I am here, little drooling puppets. I am your Game Master! Bow before my mighty mightiness, my stringed friends. I suggest you bow before my patience is tried. You do not want to see what things may fall out or lay exposed for all to see. It is a scary thought, is it not? My powers are all powerful! Tremble before my massive ego!
I decree that during our next session one of our numbers will fall. He will fight. He will struggle. He will devise all manner of solutions to save the day but it will be a fruitless endeavor.
You never know how far one may teeter on the edge of insanity before they leap, screaming into the multi-coloured darkness.
All will despair.
The horde will prevail. Unless… the secret is discovered or another comes along to betray them all. Until then, small, squishy, meat-bags.
In the Weird West of Deadlands, Savage Worlds gamers ought not to feel limited to trusting only in their six-shooters. I have learned from experience that it is handy to keep a few sticks of dynamite on hand, if a suitably-equipped general store or mining operation can supply these items.
Just this evening, a Player on my team instantly removed 20 of our opponents from view with some lit TNT. We also managed to take out about 12 of the enemy in the last gaming session as well. Running Buffalo can chuck sticks like a champ.
A cautionary note: dynamite is not so useful for a fight in the hands of players that lack the Throwing skill. Leaving it to a non-Wild Card character that lacks bennies — even an NPC with the Throwing skill, is risky business. We learned that the hard way when about a dozen of our own red-shirted NPCs were turned into mincemeat. Sad stuff.
- According to the Omnipotent Eye, dynamite also comes in handy for dealing with horrible Cthulhu-inspired creatures from other dimensions as well. Good to know.
Introducing a priest named Atticus Moore who walks in the Deadlands of the Weird West. In this Savage World, Atticus persuades and cajoles to give solace to sinners and help others see the presence of the divine in their own life’s choices.
“You gonna’ try te’ stay my gun with some fire and brimstone sermon ‘fore you die today, preacher man? Don’t bother. I ain’t got no mind for yer high-soundin’ foolishness.”
As soon as Atticus Moore sat down on his barstool in the saloon, he’d sensed the stranger’s hostility. It couldn’t have been anything the priest had said; all he’d done was order a drink to help him endure what had turned out to be a blazing-hot day in the middle of the Southwest.
No, this grizzled cowboy had leveled his pissed-off gaze at Atticus the moment he’d made out the younger man’s pastoral suit and priestly collar. Inside of a Texas minute, the big sweaty man had escalated from unprovoked cussing to pointing his six-shooter in Atticus’ direction.
The traveling priest’s life flashed before his eyes. Read the rest of this entry »