James L. Cambias's Blog, page 38

Random Encounters: Remote Frontier Starport

Today's Random Encounter Table takes us to a distant star system at the edge of explored space. The spaceport can be either an orbital station or an outpost on the surface of a planet. Because this is the frontier, equipment is patched-together and law enforcement is lax and ad-hoc. 

Use this table to generate roleplaying adventures, story hooks, or excuses for being late tomorrow morning.

ENCOUNTERS AT A REMOTE FRONTIER STARPORT

(As always, roll d20 when moving, d10 when stationary)

Roll Twice and Combine
Plot-advancing encounter: A person or thing related to the reason the player-characters have come to this remote frontier starport.
Alien: Nobody knows where it's from or can understand what it wants, but it's obviously desperate. It has amazing technology and unknown powers. Will you help?
Animal breakout! Someone left the gate of the quarantine pens unlocked and now 2d6 animals are loose in the starport. Some are valuable, some are dangerous, and all might be carrying diseases or parasites which could ravage the local ecosystem.
Bounty Hunter: A tough free-lance lawman has caught up with the player-characters. Either he's after them for something they've actually done, or he's got the wrong suspects but is determined to bring them in anyway.
Merchant: She's got a valuable cargo which needs to get off-planet at once ��� but her ship's down for repairs for at least a week.
Smuggler: She's also trying to move some valuable merchandise off the planet, but this has to be done without anybody finding out. The merchandise is definitely illegal, and may be dangerous or morally horrifying.
Space Force Officer: He just finished up his tour of duty and is looking for people to help him take down a slave-trader who has powerful allies in the government.
Storm! Intense weather shuts down the port for 1d6 hours.
Wealthy Traveler: She's obviously rich and apparently completely scatterbrained. She needs a little help and will reward the player characters handsomely. Actually it's a con game and once she gets their money (or their ship, or their identity chips) she vanishes completely.
Brawl! A band of 2d6 space pirates have squared off against 2d6 Star Force crewmen. The port's lone security officer isn't getting involved. Pick a side and wade in ��� or take advantage of the distraction.
Broken-Down Spaceman: He's too old and sick to fly in space, and depends on charity to survive. But he knows a few things nobody else does: lost ships, secrets, exotic worlds. Some might even be true.
Contamination! There's been a leak ��� could be radiation, or toxic chemicals, or biological material ��� and this whole section of the starport must be sealed off until it's cleaned up.
Courier: She's got a vital message which needs to reach someone, but there are enemies hunting her. The player-characters have to take the MacGuffin (they may not be aware of it).
Pirate Hangout: This bar's been taken over by 2d6 space pirates. Merchants or scouts get mocked, but Star Force crews are going to get a fight.
Scientist: He's recruiting for an expedition to study something weird in a dangerous place. Alien ruins, or deadly creatures, or perhaps an isolated tribe with bizarre customs. The pay is adequate. What could go wrong?
Scout: She just got back from the outer frontier and she's acting kind of odd. It might have something to do with the alien parasite that's slowly consuming her from the inside.
Vermin Lair: A nest of 2d6 mutant spider-rats. They're clever, capable of setting crude traps (and avoiding traps set for them). They steal things, possibly valuable or dangerous items. They fight viciously when cornered.
Wreck: A ship which is too beat-up to sell. Might contain useful salvage ��� or something hidden.
Tracks/aftermath (reroll)

SITUATIONS

(Roll 1d6 to generate a situation, then consult the table above to see who is involved.)

A desires B
A wants to capture B
A wants B dead
A wants to go somewhere
A wants to solve a mystery
A wants X

For more bizarre encounters with shady characters in remote locations, buy my ebooks:  Outlaws and Aliens and Monster Island Tales!

Retro-Review: The 8th Annual of the Year's Best SF (Part 3)

Picking up where we left off last time, at the halfway mark.

"MS. Found in a Bus" by Russell Baker, is a bit of alleged political humor from the New York Times. Baker was a Times columnist from 1962 to 1998. This very short piece is (I think) a satire of espionage thrillers and science fiction in general. (I say "I think" because it might be making fun of some long-forgotten incident of 1962, but if so the satire is so recondite I can't figure it out.) I have to say that including a piece so blatantly contemptuous of science fiction in a collection of the year's best science fiction is a startling bit of desperate status-seeking by the editors. One star.

"The Insane Ones" by J.G. Ballard is an interesting meditation on sanity and freedom. It's set in a near(ish) future where all forms of psychological manipulation, from psychotherapy to advertising, have been banned. This means there is a "right to insanity" and psychiatrists have to practice in secret. Somehow the society is also tyrannical, though it's hard to square that with the premise. Ballard spends a fair amount of effort trying to warn the reader about the dangers of this highly improbable future, which I think weakens the story quite a bit. It would have been better to play it absolutely straight and see what kind of a world results. Two stars.

The next story is "Leprechaun" by William Sambrot, who was a fairly prolific writer in the 1950s and early 1960s. As the title suggests, this is an Irish story, but not a fantasy. The titular leprechaun is (spoiler alert!) a little green man from space. And that's pretty much the whole story right there. Two stars.

"Change of Heart" by George Whitley inadvertently illustrates a huge change in attitudes between 1962 and 2017 ��� or even 1972. It's a sea story about mutant superintelligent underwater creatures hostile to man. Sounds pretty scary, right? Except the creatures in question are dolphins and whales. Just a few years after this story saw print, they became the mascots of the nascent environmental movement, and one of that movement's first great victories was the ban on commercial whaling. So an "evil whales" tale is jarring to modern sensibilities. It's not a bad story, though; I'm pretty sure Mr. Whitley must have spent some time at sea. Three stars.

"Angela's Satyr," by Brian Cleeve, is a comic fantasy about a Sicilian girl who falls in love with a satyr (and he with her). But when they try to get a local witch to transform him into a human, it goes awry. For a story about a satyr it's surprisingly non-bawdy ��� though Mr. Cleeve has a shrewd and unsentimental attitude about men and women. Three stars.

"Puppet Show" by Fredric Brown is about a weird-looking extraterrestrial envoy who comes to Earth in a tiny Western border town, on a mission to test humans for xenophobia before establishing formal contact. It's short and entertaining, though not particularly deep. Playboy was running a lot of SF in 1962, apparently. Three stars.

"Hang Head, Vandal!" is by Mark Clifton, and appeared in Amazing Stories. It's set on Mars, which makes it exactly the second story in this anthology which doesn't take place on more-or-less contemporary Earth. (So far.) It's about a project to conduct some very risky nuclear-power research on Mars, which accidentally sets off a slow-motion chain reaction, destroying the planet. Which turns out to be inhabited. (Anybody out there NOT GETTING THE MESSAGE?) Everybody is sad. One star.

Next up is an odd tryptich of essays about Mars. The first is "Earthlings, Go Home!" by Mack Reynolds. It's a comic take on Mars and Martians which originally appeared in Rogue magazine (a kind of Playboy-lite). Two stars, and that's being generous.

The second is "The Martian Star-Gazers" by Frederick Pohl, a whimsical look at what Martian astronomy would be like. (Not very different from Terrestrial, it turns out, but with funny names.) Two stars.

And finally we have "Planetary Effulgence" by no less than Bertrand Russell. It's a rather leaden satire about (hold your breaths, everybody!) the dangers of war, and how we should all just get along. Thanks for clearing that up for us. One star.

The last one I'm going to look at this time is "Deadly Game" by Edward Wellen. It's an odd and creepy little story about a game warden who devises a unique way to protect the animals in his assigned territory, by selective breeding for intelligence so they can take care of themselves. Three stars.

Next time I'll finish the book and provide a little round-up of the contents. In the meantime, buy my ebooks!

Island of Lost Games: A Footprint in the Sand!

Exciting news about one of the first titles I covered in the "Island of Lost Games" series ��� John Hill, one of the original Droids gaming group, ran across my post and sent this reply:

I enjoyed your recent post about the game "Droids", though the circumstances that led me to discover it leave much to be desired.  The gentleman that is listed in the "Edited by..." credit of the Droid book, Derek Stanovsky, passed away unexpectedly on Nov. 1, at the age of 54.  I was trying to find leads to Neil Moore to inform him of Derek's passing.  Sadly, I, and several others that had some involvement with Droids failed to find any leads to Mr. Moore.

I find it delightful that there is a conversation and interest in this game after all these years.  And to answer the question at the end of your article, I have indeed played the game.  Sadly, Droids was developed at a time that I was very busy with my engineering degree, so I didn't get to play it extensively, but I definitely recall playing a few sessions with Neil as Game Master.

I'm attaching a photo you may find amusing.  Originally, we we're going to use photos of droid models instead of the illustrations.  I took apart several of my various tank and spaceship models and built some Droids.  Everyone loved the model, but the pictures left a lot to be desired.  If only we'd had the image manipulation stuff available now, I'm sure we could have made it work.

Thanks again for the kind words about the game.

Here's the photo of Mr. Hill's Droid model.

It's wonderful to hear from someone with a connection to the game. If anyone knows where to find Neil Moore, drop me a line and I'll forward the information to Mr. Hill.

 

For more stories about relics of the past and adventures in the future, buy my ebooks: Outlaws and Aliens, and Monster Island Tales!

Random Encounters: Accursed Leng

Where does the horror-haunted Plateau of Leng lie? In Central Asia? Past the Mountains of Madness in Antarctica? Or is it outside of waking reality altogether, in the dimension of nightmares? The city of sinister temples and forbidden magic draws visitors from all space and time.

ENCOUNTERS IN LENG

(Roll d20 when moving, d10 when stationary.)

Roll Twice and Combine.
Plot-advancing encounter: Something or someone connected to whatever brought the player-characters to Leng in the first place ��� or possibly a clue to how they may return home again.
Ghouls: 1d6 mocking and sardonic ghouls. They retain memory fragments of all the human brains they have consumed, and can trade secrets. Gold doesn't interest them ��� only corpses, the fresher the better.
Invisible Hunter: A single intelligent, invisible predator, it hides in plain sight until a likely-looking victim comes along. Then it strikes, hoping to kill its prey and drag the remains off to its lair before anyone notices.
Men of Leng: 1d6 tall, golden-eyed, and cruel natives of the accursed plateau. Wise in both magic and science, they wear elaborate robes decorated with mystic signs and circuitry. They consider other humans to be lesser beings, and punish any impertinence with their nerve-whips.
Proto-Shoggoth: The rulers of Leng tolerate this crawling horror because it consumes all waste and garbage it comes across. It also consumes anyone who can't run away fast enough. Fortunately, the proto-shoggoth is mindless and slow-moving.
Rain of Blood: It may just be red dust or micro-organisms, but it sure looks and smells like blood ��� and the things that creep out of the shadows to lap at clotting puddles seem to agree.
Riding-Lizard: The Men of Leng travel on agile, two-legged lizards with colorful plumed crests. One has gotten loose! The lizards are vicious and carnivorous, and this one cannot resist its instinctive urge to chase fleeing mammals.
Wizard From Back Home: He has come to Leng to study the darkest sorceries, but player-characters will recognize him as one of their fellow-countrymen (though he may be a century or two out of date). He notices his compatriots, as well, and will help them if asked ��� though he won't do anything which will endanger his own life or his position in Leng.
Zombie Space-Sailors: Living dead men who sail through space, currently on "shore leave" in Leng. They constantly check themselves for damage, and carry cold-projector weapons to which they are immune.
Vampire Tavern: A dark tavern with no fire in the fireplace. The patrons (there are 1d10 pale people there at any time) watch living newcomers hungrily, and if you order wine it is laced with opium. If you wake up you'll have some holes in your neck and a new thirst . . .
Thin Spot: An area about 10 yards across where the boundaries between worlds are weak. Using magic here can have unexpected results, and people can wander into other worlds if they don't concentrate on remaining in Leng.
Wizard Fight! Two wizards are duelling in the street, with utter disregard for collateral damage. The adventurers may decide to get involved, or have to deal with the fallout.
Mystic Bookseller: A basement shop full of books from every culture and era ��� including some books from other worlds and the future!
Obsidian Tower: A looming ancient tower of black stone, its doorway sealed by a massive plate of bronze. Something ancient and deadly lurks within.
Caged Prisoner: He's trapped in an iron cage and begs passers-by to release him. He has obviously been dead for decades.
Soul-Seller: A merchant whose face is hidden by a gold mask, who buys and sells souls which he keeps in little jade bottles. Buying a soul lets the customer consume the memories and knowledge of the original person. Selling your soul leaves your body alive and functional, but it is concerned only with basic survival and no longer speaks.
Sewer Squid! A mass of 2d6 tentacles erupt from a drain or manhole, grabbing at passers-by, trying to drag the victims down into the sewer. Each tentacle has maximum human strength.
Starry Wisdom Temple: A temple where robed worshippers chant and make sacrifices to the Elder Gods who live among the stars. Unbelievers who wander into the temple make ideal sacrifices . . .
Tracks/aftermath (reroll)

SITUATIONS IN LENG

(Roll 1d6, then consult the table above to determine who A and B are.)

A desires B
A wants to capture B
A wants B dead
A wants to go somewhere
A wants to solve a mystery
A wants X

 

For more bizarre encounters with strange beings in strange places, buy my ebooks:  Outlaws and Aliens and Monster Island Tales!

Retro-Review: The 8th Annual of the Year's Best SF (Part 2)

Picking up where we left off, we reach a milestone: the first story in this anthology ��� published, let us recall, at the height of the Space Race in 1963 ��� which actually takes place in outer space.

Poul Anderson's "Kings Who Die" is an odd blending of swashbuckling space opera action, Cold War political speculation, and a surprisingly grim look at human tribal psychology. The "Kings" of the title are the soldiers of the Space Corps, who are given every privilege and consideration on Earth because they are, in effect, sacrificial figures in an unending war across the Solar System. One can chuckle at some of Anderson's technological notions (no ship that small could carry a computer powerful enough to analyze strategy!) but this is still a powerful story. Four stars.

Next up is "The Unfortunate Mr. Morky," by Vance Aandahl, a curious short fantasy (with some sciencey trappings) about a bland little man who visits a carnival "Museum of Mirrors" and . . . well, I've read it several times and I'm still not exactly sure what happens. The mirrors do some kind of science-magic handwaving stuff and bland Mr. Morky gets replicated infinitely, taking over the world. Or something like that. I give it one star for being short. Did Judith Merril owe the author money?

"Christmas Treason" by James White is a rather over-long story about a group of children connected by a psychic link and a shared belief in Santa Claus who wind up ending the threat of nuclear war and stuff like that.

The list of great science fiction stories involving children is very short, and this one isn't on it. James White struggles to avoid being twee, since he has a Very Serious Message to convey (nuclear war is bad, m'kay?) but I'm not sure he succeeds. The NORAD Santa Tracker Web site does a better job of balancing childish wonder against the utter seriousness of nuclear early-warning systems. Two stars.

"A Miracle of Rare Device" by Ray Bradbury is not one of his absolute best stories, but even workmanlike Bradbury is pretty damned good. This one is a bit of fantastical Americana, about two sad sacks who become proprietors of a magical mirage. It's short and sweet (in a couple of ways). The most startling thing about "Miracle" is that such an overwhelmingly innocent story was in Playboy. Four stars.

"All the Sounds of Fear" by Harlan Ellison is a marvelously creepy story about one Richard Becker, the ultimate Method actor, who completely loses himself in each part he plays. He's the greatest actor in the world . . . until he's cast as a murderer. I think we all can see where this is going, but Ellison manages the amazing trick of throwing a second twist into the story, when we find out what happens to Becker when he doesn't have a part to play. Four stars.

Next up is "One of Those Days" by William F. Nolan. I'm not sure what to make of this one. It's a whimsical fantasy about a man who appears to be hallucinating, but may actually be manipulating reality around himself. If it was published five years later I'd call it yet another tiresome psychedelic story, but as it is it's just . . . weird. Two stars.

"The Day Rembrandt Went Public" by Arnold M. Auerbach is a perfect illustration of what's sometimes called "Poe's Law." When written it was an uproarious, over-the-top satire of the commercialization of art collecting. Now it's barely even fiction. Three stars for a depressingly accurate forecast of the future, I guess.

That puts us in the middle of the book, so I'll stop here. See you next time.

If you want to see some stories which I do think are first-rate, buy my ebooks: Outlaws and Aliens and Monster Island Tales!

Random Encounters: Post-Apocalyptic Houston

ENCOUNTERS IN POST-APOCALYPTIC HOUSTON

(Roll d20 if the party is moving, d10 if they are staying in one place.)

Roll Twice and Combine
Plot-Advancing Encounter: Something or someone related to whatever brought the adventurers to Post-Apocalyptic Houston in the first place. (If they're just passing through then this is an adventure hook: someone who knows of a treasure in the city.)
Armadillo! A giant mutant armadillo has dug tunnels under this entire area. It will snatch travellers from underneath, dragging them down into the dark. The armadillo has powerful claws and bulletproof hide, and strikes without warning.
Cheerleader Militia: A band of 2d6 heavily-armed young women who preserve the traditions of their lost high school. They're wary of strangers, but turn hostile if they think you're from a rival school.
Highway Bandits! Riding pickup trucks on the north side of town, or low-riders on the south, they're classic road warriors preying on anyone who strays into their territory. All are heavily armed.
Mutant Cockroach Swarm: A deadly swarm of hundreds of hungry radioactive mutant cockroaches. At night they glow green. They attack any living things in their path and leave only bones behind.
Ranger: A solo Texas Ranger in an armored all-terrain vehicle, with a combat suit and high-tech firepower. He aims to enforce the law.
Scavengers: A ragged band of 2d8 mutants who survive by picking through the ruins. They may have some surprising high-tech items, and are definitely well-armed.
Storm! Heavy rain, winds gusting over 50 mph, and lightning for 1d12 hours, followed by flooding for a day.
Traveling Doctor: A highly-skilled physician with a good supply of scavenged equipment and medicines, who offers his or her services to those in need. Anyone who harms or interferes with the Traveling Doctor earns the hostility of everyone in the area.
Alien: An intelligent extraterrestrial escaped from one of the labs at NASA. It has acquired weapons but is desperate for suitable food. "Food" in this case may mean anything from Reese's Pieces to petrochemicals.
Alligator! A twelve-foot alligator surges out of the nearest water, trying to snatch one of the party and drag him away.
Cannibal Barbecue Joint: A barbecue place run by 2d4 cannibal mutants with guns. If you don't want to trade for slow-cooked human flesh, they'll try to capture you for tomorrow's special.
Drain-Dwellers: A band of 2d12 cannibal mutants who hide out in the storm drain tunnels under the streets. Their main nest is nearby.
Flooded Area: A stretch of city 1d4 miles wide is under 10-15 feet of water.
Mission Church: A Catholic church run by fearless Franciscan monks. It provides sanctuary, basic education, and simple medical help. There are 2d4 monks, aided and protected by 2d10 human and mutant converts. While peaceful, the converts do have guns for defense.
Radioactive Man: A human infused with so much radioactivity he glows at night. His touch causes harmful burns. The Radioactive Man is immune to age and disease, but went mad from loneliness years ago. He tries to catch the most charismatic member of the party, begging him or her to stay with him.
Ruined Refinery: It's full of flammable chemicals, rusty catwalks, scavengers looking for fuel, and maybe some hungry mutants.
Toxic Zone! An area 1d100 yards across contaminated by chemicals, radiation, and/or biohazards. Will definitely make you sick, might kill you, might give you mutations.
Tracks/Aftermath: Reroll to see what you find traces of. If it's a fixed location, this may be a signpost.

SITUATIONS

(Roll 1d6, then roll on the table above to see who A and B are.)

A desires B
A wants to capture B
A wants B dead
A wants to go somewhere
A wants to solve a mystery
A wants X

Retro-Review: The 8th Annual of the Year's Best SF

I picked up a copy of The 8th Annual of the Year's Best SF in a used bookstore a couple of years ago, and recently re-read it. It was published in 1963, so the stories represent the best of 1962 ��� at least in the opinion of Judith Merril, the editor. It contains twenty-eight stories, plus a "Summation" essay by Merril and a roundup of the year's books by Anthony Boucher.

Let's look inside and see what 1962 has to offer. As with earlier efforts, I will use a four-star rating scheme.

The first story is "The Unsafe Deposit Box" by Gerald Kersh, originally published in The Saturday Evening Post. That's an important detail right there: the Post was a national general-interest magazine, a very well-paying market. About the only equivalent today is The New Yorker, and they seldom publish science fiction. I suspect that's why Merril put this one right at the front, to show off how respectable and mainstream science fiction had become, at the height of the Space Race era.

The story itself is . . . of its time. It's a Wacky Inventor story, which I've already mentioned as a deservedly extinct sub-genre of science fiction. This Wacky Inventor is a British alumnus of the Manhattan Project, and his invention is a packet of something called "Fluorine 80+" which under the right conditions could have enough explosive power to destroy the Earth. Being Wacky, he accidentally leaves it in his safe-deposit box at the bank in the French Riviera resort town where he's staying ��� and of course being sealed up in an armored vault turns out to be exactly the conditions requires to turn Fluorine 80+ into a doomsday weapon. So the Wacky Inventor must work with a Russian friend (GET THE MESSAGE YET?) to get into the locked vault before the Earth is destroyed.

It's smoothly written, but the science is nonsensical, almost offensively so. Gerald Kersh doesn't seem to have even bothered to crack open the encyclopedia when writing it. It's the same kind of earnest fable writers have been cranking out since 1945, if not earlier. Two stars, and that's generous.

Next up is "Seven-Day Terror" by R.A. Lafferty. If everyone writing Wacky Inventor stories could do it as well as Lafferty, I wouldn't be so cranky about them. This particular Wacky Inventor is a nine-year-old boy, who has built a Disappearer out of a beer can with the ends cut off and two pieces of cardboard stuck inside. Look through it, blink, and make whatever you're looking at disappear!

This is sheer fantasy ��� although honor demands that I point out it's almost exactly like the superweapon AKKA from Jack Williamson's Legion of Space series, and nobody calls those stories fantasy.

What makes the story work is that Lafferty doesn't flinch from the implications of a precocious nine-year-old (and his swarm of equally precocious siblings) equipped with a Disappearer. Hence the title. It's funny, but there's a wicked undercurrent worthy of Saki or Shirley Jackson. Three stars.

The third story is Harry Harrison's "The Toy Shop." This one is very short: a toy salesman demonstrates a magnetic-levitation toy, but reveals it's a trick worked by a thread when he sells it to a skeptical Air Force officer. The Air Force man takes it home as a joke . . . but then he and his friends discover the thread isn't really strong enough to lift the toy. It actually is levitating. We cut away to the salesman and his partner discussing their plan: nobody would listen when they tried to sell their levitation invention, so they have to get people in positions of influence interested by subterfuge.

This one was from Analog Magazine (formerly Astounding), and reflects one of Analog editor John W. Campbell's enduring hobby-horses: technology advances which are suppressed or ignored by the stodgy "establishment." It's a favorite trope among people who want a particular invention to be real ��� like antigravity machines, perpetual-motion devices, fuelless power supplies, and so on. I only know of one actual example: the steam turbine. Charles Parsons had great success building turbine generators, but couldn't talk the Royal Navy into trying steam turbines for warship propulsion. He finally decided to crash the Navy's Diamond Jubilee Fleet Review in 1897 aboard a turbine-powered yacht, zooming through the fleet faster than any ship trying to catch him. The Navy got the message and in 1906 the revolutionary battleship Dreadnought was launched with steam turbine engines.

Anyway. Harrison's story is very slight, almost a story proposal or a TV episode pitch. Three stars.

Fourth is "The Face in the Photo" by Jack Finney ��� another Saturday Evening Post story. If you know anything about Jack Finney's work, you're probably guessing that this is a story involving time travel, probably back to the 1890s or thereabouts. Finney wrote at least four stories or books on this theme. In this particular story, an obsessed San Francisco police detective realizes that criminals he's searching for have escaped into the past, and tries to force the inventor of the time machine to help him bring them to justice.

Finney's a skilled pro writer, so you don't really mind that you know exactly where this story's going after about two pages. Three stars.

Number five is "The Circuit Riders" by R.C. FitzPatrick. This is the first really great story in the anthology, and I'm surprised it hasn't been reprinted more often. It's a nice gritty police procedural, in a near future (well, near future as seen from 1962) where the police use "DeAngelis Circuits" to sense anger and violent emotions in order to intervene before violent crimes can happen. The sensors are big and immobile, requiring skilled operators, and this story follows a couple of shifts of DeAngelis operators as they keep watch on one Pittsburgh precinct ��� and stop a serial murderer. The psychology is old-fashioned, the technology seems quaint, but the picture of men at work in a job that's both tedious and essential is great. According to the editor's note, this was FitzPatrick's first story. He had some other stories published during the Sixties but then seems to have faded from view. I can't find any more information about him. Four stars.

Sixth is "Such Stuff" by John Brunner, an odd almost-horror story about a scientist doing dream research and his reaction to a very odd patient. Brunner leaves the question open of whether there's something paranormal going on, or if the researcher is going bonkers. But for that very reason, the story doesn't have much "punch." I don't need a Spanish Moss Monster running amok through the hospital, but as it is the story just kind of dies down rather than ending. Three stars.

And then we get Number Seven: "The Man Who Made Friends With Electricity," by Fritz Leiber. It's an excellent story about a lonely old man who becomes aware that the electricity in the power grid is alive and intelligent ��� with plans and goals of its own. I'm almost inclined to deduct a star for Leiber's irritating post-McCarthyite sniggering at anti-Communism (what's a hundred or so million dead people among friends, amirite?), but really, he couldn't write a bad story if he tried. Four stars.

That puts us a quarter of the way through the book. To be continued . . .

If you like great SF short stories, buy my ebooks: Outlaws and Aliens, and Monster Island Tales!

Random Encounters: Steampunk Paris

I'm starting a new feature of the 'blog this week: your Weekly Random Encounters. Each week I'm going to post a new random encounter table for a particular setting. Use these for roleplaying games, story prompts, or as a kind of I Ching to predict your week. I'm also appending the Situation generator to each entry.

Our first Random Encounter Table is for Steampunk Paris, where the powers of science have transformed the city into a Vernean fantasy ��� or nightmare.

ENCOUNTERS IN STEAMPUNK PARIS

(roll 1d10 if the party remain in one place, 1d20 if they are moving through the city)

Roll Twice and Combine.
Plot-advancing encounter: Something or someone connected with the reason the party have come to Paris in the first place.
Enthusiastic Students: Claude and Mimi Ardan, students at the Sorbonne Institut des ��tudes Extraordinaires. They are naive and helpful young mad scientists in training.
Gendarmes: 1d6 Paris policemen, equipped with flame-resistant cloaks and electric truncheons. They are either on regular patrol, looking for the adventurers, or responding to a call about a disturbance.
Giant Sewer Rats: 2d6 rats as big as Jack Russell terriers with near-human intelligence. They are stealing food, but might pick up anything small and shiny.
Luddite: Henri Lenoir, anti-technology terrorist armed with handmade black-powder bombs and a sharp rapier.
Murderous Ape: A brain-augmented Orang-outang, driven mad by surgery and armed with a straight razor. It gets around the city by rooftops and trees.
Robbery: 2d6 bandits on steam unicycles pull off a daring heist. They are armed with gas and smoke grenades.
Runaway Automaton: A mechanical man whose regulation machinery has broken. It is hostile to everyone.
Weather: A heavy downpour lasting 1d4 hours.
Abandoned Factory: This giant automated furniture plant shut down after a financial scandal. The building holds rats, pigeons, dangerous machinery, and a few street urchins.
Aristocratic Troublemakers: 2d6 young dandies armed with sword-canes and pocket derringers, drunk on absinthe and pineal extract, looking for amusement and/or trouble.
Cycle Race: There are 1d100 speeding bicyclists and a dense crowd of cheering onlookers between the player-characters and their destination.
Fille de Joie: Alluring young woman who is fronting for a gang of 1d8 organ-harvesters. They want a good healthy spleen.
Fire!: A building on fire. There are people trapped in the upper stories and the flames threaten to spread to neighboring structures. The Fire Brigade may not arrive in time!
Low Dive: A basement tavern catering to crooks and science-spawned mutants. Upper-class types, scientists, or detectives get a very unfriendly reception.
Mimes!: They appear to be street performers doing the classic "invisible box" routine. Actually they really have been trapped inside forcefield bubbles for days and are getting desperate.
Street Market: The next couple of blocks are crowded with vendors selling produce, old clothes, cheese, old books, live poultry . . . and whatever the adventurers really need right now.
Workers' Demonstration: 2d100 burly laborers protesting the Government. They are angry and it wouldn't take much to turn this into a riot.
Tracks/aftermath: Reroll to see what traces they come across.

SITUATIONS

Roll 1d6 on the table below, then roll on the table above to determine who A and B are.

A desires B.
A wants to capture B.
A wants to harm or kill B.
A wants to go somewhere. B may wish to prevent this.
A wants to solve a mystery. B doesn't want the truth to be known.
A wants something. B may have it, or want to get it.

 

For more perilous encounters, check out my new ebook Monster Island Tales!  

 

 

PhilCon 2017, Featuring MEEE!

This weekend sees the return of Philadelphia's legendary science fiction convention, PhilCon! And once again I'll be there. If you're anywhere in the mid-Atlantic region, come down to Cherry Hill, New Jersey and join the fun!

My schedule for the con:

Saturday, November 11, 12:00 noon, Executive Suite 623: Readings.

I'll be reading at noon, followed by April Grey. Come hear something never before released to the public!

1:00 p.m., Autograph Table: Signing.

After the reading, April Grey and I shift over to the autographing table. I'll have my Sharpie, so bring anything and I'll sign it.

4:00 p.m., Plaza V: Oh, and the Places You'll Go: The 40th Anniversary of Traveller.

I'll be joining four other panelists to discuss the enduring popularity of the original and greatest science fiction roleplaying game.

5:00 p.m., Plaza II: Things You Should Read.

A panel about the best recent works you probably haven't heard of. Just in time for award nominations . . .

9:00 p.m., Plaza III: You Are Not the One.

I join a panel discussion about the trope of the "Chosen One" in fantasy and SF. Spoiler: I hate that trope, and I'll explain why.

Sunday, November 12, 12:00 noon, Crystal Ballroom Three: Foundations of Worldbuilding: Travel and Transportation.

An all-star panel discussion about an often-neglected aspect of world-building in fantasy and science fiction ��� how do people get around in this fictional setting?

1:00 p.m., Plaza II: Subterranean Science Fiction.

My last event of the con, a panel on classic and recent SF which takes place underground.  

After-Action Report: Basic Dungeons & Dragons at JiffyCon

(Blogging has been interrupted lately because I bought a new computer and had to spend far more time than I liked getting it set up. That's done, so with luck I can return to my two-or-three-times-a-week schedule.)

A couple of weeks ago, on October 28, I attended JiffyCon, a mini game convention held at Smith College's Seelye Hall (not to be confused with its counterpart, Unseelye Hall, which only appears at midnight during the dark of the moon). The Northampton game store Modern Myths sponsored and managed the con this year ��� which was how I heard about it in the first place, since I run a weekly game session in the shop.

Since 2017 marks the 40th anniversary of the Dungeons & Dragons Basic Set, which brought roleplaying to the masses, I decided to take the opportunity to give modern gamers a taste of history. So I signed up to run a session of Basic D&D, using my ancient blue-box rulebook by John Eric Holmes (the box has long since disintegrated).

I created a classic old-school dungeon: "Into the Catacombs." The adventurers would be exploring the cellars and crypts to Normont Abbey, which mysteriously burned down in a single night fifty years ago, leaving no survivors. The PCs know that an old man in the village nearby mentioned a vast treasure still hidden under the abbey ��� and that the monks had brought about their own destruction by dabbling in the Black Arts.

The dungeon had four main sections: a cellar inhabited by a band of Goblin bandits, another cellar controlled by a pack of giant rats, the actual catacombs infested by zombies (the accursed undead monks), and a hidden demonic temple where the monks called up That Which They Could Not Put Down ��� and where the big fat treasure awaits. The complex also boasted a half-flooded room infested with giant frogs, some giant spiders, and that classic old-school monster: a Gelatinous Cube. I figured all that would keep us busy for a three-hour play session.

My dungeon did diverge from the Gygaxian paradigm in a couple of respects. First of all, it had almost no traps. That was simply because the concept (the abandoned cellars and catacombs of an abbey) just didn't seem like the kind of place you'd find concealed pits and deadfalls. Second, the dungeon wasn't very magical. It held monsters, including accursed walking dead monks, but I didn't put in any illusions or enchanted pools that reverse your alignment or whatever. Finally, I didn't include any puzzles or mysteries. That was mostly because I knew this was a one-shot with limited time. When you've only got three hours you don't want to spend two hours and forty-five minutes trying to figure out what the anagram over the door is supposed to mean.

I also created a whole lot of pre-generated characters for the party, because low-level characters in old-style D&D games die like teenagers in a horror movie. Following my self-imposed rule of doing everything old-school, I rolled the characters up according to the rules in the Basic Set: roll 3d6 for each attribute, in order, no substitutions. I did follow the "prime requisite" rule allowing fighting-men to trade unwanted Intelligence and Wisdom points for additional Strength, and magic-users to do the reverse to boost their Intelligence.

And so at 10:00 a.m. on a bright Fall morning, six intrepid players selected their characters for the venture Into the Catacombs. The party consisted of:

A Human Cleric (Strength 8, Wisdom 14, Charisma 8, 3 hit points, Armor Class 2, wearing plate mail and shield, armed with a Mace, a Wooden Cross, and a vial of Holy Water; Basic D&D clerics don't get any spells until 2nd Level).

Human Fighting-Man #1 (Strength 17, Charisma 11, 7 hit points, Armor Class 2, wearing plate mail and shield, equipped with a sword, short bow, and 50 feet of rope).

Human Thief #1 (Strength 11, Dexterity 15, 3 hit points, Armor Class 7, with leather armor, a short bow, and a dagger).

A Human Magic-User (Intelligence 11, Charisma 3, 4 hit points, Armor Class 9, armed with a dagger; 1 spell for the day from a list rolled randomly).

The Absurdly Powerful Elf Fighting-Man/Magic-User (Strength 16, Intelligence 12, Charisma 13, 3 hit points, Armor Class 2, wearing plate mail and shield, armed with a sword, can cast 1 spell from a list of six spells known).

Human Thief #2 (Strength 13, Dexterity 16, 2 hit points, Armor Class 7, equipped with leather armor, a short bow, a dagger, and 50 feet of rope).

It's instructive to compare this crew to a "modern" adventuring party. Since Dexterity doesn't give any advantage to defense in Basic D&D, everyone plates up in the heaviest armor they can afford. Much depends on the random roll for starting wealth; this particular bunch rolled well. Their hit points are miniscule ��� even a modern magic-user typically starts with at least 6 hit points. Here we've got a Fighting-Man with just 3.

The team began at sunset amid the burned-out ruins of the abbey, now covered by vines and shrubs. Two of the party heard faint noises from underground, and the group discovered a stone slab which seemed to be a hidden entrance. Rather than go charging in, they elected to toss a flask of oil down and set it alight, then close the slab again. This tactic failed to kill off any of the goblins down below, but the smoke did let the party spot another potential entrance, which they investigated: a crude chimney barely wide enough for an unarmored person to shinny down.

It also alerted the goblins, and a team of them snuck out through the flooded crypt, trying to take the interlopers from behind. The party spotted them and our first combat erupted! The players learned that in Basic D&D everyone uses the same table to hit, and all weapons do 1d6 damage. (This led one player to rely exclusively on shield-bashing attacks thereafter.) The skirmish with four goblins armed with clubs and slings left the PCs victorious, with a couple of minor injuries.

They decided to split the party, because that always leads to good results. One bunch went into the flooded crypt while the second team lifted the slab and tried to fool the goblins with a dummy improvised from goblin armor and brushwood. That didn't work against creatures with night vision, and the players learned that the goblins had at least one crossbow down there.

The crypt team fought off a killer frog and found the back entrance to the goblin lair. The magic-user explored the kitchen and the room used by the goblins to pickle giant frogs (for use in pies) while the Fighting-Man and thief pushed ahead toward the sounds of battle.

The sounds of battle were coming from the other half of the party. The Absurdly Powerful Elf took matters into his own hands and went down the stairs holding the unconvincing dummy in front of him, trying to intimidate the goblins. It didn't work, but his comrades hurried down to join the fight. One goblin managed to kill the Absurdly Powerful Elf, and another took down the second Thief. The party slew all the goblins but two: one bolted away up the stairs, the other surrendered, promising to show the humans where his leader kept the loot and the pickled frog pies.

The team also rescued two captives, replacing the casualties:

Halfling Thief (Strength 9, Dexterity 16, 2 hit points. Armor Class 7, with leather armor and a short bow).

Human Fighting-Man #2 (Strength 13, Dexterity 13, 7 hit points, Armor Class 7, equipped with leather armor and a short bow).

They gathered up the goblins' loot: 2,000 silver pieces, jewelry worth 200 gold, and some expensive rugs. They left the rugs to retrieve later, but took the coins.

Then, back through the flooded crypt (no frogs this time) to examine a pair of heavy doors in there. Those led into a mortuary chapel, which fortunately wasn't flooded, but unfortunately was home to several giant spiders. The heroes tried to chase the spiders away using torches ��� it worked on two of them, which retreated to the upper corners of the room, but the remaining spider wasn't scared, and instead dropped down onto the cleric. A brief but spirited battle resulted, with the cleric dead along with all three of the spiders.

It was getting close to the end of our time slot, and when the thief opened the door at the back of the chapel to reveal a long tunnel lined with burial niches ��� and a distant shambling humanoid shape ��� they decided to seal it off and retire with their loot. Game over.

Everyone seemed to enjoy the session (including me). Of course, I've been running games since, well, 1977, so I could probably manage an entertaining session using baseball cards for characters and rock-paper-scissors as the combat system. The players were amused by the game's quirks, and I was fascinated by the primordial DNA of certain game features. If I were to run it again I'd set it up as a two-parter, with a second session to let them finish exploring the catacombs.

What have you played lately?

 

For more adventures out of my fertile brain, buy my new ebook Monster Island Tales!