Fairfax OSR - IC Thread

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Séadna

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Winters calls containment and advises protocols for dealing with biological infection.

Later at the bank:
Winters listens as Leslie speaks.
 

Fenris-77

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Sorry folks, end of the year for me so I've been busy with report cards and whatnot. Should be back in the saddle soon. :thumbsup:
 

Fenris-77

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I'll get this rolling tomorrow. Sorry for the wait.
 

Voros

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I'm still available, btw I think it helps if we know how often we're posting, everday, weekdays, weekends, etc.
 

Fenris-77

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I'm still available, btw I think it helps if we know how often we're posting, everday, weekdays, weekends, etc.
I think we could decide that once we have people. I'm not stuck on something hard like expecting multiple posts a day. Really it's what everyone is cool with. I don't mind a slower burn where no one feels pressured to check the thread more than once a day.
 

Fenris-77

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OK, let me try this again. So, question for the group, I'm currently writing a Delta Green hack of The Between, and if you guys wouldn't mind, and wouldn't mind giving me a little time to get some shit together, I love to port this game over to that system and do some playtesting. Would you guys be interested?

Silverlion Silverlion Voros Voros Simon Hogwood Simon Hogwood and I guess Séadna Séadna :grin:

It wouldn't be right way, but it would be soonish. I almost have enough together to start playtesting.
 

Fenris-77

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For sure, I dig the idea a lot.
Cool. I'd really rather go that way than having to run a MotW game while trying to design and playtest a similar game in the same genre. I think it would be ... poor.
 

Séadna

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Sounds good to me. I'd probably be free once you're finished as well.
 

Fenris-77

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I'll get you guys a playtest copy as soon as I have something readable and the playbooks you'll need to port your characters. I'd also be fine with any of you switching character types is something in the hack strikes your fancy. This isn't going to be this week mind, it'll take some time for me to pull the document togther. I have a rough list of moves and mechanics, but I haven't got any playbooks done. Anyway, a work in progress.
 

Fenris-77

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Fairfax OSR – A precis

The Place

The Fairfax OSR - a puny dank little office in the downtown core, with faded upholstery and yellowed wallpaper and a sign out front that reads Bremner and Sons Consulting. A ancient secretary crouches behind a massive metal desk, a brutalist relic of some cold war college campus, who fingers an MP5 whenever someone comes in the door. Through the back is a bathroom with a toilet no sane person would ever even crouch over, and a cramped supply closet with cleaning products dating back to the world wars. You pull on a mop handle and a section of wall slides aside and you enter the inner sanctum of the your OSR field office.

Down a rickety flight of wooden stairs is another dank, cramped, office but this time with yellowed arcane parchments on the wall and an underwhelming collection of cryptozooology specimens in formaldehyde valiantly trying to fill a small set of shelves. There are six cubicles, four currently occupied (by you and you stalwart compatriots). One door on the left reads Manager in faded paint on frosted glass, and another door on the right, made of solid steel and looking like it was purchased from a submarine supply depot, reads Storage in large important red lettering, above which some funny wank has added Lip and Asshole in pink sharpie. Desultory efforts to remove the sharpie have obviously met with limited success.

Each cubicle has a desk and office chair, both of indeterminate quality and provenance. Every desk is piled high with stacks of paperwork, post-it notes, empty takeaway containers, and half mugs of questionable coffee. The two currently unoccupied cubicles have become dumping grounds for everything from outdated field manuals to half-built flame throwers to velvet bags that seem to writhe when you catch them out of the corner of your eye. The only evidence of the current century in the room are the laptops on each desk, which are quite obviously very new, and who's sleek lines suggest a level of functionality that no mere mortal will ever need.

Your desk has an sizeable collection of overlapping post-its from your manager, each with lettering larger and more jagged than the last, requesting the submission, ASAP, of your overdue A5-3 and C-44 forms from last week's field operation. Welcome home.

The Case

The door to Drumsetter’s office pounds open, rattling the ancient glass, and he comes striding out like a man on a mission, holding a sheaf of papers and chewing gum like it’s a favored enemy. “Alright you lazy susans, put away your macramé and stop painting your nails, we have a case,” he growls, and starts tacking some papers up on the already crowded mission board. Swearing under his breath he moves some sheets from your last case to one side, and grabs the collection of memes and cartoons that inevitably collect in the middle of the board, crumples them up, and tosses them over his shoulder, plainly expecting someone else to pick them up. “Deltone! Why is this board such a goddam mess all the time?” he asks.

Deltone shrugs and replies, “The folly of youth? Poor parenting?”. He picks up the crumpled paper and sets it gently on the top of the tower of crumpled paper overflowing his personal trash bin.

Drumsetter finishes tacking up the papers and steps back, satisfied, and puts his hands on his hips as he turns to face the cubicles. “OK, pay attention, there’s not a whole lot to go on here, but it came priority from the Twenty Palaces side, so we’re moving on it ASAP, I hope you have you go bags packed because you don’t have time to go home for a schvitz.” He glances at the papers on the board.

“Here’s what we know. A report came in from the coroner in Landry, South Carolina, maybe an hour ago, about some, hmm, irregularities with an autopsy. They had two dead in some kind of home invasion. The one schmuck checked out, but the perp caused their coroner some grief. Apparently there are some issues establishing time of death. Issues measured in days”. He rubs the bridge of his nose and sighs. “You know the Twenty have a stick up their collective asses about certain possibilities here, if it’s Necromancy related we need to get it under wraps right quick before they decide to, whatever, nuke the town from orbit. We don’t have the police report yet, so you guys will have to connect with the Sheriff down there to get orientated. He’s expecting you, and we fed him some shit about terror and bioweapons. Deltone, you can coordinate from here.”

“Despite the bite out of my poor, stretched, budget, you’ll fly down,” Drumsetter says, “You’ll fly into the airport at Sumter and there will be a couple of rental sedans waiting for you. The drive to Landry is maybe half an hour. Try not to trash the rental cars this time gents, the damage deposits are killing me.” He glances at his watch. “The plane leaves at 1400 from the Fairfax airport, so that gives you about 45 minutes to grab your balls and get there. Questions?”

Getting to Landry

Now that you guys are saddled up lets figure out who's going where and talking to whom. The drive into Landry is pretty, but uneventful. There are a lot of cars on the road, and you pass a sign as you head into town that tells you that this week is the Hog Wild BBQ fest in Landry, which might explain the traffic. You pass a likely motel on the way into town, the Cozy-8, nestled in the middle of some light industrial stuff, mostly flat office building looking factory buildings and a couple of box stores. As you get into Landry proper you see that's a picturesque little town, with a very turn of the century downtown strip. The sidewalks are packed with tourists, looking sunburned and happy. Lots of ice cream cones, Tilly hats, and guys wearing socks and sandals. Your GPS tells you that the police station is just ahead, a couple of blocks off the main drag.

The Events

  • The agents flew into Sumter and grabbed a couple of rental cars, one of which was a refugee from an 80’s blaxploitation flick.
  • Everyone goes to the Coroner’s office.
  • The victim, Ron Howard, is a big dude and his corpse looks like it’s been through the wars. He runs the local bank and trust.
  • The Perp, a scruffy drifter type, has also been through the wars, has a weird fungal infection, and for some measures has been dead for a couple of days, despite the fact that that makes not a lick of damn sense. The fungal infection has affected the brain. Shades of zombie fungus (Ophiocordyceps unilateralis). He also has soil under his nails.
  • Splitting up: First, Two agents going to Landry Savings and Loans, and two going to the Sherrif’s office


And that’s where we’re at.
 

Simon Hogwood

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At the Sheriff's office:
Summoning up all his charm, Adam begins, "Hello, we're Federal agents investigating the Howard case. Would it be possible to speak with the officers involved?"

Betty beams up at you like you've made her day. "Ohh, y'all must be from the FBI." she says, pronouncing each letter as if it were its own word. "I'll just buzz you through and let him know you're here. He won't be a sec." The glass door ahead of you buzzes.

Following Adam MacGregor, he's more comfortable when someone who understands, humanities quirks. "You are a many-blessed one aren't you? " Commenting on her enthusiasm rather than any attractiveness she may hold. He smiles at her cautiously. "Thank you for directing us." He reaches out to gently pat her hand. Before turning to head through the door.

Many-blessed one? McGregor mouths at the back of Hew's head as he follows him through the door.
 

Fenris-77

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Hew's a weird one, for sure, but you've seen him take the head off an ape demon like he was trimming his fucking nails, so you take the good with the bad.
 
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