Matt Frisbee

Re: Superhero Legal Disclaimers How about this one? "I am a registered metahuman. Surrender now and you will be remanded to police custody at the first opportunity. If you resist, I will use any means I deem necessary to safeguard the public, up to and including lethal force. This is your only warning." It's short and sweet, yet to the point. Matt "No-small-talk" Frisbee

Re: Genre-crossover nightmares John Carter of Mars Attacks! -- Barsoom meets Earth (and it's not pretty). Forbidden Planet of the Apes -- [saucy comment on apes in lingerie censored] The Man with One Red Shoe Diaries Postcards from the Edge of Tomorrow Rumors of War of the Worlds We Were Toy Soldiers Red Dawn of the Dead Again Matt "Mr. Moo" Frisbee

Re: Best and most Pointless superbattle of all time Hulk vs. The Quintronic Man Franklin Richards vs. Doctor Doom Moon Knight's Frenchie vs. Killer Shrike Dazzler vs. Doctor Doom Batman (TAS) vs. Baby Dahl Matt "Just-happened-to-have-a-couple-of-pennies" Frisbee

Re: Your "2007" Pet Gaming Projects Mid-year update: New Knights of Kambria wrapped up in the spring (most of the characters died in an unfortunate crawl following the Spider Keep adventure. Current Project: Developing my historic fantasy game Armageddon 1946. Current playtest rules are using the FUDGE system and are meeting with generally good reviews. I am hoping to have the published game on the market before the end of next year. Unlike Steve, I'm a slower typist and still have my day job to consider. Matt "The-determined-game-designer-with-no-experience" Frisbee

Re: Cool Guns for your Games (From Another Thread Department:) Now THIS is what I call a weapon!

Re: [Video] Nazi Robot Attack Okay -- wait a minute, here. There are people complaining about anachronisms in a computer graphic video about giant 1943 robots? To quote Slappy Squirrel: "Now that's comedy!" Matt "Still-misses-the-old-rodent" Frisbee

Re: Armageddon 1946 To make up for the confusion -- here's some more fiction! “The Home Front” I suppressed a shiver as I hunkered down in my field jacket. Spring comes late to the Nevada High Country, and any daytime warmth is quickly lost after sunset. My partner’s teeth chattered for a second or two before he clamped down on them with the force of will. Although there was no moon, the vault of millions of stars above gave my eyes enough light to see his shoulders quake, his arms curled about him in a vain attempt at retaining warmth. I allowed myself a grim smile at his discomfort. It reminded me of a mission in Finland a few years back, when I nearly froze off parts of my anatomy with some half-cocked Oxford professor who was an expert in the mythology there. I didn’t think he’d be worth spit in a fight, but I was gladly mistaken when we ran into a Nazi SDG paranormal operations team. He’d cut his teeth in the Great War as a lad, he’d said, which was much worse than this. “Worse than this”? The Great War may have been a waking nightmare to those who fought in it, but at least reality wasn’t threatening to come apart at the seams courtesy of the whims of a small group of madmen. Monsters, mythical beasts, spirits, ghosts and magic were all conspiring to tear the very fabric of reality to shreds and plunge the world into a Second Dark Age that would leave mankind powerless before those who could bend those forces to their will. Considering that both the major players on the other side were practicing genocide in one form or another, well, that didn’t bode well for the rest of us. I shrugged myself back to the present and hazarded a look through the field glasses at the expanse of plain before me. I methodically searched the grounds until I found what I was looking for – a line of figures about three miles distant, plodding toward the bottom of a shallow depression. “Bingo,” I breathed to my partner, “The party’s arrived.” I passed the glasses to him and he had a look. While he did, I checked my watch’s luminescent dial and saw that it was an hour shy of midnight. He handed the glasses back to me. “Their footsteps shake the Foundations of the Earth,” he said softly with a note of concern, “They channel a primal force and gather it upon sacred stone.” He began to rise. “We must hurry.” In the distance, a lone coyote howled, its voice carrying across the great emptiness far too clearly. I was already on my feet, the hair on the back of my neck prickling. I quickly looked around, searching the scrub and boulders for signs of movement. Even without the moon, there were still shadows, too many places for someone to hide. Over the past few years, I learned to rely on my instincts and senses far more than I used to, mainly because both had become disturbingly acute. At the edge of my hearing, I caught it – the creak of wood and a rasp of leather. And then I on top of my partner, driving him to the ground as I heard the snap of a bowstring and the whistling flight of an arrow pass through the space where I had just been standing. Even as I began to rise, I heard the shaft of the projectile snap on hard stone and saw its flint arrowhead spark from the impact in the darkness My trench knife cleared its sheath with a metallic hiss as I spun to charge my attacker. Although my service pistol rode in its holster on my belt, I didn’t dare use it for fear of its report carrying to the ears of the dancers on the plain below. I stayed low and threw my body from side to side as I ran over the jumbled rocks to throw off the archer’s aim. The second arrow creased my left upper arm, neatly laying open both the cloth of my jacket and shirt along with the skin and flesh beneath. And then I was on him, driving the point of my knife between his ribs with my right hand while smothering his cry of pain with my left forearm. He crashed down onto the unforgiving terrain with me on top of him. I heard the ugly plastic pop of a skull fracture above the clatter of his dropped bow and quiver. He was out and dying, but I made sure by slashing his throat. His blood steamed in the cold, dry air as it covered the stones beneath him. His proud features were disturbingly peaceful in the cold starlight, framed by hair as dark as a moonlight shadow. The man was disturbingly gaunt, however, with numerous scars on his arms and face. My practiced eye registered that most appeared to be self-inflicted. “Self-immolation?” I breathed in disgust, as I checked his hands. My eyes widened in shock as I saw the hard ridge of scar tissue across each palm. “Blood ritual,” I growled as I my eyes narrowed. I arose, pausing to wipe the blood from the blade of my knife on his linen shirt, only to notice that my initial knife thrust hadn’t penetrated his shirt. I noticed its simple cut and the many embroidered symbols along the bottom and sleeves. “A Ghost Shirt,” commented my partner as he surveyed the dead man with a critical eye, “They’re magically empowered to be proof against all lethal weapons.” I shook my head. “Like hell,” I said, “Look a little closer at those symbols – they’re Aztec pictograms.” I stepped past him and started to pick my way toward the plain. “He was a blood puppet?” asked my partner as he caught up with me. I nodded. “That would mean,” he continued, “the presence of a Nagual.” I shuddered in revulsion at the word. Nagual are the Mexican equivalent of vampires, witches and lycanthropes all in one. They prey upon the innocent, feasting on blood and using fear to manipulate others into doing their wishes. They travel the world in the guise of animals to hide their true natures from others. The OSS had fielded rumors the year we entered the war that the Nazis had attempted to recruit Mexican support against the United States. When the Mexican government said no, there were reports of possible SDG operations near known Aztec archeological sites, though none were ever confirmed. I made a face of disgust. “Wouldn’t it just?” I said and spat. “That damned coyote was probably it in disguise!” “That would also explain the self-immolation wounds,” my partner commented, “they cover up its bite marks, and the shock value of those wounds on the neighbors would tend to isolate those being victimized.” “All of the victims are probably just like our attacker,” I said, reaching the spot on the gravel road where our car was parked, “They’re being manipulated by that thing to Ghost Dance.” We reached the car. “All the more need to hurry,” my partner said, “Once they start the dance, we’ll have more than just the Nagual to handle.” I paused just long enough to fetch a pair of pump shotguns from the trunk and load them up with multi-purpose paranormal threat shells – a mix of silver shot, garlic, rock salt and splinters of sandalwood. I also replaced my combat knife for an argent blade. My partner tossed off his coat, donning a silk robe embroidered with mystic symbols along the edges and a large, ornate compass and square symbol in silver and gold thread on the back. He also collected a small black leather case with polished brass hinges and latches, and slipped it into one of the robe’s pockets. The old Dodge lumbered down the road, kicking up a huge rooster tail of dust as I raced toward the depression where the Ghost Dancers had assembled. I ran with the lights off, partly not wanting to spoil my night vision for the battle to come, and partly in the vain hope that none of the dancers would see us coming. I pulled up just short of the rim of the bowl, grabbed one of the shotguns and hustled the rest of the way on foot. My partner was just a couple of steps behind. I had just cleared the lip when a chorus of bowstrings sounded below me. I threw myself prone as the volley of arrows whistled over me. I quickly crawled behind a rock and chambered a round in the shotgun. “Put the bows down and nobody gets hurt!” I shouted. My challenge was answered by another volley of arrows that snapped and clattered around me. To my right, I heard a chanting that rose and fell in a comforting rhythm – a spell for protection from projectiles, no doubt. My happiness was short-lived, however, as the star of the show chose that moment to attack me. I don’t particularly like snakes to begin with, but I especially don’t like snakes that are as big as me with poison fangs as long as my middle finger in a maw big enough to swallow my head. The Nagual’s first strike missed by an inch as I desperately rolled out of the way. Its second strike came even more quickly and missed my right shoulder by even less. Unfortunately for me, the strike was a feint, and I found my legs caught in the monster’s constricting coils. “MINE!” The hiss was a roar of triumph as I desperately tried to bring the shotgun to bear. Fangs barred, its head blurred toward me for the killing strike. Suddenly, the ground beneath me lurched, throwing me out of the path of the strike by the finest of margins. Then, the shotgun in my hands roared, blowing a fist-sized chunk out of the serpent’s flank. The monster convulsed in agony, and I screamed in turn as its coils snapped both of my legs like kindling. I worked the slide on the shotgun in full desperation, firing blind in my pain as that vise clamped tighter. Mercifully, I passed out. The moon was just starting to rise when I awoke. My partner was applying splints to my mutilated legs while an ancient medicine man chanted softly next to me. He bore the scars of the Nagual, but his face was peaceful and his trembling touch gentle. Whether it was shock or the medicine man’s magic, my legs were comfortably numb. My partner looked concerned. “That’s the best I can do for now,” he said. “You did great,” I said with hint of a smile. “You never told me you were a terramancer.” “Oh, come on!” he exclaimed, “What kind of Freemason would I be if couldn’t command stone?” Broken legs and all, I still managed a chuckle. Even the medicine man managed a toothless grin at that.

Re: Armageddon 1946 In case you missed it: The thread remains alive -- my friends and I have come to a compromise on the subject of discussion of the game universe for Armageddon 1946. Provided Steve and company doesn't pull the plug here, I will continue to post here concerning the history and elements of the campaign universe. I might even have time for some fiction. At this point, nothing is set in stone, so onward and upward! Matt "Keepin'-'em-flying" Frisbee

Re: Armageddon 1946 As a further note, I'm a "right tool for the job" sort of guy, which means I'll design a game system to fit the genre. But as I said, if it works out, the game will be about half sourcebook and half system a la Castle Faulkenstein. Matt "Bang-those-keys" Frisbee

Re: Armageddon 1946 Friends and I have come to a compromise on this disclosure issue. So please ignore previous post here. Onward and upward! Hopefully, I'll have some time to do some Hero System conversions. Matt "Both-hands-now" Frisbee

Re: Armageddon 1946

Re: My Cool Color Hudson City Map I've said it before and I'll say it again -- I'll pay cash money for a big street map of Hudson City! I feel better now -- though not as good as I would with a big street map of Hudson City in my hands! Matt "It-cannot-be-said-enough" Frisbee

Re: WWYCD - with a twist!: Imbalance of Power What a twist!

Re: Armageddon 1946 Tentative Timeline for Armageddon 1946 (Part I) DISCLAIMER: I’m not claiming any of this is true, so please don’t try to hang me from a sour apple tree if something here upsets you. I’m just trying to make an interesting game universe, okay? Early January 1933 Adolf Hitler, reeling from the Nazi Party’s losses in the Reichstag elections the previous month, meets with the famous psychic Erik Jan Hanussen at the Hotel Kaiserhof in Berlin. Hanussen introduces Hitler to a reputed Teutonic sorcerer, Karl Drakkald. Allied files on the meeting are sketchy, but it is believed that some sort of deal is struck between the three for the ascension of the Nazi leader. On January 30th, 1933, he becomes Reichschancellor against all odds. Late January 1933 Japanese Emperor Hirohito has a series of vivid dreams where he is visited by the sun goddess Amaterasu. She tells him that he will soon lead his people in an epic struggle and that he must make peace with the oni of ancient legend if the Japanese people are to win that struggle. In each dream, he is taught what he must do to bring the oni onto the side of mankind. Allied experts believe Hirohito consults with many monks over the next few weeks before deciding to proceed as he has been instructed. February 27, 1933 Erik Jan Hanussen opens his pagan mystic hall in Berlin and claims to have a vision, seeing a “great house in flames.” Hours later, the Reichstag is gutted by a mysterious fire that is blamed on German Communists and paves the way for Hitler to take complete control of the German government and suspend all civil liberties a day later. Allied experts believe that it is the first genuine demonstration of Karl Drakkald’s pyromancery, with Hanussen’s “prediction” being staged to bring Hitler’s allies to heel. March 3, 1933 A powerful earthquake and tsunami strikes the northern Japanese island of Honshu, killing three thousand people. Allied experts believe it is actually a sacrifice of sorts, part of the price of the bargain Emperor Hirohito has made in order to make peace with the oni. Though deeply saddened by the loss of life, the Emperor continues the rituals. March 20, 1933 The first Nazi concentration camp in Dachau, is completed. Several buildings are set aside for use by Karl Drakkald and his recently selected initiates for the study of Teutonic magic, alchemy and the Black Arts. According to British Paranormal Intelligence, the first blood sacrifice of prisoners in the camp occurs before the end of year. May 2, 1933 The Loch Ness Monster is sighted for the first time in the modern era. (Seventh Century manuscripts claim Saint Columba saved the life of a Pict from the beast around 565 AD.) British Paranormal intelligence (formed several years later) would point to the incident as the first indication that the ethereal barriers between the physical plane of existence and the spirit world were eroding. July 20, 1933 Vice-Chancellor of Germany Franz von Papen and Vatican Cardinal Eugenio Pacelli (who would later become Pope Pius XII) sign a concordat on behalf of their respective nations. It is believed by Allied Intelligence (though kept a closely guarded secret) that this concordat allows the Nazis to secretly funnel large sums of money to extraterritorial interests, including the ill-fated Easter Island Expedition some years later. December 5, 1933 The 21st Amendment to the United States Constitution, repealing Prohibition, goes into effect. This marks the beginning of the end of the American gangster era, considered the greatest threat to Freemason control of the government since its founding. According to American Intelligence, Elders in the organization begin reporting disturbances in the “Foundations of the World” by year’s end. March 1, 1934 Japanese forces take control of Manchuria, renaming it Manchukuo. Under the Emperor’s direction, rituals at several mystic sites in the area are conducted to free the spirits imprisoned there. Massacres of innocent Chinese attributed to the Japanese army are in fact perpetrated by the freed spirits as they take vengeance. June 29-30, 1934 “The Night of the Long Knives” occurs in Germany as Hitler purges the Strumabteilung (SA) of political rivals. Though dozens are reported dead due to violence in the public media, many more are herded off to Dachau, where they become the victims of the increasingly vile sorceries of Karl Drakkald. August 2, 1934 Adolf Hitler becomes Fuehrer, becoming head of state in addition to Chancellor. Secretly, he forms the Spiezell Dientz Gruppe (SDG) as a cover organization for paranormal action and research with Hanussen as its head of operations and Drakkald as the head of research. More to come later... Matt

Re: Armageddon 1946 Unfortunately for the rest of the world (including the Third Reich) The Fueher is still quite alive but genuinely crazy. That's because of the magic energy propping up his health is exacting a heavy toll on his sanity. The assassination attempt by Rommel and company never happened due to the success of the paranormal infusion into the armies of Reich. However, a special unit full of vampires is an idea to log for future reference. You really want to get sick? How about a group of Loup Garou as French Resistance fighters? Hmmmm.... Matt

Re: Armageddon 1946

Re: Armageddon 1946 I think I remember that one -- it might have been in the high school library. Is that the one with a werewolf (who had a polarized flashlight to induce his transformation) and a witch? Plus they channeled a dead French mathematician through the witch's familiar (a black cat) to rescue their daughter from hell or something like that? Otherwise, thanks for the suggestion. Matt

Re: Armageddon 1946 I am completely unfamiliar with this particular mythos, but it sounds intriguing. I'll have to check it out! Thanks for the link and information. Matt

Re: Armageddon 1946 Short and sweet, your god is not a Nazi in my book. As for the rest, I stand corrected and apologize for the inference. It is probably my complete lack of understanding of the mythology (or reality, if you will) of the area. While aiming for some level of accuracy, I also don't feel the need to be completely bound by the conventions of history as well, if the conventions in question get in the way of a good story. That being said, I do appreciate the correction. I like getting things right where I can, though I'm sure there will be uncountable other factual errors as I work my way through this. Matt

Re: Armageddon 1946 I hadn't thought about alchemy as being one of the emergent schools of the new era of magic. (More research necessary here.) However, as I mentioned above, I would think that employers of magic would not make it an "assembly line" affair. Cavorting with mystic beings and energies is still a dangerous business that demands a price of those who dare to harness them. The Nazis are paying the price with the sacrifice of prisoners and innocent civilians in various dark rituals. The Japanese understand the price that must be paid in dealing with forces best left undisturbed, and have accepted them as only a warrior culture (at that time) can. The Italian situation between Mussolini and the Vatican has resulted in outright civil war there. The Allies were desperate enough in 1943 not to think about the consequences, thus are just starting to realize that the price of their salvation may be higher than they originally thought. All of these points are things I will have to consider in the near future as I firm up the mystical underpinnings of the campaign universe. Thank you for bringing them up! Matt

Re: Armageddon 1946 Here's another story to whet your appetites. Enjoy. “On The Hunt” “I’m having a hard time believing you,” said the co-pilot for the third time. He glanced back at me as I sat in the improvised jump seat in the back of the B-24’s cockpit. Most of his face was covered by his oxygen mask, but the eyes told me enough about his opinion of the mission. I’d seen the type before. The crews that flew these sorts of missions tended not to be ideal military material, having been ostracized from their original units. Before things got weird, they were the sorts to fly reconnaissance missions, where lone planes were both essential but expendable. The men (and women) of these crews tended to resist the implications of my sort of work, but to their credit, even if they thought I was full of it, they still flew the missions anyway. What those who survived thought of my work after a mission, I never heard – the OSS keeps me very busy these days. I nodded in appreciation of his position. “The good news, lieutenant, is that you don’t have to believe any of it to perform your mission,” I replied. I didn’t add that I wasn’t afforded the luxury of disbelief – and very soon, so neither would he. “So,” I continued, “I would appreciate it if you keep your attention where it belongs. Even if we don’t find what I’m looking for here, there are still the Japanese air patrols to worry about.” The captain grunted over her throat mike. “He’s right,” she said while making a slight adjustment to the engine throttle levers in the process. “Look sharp and worry about your part of the mission.” The co-pilot threw her a look, but straightened up in his seat and started paying attention to his flight instruments once again. I stole a glance at the map in my lap. The southeastern shoreline of Mindanao Island dominated the upper left quadrant, while the rest of the Pacific blue was dotted with tiny islands. A crash landing there would be a death sentence as man-eating sharks populate those waters, along with other horrors Japanese Shugenja could summon from the depths. “Cap!” someone yelled over the headphones, “Eight o’clock high! Way up there!” I recognized the voice as belonging to one of the plane’s waist gunners. “I see something gold up there,” he continued, “fluttering like a flag! Whatever it is, it’s big!” I felt the familiar sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. I looked up to meet the pilot’s questioning eyes and nodded. Those eyes turned hard and grim in an instant as the professional pride took over. “Keep an eye on it, Jenkins,” she growled as she and the co-pilot wrestled with their control yokes, “we’re coming around for a look.” The airframe creaked and popped with the stresses of that turn as the engines’ pitch climbed nearly an octave in response to the actions of the crew. I watched a swatch of naked sunlight traverse the interior of the cockpit as the plane came around. “Do you see it?” asked Jenkins as the plane’s wings leveled. The nose came up and the engines began to scream in protest as the bomber clawed for more altitude. “Yeah,” I said suddenly, “We see it, Jenkins.” Still far away, the flash of gold against the deep purple of the high altitude sky was unmistakable. The great body of the thing rippled like an immense pennant, slowly undulating across the sky. “Tatsu,” I breathed as one might mutter a curse. This was the monster that had decimated a squadron of B-29’s just last month – shredding their airframes with glittering claws and smashing their wings with its immense tail. “A dragon?” asked the co-pilot incredulously, “I don’t believe it!” “It sees us,” said the pilot in a slightly dreamy voice, “It knows we’re here.” Suddenly, I realized that its dance in the sky had some sort of mesmerizing quality. The creature, both beautiful and terrible, was now uncomfortably close, its features filling the flight deck windows from side to side. “CAPTAIN!” I yelled, “Snap out of it, or we’re dead!” She shuddered, seeming to tear her gaze away from it reluctantly, panic briefly touching her motions as she realized my warning was true. The co-pilot was frozen in place, arms slack at his sides. I slapped at my harness buckle and lunged to his position reaching past him for the weapon triggers. This particular B-24 had been selected for this mission because of its refitting for anti-shipping missions. The space in the nose of the plane usually reserved for the bombardier was packed with a brace of twenty-millimeter cannon and .50-caliber machine guns. The cannon rounds were high-explosives while the machine guns were hurling jade-core rounds tipped with diamond penetrators. Nobody knew if they would work. “Roll into it!” I yelled, feeling faint. I realized that I had lost my oxygen mask in my desperation, but I had no time to retrieve it. The world was already starting to gray out due to my lack of oxygen. I felt the plane slew and suddenly, it was right there in front of me. It took all the will I had left to press the trigger. The recoil of the fusillade was like running into a brick wall. The plane bucked and shuddered as my hand convulsed on the trigger grip like a drowning man’s hand on the blade of sword. And suddenly, it was gone, and so was my air, I distantly felt my body collapse to the floor as the world faded to black. I woke up coughing on stale oxygen tank air, my throat dry and my lungs burning. The co-pilot was hunched over me, pressing the mask of the portable bottle to my face. I reached up and grabbed it. He nodded at me and then climbed back into his seat, leaving me to fend for myself. It was several minutes before I felt like sitting up. I eventually found my own mask and put it back on as I crawled back into the jump seat. “Did it work?” I asked. “Not sure,” replied the pilot, “the plane stalled out while you were firing and we lost sight of it while I was recovering it.” The plane seemed to have an additional vibration since I passed out. “Jenkins says it took about two yards off the end of the starboard wing before it went, so who knows?” I nodded in agreement. “Thanks for taking the mission.” The captain simply grunted and turned her full attention to her instruments. I sighed into the mask and closed my eyes. “Maybe next time, tatsu,” I said to nobody.

Re: Armageddon 1946

Re: Armageddon 1946 I'm still working on which Indian Nations have the magical "oomph" to make America capable of standing with the Allies, though I imagined that one tribe's abilities to "spirit walk" would allow America to offer the ability to conduct commando raids deep in enemy territory (bypassing the powerful protection wards and guardian spirits). The Inuit magics would allow some defense for the various Allied navies, considering that the Atlanteans have suddenly reappeared... Yeah, I'm evil. Matt Frisbee

Re: Armageddon 1946

Re: Armageddon 1946 Actually, I hadn't really considered it until you mentioned it. (Oops!) A quick web search and some genre contemplation has lead me to conclude that while the preliminary work at atomic fission has been completed, more pressing issues (like finding technological solutions to supernatural problems that the average soldier can employ) are occupying Allied Scientists. For those of you who are historical fanatics, I've decided that the first Teutonic wartime rituals were conducted by the Nazis in mid-1942, while the first Japanese use of Kami occurs early in 1943. The reason the war has dragged on so long is that the Axis powers turned a corner with their use of the supernatural during 1943 and litterally pushed the Allies to the brink of defeat before the Allies found their own supernatural resources to counter the new challenges. -- Matt "Making-this-up-as-I-go-so-keep-the-questions-coming" Frisbee