded villains, giving them each a sharp jab in the eye with her trademark cigarette holder. The Germans, meanwhile, following the maxim of their illustrious leader – “Time spent in reconnaissance is never wasted” – looked on. Indy finally slipped down into the secret underground lair, leaving the oversized BFEG to guard the hole. Schnitzel continued to shout directions at one and all. More Chinese appeared!  In wave after wave they pushed the characters back across the temple floor.  “Cameraman” fell mortally wounded under the onslaught.  Schnitzel laid about him with his riding crop as Roxy fled toward the far side of the island – into the waiting arms of more Chinese who appeared as if from nowhere! Rommel, apparently more accustomed to this swirling melee style of combat, rushed along the beach to Roxy’s aid, but the Chinese leader had grabbed her (carefully avoiding her right hook, her flailing feet, and her deadly cigarette holder) and was dragging the fearless starlet in the opposite direction.   As the Teutons and the film crew gave chase along the rocky shingle, there suddenly appeared at the far end of the island a group of scruffy, armed Greek fishermen.  Obviously some part of the notorious Fu’s organization, they immediately put up a steady and totally inaccurate fire on our cast of heroes and heroines.  The Germans drove off the Greeks with far more accurate fusillades of 8 mm Mauser fire, and then dove into the general donnybrook on the beach centered around wresting Roxy from the grip of the ebony-clothed villains. Schnitzel, standing above the battle royale on the rocky plateau, decided to enter the fray by hurling himself down upon the Chinese leader.  Failing miserably at his “stunts” roll, he crashed sickeningly into the rocks at the base of the slope.  With a resounding shout of “CUT!!!”, he remounted the hill and tried again.  His second attempt was no more successful.  Roxy, tiring of waiting to be rescued (even by the handsome Germans), gave the Chinese leader a swift kick in the you-know-whats, shoved him into the drink, and made a bee-line for the cave entrance that led into the secret underground chamber below the temple.  The Germans, oddly enough, followed close behind… Meanwhile, in the hidden room beneath the temple, The Joneses had discovered a trio of Chinamen cowering in a corner and jibbering over a pile of globe-like objects all mysteriously wrapped in oilcloth and twine.  Understanding immediately that these must be objects of great power, coveted by the dreaded Fu Manchu, Indy deployed his family to cut off all escape.   When verbal persuasion failed to wrest the objects from the Chinamen, Indy turned to fisticuffs, knocking the poor sods out one by one. Just as Indy was recovering the objects, Roxy rushed in with Rommel and crew close behind.  The wily German Colonel deployed his men in a firing line along the back wall, and began to assess the situation, mumbling something about shooting Indy.  Jones, being no fool himself, decided it was time to leave.  With a wrapped globe in the hands of each member of the Jones clan, the three skidooed back the way Roxy had come.  The Germans, left with no target for their itching trigger fingers, decided that he next best thing to do was kidnap Roxy themselves!  Feigning distress and resistance, Roxy allowed herself to be frog-marched back out onto the beach, all the while admiring the Soldiers’ blue eyes, blond hair and rock-hard muscles. What Next? As the characters all wondered what might happen next, there appeared on the horizon (or at least on the edge of the table) the British submarine HMS Regrettable.  Upon surfacing the vessel debouched a landing party of doughty Jack Tars led by an officious young Ensign.  Taking the situation in hand, this sturdy young officer convinced the vile Boche to unhand the fair young maiden and lay down their arms.  As the landing party herded everyone into the waiting boats, the Ensign approached Indiana Jones.  “What”, he asked, “do you have there sir?”  Indy, having been relieved far too often of his archaelogical treasures by bit actors after struggling to fleeting victory through a difficult scene, was loathe to respond.  The Ensign, taking one of the objects, unwrapped a sticky, five pound ball of raw opium.  “Mr. Jones,” he pronounced, “I arrest you in the name of the King for the transport of narcotics with the intent to distribute.  To the brig with him boys!” Then it was on to the second reel where the heroes again had three choices for their next scene. Some chose to go to Neolithic henge where “cabinet ministers, bishops, ambassadors and other prominent men disguise themselves in cultic robes to commit human sacrifice.” Others headed for “The Egyptian tomb where curses protect the dead pharaoh.” I was the director for the third location - the dinosaur finds in the Sonora desert, which actually turned out to be in Mexico. I was busy with my own scene so I missed most of the action at the other locations. I can only report that Nigel followed up the mayhem at the henge with an impromptu car chase. Ross Maker directed the action at the Egyptian tomb and it included a plane crash, a liberal dose of arrows, and it ended with a bang when someone blew the tomb up with dynamite. In my scene the heroes included the Jones family (Indy, Indy Senior, Indy Junior, Indy’s wife, and Big Fat Eastern Guy) and the pushy Germans led by Colonel Rommel. I decided to use “The Treasure of the Sierra Madre” as inspiration after locating some nice bandito figures. I also found a pair of cool looking Aztecs so I shifted the scene to Mexico, and mixed in a little “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Thinking way too hard about the plot I came up with the idea that Fu Manchu needed one more ingredient for his Elixir of Life. Asian folk medicines sometimes make use of bones. The most powerful bone would, of course, come from a T. Rex, and the most potent bone of all would be the pelvis bone. Thinking fast I fashioned a bone out of a scrap of paper napkin I found on the floor. So it came to pass that Indy and his family raced to the deserts of Mexico to find the T. Rex fossil before Fu Manchu could get his bony claws on it. As they dug in the hot desert sun a scruffy man appeared and, holding his hand out, said “Stake a fellow American to a meal?” Senior gave him $20. When the man had picked his chin off the ground he warned the party that there were banditos in the area and stalked off muttering something about mugs trying to steal his goods. The players didn’t know what to make of this but it was very amusing for the director (me). The Banditos arrived and insisted that they were Federales (no badges needed). Since Indy didn’t have a fossil-digging license they told him he’d have to pay a “beeeg fine.” Wifey decided to see if she could sweet-talk her way out of trouble. Unfortunately she was a little too charming and the bandit chief declared his intentions to abduct her, take her back to his mountain lair, and make hot Mexican love to her. It was at this point that Indy sucker punched him from behind. The chief struggled to his feet yelling, “Keeel them, keel them all. Except the girl, we’ll need her later.” Just then the Germans arrived. I never really figured out where they came from, but they seemed to think that Indiana Jones had stolen their heroin. And no, they weren’t after the “heroine,” it was “heroin,” I checked. They immediately began the difficult task of forming a line so they could shoot everyone in sight. These were obviously not your high quality Prussian-type Germans but some inferior breed. As the Germans struggled to get in line Big Fat Eastern Guy waddled into action. Up until now he had spent his time sweating through his black three-piece suit, but suddenly he charged the Germans like a giant human bowling ball. Krauts went flying everywhere and Big Fat Eastern Guy finally rolled to a stop face down. It was no surprise that the Germans regained their feet before Big Fat Eastern Guy. They formed a circle around him and spent the next few turns administering a five German stomp down, but Big Fat Eastern Guy wouldn’t give up and most of the blows bounced harmless off his rubbery rolls of fat. Watching with exasperation, Colonel Rommel wondered aloud “How many Germans does it take to kill one big fat guy?” The answer, he would learn later, was six. Elsewhere Indy and Indy Senior were busy punching and shooting the hapless banditos so Indy Junior and his mom went to find the bone. Junior located the artifact and showed it to his mom just as the real villain arrived. It was the evil archaeologist from “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” thus breaking the Historicon record for most archaeologists in one game – eat your heart out Barry Bonds. Two dangerous looking Aztec warriors accompanied him. The Aztecs were in a surly mood because they were dressed in skintight jaguar costumes and, having been out all day in the hot sun, the chafing was starting to get to them. They attacked immediately. Junior ran for his life while his mother attempted a fighting withdrawal. A few yards away the Germans were still working on Big Fat Eastern Guy. “Aim for the bony parts,” the colonel suggested helpfully. Finally, running out of patience, the five Germans held down Big Fat Eastern Guy while the Colonel strode over, took out his Luger, and shot him. Problem solved. Indy and his wife finished off one of the Aztecs so the evil archaeologist needed some reinforcements. Getting into the spirit of the game I decided that what Fu Manchu really needed to fetch the bone was a vicious snarling wolf. Turning to Walt I said, “I need a wolf.” With hardly a moment’s hesitation Walt handed me one. It was that kind of game. Elsewhere the Germans were rapidly exterminating the surviving banditos. The evil archaeologist decided to try a parley. “Professor Jones, if we continue to fight the Germans will kill us all. I propose a truce until the Germans have been defeated. Then we will settle our differences like gentlemen.” Indy agreed. Just then a second group of banditos charged into view. These were the second stringers, banditos so incompetent that they couldn’t be trusted with firearms. Waving machetes, they headed for the Germans. This was precisely the kind of distraction the Indy clan needed to spring into action. Mrs. Jones blasted the Aztec with a shotgun and Indy put a pistol bullet into the wolf. The wolf ran off yelping with his tail between his legs. The evil archaeologist could only wave his walking stick in a threatening manner and curse as Indy escaped with the bone, and the Germans fought for their lives. Fade to black. All the surviving characters gathered together for the final scene – confronting Fu Manchu in his secret lair, conveniently located in the heart of a mountain amid the steaming jungles of Assam, or something like that. The players gamely placed their figures at the end of the table while Bigglesworth selected a heroic place to crash his plane. The heroes had to fight their way through an incredible array of dangerous encounters orchestrated by Walt O’Hara. These dangers included, but weren’t limited to: hostile natives, a Chinese rocket cannon, a lost tribe of primitive humans, hot tamale lava (cleverly fashioned from the shreds of a candy box), an instant gorilla (just add water), an infernal machine, a mystical riddle (“What’s black and white and red all over?”), mutant rats, and marital (or was it pre-marital?) strife, infernal devices, and (at Walt’s demand)  the villainous Tor Johnson (Walt says this Scandinavian actor/wrestler form the distant past of movie-making should never be omitted from a good pulp – apparently an old RAFM Call of Chtulhu figure in my box is a dead ringer for him). (Walt adds -) See Ed Wood’s Night of the Ghouls for an example of Johnson’s soulful rendition of the character “Lobo the Man-Beast.” In the End In the end most of the players made it into the heart of the fiend’s lair, where other players were being held prisoner and Fu Manchu’s Soul Engine was just revving up. Howard took over from an exhausted Walt for the final scene. His voice, now a guttural rasp from shouting “CUT!” so often, had failed. It was a kaleidoscope of action, far too confusing and hilarious to accurately describe, but I’ll try to mention most of the highlights. The Soul Engine started sparking as it approached full power, violating all kinds of FCC regulations in the process. Rima Barton, kidnapped from the very start of the game to the immense frustration of the player (John Caskey) portraying her, finally escaped her captors, and sought out her fiancé so that she could slap his face and break off their engagement for being such an idiot throughout. Roxy Smothers was tied up, waiting impatiently to be rescued. Fu Manchu engaged in some hilariously incongruous dialogue with Nayland Smith. Smith dramatically raced to the Soul Engine and searched for the power switch. He couldn’t find it. Next he tried to pull the plug but there wasn’t one. How inscrutable can you get? Fu Manchu laughed triumphantly! The fiancé, noted only for his exquisite barbering and astonishing inability to pass any tests, ever, got picked up by Fu Manchu’s monster, and swung like a baseball bat. Everyone else dodged out of the way and tried not to snicker when the poor guy’s head collided with the wall. Indiana Jones did something cool with his whip, pushing us precariously close to an R rating. Zelda the script girl ran forward, with badge and pistol and revealed herself to be a US Treasury agent. Fu Manchu had not submitted his US taxes for 1927-1930, and questions were being asked! Regaining his wits (such as they are), Nayland Smith smashed the Soul Engine to bits. Someone tried to grab Fu Manchu but ended up with nothing but an empty robe. Observant players got a glimpse of the naked fiend darting down the back staircase, or at least they imagined that they did. It’s an image that will linger for weeks. Meanwhile Roxy had freed herself by burning through her bonds using her cigarette. The credits rolled as Roxy pushed past the confused heroes, blowing smoke in their faces. “Out of my way, peasants, I’m a movie star!” After that there was nothing left to do except listen to everyone make up outrageous lies about what their characters had done during the game and begin planning the sequel. Whatever happened to Fu’s legion of the undead?  we’ll never know – not until the studio agrees with Roxy’s management on her new contract demands – RULES AND SUCH There really weren’t many, and most of those were ignored. Breathless action was the main objective, on the “You see a bandit. What are you going to do?” – “I’m going to shoot at him” – “roll your GATS score or under” – a ‘3’ – “He falls down.” – “I run past him” sort of theme. Each player did have a briefing, like this: Name FISTS GATS GUTS STUNTS SPECIAL SKILLS Bertie Wooster 3 2 2 2 nice manners Jeeves 4 3 5 3 can arrange events to precise needs of employer Mr Bertie Wooster, and manservant are currently travelling for the purpose of avoiding a girl. Mr Wooster has accidentally become engaged to her, her father, and the entire British Union of Fascists. There was some suggestion that an additional rating for SMARTS be added, especially since M. Hercule Poirot, famed for his little grey cells but notably weak on the other fronts, died horribly – Walt stated that ‘possibly no human being is less suited to fighting zombies than the late M. Poirot.’ Upon reflection, perhaps Ellery Queen or Kasper Gutman might have been more physically incompetent… just.. The most useful rules were that players could shout ‘cut!’ and demand that an event be re-shot (ie done over) if they didn’t like the result. The assistant director was allowed full discretion over this, and also with allowing players to interrupt the actions of The Forces of Evil when it seemed right to do so. HOW CAN I DO THIS MYSELF? What, get 20+ people milling around loudly in a sweaty room for three hours? That’s what a big convention is ideally suited for – there really are a lot of potential players. You could do the same sort of thing at a big club, or an invitational games day. And it doesn’t have to be 20+ players, 5 assistant game-masters, 6 tables, loads of figures and props, though that does make for an impressive event. You could easily take the ‘episode’ themes to make a mini-campaign with one group of players and two or three separate ‘sets’. The real point is to move the action along briskly, and to know that if you keep each episode down to 30-45 minutes you can move on to the next step, whether it be logical (from the church, via the car chase, to the henge) or completely senseless (so Indy is a captive on the submarine – and now he’s in Mexico? Did I miss an episode?) DOES IT HAVE TO BE ‘PULP’ THEMED? Not at all. This is simply a means of accelerating a short campaign into a back-to-back series of actions played one after the other. The Pulp theme simply makes it into a B-movie cinema genre, where scenes take place all over the world. A ‘sixties spy novel’ game would clearly have scenes in Berlin, a Las Vegas casino, and a Caribbean Island, whereas a WW2 commando raid might have three scenes on a clifftop, inside a chateau, and making a fighting withdrawal to a beach – scenes far closer together in time and place, and hardly different from a conventional game except for the director choosing to divide the episodes rather than run them together. I ran a huge western game at Nashcon some years ago in which all the sets were placed according to the geography of the old west, where you could move from a gunfight in Dodge City to a rustler’s rendezvous in Indian Territory to a revolution in Mexico. The point is to keep each set separate, even if the division between them is only a line of trees or- in this case- two rocks and a giant cactus! SO WHAT ELSE DO I NEED TO KNOW? The rules don’t matter. The plot is dubious. The characters are paper thin. It’s all in the action. Be confident! “There is a zombie in the backseat of your Model A Ford! What are you going to do about it?” If he hesitates, or asks about the rules, well, suck his brains out. The others will get the message quick enough GREAT QUOTES FROM THE GAME Matt compiled a list. “Here are some of the funniest lines (real and imaginary) heard in the thick of the action. In no particular order: “We’ve got to save my fiancé....” struggles to think of a good reason...”because she’s hot!” “I can handle him, I’ve already killed him once.” “Damn all men!” “Keep the cameras rolling!” “I shoot all the natives as I run past them!” “I should have listened to mother.” “Jeez, how many Germans does it take to kill one fat guy?!” “Out of my way, peasants, I’m a movie star.” Question:  “Can I shoot him?” Answer:  “Yes....no.....ummmm who the hell are you again?” “I can’t possibly defeat you clean limbed English men...with your square jaws..and round, firm bottoms..” Question:  “Bigglesworth, what do you see happening to your character after this adventure?”  Answer:  “I’ll go on saving the world for the next forty years and never get a day older!” Umpire:  “Your character is a mad scientist.” Player: “Oh. Is he really really angry, or just a little pissed off?” Back to Table of Contents -- Courier #86 To Courier List of Issues To MagWeb Master Magazine List © Copyright 2003 by The Courier Publishing Company. This article appears in MagWeb (Magazine Web) on the Internet World Wide Web. Other articles from military history and related magazines are available at http://www.magweb.com