Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

[RDU Neil]

SW- Bk 2 - Ep 1 continued

 

That evening, the four men decide to go out. Dr. Berkmann has been spending the last few evenings at a local hotspot, Club Credo, enjoying being the jovial old guy who chats up the ladies while wearing the loud Hawaiian shirt, silver hair pulled back in a pony tail, amongst all the young and painfully hip. He takes Ryu, Damien and Jones to the club, allowing Dr. Cole some time on her own back at the hotel. She has been trying to get more information on Stang and Jolly and Maggie, who had been taken into custody by the FBI three days ago… the day everyone else fled the country. She knows he had time, thanks to Jones’ warning, to try and purge most incriminating evidence… but this is her employer and friend and she wants to find out what is going on.

 

At the club, Mr. Jones is committed to working on his concentration… making sure he can remain visible and noticed. Surprisingly, he finds it easier than he has in the past. The waitress, he finds, only ignores him as much as she does everyone else. “I’m being ignored like NORMAL people,†he jokes… and finds himself enjoying a night out in a way he never has. Berkmann, always watching, is intrigued by this, and while he chats up the many local girls hanging out around the American’s, he analyzes Jones. About halfway through the evening, he gets it. The locals DO notice Jones more than he was used to back in the states, and that is because they notice Americans, specifically white male Americans, more here. The same way McGregor and Berkmann himself get more attention and notice in this locale, so does Jones. It is an intriguing insight on the physio-psychological dynamics of Jones’ ability. Berkmann happily fills in Mr. Jones on his insight and while Ryu sits quietly beside them, the other three drink to Jones’ good fortune.

 

The camera pans back from the group at their table, the frenzy of light and insessent beat of local trance style house music…

 

… then cuts with another table with men sitting around it. This is a small, weathered table of linoleum, under harsh yellow light. The men around it are dressed in dirty pants and soiled undershirts, as they chomp on cigarettes, swill beer, and stare at the cards in their hands. Most are short but muscular men, dark skinned and dark haired with that Malaysian/Chinese cross look of the Filipino. One man stands out. Tall and broad, fair skin turned rudy from sun, cropped hair and muscular arms… Terry Owens slouches across from the ship’s captain, waiting. Finally, after many long minutes, the captains says… “Do you have any… eights?†Through gritted teeth, Terry mutters “Go fish…†and the interminable game continues on. He can only hope they go back to Mahjong soon.

 

The camera continues to pull back away and out of a porthole then on upward, revealing a major hauler stacked high with shipping containers on one end, and holds full of fish on the other making it’s way to the ports on the southern isthmus of Luzon island. The ship is still 12 hours out, when the game finally breaks for the night, and Terry heads back to the alcove behind the foredeck boiler room, where his hammock is tied up. Not high class, but unlikely anyone would have a clue that he was here; big ship, big crew from all over the world. Terry could be just as invisible as Mr. Jones for this part of the trip.

 

Until now, that is. As Terry comes around the corner, he sees the big Russian. Tall, broad and blonde, Terry had seen the man… kid really… early in the trip. The kid was not only fit, but Terry noticed how he reacted when seeing Terry. A tightening of the spine, snap of the arms, the guy acted almost like he was coming to attention whenever Terry would appear. The young man does it again when he sees Terry now. Back straight, head up… almost cracking it on the low ceiling. “Must be six foot eight, easily,†thinks Terry. Not sure what to make of this, Terry keeps his eyes on the kids hands and feet, wary of attack. “You’re Vincent, right?†says Terry, remembering the kids name, and noticing a small satchel at his feet.

 

“Da, yes…†says the kid, smiling, and looking down. “Vincent Morin. Could I be talking you… with you…†he asks, stumbling over the English with a heavy accent. Terry assents, and the kind reaches for the satchel, pulling out a couple cold Tsing Tao beers dripping condensation. “Ok then,†says Terry, taking a beer. “What can I do for you?†The young man stumbles for his words for a bit before finally asking, “You are soldier?†of Terry.

 

“Used to be,†he says, looking at the kid. He sees the patterns but the kids eyes are open and lost, not hard. “You?†he asks, knowing. “Russian army.â€

 

“Da,†agrees Vincent. “Where?†asks Terry. “Chechnya… three years,†says Vincent.

 

“Yeah,†says Terry quietly, and sips the beer again. They are silent for a minute.

 

“What do you want, Vincent?†asks Terry. Vincent shrugs.

 

“I need job,†he says, and proceeds to struggle while telling Terry that his time with the ship is over when they hit port, and that he has no other options. He saw Terry, and hopes to be of use.

 

“I don’t know that I really do that kind of work anymore, kid,†says Terry. “Mercenary work. I’m kind of at loose ends myself.†Vincent understands and explains he isn’t really looking for fighting, but any work, dock work, heavy machinery, driving trucks… he is even good with “papers and numbers†he says. Logistics. Terry just listens.

 

Finally, “I don’t know kid. Look… I’ll see what I can find. I’m meeting friends tomorrow… one of the men knows a lot more about what’s going on than I do. You come with me, I’ll see… but no promises.†Vincent smiles and shakes his hand, nodding in understanding. “Spaceba! Thank you… no promises, “he says. Then pulls out one last beer and hands it to Terry. “For you…†Terry takes it, then sees the worn deck of bicycle cards also in the satchel. “You play?†he asks.

 

“Da! Poker!†says Vincent, pulling out the deck. “Oh thank god…†mutters Terry. “No more fucking go-fish…†and the two sit down on the floor to play for sips of the last beer.

 

Camera fades to black.

 

(more later)

[RDU Neil]

SW - BK 2 - Ep 1 cont'd

 

The next day, after the night out at the club, the entire group wakes up late, and then heads out to pick up Terry. His ship is coming in across the isthmus on the east, opposite Manila which covers the western side. In their rented taxi-van, McGregor buzzes them out of the city on to the open roads, before reaching the industrial dockside near Quezon. Making their way through the docksides to the appropriate birth takes some time, the roads being nothing more than aisles between massive building and more massive stacks of multi-colored shipping containers. Eventually Dr. Cole pays a dock worker for directions, and McGregor gets the van to the dock.

 

Terry comes out of the ship and down the gangplank, followed by Vincent, who towers over everyone else. Glancing around, Terry sees the van and the group waiting for him. In fact it is hard not to notice them. This is shipping dock, with few women, so Dr. Cole in her yellow sundress stands out quite nicely. Terry doesn’t see Ryu or Jones… maybe they are in the van, but he does see Berkmann and McGregor waving broadly. Berkmann is in his red an orange Hawaiian shirt with a white panama hat. McGregor wears a vest with no shirt to show of his muscular arms, Bermuda shorts and Birkenstocks, beer in hand. Both are pale where they aren’t reddish from sunburn, and all of them stand out from the dozens of Filipino dock workers. “You friends…?†Vincent asks, spying the group. His face betrays his skepticism. Terry just rolls his eyes and walks across the dock to the van.

 

At the van, Terry sees Ryu and Jones still in the van, wisely enjoying the AC in the hot climate. There are jokes and hellos, and then a few raised eye brows at the sight of Vincent following along behind Owens like a puppy. “Make some new friends on board?†asks McGregor. Terry starts to introduce Vincent, when the young man suddenly grabs Terry’s arm, hard.

 

Terry moves as if to grab and twist Vincent’s hand. Even Ryu, in the van, begins to reach for the knife in his belt at the sudden action. Berkmann, who was holding out his hand to Vincent, sees no violence, but instead sudden fear in the kid’s face, and turns to stare in the same direction as Vincent, saying, “What is it, son?â€

 

Everyone turns to look down the dockside, and it only takes a moment for everyone to see the early ‘90s model Mercedes about a quarter mile away. One tall man, muscular in his t-shirt with military cut blonde hair, leans on the hood of the car, watching the group. Another man gets out of the car, shorter, but similar in build and looks. Vincent starts muttering in Russian, which Berkmann understands as “They have found me again! How?†Then, “They come for me…†in halting English, looking at the other desperately.

 

The group moves into the van, McGregor sobering up and pulling away, even while they question Vincent. “They are from army…†he says. “From Chechnya… look for me much times!†Terry watches as one of the Russian’s pulls a small pair of binoculars to get a better look at the van as it pulls away.

 

Vincent is quite afraid, and continues speaking only in Russian. Berkmann, being and expert linguist, understands his ramblings, and from the front of the now very crowded van, asks in fluent Russian, “Who are these men, and why are they trying to find you?†Immediately Vincent snaps his eyes toward Martin, terrified, and shuts up completely. Berkmann is surprised by the reaction, noting that the boy is reacting to him as he would a terrifying authority figure. He backs down, letting Terry try to talk to Vincent. During the ride home, though, he is less than forthcoming.

 

McGregor makes good time out of the docks and maze of warehouses and container stacks. He is back on the road to Manila, and there is no sign of pursuit for the entire drive back to the city. Once into the crowded downtown area, he drops the rest off a few blocks from the hotel, and then drives to the agency where he can drop off the rental van. In chatting up the clerk (very happy that 75% or more of the Filipino population speaks English) he is able to slip her some money in order to get his paperwork out of the files… just in case anyone might check up on them.

 

Back at the hotel, Vincent finally tells his story. He speaks of being in Chechnya, cursing the army and obviously bitter and angry. “All my friends die… everyone killed… exploded… is to me to get out and get home. Chechens have better weapons than Russian army!†he practically yells. The group asks if he went AWOL, and he shakes his head. “Nyet… no! I got discharge… by those men. Other soldiers…†he mutters the word for veterans in Russian. “They are Spetznas… Razvedchiki (Recon Scout Specialists). They got discharge for me…†and he hesitates, looking away. “If I take something… package… back to Moscow.†The entire room nods in sudden understanding.

“Drugs?†asks Ryu?

“Opium,†says Terry and Vincent at the same time.

 

Jones says, “So if you delivered their package for them, why are they looking for you?†Vincent just stares at him, still surprised when Jones speaks since the young Russian obviously doesn’t notice him most of the time. “You didn’t deliver it, did you?†asks Terry. “You sold it on the side.†The room becomes tense and grim then, hard stares from all toward Vincent.

 

“Nyet, nyet… no!†he says, looking panicked. “I no sell… I…†he looks around, and then his face get angry. “I threw it in sea… threw away! I see what drugs do… kill everyone at home like in Chechnya! I threw away!†Everyone just looks at him, surprised as they realize he’s telling the truth.

 

McGregor has returned, walking in on this, and asks, “Just how MUCH opium did you throw away?â€

 

“Not many,†says Vincent, and holds out his arms about a meter apart, then gesturing to show about half a meter thick and high. Ryu gasps, Terry says, “Oh my god!†and Berkmann’s eyes just go wide. “Just a duffel… two duffels,†continues Vincent, repeating the hand movement.

 

“SPPPFFFFFTTT!!†chokes McGregor, spitting his beer at that. “Christ! That might explain why they are so persistent!†Vincent just looks at the group in innocence, as they begin jabbering about the likely millions of dollars those drugs were worth.

 

(Whew... 10 hours of drywallling my basement... so still more to be written later.)

[James Gillen]

Is Vincent a new PC?

 

JG

[Nuadha]

No. Vincent is an NPC..... who Jones is pretty sure is going to get us in a whole mess of new troubles.

[RDU Neil]

SW - BK 2 - Ep 1 cont'd

 

After Vincent’s revelation, the entire group begins to discuss options. Berkmann is the only one who has any real contacts in the Philippines, and he tells Terry that he has a doctor’s appointment set up for him this very day. Owens is a bit frazzled at this point and asks if the doc can postpone it for a day or so. McGregor comments that he is confident that no one followed the group back from the docks, and then asks what they are going to do with Vincent? There are a lot of shrugs and looks, but no one has a definitive plan. Terry then says to Jones, “Go to a recon, would you? See if any tall blonde Russians are scoping the hotel. They’ll never see you, right?â€

 

“Yeah, no problem,†replies Jones and heads downstairs. Out in the steaming streets, Jones walks the crowded blocks looking for anyone who might be watching the hotel. He sees no one resembling the Russians, or otherwise looking suspicious, so he stops to pick up a stack of bootleg Anime from a street vendor. Realizing he’s been gone a little to long he starts to hurry back. At the front entrance to the hotel, his eye is caught by a black rickshaw parked across the street. Unlike most of the bicycle rickshaws pedaled by teenagers, this one is older and more ornate. Nearly a full carriage, with a beaded cover over the passenger, and pulled by a tall, muscular runner, not a bike. Jones stops and turns around, staring at the rickshaw. The beads part, pushed aside by female fingers to reveal a shadowed silhouette, feminine with long hair, that seems to look right at him. Jones can see no facial figures, but he just knows the woman is somehow looking right at him. He squints and stares, trying to get a better look, when a hand taps him on the shoulder.

 

“Are you alright sir?†asks the doorman, in his simple black suit. “Everything ok?†Jones turns to him, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “Uh… yes… fine,†he says. “I was just look…â€

 

As Jones turns back to the rickshaw, there is nothing there, nothing up or down the street even close to that style of carriage. As he steps around to look further, he feels his clothes, sweat soaked and clinging to his skin. Though he had been sweating, he is now drenched in sweat, soaked almost completely through, and his eyes hurt. He almost drops his boxes of anime DVDs, his arms are so slick, and he sees the doorman looking at him curiously. “You were standing there for some time, sir,†says the doorman, and Jones glances at his watch. Almost ten till five. That can’t be right. It was only 4:30 when he started to go back inside the hotel. That was twenty minutes ago… Jones looks around the street again, hoping for a sight of the phantom rickshaw, and then runs back inside, a strange chill running down his spine even in the heat.

 

Back inside, Terry was beginning to become worried about Jones, when he shows up again. The others are discussing what to do for the evening, as no one wants to stay cooped up in the hotel room. Even Dr. Cole says she wants to go out. “Since every is here, I want to go dancing!†she says. McGregor is all for it, but Doctor Berkmann is more cautious. He doesn’t want to set up a pattern of behavior by going back to the same bar, but McGregor wants to build some good will and make some contacts, and that takes regular visits. When Jones tells everyone about the black rickshaw, Berkmann is even more reluctant. “Look… ex-Russian special forces looking for us and now strange, disappearing rickshaws. We need to be smart about this!â€

 

He gives up quickly, as he recognizes that the others, while not reckless, are not in the mood to play it safe. Within a few hours, they are back at Club Credo, buried in the thump, thump, thump of dance music and flashing lights. Despite Ryu’s detached stoicism and Berkmann’s studied concern, the rest of the group relaxes and cuts loose. McGregor moves up and down the bar, buying drinks and chatting with the locals. He is completely at ease in this situation, and two or three different women move with him on his arm as he goes, though he makes little play for them. Terry comfortably sits back and drinks beer, stripped down to his sailor’s tank top in the heat. From half closed eyes, he watches Dr. Cole on the dance floor, when he isn’t laughing it up with McGregor. Vincent follows him around the bar, tense at first, but finally enjoying the environement and attention from the ladies. Even Jones manages to get some attention, and at one point, has three different young women all flirting with him. Things seem to be going well, until one asks where he is staying. He instantly thinks better than to give out the hotel, but his hesitancy makes the other girls question him more. Flustered, he goes over to Berkmann, who he has seen chatting with women with ease. “What do I tell them?†he asks. “We need a hotel that we can actually take someone back to, you know!â€

 

“Don’t worry Jones,†says Ryu from next to Berkmann. “They are already gone.†Jones turns around to see the three women vanish into the crowd, and he let’s out a plaintive, “Nooo! No way! They liked me! Don’t you get it! Women were actually hitting on me!†His heartbreak is real enough, but Berkmann just shakes his head. He has been watching the women about him, over the past few days, and has realized something about them. All of them, especially the ones flirting with him and Terry and McGregor and Jones… they are just looking for money. All of them, in a natural and undisguised way, are here to find an American who has money. It is what they do. It is so plain to him, once he really decided to pay attention, that it robs him of any enjoyment of the evening. Quietly he breaks the news to Jones, who says, “No… really? They wouldn’t do that… All of them? Really?†The idea deflates Jones as well, and he joins the brooding Ryu at the table, sipping a beer alone.

 

During this time, McGregor has struck up a conversation with the bartender. He and Terry, a little bored, and a little interested in seeing what they can stir up… are looking for a fight. They had been scoping out the local talent, mostly stylishly dressed young Filipino’s trying to look like American hip-hop types. They even debate whether Vincent, with his size and stature, would make a good fighter. Finally they decide to go with what they know. “Mr. Tsang!†says Joe, already learning the bartender’s name. “I’m sure you are one who knows the real hot spots.†McGregor gestures for Terry to come up, looking ripped and rough. “My friend and I are looking for the fights… some good gambling. I hear that Manila is a hotbed for that kind of thing!†He flashes a winning smile, and makes his pitch.

 

It takes a while. Mr. Tsang isn’t sure if McGregor is for real, and he looks at Terry like he’s seen plenty of tough guys come and go in his time. He finally gets McGregor to agree to a $1000 fee, showing he is serious. Tsang says he’ll make some calls, and has McGregor and Terry wait. A half hour later, one of the waitresses comes by the table with an address. She only gives it to McGregor after he tips her the full grand, and then Damien crows “Whoo Hoo! We are in business.â€

 

When Terry calls Dr. Cole over to tell them what they are doing, she goes ballistic. “Are you crazy! You think this is good idea! I’ve seen this kind of thing before. People get crippled or killed!â€

 

“I heal fast, doc,†says Terry, but she won’t be dissuaded. They try to get her to stay and relax, but she insists on going with them. “I’m supposed to help you guys stay alive, and since I can’t stop you, I’m going with you!†The entire group leaves then, and goes back to the hotel for the doctor to get her bag. Jones is depressed at being dumped by girls who only wanted his money and a trip to America, and goes back to his computer for the night. The group leave him there, and head out, piling into a cab.

 

Once the cabbie sees the address, he says, “You pay up front!†and won’t move until he gets the cash. Once paid, he takes the group north west, to Quezon City. Specifically he goes to an industrial center in the Novaliches district, near the La Mesa Dam. The cabbie drops the group and heads off quickly. The group approaches a darkened door way and knocks. It is answered by a squat fireplug of a man, barely over five feet tall, but practically that wide. Massively ripped shoulders and pecks show in a skimpy tank top under a slab of a head with flattened nose and black eyes. He glares up at the group with malice, backlit by raw lights and washed in crowd noise that spills out into the quiet night from inside the building. McGregor give him the note from Mr. Tsang, which gets a grunt, and the guy looks Damien up and down, frowns, then looks at the rest, Vincent first, but his eyes settling on Terry. He gives him the once over, then looking away in disgust.

 

McGregor tries some banter and fails, Terry having locked eyes with the fierce little man. The bouncer then says, “You want to fight. Fight me first!†Terry shrugs, and the man moves like an attack dog. He comes, his fist thrusting upward into Terry’s stomach, and he takes the blow with a grunt, and lowers his own head, cracking the smaller man in the forehead, staggering him back. Terry just grins into the even angrier face, and the squat man goes for a low tackle. Terry sweeps him hard to the side, turning to face the next attack, when McGregor steps in between shouting down, “Ok enough! Any more, you gotta pay to see it!†This stops the fight, but the bouncer glares at McGregor and says, “You pay first. One thousand American. Entrance fee.†McGregor knows he is being taken, but knows he has to pay, and forks over the money. “Your money,†says the little man, then points at Terry. “Your life.†Then he stomps back inside leaving them little choice but to follow.

 

(more later)

[Nuadha]

Just a quick note for everyone: I needed to leave early that night, so that's the out of game reason why Jones decided to go home. It just worked out nice that he had a good reason to leave.

[RDU Neil]

SW - BK 2 - Ep 1 finish

 

Inside the large dock and warehouse, a small fight ring has been created. A fifty by fifty foot square has been created by four sets of rickety bleachers, one on each face. The group moves cautiously forward to a space between bleachers, to see the fight floor itself. Tatami mats have been layed down, and a few inches of sawdust on top of that the only thing that comes between the fighters and the concrete. The room is full of mostly Filipino men, some with girlfriends, all shouting and cheering the two current fighters who are engaged in a swai jao style wrestling match. Everything smells of sour sweat and piss mixed with beer and adrenaline. To McGregor it is like coming home. Dr. Cole just mutters, “Christ…†as she looks around, then wincing as she sees one wrestler slammed hard into the unforgiving ground. “Idiot men…†she continues, but it is the extent of her protest.

 

The stocky bouncer walks over and begins talking with his opposite, a tall, rail thin man in a loose white shirt standing next to a table. At the table are two bikini clad young women with ticket stubs and cash machines, taking bets and payments with rapidity and studied disinterest. After a minute of arguing, the skinny man walks over to the group and then points under the west side bleachers. “You go in there. Get ready. You want to fight?†he says, looking off glance at Terry. “Ok.†Then he repeats what his partner had said, “Your money†he says to McGregor. “Your life,†he says to Terry… shrugs and walks back.

 

Terry strips into his bare feet, shorts and tank, and begins warming up, shadow boxing and rolling his arms to stretch. He does nothing with his feet, mererely working his upper body in a classic boxer’s style. Dr. Cole just watches, pensively, as McGregor begins to scout out the opposition. As the current fight ends, he crosses the ring to the opposite bleachers, looking for other fighters. Peering around, he sees Skinny talking to another man. This one is clearly a fighter. Chinese, likely, taller than most of the Filipinos except Skinny, he is built with that tight musculature and zero body fat that only a professional athlete can muster. He has some bulk to him, but nothing like Terry. As Skinny talks, McGregor watches as the man pinwheels his arms and drops into an exquisite Dragon Sweeps Down stance, perfectly balanced on the ball of his right foot, left foot extended, still as water two inches off the ground. Then he flows back upward into a reverse cat stance, arms waving into stillness with the hands in tiger claw. All the while he stretches, the fighter’s eyes remain detached and calm. Damien can see that this is no mere stylist… but someone who can use the martial in the art.

 

Then McGregor feels a hand on his belt, hauling him back. He spins to face the growling bouncer, who thumbs back toward Terry’s pit. “Get back to your side,†he snarls.

 

â€Just checking out the competition!†says Damien with a smile, but his charm is lost on the angry man. “Not allowed. Get back!†is the only reply, and Damien shrugs, returning to tell Terry what he saw.

 

Meanwhile, Berkmann has decided to take advantage of the situation. He knows that bets are going to be placed, and in fact the others have placed the remaining of their cash on Terry… all except Ryu, who decides to bet on the opposition as a cover. Shuffling up to a seat, playing up the old man routine to the hilt, Berkmann decides to give the crowd a nudge. As word spreads that a foreign challenger… and white man… is going to fight, bets start to fly. Berkmann, sitting near a group of loud business men, starts talking outloud in an noisy American kind of way. “Can’t believe this boy. You’d think he has a death wish. Goin’ around trying to fight. His doctor bills are getting out of hand!†Berkmann’s abilities to read the crowd helps him act in a manner perfectly expected by them. He’s the crotchety old man with a young buck fighter trying to prove himself, but at the same time, those around him sense honest concern that the white fighter has bitten off way more than he can chew.

 

It is a masterful performance, and in the fifteen minutes leading up to the fight, Berkmann’s influence spreads around the room to such an extent that Terry moves from a 3 to 1 odds against to almost 10 to one. Few people are betting on him. They’ve seen challengers before, and a lot of them have left on a board. Berkmann just uses this. If Terry does win, the payoff will be three times more than regular odds would have allowed.

 

Finally, Skinny walks into the ring, and makes a short announcement. He gestures toward Terry, who has shuffled out to the ring, and simply says, “The challenger!†after a few words in Filipino… a tagalog dialect none of the others speak. Then, in a dramtically rising voice, Skinny announces the house fighter. When the lean, Chinese fighter moves into view, the crowd cheers, and he acknowledges them with a courteous bow, his feet walking gracefully through the sawdust. “Bao Bao Bang!†shouts skinny, giving the fighter’s name, and the crowd grows even louder. The two fighters acknowledge each other with small bows. Then the massive bouncer walks into the ring, gives an unceremonious grunt, snapping his fist closed, and the fight is on.

 

Terry shuffles forward, maintaining his boxer’s stance. He watches as Bao Bao Bang moves up in a side-to-side swaying motion. Then Bao hops, both feet coming off the ground as if to double kick, but the feet don’t come forward, and instead Bao’s fist strikes in a straight out thrust, powered by the sudden torque of his midsection. Terry barely manages to slap the blow past his face, then shifts into a more forward combat stance, losing the boxing style completely, and drives his knee upward, trying to pull Bao’s face into it. Bang barely manages to roll around the leg and pull to his left, his dead eyes firing in surprise over Terry’s speed.

 

Terry follows up, staying close to the wiry Chinese youth, attempting to grapple. Bao is slippery and almost manages to slough off Terry, until the big man’s left hand gets a solid grip beneath the deltoid, and Terry falls over backward, putting both himself and Bao into the dust. Bao, hits and rolls, coming up even more shocked and surprised at his opponents speed and strength… backing off for a moment in assessment… lips tight with determination.

 

Then Bao attacks. Fast, hard, moving through the Brit’s fists, and striking with an underarm curl that turns into a knife hand aimed right at Terry’s solar plexus. Hitting two inches to the right, Bao still manages to put his rigid fingers into and through Terry’s lower ribs. The wet crunch of breaking bones is evident, even over the crowd noise, and Terry can feel the fingers punch into his chest, actually hitting his lower lung and forcing the air out in a painful stab. Such a blow would have incapacitated most normal men, but Terry just hisses in pain.

 

“It’s gonna be that way, eh?†mutters Terry through teeth clenched in agony, and pulls Bao in close by the neck with his right hand, chest pressed to Bang’s shoulder to keep off the block, and bending the man down so his back is exposed to Terry’s hammering left fist which comes down… one, two three times!… into Bao’s kidney. The Chinese fighter makes a “Ghaaarr†sound, but doesn’t go down… instead his right arm snakes up and out, clawed fingers flashing at Terry’s throat before Terry grabs the wrist and shoves the attack away. The two fighters break for a half second, both shoving off each other and the crowd goes nuts as each man can be seen to wince a limp now, blood dripping down Terry’s stomach.

 

Owens’ doesn’t let up. Going after the smaller man, he comes in with fists like pistons. “Stick and jab, stick and jab†he is muttering under his breath… literally trying to beat the man down. His first blows are blocked, and then Bao tries to fake him out, coming up with a snake strike to the face, but really snapping out a kick to Terry’s knee, which the Brit easily takes and shoves to the side with his thigh. A rapid series of strikes and blocks follow, with the two men trading back and forth without landing any significant impact. Bao’s more liquid style countered by Terry’s economic brutality.

 

Then Terry nearly takes Bao’s head off with a massive left roundhouse. Only taking the blow solidly on his hand keeps Bao’s throat from being crushed, but Bao’s knuckles and fingers and bent and twisted by the blow. Terry just becomes a bludgeon. His fists ram out ward, then swing in round houses. Bao tries to fight through the pummeling, but the blows drive his own forearm and upper arm into his body knocking him sideways, the impact going through his whole body.

 

All sense of style leave’s Bao Bao Bang at that point, and he comes back, punching through Terry’s blows, going force on force which puts Terry back on his heels just enough that Bao can swing a snap kick up into an axe kick that comes down hard on Terry’s clavicle. The blow nearly drives Owens’ to his knees, and he barely manages to get his arms up to take the follow up, bone bruising blows, there. Bao goes all out to finish his opponent, each man’s ragged breathing indistinct from the growls of animals.

 

And then it ends. The rapid offensive proves to be Bao’s undoing. Terry is still faster than he looks. As Bao leaps up to bring a battering fist on to Owens’ skull, Terry’s own right comes up in a massive uppercut directly into Bao’s floating rib. The little man is suspended in the air, folded around Terry’s fist. His gurgle of lost air floats outward as the crowd goes quiet for a split second… and then as Bao hits the sawdust in a heap… everyone goes wild!

 

Terry stands for a moment, gasping for breath, looking down at his opponent twitching and clutching his stomach. The fight took less than two minutes total. Then Owens staggers over to a nearby onlooker… a middle aged Filipino man… and grabs the man’s beer from his hand and drinks it. The crowd gasps, then everyone cheers again, the man and his friends laugh and pound Terry on the back and shoulders. “Good fight!†is about the only thing Terry hears, making his way back to Bao on the ground, and trying to give the man a drink as best he can. Then Dr. Cole comes running into the ring with her bag, pushing Terry on to a bench, and cursing at him as she checks his wound.

 

With all eyes on Terry, Ryu slips quietly from the stands by Berkmann, and comes up next to Bao Bao Bang, who is struggling to sit up. Without a word, he places his hands on the man’s lower back, and then presses his finger stiffly into a series of pressure spots. Bao gasps, as his tortured muscles relax, and he looks at Ryu, nodding… understanding what Ryu is doing. Ryu holds a stiff thumb against a spot on Bao’s stomach, opposite his damaged kidney, and Bao feels the pain lesson, diminishing to a much more manageable level. Then Ryu simply nods, and helps the fighter to his feet, then turns and walks away.

 

In the aftermath, McGregor approaches the betting table. He knows that the money flowing through here is small time, but he wants to see how they handle this. From the tentative looks of the female cashiers, he’s pretty sure they haven’t lost this much money in a long time. Skinny looks over their shoulders as they calculate, his face going still and eyes wide. Fireplug waddles over, his face even more contorted in anger than before. The veins on his muscular arms look ready to tear out of his skin. Skinny chatters at him briefly, and then awaits his decision. McGregor just locks eyes with the man and waits. He can tell the dwarf would rather just tear him in two, but Damien can feel a lot of the eyes of the crowd on them, waiting to see what happens. He’s calculating that the pair can’t afford to lose face by welching on the bets.

 

His calculations pay off. Sparkplug finally waves a fist in resignation, and the girls begin shoveling worn stacks of American and Filipion bills into three large bags. Skinny moves off, trying to usher the crowd out of the building, closing up for the night, but as the group prepares to leave, McGregor comes up to him, having one of the bags of just Filipino money in his hands. “Keep this. A down payment. You and I should talk. I’ve done this business. We could work together.†Skinny looks at him, the money, then at Terry and then at the big, young Russian, Vincent. A sly look comes into his eyes.

 

“Maybe you have two fighters?†asks Skinny? “One fighter fights first…†he nods at Vincent. “THEN your British man?†McGregor nods, getting his drift immediately. “Give me a number to contact you. We might work something out.†And with that, the group heads back out on to the street to try and find a cab.

 

“So, the guy wants Vincent to fight?†asks Terry. “I think we’d have to really convince him.â€

 

“Worse,†says McGregor. “We’d have to convince him to lose.â€

 

End of Book 2 – Episode 1

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 1 The GBH

 

The Good:

 

The evening started with all five players talking of RPG theory such as the GNS model, as well as a more general “What do you want out of this campaign?†discussion. It was a really good discussion that has continued all week, giving me as the GM some important insights. It clarified some group dynamics going on, as well as giving me a better handle on what the players are looking for to enjoy the game.

 

The Bad:

This episode was GM'd from the experiment of just allowing the players to "do stuff" to see what they would do. Not a ton of pressure from the GM. Unfortunately, it made things a little chaotic, and I felt there was a total lack of focus in the session. Also, I wasn't able to respond to the Ferrett/Berkmann in the way the player wanted, because while he was really building the character, I was unclear on what he was trying to do. More could have come out of this if I'd handled that better.

 

The Ugly:

This game has created a lot of "metagame" discussion on theory and GM/player dynamics and basic "what do the player's want" kind of thing. Unfortunately it is causing some players to want to just dump their current characters, just when I, as GM, am really figuring out stories for them. I was hoping to inspire some more player involvement, but it may have caused more problems than it solved. We'll see.

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 1 download

 

Here is the text file for downloading the most recent write up.

[Speedball]

Wow. I'm beginning to think that the write-ups have got to be at least as much, if not more, work than planning and running the game!

 

In any case, I thougth the fight scene was one of the most eloquently described combats I've seen in gaming. Masterful.

 

I am, in my ego-centric little way, beginning to think you're posting these recaps just to make me jealous.

 

Kudos to the players, too, who seem to really be embracing the spirit and feel of the game.

 

Keep 'em coming!

[RDU Neil]

Originally posted by Speedball

 

In any case, I thougth the fight scene was one of the most eloquently described combats I've seen in gaming. Masterful.

 

Keep 'em coming!

 

Thanks Geoff. I appreciate it. I purposefully wrote up the combat as the very first thing last week, so I didn't forget details. I then went back and wrote all the set-up stuff, then inserted the combat description where it fell.

 

Yeah, these write ups are a lot of work... but surprisingly they are very satisfying on my end... especially when folks like you dig 'em. It's like all the work to run the game is not ephemeral. It has some lasting element outside the player's memories.

 

Now, when I write up last night's adventure, you let me know if you still like the story, 'cause it took things in a whole new direction.

 

SW - Bk 2 - Ep2 - Things Get Weird

[Speedball]

"When things get weird, the weird turn pro" --Hunter S. Thompson

 

I don't know exactly what he meant by it, but it seems apt.

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 2

 

Episode 2 – Strange Things

 

Only had four of five players:

Eric “Bonhed†Hurst as Hitoshi Ryu

Joe Convery as Damien McGregor

The Storn Cook as Terry Owens

James “Nuahda†Arnoldi as Mr. Jones

 

Without Berkmann, around which I’d planned to run the adventure, I had to ad lib. That’s when things got weird. (I took a few liberties with the opening, as it was mostly a large group discussion that slipped OOC quite a bit… so I’m tweaking it to add the descriptive and narrative elements.)

 

Intro

 

The day after the pit fight, everyone rises late, groggy for most, hurting for some. Dr. Cole steps out of bed to the quiet, thinking herself the first awake, but then notices that Ryu is not in bed. A quick glance confirms that he is already on the balcony, meditating in lotus position. She watches him as she makes coffee, thinking about what he is able to do. She can’t quantify it, but whatever he calls it, “Aligning his chi†or what have you, she can’t deny the effects. His wounds have healed at an amazing rate, with little scar accumulation that would limit mobility over time.

 

As the smell of coffee fills the common room, Cole checks on the others. She finds Jones crumpled in front of the flickering screen of his computer, never having made it three feet to his bed. Then she crosses to the connected rooms of Berkmann, McGregor and Owens. Berkmann snores loudly, and she meets McGregor as he comes out in just his shorts, carrying his sword. “Morning,†he says, then notices her looking at the weapon. “Just practice,†he says, mumbles thanks for the coffee as he grabs a cup to sip, then heads up to the roof.

 

Finally, she looks in on Terry. The soldier lies asleep, his bandages still tight around his ribs. There is a spot of blood that has seeped through, but less than she would have expected. Carol just shakes her head. Can’t say that Stang didn’t promise her the unexpected and strange, but she never thought it would be playing den mother to this bizarre collecting of criminals, killers & crazy geniuses. Suddenly remembering their latest acquisition, she glances around until she finds the large Russian, Vincent, sleeping with just a pillow and a couch cushion in the bathroom. “We need a bigger place,†she thinks, and just shakes her head again, waiting to see what the day will bring.

 

----------

 

When the group finally awakens, the focus of the day becomes a discussion of logistics. Realizing they may be in the Philippines for some time, they realize the need to move to amore stable and secure location and begin stocking up on the necessities of life. Berkmann has a compound, an old abandoned hotel on the isle of Negros, where he has retired at times. It is puddle jump south from Manila… but it isn’t set up to handle six or seven long term residents. Immediately a list begins to grow of everything from mattresses and clothing to food to computer equipment, weapons and other supplies. To fund these purchases, the group begins to tap into some numbered accounts left to them by Stang which together total nearly two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Money is not an immediate issue, though there is no replenishment. If necessary, Terry, McGregor and Jones have funds of their own.

 

As the shopping list grows, the group realizes it will need a way to transport it, so McGregor is sent out to find a good, used Range Rover… and perhaps a boat to rent or buy. Such transportation would be more useful for hauling a large amount of supplies. Terry spends a good deal of time on the phone. Having worked out of Hong Kong for the last few years, he had contacts there. One in particular, a “fixer†by the name of Ellie Liu should be able to point him in the direction of local suppliers of reliable hardware. This involves a number of calls from disposable cells and various land lines, in the end, is left waiting for a return call.

 

Jones spends the day running down multiple products available on line, including ballistic vests, electronic surveillance and security equipment, two way radios, and specialty clothing. While online, he does some research of the Ginza district of Tokyo, finding an address, maps, and images. He sets himself up a false apartment address not far from that area, and orders a plush toy, and strange goth anime figure unique to the Japanese market, and has it sent to Sangre Eterna in California. He also sends her an e-mail, explaining that he is working on a project in Tokyo, and will be there for some weeks. He routes it through a number of nodes in Tokyo to hide it’s true origin, then sings off and heads out to establish a couple of Post Office boxes for receiving the goods.

 

Ryu goes out as well, “To scrounge,†he says, adding cryptically, “You may find many useful items in a simple, discarded VCR.â€

 

While walking to the post office, Jones’ Sidekick buzzes, and he quickly grabs it off his belt, hoping it is from Beth. Instead he sees the call sign of Gamecat.

 

From: Gamecat

To: Ghost

Subject: Prickly thorns

 

Lose this little box, my boy. The roots of the black flower are growing in the node. Don’t prick your finger… they can scent the blood.

 

PS: (The plush, so sweet… like candy and hugs.)

 

AWAY WITH IT NOW!

 

Gamecat

 

Jones doesn’t even question what (or how) exactly Gamecat knows what he knows. With trepidation, he simply shuts the machine off, then looks for a passing car. As a taxi whizzes down the street, Jones arcs the electronic device into it’s path. It cracks on the pavement, and then is shattered into a thousand pieces by the speeding tires. Jones winces involuntarily and hurries down the street, paranoid now. His conversation with the post office clerk is hurried and abrupt, but he manages to secure the post office box and get back to the hotel without anything further happening. There, he immediately begins unplugging any external contacts he’d made, splicing into the hotel data lines, then begins running full fledged diagnostics, looking for any and all sleeper virus or tracer bugs that might have been downloaded. His Sidekick was a separate system, but you can’t be to sure.

 

Terry just shrugs at Jones’ frantic behavior, and Ryu returns, carrying a bag full of seeming junk, and quietly goes into his room. Then he walks off, trying to avoid Berkmann. Ever since Terry canceled the meeting with Doctor Pruto, Berkmann has been trying to catalogue the ex-soldiers behavior. As Terry’s wound has already closed, scar tissue beginning to form days ahead of schedule, Berkmann has been following him around asking to take pictures every hour, to document the rapid healing. This gains many nervous looks from Vincent, and ribald comments from the others.

 

In the evening, McGregor staggers back to the hotel, soaked through and grumpy. He’d left, sure that he could easily shmooze and con his way into avoiding having to pay anything for a Range Rover (and wanting to buy American, anyway.) He was disappointed on both fronts. The car dealers, new and used, were all way too honest and savvy to fall for his fast talking… and damn if American cars weren’t three times more expensive here than the states. A Mercedes or Range Rover was much more affordable, and easy to come by… so McGregor returned empty handed, much to the jibes of the others and his own chagrin.

 

By evening, everyone is back, and an impromptu poker game breaks out during dinner. It lasts well into the evening, with McGregor getting some revenge… Every one participates, though Ryu spends a good deal of time cleaning and checking three back alley pistols he picked up. An old Berretta and a couple of .357 snub noses. One use guns at best, but until Terry gets a contact for better weapons, it is about the best they can do. The group otherwise just plays cards, drinks beer, and quietly appreciates at least one day where little or nothing actually happened.

 

Things were unlikely to stay that quiet.

 

(More later)

[Nuadha]

Great stuff, Neil! I swear that your descriptive skills is getting better and better with each post. Each one reads more like professional fiction that the last. The prologue with Dr. Cole was especially cool.

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 2 continued

 

The next day begins with the same quiet pace, but this time McGregor hauls Vincent up to the roof for some training. “We started to make some contacts with our fight,†he says by way of explanation. “If we want to keep that up, I’m going to need some fighters.†It’s not clear if Vincent is quite aware of exactly what Damien expects of him, but the youth is big and strong and has basic training. Best of all, he follows orders well.

Back in the common room, Owens’ cell phone rings.

 

Cut Scene: A large private yacht sits at anchor on blue waters. Sunshine reflects off the white hull as the camera pans in on the rear deck. There, under a canopy, stretched out on a massage table, is a striking Asian woman in her thirties. Her long black hair tied up in a bun, she lies on her chest while a male masseuse works on her lower back with his hands. She shifts slightly, awkwardly holding her own phone to one ear, as Terry’s “’Ello,†comes through.

 

“Mr. Owens, so good of you to call. It has been at least a year,†says Ellie Liu. “You say you are looking for a merchant who is reliable. The Manila area. I believe I know someone, though I do hate to send a good client to a competitor, it is the least I can do… for a 15% commission of course. His name is Tazag. Call him at the following number. Leave my name as reference. He will eventually call you back.†She gives Terry the number, and then flips the phone closed, laying back down to enjoy the rest of her massage.

 

Terry calls the number for Tazag, leaves a message and hangs up, settling in to wait out the day. He ignores or obliges Berkmann’s scientific poking and prodding, while the others go about their own business. At one point, Jones comes out of his bedroom with his computers, placing them back in boxes, packing up. “I may have been traced by Briar Rose. I couldn’t find any sign of them, but I know they hacked my independent Sidekick. As a precaution, I suggest we move hotels.†This elicits groans, but agreement from all, just to be safe. Berkmann decides to make the call to his contact, Mr. Buykaykay. “It seems we will be arriving within a few days, my friend. I will have guests this time,†says the doctor.

 

After about two hours, Terry finally gets a return call. “Mr. Owens, this is Tazag. You come well recommended. I would be happy to do business with you. Will this be a large or small order?†Terry thinks about it for a moment. “I guess I’m looking at the needs of a well equipped fire team.†He finally says.

 

“Ahh,†replies Tazag with satisfaction. “Easily managed, and well worth your time and mine. I am in Lucena. It is a bit of a drive from Manila, but a lovely town to visit. We are on the southern coast. I assume you will have sizable transportation?â€

 

Terry looks over at McGregor, who is just coming out, drying his hair from the shower. “Oh, we’ll find a vehicle,†he says extra loudly, with a growl. “Shouldn’t be a problem,†he says, mimicking McGregor’s comment the day before. Tazag give a street and address and says, “It is a two hour drive, so any time after ten this evening,†then he hangs up.

 

Everyone busies themselves with packing up, and reservations are made at a hotel closer to the main airport. McGregor rents two vehicles, including one Range Rover. Berkmann, Dr. Cole and Vincent take the van, loaded with gear and luggage, leaving the other four to head down to Lucena in the SUV. “It is a fishing village become large town,†says Berkmann. “If nothing else, you may be able to find us a boat to take us across the Sibuyan Sea to Negros.†There are some comments about piracy, and the issue of Muslim rebels in the south islands, but Berkmann assures them, “The pirates are out in the South China Sea, not in the inner areas of the Philippines. The rebels are mostly on Mindanao, the southern main island. There is nothing for them on Negros.â€

 

The drive down to Lucena is uneventful. Outside the cities, much of the land has been stripped of jungle, and hillsides are covered in terraced rice paddies and other fields. Large stretches of the drive are a two lane road without streetlights, but it is actually pleasant as evening turns to night, and McGregor tears along at a controlled breakneck pace. Coming into the town, the harbor can be seen stretching along the southern coast. Hundreds of private fishing boats, junks, tugs and merchant vessels are anchored in the bay. McGregor slows down as he comes into the small, tight roads of the village. The outer shops and homes dark and quiet. It is night, and many of these people are farmers, in bed early before another long day. The harbor is still alive, though, and can be seen in glimpses where the road opens for a moment, and the Range Rover picks its way down the hillside through town.

 

It takes over an hour for the quartet to find the road designated by Tazag. Without street signs they rely on the directions of locals, but as the night nears 11 pm, the Range Rover moves slowly down a narrow, dark and quiet residential street. All the buildings are built right up against eachother, and the road is made even more narrow by the vehicles parked in the street. There are no address numbers, so all four men are peering about for some sign. They get it when they pass a parked car with a young man smoking a cigarette in the drivers seat. He locks eyes with Terry, riding shotgun to McGregor, as they pass within a foot of each other. After ten feet, Owens says “Stop!†and turns the side mirror with his hand to keep the man in sight. The Filipino gets out of the car slowly, hands in sight, looking at the Range Rover. Clear of his car, he calls to Terry, “What’s your name?†Owens is hesitant to respond, but gets out of the SUV slowly, saying, “What have you got for me.†The other doesn’t respond, but crushes out his cigarette and walks to an unmarked door of an indistinct house. He knocks.

 

“Keep the car running,†says Owens quietly, tensing.

 

The house door opens, spilling light into the darkness. The young man is met by an older, larger man in a billowing red shirt. He looks past the lookout, sees Terry standing there, and grins. “Come in Mr. Owens… bring your friends.†He waves his hand, beckoning. Ryu and Jones exit the vehicle as McGregor looks around for a parking space, and there are none to be had. With a shrug, he throws the vehicle into park and takes the keys, leaving the Range Rover double parked.

 

Ryu, McGregor and Jones follow Terry into the house. Inside they find that the normal rooms have been gutted, and the interior is more of a small warehouse. Boxes and crates are stacked about, shoved in corners and even laid across the rafters. “Welcome! I am Tazag!†says the large man in the red shirt. He gestures broadly again at all the cases. “For your shopping pleasure!â€

The four men find themselves in an armament smorgasbord. Long guns, automatic, semi-auto and bolt action, SMGs, pistols, and shotguns are in plentiful supply. There isd even a full mountable .50 caliber Berretta machine gun from the ‘60s, perfectly restored and kept, under a tarp in the back. Once again, as with vehicles, American models are less plentiful, but European, Russian (and old Soviet block), and Asian makes are everywhere. While Terry investigates the long guns and SMGs, the others focus on personal side arms. McGregor gets a Berretta 92F, and Ryu picks up mint Sig229, .40 Caliber, the control of 9mm with a heavier load for stopping power, threaded for a silencer.

 

After selecting three 5.56 assault rifles… that ammunition being lighter and more plentiful, Terry makes a joke about “Love a couple of SOCOMs†and Tazag’s eyes light up. He pulls up a full case of HK Mark 23, with silencer kits. Terry doesn’t hesitate, taking two. Jones has been watching, and takes one himself. The grip is wide, taking .45 caliber double stacked clips, and doesn’t fit his smaller hands, but a two handed grip more than compensates. The military grade silencer leaves only the sound of the slide when fired. “Good enough for Terry, good enough for me,†thinks Jones.

 

When the shopping spree if finally over, the Range Rover is loaded with crates of weapons, ammunition, cleaning kits and other supplies. McGregor has taken a spring-loaded baton, and both Terry and Ryu have Emerson Bullnose combat knives. Two sets of executive level body armor, light weight vests that go under shirts, and a new leather Benelli double shoulder holster round out the buy. The funds are transferred by laptop, from one numbered account to another, and Terry rounds off the amount up to a solid 25K. Tazag looks at him quizzically, and Terry responds, “Think of us as repeat customers who will be looking for your expert services in the future.†Tazag beams, and slaps Terry on the back. “For you, I will always be available. If you need it, just ask!â€

 

To this, McGregor replies, “Really. So what would you say about a Range Rover and a boat.†Tazag looks up, “Really?†McGregor confirms this, specifying a boat that can transport the vehicle and a lot of supplies. “If so, I can certainly arrange such. Return here tomorrow evening,†finishes Tazag. “Much pleasure in doing business with you.†He then directs the group to an inn for the night. “My wife’s cousin runs the place. Quite comfortable, and excellent food. It is called the Blue Lantern. On the main dock way. You can’t miss it! Many blue lanterns hanging all about. Just tell the deskman that Tazag sent you!â€

 

Nearing midnight, loaded for bear, the four men squeeze back into the packed Range Rover, and drive away. It was another day of successful preparations, without even a hint of threat.

 

Two minutes later, midnight would come and change all of that.

[RDU Neil]

SW - BK 2 - EP 2 - continued

 

(This scene was huge and a nightmare to write, so please be kind if you find it unintelligible. Trying to put a linear flow to a very surreal scene was hard to do. )

 

SW - BK 2 - EP 2

 

The directions had been simple. Follow the current road to the end, take a left, drive a mile until that road ends at the wharf. Another left and keep going until you see the Blue Lantern. McGregor drove at a steady pace, and it should have taken less than ten minutes.

 

Jones notices it first. Terry and McGregor were chatting, and Ryu was busy cleaning the packing grease off of his new gun. Jones just stared out the windows at the dark house fronts lining the streets. They all looked the same to him, and rose on both sides of the street blocking any sign of the docks farther on. The cars they pass on the side all seem old and dingy… dirty or something… no light seems to reflect from their chrome or glass.

 

Then he notices the complete absence of people. Yes, this part of town was quiet… but there is nobody here. Not a soul. In fact… Jones glances around, all the houses seem deserted. Before light would peak out from various windows and the cracks around doors. Even if closed off, the homes emanated that lived-in vibe. Now… and he looks around more… there is nothing. No light, no people… just shades of gray on black. “Uh guys… you notice how empty everything is?†he says out loud. The others immediately look around, and Damien says, “Hey, the docks are just up here, right?†The others don’t answer. Instead they look outside at the passing shadowy buildings and cards, and the strangeness begins to sink in.

 

“Heh,†laughs Jones quietly. “Just as long as we don’t see any black rickshaws…†as he glances over his shoulder.

 

At that exact moment, he sees that exact thing. The black rickshaw, indistinct runner pulling the canopied carriage behind him, and it moves perpendicular to the Range Rover, passing behind them on a cross street and disappears.

 

“Ok… crap! I just saw it! It was behind us!†McGregor nearly stops completely, and every looks back… and weird tension filling the car. “The rickshaw! The one I saw a couple days ago! It was there!†says Jones, his voice going up an octave as he strains to explain.

 

“I can take a look,†says Terry, cracking his door as if to get out. Almost immediately frigid air whistles into the cab. The warm moist air condenses immediately on Terry’s window, and the bite goes clear through his hand. He pulls the door shut in shock… watching the condensation start to spider web in spreading ice crystals on the glass by his head.

 

“That is not right,†says Ryu in a dead voice. “It is never that cold here.†His words are matter of fact, but his eyes dart around the street.

 

“We are outta here,†says McGregor, and then slams the Range Rover into drive and putting his foot down. The SUV accelerates quickly and darts down the street. Cars flash past on both sides as Damien pushes sixty. In front of them, only darkness and the narrow confines of the road can be seen. “What the hell…†mutters McGregor as he drives. As the drive, Terry suddenly begins talking, his voice twisted in a poor imitation of a famous line, “Imagine if you will, four men, driving late at night. They are not far from their destination when they take a left turn… not onto a normal city street, but instead a left turn… into the Twilight Zone.â€

 

The others look over at the uncharacteristic humor from Owens, and see his mouth twitch in a nervous smile. His eyes are a bit wild and staring.

 

Terry watches the cars going past… something… something is… repeating. That old Chevy, then the rusted lorry… and the delivery van… Chevy, lorry, van… Chevy, lorry, van… the same cars flick past, faster and faster as McGregor accelerates. In front of them, nothing changes… Chevy, lorry, van… they just keep coming.

 

“Stop this fucking crate now!†barks Terry, and McGregor hits the brakes. As the Rover stops, Terry hits the door and is out on to the street, the bitter cold striking everyone afresh. His new pistols are out, one in each meaty fist, and he turns about, guns in front, scanning the road. Ryu and Jones follow… everyone’s breath frosting.

 

As the group scans for anything remotely alive and normal on the street, they babble back and forth… all by Ryu, who crouches defensively. Something… something is familiar to him.

 

In the cab, McGregor catches sight of something. In looking about for light or color, even the headlights seem to die only a few feet from the lamps. It is the rearview that snags his gaze. A flash of white, a color, a light, far behind them. He watches it for a second, almost immediately noting that the spot resolves into a figure… human, female… some distance behind them and walking toward them.

 

“Uh guys, behind us. D’you see that?†Everyone turns to look, but McGregor doesn’t take his eyes off the mirror. To Jones, Ryu and Terry there is nothing there. In the mirror, the woman is suddenly much closer, and Damien can see her clearly. She is naked, her olive skin glowing against the darkness around them all. Filipino in appearance, her face is perfection of symmetry. Big dark eyes flash with flecks of green, her cheekbones and chin elegant but not sharp… lustrous black hair spills about her. “She’s right there!†yells McGregor!

 

Terry leaps to the roof. Guns still out. He sees nothing. Ryu is directly to the rear of the car, and Jones to his right, crouched against the Rover. “Nothing, Damien! This is too fucking weird! McGregor! Try the radio… anything!†Inside the cab, Damien fumbles for the dial, still staring at the image in the mirror… he gets a click, but no sound but the faint hiss of battery power through the speakers.

 

Ryu suddenly remembers. This is familiar. It was the time of his last tests. In the cave in the Hokkaido mountain. A week alone, only water, no food… a time when he found himself becoming detached from himself… leaving his body and moving through worlds different than what was thought of as real. He straightens a bit, realizing that this feels the same. “I know this,†he says out loud. “There are worlds where the spirit walks free of the body,†he says, glancing up at Terry. Owens just looks down at him and mutters, “What the fuck are you talking about?†but Ryu turns his focus inward, reaching in and finding the core of his spirit and expanding it… his fingers move in intricate signs, and he feels his chi flood into him, warming him against the cold.

 

Then the woman speaks. To McGregor she says, “Will you save me?†Damien simply responds with “Wha…?â€

 

“Will you save me? Will you sacrifice for me?†she repeats, her eyes open and questioning, staring directly into McGregor’s through the mirror. Nodding, Damien responds, “I’ll do what I can? Sacrifice what?†his voice filled with confusion.

 

Jones, glancing into the cab, just sees Damien seeming to talk to the mirror, but sees nothing else… then his eye catches movement. Above… darkness on darkness, no stars in the sky, but something is up there… moving… down… fast… toward Terry. He starts to gasp out words…

 

… and it hits Owens from above. He never sees it, a hard blow, feeling like a man hitting him, hard on the thigh, driving him to the roof of the car. Jones blurts his warning then, a second to late, and Terry sees his compatriot raise the big pistol and point it above his head, toward whatever landed on his back. Owens twitches his face away as he watches the trigger pull expecting the blast and flame of the big bore pistol, but instead only hears the faint click of the hammer hitting, without effect.

 

Jones scrabbles with the gun, swearing, “Damn safety!†but Owens knows that wasn’t the case. The gun was properly chambered and cocked. It just didn’t go off. With that, he rolls hard to his right, pushing off the van to land in a crouch by Jones, both his own weapons pointing up as his assailant. What he sees is not clear. A man… sort of… the outline of a man, a shadow against the night. No features are distinguishable, but the presence and form the suggests male… and male aggression. Terry pulls his triggers, half expecting what he gets, the simple snap-click of two hammers falling on metal without effect.

 

Ryu can feel it all now. As his chi expands, he reaches out to this place he is in, and senses what others have seen. Just behind him and above, malevolence, dark and unabiding. It’s intent is destruction… to his right, the soft warmth… the invitation of the feminine. He does not see her, as much as he knows that McGregor speaks true when he speaks of a woman.

 

And the dark presence intends her harm. This is absolute truth. It moves… coming fast and hard, down past Jones, to Ryu’s right, in striking distance of the woman. Without hesitancy, and with his eyes closed, Ryu side steps into the enemy alert to the motion of the darkness. As the limbs of the shadow strike, Ryu is there, his knife hand catching the “wrist†and his shoulder the “forearm†of the dark warrior, keeping him from the woman.

 

And he sees her now, beautiful and perfect, looking at him, though he knows his eyes are closed. She asks him, “Will you sacrifice for me?†but Ryu is silent. Feeling a strange chill, deeper than that which is around them already, begin to come from his opponent.

 

McGregor scrabbles in the backseat for a weapon and grabs his baton. Then he comes out of the Rover. In his hand his club snaps out, the grip icy in the cold. He sees the shadow, engaged with Ryu and shoves past Jones swinging the baton in a cross spiral, accelerating it so that he can bring it down in an overhead slash into the enemies chest. The blow is true, catching the enemy in the chest with a solid impact, but seems to have little effect and he feels cold cut through him. It pours from the thing, up his arm… ice and pain, and he jerks back in response.

 

Terry moves, mouth gritted with frustration, turning his pistols once more on the shadow, thumbing back the hammers. He aims to miss his own people, just in case the guns work, but when his fingers pull, the hammers fall empty again. His frustration chokes him… the unreality of everything only increasing it to anger.

 

The shadow strikes. It hits Damien a staggering blow, the force coupled with icy cold that almost drops him, he swings around, his leg going low, trying to pull the shadow man down with a leg sweep and succeeds, though his leg goes nearly numb at the touch, then follows with a crushing blow at the dark place a face should be, but the creature is fast, rolling up and away.

 

Ryu strikes. His chi burns within him and he lets it flow. A difficult manipulation at the best of times, he reaches for the lessons his master had taught him.

 

“There is no distance, no separation. The ‘other’ is an illusion. Nothing is beyond your reach because everything is one.â€

 

Ryu strikes with his will. A focus that he claims can move objects without physically touching them… in this place, his punch pulls reality with it. From a few feet away, Ryu seems to be moving in slow motion to Jones and Terry. It seems he will never touch this speeding shadow, but he seems to have frozen the creature in place. As his fist crosses space it seems to pull the space with it, a stretch of reality, as if passing through transparent screen that holds this unreality together. Those watching blink and wince at this warped view.

 

Then the blow lands, and it tears into the shadow warrior, and it staggers back. Reality is pulled taught, as if ready to snap, and pieces begin to fall into place.

 

All four of the men can now see the woman. She stands calmly beside Ryu, as struggles with the attacker. Each man can hear her now, as she asks the same questions again, “Will you save me? Will you sacrifice for me?â€

 

Terry focuses his fierce gaze on her, as Jones moves past him, clambering back into the Rover, this time the driver seat. Sidestepping Ryu and the beaten McGregor, Owens comes up behind the woman, and sweeps her to the side, putting his body between her and her assailant. “You would save me?†she continues to ask, the beautiful body pressed up against him, but her face open and questioning. “You would sacrifice for me?â€

 

Her scent is sweet, flowery and rich. The only real sensation besides cold in this place. It is somewhat overwhelming to Terry, but at the same time… it is too sweet… too rich… and his nose wrinkles. It is almost sickly… a sweetness tinged with rot. He notices that despite her voluptuous appearance, she feels light and bony and her skin is parchment dry in his grasp.

 

Ryu struggles to keep his focus and again attacks the shadow, but his concentration falters, and he can not focus his chi. Striking with only his hand, he pays for the blow with the cutting cold that emanates from the assassin, the same numbing cold that has collapsed McGregor. The pain sharpens his senses, though, and suddenly, he can see. Reality, the street as it should appear, still dark night, but vibrant with the richness of color and life of which this strange dream world is void. Not fifty feet back, the shadow street ends and the real world reasserts itself. So clear now… and so near.

 

In the truck, Jones watches Terry move toward him in the mirror. Somehow he can see the woman clearly, as if she is staring right at him. Again she repeats her question, and Jones throws his hands up. “Sacrifice what? What do you want me to do?†he yells in frustration and panic. At that moment, up ahead… as Ryu saw behind them, he sees the way out. The darkness and shadow ends, and the street returns. House lights burn, and a a group of five walk down the sidewalk, bottles in hand and singing. They seem to pay no notice to the strange violence occurring not thirty yards from them.

 

Then Terry is piling into the backseat with the woman… and she says something different for the first time. Looking peacefully at Terry, she says, “I can’t leave this place.â€

 

“What?†cries Jones. “Why not?†And as he whirls to look at her, both Terry and he see that she has become old. IS old. Features still symmetrical, but now her hair hangs limp and gray and her skin is wrinkled and dry. Vital flesh has become frail and spindly… but her eyes are still the same deep pools of brown, shining in a now withered face.

 

And Jones sees McGregor go down. After throwing an ineffectual attack, the creature smashes into his chest, and Damien collapses. Ryu, for the moment, is just standing and looking behind.

 

“Hold on!†yells Jones, and throws the Rover into reverse, jerking the vehicle back ten feet, so that McGregor staggers against the passenger door. “Haul him in! We are leaving!†yells Jones, and Terry grabs him and pulls the stunned fighter into the car.

 

Behind them all, Ryu watches shadows form on the edge of the divide between this place and that which is called real. One, two… more… seven, eight… and full dozen of shadowy forms materialize… each one identical to the single foe they have been fighting. Each one equal in intent to destroy. Ryu tries to finish off the first foe, he grapples with it, trying to move into position to destroy it in full sight of it’s charging brothers… but to no avail, the creatures escapes leaving Ryu’s body burning with cold. It’s power too great here, and the ninja grabs hold of the Rover’s luggage rack, stepping on to the bumper, resigning himself to flight.

 

And then she is all around them. The woman appears before each man, as if talking only to him. They all sense the approaching horde. Though she was in the Rover, she is outside it, and will not leave this place. She asks, one final time, “Will you sacrifice for me?â€

 

Each man has a response.

 

McGregor, in pain and nearly shock, blinks back at the oncoming attackers, and then says, “I said I’d try,†and he steps back out on to the street, his baton in hand, pulling his beaten body into an attack stance.

 

“Drive Jones!†yells Terry. “MOVE!†he says, looking back at McGregor standing firm.

 

“It’s not real,†mutters Jones, fear and doubt flooding him… and he punches the accelerator.

 

As the truck leaps forward, Ryu sees McGregor simply standing there awaiting the shadow horde as it closes. The woman, young again, stands behind him, simply watching Damien. The Rover starts to move, pulling him away…

 

… and Ryu simply steps off. His mind is hyper clear in this moment. He is sure that this fight is unwinnable, but there is something… he isn’t sure at first what… something…

 

Something RIGHT about this. “It is just the right thing to do,†thinks Ryu, for the first time in his life. There is a strange and absolute satisfaction in that moment that he has never felt before. It is right. McGregor, noting the Ryu has his back, just nods.

 

And then the horde is upon them… burning cold violence.

 

 

Jones and Terry see it all behind them. The attackers swarm their compatriots and the woman. McGregor swings, and for a moment metal flashes. His baton is gone, and in his hand is his sword, light and lethal. A wry smile comes across Damien’s face, and he steps forward boldy in to the mass… his first swing cutting through a shadow like fire through smoke, discorporating the beast entirely. Beside, him Ryu twists and spins, striking and blocking with blinding speed.

 

Their stand lasts less than two seconds. McGregor goes downs first, shadowy fists and claws smash him to the ground… and he is literally torn apart, throat and stomach and heart pierced by cold fire. Ryu follows almost immediately, the mass of black shadow overwhelming and smothering him, cold piercing his center and finding the burning source of his chi… and his last sense is that of a candle flame being snuffed out.

 

Speeding away, Terry and Jones watch both of their friends die.

 

(more later)

[Storn]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

The others look over at the uncharacteristic humor from Owens, and see his mouth twitch in a nervous smile. His eyes are a bit wild and staring.

 

What uncharacteristic humor? Terry is not some grim killer, weilder of death... oh whataminute, he is. But on his good days, when he is in his right mind, he has lots of humor.

[RDU Neil]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

The others look over at the uncharacteristic humor from Owens, and see his mouth twitch in a nervous smile. His eyes are a bit wild and staring.

 

What uncharacteristic humor? Terry is not some grim killer, weilder of death... oh whataminute, he is. But on his good days, when he is in his right mind, he has lots of humor.

Uncharacteristic for a threatening situation, when he's normally all business, cool and composed. The fact that you played him different in his reaction to this utterly strange situation I thought very cool. It made Terry that much more three dimensional, to me at least.

[Speedball]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

There's no doubt I was confused by the post, but I think that's natural. In the past, you've compared reading these posts to reading a comic, and I think that's an apt comparison. But since we haven't gotten to the end of the issue, we don't yet *get* that there's a sort of nightmare/dream sequence going on or how to make sense of it because--from the perspective of the characters--*NOBODY* knows what's going on. You couldn't explain the situation without spilling all the narrative beans.

 

So, while I'm a little confused, I think that's all part of the genre convention. Now, if we get to the end of the issue and I'm still confused after repeated readings, I'll get mad.

[Storn]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

Uncharacteristic for a threatening situation' date=' when he's normally all business, cool and composed. The fact that you played him different in his reaction to this utterly strange situation I thought very cool. It made Terry that much more three dimensional, to me at least.[/quote']

 

 

Ah. I understand where you are coming from better.

 

I actually feel that Terry has a lot of good nature. Sorta an aw-shucks, kinda Brit. It is just when that Kali clarity comes over... that is when he turns into a bad ass.

 

Or when he is in a sniper position, KNOWING beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he has the upper hand... that his training will hold him in good stead... but if Terry was in that close quarters fight that Ryu had to go through? And that spiritual fugue state of Kali didn't infuse him? He would have been going "oh bollocks!, OH CRAP!!" thru the entire firefight.

 

But it is that dichotomy that I really enjoy playing with Terry. Lets me be an "adventurer", yet at the same time, respond to what a whacky, emotional, lunacy being an adventurer is.

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 2 discussion

 

Now' date=' if we get to the end of the issue and I'm still confused after repeated readings, I'll get mad. [/quote']

 

This is particularly funny, because in the game moment after I said to Joe and Eric, "You die," there was a natural lull to let it sink in. Joe just looked at me after a second and said, "Neil, if you say 'wait til next week' or 'just read what happens in the write up' I"m going to pick up this table and throw it at you!"

 

We all cracked up. But it was honest emotion from Joe. He hasn't been in our games that long, and never in an overwhelmingly bleak situation like this before. He didn't know whether or not I was just going to leave them hanging like that.

 

Luckily for him I didn't. I'll have the finish posted this afternoon, I hope.

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 2 Finish

 

Jones tears his eyes away from the rearview, gaping at the fact that he is now accelerating down a normal side street… lights, movement, humid warmth all burst back into existence. The rood is still tightly lined with cars, and ahead pedestrians are crossing toward the docks that are now visible not two blocks away. He desperately slams on the breaks, shearing the Rover sideways, and only his frantic hauling on the wheel keeps him from plowing into a parked pick-up truck. Jones and Terry are thrown forward by the fast deceleration, catching themselves awkwardly on the front dash.

 

Front dash? Terry looks down. He is back in the front passenger seat, where he’d been sitting when this all started… not the backseat where he’d been when he told Jones to go.

 

Backseat! Both men whirl at the same time, looking back. Where is Ryu? Where is Damien? The woman?

 

Immediately Jones realizes that he is sitting on Damien. McGregor had been driving when things got weird, and now he is shoved half out of the driver’s seat, with Jones crammed on top of him. He lies limp and unmoving, his face pale and waxen.

 

Far behind them, the street is empty and open. There is no sign of anything out of the ordinary. It is just a small street in a small town in the Philippines. In the back seat, where he’d been sitting originally, Ryu slumps against the door. His face is also deathly pale, but his eyes are slightly open, rolled back showing the whites, and he twitches slightly.

 

Jones immediately begins to check for a pulse and breath, first on McGregor and then Ryu. He pushes himself halfway out of the vehicle, flinching at the thought of ice cold, biting air, but only finds the soggy salt breeze natural for this climate. With fingers on their throats, Jones breathes out a ragged exhalation, noting that it is faint and thready, but both have a pulse. “They are in shock!†says Jones, immediately figuring out what they might need.

 

Owens isn’t listening. He’s out the door, standing in the street with both guns out in his hands, spinning around and looking for targets. He bellows, “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?†He feels his skin, still cold, reacting to the moist air with that sick clammy feeling of a fever breaking. His eyes burn, but inside him a grim focus begins to build, and he is barely able to turn and react to Jones’ cries of “They need liquids and we need to get them warm!†He sees Jones now, stretching out both men on the seats, rubbing Damien’s hands to warm them, clearing air passages, and making sure they aren’t chocking. He turns around, and sees a small group of revelers that has stopped ahead of them watching the scene. He stomps over to them, and yells “Give me the bottle! I need your bottle!†indicating the nearly full tequila bottle in one man’s hand. As he points, Terry realizes he still has his MK 23 in his hand and that part of him has already factored the easy headshots that would kill all five of these scared men in less than that many seconds.

 

Terry is aware of this dark piece of death swelling within him, and for the fist time bites it back. His finger eases off the trigger, and instead simply waves the gun at the bottle and he barks, “Put it down and go!†The men do so, scampering away, and Terry holsters the pistols, snatches up the bottle, and stalks back to the car. He takes a hefty swig of the burning liquid as he goes.

 

Back at the vehicle, Ryu is sitting up. Still looking wasted and diminished somewhat, there is at least some color returning to his face. It is slow going, but he is pulling himself up into a lotus position, deep breathing and clearly going into a meditative mode.

 

McGregor doesn’t look so good. He is still washed out, pale and twitching now. Terry takes the tequila and splashes some one McGregor’s lips, then forces some into his mouth and makes him swallow. It barely generates a gag reflex, and Jones quietly says, “I don’t think that is helping.†Terry’s frustrated response is unintelligible.

 

After moving Damien to the backseat, Terry takes the driver seat so Jones can continue treating Damien. Before starting to drive, Terry just says again, “What the fuck happened?†still smelling a hint of the cloying sweetness of the woman’s scent.

 

“We died,†comes Ryu’s voice from the back seat. Jones and Terry look at him, asking questions, but Ryu only glances down at Damien’s unconscious form and repeats, “We died.†His voice is flat and matter of fact.

 

Finally putting the Range Rover into gear, Terry drives ahead, and takes the left onto the main dock road. It is wide, used for trucks, but at this time of night, has only a few cars amongst a large number of pedestrians. Clearly the bars and restaurants serving the fishermen and sailors are the prime businesses open at this hour. Terry slowly drives down the road, looking for the Blue Lantern, at a loss for what else to do. The conversation between he and Jones consists of muted, “Are we going to stay?â€

“I don’t know.â€

 

“What should we do?â€

 

“I don’t know. What do you think?â€

 

“I don’t know.â€

 

Ryu says nothing, but he is watching McGregor whose shallow breathing deepens a bit, and the twitching subsides. A hint of flush begins to seep into his skin again.

 

The Blue Lantern is as obvious as Tazag said it would be. A large, three story in attached to a warehouse. At least a dozen blue lanterns hanging from hooks on the porch and roof corners, as well as the single tree growing from a large box planter in front. Terry pulls up next to it, in a small alley. It looks inviting, but neither he nor Jones makes a move to get out.

 

“We should do something.â€

 

â€Yeah… check it out or something.â€

 

“Yeah, but what about all the guns?â€

 

“Yeah.â€

 

The camera pulls back as Terry shuts off the engine. The doors don’t open, all the men staying inside. No one moves. The tension and discomfort thick between them. They all just sit alone with their thoughts.

 

Ryu though, has a little smile on his face. His mind continues to flash back to the moment of death… the pain of avulsion… the utter sense of final ending… Yet there was something else in that one moment, just as they died. He knows McGregor saw it too… as they fell…

 

Ryu’s mind flashes back.

 

In that moment, just before death, his mind’s eye had seen true. It had flashed on a side street near to the event. There, parked in shadows, he saw the black rickshaw. Though there was no light, he was able to see inside to the figure sitting there. She was, herself, wrapped in black, behind black curtains, but Ryu could still see her. A body now earthly and old, it is unmistakably that of the woman who asked to be saved. Her deep brown eyes shine out as her head snaps back at the moment of death, and she can see Ryu and McGregor as well. There is pain and exhaustion in her face, but her eyes look at them with openness and honesty.

 

She says only one word. “Salamat.â€

 

Thank you.

 

A small thing… but for Ryu, he finds it to be enough.

 

End Book 2 – Episode 2

[RDU Neil]

SW - Bk 2 - Ep 2 The G, B and U

 

The Good: That there was any kind of game out of this session was a plus. It was not my best night as GM, and the actual game play was pretty incoherent and non-linear... but in the end, the players came through. I was reluctant to throw this "weirdness" at them full force, but IMO, the responded as I'd hoped. As gamers, they could have disected and analyzed the situation and tried to pull a version of the old "I disbelieve..." trope and everything would have fallen flat. Instead they really stayed in character, and as things got weird, they responded in unique ways that made sense to the story, and explored some real "character" aspects of their characters. This was very satisfying for me.

 

The Bad: The first half of the game was horribly disjointed. I realize now that the game is still new enough that I, the GM, need to present more concrete, tactical situations for the group to deal with, rather than pulling back and saying, "Ok, what do you do..." The big picture of the game, the big picture for the characters, is still unclear, and the lack of tactical "trailblazing" mode of gaming, we have a bit too much confusion. Lesson learned.

 

The Ugly: Storywise, whether or not this session works, really depends on the next session. How the players (and thus the player characters) react to this event is key. Do they pull in Berkmann, talk about it and investigate? Do they clam up and keep it all bottled up inside and pull the stoic male thing? Does it honestly freak out a PC so much that he becomes ineffective (potetially cool role playing, but hell on group cohesion.) The fall out of this session is really critical to the future of the campaign, so we'll see what happens.

 

Thanks for all who put up with my confusing write-ups. I hope it made at least a bit more sense in the end. (For the audience, if not clear to the characters.)

[RDU Neil]

Re: Dark Champions: Secret Worlds

 

In the past' date=' you've compared reading these posts to reading a comic, and I think that's an apt comparison. [/quote']

 

With my Champs games, I've often spoken in terms of framing scenes as panel shots, series of panels, splash pages, etc.

 

With Secret Worlds, I think more in movie terms. Camera angles, fade ins, fade outs, cut scenes, close ups, establishing shots... that kind of thing. Different genre, different mental visuals for me.

[Storn]

Re: SW - Bk 2 - Ep 2 The G, B and U

 

 

The Bad: The first half of the game was horribly disjointed. I realize now that the game is still new enough that I, the GM, need to present more concrete, tactical situations for the group to deal with, rather than pulling back and saying, "Ok, what do you do..." The big picture of the game, the big picture for the characters, is still unclear, and the lack of tactical "trailblazing" mode of gaming, we have a bit too much confusion. Lesson learned.

 

 

I think you are being a bit hard on yourself. I thought the pace was good. We needed that easy, slow build up for the fenetic, crazyiness that was the Shadowy Skirmish to have the right rhythym. Damien (Promo, as Terry calls him) trying to find a range rover, the gun buy, the switching hotels... all gave a sense of the Phillippines and a sorta hazy, lazy life. Contrasted sharply with Shadow Ninjas and Demonic Damsels.

 

I think what is disjointed is the unclear understanding of how much progress on finding Stang's daughter has been made... and how important to you, the GM, we pursue that... how important to the group that is. I tried to make inroads on tracking info on the Warlord who has Stang's daughter, but it got me nowhere... I think it has slipped a bit in the minds of the others.

 

Now, that is fine... I have no problem that no progress has been made on that front... but is it okay from a story POV?