Ordinarily, i don’t tend to bring a lot of my personal life to the blog beyond the most basic bits.  I’m a “don’t air your dirty laundry in public” sort — very Scottish.  But tonight was a good night at the gaming table and represented a closure of sorts for me.

For 19 years, I’m had one constant at the gaming table — my ex-wife.  Even after our divorce, she was back at the table for a few months before she finally wrote me off after the announcement of my impending fatherhood.  Completely understandable, and completely expected.  She took with her one of my friends of 17 years.  He had been increasingly erratic in his behavior for a while before our divorce, and while I’m sure he would find a way to blame me, it was simply that he was a miserable bugger that wouldn’t shift himself to fix his life.  It seeped into every aspect of his life, including gaming.  He stopped being fun to hang out with years ago (but then again, so had I…)  A few others picked sides, as well, which is also understandable and in one case expected.

This happens from time to time.  You’re gaming group might collapse.  It might not.  In my case, three of the core players and friends — and that’s usually where the strength of a group lies…you have to be friends first — stuck it out.  Tonight was our first gaming session without two people they’d played with for seven or so years, another that was with us for, on and off, three.  Half the group gone.  It could be sad, or we could move on.

We did the latter.  My fiancee joined us as well, her third or fourth time playing.  I crafted a new universe, a new campaign — in this case a Hollow Earth Expedition game set in Shanghai and revolving around a search for a mythical mellified man (google it, it’s a good McGuffin!)  Characters included the unscrupulous archeologist/tomb raider, the vain and slightly stupid playboy adventurer, a mid-level lieutenant in the Green Gang with ties to the Kuomingtang and an 11 year old street urchin thief working for the gangster.

We had dinner (I made a killer pot roast), we chatted about things, then got down to play.  My girl dropped into the group well and they treated her like she had always been there, and the rest of us continued to mess like nothing had happened.  For me, it was a bittersweet to not have the usual gang around, but life changed you, your life, and your group.

This is shaping up to be an excellent campaign and group.  Game on!

…and its Scottish:

A man in Scotland calls his son in London the day before Christmas Eve and says, “I hate to ruin your day but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough”.

“Dad, what are you talking about?'” the son screams.

“We can’t stand the sight of each other any longer”, the father says. “We’re sick of each other and I’m sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Leeds and tell her”.

Frantically, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone, “Like hell they’re getting divorced”, she shouts, “I’ll take care of this”.

She calls Scotland immediately and screams at her father, “You are NOT getting divorced. Don’t do a single thing until I get there. I’m calling my brother back and we’ll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don’t do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?!”and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife.  “Done! They’re coming for Christmas – and they’re paying their own way.”

Thanks to my committee chair, Dr. Andrew Sandoval-Strausz for this.  Slainte!

 

Keep an eye on the blog:  there’s likely to be big news pending regarding the Black Campbell — I’m thinking about getting back into games writing.  First comes the business plan and ideas for how to write, hire talent, market, etc…  With the new electronic media, it’s cheaper to dive in than ever before, and while I don’t expect to get rich, I do hope to be able to put out product people want.

More as it develops.

I found a $20 bottle of single malt scotch from Islay (my favorite region for scotch) — Finlaggan Old Reserve.  It’s a 15 year single malt that has the peaty, salty flavor of most Islay single malts, but it’s much more mellow, with a strong heather honey flavor.  The aftertaste gets more pungent and Islay-like, especially if you breath through your mouth.  The nose is rich, honey with the undertones of the sea and peat.  Color is golden in the glass, honey brown in the bottle.

It’s an excellent dram — not to medicinal, but a bit harder than the Speysides.  Well worth $20, and would have been worth twice that.

The James Bond system has the potential for modernization, bringing the mechanics up to date with other current rules sets, without losing the flavor of the original game.  One of these things is making the weaknesses of a character more important to play.

There is very little incentive to play up weaknesses that a character is built with — for many players of JB:007 it’s simply a means to extract more points to construct the character with.  But character isn’t the numbers — that’s a simulation.  Character is in what the person is, what they do, how they react to things.  You know that Bond is going to do something non-survival enhancing at some point in the story because of a woman…that’s who he is.  You know Rick Grimes in The Walking Dead is going to try to treat people fairly and will not kill the living if he can avoid it…that’s who he is.

Weaknesses more than your attributes or skills, make the character.  There are some mechanics for weakness in the original game, most involving “distraction”, but here’s a good way to get the players to use their weaknesses…

Bribery.  Like most system, if the player has their character act to their weaknesses despite it causing them trouble, give them a hero point.  Example:  Jed is a bad ass.  He’s not afraid of anything, it seems…except heights.  So when the bad guy escapes up a rickety ladder to the top of the building, Jed is all fired up to go after him.  But a few rungs up the ladder, his acrophobia hits him like a hammer.  He gets a point if he looks for another way to chase the bad guy, or if he loses him, he gains two, perhaps.  (It also allows you to design your action sequences with a “railroading” factor — where you can make sure the situation is such that the character doesn’t catch the bad guy to early…)

Clay from The Losers has a tendency to do stupid stuff because of women.  He allows the team to be lead by the nose through Aisha’s hoops.  Why?  He likes her.  It’s just Clay.  albert Gibson in True Lies apparently blew a stakeout at some point because he was getting a blow job; once again, that’s an example of Attraction to Members of the Oppose Sex getting the better of you.  In the first case, the weakness drives the adventure and could lead to multiple instances of gaining a hero point.  Gibson’s screw up might have set the team back badly — that might be worth one or two points, depending on the impact.

Using hero point to play up weaknesses will make you Bond campaign much more rich and fun.

But that’s just my opinion…

One of the rules that my players like in particular from Hollow Earth Expedition is “taking the average” — where the character can take the average expected success of their die automatically.

Example: Jack is an athletics guy who needs to do some fast footwork across a crumbling stone wall to get to the heroine and rescue her.  Jack’s Athletics is a 6…and average expected success of 3.  The wall is wide but in sketchy condition — loose mortar, etc. — He need 3 successes to make it across.  Taking the average, he’s done it but without aplomb.

Now for the average every day stuff — driving a car down a road at normal speeds in normal traffic — you shouldn’t need to roll a test.  In some more important tests, taking the average allow you to succeed at more difficult tasks without risking a crappy die roll.  But that, in itself, can be a problem for players…when you have a high average (remember, HEX difficulties generally range from 1-5), you don’t really fail at anything.  That removes a certain sense of danger and chance from the equation.

So to address this, I propose a few tweaks to make taking the average not so pat.  On tests where there is danger, or something at stake, the character taking the average still get their average benefit, but they roll their dice anyway.  If they roll all failures they botch, even if they succeed.

Example:  Jack takes the average and goes over the wall fast and without risk of falling to his death, but when he rolls his six dice and gets all failures.  The GM decides that at the last moment, the wall collapses and he throws himself to safety on the altar platform that the damsel in distress is on.  Now they are on the 18′ rickety platform, their initial means of escape gone, and the natives below have them surrounded.

Or the GM could have gone with the wall crumbles, even though Jack didn’t fall through any fault of his own.

 

Here’s Hecate, my new 2010 Triumph Street Triple 675cc — Two Brothers V.A.L.E. carbon fibre exhaust, Triumph bar end mirrors, Triumph tail pack that zip on & off…heated handgrips on the horizon.  It was off the showroom floor 3 months and had 221 miles on it when I bought her:

$7100 w/ TTL…

Traded my 2007 Speed Triple 1050cc for her (got $5k for the S3.)  The horsepower’s about 107 — 23hp less, torque about 58 ft/lbs. — about 20 less.  The pipes knock off eight lbs. from the Street Triple’s weight.

 

First off:  I was bored.  Second…I have Netflix, so it’s not like pay specifically for the movie.  Third:  aw, who am I kidding?  I was dumb enough to drop this into my queue and watch it, even having an inkling of what it was about…

Human Centipede is a movie only a German could make. (Actually, I think the director’s Dutch, but I can’t be bothered to learn anything more after the experience)  Two idiotic American girls are wandering the German countryside on a road trip and are off to find a swanky nightclub.  They wind up in the middle of a German forest (which I thought were pretty much destroyed, so let’s assume that these characters walked in circles in a copse of trees in a suburban neighborhood…) in the rain, after their Volkswagen’s tire pops.

Do they change the tire?  Nope.  Do they even attempt it?  Nope.  Mostly they spit vapid “I’m scared but we can’t just sit in our car” lines. They have another driver stop to “help” them, which is mostly some old, fat guy leering and making suggestions as to what they can do together.  So, yeah, I guess they “have” to go look for help.  Do they stay on the road?  Nope.

So they find the massive house of retired surgeon Dr. Haiter — who for years was the preeminent surgeon for detaching Siamese twins.  Now he wants to rectify that by sewing people together into a Siamese triplet.  The girls come looking for a phone and despite the immediate “hey, this guy is halfway to the moon crazy” vibes they get, they go into his house, accept water (roofied) then wind up strapped to gurneys in his torture chamber cum laboratory under the house.

There is a botched escape attempt by one of the characters, a girl of such mind-deading stupidity I actually was shouting insults at the screen.  She gets out of the lab and winds up locked in a bedroom the madman can’t get into.  What does she do? Hide behind the bed and cry.  Does she knock out the window and run screaming her head off into the neighborhood?  Nope.  does she grab the nearest blunt object and whack said rampaging retiree?  Nope.  She waits until he’s gone away to open the window blinds.  Surprise!  Dr. Nutbag’s here!

This leads to her running away, falling into his pool, only to be rescued when the power goes out from the coming rainstorm.  Does he just wait in the dark for her?  Nope.  He actually goes to turn the power on.  So does she run through the window he broke open and get help?  Nope.  She goes back for her friend, drags her through the house (LOUDLY!  ’cause stealth when being hunted..?  Not needed.) and out into the yard, where she gets shot with a tranq dart.

At this point, I’m starting to get into the very misogynistic vibe of the movie, if only because this broad is so implausible stupid that women everywhere, when meeting director Tom Six, should haul off and kick him in the jimmies on general principle.

Long and short of it:  they get their knee ligamants cut soe they have to be on all fours, and sewn — as only the Teutonic crazy would think to do — ass to mouth making a human centipede.  The crazed doctor tried to train them, there’s some contest of wills between the Japanese guy that is the head of this gruesome creation and Haiter; the girls mostly whimper and look sad over the buttocks of the person in front of them. This leads to the inevitable scene where the Japanese guy has to defecate.  You get the picture.

Finally the police arrive, responding at least a week or so after the girls have gone missing and a report of an American girl screaming on the property have been reported.  They send to longhaired, not-overly-bright detectives to the property.  After a bit of “what have you got in the basement, you crazy bastard” “I don’t have to tell you without a warrant” nonsense, Haiter tried to roofie the cops.  Do they pick up on this?  Nope.  Do they buy his line about the syringe of sedative he was planning on using on the cops?  Mostly.  Does one drink the water for the obviously deranged surgeon living in the woods and on whom a report of a screaming girl was filed.  Yup!

They leave for a warrant, in which time the centipede makes its move to escape and in the ensuing fight with Haiter the Japanese “head” stabs Haiter in the leg, bites him, yaddayadda.  The centipede stages its escape attempt with the idiot girl from the last escape attempt miming direction to get out.  This can’t possibly go wrong.  There’s a showdown between Haiter, who can’t stand, and Japanese dude — who until now has showed spunk and incredible presence of mind.  So what does he do?  After a moving soliloquy in Japanese, he slits his own throat to regain his humanity.  (Hey…how ’bout killing the doctor and finding a phone?  Then surgeons could cut you lose from the other two and you would only have a horrible scar on your ass and mental trauma for a lifetime.  That would work, too.)

The cops show up with a warrant a Walther P5s held like the actors haven’t seen an action movie since the 1970s.  (Hey, Rambo, that slide’s going to cut your off-hand thumb to shreds.)  Roofied cop goes down just as he finds the doctor.  Now he has a machinegun, ho ho ho…wrong movie.  Final firefight sequence — dumbass longhair cop one finds dead dumbass cop two.  Does he attentively look for the threat?  Nope.  Does he get gut shot?  Yup.  But not before he blows a tunnel in the doctor’s head.

Annoying can’t escape for toffee chick is thus left stuck sewn in the middle ofthe bodies of the Japanese dude and her dead friend.  The end.  (Possibly the only redeeming feature of this cow-pat of a movie — no happy ending.)

Style: none.  Substance: none.  Don’t bother.  Even for free.

…it looks like I’m to be a father in late spring.  It’s a girl and so far, she’s healthy.  Calling her Sophia, since the girlfriend ruled out Athena.

This should prove interesting.