Desdichado
Hero
Part I: Enigmatic E-mails
I've never played in a campaign where I didn't generate my own character, or even have any input into the generation of the character, but as we geared up for a "d20 Modern" game, that's what we did.
We weren't told much -- just that this would be essentially an "X-Files meets Raiders of the Lost Ark type of campaign and that we'd be using the Shadow Chasers rules with a few things taken from Star Wars and Call of Cthulhu (mostly weapons and other equipment that needs statting.) So with that, my wife and I went to play last Saturday!
We're a relatively large group -- four couples, but of course one was DMing, so it was seven players. We each got a folder including our "dossier" with a character sheet and some background material. I got to play Joshua Carter (we each got our real first names to avoid confusion) -- a Stanford grad in electrical engineering and computer science utilizing the "Smart" hero class up to level 6. Apparently I'd been something of a computer prodigy, and although I played at hacking, my real claim to fame was my successful freelance career as a network and network securities expert in the Bay area.
On June 21st of this last year, I had a strange dream -- the contents of which weren't terribly interesting, but when I woke up, my room was filled with smoke. There was no fire, but a large symbol of some kind had been burned into the carpet of my bedroom.
In early August, I got an e-mail promising answers from someone who's profile said he was from Bangkok. Although the mail delivery date was August 8th, the send date was -- you guessed it -- June 21st. It said that for answers I was to meet at an address in Chicago at 10:00 PM on August 19th. Because my schedule was relatively free, and because I was concerned about what had happened, I decided to book a ticket and took a taxi to the address, which was on the south side of Chicago near the river.
The neighborhood wasn't something I liked to see -- houses were old, extremely run-down and even the cabbie seemed anxious to drop me off and get on his way. He didn't ask if I needed to be picked up.
There were, however, a number of vehicles parked in front of the house, including a Hummer and several rather nice automobiles. I had to supress a chuckle at that -- it didn't seem like the kind of neighborhood to be parking your car.
I find I'm the last to arrive -- six others had also recieved the identical cryptic e-mail as me, and had all agreed to come to this area. Most were from the Chicago area already, but one was from NY. There was Amanda, the martial arts instructor, Julie, the geneticist here in Chicago, Jenny, the sixth-grade teacher, Trisha, the ex-jarhead -- now a consultant on more traditional security, Matt, the anthropology/archeaology professor at Northwestern, Tim, the building contractor and myself, self-proclaimed computer programmer.
A little bit of discussion revealed we were all mysteriously summoned to the house, and without anything else to do, we decided to search it for any clues. It didn't take too long; the house was small. It had no power and no water (as I discovered trying to flush the toilet) and is almost devoid of even furniture. Although there is no sign of recent habitation, there isn't as much dust as we'd expect from an abandoned house. Outside, the back yard is a riot of weeds.
"Hey, check this out!" Amanda shouts to everyone. It appears she's discovered a button under the overhang of the counter on a small "island counter" in the dingy kitchen. When pressed, a small flat square folds upward. Joshua is the only one to recognize it for what it is: a biometric handprint security panel. When he says this, Amanda puts her hand on it.
The panel lights up green for a moment, and then folds away. The entire island counter starts to move now, and fold away, revealing a small hidden staircase, apparently made from recently poured concrete. "Don't you think it odd that that scanner was coded to open to one of our handprints?" I said, but curiousity and a sense of purpose filled the others, and without too much hesitation, we all descended into the starkly flourescently-lit room at the bottom of the staircase. Room may be too generous a word for a 4x4 white-tiled area with what looks like a freight elevator door on the end.
Again, a little searching paid off -- one of the white tiles was slightly loose, and when depressed, the elevator opened. So we all piled in and pushed the down button (obviously.) Upon reaching the bottom, we were surprised to find a fairly nice office with ten workstations. Two door proved to be merely bathrooms (women's was even equipped with a little lounge!) We pulled up a panel in the elevator roof to look into the shaft -- we had descended about 50 ft. from the already underground room. Trisha and some of the others immediately start searching the desks and filing cabinets (all of which are empty of anything but standard office equipment -- but there are a number of cell phones with ear pieces, so we install them to keep in touch while we spread out and continue searching the house) while I sit down at a workstation and start searching the hard drive. It looks like a clean Windows NT install, but after exactly five minutes of searching, a network message pops up telling me that the next clue we will recieve will be at 1:17 AM on the police band.
So, we find a streaming police band channel and leave it on while we continue to search the house. I also find, looking at the Internet Explorer e-mail settings, that apparently I have Matt's computer -- he's been installed as the default user.
Meanwhile, as I'm playing around here, Trisha notices someone standing leaning against a house about two blocks away, apparently looking our direction. Trisha, Amanda, Jenny and Julie all decide to sneak through the darkness to get closer to the man and see what he's up to, while the guys all decide that sneaking up on a stranger is close to assault and want no part of it. Matt does, however, agree to use his tape recorder (he's working on a book) to record the police band message if they're not back yet (it's not about 12:30 AM.)
So, with all the boys staying nice and safe inside the house, the four girls decide to investigate our strange onlooker. Julie stays in the bushes with a pair of night vision goggles (courtesy of Trisha's Hummer's trunk) coordinating via the cell-phones/ear pieces (using a conference call number that Matt had established for work) while Amanda, Jenny and Trisha each split up to approach the guy from different angles. Surprisingly, Jenny -- the elementary school teacher -- seems to be quite a natural at this.
They approach very close -- Amanda gets to only a few feet away -- before he gives any sign of noticing them. Suddenly, the guy spins and whips out a pistol, pointing right at Amanda's spot in the bushes. "That's far enough!" he calls. Trisha rushes up behind him, putting her M-16 (she has a permit) to his head.
"Drop it!" she shouts. "NOW!!" The guy just smiles slightly and then whips around to point the gun at her, but Trisha moves first, bashing him in the face with the stock of her gun, then kicking his knee out hard. Amanda rushes forward, putting him in a jujitsu hold, although she notices a strange light coming from his hands as she runs forward. Jenny also pats the guy down, but doesn't find anything on him other than his holster.
Suddenly the guy says three strange words in a loud voice, and with a flash of light, he disappears, leaving Amanda holding all his clothes. Back in the room downstairs, where the guys are listening on speaker phone to the cell phone conversation, Joshua startles as he hears the strange words. They remind him eerily of chanting he heard in his strange dream the night his carpet was branded.
With nothing left to do and nothing to show for their trouble except a black suit and white shirt (although Julie did find a hair sample that she puts in a plastic envelope for DNA analysis), the girls all come back to the house with just a few minutes to spare before the police band clue is promised. The guys have been listening with half an ear to the police band for the better part of an hour, and it's been relatively quiet so far: a domestic disturbance here and there, someone ran a red light. Right at 1:17 the chatter dies down for a second, then a quick report from Yeager, IL -- a tiny town about an hour/hour-and-a-half south of Chicago. At the Strohbel farm, there's been a strange report of arson -- cult symbols and what not present. Joshua quickly pulls of the Strohbel's on Yahoo! People and gets an address. Another quick search of past news, and I find a few stories from local newspapers "Police Beat" about the arsonist gang "the Dragons" who have burned symbols into various locations around town.
We give the Strohbel's house a quick call, but get a voice mail greeting. "You've reached the Edward, Lynn and Scott Strohbel. We are unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a message." We hang up without leaving a message.
"OK, I think it's time we start talking about why we're here," Jenny says, just a hint of panic tinging her voice.
"I've got a better idea," says Joshua. "Let's talk about it on the way to Yeager."
I've never played in a campaign where I didn't generate my own character, or even have any input into the generation of the character, but as we geared up for a "d20 Modern" game, that's what we did.
We weren't told much -- just that this would be essentially an "X-Files meets Raiders of the Lost Ark type of campaign and that we'd be using the Shadow Chasers rules with a few things taken from Star Wars and Call of Cthulhu (mostly weapons and other equipment that needs statting.) So with that, my wife and I went to play last Saturday!
We're a relatively large group -- four couples, but of course one was DMing, so it was seven players. We each got a folder including our "dossier" with a character sheet and some background material. I got to play Joshua Carter (we each got our real first names to avoid confusion) -- a Stanford grad in electrical engineering and computer science utilizing the "Smart" hero class up to level 6. Apparently I'd been something of a computer prodigy, and although I played at hacking, my real claim to fame was my successful freelance career as a network and network securities expert in the Bay area.
On June 21st of this last year, I had a strange dream -- the contents of which weren't terribly interesting, but when I woke up, my room was filled with smoke. There was no fire, but a large symbol of some kind had been burned into the carpet of my bedroom.
In early August, I got an e-mail promising answers from someone who's profile said he was from Bangkok. Although the mail delivery date was August 8th, the send date was -- you guessed it -- June 21st. It said that for answers I was to meet at an address in Chicago at 10:00 PM on August 19th. Because my schedule was relatively free, and because I was concerned about what had happened, I decided to book a ticket and took a taxi to the address, which was on the south side of Chicago near the river.
The neighborhood wasn't something I liked to see -- houses were old, extremely run-down and even the cabbie seemed anxious to drop me off and get on his way. He didn't ask if I needed to be picked up.
There were, however, a number of vehicles parked in front of the house, including a Hummer and several rather nice automobiles. I had to supress a chuckle at that -- it didn't seem like the kind of neighborhood to be parking your car.
I find I'm the last to arrive -- six others had also recieved the identical cryptic e-mail as me, and had all agreed to come to this area. Most were from the Chicago area already, but one was from NY. There was Amanda, the martial arts instructor, Julie, the geneticist here in Chicago, Jenny, the sixth-grade teacher, Trisha, the ex-jarhead -- now a consultant on more traditional security, Matt, the anthropology/archeaology professor at Northwestern, Tim, the building contractor and myself, self-proclaimed computer programmer.
A little bit of discussion revealed we were all mysteriously summoned to the house, and without anything else to do, we decided to search it for any clues. It didn't take too long; the house was small. It had no power and no water (as I discovered trying to flush the toilet) and is almost devoid of even furniture. Although there is no sign of recent habitation, there isn't as much dust as we'd expect from an abandoned house. Outside, the back yard is a riot of weeds.
"Hey, check this out!" Amanda shouts to everyone. It appears she's discovered a button under the overhang of the counter on a small "island counter" in the dingy kitchen. When pressed, a small flat square folds upward. Joshua is the only one to recognize it for what it is: a biometric handprint security panel. When he says this, Amanda puts her hand on it.
The panel lights up green for a moment, and then folds away. The entire island counter starts to move now, and fold away, revealing a small hidden staircase, apparently made from recently poured concrete. "Don't you think it odd that that scanner was coded to open to one of our handprints?" I said, but curiousity and a sense of purpose filled the others, and without too much hesitation, we all descended into the starkly flourescently-lit room at the bottom of the staircase. Room may be too generous a word for a 4x4 white-tiled area with what looks like a freight elevator door on the end.
Again, a little searching paid off -- one of the white tiles was slightly loose, and when depressed, the elevator opened. So we all piled in and pushed the down button (obviously.) Upon reaching the bottom, we were surprised to find a fairly nice office with ten workstations. Two door proved to be merely bathrooms (women's was even equipped with a little lounge!) We pulled up a panel in the elevator roof to look into the shaft -- we had descended about 50 ft. from the already underground room. Trisha and some of the others immediately start searching the desks and filing cabinets (all of which are empty of anything but standard office equipment -- but there are a number of cell phones with ear pieces, so we install them to keep in touch while we spread out and continue searching the house) while I sit down at a workstation and start searching the hard drive. It looks like a clean Windows NT install, but after exactly five minutes of searching, a network message pops up telling me that the next clue we will recieve will be at 1:17 AM on the police band.
So, we find a streaming police band channel and leave it on while we continue to search the house. I also find, looking at the Internet Explorer e-mail settings, that apparently I have Matt's computer -- he's been installed as the default user.
Meanwhile, as I'm playing around here, Trisha notices someone standing leaning against a house about two blocks away, apparently looking our direction. Trisha, Amanda, Jenny and Julie all decide to sneak through the darkness to get closer to the man and see what he's up to, while the guys all decide that sneaking up on a stranger is close to assault and want no part of it. Matt does, however, agree to use his tape recorder (he's working on a book) to record the police band message if they're not back yet (it's not about 12:30 AM.)
So, with all the boys staying nice and safe inside the house, the four girls decide to investigate our strange onlooker. Julie stays in the bushes with a pair of night vision goggles (courtesy of Trisha's Hummer's trunk) coordinating via the cell-phones/ear pieces (using a conference call number that Matt had established for work) while Amanda, Jenny and Trisha each split up to approach the guy from different angles. Surprisingly, Jenny -- the elementary school teacher -- seems to be quite a natural at this.
They approach very close -- Amanda gets to only a few feet away -- before he gives any sign of noticing them. Suddenly, the guy spins and whips out a pistol, pointing right at Amanda's spot in the bushes. "That's far enough!" he calls. Trisha rushes up behind him, putting her M-16 (she has a permit) to his head.
"Drop it!" she shouts. "NOW!!" The guy just smiles slightly and then whips around to point the gun at her, but Trisha moves first, bashing him in the face with the stock of her gun, then kicking his knee out hard. Amanda rushes forward, putting him in a jujitsu hold, although she notices a strange light coming from his hands as she runs forward. Jenny also pats the guy down, but doesn't find anything on him other than his holster.
Suddenly the guy says three strange words in a loud voice, and with a flash of light, he disappears, leaving Amanda holding all his clothes. Back in the room downstairs, where the guys are listening on speaker phone to the cell phone conversation, Joshua startles as he hears the strange words. They remind him eerily of chanting he heard in his strange dream the night his carpet was branded.
With nothing left to do and nothing to show for their trouble except a black suit and white shirt (although Julie did find a hair sample that she puts in a plastic envelope for DNA analysis), the girls all come back to the house with just a few minutes to spare before the police band clue is promised. The guys have been listening with half an ear to the police band for the better part of an hour, and it's been relatively quiet so far: a domestic disturbance here and there, someone ran a red light. Right at 1:17 the chatter dies down for a second, then a quick report from Yeager, IL -- a tiny town about an hour/hour-and-a-half south of Chicago. At the Strohbel farm, there's been a strange report of arson -- cult symbols and what not present. Joshua quickly pulls of the Strohbel's on Yahoo! People and gets an address. Another quick search of past news, and I find a few stories from local newspapers "Police Beat" about the arsonist gang "the Dragons" who have burned symbols into various locations around town.
We give the Strohbel's house a quick call, but get a voice mail greeting. "You've reached the Edward, Lynn and Scott Strohbel. We are unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a message." We hang up without leaving a message.
"OK, I think it's time we start talking about why we're here," Jenny says, just a hint of panic tinging her voice.
"I've got a better idea," says Joshua. "Let's talk about it on the way to Yeager."
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