Sunday, 27 November 2011

Dickass DM

Remember good, old-fashioned gamebooks? They promised all the fun of a role-playing game, with none of the social interaction - what more could a teenage boy desire? The thing is, that while the gamebook became a great gaming experience in its own right, the only RPG it could possibly have simulated was one being GM'd by Satan himself. 90% of decisions led to certain death, and combat was often fatal.

Satan wasn't available, so Brad will be GMing Rob through an RPG based on the classic Joe Dever gamebook Freeway Warrior II: Mountain Run. Brad is the DM, and Rob plays his character, Brag Phoenix.

Catch up with previous Dickass DM installments here!

Brad: His blond hair is cropped close to his head and his eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. Pistol in hand, he walks slowly towards you, then stops at the entrance to the pay booth. Two more men in uniform emerge from the doorway - the rifleman and one other - armed with a sawn-off shotgun.

Rifleman: They don't look like clan punks, Sarge.
Kate: We're not. We're running from the clans.
Brag: I can handle this, sweetheart.

Brad: Bemused, the blond-haired man scratches his chin and turns to say something quietly to his two companions.

MCSPINDLE: 28 Days Later totally ripped off this gamebook.


Brad: It is them that you notice the faded sergeant stripes and the circular globe-of-the-world emblem that adorn his sleeve. Instantly you recognise the latter: it is the emblem of the World Defence League. At length, he turns to face you once more.

Sgt Haskell: [much friendlier tone] I think you two had better tell us your story.
Brag: Can I hold my gun?

Brad: You tell the soldiers who you are and how you cameto be here in Fort Stockton. At first, they listen to your fantastic account with cool scepticism.
Rob: How is scepticism cool?
Brad: How isn't it?
Rob: Whatever, not bothered.
Brad: That's apathy.
Rob: I doubt it.
Brad: That's more like it.
They cross-examine you both in an attempt to find a flaw in your story, but when they are
unable to find any, their attitude begins to change. By the time they have finished their interrogation, you have managed to win their respect and admiration. Once they are convinced that you are genuine colonists they recount their own tale. They are WDF marines who, before 'The Day', were stationed at an underground tracking facility in Brownsville, Texas.

MCSPINDLE: That sounds like gay code...


Brad: Twelve of their unit survived the post-holocaust years, but soon after their return to the surface they were the victims of a clan attack. They were the only survivors of the attack and were forced to flee Brownsville on foot.
Rob: Racists? Out here?!
Brad: Eventually they managed to find a vehicle that worked - the pick-up truck - and had got this far when the fuel ran out and the engine broke down. They are trying to reach their command headquarters at Fort Bliss, located just north of El Paso, where they hope to rejoin remnants of their unit. They arrived in Fort Stockton three days ago and have been rpevented from continuing theirjourney on foot by the blistering day temperatures and the fierce night storms that have swept down from the Barrilla Mountains. They have set up camp in the ruins of a nearby motel and they invte you there to share their food and drink, and to formulate a plan to find some fuel for The BragWagon. Their provisions are basic, but you receive them gratefully.

Brag: Cheers for that.
Kate: Parma Violets? Really?

Brad: After your meal you try to think where you might find some gasolene.

MCSPINDLE: I'm pretty sure that's pronounced 'petrol'.

Brad: Sergeant Haskell and his men - Marines Gunter and Knott - have searched every square inch of Fort Stockton and know that there is none to had here.

Sgt Haskell: What we need is an old road map. One that would show us where the freeway rest stops and gas stations in this are were located.
Brag: Here, maybe this map might be of use. And hopefully it's within about half a mile.
Sgt Haskell: [examining the notes and markings on the map] Hey, where did you get this?
Brag: Some guy.

Brad: He scrutinises it at length.


Sgt Haskell: What you've got here is a blueprint of a major HAVOC operation to take over the country.
Brag: Seriously? Those douchebags?
Sgt Haskell: This is one hot piece of property: it shows clan strengths, supply areas, HAVOC strongholds, controlled cities, everything - even pockets of WDL resistance on the eastern seaboard. We've gotta get this to El Paso. If there's anything left of WDL headquarters then they must be warned about what it happening in the East.
Brag: Okay, but what about fuel? Douchebag out there has barely enough fuel to make it another twenty miles. All we need is enough gas to get as far as Kent in time for the rendezvous with the colony. Then we can refuel from the tanker and you can catch a ride with us all the way to Fort Bliss.
Sgt Haskell: There's a rest stop here...
Brag: No there's not. Oh, on the map?

Brad: He points to the map at a place on Interstate 10 that is half-way between Fort Stockton and a town called Brogado.

Sgt Haskell: There's no knowing if there's still any gas in its storage tanks but it's our only hope. It looks like a twenty-five mile drive - do you think you can make it?
Brag: Well, we can but try.

Brad: You decide to leave Fort Stockton at dawn the following mornind, but the weather deteriorates, putting a swift end to your plans. For two days and nights the town is hit by lightning storms and tornadoes, forcing you to remain in the basement of the motel. It is not until the morning of the sixth day of your mission that the tornadoes blow themselves out and you are able to leave the town in safety.


Brag: No books down here, are there?

Brad: With Kate beside you, and the three marines clinging to the hood and trunk of The BragWagon, you crawl the twenty-three miles from Fort Stockont to the Balmorhea rest stop that Haskell found on your map. It is located at the entrance to a pass through the Barrilla Mountains and at first glance it appears to have suffered extensive damage in the recent storms.

Brag: On second glance, it's a shithole.

Brad: You bring the roadster to a halt with your fuel tank virtutally empty, and it is with great trepidation that you and Sgt Haskell go to inspect the fuel storage tanks while Kate and the others watch the road. Of the eight underground fuel tanks located beneath the gas station area, only one look promising. Of the others, six are empty and one is contaminated with diesel oil.

Brag: That's no good! It'll make my engine...what does diesel do to a petrol engine?

Brad: A coded security valve locks the access pipe to the tank and, after a brief examination, you realise that the code must be cracked if you are to get at the contents. Any attempt to break off or cut through the valve would be sure to cause a spark that would blow the tank, and whoever was tampering with it, sky high. You are studying the valve when you hear Marine Gunter shout a warning:

Marine Gunter: Clansmen on the freeway!
Brag: Sounds like a Golden Earring song.


Brad: Six black-clad bikers are riding along Interstate 10 twoards the rest stop. Affixed to the rear of their saddles are long, whiplash aerials, which are topped with black pennons that bear a lion's head symbol. You stare at these small black flags and a tingle runs down your spine: it is the emblem of the Detroit Lions clan. The bikers catch sight of The BragWagon and bring their machines to a hlat a hundred yards from the rest stop. Then all six spread out and, using the rocks and boulders that litter the landscape, they make their way forward slowly.
Sgt Haskell orders Gunter and Knott to take cover and open fire at the advacing clansmen; they must not be allowed to capture or destroy the fuel tank. From behind an old gas pump you watch as two of the Lions start to edge their way around the service area.

Brag: Don't shoot it, whatever you do.

Brad: They are trying to circle around the rest stop and launch an attack from the rear.
Rob: Use the pistol!
Brad: You abandon your cover and shadow the two clansmen as they circle around to the rear. An old tyre rack propped against the side of a derelicy car was offers you a good defensive position, and quickly you scurry towards it. You reach the rack

MCSPINDLE: Wa-hey!

Brad: in time to see the Lions halt. For a moment they duck out of sight, but soon the reappear and come running, half-crouched with guns at the ready, towards your new-found hiding place. You pull back and release the slide of your pistol, feeding a bullet into the breach, then take careful aim at the first clansman as he scorries between the rocks that litter the edge of the service area. He is less than twenty yards away when you squeeze off your first shot and bring him crashing to the ground.
Rob: What is he made of, glass?!
Brad: His partner hesitates, then abandons his stealthy approach and comes running towards you, screamin hysterically, his machine pistol blazing at his hip.
Rob: Fire again.
Brad: Bullets rip into the tyre rack and whistle past you on all sides as the clansman rushes your position. Calmly you stay hidden until you hear his gun stop in mid-burst, then you spring to your feet and fire at point-blank range, hitting him in the chest. He doubles up, falls forwards and lands in a lifeless heap at your feet.

MCSPINDLE: Shake n' VATS, bitch!

TO BE CONTINUED...

Words: Brad Harmer & Robert Wade
Brad Harmer: Facebook Twitter
Rob Wade: Twitter
This is intended as a loving tribute to Joe Dever, the Freeway Warrior series, Slaughter Mountain Run/Mountain Run, and all other gamebooks of yesteryear.

Friday, 25 November 2011

Dickass DM

Remember good, old-fashioned gamebooks? They promised all the fun of a role-playing game, with none of the social interaction - what more could a teenage boy desire? The thing is, that while the gamebook became a great gaming experience in its own right, the only RPG it could possibly have simulated was one being GM'd by Satan himself. 90% of decisions led to certain death, and combat was often fatal.

Satan wasn't available, so Brad will be GMing Rob through an RPG based on the classic Joe Dever gamebook Freeway Warrior II: Mountain Run. Brad is the DM, and Rob plays his character, Brag Phoenix.

Catch up with previous Dickass DM installments here!
MCSPINDLE: I'm not gonna make more than 120 miles, Brag.
Brag: That's what you were complaining about? My days have been numbered since page 1. Metaphorically.
Brad: It is midday when you rejoin Interstate 10 to continue your drive west.
Brag: We probably shouldn't have stopped off at Little Chef.
MCSPINDLE: I know, right? They always said they two things to survive a nuclear fallout would be germs and cockroaches. And what do you know? Little Chefs.

Brad: The sun is at its height and it feels as if it has pushed the temperature to five degrees above unbearable. To save fuel you try to keep your speed below twenty-five miles per hour, even though the lack of a cooling breeze drives you to distraction. You were hoping to be able to scavenge some fuel in Ozona, the first town through which you were due to pass, but when you arrive you find that it has been totally destroyed.
A gently sloping mound of dust and rubble is all that remains of this town. You are forced to continue without respite, and throughout the long, hot drive, the experience of Ozona is repeated many times before you reach Bakersfield in the early morning.
You are both tired and suffering from mild heat exhaustion, but after having at last reached a town that is still standing, you agree that you must search for fuel and water before it gets dark. As the town is divided in two by the freeway, you decide to split up and search one half each.
Rob: Search the south side of Bakersfield.
Brad: At the far end of a block of derelict stores is a blue, star-shaped sign that marks the site of a Lone Star gas station. You hurry along the dustry street, hopeful of finding some fuel, but you are met with disappointment. All the security caps have been sawn off the gasolene storage tanks and not a drop of their precious contents remains. The gas station itself has been ransacked and nothing of value remains, but at the rear of the building you discover something that stirs your curiosity. It is a large storage facility with heavy double doors, which are chained and padlocked.
You walk around the building and notice that it has no windows or other means of access.
Brag: How does one get in?

Brad: Nothing hints at what it stored inside, and the more you consider it, the more intrigued you become. You head off to search elsewhere. After a long and laborious search of all the stores in this part of Bakersfield, you discover absolutely nothing of any practical value. Having exhausted both your energy and your patience, and with dusk already giving way to darkness, you abandon your search and return to The Brag Wagon. You return to find Kate sitting on the hood of the BragWagon, sifting through a box of items she has found.
She, too, has been unable to find any fuel, but she has salvaged enough food for a decent evening meal.
Kate: I even found some wine from your home state.
Brad: She proudly holds out a bottle of Californian dry white for your inspection.
Brag: You might want to climb off that hood. This is third base for him.
MCSPINDLE: I hope you found a corkscrew.
Brad: As night draws in and the temperature falls, a strong wind arises that whips along the freeway, howling like an angry ghost. You sense that it is the prelude to a storm and you suggest to Kate that you look for somewhere to shelter. An old brick-built library standing close by seems like a good bet: the walls are strong and it still has a roof, which is more than can be said for over ninety per cent of the Bakersfield buildings.
You decide to spend the night in the library's main hall. After clearing a space near the centre, you build a small campr fire, using a few of the many thousands of books that line the walls. Then, once it is ablaze, you help Kate to prepare the food she has found. Outside, the weather has gorwn steadily worse.

MCSPINDLE: YOU COULD LET ME IN!
Brag: I don't have room at the inn.
Brad: Thunder rolls acorss the surrounding plains and the jagged flashes of forked lightning illuminate the roiling clouds of dust with increasing regularity.
Brag: There's a storm comin'...
Kate: It ain't all bad. At least we don't have to worry 'bout Mad Dog's boys showin' up outta the blue.
Brag: Yeah, now they'll show up outta the lobby.
Brad: The food and wine taste delicious and, after eating your fill, you both settle down to sleep in front of the glowing embers of the camp fire. It seems as though you have only just closed your eyes when you are stirred to conciousness by a loud crackling sound and the acrid smell of smoke. Horror fills your sense when you open your eyes to see yourself surrounded by a blazing wall of yellow flame. Lightning struck the library roof while you were asleep, starting a fire that has been fuelled by the shelves of dust-dry books, and which has now spread to the main hall where it threatens to consume you both. Quickly you wake Kate and together you fight your way towards the main door.
You are within ten feet of the exit when a burning bookcase falls across your path.
MCSPINDLE: BWAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!
Brag: This ain't good.

Brad: The heat and flames force you back from the entrance, and as you reach the centre of the hall, you look around desperately for another way out but every exit is now ablaze. Using a heavy rug from the floor, you cover Kate's head and tell her to make a dash for the main door. Bravely she obeys your command without hesitation, and she succeeds in escaping through the tunnel of flame and out into the street beyond. Heartened by her success, you raise your jacket over your head, take a deep breath and sprint after her.
Brag: I hear the Chariots of Fire music!
Brad: Your speed and sure-footedness save you from the merciless flames. Your jacket is blackened with soot and the legs of your jeans are smouldering, but you escape from the blazing library without sustaining any injury.
MCSPINDLE: Oh, whoever could have set that fire?
Brad: Kate catches you as you emerge from the library and pulls you a safe distance away.
Moments later, the roof of the library collapses with a loud, spliterning crack, and clouds of sparks whirl into the night, carried upward by the strong, gusting wind. Silently you look at Kate's smoke-blackened face, and then at the blazing library, and you realise ust how lucky you both are to have got out of that inferno alive.
Brag: You're...black?

Brad: By the time you recover fully from your ordeal and return to The BragWagon, the storm has blown itself out. The easter sky is lightening as dawn appraoches, and you decide to leave Bakersfield now, before the sun rises and the temperature becomes unbearable. Beyond the town, the freeway climbs steadily towards a distant line of mountains that shimmer on the horizon. You keep your speed as low as possible and cover forty miles with your fuel gauge nudgng the zero mark. Then the silhouette of Fort Stockton appears on the road ahead and your hopes of finding some gas are rekindled.
Brag: Forts are well known for their gasoline!
Brad: The first thing you see upon entering the town is a gas station. Like everything else, the station appears deserted, but there is something about this building that makes your skin prickle with presentiment.
Brag: Yes, whatever presentiment is, I'm prickling with it.
Brad: A battered Chevrolet pick-up with its hood raised at one of the station's four gasolene pumps. It looks far cleaner than any of the other auto wrecks that lie scattered around the town, and your suspicioins are further aroused when you notice a large black pool of oil on the ground beneath the engine compartment. You stop the BragWagon alongside and step out to investigate it.
Brag: Wait, this oil is fresh...
Brad: You dab your index finger in the pool. You are wiping it clean on the leg of your jeans when you hear an unexpected reply.
Man's Voice: Drop your weapons...or I'll drop you!
Brag: Oh....bollocks.

Brad: It is a man's voice and it is coming from inside a derelict pay booth.
Rob: I do as he says.
Brad: Reluctantly, you let your gun slip to the ground as the muzzle of a rifle emerges from the darkened doorway.
Man's Voice: You too, honey.
Brad: Kate obeys, tossing her machine pistol out of the car so that it lands deliberately near your feet.
Another Voice: [to your right] Don't even think about it.
Brad: From behind a wrecked auto steps a tall, muscular man, dressed in green army fatigues.
Brag: Fucking hell, there's two of you?!
MCSPINDLE: Cockroaches, bacteria and Sgt Slaughter.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Words: Brad Harmer & Robert Wade
Brad Harmer: Facebook Twitter
Rob Wade: Twitter
This is intended as a loving tribute to Joe Dever, the Freeway Warrior series, Slaughter Mountain Run/Mountain Run, and all other gamebooks of yesteryear.

Tuesday, 22 November 2011

Book Reviews

Star Wars – The old Republic: Revan
Drew Karpyshyn
Titan Books

Available Now
Review by Brad Harmer

Revan: hero, traitor, conqueror, villain, savior. A Jedi who left Coruscant to defeat Mandalorians — and returned a disciple of the dark side, bent on destroying the Republic. The Jedi Council gave Revan his life back, but the price of redemption was high. His memories have been erased. All that’s left are nightmares—and deep, abiding fear.

What exactly happened beyond the Outer Rim? Revan can’t quite remember, yet can’t entirely forget. Somehow he stumbled across a terrible secret that threatens the very existence of the Republic. With no idea what it is, or how to stop it, Revan may very well fail, for he’s never faced a more powerful and diabolic enemy. But only death can stop him from trying.

Man, it seemed like this book was never going to arrive, didn’t it? Anyway, it’s here now and, Good Lord, is it awesome. It feels great to be able to check in with so many of the characters we knew and loved all those years ago, and under the control of Karpyshyn, you know it’s going to be handled properly.

Revan is exceptionally well paced, which is something of a rarity in Star Wars novels. There’s always something going on, and the next action beat is never all that far away. Some characters are just written quietly out of the story, which is understandable in terms of time/space restraints, but as the book measures in at shy of 300 pages, you’d think there could have been room for an appearance from Zaalbar and Mission Vao.

The Emotionally Fourteen Rating
Violence:
Several unarmed combats, several lightsaber combats. Some gunfire.
Sex/Nudity: Some partial nudity.
Swearing: None.
Summary: A fantastically paced, well-written Star Wars adventure. The action scenes are perfect, the characters brilliant and the ending beautifully bitter-sweet. You’ll need to know the video game(s) to get the most out of it, but this is one of the EU’s better offerings. 9/10

THE DARK SIDE GIVEAWAY


The UK’s number one specialist horror genre magazine The Dark Side has just turned twenty-one years old and to celebrate this momentous anniversary in style, along with the help and support of sponsors Network DVD, The Dark Side is offering all its readers, both old and new, the chance to enjoy the magazine’s first four rare collectors’ editions totally free of charge at www.thedarksidemagazine.com. No longer available to buy as back issues, these archive volumes have been recreated as brand new digital editions allowing readers to take a chilling journey down the dark alleyways of horror history.

If you want to catch up with The Dark Side now then do visit their website for print and digital subscriptions but we're offering one lucky reader a chance to win a digital subscription for a whole year!

For your chance of winning, send your name to emotionally14@hotmail.co.uk before midday on Wednesday 7th December, making sure to put "The Dark Side" as the subject. The first entry out of the electronic hat after the competition closes will receive twelve month digital subscription to The Dark Side!

Don't forget to put "The Dark Side" in the subject line. Incorrectly labelled or blank entries will be discarded.

Entries limited to one per household. Offer open only to postal addresses in the UK and Ireland.