Cthulhu post mortem

I’ll be the first to admit that I'm not the best at running a serious game. My style is laid back and I tend to joke around. But this Cthulhu game was a special request for a mate who’s headed overseas. A final roll of the dice with the old crew. You need to be in the right mindset for a Call of Cthulhu session. A few weeks back we weren’t but we soldiered through to the end of a quality scenario - Edge of Darkness.

Where it went wrong:

• No pre-generated characters prepared. While the players came up with some Cthulhu staple careers: cop, criminal and professor they set the tone of the evening by creating a 100 year old arsonist/butcher, a randy Tom Baker with a mean streak and a wrestler cop that would have been at home in a Naked Gun film were it not for his brutality. When it comes to pre-gens I think including a picture will help players get into character.
• I started the group separated. Each had a mini roleplay moment as we brought them together at the hospital. This is generally an excuse for players to muck around. It’s why I start all my D&D games these days at the entrance to the dungeon. You need to start the session with a bang to set the tone for the evening.
• No props. Having the Latin chant prepared that would go on to be used to unsummon the beast would have been a good idea. The ritual is where the tempo of the adventure picks up. It is the heart of this adventure.
• I didn’t take charge and set the tone from the beginning. While I had read through the adventure twice and taken some notes I felt like I was scrambling. I spent some time going over things and highlighting passages while the players created characters. Things would have gone much better if I had been ready to kick off right from the get go.

Things went well enough but could have gone so much better. Cthulhu needs more prep and player buy in order to be successful than a simple game of D&D.

Enough whining! Here are some things that happened:

• A police car was parked on the curb across a hospital entrance. It was left with lights flashing and sirens blazing while its owner paid a visit to a dying professor.
• A grieving son who dared to question who the players were and why they were there was answered with a spear tackle and then handcuffed to a radiator in the hospital hall.
• Liquorice allsorts (think jelly babies) were employed as both bribes to grease bureaucracies wheels and weapons to be tossed at uncooperative npcs.
• Doctors were threatened with guns and nurses pelted with liquorice.
• A small town shop keep was intimidated, threatened with a gun and cajoled in a desperate attempt to get information she simply didn’t have.
• A homeless man was encouraged to risk his life exploring an attic. He sensibly declined and ran for his life.
• Our hero cop went mad during the ritual unsummoning at the sight of the living dead.
• Our criminal hero dismembered the undead farmer’s wife with his shotgun as he targeted each limb systematically. Being a hardened criminal he was not unduly disturbed by his butchery.
• The good professor ended the scenario with his eyes closed, ears blocked and a tenuous grip on sanity. He had continued the chant through to dawn, banishing the fiend and saving the day.
• A house was set alight to obliterate the evidence. Arson solves most problems in an rpg.

Continuity and the Cthulhu Campaign

Hint: African magic is never beneficial

How is a second batch of investigators meant to pick up the pieces from a failed investigation? The various conceits such as prior investigators leaving detailed notes always rang false to me. One option could be to play policemen investigating the disappearance of the prior investigators and then trying hard not to act on knowledge these fresh characters wouldn’t have. I must admit I find it hard not to meta-game in these situations. How do you keep sensible continuity vital to the believability of a clue laden Cthulhu story after a party wipe? Which leads me to a second thought.

Can you fail in a role-playing game? As people say character death and insanity in Cthulhu are expected and yet it’s still an odd feeling to have a character perish. My character in Cthulhu is probably dead and that’s OK. I suspect my next character will be a lot more paranoid and I’ll probably power game his stats as much as I can so that I pass those critical rolls. I have to wonder if you’re playing Cthulhu in the spirit of the game if you have martial arts, explosives and shotguns at 95%? Here’s what could well amount to Monty’s last tale:

Well this is a grim situation we find ourselves in. It seems the questionable folk of the Juju house were indeed cultists. I had suspected as much but chose the noble path of not giving in to racial stereotyping and this is the result it seems. Struck down by invisible Nubian warriors. In the dead of night the blighters are difficult to see. I would tell you of events from the start so that in the likely event that I am sacrificed to some nameless bloody tongued god you may pick up the pieces and continue the investigation. I trust you shall be more paranoid than I and shoot all those of colour on sight. This could of course become problematic should your investigations lead you to Kenya. Regardless here is what transpired before my present predicament.

Our first trip to Harlem was an unpleasant affair. Drunks abound in this ghetto. The Juju house sold African gewgaws of little consequence. Our enquiries of the old shop owner got us an introduction to Mokungo who we were to meet late that night. I noticed a key about the shop owner’s neck and ascertained that there was a basement beneath the shop. An inner voice told me to pull a gun on the owner but I resisted the temptation for such would be the actions of a mad man. Oh how I regret not acting on that instinct now.

It's ones duty to formulate an escape plan

We left the Juju house with little to show for our efforts except for the feeling that the African was hampering our investigations. Instead we turned our attention to Erica Carlysle, sister of the clearly doomed expedition leader Roger Carlyle. We got her attention by hinting that her brother was still alive. This got us our audience, where Erica told us of a Nubian princess who had bent Roger to her will. She also provided us with several texts that gave her the heebee jeebees. In addition she told us of Roger’s constant nightmares but not what they were about, as Roger would not tell anyone. Finally she signed a letter giving us access to his psychiatric records.

We had an 8 o’clock appointment with Mokungo and returned to the Juju house. Suspecting skulduggery we staked out the shop for a good 10 minutes. Seeing no one enter and deciding we had best see what was afoot we headed in. Mokungo was there as was Silas the storeowner. Not liking the situation I chose to remain at the door and watch the alley while Dr Raymond Howser approached the Africans and engaged them in a short conversation. I recall a panicked shriek from Dr Raymond just prior to being struck on the head by a metal object. We had fallen into a trap and it is most unlikely that we shall survive. 

Call of Cthulhu is a nifty game

I didn’t play Cthulhu till I was out of high school. I’d been playing a number of ‘thespy’ White Wolf style games for a few years and got a kick out of the low power, ‘your doomed’ vibe the game gave off.

I dig playing the average Joe trapped in a terrible situation that gets progressively worse. The first character I played was an antique dealer who was thrown out of a window by malevolent forces, banished an evil spirit trapped in a roof space, sledgehammered a desiccated wizard to his second death before finally being consumed by a slime monster living in the walls of a mansion. In Gary’s current game I’m playing a detective with some incredibly low skills. I am amazed when I pass any sort of roll.

Which leads me to another point I really like about Cthulhu, the rules simplicity and transparency. With head butt 50% you can expect to land a blow with your bonce half the time. This coupled with the games rules light approach appeals to me. In the last three sessions I have rolled five or six times. The game has focussed on gathering clues, following up leads and asking pertinent questions.

In the last game we:

·       Learned the rumoured demise of the Carlyle expedition was greatly exaggerated.

·       The Carlyle expedition survivors want to open a gate to a madness inducing realm.

·       Cops are not always the enemy and may help you with useful information. Who knew? Rather than arrest us for fleeing the scene of a grisly murder the police helped us with additional information on a series of ritual killings before sending us on our way.

·       White folks in the 1920’s were awfully suspicious of Africans. No doubt they are up to no good with their voodoo witchcraft.

·       The Cult of the Bloody Tongue, based in a mountain hideout in Africa, are active worldwide. Surely they are guilty of killing my friend Elijah Jackson for getting too close to the shocking truth!

With just Roger and me playing we are going to have to be particularly cunning to come out of this alive. A trip to Harlem to see a Voodoo priest is on the cards. It’s a good thing we have back up characters.

Someone left a clue in this bin

Monty likes researching at the library

Yes, me again, you old pal Monty. Things have taken a turn from the horrific, with the grisly murder of my friend, to the academic with our tirelessly slogging through high society gossip pieces. We fled the scene of Elijah Jackson's murder and stopped in for a quick drink at the local speak easy. A shot of bourbon soon calmed my nerves. I don't understand these Americans and ther temperence movements. A man needs a stiff drink I say, particularly after witnessing a ritualistic murder. From a backrom in the speak easy me and my archaeologist friend Dr Raymond Howser MD did our best to form a plan from the myriad of clues before us. Should we check hospitals for gunshot victims? If you recall in my last correspondence I had shot a murdering cultist in the back as he fled the scene.

Or should we look into the members of the expedition? We could do some research based on the items we had found on the deceased - matchbooks and lecture tickets. Surely there was a greater mystery afoot that would take some time and careful study to unravel.

After vigorous debate we decided to visit the 'News of the World', a dreary tabloid full of celebrity scandal and gossip.  Sadly we were turned away on account of the late hour. We had decided to begin our investigation after two or three bourbons and found it was close to eleven at night. The night watch man was not helpful insisting that the journalists and archivists had all gone to bed. If you ask me they have no right to the title of journalist. A real journalist would be out there breaking news at all hours. The news and likewise the presses never stop. I told the night watchman as much to which he smugly replied that the presses were working but the journalists had gone to bed. I should have struck him with my cane for his impertinent tone alone.

Crestfallen, we left the scene, but then the most fortunate thing occurred. Despite the late hour and the mist rolling in off the bay, I noted a discarded stack of news papers in a nearby bin. The title ,'Carlisle plans idiotic expedition', got my attention for it was the Carlisle expedition that my good friend Elijah Jackson had got himself entangled in prior to his untimely death. The paper was most enlightening and so my friend and I decided to dedicate the folowing day to research at the papers archive. This location was known lovingly as 'The Pit'. We discovered a great deal about the members of the ill fated expedition and the doom that befell the group as they explored the dark continent. All this thanks to the discarded newspaper that as it tuned out was years out of date. Destiny I should think though perhaps a further sign that something supernatural was afoot. I have collated my notes made at the time. I trust they will be enlightening.

Meticulously kept investigative notes.

Cthulhu, Nyarlathotep and an English Gentleman

A likeness of the esteemed author of this letter.

Well old chap I suppose you must be wondering what this is all about? Why has Monty left me these letters? The truth is that someone will need to know what has transpired in the unfortunate case of my incapacitation, incarceration or untimely death. It is my steadfast conviction that the nefarious organisation who perpetrated a monstrous murder is brought to account, if not by myself then by someone following in my footsteps.

I shall begin at the beginning as is prudent. I had received a telegram from a confidant, the accomplished author and expert on the occult Elijah Jackson. He had information concerning the Carlisle expedition and informed me of his immanent arrival. Not knowing the importance nor the significance of the Carlisle expedition, and not being in a position to ask given that I was reading from a telegram, I immediately used my telephone to call Dr Raymond Howser MD who is the world’s leading light in the field of Phrenology and who also finds time to indulge his penchant for archaeology. The Dr was dismissive of my enquiries fobbing me off with an Egyptian anecdote. In truth I doubt the Dr knew much of the Carlisle expedition in the first place though his mention of it being a ‘doomed expedition’ held the ring of truth.

A few days later I received a most unsettling call from Elijah Jackson himself. He had arrived in New York and wished to meet at his hotel room at 8 pm. He then abruptly disconnected the line before I could ask the most elementary of questions. Sensing something was desperately wrong I immediately called Dr Howser to persuade the amateur archaeologist to meet with me immediately whence forth we would endeavour to reach Elijah expeditiously. Getting Dr Howser to attend to the matter urgently proved fruitless as he had prior engagements and so I used the local metropolitan train to pay an urgent and unannounced visit to Mr Jackson’s Hotel room.

I must confess to using some subterfuge in attempting to gain access to Mr Jackson’s room.  This should come as no surprise given my current profession. The concierge revealed that Elijah was out but that did not allay my fears for my friends safety. I gained access to the level on which Elijah was staying and tried the door to his room. Much to my consternation it was locked and no amount of ‘tampering’ with the blasted lock would aid in it’s opening. Cursing my ill fortune I scouted the outside of the hotel but could not discern an appropriate fire escape that would grant me access to Elijah’s hotel room.

At this juncture Dr Raymond Howser MD deemed it necessary to grace us with his presence. It seemed the urgency of my call had alarmed him after all and he had cancelled his meetings for the day. We returned to the hotel lobby where in the Dr caused a scene by trying to bribe the concierge and then, upon being rebuffed, threatened to call the police. I swiftly ushered him from the foyer and across the road where we partook of some light refreshments while we awaited Elijah’s return. I could not shake the ‘bad feeling’ I had.

A good 20 minutes prior to our meeting time we returned to the hotel, ascended in the lift and knocked briskly upon Elijah’s door. With no response I had little choice but to break down the door. What I saw beyond was a scene of horror but certainly no worse than the aftermath of a good old fashioned trench shelling as I experienced first hand on many an occasion during my stint with the British army. Raymond was stunned yet I had the presence of mind to notice a fleeing figure heading towards the fire escape. I drew my .45 and fired a single round that hit the scoundrel square between the shoulders. Incredulously the villain survived and continued fleeing at such rapid pace that before I could fire another shot he had vanished into a waiting black automobile and fled the scene.

I now have the unfortunate task to describe the scene that had so unmanned the good Dr. My acquaintance Elijah Jackson had had his intestines removed, his chest sawn open and an occult rune carved into his forehead. The rune looked not unlike a sun. He had on his person a ticket to a lecture along with several items that suggested Elijah Jackson had been making inquiries into a great number of occult activities from around the globe. The sound of a siren led us to the point of no return. Could we trust the police to solve this crime? I could not with good conscious answer in the affirmative and so the Dr and I took it upon ourselves to solve this murder. To do this we would need to retain the evidence we had collected and so we hastily vacated the scene before the immanent arrival of the constabulary.