lategaming

Staying up late. Doing the gaming thing.

WotW: Earth - 21 Days of Invasion

Game Design, WotW: Earth, Writing No Comments »

The Narrator of the book was close to one of the arrival sites but this was not necessarily the most active site. He also spent more than two weeks (or a three week invasion) hiding in a collapsed house. He was not the first to discover the dead Martians at the end of the invasion and perhaps was even one of the last. We have to speculate what else happened during the time he was hiding and we have only the barest hints from the book

Week 1
This period is overshadowed by killing and destruction as the Martians make their presence known and start to cow the human populace and deter any efforts of the Military to gain any meaningful intelligence on their movements. The Martians spend this time constructing their machines to defend themselves and then set about building their towers and handling machines. The Humans, when they are roused from their overconfidence in the stability of their way of life are immediately routed and the roads fill with refugees. Some individuals attempt to hide among the ruins. Others still try to fight, joining the hundreds who have become an informal militia, both under-equipped and relatively low of morale considering the onslaught of crushing defeats. Armed with only relatively static and heavy guns, the defenders have to face the physical might of the Fighting Machines as well as the dreadful gaze of the Heat Ray and worse, the deadly caress of the Black Smoke.

Week 2
The Martians start to establish themselves and build their main factories. They shift their production facilities at the cylinders to constructing Handling Machines which process their raw materials as well as herd their ‘food’. They have built great cages into which the Fighting Machines deliver hundreds of frightened humans daily. The Handling Machines also start to collect and manufacture food for their human herds, raiding homes and shops at first and then upon analysis, producing it from the earth itself. These captive humans are under constant threat of death but after the first few days of captivity, their cries and wails die down as they become resigned to their fate. For those who misbehave, food and water are withheld from an entire group and that quickly becomes the leveller. Most relevantly, the Martians have exhausted all other food sources and start to feed upon their herds.

Week 3
The Martians are already deep in decline and the Red Weed itself seems to be suffering from a similar malady. Though the Martians never managed to adapt to our gravity, it is noted that they have become excessively lethargic, even their Handling and Fighting machine seem to spend long periods resembling statues. And in some cases, their installations are completely abandoned. Cage farms quickly become the domains of petty warlords, those who are strong and charismatic enough to mobilise a breakout and take control. At the same time, the remnants of a once-proud military nation start to creep back to their cities and resume their lives to find domains carved out of neighbourhoods, the destruction of homes and landmarks, the looting of food and valuables. There is also the opportunity cost as the British Empire is upon it’s knees at home and lifting it’s head once more just as news of it’s fall was reaching the colonies.

Subversion for Writers.

Writing No Comments »

TUAW has a link about Subversion for Writers.

Subversion is a popular open source version control system. “It allows you to work collaboratively with folks on the same files (in most cases code) without fear of overwriting the work of others. Subversion tracks all the changes made to those files, and who did them, and allows you to rollback changes or branch off into different directions with having to worry about mucking up the entire project.”

The instructions are a little hairy if you’re not used to the Terminal but you can always get someone to help you set it up and host it for you.

(Now, wouldn’t it be neat if you could find a collaborative text editor (like SubEthaEdit) which also had automagical Subversion built in?)

What’s He Building In There?

Cool, Cthulhu, Qabal, Writing 2 Comments »

Title taken from the Tom Waits track.


This blossomed into a scenario where the PCs were sent to investigate a murder. A newcomer to a quiet US suburb was found beaten to death in his home. The house is trashed. And no-one else in the suburb heard or saw anything…

Anyone else have done something similar? Created a scenario out of a song? (And let’s face it. this song is pretty much the entire inspiration for Desperate Housewives. Imagine the pitch - “It’s like that Tom Waits track….but with boobs!”

Spiralling Down

Game Design, Writing No Comments »

I don’t blame anyone really. Sometimes I get angry or depressed and curse my friends, my family, the company, the system, the church and anyone else I can name. But it’s a short madness and like all things, it will pass.

I haven’t slept very well in the last few days. Bouts of lethargy and a resolute stubbornness seem to possess me on these cold mornings. The coffee is too bitter and the crispy flakes of golden corn taste like ashes and feel like razorblades. It has been the same with every meal in the last week. The meat is dry and powdery, the vegetables hollow and watery. I leave most of my food untouched, I clean the plates and I plan my next repast.

I read my mail in the morning but today I let it wait until after lunch. Such is my decadence and freedom. There were some offers of cut-price firmware, live-feed porn and a flyer advertising pressurised space on a new station about five million miles from me. We wouldn’t be alone in the dark any more.

Of course, none of it does me any fucking good.

This station won’t go online for about two years and I’ll be long gone. I logged onto ChatNet and scrolled through the thousands of messages. One read, “Space Age Boy seeks Earthy Girl for Zero-G Hijinks”. That made me smile. Ten million years of evolution and still men were firing out crap chat up lines to lonely women. Was this more or less effective than a wooden club?

There was a long thread about some poor shithead stuck out in the dark, spinning around Jupiter in a damaged pod and a quickly decaying orbit. Some pitied him, some laughed and I really wanted to say something smart, something cutting that would make them blush, make them shut up, make them think. Someone had even managed to get a picture. It was a poor likeness, stupid office party from six years ago. One another thread they were running a numbers game on how long it would take for the pod to burst, how long it would be until Jupiter was seeded with my blood, sweat, piss and tears. I took a few moments and used a few tears. Nothing dramatic.

The problem with this situation is that there’ll be nothing left. I hadn’t been to the Clinic, hadn’t left my legacy in a little cup so there wouldn’t be another me. There wouldn’t be enough left of the pod to scratch an obituary and so the ChatNet onlookers would be my only witnesses. I tapped out a quick message to anyone who could read. Something simple, something regal. It would take a week to hit the Net but by then I’d be spread into a fine mist by hurricane winds in the upper atmosphere of a star that nearly was.

I can’t be saved.

Earth and Mars are months away. The closest transport could get here in time but then wouldn’t have the fuel or the facilities to effect a rescue. And if they tried, they’d join me in this slow doom. At least they are close enough to actually talk to me. I hate the heavily punctuated conversations with my family on Earth. My family haven’t called in two days. I was the black sheep of the family when I took the job and staying i touch seemed nothing more than a formality. The Company was good enough to provide me with a Counselor. She’s in her mid-forties and very good at her job, telling me to express myself, that it’s alright to cry and that it’s wrong to bottle up my anguish. After the third session even she stopped calling.

There’s a girl on that transport. She’s lovely. I know she’s just trying to comfort me but we have long talks in the evenings, we play chess and I dream of her when fatigue finally overtakes me, Her signal is getting weaker as Jupiter creates too much radio noise. I’ll see her tonight, tell her I love her and say goodbye. I’ve never said that to anyone before. Never wanted to. Never needed to. But if I don’t say it tonight then I never ever will.

Through the three-inch reinforced plastic windows I can see Jupiter with it’s great glaring red eye. I’ve never seen it so large, stretching to create an everlasting dusky plain beneath me. I’m not within the orbit of Callisto on the way down. Spiralling down.

So you want to be a writer

Art, Commentary, Game Design, Industry, Layout, Writing No Comments »

I got this from the blog of reknowned comic artist PJ Holden

So you want to be a writer? Or do you want to make a living as a writer?