More than 30 years and a lifetime ago.

While at Kemper, in my officer years, I had access to my car. Since I knew many of the young teenagers in Boonville, and my reputation was solid (in that I could be trusted) I would haul them around. These were my 'little sisters' and I figured having me around kept some of the guys in check. 

Anyways, there was this diner; I remember going there for breakfast on the weekends. I also remember there was a waitress, cute, who I would playful give a hard time too. I guess I was flirting with her, but didn't think too much of it until one day, when I was riding with a friend and they got out to talk to some people. One of them was this girl. She leaned and looked at me and I looked back and we both said "YOU!"

She got in and we talked for a while. It was like out of a movie. I wish I had flirted more with her as she was cute. Found out later she was the daughter of the owner of the diner. 

Still, it's a memory that makes me smile. Both of the time in my life and of the girl.

The Most Dangerous Thing in the Universe is...

Well Gen Con has come and gone. I want to tell you a story about one of the last times I was at Gen Con when it was still in Milwaukee. If you've never been, go. As a gamer it’s a warm feeling knowing that everyone here is a gamer. Unlike Comic Con where you have no idea why some of them are there.

In any case, I had signed up for a Star Trek tournament using the FASA Star Trek system; one that I particularly love and use myself. And since I am also in STARFLEET International, I went in my uniform.  Getting to the table I discovered three things; I was the only one in a Star Trek uniform, the DM was this scenario’s author and he was wearing a KU Jayhawk hat.  That last item, let me explain. I graduated from the University of Missouri-Columba and Kansas University is our arch-rivals. Basically Orcs vs Elves. So I had to give him some playful crap about that.

The scenario was a two-parter. The best three players from two tables would advance to the 2^nd and final round. Also at the table I was playing at was a young man who said he had just received his commission as a 2^nd lieutenant in the U.S. Army reserves through a 4-year ROTC program.  Ok, that’s something else I had to playful get on; see I attended a military school for 6 years. Unlike him, it was 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, for 9 months. I was glad for him as I know what he had to go through and I knew what he had to look forward too.  So the game started.

The first part had us as a Starfleet crew going to investigate the loss of a Federation starship that had slipped into the Mirror, Mirror universe.  At the end of this round, after the votes were tabulated, I didn't make the cut. That was ok with me, I had a good time, and to me that is what makes a good game. But the GM was impressed with me and said he wanted me in the 2^nd part as he had a special role for me to play…

So the 2^nd part starts. One of the people that had advanced was this new 2^nd lieutenant. This time the PCs were playing a Federation rescue team sent to rescue the Federation ship and any crew and get them back to Federation space, along with any information. I was playing the captain of the Federation ship that had slipped through. They were to rescue me as I was being tortured. Or so they thought.

I was in actuality my Mirror, Mirror counterpart. The real captain had already been killed and I was placed where I was as a set up so the PCs could rescue me, and I could in fact then present the PCs to my Mirror, Mirror superiors.

Now this group of PCs was paranoid. It took them 2 ½ hours to get to where I was being ‘tortured.’ They get to the control booth and were cautiously and quietly and s l o w l y trying to figure out what to do.  The GM, the creator of this scenario had finally had enough and snapped. He grabbed a piece of paper and wrote something on it and gave it to the PCs. When they asked what it was he replied, “It’s a pass for the Clue Bus; get a clue!” He then grabbed the paper back and scribbled some more and thrust it back at them saying “Here, I even gave you a transfer!”  All the time I had been sitting quietly waiting to be rescued. They finally rescued me and we got aboard their ship and was making our escape.

The ship was taking fire. And the direction we were heading had us going by the original Federation ship, mine supposedly, so we decided to beam over and use that ship to escape. The only problem was the shields were up. No problem. I’m the captain, so I have the command over-ride. Nooooo, I don’t. I figured I was about to give myself away.  The Communication’s Officer PC, who was the one who would send the code, was basically described as a ‘MacGiver’. I made up some numbers and gave it to him figuring I could fast talk my way out it when it didn't work. He rolled in front of all us. The only way he could screw up if he rolled like a 95 and above. Guess what? He rolled double zero. In this case, that was not good, so it didn't work. So we figured we would go through the captain’s launch on the ship to access the computer and then use my voice over ride to lower the shields and we would beam over and take the ship.

Another aspect of this; all this time, this new 2^nd lieutenant had been the rescue party leader. But when we stepped aboard the ship and got it under control, I assumed command. The new 2^nd looey did not like that. My argument was simple; for the rescue he had been the leader but aboard MY ship, I am the captain. He didn't like it and the other PCs were caught in the middle. Well the MacGiver had scrambled the command codes so the enemy couldn't do what we just did. You could see this guy looking between us; me, still in my movie Trek uniform and a brand new 2^nd lieutenant. He said that he wrote down the code, cleared it from his screen and gave the paper with the command override for the ship to… me.

I tried not to be smug when I thanked him and ordered us to the rift in space between our two universes so we could go ‘home.’  What the PCs didn’t know was that the Mirror, Mirror universe was set to invade the Federation. So we get there, and there are all these ships. We are hailed; there is a final attack briefing and since my ship is the one to lead the attack, I had to attend. So I and my Chief of Security are going to take a shuttle across.

As we land, there are guards to arrest the PC. About this time the Admiral comes down and congratulates me on capturing all the invaders. (We had left the table and were outside everyone else’s hearing while all of this was going on.) I thank him and then say, “Oh by the way sir; here are the command overrides so you might want to shut everything down before they get a chance to do anything.”  It wasn’t until that time that I realized that the GM had forgotten I had them. He literally broke up laughing and almost fell on the floor when he realized I had totally done something he had never thought would happen. It was something that he wasn’t prepared for; and as we know, DMs don’t like that.

Back at the table, the rest of the PCs are told what is going on as their shields are lowered and shuttles are landing. Well the 2^nd lieutenant runs to the engineering room and sets up a switch so he can mix matter and anti-matter thereby destroying the ship. He wasn’t going to be taken alive.  Three times he was asked to surrender; there was no shame he was told. The rest of the PCs decided that discretion is the better part of valor and surrendered.  The lieutenant gave everyone a chance to get off the ship before he blew it up. Even after everyone left he was given one last chance to surrender. He didn’t and blew the ship up.

What I didn’t know until after that happened was that there was a resistant movement that raised its head and stopped the invasion by detonating a photon torpedo in the rift, thereby closing it. Had the lieutenant only surrendered, he would have been alive to see it.  As I think back on it, I don’t know if I would want to be a part of this brand new lieutenant’s unit. In real life In a game, he took it a bit too seriously.

The GM also wanted a certain outcome; and made it that way. The GM said that every other time he ran it, everyone lived and succeeded in getting away and collapsing the rift. Except this one.

But I’m not done yet!

Since I had been to Gen Con a number of times, and this was his first time there, and I had a great time playing with him, I invited him to come and try some of the local hang outs that the thirty-thousand plus gamers went to when they weren’t locked in gaming. I took him to The Safe House.

You are not cleared to receive all the information about the location (it is a great place-themed in spy motif. I highly recommend if you are anywhere near Milwaukee, check it out).

Once we made it in, we ordered the house special called “Spy’s Demise’. You get the drink in a themed glass; the drink is then discounted and you get to take the glass with you. The drink looks like Kool-Aid. Trust me, it’s not.

My Jayhawk friend walked around, checking things out, seeing people he knew and generally exploring. I had been there before so I stayed closed to the table. And since we were both having the same thing, I thought I would be a good friend and friendly opponent, and give him some of my drink-often. He never saw me do it, and could never quite figure out why his drink was always more full than mine.

After awhile we decided to grab something to eat, so we moved from the bar to a table. As we sat down, he had just gotten a fresh drink. He said that he was going to the bathroom and for me not to touch it. I replied I had no idea what he was talking about. As he stood to go he looked at a large table filled with people next to us; people we had no idea who they were, and said, “Make sure that he,” meaning me, “doesn’t mess with me drink.” He then left.

Right after he was out of sight, I took his drink and poured all of it into mine. The people at the table just watched me. He then came back and immediately asked what happened to his drink. I stated that I didn’t know what he was talking about as he drank all his drink before he left. He said he hadn’t. A woman at the table behind him piped up and said that I taken his drink. He turned back after she was done and said that I had been messing with him and his drinks all night. As he berated me the woman who had spoken up got up and left. He concluded his rant stating that he even had a woman who had seen me mess with his drink.

I looked at him and asked, “What woman?”

“That woman right there at that table!” He turned around and saw an empty chair where she had been. He then asked the table what had happened to the woman that had been sitting there.

This table, full of people we had never met or seen before looked at him with blank stares. One man said, with a perfectly straight face, “What woman?”

I wonder if that guy was from K-State?

The tavern

The tavern. The first place adventurers go to quench their thirst, hear rumors and get started on their adventures. Yes its cliché. But considering that many of the early role players were not old enough to legally drink, this was the next best thing. I remember many, many Green Gryphon taverns in my day.  I made my own, called The Winged Dragon. I had drawn out the inside and numbered the locations of tables, chairs and such. I even had the clientele figured out for morning, afternoon and evening. In my early days that was where the party started. After they grew in levels, it was where they returned to tell stories of their great deeds. It became their HQ; the hub for their world.  For some reason the place never caught fire and when dinosaurs rampaged the city, they missed this particular business.

The owner was a character I had played only to 8^th level; a human illusionist.  I have no idea why I made him have the Winged Dragon; except after some of the stuff he had been through, I thought he might want to retire while he was still breathing.  

The place served anything and everything from Gwidiyon Wine (very expensive, very rare and very good), to Red (or any color) Dragon steak (very expensive and possibly deadly).  The dart tournament was extremely popular throughout the entire realm.  That was how one group got drug into some espionage and political intrigue; one of the members of the team favored to win, disappeared and one of the PC’s was drug in to fill his shoes.

So the tavern is the age old starting point. But after awhile, it got overdone to start a group there. The problem was how do you get a ½ Orc Bard, Elven mage and a Gnome fighter, together as a group? One scenario which I haven’t tried yet is a sinking ship.  Women and children and PC’s first!

I did play with a group and we started in a tavern, but we didn't meet up until later that night when the tavern caught fire and the owner killed by some undead. We had to scavenge starting out and then find out who did this and why; not to mention some of the group wanted payback.

The character’s group could be childhood friends, brothers and sisters or the random grouping of race, class and alignment.  The start of an adventure, The Meet Up, can set the tone of the adventure and how the characters take to each other.

And if you do start in a tavern, there is nothing wrong with that. But make it memorable. Make a barkeep they will never forget.  I played with one group, that when we went into this one tavern, the barmaid that waited on us had the personality of someone who has been here for 12 hours and was so very excited (not) to wait on another table. Her spiel was like “Hello, welcome to the Bloodied Axe (sigh), my name is Rachel and I’ll be your server for this evening, (sigh), what can I get you fine ladies and gentlemen…” in a bored and uninterested voice. Nothing we did seem to faze her either.

You could make the place smoky from the candles and fireplace and people smoking. Or exceptionally clean with the staff making sure any spilled drink is immediately cleaned up. Use your senses to describe the place they are sitting in. Make them smell the food that’s cooking in the back. Describe the two gentlemen in the back booth huddled together and cautiously glancing around.  Explain that they hear the bard getting ready to start singing (his instrument is off key and he has a poor voice). And then there are the drinks; the names, the concoctions, the drunk factor. There is so much you can do.

While the tavern is a starting place for adventure, it can be an adventure in itself. Make use of it. 

Chickens

Imagine the Green Gryphon tavern in the evening on a rainy night. The place is busy as usual and a group of new adventurers are seeking advice from the barkeep (as all bartenders are keepers of worldly knowledge). Instead he directs them to a figure in the corner.

As the party approaches the man in a hooded cloak, they note that his clothes, though old, worn and no longer in fashion are never-the- less, clean and serviceable. By the light of the fireplace they can see weird designs on his shirt and cap that he wears.  Though he seems to carry a sword, other instruments of death and destruction can be seen peaking out of his high hard boots and a backpack that is close to his feet. As the strangers approach, they can see he is petting a cat. The feline growls a warning, but is hushed by the man with a ‘shh.’

The man raises his head to take in the new arrivals. He has a short goatee starting to grey. His eyes are a lighter shade of green than his cat; and if you could see into them you would get that they had seen much. Laugh lines and a few wrinkles around his eye and mouth make his age hard to determine. He leans back a bit in the booth, as his bulk takes up most of the bench. He reaches for a mug of something, but doesn't lift to drink. He gazes at the leader of this party, who has come seeking knowledge to help them on their myriad of untold adventures yet to come.

This man seated before them is called O.G. by friends and comrades. The rest know him as The Old Gamer.

“So, you want the knowledge that I and others like me, have gleamed over the years; hoping to cheat death and improve your social and economical levels. Hmph. You young ones don’t know really know about those that went before you. They paved the way. They are honored names; if you are even familiar with them. Always remember; you are standing on the shoulders of others who were like you at one time. And we didn't have any one to turn for advice. We made it up as we went along.”

He takes a sip from the mug and smacks his lips, “Ah. That’s the stuff. This,” and he shakes the mug at them spilling some, “is what you need to fortify yourself for a night of adventuring. It is the tried and true of most gamers; it is the Dew of the Mountains. Good stuff. You can get it in 2 liters, 6 or 12 pack. There, that’s some advice.”

Those standing before him looked unimpressed.

“What? Something more than drink advice? Well, if I must. Grab a seat. You standing there makes me nervous; can’t see the whole bar.” With that he puts down the cat, which immediately scampers off.

Reaching for a bowl that held chips and other snackables, he stuffed in a mouthful and chewed. “This,” and he holds up some popcorn before eating it, “reminds me of chickens.” He pauses. “Now I can see by the looks on your faces what you are thinking; No, I’m not drunk or pulling your leg and my mother had me tested; I am not crazy. See; this is what I mean about you young ones. You think you know it all.” He grabs another handful of popcorn but just looked at it.

“Back in the day, it was pretty much dungeon delving to get the gold and goodies. There was always something big, nasty and mean guarding the stuff; usually a lot of them. One group I hooked up with took some live chickens with them when we went down into this one dungeon.”

Taking a long pull of his drink, his eyes went back to another time and another place.

“Well, we cleared out a few rooms and redistributed various items and gold from their previous owners to our own packs. Seemed pretty easy. That was until our fighter kicked in this one door and we rushed in. I’m not sure what it was or how many; I just know that we were in it deep. We ran.”

Looking at his listeners, “Don’t give me those looks, I didn't stutter. We ran. Don’t think you have to stand and fight everything you meet. There is no disgrace when you meet something bigger and more bad-ass than you. In any case, we all took off down the hall-way. But these things were right behind us, and gaining!”

He laughed now, “Man did they smell.  Anyway, here is where this party’s smarts saved our hides. As we ran, they opened up the sacks that had the chickens in them and let them go. Besides lightening the load, we just gave the big baddies some free chicken dinners. Well they fell on those feathered things like nothing else. We heard a few squawks and then nothing.  I didn't take the time to look back, but I have a feeling there was nothing left but a few feathers.

“Those chickens provided us with a diversion, and gave those things a meal that didn't put up a fight. It took us 2 more days to get out of there. We needed to get back to town and get a few more swords. And chickens.”

He takes another healthy pull and pops a few kernels into his mouth as he watches what he said sink in. Smirking a bit, “Good; I can see you are starting to think unconventionally. And that may save your life.”

Making a show of looking around the tavern, he then focuses back on his listeners, “Now this other bit of ‘chicken-sense’ came about…oh I’d say 5 years ago.” He had lowered his voice so just the listeners could hear him. “While this might make some of the goody-two shoes a bit queasy; it’s effective. A group I was with had this mage. He was a bit…different. He too carried chickens. As we descended into a underground fortification, he took a chicken out, killed it and then cast animate dead animals. So it was a zombie chicken under his command. He then cast some spells on it; one was that whenever it took any kind of damage, it would explode. He then commanded it to walk ahead of the party about 20 feet. So if it ran into a trap, it exploded. If something was hiding ahead and attacked the chicken, it exploded giving us a chance to get ready and causing damage to whatever had attacked the undead chicken.”

He could see the skeptical looks on some of their faces, “I saw it with my own eyes. Disturbing, messy and effective, all at the same time.”

Yawning, “Well, that’s going to do with the advice giving for the evening. Go out and think unconventionally and you might just make it back to share what you have learned with a group of new adventurers.”

Signaling for another drink he yawned again. “Tell you what; come back after you've been out and I will tell you some more tales. I heard of this tree-preacher mage made a good living at it; telling about magic items, spells , monsters and all other things. Now what was his name again? Oak, wood….no Elm-something or another. In any case; good luck and well met.”