Steve

Bolo's tale reminded me of an incident with an unlucky player in a Spacemaster campaign I ran about twenty-five years ago.
 
The group was a bunch of mercenaries working for House Devon who came across another bunch of mercenaries working for House Colos. During the ensuing firefight, one of the players grabbed a blaster rifle off a dead Colosian (because it was quicker than reloading his own weapon, as I recall). His first shot was a fumble, and the Spacemaster fumble chart result was that it was a dead power pack. He then grabs a second rifle and promptly rolls another fumble with the same dead power pack result coming up again.
 
The player's next words were totally in character, "Cheapjack Colosian s**t" as he tossed the defective weapon aside and finally got a working weapon to keep shooting with. After that, I wrote it into the campaign that Colosian-made weaponry had a reputation among soldiers as being poorly-made junk that couldn't hold a power pack charge.

In my Secret Worlds game, our last big session was about five hours of a running gun battle, from the basement of an office tower to about the seventh floor (invading a PMC corporate HQ). The PCs are all above average, Jason Bourne levels, vs. trained, well armed, but much more normal troops. The dice went incredibly bad for them all night long, including one PC who had a 3 rolled against him on the very first burst from a bad guy of the game, and had to spend half of his luck chits just to take a heavy wound, rather than be greased, then rolled an 18 himself near the end of the fight, so that he failed to take out a shooter, and died subsequently (all out of chits on his end by that point.) At least two other "3s" were rolled against the PCs that evening, at least these were bad guy perception rolls and such, so didn't directly kill a character... but that was four rolls of 3 or 18 in one session, where we usually go multiple sessions without either coming up.  Also, at least 5 times, a roll massively in favor of the PCs went against them. Once, a character had the drop on a bad guy with a shotgun. Granted he was untrained with guns (master hand to hand, not so much with guns) and nearly missed, then only hit the Hand (6) on hit location... then rolled 2 1's for damage.  He essentially blew the guys fingers off and pissed him off so bad that he began just hosing the area with bullets for the next several rounds. Another guy needed a 15- to hit one shot, rolled a 16 and the return fire was really ugly. At least twice the bad guys needed a 7 or less to hit... and rolled 5s with automatic weapons, hitting twice!
 
It was so ugly. The players were both really into it and amazed only one of them died, but also dispirited. They weren't blaming me, but every roll was like, "OH COME ON!" as the "bad beats" (in poker terms) just kept coming.

It was in the nature of the game for things to be this bloody, and honestly they actually secured their objective (place a hack and rescue a captured comrade) but the fight was a loss by all gaming standards, and they lost one. I felt bad, but as the guy who lost his character said, "It's just math. You can't be mad at math."*
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* He was really mad at math, actually. 

I was running my Champions campaign last night.
 
The PCs had travelled to Malva to rescue superhumans taken for the gladiatorial games.
 
During the course of the night, they ended up on board one of the Malvan Worldships, a miles-long warship, and got into a fight with the AI soldiers on board.
 
Dread, the PC in question, has a hand-to-hand AOE (One Hex-Accurate) and attacked a couple of the AI soldiers. The final attack roll was an 18.
 
Then the PC's next roll, an Acrobatics roll as I recall, was an 18 as well.
 
I don't think I've ever seen back-to-back 18s in a gaming session before, and I've been playing for over 35 years.
 
The unluck was strong with this player last night.
 
 

In the 1890s, a Chinese-American business magnate gifted the city with a conservatory and botanical garden. 
 
One of the houses near Coastal City University's fraternity row is home to an all-female Japanese culture group that some wags call "The Daughters of the Dragon".  Within the group they take Japanese first names.  They host monthly tea ceremonies in the Student Union that the public's invited to.  The university area's also the location of the city's Shinto shrine.
 
More to come.

Regeneration with the Resurrection adder continues to work after a character dies, so I'm wondering if there are ways to have other abilities that continue to work after a character dies.
 
Would abilities that are built with the Inherent Advantage also keep working after death?
 
Would abilities that are built with both 0 END Cost and Persistent keep working after death?

Technically, since your game universe is its own alternate universe, naming conventions of our real universe need not necessarily apply.

Actually the second 18 was an EGO roll to push teleport. That 18 burned out teleport and reduced Dread to her run speed. The Acrobatics roll to dive into the ship was a failure, a 16, just not an 18. Still 18, 18, and 16 was a bad combo. Now if I had been rolling for D&D stats I'd be off to a good start.

Our colleague, Steve, suggested San Angelo, which was created by Gold Rush Games as the home town for the Sailor Senshi.  Said city is close to the Sierras and its river system connects to the Sacramento River, which eventually flows into San Francisco Bay.  
 
I had given it some consideration a while ago, but decided against it because it would be too hard to remove the supers from it.  What do you, my learned colleagues, think? 

Foxbat (secret ID: Freddy Foswell) has the Psychological Complication "Thinks He's Living In A Comic Book (VC,Total)" and acts accordingly, so he would be kind of like Deadpool, I guess.
 
What if this was a recognized form of dementia in a superhero universe? I've made it as such in my current Champions campaign and named it "Foswell Syndrome" in his honor.

Foxbat (secret ID: Freddy Foswell) has the Psychological Complication "Thinks He's Living In A Comic Book (VC,Total)" and acts accordingly, so he would be kind of like Deadpool, I guess.
 
What if this was a recognized form of dementia in a superhero universe? I've made it as such in my current Champions campaign and named it "Foswell Syndrome" in his honor.

Foxbat (secret ID: Freddy Foswell) has the Psychological Complication "Thinks He's Living In A Comic Book (VC,Total)" and acts accordingly, so he would be kind of like Deadpool, I guess.
 
What if this was a recognized form of dementia in a superhero universe? I've made it as such in my current Champions campaign and named it "Foswell Syndrome" in his honor.

When characters exposed to high or low Temperature Levels lose REC as discussed on 6E2 145. Treat the REC as being “permanently” lost until the character spends time in an area that’s at the Comfort Zone — every 20 minutes spent at the Comfort Zone allows him to regain one lost increment of REC.
 
For example, suppose that a character spends 40 minutes in Temperature Level -3 conditions. That means he’s lost -6 REC (and -6 END, though that doesn’t matter for purposes of this question). Fortunately, he finds shelter that maintains Comfort Zone temperatures. After 20 minutes in this shelter he regains 3 REC; after 40 minutes he regains the remaining -3 and is now at full REC.

Foxbat (secret ID: Freddy Foswell) has the Psychological Complication "Thinks He's Living In A Comic Book (VC,Total)" and acts accordingly, so he would be kind of like Deadpool, I guess.
 
What if this was a recognized form of dementia in a superhero universe? I've made it as such in my current Champions campaign and named it "Foswell Syndrome" in his honor.

If you haven't seen it yet, backers will now receive PDF copies of Champions third edition and the two supplements upon successful completion of the campaign!

The House of Flying Headbones

In which the Covenant of Wati continue their archeological assessment of a very thoroughly haunted house, and the gnoll Zenobia deals with her crush on the dervish Asrian.

I missed the last session, because I was stalking numbats a few hundred kilometers out of Perth, so missed the demise of undead kitten horde, more giant bugs, an unusually intelligent sand elemental, and so on. It's been a long day. At least Nemat, who had predicted lots of undead in these tombs and buildings, finally got some satisfaction.

Nemat Ooc: Well, Zenobia just slaughtered a kid and their parents.
Zenobia OoC: what species?
Nemat OoC: Human.
Zenobia OoC: oh dear
Nemat OoC: Well, they had let themselves go. Hyper-emaciated, really.
Zenobia OoC: ah - mercy killing then

They were undead skeletons.

Nemat: Oh, and we found something nice for you - this golden holy symbol of Sarenrae.

We also find a welcoming inscription in the atrium of the main building, surrounded by bodies.

GM: But they’ve long-since disintegrated.
Zenobia: Like that means anything, these days.

The bodies shrug off the dust of centuries and pick up their weapons.

Zenobia: *sigh*
Onka: Well, we predicted a trap if we came in through the front door, and we were right.
Zenobia: But a welcoming inscription and undead guardians? That’s just rude.
Asrian: Maybe they were house guards that died at their post.

Given the hallucinatory sounds of battle that Nemat hears as he moves in, Asrian is probably right. Asrian and Nemat deal with the first, and Zenobia explodes the second with the blessings of Sarenrae.

Zenobia: Hopefully whoever these were will go on to whatever awaits them in the afterlife.
Nemat: Eh, doubtful, these were spontaneous undead. Wait, these were household guard, weren’t they? F**k, this could be bad.

Nemat paces and thinks aloud, about what the implications of restless spontaneous undead means, despite the blessing the cult of Pharasma cast over the Necropolis to stop that very thing happening.

Zenobia: *proud of her friend’s erudition* Look, he’s lecturing again.

Nemat gets the rest of us to help interr the dead properly - dying on duty and just being left to rot where they lay would be enough to piss off anybody. And death, rot and piss also helps describe the stench in the main dining room, where polished human skulls have been stacked on goblets, on silver platters.

Onka: Charming.
Skulls: *levitate, cackle, and attack*
Asrian: Flying headbones. How Wonderful.
Nemat: Zenobia, you’re up.

The fear-inducing screeching, and acid spit, is a problem. Asrian obliterates most of them with one of her own spells. The rest don’t last much longer. At least the smell dissipates.

Zenobia: Nemat, was this another spontaneous haunt or did somebody set this up?
Nemat: Uh, um…. Probably set up.

But hundreds of years ago, or yesterday? The lack of dust is not a clue, either.

Nemat: All it takes is an Unseen Servant to dust the room every day.
Onka: They probably buried an enchanted brick in the foundations as a focus for the spell.

We poke around cautiously, Zenobia finding most of the more interesting trinkets.

Asrian: She’s my seeing eye dog.

Zenobia finds a ring - and gets the distinct impression that someone is breathing on her neck.

Zenobia: Is that you, Asrian?
Asrian: … no?
Zenobia: Is anybody else behind me right now?
Nemat: No?
Zenobia: I think we have a problem.

Nemat confirms that the ring is haunted, evil, chaotic, and magical. It’s also inscribed, in Ancient Osiriani, to one Ariseti. Then we all get to enjoy a flashback to an ancient marriage proposal, and cross-river romance, and the ring being misplaced, all at the onset of the Plague of Madness. Fancy history for a Ring of Protection +1

Nemat: It would appear the ring needs to be given as a genuine token of love and affection, as it was originally intended. That should remove the haunt.
Zenobia: *goes very quiet and blushes under her fur, and tries not to look at Asrian*
Onka: Well, we’ll pass it along to the priests later, and see if they can deal with it.
Zenobia: Yes! Let’s do that!

Zenobia distracts herself from romantic thoughts about the dervish, by looking for traps upstairs. Unfortunately for her composure, Asrian helps. Still, it DOES reveal some kind of magical aura behind one of the doors.

Nemat: *casts Detect Evil*
GM: Ping.
Nemat: Asrian, you and Zenobia go in through the other door.
Zenobia: *nods enthusiastically*

We burst in the room through both doors, expecting something moderately evil, probably using Illusion magic. It’s a bedroom, with wasp nests.

Nemat: Reveal yourself, fiend, we know you’re here.
Male Voice: And get myself killed? I don’t think so.
Nemat: I take it we have you to thank for the excitement downstairs?
Male Voice: A mere parlour trick. Why have to come to my home, to destroy my house and harm my associates?
Nemat: To do the will of the Pharaoh.
Voice: The Pharaoh is long dead.
Nemat: The current Pharaoh.
Voice: MY Pharaoh is dead - the current is a pretender to the throne. Now leave my home - I have done nothing to you and your kind.
Zenobia OoC: I’m just looking around for the monster - I’m expecting a Nazi skeleton filled with bees.

Eventually it loses patience and tries to mentally command Nemat to jump off the balcony. It fails, but at least reveals itself as a floating horned head. Asrian and Nemat recognise it as Imanish the Div, the creature that regularly tries to lure the desperate of the town over the wall, and into the Necropolis, by posing as a friendly Djinn.

Asrian: THIS f**ker!
Nemat: JUDGEMENT!
Asrian: I hate Djinn, I hate Divs and I HATE YOU MOST OF ALL!

Fucko McHeadly attempts to flee, and avoids the attempted curbstomping by Onka who was standing in the doorway.

Imanish the Div: Minions! To Me!

Nemat acrobatically leaps down into the internal atrium, and hits the monster with ANOTHER scream attack before it can escape. Asrian arrives soon thereafter.

Asrian: DIE YOU F**KER F**KSTAIN F**KHEAD-
Nemat: Asrian? I think he’s already dead.
GM: You manage to curb your battlerage long enough to realise it just said something about minions, just before the six Vargouilles arrive.

Excitement ensues, and not in favour of the good guys. These flying heads ALSO have screaming attacks, which paralyse Zenobia and Onka.

Nemat: ShitshitshitShitSHIT!
Asrian: Don’t move. *runs up Nemat’s back, leaps off his shoulders, and back onto the upstairs balcony to protect Zenobia and Onka.*

Alas, with two of us for Asrian to protect, Zenobia gets Kissed, and starts transforming into a Vargouille herself.

Zenobia: *whimpering noises through the paralysation*
Asrian: *something unprintable in Osirian*
Nemat: It’ll be fine if we can get her into sunlight!
Zenobia: nnnnhhgghgggddaAAaAAGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Nemat: Is everybody alright up there?
Asrian: No!
Zenobia: I can’t feel my legs!
Nemat: Please tell me nobody got Kissed.
Zenobia: It put its TONGUE in my MOUTH.
Nemat: Get her into the sunlight!
GM: And the sun sinks over the horizon.
Nemat: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

Despite Zenobia’s RAPID changes, including most of her fur falling out, Onka and Asrian take the time to crack the strongbox they spotted in the bedroom.

Zenobia: What are you DOING???
Onka: Prioritising.
Zenobia: *&^%(&^$(*!
Asrian: Hey, at least this way we’ll have the money to pay the priests to cure you.

GM: By the time you get Zenobia to the temple, Zenobia’s ears are starting to grow.
Zenobia OoC: And they were already pretty big.
Nemat: Guards! Fetch a healer!
Asrian: A priest!
Nemat: Both! Your most powerful one!

Sebti the Crocodile herself comes running.

Asrian: We ran into Imanish and his pack!
Nemat: We got them but Zenobia got Kissed!
Sebti: Oh Goddess - we must act quickly!
Zenobia: *whimpering like a whipped dog*

Happily, Sebti’s prayers work, and Zenobia stops looking quite like a Mexican Hairless.

Nemat: I’ve been fretting over you the the whole time.
Asrian: So have I.
Nemat: But now I’m sure you’re going to be fine, I’ll get back to writing my report.
Asrian: Let’s get you back to the inn for some good beer and a rest. Nemat, you handle the money.
Nemat: And Onka can Mend that wedding dress we found.
Zenobia: *brain derails again*

Of course, Zenobia is going to look ridiculous for some time, since it’s not like her fur is going to grow back instantly. And when she wakes up in the morning she discovers she’s been thoroughly groomed.

Zenobia: I’m going to need it. And I’ll probably have to worry about sunburn for the next few days. Wait… who undressed me?
Asrian: I was the only one with you last night.
Zenobia: *blushes so bright red she looks sunburned*
Asrian: Oh, and I have a question - what gender ARE you?
Zenobia: *splutters incoherently*
Asrian: Because you have breasts and you’ve also got all that.

GM: It’s generally accepted that the cetacean Moreaus all headed out to sea and never came back. They might even think they’re still being hunted.
Hero Shrew: So basically, No, there isn’t a supply of GMO ambergris out there.

Fireflash: ‘Face the wrath of a truly EVOLVED dinosaur!’
Monster: BKAW!
Flux: ‘Is that a thirty-foot chicken?’

Hero Shrew was only peripherally involved in the capture, hospitalisation, and intimidation of the Moreau super-crooks Thunder and Lightning, so hopefully he’ll be off the hook for retaliation from his fellow GMOs. Still...

GM: So, who wants to catch Scooter up on the situation?
Hardlight: Sure! Basically, Babies! You’re going to have to start wearing a condom, Scooter. Not that you’ve ever got to fourth base as far as I know.
Flux: Scooter’s love life aside, one of the girls at Madam Lil’s got pregnant.

Apparently Genesys fitted all their products with chemical birth control implants, and those implants are finally wearing off. And the police would quite like Thunder to stay in protective custody, because the Moreau community are going to PISSED that he spilled the beans. Usually the ECPD hand Moreau crooks back over to their community for punishment, because they anticipate Moreaus getting human rights eventually, and they have enough problems with the human gangs, without extra trouble from people that aren’t legally people yet.

GM: So we need you, Scooter, to persuade him to stay in custody.
Hero Shrew: …. Uhh…
Flux: Yes, we need you to be the Face.
Hero Shrew: Well. OK then. ‘The cops would like you to stay in custody for a while, but I don’t know why. I mean, I think it’s great that I might be a dad some day, but the rest of the Zoo don’t want people to know for some reason?’
GM: *sigh*
Hardlight: They don’t want people to know for the same reason I’m making a plan. We don’t want this situation to turn into a bloodbath and the Zoo on fire.
GM: And Humanity First are the moderates.
Flux: Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-

We now have to think about what the various organisations and gangs will think about the news. Even the Sanity Liberation Front (basically hactivists with bombs) are going to a problem, because if the news gets out the SLF will have the news worldwide within minutes.

GM: The Human Supremacy Front are the reason nobody wears the Vitruvian Man around Edge City. Because they use it as a tag.
Fireflash: Assholes.

And the violent ultra-right Christians they hang around with are worse.

And the political fallout will be significant too. The question of granting human status to Moreaus could have been put off indefinitely, and in a few decades would have been irrelevant went they all died of old age, but now Moreau reproduction will put a rocket under the issue. Some groups (the Chinese government, for one) are all in favour of granting them the franchise, but there are also plenty of vested interests that do not want another bloc added to the mix.

GM: They’ll hire an alligator poolboy, but they don’t want him to vote.

Hero Shrew: On the bright side, so far only us and the ECPD know you blabbed. Well, and Guilt-rider too, somehow. Maybe you could tell us where to find her, and shut down that possible leak?
Thunder: I’m not going to grass on Guilt-rider! She and that merc she hangs about with are BAD NEWS.
Hero Shrew: Yeah, you probably don’t want her AND the entire Moreau community on your arse.

Thunder: If Tommy V finds out about this I’m dead.
Hero Shrew: What, that springbok guy, really likes baseball bats? It’s not his kid, is it?
Thunder: Jeez, I hope not.
Hero Shrew: Why do you think he’ll be angry with you?
Thunder: I’m in HOSPITAL, in POLICE CUSTODY, HELPING WITH THEIR INQUIRIES, and it’s TOMMY FUCKING V, WHAT DO YOU THINK??? But it’s probably not his kid, he always prefered the cowgirl.
All: *consider the picture of the cowgirl in question*
Hero Shrew: Well then. Ms. Frequent Back Pain, I see
Fireflash: There’s a reason she does most of her work lying down..

GM: Who’s he in the most danger from?
Flux: Right now? The police, mostly.
GM: And you’ve talked him into staying in police custody. Well done.
Hero Shrew: He thinks he’s in trouble with lots of people, including Tommy V.
Flux: Who?
Hero Shrew: That springbok that likes to work with baseball bats?
GM: He doesn’t LIKE to, but people keep making him.
Flux: ‘I’m just trying to make a living and people like you keep disrespecting me’.

GM: If I wanted to use your Weirdness Magnet, I’d have the Nazis launch their attack from their hidden moon-base.

Which probably explains one of those Greys, waiting for us in a hoodie, next to the Qruiser.

Hardlight: Oh, hi, how are you guys?
Grey: Our world is being invaded.
Flux: … That’s not good.
Grey: Minds wrapped in iron. Minds of hate. They’re heading into Chinatown. Through the tunnels.
Flux: Oh god, we’re fighting in the sewers again.
Hardlight: Everybody in! We’re heading to Chinatown! Maximum Warp!
Hero Shrew: Make it so!
GM: Did you buy lights and sirens for the Qruiser?
Hardlight: …. No?

We drive a legal speed to Chinatown - Flux and Fireflash fly, because it’s faster. We head into the utility tunnels, where Hardlight’s radar sense picks up mysterious figures through the wall. And some of those figures are apparently solid, four meters tall, and turned towards towards the radar.

Flux: Oh fearless leader, what do your elf eyes see?
GM: Good question - all the rest of you have heard over the intercom is “Um. Well, it’s not Nazi garbage monsters” and a click. And they’re Kool-aiding it through the wall now anyway.

It’s four suits of big silver power armour and eight people in black suits.

Hero Shrew: Woohoo! Big guys! I can hit those! *flying tackles the nearest*

The armour goes down hard.

Fireflash: So… good defences, but not GREAT defences.
Hero Shrew: He probably wasn’t expecting to be tackled to the ground by a 5ft tall shrew.
Fireflash: Does anybody?

Bad Guy: Finally I get to tangle with some freaks! *shoots Scooter with some kind of plasma cannon*
Hero Shrew: Hey! That stings!

It rapidly becomes apparent that these guys REALLY haven’t tangled with ‘freaks’ before, because Flux almost managed to break free of an Entangle attack with his merely human strength, and Hardlight’s more explosive powers would make short work of more of them - if he hadn’t somehow managed to miss multiple targets in a confined space with an area attack.

GM: It’s a gift. I seriously have to stat this out as a disadvantage ‘Played by Muskie’

Flux: Scooter looks pissed.
Hero Shrew: Pissed is the natural state of shrews.

The guys in suits extend the rods they’re carrying, activate force fields, and go after Hardlight.

Hero Shrew: Great! If they’re that close you can drop an area-effect attack on your own feet.
Flux: And probably kill himself.
GM: Actually, his powers only ever make him look like an idiot. It’s his decisions that could get him killed.

Hero Shrew and Fireflash finish off the other two tin cans - the former punching his a hundred feet or so back down the utility tunnel.

Flux: You should punch things more often - you’re wasted doing fancy things like ‘tackle’.
Hero Shrew: Yeah, but in the old days I couldn’t just punch things, because everything was a squishy human.
GM: That was a squishy human too.
Hero Shrew: *shrugs*

Hero Shrew: *looking around at the various unconscious Humanity First members* Well, I was hoping I’d get to say ‘Which one is our informant?’ before we knocked them all out.
 

It could almost be an Iliad.

A casino with a space theme, you say? Check the bottom of this page.
 
I had run a Champions game set in Las Vegas off and on in the late 80s and early 90s, but the vibe would be totally different now. Then, you still had the remnants of the old guard, like the Dunes, the Sands, The Desert Inn, Sahara, and The New Frontier on the Strip. Downtown didn't have a canopy over Fremont Street, and The Mint and Lady Luck were still around. The mega-resorts were just starting to be planned and built.
 
I had run a multi-part adventure for my players, which had them chasing various clues from villains originally unknown. Very often, they would end up crossing paths with Viper agents from the local Nest running strange errands. As things progressed, various motifs revolving around carnivals, circuses, and eventually clowns were involved, eventually culminating in a strange ultimatum involving a threat to send a Las Vegas Landmark into orbit.
 
 
 
 
The PCs failed to stop the plan.
 
 

Wendy Pini, co-creator of the Elfquest graphic series, was (in)famous for rocking her homemade Red Sonja chainmail bikini at comic conventions.
 

I have a group called the Majestick Twelve that is composed of parahumans and aliens working for the U.S. Air Force in protecting the world (when the Global Defense Initiative is asleep at the wheel) from alien threats. They are based at (where else ?) Area 51. I also have a hero named Card Sharp who runs a casino with a space theme to let the group blow off some steam from time to time.
 
With all that atomic testing back in the day you should have no trouble coming up with mutated humans and animals that would keep your team busy. Perhaps a whole community near one of those sites.
 
There is an annual electronics convention there. You could do an "Oceans 11" -style heist for valuable technology on display there.

Something I came across in my picture browsing. It's more Urban Fantasy Hero than Champions though.

Another background element of the campaign is the region officially known as North Las Vegas but is more commonly known by the locals as Neverland.
 
North Las Vegas boasts a population approaching 250,000 as of 2018, but a significant portion of that population is inhuman: former denizens of Faerie, renegades from one of the various Netherworlds, at least one coterie of vampires, scattered Fae-blooded humans, Witchbreed (the campaign's name for mutants) and also an assortment of shamans, sorcerers and wizards. It is arguably one of the largest concentrations of such beings in the United States, estimated at one or two percent of the total population (although it could be higher). While there are a very few powerful enough to participate in the Superhuman World, most are not that powerful and even many of the most powerful among them don’t bother. Neverland is also a hodgepodge of the rich and well-off mixed with a few slums where the local police avoid going unless absolutely necessary, giving PRIMUS control of them and letting them deal with any crimes that occur there.
 
Due to the current state of the law, those who are not of human descent have few rights. Witchbreed and Fae-blooded, being of provable human descent with a simple blood test, receive rights equal to that of an ordinary human. Vampires, while also receiving human rights (and there is even one working for the local branch of PRIMUS), are somewhat more limited in those rights as the laws are still in flux regarding their “undead person” status and they are watched closely. They are also supposed to register their whereabouts in a similar fashion to Megan’s Law, but it is not enforced very heavily. So-called “anthros” range from actual furred humanoids to those appearing otherwise human except for some minor animalistic features such as ears, a tail, or facial features, and those that can prove human heritage with a simple blood test are granted human rights. Netherworld escapees and Fae have no real rights, and they are not considered “persons” as far as the law goes. Some countries have afforded the Fae more rights than they will see in the United States in the foreseeable future. While rarer, talking animals also fall into this category, and feral groupings of such creatures, even those that are pretty harmless to humans, are considered pests that can be exterminated if they become a nuisance. Feral pixies also fall in this category, being faeries of below-human intelligence and small size (about the size of a Barbie/Ken doll with insect-like wings) that breed like rats and have minor magical abilities.
 
Because of the legal status of the Fae, while not technically brothels, so-called glamour clubs can be found in Neverland and other regions of Las Vegas. They utilize weaker faeries such as nymphs as “hostesses” for the entertainment of their guests. Because they are not considered “persons” in the eyes of the law, they can be owned and treated like property, and some receive quite cruel treatment from club management. They are kept under control using enchanted collars that any half-decent street wizard can make. So-called “glamour girls” are even available for sale in stores carrying Faerie-made products to private individuals.
 
Roaming gangs of orcs, orc/human mixes and even the occasional ogre make up a portion of the street gang problem in some of the worst sections of Neverland. They are also involved in dealing drugs, including some imported concoctions from Faerie.

Another background element of the campaign is the region officially known as North Las Vegas but is more commonly known by the locals as Neverland.
 
North Las Vegas boasts a population approaching 250,000 as of 2018, but a significant portion of that population is inhuman: former denizens of Faerie, renegades from one of the various Netherworlds, at least one coterie of vampires, scattered Fae-blooded humans, Witchbreed (the campaign's name for mutants) and also an assortment of shamans, sorcerers and wizards. It is arguably one of the largest concentrations of such beings in the United States, estimated at one or two percent of the total population (although it could be higher). While there are a very few powerful enough to participate in the Superhuman World, most are not that powerful and even many of the most powerful among them don’t bother. Neverland is also a hodgepodge of the rich and well-off mixed with a few slums where the local police avoid going unless absolutely necessary, giving PRIMUS control of them and letting them deal with any crimes that occur there.
 
Due to the current state of the law, those who are not of human descent have few rights. Witchbreed and Fae-blooded, being of provable human descent with a simple blood test, receive rights equal to that of an ordinary human. Vampires, while also receiving human rights (and there is even one working for the local branch of PRIMUS), are somewhat more limited in those rights as the laws are still in flux regarding their “undead person” status and they are watched closely. They are also supposed to register their whereabouts in a similar fashion to Megan’s Law, but it is not enforced very heavily. So-called “anthros” range from actual furred humanoids to those appearing otherwise human except for some minor animalistic features such as ears, a tail, or facial features, and those that can prove human heritage with a simple blood test are granted human rights. Netherworld escapees and Fae have no real rights, and they are not considered “persons” as far as the law goes. Some countries have afforded the Fae more rights than they will see in the United States in the foreseeable future. While rarer, talking animals also fall into this category, and feral groupings of such creatures, even those that are pretty harmless to humans, are considered pests that can be exterminated if they become a nuisance. Feral pixies also fall in this category, being faeries of below-human intelligence and small size (about the size of a Barbie/Ken doll with insect-like wings) that breed like rats and have minor magical abilities.
 
Because of the legal status of the Fae, while not technically brothels, so-called glamour clubs can be found in Neverland and other regions of Las Vegas. They utilize weaker faeries such as nymphs as “hostesses” for the entertainment of their guests. Because they are not considered “persons” in the eyes of the law, they can be owned and treated like property, and some receive quite cruel treatment from club management. They are kept under control using enchanted collars that any half-decent street wizard can make. So-called “glamour girls” are even available for sale in stores carrying Faerie-made products to private individuals.
 
Roaming gangs of orcs, orc/human mixes and even the occasional ogre make up a portion of the street gang problem in some of the worst sections of Neverland. They are also involved in dealing drugs, including some imported concoctions from Faerie.

I think Balabanto set part of the King scenario he published in Vegas.
Sadly he is no longer around to ask.

The Gamble can easily work with/for Card Shark. There just has to have more than two members. So beyond Deathdealer and The One Arm Bandit there is...
 
Blackjack: A mutant with the ability to solidify shadows.
 
Lady Luck: A provocative female martial artist who may or may not have luck powers.
 
Crapshoot: An assassin using 'explosive' dice (gas expelling die, exploding die, entangle die, ECT...).
 
(Of course, your free to add or remove members, have them more or less attached to Card Shark, ECT...)