Scott Lynch
First Post
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
April 1, 2003: Cryptosnark Games is pleased to announce its acquisition of the exclusive license for the upcoming CHARLES DICKENS' BLEAK HOUSE d20 roleplaying game.
"We're just proud as all get-out to be the first to bring authentic 19th century Dickens-Punk thrills to the d20 system," said Cryptosnark director, editor, chief designer, and comptroller Scott Lynch, taking heavy gulps from a mug of what he claimed was his "medicine."
When pressed for comment, Lynch said, "Have you ever wanted to play a human scrivener names Squeezle Rumplehutch? Or maybe a human dry goods merchant named Fenton Gimblehooch? Or maybe a gouty human bail bondsman named Wackford Twizzdaggit Crumplesqueerp? Well, have we got a deal for you. It's not just Dickens. It's Dickens-Punk, and it's d20."
When asked for clarification, Lynch squinted and replied, "It's Dickens-Punk. That's our word. We made it up. You can't use it. If you want your own Hyphenated-Punk game, make up your own word, smart guy."
Claiming that he had to "take a meeting," Lynch then wandered away for several minutes.
Cryptosnark Games junior office manager Gerhard Schnobble expressed satisfaction with the licensing arrangement and his hopes for a long line of content-rich supplements.
"Somtimes," said Schnobble, looking around to make sure he wasn't overheard, "I d-d-daydream that I'm being hired away by a r-r-real game designer... and he's b-big and strong and handsome... and he d-doesn't h-hit me... or... s-spend all the operating in-income on... bourbon and sh-shotgun shells..."
"Oh, and you can only play humans, and they're all 1st level, and they all die at the age of 36 from chronic arthritis and coal smoke poisoning," said Lynch, returning to the room with the characteristic rosy glow of a habitual before-lunch drinker, "and that's what makes it Dickens-Punk. It's like *Dark Sun* without all that damn sand, plus clerks. Lots and lots of clerks. There are clerks all over the place. Plus ninja elf chicks with gigantic missile-hooters, too. I mean, the art department always has these other ideas, but that's what we always end up with. Just copious heaps of waifish leather vixens with grain-silo gazongas." Lynch giggled. "If they want to get paid, that is."
"Could you maybe sneak in some water for me after you leave?" whispered Schnobble while his boss was distracted by his reverie. "I haven't had any for about a week now, and I c-can't... get out of this chair... there are seismic sensors... and dogs..."
Further commentary from Schnobble was cut off by a sudden outburst of half-sane cackling from Lynch.
"The bar has been raised, Ryan Dancey," he mused, swirling his finger in the frothy amber liquid within his mug. "We raised it. Why didn't Ryan Dancey raise it? Because he's sober, that's why."
*****
http://www.allforart.com/cryptosnarkgames
April 1, 2003: Cryptosnark Games is pleased to announce its acquisition of the exclusive license for the upcoming CHARLES DICKENS' BLEAK HOUSE d20 roleplaying game.
"We're just proud as all get-out to be the first to bring authentic 19th century Dickens-Punk thrills to the d20 system," said Cryptosnark director, editor, chief designer, and comptroller Scott Lynch, taking heavy gulps from a mug of what he claimed was his "medicine."
When pressed for comment, Lynch said, "Have you ever wanted to play a human scrivener names Squeezle Rumplehutch? Or maybe a human dry goods merchant named Fenton Gimblehooch? Or maybe a gouty human bail bondsman named Wackford Twizzdaggit Crumplesqueerp? Well, have we got a deal for you. It's not just Dickens. It's Dickens-Punk, and it's d20."
When asked for clarification, Lynch squinted and replied, "It's Dickens-Punk. That's our word. We made it up. You can't use it. If you want your own Hyphenated-Punk game, make up your own word, smart guy."
Claiming that he had to "take a meeting," Lynch then wandered away for several minutes.
Cryptosnark Games junior office manager Gerhard Schnobble expressed satisfaction with the licensing arrangement and his hopes for a long line of content-rich supplements.
"Somtimes," said Schnobble, looking around to make sure he wasn't overheard, "I d-d-daydream that I'm being hired away by a r-r-real game designer... and he's b-big and strong and handsome... and he d-doesn't h-hit me... or... s-spend all the operating in-income on... bourbon and sh-shotgun shells..."
"Oh, and you can only play humans, and they're all 1st level, and they all die at the age of 36 from chronic arthritis and coal smoke poisoning," said Lynch, returning to the room with the characteristic rosy glow of a habitual before-lunch drinker, "and that's what makes it Dickens-Punk. It's like *Dark Sun* without all that damn sand, plus clerks. Lots and lots of clerks. There are clerks all over the place. Plus ninja elf chicks with gigantic missile-hooters, too. I mean, the art department always has these other ideas, but that's what we always end up with. Just copious heaps of waifish leather vixens with grain-silo gazongas." Lynch giggled. "If they want to get paid, that is."
"Could you maybe sneak in some water for me after you leave?" whispered Schnobble while his boss was distracted by his reverie. "I haven't had any for about a week now, and I c-can't... get out of this chair... there are seismic sensors... and dogs..."
Further commentary from Schnobble was cut off by a sudden outburst of half-sane cackling from Lynch.
"The bar has been raised, Ryan Dancey," he mused, swirling his finger in the frothy amber liquid within his mug. "We raised it. Why didn't Ryan Dancey raise it? Because he's sober, that's why."
*****
http://www.allforart.com/cryptosnarkgames
