As in my earlier actual play reports, small green text indicates out of character talk, mechanics and other game aspects outside of the fiction.
Our main characters are:
- Gator (the Gunlugger) is an assassin and part-time bodyguard who wears customized scrounged armor made from Kevlar and ceramic inserts. Camouflaged for the jungle, his face was ruined in a fight with an alligator. His eyes are always sizing things up and his brutal life has left his body a hard sheet of muscle. He runs a a gang of mercenaries and is recovering from being blown up.
- Jarhead (the Savvyhead) is a thin African-American man with a short goatee, long dreads, and clothes covered in pockets and gear. Travelling around in an old news van, he repairs items for a living. He is investigating a device that can bend space and time. He has also obtained employees in the form of a young woman Allison and her brother Waters as well as a little girl named Memo.
- November Orleans (the Skinner) is descended from a family which left New Orleans before it sank. She is a beautiful woman of mixed heritage with dark eyes and skin, a sweet face and lush body. She dresses herself in a mix of scavenged clothing that somehow works together and wears a necklace made from rows of antique coins which jingle and shine as she moves. Her main profession is as a dancer, especially belly dancing, but she has a sideline business in cooking and animal training. Oh and now she works for the "gods".
- Violet Jefferson (the Touchstone) is descended by survivalists and her clothing and gear reflects her origins. Plain looking but fit, she carries a pocket copy of the Federalist papers and founding documents of the United States of America, an idea she hopes to revive. Her followers are demanding her help to liberate Miami from a tyrant.
Start of Session
We begin by highlighting:- Jarhead gets Hot (from November) and Weird highlighted.
- November highlights Hot (from Violet) and Sharp.
- Violet gets Cool (from November) and Hard.
My infant son then babbles away. We joke that he’s playing the hardholder (in other words White).
”Is that how much trouble I’m in Sebastian?” Violet asks.
As I whisper to him what trouble is coming, November says, “Sebastian says let them all burn!”
”The MC will refrain from making further comments,” I say, looking at my notes.
- Finally Gator highlights Sharp (from November) and Cool once he arrives.
”We’ve got to strike while the iron is hot!” November says.
”At least they are not deserting,” Violet says.
”I kinda hope that guy was deserting. You know who I’m talking about.”
Betrayal
We begin with Jarhead.Jarhead pokes around the truck as the cultists whoop for joy. He winces with each cry.
“Hey the war is over!” One shouts.
“We dealt with half of White’s gang,” Brin says. “There’s no way he can strike now.”
Jubilant, the white-robed men and women wander away, leaving the tinker and his assistants alone in the foundry with a half-finished armored truck. Jarhead sighs looking at the work left to do.
I point out he could buy slaves to speed up the work.
”You feel better about yourself when people give you slaves,” November says.
He wanders to the medical equipment. Fuse breathes slowly and quietly. “He’s going to need another week,” Jarhead says.
The tinkerer grabs a mirror and checks out his own wounds. The pain in his head doesn’t seem to be going away. Who can I trust with some brain surgery, he thinks.
Jarhead is at 3-harm. To bring that down to 2-harm with his workshop (so he can heal naturally), he needs someone with first aid expertise and it will expose himself to (mental) danger. The harm that pushed him over edge was psychic.
I suggest Violet.
I also tell Gator to heal down to 1-harm as he joins us.
Next we jump to Violet.
Violet stalks through the tunnels beneath the Music Bowl. The roar of the foundry grows louder and louder. As she passes a crowd of priests, her mind jumps to the trouble with the Militia. A.T. lying in a coma, tended by a few under-equipped nurses. No one clear on who should be giving the orders. Too many guns in too many itchy fingers.
She spies the one man with the medical expertise and tools to save A.T.
Jarhead turns to find her behind him. “Oh.”
“Hello,” she says. “Are you were aware of what happened to A.T.?”
“Who?” he says, a throbbing pain stabbing at his eye.
“The leader of the Militia.”
Jarhead rubs his eye. “No I don’t know.”
“His vehicle got hit by a mine during the battle,” she explains.
“Is he okay?” he asks absently.
Violet frowns. “I was hoping you could help with that since you have a medbay.”
“Oh I thought you wanted me to fix the car.” Jarhead stammers, “I mean yeah. Wait! Do you have first aid experience?”
Violet raises an eyebrow. “Enough to get by.”
“Interesting. Are you squeamish? Do you faint at the sight of blood?”
“No,” she says.
”Good job being weird,” November adds.
“I have a proposition for you,” he says leaning in. “And A.T. is hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I mean bad for him. So here’s the thing, I’ve got these holes in my body and I don’t like them there. How about I help you fix A.T., which is a weird name when you think about it, and you help me with these wounds?”
As Jarhead points to the bruises on his head and body, Violet notes a blood stain from one of his ears. “I help fix you and you help fix him?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Violet looks the quirky man closely. “Alright I think you got a deal.”
“Cool.”
Violet leaves to tell the Militia while Jarhead gets his equipment ready.
We cut to November.
November runs over last night’s dream. The ritual bleeding, the prayer to the gods, the blood sinking into the earth. If I empower them and they will help me.
November rolls read a person for her dream since the “gods” are sort of people. She gets a 10. She marks experience and advances. She raises her sharp.
”What do they intend to do (with this power)?” she asks.
I look over their front for a goal.
”Are they telling the truth (about giving power)?”
Yes.
”How could I get the gods to reveal more of their true selves to me?”
”You can build trust by working with them.”
She recalls images of blood stained pyramids, sacrifices to grease gears of universe. These “gods” seek power for its own sake. They are honest but ravenous. The only way they will trust me is if I work with them. She shivers.
That means killing Cougar, she thinks as she passes by the makeshift prison. Six guards stand ready at the entrance to one of the gym shower rooms. One way in and out. And Violet will question her in only a few hours. I need a distraction.
We cut to Gator’s dreams.
Gator shifts in his sleep as someone calls his name.
“Gator.”
The voice is faint but familiar. Smells of the swamp and alcohol waft through the mists of his mind.
“Gator.”
Gator looks through the murky swamp. A tall thin figure stands at the edge of his vision. Faint beams of sunlight glint off one of the man’s eyes.
“You’re dead,” he tells Gunge.
“I know,” the figure replies.
“What’s it like to be dead?” the weary mercenary calls out.
“It’s not what I expected,” Gunge says. With each syllable, he grows closer and louder until he stands next to his old friend.
Gator reads a charged sitch since he is talking to a dead man in his dreams. He gets a 12 which means he can ask any three questions (Gator has Read a sitch advanced). He also gains experience.
”Is it really Gunge? Is he dangerous to me?”
Gator looks at his old friend. Somehow he knows he is dreaming but that Gunge isn’t a dream. Even so he sees wisps of the swamp leaking through Gunge’s form. His friend seems hollow, empty, a phantom he could sweep away with one arm.
“It is you,” Gator says slowly.
“It is good to see you again,” Gunge says scratching his dirty hair.
“Sorry about the climbers,” Gator says before adding, “You’re an idiot. I told you not to leave.”
Gunge shrugs.
“We could’ve gotten you to the Autodoc,” Gator adds.
“The Autodoc?” Gunge asks. “Where are you? Where’s this Autodoc?”
“Near Miami. Where are you?”
Gunge looks around. “Not really sure. Someone asked me to speak to you.”
“Who?” Gator asks.
“I don’t know him. He said his name was Sir Fredricks.”
“Sir Fredricks?”
Gunge nods. “That’s a strange name isn’t it?”
“A little weird,” the mercenary admits. “Where is he?”
Gunge points out into the mist. “Somewhere out there. He said it was important to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“He said there was trouble on the horizon,” Gunge says furrowing his brow. “Things are changing.”
“Shit is brewing in Miami,” Gator says impatiently. “What does that have to do with me?”
Gunge shifts his feet in the muck. “He said it had to do with a woman. She sounded like November. He thinks she’s involved in something dangerous.”
“Well she’s with us,” he says plainly. “We are not danger adverse.”
Gunge scratches his head. “He said a lot of things. I didn’t really understand them all. Stuff about secret projects and technical stuff. He said there was someone who might understand. He mentioned two names:White and Jarhead.”
“I know Jarhead but what does White have to do with it?”
Gunge searches the mud before facing his friend. “He said they could contact him. They would understand what he is talking about. I guess he said that he could explain it to them.”
“How do I get them to talk to him?” Gator asks, peering closely at the one-eyed man.
Something slithers through the space where Gunge’s legs should be. “I don’t know, he said they would know.”
“Okay I’ll try to tell them,” he sighs.
“I got to go,” Gunge says faintly.
Gator half reaches for him. “Before you go, you are dead and all. Did you leave anything around I should know about? I know you kept lots of stuff around.”
“I think you took it all,” he replies, the light bleeding through him.
“I have your map,” Gator says quickly. “What do the symbols mean?”
“I can’t stay too long.” Gunge’s voice fades away. “But the ‘B’ stands for a bunker. I could never get in....”
Gunge’s form melts into the mist, leaving Gator alone in the swamp. With nothing else to do he wanders into the fog.
As Gator looks for trouble, I break to get dinner.
Meanwhile November asks, “is everybody cool with me going slightly evil?"
Violet says, "Out of character that your decision. In character, Violet would probably have a problem with that."
Gator comments, "it's Apocalypse World. My character is not good or evil.
"My character just does things," Jarhead says.
Talk turns to the weather where my East coast players contend with -20 temperatures (with wind chill). I understand but I had to deal with far worse when I was in the Midwest.
We jump to deal with Violet and the Militia.
Violet finds the makeshift camp clustered in the shadow of the Music Bowl. One tent stands out, surrounded by armed men and women talking anxiously and glancing at the entrance.
“Is he getting better?” a crewcut woman asks.
“He still hasn’t woken up. The nurses say his heartbeat is irregular,” a bandaged man tells her.
Violet pushes through the crowd. Snatches of conversation reach her. “Internal bleeding.” “Doesn’t sound good.” “They say it’s a coma.”
At the tent door, she runs up against Mox’s towering figure.
“What is it?” the dark-skinned man asks her.
“I think I might have found a way to help your boss,” she explains. “One of my friends has built a medbay. He’s agreed to let us make use of it. With your permission we could take him there and help stop the bleeding.”
I ask her to roll Manipulate a person. It’s Violet’s worst stat. She gets a 3.
Mox shakes his head slowly. “I’m sorry I can’t make that decision for him. I have to let the Lieutenant do that.”
“The Lieutenant?” she asks.
“Yes,” Mox says scratching his bandaged arm. “She should be here this afternoon.”
Violet nods. “I’ll come back and talk to her then.”
Mox looks away quickly. “If you want.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
Mox turns to her. “It’s your choice. Lieutenant is not one to listen to outsiders though.”
Then I have to grab the veggies for dinner and talk turns to movies & TV. Apparently Violet is upset about Kirk’s decisions in The Mark of Gideon. Meanwhile November has lots to say about the Arrow & Flash which I may need to discuss on our podcast at some point.
When I get back I ask Violet to Read a person. She gets a 10.
“What would help you let Jarhead patch up A.T.? Time may be of the essence. We can’t really wait that long.”
Mox stammers. “I have to follow the nurses’ advice. I know they know what they are doing. I don’t know about your friends skills”
“If I talk to the nurses and they approve it, would that convince you?”
“Well they are taking care of him now so I guess if they think he’s better off in your care then what else have we got.”
Violet looks around. She spots Millions and hurries over.
Back to Jarhead.
Jarhead putters around the medbay, setting up the workshop for his brain surgery. He glances at Waters as the boy keeps an eye on the cooling augury. With luck the device will be fully functional by this afternoon.
Allison walks over. “Have you seen Memo?”
“Last time I saw her, she was in the van,” he says, the pain leaking into his jaw.
“Ok I’ll go look.”
“If she’s not I’ll yell at her,” Jarhead calls after her.
Next I touch base with November.
November’s plan is to get some explosives and create an explosion at the other shower room where the rest of White’s men are kept. This will draw some of the guards away from Cougar. Then she will call Cougar to her at place of her choosing (via Lost). There she will kill her in an elaborate ritual. She decides to set up her ritual chamber in the infected mushroom farm below the Music Bowl.
So her next step is to find explosives. She decides to seduce someone from Militia.
Next Gator.
Gator wanders through the murky realm of his dreams. A thick mist hides everything more than a dozen yards away. The ground ranges from thick mud to waist-high water. Occasionally something swirls the muck from below.
I have him roll weird. He gets a 4.
Suddenly a shape emerges from the mist. The stick-like figure approaches him. Despite her grayed hair and starved form, Gator recognizes his wife. Her dead empty eyes see through him. “Adam!” she cries. “Where were you?”
Gator rolls to read a sitch and gets a 4. “I’m so doomed,” he comments. At least he marks experience.
Rose seems much more solid than Gunge, moving in hitches and jumps. One moment she stands thirty feet away, obscured by mist. Another moment and her hands wave inches from his face. “Adam! You never came! I cried and cried every night and you never came. You never came for me or Gabi.”
“Who took you?” he asks the walking corpse.
She twitches, her knotted hair shifting to expose a painful brand. “They were a biker gang. They grabbed us and sold us. I tried to get away but my owner burned me.” Her eyes lock on his again. “I prayed for you to come to come save us. But you never came.”
“I tried. I couldn’t find you,” he says backing away. “You were gone.”
“You couldn’t save us, you couldn’t save me.” she mumbles.
I ask, “how long ago was all of this?”
He says he was 23 when it happened which was about 10 years ago.
“Where are you?” he asks.
“I’m dead!!” she screams drawing closer. “I died and Gabi hates you!”
”That’s harsh,” Jarhead comments.
“She’s still alive?” he shouts back. “Where is she?”
“She hates you,” she screams, her body growing thinner, more skeletal. “Why didn’t come to save us?!”
As she moves to attack I have Gator roll acting under fire. He gets 9 and marks experience.
Bony hands reach for him, clawing at his clothes and armor. He tries to run, his feet sinking into the mire. Hands press down on him. Straps hold down his legs. A light flashes in his eyes.
“Hold him down! Hold him down!” someone shouts.
As he struggles to free himself, a figure says, “we need more sedative. Knock him out.”
He feels a pain in his arm and suddenly everything goes dark. Truly dark. Gator sleeps and doesn’t dream.
I gave him a chance to act and he chose to hesitate. So dreamless coma for him.
Violet presses through the crowd to the doll-like figure in the center. Millions looks up with dazzling blue eyes too large for a normal face. She halts her orders for packing supplies and asks, “what is it?”
“It would be really great to get A.T. on his feet as soon as possible,” she says.
“Well yes,” Millions says bluntly, “because then we could go back home.”
Before she can add any other comments, Violet explains, “I agree, which is why I wanted to suggest an alternative to the current care. A friend of mine, Jarhead?”
“I think we’ve met,” the plastic skinned nurse replies.
“While we were at the Autodoc he upgraded his workshop with medbay capabilities. I was wondering if you could check if they met your specifications. Mox said if they did he would consider putting A.T. under his care.”
Millions taps a delicate chin. “I guess we could look at it. It seems unlikely to be up to our specs but if it gets us home sooner...”
“Alright come with me,” Violet says leading the head nurse into the Music Bowl.
A few minutes later they arrive at the foundry. Millions carefully examines Jarhead’s gear as the tinkerer busies himself finishing some work on a strange metallic sphere.
“I remember this!” Millions says, delicate fingers reaching for some electrical equipment.
“Hey don’t touch any of that!” Jarhead calls out.
Millions draws back and traces the alterations and rewirings. “That’s interesting. I didn’t know you could do that with this piece of equipment.”
Jarhead limps over. “Well I needed to hook it up the other thing and so I had to finagle with the fuses.”
The head nurse scans the medbay. “Well you could take care of anything here. It is practically one of our crash rooms.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to say,” he says.
“We could take A.T. to the Autodoc but with the computer down we have nothing better than this right now.” She turns to Violet. “So sure, if you want to accept responsibility for A.T., I’ll tell Mox he would get as good care here as he would with us.”
“Wonderful,” the rugged woman replies. “The sooner we can get him on his feet the better.”
Millions nods. “I’ll talk to Mox and then we’ll arrange a transfer. We have to make sure he’s taken care of every step of the way. And we then can get home.”
As Millions hurries off, Violet’s eyes settle on a crate with a U.S. flag draped over the side. As she moves closer she asks, “where did this come from?”
“The crate?” Jarhead asks. “It was given to us by the cult dude.”
“Yeah,” Allison says joining Violet. “Wisher dropped this off. He said the cult had acquire this and they wanted us to attach it that thing.” She points to a partially armored truck.
“How did they acquire them?” Violet asks, ice slipping into her voice.
“Sometimes I don’t ask questions about where the parts come from as long as the parts work,” Jarhead says going back to work.
“They didn’t tell us,” Allison says softly.
Violet turns to Jarhead. “It might be important because the leader of the Militia is coming this way and they recently notified me about some supplies that had been purloined from them.”
“It does have an American flag in there,” Allison says quietly.
“That is not going to go over too well,” Violet adds.
“Is this their truck?” Jarhead asks, his attention focused again.
“It might very well be.”
“No I think that was salvaged,” Allison says before shrinking back.
“Well this has Militia written all over it,” Violet says pointing at the crate.
“We could hide it,” Allison says looking around.
Jarhead nods. “Let’s hide it.”
“There’s the hole in the wall,” the blond teen says. “We could put it in there.”
“The hole that leads out of the foundry?” he questions.
“Well yes,” Allison says, “but we put the blocks back up and barricaded the room.”
“Can anybody get in there besides us?” he asks.
“Probably not. The ceiling would fall on them.”
He smiles. “Good let’s put it in there. I love an old ceiling trap, those are so much fun. Loud though.”
Allison moves to push the crate. She struggles to budge it. “This is pretty heavy though.”
“Waters!” Jarhead calls out.
Allison’s brother hurries over and slowly the two wrestle the crate over while Jarhead directs them.
“The next time I talk to the council of the Music Bowl they are going to get a piece of my mind!” Violet says while the others work.
Jarhead looks up. “Trust me you don’t want to lose a piece of your mind.”
Now for November’s plan.
November slinks up to a man guarding the Militia’s armored vehicle. She smiles as the man, Hugo, turns to her, unfazed by the pox marks running down the side of his face.
“Hey baby,” the well tanned man says.
“Hey honey,’ she replies moving in close.
“What are you up to?” he asks, his eyes everywhere but on hers.
“Looking for some fun,” she smiles. “Pretty quiet after the battle. Always gets my blood up.”
Hugo settles on her cleavage. “My shift is over in about an hour,” he suggests.
“What exactly are you doing?” she asks.
“Gotta keep an eye on the vehicle. It is going to be our weapon in taking down the rest of White’s forces.”
“Still looks kind of boring around here right now,” she pouts.
“Not so boring from my point of view.”
“Yeah but it could be a lot more exciting,” she says her hand sliding up his arm.
November rolls to seduce a person and gets a 8. She fine with the consequences. She marks experience.
Hugo voice quickens as he glances about. “I have my duffle in there, I guess we can find some place comfortable.”
The pair slip inside where the thick armor plating muffles their activities.
November then rocks his world, rolls hypnotic, marks experience again and gets a soft success.
A while later, Hugo smiles up at November as she pulls a pair of grenades from the supplies. “I might need them so I can help for the coming battle,” she says, before crouching down to grab her shirt.
“They won’t miss them,” he says sleepily. “Though I heard someone stole some of our supplies. A.T. wasn’t happy. Whoever did that is going to pay.”
“If someone does notice these missing, maybe it was those guys,” she suggests, pulling on her clothing.
“Yeah those guys, that’s a good idea.”
November gives him a final kiss. “Thanks for the fun sweetie.”
Now for the action. November chooses to read a charged sitch first. She gets a 9 and gains experience. Who is in control here?
”You are.”
A half hour later, November gingerly stretches a length of fishing line around a corner. She takes a deep breath, then a short one. Then she pulls.
Down the hall the pins of the grenades pull free and a deafening explosion blows out the wall. As White’s men make their bid for freedom, November disappears into the tunnels beneath the arena.
November rolls acting under fire and gets a 10. The plan is working.
She soon reaches a carefully prepared chamber, lit by a distant fluorescent light. She whispers, “Cougar, come to me.”
She rolls Lost and gets a hard success.
Minutes before Jarhead repeats his instructions to Violet for the third time. “Just let the drill do its work and keep the blood out of my eyes. Once it punches through the bone, stop it. Then makes sure you use the bandages to stop the blood flow and bind up the hole in my head.”
Jarhead acts under fire, he gets to roll weird since he is spooky intense. He gets a 15! He marks experience and advances.
Violet nods mutely.
Jarhead starts the surgery, applying an anesthetic to the side of his head. An automated drill whirs to life, slicing through his temple and into his skull. Violet wipes the sweat off his brow and throws the switch once she hears the final crunch.
As the pressure releases on his head, Violet quickly applies the bandages to stop the bleeding and patch the wound. Jarhead slips into unconsciousness.
Jarhead considers taking Cassandra Complex or some other psychic power. I mention it fits some shamanic traditions. He literally opened his brain. “I’m a firm believer on Savvyheads performing brain surgery on themselves.”
Violet reads Jarhead’s vitals on the machines. The wiry man seems stable. She sighs.
An explosion rocks the arena.
“Now what!” she shouts.
“That sounds like it came from the other side of the Music Bowl,” Allison says jumping to her feet.
“Allison keep an eye on him,” Violet orders. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid when he wakes up. And make sure he isn’t retarded or anything. I’m going to go check that explosion.”
“Okay,” the younger woman says. “If you see Memo you should tell her to come back here.”
“I’ll do that.”
Come back in two weeks when we find out who wins: Violet or November.
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