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Just Another Day

September 30, 2000 in Articles


Just another day in this Hell on Earth.


I rode towards Junkyard, the fuel gauge skimming the bottom o’ E. No
sign of bandits, but if the monsters don’t getcha, the human ones do.
Before the war, you could get from Sacramento all the way to Ol’ Salt
Lake City – that’s Junkyard now for all o’ you who haven’t been paying
attention for the past thirteen years, in a couple o’ hours. Not
anymore. Go any faster than twenty and you’re askin’ to fall into a
pothole the size o’ Missouri.


Ridin’ along, mindin’ my business, when I saw the birds. Now, I know,
they’re just birds, but NOTHIN’S “just birds” in this world no more.
It’s a sign o’ trouble, those little black birds circlin’ around. Birds
don’t just circle for no reason. They only circle when there’s
somethin’ to circle around, usually a buncha people that got shot up.


This time, it was Doomsayers.


How come I can never just go from one place to another and have nothin’
go wrong on the trip? Is it too much to ask for a nice, leisurely trip,
when I don’t have to shoot nobody or worry ’bout how many people I have
to kill to get from one freakin’ city to another? ‘Cause the world’s
gone straight to hell, that’s why.


Could see the smoke risin’ up from the city not long after I first
noticed the birds. I pulled out my trusty binocs – the right lens is
broken, but the left one works fine. Maybe when I get to Junkyard I can
get someone to fix it – and chewed on a Jerky Treat while I looked the
place over.


Big skull, hangin’ over the town, looked like a nuke fer sure. Now,
there’s nothin’ I hate more than indescriminant nuking. I mean, it
totally destroys the scavengin’ possibilities, and we’ve gotta make do
with what we can find. So if there’s any Doomsayers out there readin’
this, relax that nukin’ finger and kill people like a civilized person.
I mean, we’ve gotta rebuild the world, right? And if ya keep blowin’ it
all to hell it’s gonna be damn tough to do.


There might still be people there though, so I had to check it out.
It’s gonna kill me someday, but I feel I’ve gotta make the world a
better place or somethin’. There’s enough people tryin’ to take over,
or just blow everythin’ up, someone’s gotta work the other way.


I was hopin’ to stay the night in that town, “New Hope” they called it.
Well, don’t look much like there’s any hope there any more, so I checked
my shotgun. Both barrels loaded, plus five spare shells I traded for at
the last town. SA Sidearm – check. And a crowbar in case things got
messy. I ditched the bike off the road a bit, and snuck towards town -
it was gettin’ dark, so I figured I could crawl up ’til I could see the
whites o’ their eyes, or whatever color the muties had. I ducked behind
a wooden fence and looked around.


The Doomies were stayin’ in town, looked like. Three greenrobes, with
what looked like a pair o’ three year olds – if you grow your three year
olds ten feet tall. Grundies. One o’ Silas’ crew was a girl, looked
pretty normal. One was a guy around seven feet tall that looked like a
duck. He had these flaps o’ skin runnin’ down his side. Weird. The
other was wrapped all up in bandages. He looked like their leader.


With luck, the greenrobes spent most of their juice “pacifying” the
town. They were probably hangin’ out tryin’ to regain their mojo before
finishin’ off the townspeople an’ returning home to do whatever it is
bad guys do when they’re not doin’ bad guy stuff. Three doomsayers,
and two grundies. If I did this right, I could pull it off, if luck’s
on my side…


I double-tapped at the mummified one, and he spun and went down,
bleedin’ and squealin’. That’s when everythin’ started happenin’ at
once. The girl pulled out an SMG and sprayed the wall I was hidin’
behind, taggin’ me in the left arm, as the duck came waddlin’ my way.
The two grundies looked around, startled by the noise, lookin’ to the
girl for directions.


She was pointin’ my way, so I started sneakin’ down along the fence,
holdin’ the blood in. Three gunshots rang out behind me. I froze a
second, but I wasn’t dead, so they must’ve missed. Lookin’ back, I saw
the ugliest thing I ever seen. A six foot tall cockroach in a bad
suit. Dunno where the Reckoners thought that one up from, but it musta
been a SERIOUSLY bad dream. There was another girl, maybe fifteen, with
messy blonde hair and an SA Sidearm. She cut it down from behind as it
was sneakin’ up. Remind me to thank her later…


I don’t rightly remember exactly how it happened next, but I took the
duck down with both barrels from my shotgun as he started glowin’. I
knew that was bad news, and it had to end right quick. I ducked back
’round the fence and almost ran right into the other greenrobe. Now, I
couldn’t rightly shoot a lady, so with my good arm I whacked her one
across the noggin with the crowbar, and said goodnight. One of the
grundies sat down an’ started cryin’, an’ the other ran an’ hid.


Everythin’ went dark as I passed out, I guess I took a worse hit than I
thought. The grundies ran off after a while, and I woke up bein’ cared
for by a couple o’ the townsfolk. They gave a gallon o’ spook juice and
three days o’ canned dog food in thanks for savin’ their skins. In the
mornin’ it was off to Junkyard…


Just another day tryin’ to survive in this little place we call Hell on
Earth…

Avatar of EDG

by EDG

Cybergeneration: Revolution 2

January 10, 2000 in Reviews

“My parents became Cyberpunks and all they left me was this dark future.”

Cybergeneration, R. Talsorian Games’ followup to their highly successful Cyberpunk 2020 line, puts a somewhat unique spin on the Cyberpunk world. The year is 2027, and the Edgerunners have all but vanished; the Corporations have taken America and the world, and arcologies stand where cities once sprawled. Most adults have been assimilated, and spend their days working dull, soulless jobs and their nights dreaming of the days when they had s real future. A deadly plague sweeps the land, killing most people over 20 who encounter it. The adults have only one chance left, one hope of destroying the Megacorps and returning America to a free state.

Their children.

Cybergeneration is a game not for children, but about children. It concentrates heavily on the works and days of the children of the Edgerunners, forming street gangs and rebelling relentlessly against the evils of the Megacorps. The design of the book reflects this, from the almost attention-deficit organization to the scrawled typeface used throughout the book. (Fortunately, it’s used only for headers and page numbers – else, the book would be unreadable.)

Character creation in Cybergeneration is, unfortunately, mixed in with the introductory story. While this might make for an interesting way to introduce new players to the game, it’s frustrating for more experienced players to have to edit out the adventure in order to make a character – and as there are parts of the adventure which should only be read by the GM, it’s difficult to allow a player who’s in the adventure to look through the book in order to create her character. There is a character creation summary, but it almost requires a player to refer constantly to the regular creation rules due to its extreme brevity.

On the other hand, had the adventure been later in the book, and character creation been more cohesive, it would have been a lot of fun. New characters are guided through generation by an Edgerunner named Morgan Blackhand, and creation is treated as though the character were simply giving information about herself. This tends to create more of a connection with the character, more of a sense of /being/ the character.

For the most part, skills and statistics work the same way in Cybergeneration as they do in Cyberpunk, and indeed, rules are provided for converting Edgerunners to the Cybergeneration world. Add Stat to Skill, then roll 1d10 and add that to the total; if your combined total is higher than the target number, you succeed. Thus, there are always a certain set of activities that a character will almost always be able to do. The exception to this is on a total fumble – a 1 on 1d10, which is an automatic failure. On the other hand, the system is also infinitely open-ended – if you roll 10 on your d10, you roll again and add; another 10 means you roll again, and so on, allowing for spectacular successes on a cinematic scale.

The setting and background is what really makes Cybergeneration, though. Regardless of what system you use with the game, the essence remains the same – you are children, rebelling against an oppressive authority. The wonderful thing about this game is that if you’re playing it dark and gritty, with characters who are all guns and sex, you’re missing a lot of the point. Characters in Cybergeneration are no older than 17, and as such are still idealistic, hopeful youths, many of whom have never actually seen someone die and most of whom aren’t yet out of puberty. Cybergeneration allows the player to relive youth, rebelling against anything as long as it’ll look cool.

The Verdict

High Point: background and setting

Low Point: character creation is poorly organized and jumbled in with the first adventure

Looks: 4 (out of 5)

Concept: 5 (out of 5)

Originality: 4 (out of 5)

Playability: 4 (out of 5)

Obsidian, the age of Judgement (or is it Judgment?)

January 2, 2000 in Reviews

Enter a world where humanity struggles against the forces of Hell and its minions.

Obsidian: the Age of Judgment is a roleplaying game set in the far future, where cybernetics and magic coexist. And humanity needs every advantage they can get, because Hell is quickly taking over Earth–Daemons roam the land, ranging from rat-size to mountainous! And in the last City built by man, they also roam the underground levels.

But there is hope–the Darchomen (a group of Mystics given power by a force called the Divinity) have set up the Law–an organization whose goal is to stop the forces of Hell and the Kultists who bring them into our world.

Now, if only they could get organized–and I mean the guys who created this RPG, not the players!

This game is a great concept–there can never be too many apocalyptic games, in my opinion–the system is interesting (at least to me, thus the POV title), and the references to two certain movies I happen to like are icings on the cakes.

Now, if only it were organized! I can’t explain it–it just seems like it could be better organized, so let’s just move on to the wish list.

Things I would like to see–an index, better cybernetic creation rules (and rules for installing), better editing (which could fall under ‘organization’), and website support for this diamond in the rough.

(BTW, is it my imagination, or are the motivations vaguely reminiscent of VAMPIRE? Just a coincidence, right?)

Enough whining about the flaws–let’s talk about the positive aspects.

This game has good potential, and I look forward to some supplements to see if the designers work on the flaws found in the core book. With all these threats to mankind, we had better see some kick-ass material! The “Wall of Obsidian” is what really gets to me, and I definitely can’t wait to see Wasteland to see if there’s more on that structure.

So, you guys at Apohis Consortium LISTEN UP–learn from your mistakes, and use the good stuff you already got to make OBSIDIAN a success.

After all, VAMPIRE had to have three editions, and they still don’t have it all together yet.

Parable of the Sower

August 23, 1999 in Articles


First things first: Kevin Nunn dropped me a line to point out Robocop
as an excellent source of the trade-off between power and personal freedom
(see last month’s column). Given that Robocop is one of my favorite
movies, I was a little embarrassed to have forgotten to point out such an
excellent source for GMs. Thanks for the heads up, Kevin. Now, on with this
month’s column.


Apocalyptic gaming has remained the red-headed stepchild of gaming genres:
it’s been there since the beginning, but it has never had a successful title
as has fantasy, SF, or cyberpunk. The key is that the apocalypse in and of
itself really isn’t enough to support a quality game world. There’s a couple
of things most every apocalyptic game world has in common:


  • Society is fragmented and unable to protect its members.
  • Supplies are scarce and basic survival is not a given.
  • The modern civilization has left behind a series of ruins full of danger
    and powerful artifacts.
  • Weird mutations have introduced a host of bizarre new creatures.

Those four points can pretty much be found in almost ANY game setting.
There’s nothing there that’s unique to post-apocalyptic gaming. Most every
fantasy setting has some sort of lost ancient civilization. If society was
able to protect the characters, then they wouldn’t have much danger to deal
with. And just about every game uses magic, weird science, or some other
gizmo to give the players funny looking beasties to blow holes in. When you
come right down to it, post-apocalyptic gaming boils down to a different
background than other games: before your character was born a lot of stuff
went ka-blooie. That’s about it. That doesn’t mean that post-apocalyptic
gaming has to stay dull, however. This scenario has been used in quite a few
SF novels. By looking at one of the most effective ones, we can learn a lot
about how to construct a refreshing end of the world game.


There’s two different ways that you can end the world: with a bang, and with
a whimper. Almost every game goes for the bang scenario. Let the nukes fly
so we can get on with the five headed mutants that gamers love to gun down!
Well, I honestly don’t see much difference between most apocalyptic mutants
and fantasy beasties. Both look weird and both want to threaten humanity’s
fragile existence. There’s not enough of a difference there to really make a
compelling game. So, why not go the opposite way? Let’s end the world with a
whimper.


In Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower, society is crumbling. The
divide between rich and poor has become a gaping chasm. Cities (not just the
inner city, but any urban area) are now overrun with homeless drug addicts
and ultraviolent criminals. Those few who can eke out a somewhat civilized
existence huddle together within walled communities, living off of
subsistence farming and venturing outside of the walls only under the most
pressing circumstances. Most communities are little more than fragile
islands in a sea of chaos. Police and fire departments charge exorbitant
fees for their services, leaving only the rich able to afford services that
were once considered essential. Society has collapsed for all but the upper
class. For everyone else, civilization is rapidly becoming a distant, fondly
remembered bit of nostalgia.


Into this uncertain world steps Lauren Olamina, a young woman who possesses
maturity and foresight far beyond her years. Parable of the Sower
follows Lauren as she is forced out of her walled community and propelled
into a quest for survival. But Lauren’s quest isn’t simply one of survival.
Convinced that society is fundamentally sick, Lauren conceives of a new
religion called Earthseed. Earthseed is a product of its environment. Lauren
preaches that hard work and foresight rather than prayer and blind faith are
needed now. Lauren hopes to find a safe spot to build a tiny community where
Earthseed can take root and flourish.


What makes Parable of the Sower so effective is that the remnants of
society as we know it are still visible. The police are still there, but you
have to have cash in order to get any help out of them. You can still go to
the local market and buy food, toilet paper, and soap, but you had better be
ready to pay ultrainflated prices. Even if you have the money to buy
anything, there’s no guarantee that you can hold on to what you have. This
intersection of barbarism with our modern culture yields an effective
setting. One minute, you’re buying a sleeping bag at Sears. The next, you’re
fighting a running gun battle with a mob of drug addled psychopaths. This
should be a key point in your game. Take pains to relate the slow spiral of
decay to your players. Relate events to their everyday lives, frame items
and locations in a context that speaks to their knowledge of modern America.
A burnt out ruin shouldn’t be anonymous wreckage. Describe it as the remains
of a McDonald’s franchise. Use what you see in everyday life to fill in the
details and ram home the point that the players are adventuring in a
familiar setting gone horribly wrong. Think of the typical RPG setting and
turn it on its head. Often, games are set in an era that sees ignorance and
the unknown pushed back as civilization expands. In Parable of the
Sower
, civilization is wiped away to reveal the barbarism and anarchy
that always lurked beneath it, ready to break out.


Any modern era game can use such a setting for a campaign, from Unknown
Armies
to Werewolf: The Apocalypse. The advantage here is that
with the collapse of society there’s no central authority to get in the way
of any campaign plans your may have. The downside is that there’s no central
authority to get in the way of any campaign plans you may have. Yup, you
read that correctly. You now have a lot of freedom to come up with stories,
but on the flip side you also lose one of the most important story tools to
keep characters in line: the social repercussions of destructive behavior.
In a world gone mad, barbarism and brutality are the norm. If everyone else
is doing it, what’s to stop your characters from joining in? This is where
story goals come into play. In Parable of the Sower, Lauren Olamina
has her dream of a successful Earthseed colony. Obviously, dead men can’t
join religions, so violence isn’t the best way to gain recruits. Similarly,
you’ll need a story arc that gives focus to your game beyond blowing up
people, places, and things. The first place you can look for info is the
first Idea Mine. That article deals with gaming in a world overrun by hordes
of zombies. The basic ideas presented there work in a setting inspired by
Butler’s work, just without the zombies.


A more interesting story line to follow, though, is one that mirrors
Lauren’s struggle to form a new community. Rather than create a physical
challenge for the players, give them a social and spiritual one. There’s a
lot of roleplaying potential here. Can the characters recruit people to join
them? Can they convince the residents of the small town that they’re
journeying through that they are simple travelers and not psychotic drug
addicts? One of the major hurdles facing Lauren is that no one can afford to
trust her. On the other hand, allies and friends are worth their weight in
gold in a world gone mad. By giving others reasons to trust her, Lauren
quickly gains allies on her journey. A gun may be nice in a hostile world,
but a trusted companion or two is much more likely to help you survive. This
should be a major theme of your post-apocalypse game and can help
differentiate it from other gaming genres. Instead of busting heads and
racking up combat skill points, your characters would be much better served
by talking things out and gaining allies.


There’s another major point in Butler’s setting that deserves mention: what
little authority remains is hostile at best and dangerous at worst. With
civilization falling apart, there’s no one around to police the policemen.
Civil rights are a distant memory, and cops are often no better than
legitimized thugs and bandits. This corruption of authority also spreads to
corporations. In Parable of the Sower, slavery has started to make a
comeback in the US. Workers are often forced to pay exorbitant prices for
food and shelter at company run stores. When they eventually slide into
debt, employees are forced by law to work off their ever increasing debt to
their employer. As anarchy rises, the remaining bastions of order view any
freedom as a threat. The collapse of society has created a fascist backlash
amongst those who still wield any power. This can quickly become a major
complicating factor in your characters’ lives and gives you a ready made
source for antagonists.


Finally, you should add a twist to character creation in order to create
fully fleshed out characters. Have each player create a normal, modern day
person. Then, add the skills and stat modifiers that you feel reflect the
character’s experiences as society collapsed. This helps to define
characters along an important divide: all of them were different people
before society collapsed. It also helps create believable characters. Most
people will not have survival or combat skills. These only become important
with the collapse of society. By limiting your players’ skill selection, you
can highlight the theme of everyday people trying to survive in a suddenly
hostile world.


Post-apocalyptic gaming does not have to mean funny looking mutants and
death rays. Societies collapsed in the past without the aid of nuclear
weapons. A non-nuclear, slow decay of society scenario can be far more
challenging than the typical nukes and mutants game. Call of Cthulhu
is so effective because the characters in that game are ordinary people
facing extraordinary circumstances. The same thing is true in a game set
during society’s dying whimper. Put down Ethelred the 10th level warrior and
try playing Myron Smith, a lowly accountant now trying desperately to pull
his friends through the death of civilization. The change may do you good.