Apocalyptic Interlude

I’ve bought a new keyboard to replace the one I kind of ruined last week. Updates will continue circa wednesday.

My main Shadowrun group has taken a break from running to play some Apocalypse World, created by Vincent Baker, to prevent some GM burnout.

AW is a more narrative-based game with more rigid-yet-intensely-interesting “classes” called playbooks. Last night’s game had a situation worth sharing.

Our three heroes strolled into a shithole called Haven and discovered the previous owners had been the subject of a hostile merger by some slavers and the one-thriving community was now pretty beaten up. Less than half the people remained in the town and a few folks they’d met in past travels had been killed or enslaved.

But first, a word about our heroes: We had “D” a Gunlugger. Gunluggers are to AW what street samurais are to Shadowrun. Bad news if you’re in their way. He had been traveling with an Angel named Doc Cyst. The good doctor traveled around what remains of southern california plying his trade and generally keeping to himself. They were joined by an odd fellow named Cooper DeBrainer whose ability to mind control folks was invaluable- for himself.

After a brief bullet-ridden interview that left a half dozen of the town’s new Boss’s men dead, they made a deal with him to work in exchange for room, board, and not being tortured to death before being shot. No one ever said Tweed, the new boss, didn’t give a fair offer.

Which brought us up to date to last session where our motley band was joined by President Franzizco, a hedonistic Maestro’D who drives around a party bus to bring a little joy to the lives of anyone able to pay for the show. And if everyone is too hungover, gorged, and strung out to stop his crew from doing a little intimate looting… so much the better.

Let’s skip ahead a bit. The climax of last night’s session happened after President slit Tweed’s fucking throat, concluding an awkward mexican standoff. Before the trio, sans “D”, could get back to the party bus, a naked woman with a claymore attempted a different scottish pastime with President Franzizco as the ball.

A few hours earlier, President had talked his way into throwing a big bash by showing up with a hella lot of food and drugs. It helps when the people you’re visiting have had a rough couple weeks and really needed the outlet.

At the party, he hooked up his new friends with a little of everything and decided he wanted to GTFO around sunup and maybe leave a little poison for Tweed. Doc Cyst agreed with his plan, remembering the dear departed Doctor Ruth who  Tweed disposed of, and helped him set up the poisoning.

All well and good, right? Just another day in the life.

Thing is, while “D” slept off his drinking and Cooper found a little something on the side, ole’ Doc brought himself to the attention of a nasty woman and Tweed’s Lieutenant. She took her boss the poisoned food and came back to fool around with the doc.

Cyst, by this point stoned, went off with her hoping for some fun. After all, anyone who could find tight-fitting leather pants after the armageddon has to have some moves. He, alas, realized she was taking him as a hostage too late.

Fortunately, Cooper and President went after him. They confronted her, she put Doc at big fuckoff sword point and things got a little tense. Then Tweed and a few of his boys showed up and it started really going south.

While delivering a slow-drawl speech about how things is gonna be, Tweed fell to his knees and started vomiting blood and chunky bits. President grabbed the holder and the Doc’s attempt to get away from the crazy naked woman with a sword ran into a problem when some crazed kraut with an automatic weapons drew down on him.

Why was she naked now? Don’t ask.

I love the scent of Mexican standoff at 5:00 am.

Cooper tried and failed to mind probe folks. But finally got to the bottom of Tweed’s mysterious resistance to psychic powers by opening his brain to the World’s Psychic Maelstrom. Tweed used to be psychic himself before forcibly severing himself from the World’s Psychic Maelstrom. Not that it protects him from sharp knives.

Everyone kind of walked away slowly as Pres backed towards his loaded up catering van. After Cooper came out of his vision, he found the ally this went down in empty with not a single naked woman with a big sword in sight.

Cooper, still holding Tweed’s shotgun, went towards the van to try and help his friends end the standoff but he himself got slammed on the ground and drawn down on. Normally, a Brainer of Cooper’s calibur is strange enough they can rely on people not understanding how their powers work.

Alas, Tweed briefed his most trusted guards and the Standoff deepened.

With a hero’s courage, Cooper chose to let himself get shot to mind-control the guard into shooting the friend who had the doc at gunpoint. Doc himself had decided to come to the same conclusion and tried quick drawing his pistol and shooting the guy holding The Coop.

Guard A shoots Cooper. Cooper Grabs Guard A. Doc Quick Draws his pistol. Guard B shoots Doc. Guard A feels compelled to shoot Guard B and does. And Doc shoots Guard B.

All the while Franzizco leaves a big old Joker smile in Tweed’s fucking throat.

Mexican stand-off? Mexican Sit-down.

Somewhat bullet ridden, the trio found themselves alone on the main street except for President’s van driving up and fancy-driving the back end of it in front of them. “D” opened the back of the van, heavily hung over and discovered, not the bloodied but unbowed heads of his so-called friends. He found something far more terrible.

He found love.

More specifically, he found a petite, naked blonde woman carving a chunk out of President Franzizco’s side with a godforsaken claymore. Eyes blazing with cold anger.

He found his goddess.

And when he attempted calm her down with his shotgun, she charged at him and began to hack at “D.”

He took her claymore and asked her out. She spit in his face. He asked her what kinds of food she liked. She tried to bite his throat out. He held her back with his shotgun’s barrel. She tried to claw out his eyes and he tried to calm her down.

It’s almost like he didn’t remember a few weeks earlier when he’d killed her brother.

In the end, it wasn’t “D” but President Franzizco who decided the day. The President took his fuckoff big Chef’s knife and sunk it deep in her back. Between her earlier blood loss and the knife digging into her spine she dropped.

“D” demanded to know what the fuck and shot at, but missed, the President. A brief, but intense debate over the woman’s relative virtues and tresspasses followed and gave Franzizco’s crew, quite unhappy to see their boss shot at for defending himself as any sane God would agree was right and proper, drew down on the Gunlugger.

Would reason prevail? Could Love be denied? Would everyone walk away happily?

The answers turned out as: No, yes and no, and no.

“D” shot again, missed again, damnable hangovers. The goons riddled him with bullets, proving that while you can’t stop Love from trying, stopping from succeeding just takes a few ounces of lead.

And “D” died as he lived: Trying to murder someone for ill-defined and probably not very good reasons.

Doc, naturally, attempted to save his holy friend but flubbed the roll. There was a lot of that last night.

Friendships were made, lost, and alliances formed. A power gap was blown out and in the end Doc and Cooper Debrainer joined President’s merry band.

Exit, Stage left. Before anyone wakes up to find their valuables and boss missing.

I’ll say it again: I fucking love Apocalypse World.