[Games] Half-Baked Adventure Concepts
I hate it when I have a mere fragment of an idea, from which I could go in several directions. I should see this as an opportunity, but I freeze up too often when decision-making is involved.
It is high time for me to settle upon my convention scenarios for Necronomicon. So far, I'm on a bit of a Fallout kick. It helps that Digital_Rampage bought me Fallout 4 (it was on sale for 50%+ off or something like that), and it's been eating up so much (too much) of my free time. Two of my ideas are spin-offs of concepts I had for an upcoming Fallout-themed campaign, but I'm in no way obligated to make the Necronomicon one-shots be exactly like whatever I'd run as part of a campaign series.
Warning: It takes me a long time to get to the point here. This is a bit of me "thinking out loud" (or "thinking as I type" or whatever).
THE LONG 15
This is basically pulled from my idea of a way to "kick off" the campaign built around the PCs riding a fully-automated Nuka-Cola delivery truck, while the dangerous Nukatron 3000 delivery robot restocks any Nuka-Cola vending machines it encounters (and woe betide anyone who happens to be between Nukatron 3000 and whatever vending machine it's heading toward, as OF COURSE the safety and deference protocols are first to go). But here the whole action takes place ON the truck, as it happens to pick up a "restock" signal that prompts it to break from its usual route in the NCR (New California Republic) and to hit Route 66 (or, more specifically, I-15) toward New Vegas.
My theme here is a bit of madcap craziness. In the games, the Long 15 is basically a stretch of broken highway that is now traversed far more by caravan trains of pack brahmins and merchants than it is by actual vehicles. But once upon a time, it was part of the "Superhighway of the Future," complete with automated roadside systems meant to cater to long-distance commuters and vacationers. The thing about these nuclear-powered robotic systems is that some of them last an awfully long time ... and now that the Nuka-Cola truck barrels down I-15, its transponder starts waking up automated systems on the way that have lain dormant for nearly 200 years. Oh yeah, and of course it's going to grab the attention of every road ganger, bandit, cannibal, feral ghoul, supermutant, radscorpion, and other hazard along the way.
For the convention, I plan on having a two-part board. One will represent the roadway, done after the style of the old Milton Bradley "Thunder Road" board game; the truck ridden by the PCs will be the one constant, while the scenery (and other vehicles and obstacles) sweep by. I plan to use the old Thunder Road miniature cars, plus some modified Micro Machines, to represent various vehicles and wrecks on the way. Since the PCs can't actually STEER the truck, it's more-or-less just a moving platform for them, about which swarm any mobile attackers.
For closer-in action, presumably the PCs will be spending most of their time on the back of the truck, though I suppose they COULD take their chances leaping over toward one of the other vehicles. For this part, I plan on using my model of the Nuka Cola truck, with the pretense that the trailer door isn't quite closing all the way, so there's need to fend off any crazed attackers who leap onto the trailer from an overpass, or who manage to clamber over from a chasing vehicle. Complications arise in the form of various automated "Superhighway of the Future" features, such as a rocket-boosted mobile car wash gantry, an automated Eat-o-Matic food truck, and so forth. Also, if one is fighting on the back of a moving truck trailer, on occasion it is necessary to DUCK to avoid those low-clearance overpasses and highway signs. (I think here of a mini-game from "Sam and Max Hit the Road.")
The main entertainment factor, I suppose, will be in the wacky complications that happen along the way. My hope is that players will find creative ways to try to turn "hazards" into help, by fast-talking (or outright reprogramming) faulty automatic systems they encounter on the way, rather than just playing this up as a straight running shoot-out with raiders and ghouls. I might make up a few bogus "billboards" and other decorative items to pop up on the table briefly (as they fly by) to add a little more visual interest to the micro-scale board, and to reinforce the "retro-futuristic" theme. I'm also probably going to have to write out a "script" for the events that I can read from, as a lot of this will depend upon narrative flair, and I have a tendency to selectively abbreviate things when I'm under pressure. (I still talk a lot -- an economy of words is never my strong point -- but I have a bad habit of missing the important details in my quasi-summaries.)
Planetarium of the Apes
This is spawned from an idea of mine that I was going to use toward the END of my Fallout campaign, with the idea of having a site based at the Fallout version of Cape Canaveral (which is no longer central to America's space program in this universe, since rocket technology has advanced to the point that you can blast off to space in little Buck-Rogers-style finned rocketships rather than huge multi-stage monstrosities -- and hence a rocket launch facility could be placed just about anywhere).
For the convention, I'm leaving the exact location intentionally vague, and just stating that the PCs find the ruins of a REPCONN Aerospace facility -- specifically, the CAPE (Center for Advanced Primate Experimentation). Why hit such a spot? Because it has lots of Old World technology (presumably), and also because the signs advertise a Jangles the Moon Monkey promotional exhibit, and even two centuries after the bombs dropped, Jangles the Moon Monkey is somehow still a pretty popular character among post-apocalyptic kids, hence there's potential for good resale value if there's some "Jangles" loot to be found.
Of course, there will be primates. Big ones. With guns. I have an AT-43 "Karman" (space ape) army on the cheap -- pre-assembled and pre-painted, even -- so I might as well use it. Although the Karman weapons themselves have a bit of an '80s anime look to the tech, their armor is nicely dinged-up, their clear bubble-dome helmets look very retro, and their vehicles look incredibly retro-futuristic. Besides, I can't help but think of the old Silver Age conceit of "put an ape on the cover, and it'll boost sales!"
My rough idea involves an old Pre-War research project to genetically engineer various types of primate to boost intellect, develop resistance to radiation (for prolonged periods in space), and to enhance ability to use tools made for humans. The primates managed to survive the Great War, and formed a colony of sorts, turning the "Jangles the Moon Monkey" exhibit into a shrine. For a little more of the "Planet of the Apes" spin, I was thinking of having the big threat be that the primates have taken an old booster rocket and loaded some sort of weapon on it (something more fabulous than just a mere nuke) and they intend to destroy human settlements in the region so that they can establish their dominance.
The cliche would be to have the rocket be JUST ABOUT TO LAUNCH as the PCs show up, but too many such amazing coincidences can get to be a bit lame. I suppose I could drop the "Nuka-Cola Delivery Truck" plot device (since it's not necessary to a one-shot) and have it be that the PCs have come here specifically BECAUSE there's been activity visible here, so they're here to investigate (and of course loot if there's any looting to be done). So therefore the reason for the PCs arriving is directly tied to how far along the primates have gotten toward their goal, as they waited until the very last stages to do anything that might alert outsiders to their presence.
But the bottom line is a shoot-fest with lots of armored apes and gratuitous primate jokes. Simple stuff.
CYBERPUNK CONCEPTS
Okay, so it took me a while to get to the point of this post.
I need a third scenario. I'm not going to press for FOUR this year, because I actually have friends running games, and it'd be nice to be available enough to check out at least parts of their games. Also, running four games is exhausting.
Last year, a fellow convention-goer was nice enough to donate to me a few Infinity miniatures. I wasn't really sure of what they were, per se. Later on, I did a bit of image-searching and managed to narrow them down to being a few "Caledonian Volunteers," and one ... uhm ... guy in anime-ish full-body armor with a really cool trenchcoat and a big ol' gun and a sword. Okay, I already forgot what the name was for that guy, but he definitely wasn't part of the same faction. The "Caledonian Volunteers" include some girl in a ridiculously short skirt with a big gun (and the official paint ref makes it look like she's taking part in a wet T-shirt contest, for maximum plausibility as a serious combatant, of course), some merc guy in a much more conservative-looking kilt, and then some more conventional-looking merc/soldier types with knit hats, face masks, fatigues, guns, and lots and lots of pockets and pouches. Anyway, he requested that I run another cyberpunk game.
So, hey, I've got to run some cyberpunk, and I figure I need to use these minis.
One crazy idea that popped into my head was to do something RETRO cyberpunk, and in order to narrow in on a setting, I thought of the old "Max Headroom: 20 Minutes Into the Future" short-lived TV show from the 1980s. It had deliberate anachronisms (police cars that looked like they were from the 1950s, computer terminals with antique typewriter-style keyboards, etc.), but also a number of conventional cyberpunk tropes (multimedia megacorporations controlling the world, a bit of a "Big Brother" vibe, general lawlessness in certain neglected zones, "body banks" where you can get replacement body parts if something goes wrong, glitchy digitization of consciousness, etc.).
But most importantly, it DID NOT have Ghost-in-the-Shell style wireless computing and "everyone has a computer in his or her brain, and hence, anybody can be brain-hacked, remotely, by someone sufficiently skilled." That concept was just a bit too distracting. I mean, in an RPG, if you're in a safehouse and you're really paranoid that some high-level thief is just going to pick his way in through the front door, you BAR THE DOOR (and make sure the hinges are on the inside). Or, good grief, if you're really dedicated, you can spot-weld the thing shut permanently. Sure, if the "thief" has explosives or his own personal army, he can still get in, but it's nothing so simple as just walking up, rolling a "Lockpicking" check and then -- presto -- he's inside.
But in Interface Zero, if you had a "TAP" (and EVERYONE had a "TAP") in your brain, then some "hacker" could theoretically just spend a moment in deep thought and roll some dice and -- presto -- your BRAIN IS HACKED. Your will and perception of reality are up for grabs. That's pretty serious stuff, and very distracting for a group of players.
But the other appealing factor of the world of Max Headroom was its weird dystopian spin on things: It wasn't merely "megacorporations" ruling the world, but specifically MEDIA megacorporations. Televisions were everywhere, and apparently they could monitor the populace (1984-style), and were accompanied by sensors that could discern mood, interest, etc., resulting in instantly-updating reports on viewership, second-by-second, for whatever was being broadcast. Control of the world somehow boiled down to fierce competition between all the networks.
I thought of that, and the "Media" archetype from the old R Talsorian Games Cyberpunk RPG, and imagined a concept: The PCs could be part of a media team that has an evening hour slot that they desperately need to fight to protect in this cutthroat world of ratings. One PC would be the "Face" -- a character who has action-hero looks, but only middling actual action abilities. The other would be the "Pro" -- a character with actual combat skills, but without the good looks or charm of the Face. There might be a third on-camera character -- the "Sidekick" -- who, sadly, operates a high-turnover part of the group. The "story" would be that these are a couple of crime-fighting vigilantes ... though due to contractual obligations, they only operate during this same hour slot. The rest of the team is the support team, and due to the conceits of the program's setup, they are to remain UNSEEN, and the "stars" of the show aren't to acknowledge their presence at all. Support team members are all camera operators (there are multiple camera drones, and it's a team effort to keep them all operating), but they have various specialties. Their job is NOT NECESSARILY to help the protagonists in their stated goal of fighting crime; rather, their job is to do whatever they can to keep the ratings up.
This could lead to cross-purposes, where, say, the heroes are doing too good of a job hiding and sneaking around, and it's going on for too long, and the last commercial break was too recent to call for another one, so it might be advantageous for one of the support team to deliberately get the attention of the bad guys so we can get some action and get the ratings back up.
The show is quasi-live, with a slight delay so the control room can patch together footage and bleep out anything objectionable. (What's "objectionable" would be any mention of brand names that are direct competitors to the show's sponsors, any character's "breaking the 4th wall" to acknowledge the presence of the support crew members, etc.) As such, a support-crew member might have an alternative to "bleep that!" or "switch to drone 3!" -- but acting fast is a necessity.
Particular character actions (if seen on camera) could boost or hurt ratings with various special interest groups. On-camera blood and gore might boost interest with the "Young and Gory" crowd, but knock a permanent dent in the "Wholesome Family Entertainment" crowd (not that anyone really tries hard for them anymore anyway with a live-action show). Product placements can score sponsor support, but if done too ham-handedly, might cause a hit to ratings. And so forth. I haven't really figured out a "system" yet, and I don't know that I want to get TOO complex. To a certain extent, as this is just a one-shot, there may be a certain amount of hand-waving.
...
The problem is that nobody really knows Mad Headroom. Oh, sure, the iconic pop culture character, MOST of my player group has heard of the name. (JHZ hasn't, but since he's only 20, that's not surprising.) But even of those, nobody really knew about the TV show. I tried to explain the premise, but it was soon clear to me that I was running on WAY too long for this to be an "elevator speech." To bill this as a convention game, it needs to be summed up quickly. And invoking the name of "Max Headroom" doesn't really do much of anything (aside from invoking the idea that Max Headroom ought to be personally involved somehow).
I may just have to come up with a quick way to build up the premise without referencing old 1980s TV shows. It could very well BE the universe of Max Headroom (or something very inspired by it), but it won't necessarily be the title of my game scenario, if the name doesn't add anything to player understanding.
TRANQUILITY LANE
Another oddball idea I've had lodged in my head is to do something roughly inspired by the "Tranquility Lane" sequence from the Fallout 3 video game.
The vague visual I had in my head for the Fallout campaign was that at some point when they're riding in the truck for a long stretch and not immediately being attacked by ghouls or raiders or whatever, the employee "break room" section of the trailer has a TV, and it manages to catch a signal other than the ubiquitous "PLEASE STAND BY" that usually shows on post-apocalyptic screens. I imagined a very strange station that at first seemed to be playing advertisements and TV shows from Pre-War eras, but something was off about the content. For instance, there might be a cartoon reminiscent of the Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner cartoons, but it's somehow actually MORE VIOLENT to the point of being a bit disturbing (I'm thinking a bit of those sick "Happy Tree Friends" shorts :P ), but then there are also anachronisms, such as radroaches, radscorpions, etc. The average wastelander might not even blink about such things, but anyone sufficiently educated (e.g., a Vault-Dweller) might realize that, hey, those things didn't EXIST before the Great War. Why in the world would they be in a cartoon?
And/or I imagined some "Leave it to Beaver" style show that ends up taking a dark turn. Say, like, our protagonists somehow get talked into breaking into an old "haunted" house and discover that there's actually an old man with a shotgun living there, and one thing leads to another, and then ... "Gee, Bobby, what are we going to do with the body?" "Well, gee, Peeve, there's a wood-chipper out back." "But, golly, it says right on it never to put your hand in it. I figure that goes for Mr. Whithers, too!" (Cue tinny laugh track.) And so on. No actual on-screen gore, but plenty of IMPLIED, and very dark themes.
But where to go with this?
In Fallout 3, we are introduced to the idea of a virtual reality experiment in one of the Vaults, where the residents/experiment-subjects are in a state of semi-suspension (they have to be, as they've been in this thing for over 200 years) in a simulated town that looks like a sepia-toned world vaguely like some old Leave-it-to-Beaver style TV show, but with sinister undertones as the person in charge of running it has a sadistic streak, and he's gone mad to boot.
I was thinking that perhaps there's some AI in control of a TV station's programming. Perhaps it had an algorithm to generate formulaic animated specials. Perhaps it had the "virtual reality" tech to have a virtual set where it could "film" new episodes of formulaic sappy soap operas, sitcoms, etc. The programming wouldn't be particularly inspired since, hey, it's an AI -- so it would be a lot of mixing-and-matching of previously-defined elements.
I can think of a number of directions in which to take this, depending upon how to get the players involved.
1) Drafted Into Show Business:
I'm a bit wary of this route. It's basically a "capture scenario." The PCs "wake up" in what amounts to a set of a TV show. Either they're in virtual reality pods a la Tranquility Lane, or else it's a physical set (heavily reinforced to prevent "actors" from escaping or destroying the set). The PCs are given parts to play (the "world" can talk with them when they're not "live" on camera), and there are punishments for failing to play along. However, PLAYING ALONG isn't necessarily in the best interests of the PCs, either, as the AI has somehow determined that it gets better "ratings" (I'm borrowing from the Max Headroom concept here, obviously) when things get violent. (This is because there are a bunch of cannibalistic raiders who have taken over the "test community" area where the mood-reading TVs are installed, so their twisted psyche has an undue influence upon the direction of the programming.)
If it's virtual reality, then surviving through one show might just mean switching genres and being in something else (perhaps even a cartoon). However, I need to give the players some sort of clues as to how they can enact a "failsafe" to end the program, to outwit the AI, to break out of the loop, etc. In Fallout 3, the nature of things was that when you're IN the virtual reality, you can only interact with elements of it, so it was necessary for the person in control to actually have (disguised) controls within the virtual reality environment that could be interacted with to change the course of things. So it would be a matter of the PCs discovering said controls and using them ... but if it's an AI doing all the "directing," then such tools might not be necessary. (However, I could imagine some "diagnostic tools" being built into the system for human testers of the program, before it went wacko.)
If it's an actual set, then I'd have less freedom to alter reality or move players from set to set and role to role, and there'd be a certain amount of dead time in between "shows." Getting out might simply be a matter of forming alliances with fellow unwilling "actors," managing to figure out how to "distract" the camera (i.e., have somebody else do something interesting to get its attention) while trying to explore and find a flaw in the set to exploit to get out, etc.
2) Bad Influence:
The episodes might only exist in the rogue AI's "brain," but someone in the group might feel the need to shut this thing down because it's a bad influence on the psyches of anyone watching it in the wasteland.
Or maybe it's a setup like #1, where there are "actors" captured and either physically or virtually put into roles. The PCs might therefore have an incentive to break in and bust things up to rescue the likely-doomed actors/actresses. Doing so might require the PCs to voluntarily enter the show (as per scenario #1), but at least they'd be doing so with a little more knowledge of what's going on, and they might be able to slip in some sort of tools. (E.g., if virtual reality, then someone on the outside could be using hacking skills to try to alter the environment to benefit his/her allies. If it's a "real" set, then someone could sneak in some holdout weapons, tools, or whatever.)
It would be a stretch for me to bill this as "retro-futuristic cyberpunk," I suppose, merely on the basis of the virtual reality and hacking aspects, and I'm not sure those miniatures would really fit in, but it's just another scatterbrained idea I have, which I might try to employ eventually for the campaign, if it's of no use for a one-shot convention scenario.