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275647 Posts in 27717 Topics by 4283 Members Latest Member: - otto Most online today: 69 - most online ever: 429 (November 03, 2007, 04:35:43 AM)
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Author Topic: octaNe - Boys of Roswell High  (Read 883 times)
Judd
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Posts: 1641

Please call me Judd.


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« on: November 05, 2002, 07:55:17 PM »

The GM who runs our intense Unknown Armies game needed a well-deserved break.  A buddy of the group's came in from out of town.  I posted three game trailers for the group to choose from.

Jim said that he wanted to play the octaNe game I proposed so badly that his eyes were bleeding.  Because one of the students in the after-school program I run made a gun-related threat to another student I didn't sleep last night.

Groggy but strangely lucid, high on Pepsi and Chai we got together and read through the rules.

Put in a Johnny Cash CD, let's rock and roll:

Principal Chokechilde met The Sub with No Name in front of the school at high noon, "Thank you for filling in like this at such short notice.  I have your paperwork here somewhere...what is your name again?"

The Sub croaked, "Most people just call me sir."

"You and these boys will get along just fine.  They're refuse and won't amount to much of anything but its your job to hold their hands for the next three hours."

Meanwhile one of the detention subjects, The Goof-off Class Clown who Fights Crime,  leaned out of the window to yell at the passing football team, running their rounds, "Keeping running boys, I'll see you on the next lap."

"Fuck you, Beason, your mom made your lame-ass costume."

"Dude, that is a secret."

The Principal barked an order to sit.  The Nerdy Mutant with Uncontrolled Powers told the Principal, "I'm already sitting."

"SIT!"

"But I'm already sitting."

"Then sit up straight," the Principal cleared his throat, "Your actions demand consequences and this Saturday detention is the consequence.  This is your teacher.  He'll be watching you.  Pay him respect, call him sir.  They're all yours, you deserve each other."

The Half-Alien Goth Outcastsitting in the back, "Yes, mein fuhrer."

"Do you want a Sunday detention too?  I've been trying to get the PTA to approve that for ages now.  You want it?"  with that he left.

"Sunday detention?  I wouldn't have to go to chruch.  Rush away, so you can tee off.  What's his handicap up to now, anyways?" the Goof-Off Class Clown Who Fights Crime said as Chokechilde walked away.

"Who are you again?"

"I'm the sub," and his duster came off to reveal a gun holster, slung low for a fast draw.

"Dude, why do you need a gun?"

"It is Saturday detention," the Sub replied calmly.

The Punk Car Thief with a Heart of Gold nodded in agreement, understanding.

The news seemed odd and the TV went on the fritz.  They tried to fix it.

Cecil "Damien" Wilson, Half-Alien Goth Outcast, tried to sneak past the Sub to get out a window.  The Mutant took apart his desk.  The Goof-off forged a pass and made for a bathroom, where he promptly went out a window.

What was the Punk Car Thief doing again?

The clouds are red, as if someone put a red lense over the sun.

Knock at the door.

[A player actually said, "Brains!" and got a chip.  Zombie football players is exactly where I was going.]

A football player in full outfit, asking if Wilson could come out to the fields, the coach was demanding to see him.  The Sub steps up, "Shut the hell up."
 
The jock steps back, intimidated despite the fact that this particular linemen is a zombie.

"Damn.  Zombies," and the sub takes out his ruler, knocks the zombie down at the knees, and sinks the ends into the soft brain under the skull.  Damien tried to hit the undead beast with a sock filled with quarters but just managed to get trapped under the corpse's weight.

"Wilson, get out from under the zombie.  That's dangerous.  Get in the detention room as it appears to be zombie-free and I am in charge of your well-being," the Sub said.

"Zombie-free?  More like a zombie smorgasborg!"

Meeting outside the window, they made for the cars...


Our heroes met and/or fought a giant scorpion, a non-denominational priestly motorcycle game called the Holy Rollers with Rabbis, Lutheran ministers, Catholic priests and a Buddhist Monk among their number.  They met a former business-man prophet and White Supremecist Elvis Impersonators.  

It all ended with a rock concert at Area 51.

A nice respite from the world of lost insanity, post-modern magic and modern horror.


It was good stuff and exactly what we needed.

I'm going to sleep.

Good night.[/b]
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Jared A. Sorensen
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Posts: 1463

Darksided


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« Reply #1 on: November 06, 2002, 06:57:30 AM »

Sounds like a fun game. :) How'd the game go as far as rules and stuff? Any problems/questions/comments?
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jared a. sorensen / www.memento-mori.com
Judd
Member

Posts: 1641

Please call me Judd.


WWW
« Reply #2 on: November 06, 2002, 08:01:54 AM »

I think everyone at the table had been a GM of some kind at some point and that made things easier.  When they gained total control, they knew what to do with it.  I think my pacing was a bit too slow, I would've liked it to have been a bit faster.

It did its job and now one of my gamers is really psyched to download your pulp octaNe plug in and I am intrigued by Blood & Steel.

The mechanic is incredibly easy, roll and go, very little to remember, allowing us to concentrate on story.

One of the gamers borrowed my duct-taped and screwed together copy.  Overall, a fun night.
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