Nothing, Nobody, Nowhere

Just a Train Job

Hook

The Commonwealth Rail line runs from Plessy in the south to Sarklund in the northwest. To get there, it travels through the Badlands, past the Devil’s Teeth, and along the Forgotten Shores. The inaugural voyage has just begun but the Dashnel Brother’s gang has their eyes on the mysterious cargo the train is rumored to be carrying. The PCs have been hired to provide extra security by the nervous Mister Brown. The train is 15 cars long.

Twist

The Dashnel gang have disconnected the barracks car and loaded almost all the passengers into another car and disconnected that one, too. You’ve got to catch the train on horseback while Lily Dashnell shoots at you!

Parts of the Voyage

Plessy

Town made of Wood and dust

Sunken Market

Cliffside view of the ocean of blood

Badlands

Whipping Winds: Stay standing (+3)

Yellow grasses and loose sand

Tall, four legged creatures tower in the distance

Craggy rock

Devil’s Teeth

Dark Tunnel: LOOK OUT! (+4)

huge white granite rocks cut into strange shapes

Occasional minor earthquakes

Irregular ash pours up from the granite randomly

Forgotten Shores

Uneven track: Stay standing (+3)

Frozen Mountain with polished metal parts rises from the water

a huge metal structure that looks like a noose for a giant

Blinking light from the top of the mountain

Sarkland

Densely packed buildings built up the hills

Buildings made of scrap and wood

Hive of human activity

Progression

Each car is made of 3 zones. Players may always attempt to climb over the cars but Lily will take shots at them the whole time. That means that the big battle takes place over 9 zones. Lily can shoot from one end to the other. Show them that they can take cover by having the ruffians take cover. During the battle in the Cargo car, the doors are open on either side. Thus, people can be kicked off the train to plummet down the mountain below.

Luxury car: The train is barreling down the track at full steam! Board the train safely (+3) then, unlock the luxury car door (+4) or climb above (Lily is posted above and will shoot, warning the gang members!). Once inside, this area is a staging area.

Fancy Chandelier

Fallen Chairs

Who’s Here?

2 ruffians arguing (one has a rusty old revolver)

Dining car: defuse a hostage situation! The train is passing the Badlands where Whipping winds (+3) threaten to knock anything off the train.

Wine and Spirits (flammable!)

Heavy Tables (Cover)

Overhead Lights

Who’s Here?

5 ruffians talking (one has a shiny revolver:DR1)

Ashlyn Mitchell (held hostage)

Cargo car: The cargo car is dark and extra dangerous. It's also filled with enemies! During this time, the train goes through the Devil's Teeth. Every two turns, the train is plunged into darkness for a turn. If trying to get there from above, they have to Look out! (+4) for the dark tunnel that will kill them.

Broken boxes

Loose Luggage

Who’s Here?

3 ruffians (one has a shotgun:DR3)

Abraham Dashnel

3 Passenger cars: The big set piece battle! The heroes must fend off the gang members while being beset by the uneven track (+3) of the Forgotten Shores and their opponents.

Open Doors

Barricade of Luggage (+4)

Scared Bystanders

Who’s Here?

5 ruffians talking (three have a shiny revolver:DR1)

Marcus Dashnel

Lily Dashnel

Devon Stewart (terrified)

Vault car & Caboose: Marcus Dashnel and his gang have been defeated but the train is damaged and will derail into Sorkland if it isn't stopped! The train is out of control due to the throttle being broken off.

Flaring boiler

Throttle repair (+5)

Next hook: after being rewarded a windfall of cash, the nervous Mr Brown asks for help. He has a stake in a town that could really use people with moral character…

The Safe

The Safe is a huge vault bolted to the train.

The vault is Superb (+5)

Inside is a pallet of 100,000 Dollars

Cast

Dashnel Brothers Gang

Marcus Dashnel, Leader of the gang

A 5' 1" tall, red-brown skinned man with neutral, light brown eyes, small ears, a round chin, thick eyebrows and a stubby nose. He has straight, brown hair, wears fashionable clothes.

Eagle-eyed leader

Quick to anger

My pappy’s Shotgun

+5: Sight

+4: Brawn, Quick

+3: Brains, Charm, Cash

Mook Shield: Whenever you are attacked, you can spend a fate point to divert the attack to nearby filler enemies.

Kaboom! When you use my pappy's shotgun on all opponents in your zone you get weapon: 3

Double tap: You may make an attack at Weapon: 4 with a +2 but must spend a turn Reloading!

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

-2 Consequence Confused

-4 Consequence Drowning

-6 Consequence Fighting his own body

Lily Dashnel, The brains of the gang

A tall and heavily built, white skinned woman with watchful, blue eyes, a stubby nose and large ears. She has wavy, light brown hair, has piercings in four places, has a small welt on her left cheek, and she usually wears a traditional pair of shorts.

Ice cold sniper

Humorless narcissist

“Time to improvise!”

+5 Sight

+4 Quick, Brains

Ninja Vanish: By spending a fate point, you can make yourself vanish from the scene entirely. Then, at the end of any later turn, you can spend another fate point to make yourself reappear anywhere in the scene and immediately attack.

My trusty rifle, single round lever-action reload, +3 DR / -1 DR (same zone)

[ ] [ ] [ ]

-4 Consequence Broken arm

Abraham Dashnel, The muscle of the gang

A tall and athletically built, white skinned man with friendly, brown eyes, large ears and a small nose. He has curly, dark brown hair, has slender hands, and a short torso and a larger-than-average waist.

Warrior poet

Bull in a china shop

+4: Brawn

+3: Sight, Quick

+2: Cool, Charm, Brains

Human Shield: When you defend with Brawn, you get Armor: 2

Freight train: If you move one zone before attacking, you get Weapon: 2

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

-2 Consequence sliced neck

-4 Consequence Crippled

-6 Consequence: Failing Heart

Ruffians

Dirty, Lanky, and beady eyed thugs

+2 Brawl

+1 Sight, Cool

[ ] [ ]

Filler: For every two of them grant +1 to the group but no more than +4.

Bystanders

Devon Stewart, an engraver

A tall and slender, fair skinned person with meaningful, gray eyes, smooth cheeks and large ears. They have straight, golden-blond hair lightly streaked with shades of aquamarine, have toned legs, and strong arms, have a noticeable birthmark on their lower back, and they wear fabulous clothes.

Ashlyn Mitchell, a rancher

I was inspired to create a single page TTRPG. It uses a very simple d6 dicepool system. I hope that people find it interesting. I'd love to keep working on it.

Hopefully you can have fun with it and tell me what you think.

Years ago, before the rain, before snow this land made a promise. It said it wasn't perfect but perfect was for suckers and progress was the way. Well, like a lantern lights the way, the land it lied to us every day. We let the suits take charge and they charged us for the privilege of living. They chased the green paper dragon and dragged the rest of us along.

We held our signs and said our words but held our fists back to not cause trouble.

They ignored us.

We stomped our feet and yelled out loud

They ignored us.

We begged to fix it and stop the bleeding.

They ignored us.

They ignored us.

Then came the day when the ice hats went soft and the water came crashing with their markets. Then came the hard days of hunger and hardship for you and me but not them.

They ignored us.

When they ran out of blood to pull from the ground they looked around and found the mess they made.

That's when they looked at us.

They said it was our fault. They did it for us.

Then the hyenas fought over the scraps left and threw their nuclear rocks and death machines

And we bled in their fight.

We bled and broke and battered each other for flags and feelings and fear of the other.

That was when we found our voice. That was when we found our fists, they were in our hands the whole time. We clenched those fists and used those hands and snatched away a place of our own.

We gave birth to this city through nuclear fire and human blood. We built, brick by brick on the bloated remains of the cities left behind. We did this. We made this.

But now the vampire vultures come to violate our votive against the violence. They think thoughts of money and machines. They want to stick a flag in the ground and claim what is ours.

The feds and their secrets, the corps and their money, the gangs and their knives. They've got nothing on you.

Remember your hands, children. There is a fist in each one.

My name was crossed out and my heart sunk. I stared at my feet and listened for my heartbeat. I heard my name and slowly raised my head. The thing beckoned to me with one of its six hands. One was still holding the pen that had sealed my fate, another was holding open the Book of Names, two others were unrolling an ancient-looking scroll and the final handheld a trumpet made of bone.

The thing was thin, skeletally so. Its six hands connected to sickly, elongated arms that led to a humanoid chest that seemed simultaneously thinner and taller than it should be. It tilted its head in a mockery of human behavior and leaned forward as I instinctively tried to appear brave. It was at least twice my height, even bent as it was. The thing's eyes were dark pits with small white lights within them. I looked away, unable to bear the cold gaze of the thing.

"Do you have anything left to be said?"

The noise seemed to drill into my brain, shaking me, and somehow hollowing me out. It unfurled 8, blood-soaked wings and the bright, burning star behind its head crackled, letting forth a lash of blinding plasma and flame. A clawed hand stroked what passes for a chin on the thing. It inhaled and the skeletal cage that passed as ribs flared forward, the screaming faces within clawing from between the blazing, white-hot ribs at something, anything that could free them from their agonies.

"I..."

I swallowed; my mouth dry as a desert at noon.

"I demand to speak to your manager."

That dream I spoke about in the last post? It's happening. I'm going north... Which sucks. I'm going to be writing and more sociable. Yay.

When i was a young robot dude on Tumblr, I didn't really think much about the future. I didn't have a plan. Things weren't great for a while. Then, I met my amazing wife. A lady with endless patience, fierce intellect, and a badunkadunk.

Then, I became a dad. I loved it; still do. I'm always amazed that I was allowed to raise a child. I'm even more impressed that he managed to overcome my shoddy parenting, and be such a wonderful person. Not every day was the best, but it wAs always rewarding.

Now, I'm entering a whole new stage. My boy is now an adult. They've inherited the best qualities of his mom, and avoided the worst of mine. I kept wondering, what I would do now? My kid doesn't need me. He's not a kid anymore. So. Who the heck am I?

I'm terrified. I'm excited and happy, too. I'm also incredibly scared. I have to learn to be an adult. I have to grow in a whole different way. I have to push through and reinvent myself. with this new move comes the chance the take risks and try things that I didn't think think I could before.

However, thinking about this has awakened old dreams. When I was young and living in New York City, I had no knowledge of the world beyond except for what I watched on tv, in films, and read in books. At some point, I decided that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. But, I didn't just want to be any old writer.

I wanted to buy a pick up truck and get a dog. I wanted to travel the country in my pickup, with my dog, and write fiction while arriving in small towns to help solve crimes and help people. For some reason, I imagined (in 1993 or so) that I would be writing on a typewriter and smoking out of a wooden pipe.

I would pull into a small town and park somewhere. Unload some gear and... I dunno... Put my typewriter on the floor? I didn't know much about camping. Did I think that I would sleep on the side of some random road? How on earth would I submit work to publishers? And why would anyone want a random Latino dude to show up and help them with their crimes? (Well, to help *solve* those crimes!) I can imagine someone asking me to help paint a house or lay sheetrock; not find their lost necklace from WW2.

Well, I have two words: 1980s Television.

Jan Weaver wakes up to the sound of a slow, dripping. She sighs and stands up from the floor where her bed is and angrily strides to the source of the dripping. A patch in the upper corner of her window must have unsealed. For the fifth time this week, she opens the can of sealant and uses a paintbrush to apply the compound in thick strokes. Atop the sealant, she applies a thick patch made from a kind of hardening silicon. She pulls the film off the back of the patch, exposing it to the air. As the patch hardens, the dripping comes to a stop.

“Worth it,” she whispers to herself, mostly to convince herself that it’s true.

She warms up a large cup of breakfast, a kind of powdered seaweed and grasshopper dissolved in water. In other parts of the city, she is sure that there are people who could afford food with more substance but the price just isn’t worth it. The thought of eating actual animals just seems barbaric and disgusting to most people. They tend to enjoy food engineered to maximize taste and nutritional content.

Jan looked out of her window to the oceans.

The Sink is a part of the city that had long been under water. The waves and fish had reclaimed this part of the city a foot at a time over the years until it was swallowed whole. Much of the city was abandoned and ignored by people who were more serious, more realistic, and “knew better.” A few mad individuals gathered together and worked to reinforce buildings and convert them to being able to survive the ocean’s invasion. Artists, engineers, displaced workers, and refugees banded together using foraged materials and creativity to revive a whole neighborhood.

The work was slow. Tensions and scarcity of materials almost broke the ad hoc coalition again and again. Somehow, they stood against the water and then against the opportunists who would attempt to take what they had built. The Sink would hold allegiance to no one. It would be a place free to anyone who was willing to put the effort to keep it alive, and it was certainly alive. Where buildings were close to the surface, bridges and walkways were built to facilitate travel. Where the distances were further, docks were built for all manner of small water crafts. Ultimately, The Sink was a community closer than most others in the city. It’s inhabitants are proud of where they live and how they survive.

A quiet chirping alerted Jan and pulled her out of her thoughts.

She had a quartet of daemons, programs that she had designed to crawl the infonetworks and listen for interesting chatter according to a set of key terms. Pinky, Inky, Blinky, and Clyde had been wandering the networks for over two years. She regularly applied remote upgrades to the daemons so that they evaded capture. But, she was only one person while her opponents were often multinational corporations with nearly endless budgets. Mostly, her modifications had lately been based on improving their methods of avoiding detection and improving their cooperation.

Pinky and Inky had found some interesting information involving the next location of the Night Market. Blinky uncovered a secret meeting being held between Caballero Ventures and a mid-level executive from Lazarus. That means that there is either a defector or corporate espionage. She smiled and moved a small sum of manna onto the stock market to buy puts on Caballero Ventures. Though Blinky seemed pretty confident, Jan didn’t feel that she could risk manna on a call option for Lazarus Medical.

She smiled and sat back.

“Privacy violations, insider trading, and…”

A chirp interrupted her thoughts and made her chuckle. “Thank you Clyde- identity theft.” Clyde had returned with the usernames and passwords of over 247 users of several minor corporate intranets. As she looked over the list of compromised accounts, there was a name that she hadn’t heard of. It was something called ‘The Agency.’ She did a couple cursory searches for information on the company but nothing came up.

A notification popped into the corner of the screen, Anacalypse wanted to meet up. Her real name was Anatoli something-or-other but she’s gone by Anacalypse since they’d met. She was an artist and activist that had a tendency to blur the two into dangerous and incredibly fun ‘exhibitions.’ Jan got dressed quickly and ran out of her apartment while her shoes were still untied.