What Lies Beneath (Star Trek Captains Log)

Space, a new dawn of exploration. As the Alpha Quadrant recovers from the Dominion War, there is a new resolve for peace and cooperation. Born on an isolated colony in frontier space, Cardassian Mal Tarak is accepted in to Starfleet. Commanding a ragtag crew of war survivors, his mission is to rebuild a peaceful union of worlds and boldly go where none have gone before. From the ashes of war rise a PHOENIX.

Mission 2: “What Lies Beneath”

Captains Log, Stardate 41239.1. The USS Phoenix is on a diplomatic mission to Zeta VIII to oversee the breaking of ground for a new history campus for Starfleet Academy. This is quite the test, as diplomacy has not been my strong suit, but by focusing on my composure and emotional intelligence I’m sure things will go smoothly. I was asked to deliver a keynote address, which went well and the attendees were impressed with my knowledge of the history of the surrounding systems (ancient civilisations founded by an unknown ancient race) – all hastily researched en route. However, our conference has been cut short by an outbreak of Zetan flu. We’re confined to quarters for the next 48 hours and I’m not permitted to return to the Phoenix. Exhausted, I lay down to sleep and awoke in an ancient tomb, dressed in ceremonial warrior garb, my skin distinctly non Cardassian…

I maintained composure as I established my bearings. I recognised the symbols on the wall as High Zetan – this was a tomb on the planet. My robes were ancient, my body (or what I could see) was not my own – so some kind of mind swap had taken place. Despite the age of the tomb, I was able to pry open the door with this body’s brute strength and got my bearings; I was within the confines of the city, the site of demolition for the new Academy building! I rushed back to base, convincing a passing patrol that I needed to speak to the commander immediately and instructed that my body – the body of Mal Tarak – be transferred to their infirmary.

Captains Log, Supplemental. My medical knowledge has helped assess this mind swap and established no evidential damage. I had the advantage of USS Enterprise records on similar mind swap events (those old scientists always had the answer!), but the Phoenix is not equipped to resolve this – nor can I beam out, thanks to the quarantine. I hoped that analysing the symbols from the tomb might provide some answers, but to no avail. To make matters worse, Starfleet Command has ordered construction to begin immediately, which would irreparably damage the tomb and prevent my recovery. I persuaded the work crew to hold off temporarily, using some red tape to tie up their administration processes to buy some time. I even checked the Phoenix crew roster for anyone with telepathic abilities. No Vulcans, no Betazed, nothing to help. As a last resort, I reached out to Federation experts via long range comms but found my signal to be jammed. The work stoppage that I had instigated had escalated in to a small worker’s revolt! With nowhere else to turn and at my most desperate, I returned to the tomb for one last try. On arrival, I was knocked unconscious by an unseen assailant.

Captains Log, Supplemental. I awoke restrained in a room that I could not recognise. There was a figure nearby who resembled the body in to which I had been transported. I started to talk and managed to get the stranger to speak. He was a High Zetan agent, a representative of the ancient civilisation that had founded this sector of space. He explained that the High Zetans were from another universe with warp technology (or similar, the translation may have struggled) far in advance of our own. He was the guardian of the tombed warrior (in which I had body swapped) and had been guarding in secret until he saw me leave. I relayed all that had happened and the guardian was enraged to find that the tomb would be demolished by the construction – to desecrate a revered site could result in a universal war. I convinced him that I could stop that from happening but would need his help. He agreed we should work together. We teleported back to the surface (I was blissfully unaware that we were in a stealth ship in orbit!). Security surrounded us as intruders but I remained focused and able to stand security down. We quickly met with the colony leaders and convinced them that the tomb should be preserved. The guardian performed the necessary ceremony to transfer my consciousness back to my own body and we returned the warrior to his place of rest. I examined the body to find it far beyond my medicinal skills. With comms re-established, I report my findings to Stafleet who suspend planetary operations to consider. But the worker revolt has reached a fever pitch and an act of sabotage results in an explosive charge being place near the tomb. With everything hanging in the balance, I quickly contact the Phoenix, beam the explosive away from the site seconds before destruction. Impressed with my actions, the guardian disappears back in to the shadows, with a promise to return if the warrior ever reawakens.

Captains Log, Stardate 41240.5. I have returned to the Phoenix, construction work having been discontinued. Talks between the colony leaders and the workforce are positive, although I feel a measure of guilt for bringing things to the forefront! Starfleet intends to relocate their proposed campus and is even discussing placing a General Order 7 on the site. Very few planets are out of bounds, which shows how seriously they take the threat posed by the High Zetan guardian. I’m left to wonder how long it might be before the warrior awakens again and how many High Zetan guardians might be walking among us unseen?

= = = =

David Griffiths is an author, playwright and producer from Liverpool. This journal was written using the Star Trek Captains Log Solo Roleplaying Game by Modiphius, available now.

Dust in the Wind (Star Trek Captain’s Log)

Space, a new dawn of exploration. As the Alpha Quadrant recovers from the Dominion War, there is a new resolve for peace and cooperation. Born on an isolated colony in frontier space, Cardassian Mal Tarak is accepted in to Starfleet. Commanding a ragtag crew of war survivors, his mission is to rebuild a peaceful union of worlds and boldly go where none have gone before. From the ashes of war rise a PHOENIX.

Mission 1: “Dust in the Wind”

Captains Log, Stardate 41001.3. Commander Mal Tarak reporting aboard the USS Phoenix. No one expected at this point that a Cardassian would be placed in command of a Starfleet ship. I guess my humanitarian efforts in the Badlands during the war were worth Starfleet taking the risk. My colony was isolated from most of Cardassia, but we still felt the effects of Dominion rule. We rebelled, we were noticed by Admiral Ross – the rest is history. Now here I am, a shining beacon of cooperation to former enemies across the Alpha Quadrant. Our ship, the USS Phoenix, is a Freedom class survivor of the war. I swear there are parts of other ships pieced on to us as a quick fix and the shuttlebay door doesn’t fully open – but we’ll make the best of it.

We are en route to the Chi Gamma System, a trade route to outlying colonies that Starfleet considers valuable. The system is uninhabited, but the Badlands make diversions risky, so Starfleet have asked us to assess suitability for cargo ships. On arrival, our sensors have picked up a decaying distress signal, which we pinpointed to the 3rd planet (M Class). Our scans also pick up extensive gravimetric radiation which is destabilising our ships systems – they’re coming from the surface of the planet, local to the distress call. This radiation could prevent this system being utilised as a route if we can’t clean it up. We located a lifesign, an Edosian, who we beamed directly to sickbay. The Edosian remembers nothing about being on the planet, or indeed what is down there. We were able to utilise my skills in field medicine to identify that the radiation was affecting his memory, preventing him from remembering further detail. I beamed down with an away team and found the crash site – it looks like an experimental warhead is leaking; likely some classified piece of Dominion War tech. Fortunately, the Phoenix is equipped with a prototype warhead disarmer. We beamed back up to prepare, but immediately forgot about the warhead!

Captains Log, Supplemental. Thankfully, we had recorded enough detail on board the Phoenix to at least recognise the problem and devised some shielded radiation suits that would protect the away team from further complications. Our Edosian survivor helped us to calibrate our dismantler, which then beamed down and successfully rendered the warhead inert. Now came the clean up. From the bridge, we devised a way to use our deflector array to reduce the system’s radiation pollution and began putting our plan in to action. Suddenly, a ship dropped out of warp. I recognised it as the kind of small fighter that the Maquis used to operate. Could there be a legacy Maquis presence in this area? We raised shields and armed phasers…

Captains Log, Supplemental. We managed to disable the Maquis fighter and hailed their captain, who is intent on capturing the weapon for his own purposes. He beamed aboard to make his case, but the sight of a Cardassian in command triggered outrage. Before we could calm things down, a Cardassian Scout came out of warp and hailed us. The Gul had been hunting this Maquis remnant and wanted the captain to be handed over into his custody. Both parties were invited to my ready room, where I stressed the need for us all to cooperate to rid the system of radiation. Sensing the Gul’s frustration, I stressed how I value integration across the Alpha Quadrant, and that if Cardassia is to thrive it must integrate with its allies. But my values were scorned and the Gul left unimpressed. Suddenly, the gravimetric radiation caused a critical systems malfunction aboard the Maquis fighter. We began to beam survivors aboard before the ship could explode. The Cardassians refused to help and left the system. As the Maquis fighter’s orbit decayed, we stabilised it long enough to rescue the last of their crew before destruction.

Captains Log, Stardate 41010.1. The Chi Gamma System has been safely restored for trade and the Maquis remnants have been delivered to the nearest Starbase. I am disappointed that the Cardassians did not support our efforts. It is clear that the relationship between Cardassia and the Federation remains strained for now. Perhaps taking this assignment will hinder the Federation’s efforts for peace, rather than help?

= = = =

David Griffiths is an author, playwright and producer from Liverpool. This journal was written using the Star Trek Captains Log Solo Roleplaying Game by Modiphius, available now.

Mutant Chicken Kebab (A Lunchtime Lairs Adventure)

Our brave adventurers stare out of the farmhouse window. Below, five mutant ten-foot-high chickens roam. The horse and cart which brought our group to the farm remains undisturbed. A flaming arrow, aimed at the warehouse, burns out on the grass.

Reckoning that the vines – that have blocked the only exit – will part for the horse and cart (just as they did for their arrival), the group decides to try and make their exit. The invisible barbarian Hector leaps from the window and creeps towards the carriage with relative ease. The carriage is brought within leaping distance of the window. A mattress is then launched from the window, tearing through the canvas roof of the wagon, to cushion their escape.

The four remaining adventurers – Faqual, Seneca, Romula and Moloch – stand on the window ledge, hold hands and decide to jump on ‘three’. But Faqual, still reeling from the betrayal of his brother, jumps on two and pulls the entire party with him. They crash down beside the carriage.

With a cluck, the interests of the mutant chickens are piqued.

‘Go! Go!’ Romula jumps aboard the wagon, shielding her party. Faqual takes the reins and with a flick of the wrist the horse starts forward.

Two chickens try to break for the horse and the three remaining chickens charge the rear of the wagon. Seneca defies form, catching a chicken square in the throat. Faqual steers true, the horse thunders back towards the path – the wagon lifts on to two wheels. A chicken pecks at the wheels but to no avail.

Are these chickens intelligent? Has their mutant size increased their brain capacity? Come to think of it – where are the Beak Squad when you need them?!

Seneca lands a few arrows, albeit from close range. Hector spears a chicken through the neck, almost decapitating it and Romula hooks her mace in to the fleshy thigh of one of her foes, dragging him from the sky.

One of the chickens blocks the path to the gate. Hector races to the front of the wagon, using the cross bar to leap over Faqual (almost dislodging his hat) and mounting the horse. He attempts to spear the chicken dead ahead, but his spear finds only feathers. However, Moloch catches the chicken off guard, knocking it to the ground prone.

Faqual continues the charge of the wagon, wondering if a change in career path – from chocolatier to equestrian – might be in order. He successfully leaps the horse over the prone chicken and the wagon bounces down upon their fallen foe.

With Hector’s brave leaps and Faqual’s skilful horse handling, Seneca feels somewhat deflated. His shots were all looking so skilful, but in comparison…

And so Seneca reverts to type. As a mutant chicken swoops upon the wagon, Seneca spectacularly fails to miss his target.

Faqual notices that the vines across the gate are showing no signs of retreat and decides to change tact. He makes another spectacular hairpin turn and charges across the crops towards the warehouse. But in the excitement, Hector is thrown from the horse. The vines stir, the two remaining chickens move in on the barbarian, who despatches them with ease.

Moloch tries to relay a new plan to the party. He wants to fire a flaming arrow in to the warehouse, blowing it up (and dispensing any flammable gas) whilst sparing the horse and wagon. But Romula is caught up in the blood fever of battle. With a howl, she lights the mattress in the back of the wagon on fire and shouts for her comrades to jump from the speeding wagon.

Hector, dispensing of the remaining mutant poultry, watches his companions leap from the burning wagon. The horse speeds on through the warehouse door.

There is a brief sound of shuffling, as if something in the warehouse has been disturbed.

And then…

BOOM!

The flames reach the farmhouse and it begins to burn alongside the warehouse.

With the farm destroyed, their foes vanquished and the vines trapping them within the compound, it seems our party has one option;

To wait for the warehouse to burn out and then find the tunnel that leads – hopefully – to Celebration…

Lunchtime Lairs is a RPG session played weekly at Justplay Games Liverpool, Wednesdays 12-2pm. We are currently playing The Black Hack.

Atlas Shrugged – A Tale of Unrequited Fraternal Love (A Lunchtime Lairs Adventure)

After dispatching the ill-fated Guy family the party enters the farmhouse in search of the shadowy figure spotted at the top floor window, leaving for now the mysterious force in the barn that cast one of the farm hands across the corral crushing him against the house exterior.

Inside the party sees evidence of the Guys austere bunkhouse lives as the ground floor consists of a space split between a series of simple bunks and a kitchen area providing the rudiments of domestic life. With all appearing quiet Seneca and Moloch are dispatched upstairs, and displaying unusual dexterity, take stock of the first floor unnoticed by its sole occupant.
Like the ground the first floor consists of a single open space. At the centre stands an altar bearing a bas relief sigil of a blood drop. Lying upon the altar is an apparently fresh cadaver, channels on the surface are funnelling the body’s fluids into a pail on the ground. At the far end of the room is a workspace consisting of desk, bookcase and workbench upon which is a cage containing 3 contentedly clucking chickens. Around the walls are a series of potted thorny plants that hold little aesthetic appeal in the metropolitan eyes of the thieves.

At the window stands the shadowy figure spied from below. Dressed is the robes of a conjuror, also bearing a blood drop sigil, stands the mysterious overseer of the Guy farm. Satisfied he has marked everything of note Seneca makes to return to the party to plan their next steps but he is stoped by the far wiser, observant and competent Moloch – Aside from an impressively waxed and trimmed beard lending him an air of sophisticated menace this unknown conjuror is a perfect likeness of Farqual, the party’s mage and confectioner.

Below the party regroups and the thieves confront Farqual about his doppelganger above. Farqual admits he has a twin brother, Barqual, he has not seen since his youth. They were both conjurors but Barqual disdained the confectioner’s school of magic in favour of the darker arts of necromancy.
The party forms up into their now signature battle formation, a shield wall of Romula and the impressive bulk of Hector to the fore and the unreliable ranged weapons of Seneca and Moloch in the rear. Feeling an appeal to his brother’s better nature could save bloodshed (usually his own as his mounting disfigurement attests) Farqual hails his brother and reminds him of their time as children with their mother Marqual and father Parqual. Barqual informs his brother that much has changed since their youth and as a demonstration animates the corpse upon the altar and enchants the chickens at the far side of the room which burst from their cage growing to five feet in height.

Sensing his brother may be numbed to their family ties Farqual changes track and makes a plea to his brother’s sense of civic duty to join the party in their righteous (and mandatory upon pain of boat) quest for the region’s governor. This proves a costly misjudgement of his brother’s political thinking who reveals himself to be a libertarian seeking to be free of the oppressive meddling of the state in his entrepreneurial enterprise of selling magic beans to Celebration. As a last roll of the dice Farqual decides to mock his brother’s fowl based sorcery to which Barqual announces he has more eggs to hatch and a large crash is heard outside the farmhouse.

Entering combat Moloch is quick to move and mounts the altar to fire his sling unsuccessfully at Barqual who places his cadaverous defender between himself and the party’s first line of attack. Two chickens close on the party and one jumps the altar to peck at Moloch. Showing a dramatic flair worthy of his facial hair Barqual casts invisibility over his undead protector causing a wave of unease in our heroes. Doing what he is almost most well-known for Hector the Hoplite rains two mighty blows down upon the nearest chicken cleaving its head completely from its body. As the head falls to the ground the body runs off and is quickly ensnared by one of the potted thorns.
Seeking to further even up the odds for the party Romula knocks over the pail of blood and bodily fluid and as the contents spread across the floor she notes two voids appear in the vicinity of the nearest chicken. Visualising the snow carpeted steppe bathed in the winter long moonlight of her homeland she calls upon the power of her God to banish the revenant from the field of battle. A series of crimson footprints appear and race towards to wall where, sensing prey is nearby, a thorn plant activates and ensnares the zombie causing the invisibility to fade. Feeling their more martial comrades have things in hand Farqual and Seneca rush to the aid of Moloch and attack his feathered assailant.

Not wishing the heroes to grow overconfident Barqual aides Hector in doing the thing he is actually most well-known for by casting charm upon him. Showing the usual resistance his simple mind is capable off Hector once again turns on his companions and climbs the altar to face Moloch. Identifying Hector as the most pressing threat to Moloch’s life Farqual rushes behind Hector and grabs his cloak. A combination of his considerable bulk, elevated position and surprise conspire to send this human siege engine arse over tit and he crashes to the floor. Utilising the break in the action to their benefit the thieves combine into a single competent and dexterous whole and dispatch the altar based hen.

Romula braces to fend off the final bird but quickly realises its attacks are hardly above the level of minor annoyance and its main function is a mobile shield for Barqual. In a hectic period Barqual gets Hector back to his feet and casts invisibility over him to up the ante, and Seneca and Moloch return to form and send a series of projectiles everywhere but into Barqual, save for a single hit. Farqual wants in on the projectile action and attempts to launch the blood pail at his brother but slips on the slick blood soaked floorboards and hits himself in the head.

As arrows and stones continue not to rain down on Barqual Farqual makes a last appeal to his brother and launches into a song from their childhood

“Who can take a rainbow
Wrap it in a sigh
Soak it in the sun and make a groovy lemon pie
The Candy Man…”

Barqual hesitates and tells his brother he has touched his necrotic heart. He has decided to kill him last. This touching scene is disrupted when Romula dispatches the final chicken and Barqual, shouting “screw this for a game of soldiers” jumps through the window to a chorus of excited clucks. Still singing Farqual races to the window to see six twelve foot tall chickens below and his brother disappearing into the warehouse. No longer under Barqual’s influence the thorn plant release the corpse which falls to floor once again lifeless. A disembodied confused voice asks “What’s happened here?”
The party searches the desk and workspace and find a ledger, set of blueprints and a letter addressed to an Ayn in Celebration. Piecing the information together it appears the Guy Farm previously supplied the brewing industry in Celebration with Hops but has recently moved production to a mysterious bean which, in order to avoid ‘Guberment interference’ is being transported to Celebration by means of underground tunnels accessible from an entryway constructed and hidden in the warehouse. Successful experiments with chickens have increased production due to a superior supply of guano now being available but has caused problems – the gas it produces is flammable and heavier than air so long term storage in the warehouse is dangerous as gas could pool in the tunnels.

Excited at the prospect of finally getting to burn something the party decides to shoot a flaming arrow at the warehouse from the first floor window of the house. Quite literally, however, Seneca fails to hit a barn door and the arrow falls some way short causing the twelve foot tall chickens to recoil from the flame.

The party regroups to consider their options…

(By James Leader)

Lunchtime Lairs is a weekly RPG session at Justplay Games Liverpool, Wednesdays at 12 until 2. We are currently playing the Black Hack.

Lucky There’s A Family of Guy’s (a Black Hack Adventure)

Adventurers hiding in a mausoleum. Bodies removed from caskets and from graves. An unmarked wagon. An attack that left the wagon driver slain, horses scattered and a coachman prone.

So begins today’s adventure.

The stubborn coachman is reluctant to provide information until Romula applies pressure to his wounds. He reveals he has been hired to bring bodies to a plantation that provides crops to the town of Celebration. Seneca tortures him, removing a few fingers – the terrified coachman knows nothing about his employer or why the bodies are needed. He asks no questions and takes his coin, although he does remember hearing that the plantation has recently changed their produce.

With a knife to the coachman’s back, Moloch rides up front after Hector has helped retrieve the spooked horses. The rest of the party hides in the back of the wagon as it trundles off towards the plantation.

As dawn rises, they approach the gates. The plantation is surrounded by heavy thorns and bramble. A gate leads through a large field of crops towards a corral. A farmhouse is in front, with a barn to one side and a warehouse to the other.

The coachman is reluctant to approach, but his employer waits at the farmhouse – a sinister man in heavy robes, features obscured. They pull up alongside him and the coachman reacts nervously. With a nod from Moloch, the coachman moves to unload the ‘bodies’ from the carriage…

His employer peers in to the dark carriage, the majority of the party successfully hidden. But Hector steps forward and asks Moloch if he needs a hand. With cover blown, the party enters combat. The mysterious employer shouts to some farm workers, who emerge from the crops (the Guy Family). Pitchfork Guy is unsuccessful in skewering Hector, who swiftly slices the robed employer’s head from his shoulders. Trowel Guymakes a beeline for Romula, who quickly forms a hield wall against the wagon with Hector. Scythe Guy takes an unsuccessful swing at Moloch as Seneca climbs atop the wagon and begins to fire arrows.

The coachman panics and runs for the gate, all but forgotten by the combatants – for now.

Faqual charms Scythe Guy, who takes a swing at his brother Trowel Guy. Swinging his scythe, he spills Trowel’s guts, and –

A boy plays in a field with a dog. The dog runs in to the tall grass and is missing. The boy mourns his lost pet, his first encounter with mortality. His father teaches him to farm, his strong hands growing steadily weaker and older, until he passes the family trowel to his son and departs this plain. The tears brim in the boy’s eyes and he brings his hands to his face to catch them. The tears are warm. And red. He looks down at his hands and the tears are blood. And entrails. Before him, his brother readies his scythe. Only, it is no longer his brother. A hooded figure extends a cold, bony hand. They rise. From amidst the chaos, they rise and float away. Beyond his brother’s. Beyond the family farm. Trowel Guy smiles.

The door to the farmhouse opens and Running Guy (no relation) emerges and makes his way towards the closed barn door. A few well placed arrows slow his progress to a crawl.

And the coachman gets closer to freedom.

Unarmed Guy (formerly known as Pitchfork Guy) tries to get a few punches in on Hector before his sword separates him from this earthly ream –

A realm in which he once lived so happily and peacefully with his cousins. Now his favourite cousin – Trowel – lies slain at Scythe’s hands. Was it grief that forced the gleaming sword in to his body? Did he secretly long for release? How would he have looked Mother Guy in the eye and told her of the horrors that had befell her beautiful boys? He couldn’t live with himself. He didn’t have to. With a whimper, he ceased…

Moloch’s blade stabs Scythe Guy in the back. Wobbling, he takes one futile swing at Romula before Moloch finds his neck –

Scythe Guy was always his mother’s favourite. It was his smile, she said. He lit up any room. And when his father, Old Guy, died, he helped them carry on. He was strong for them all. He kept them going. His cousin’s adored him. His brother looked up to him. It was his smile. Always his smile. And now it widened and it lit up the room. Crimson.

Only Running Guy remains of the farmers, still staggering intently towards the barn. He lifts the latch…

The door bursts open, throwing him across the grass, crashing against the corner of the farmhouse. He slumps to the floor, dead –

No relation.

Finally, the coachman reaches the gate and his bid for freedom. Suddenly, the vines and thorns in the surrounding bushes rumble and they shoot out towards him. He is skewered in the gateway and the thorns entwine together, sealing the entrance.

The door to the barn swings closed and settles slightly ajar. A startled whimper can be heard within, coming from multiple sources.

A shadow, having observed the battle from an attic window, retreats in to the darkness of the farmhouse.

Together, the adventurers make their way in to the farmhouse…

Lunchtime Lairs is a weekly RPG session at JustPlay Games in Liverpool, Wednesdays 12-2. We are currently playing The Black Hack.

Lunchtime Lairs: Death and Taxes

Having found a dazed Blegrim in the tunnels under the dragon’s mountain, Faqual had found himself confronted by a troop of guards. The bumbling conjurer proved unconvincing and was captured, along with Seneca. The fate of the Beak Squad – six mutated intelligent penguins – is unknown…

Waking up in a dungeon, Seneca and Faqual find themselves reunited with Hector and Romula. They wait in their cramped cell for two days, with nothing to eat but more snook (where’s the Beak Squad when they’re needed?) Eventually, they are visited by Commander Fencer, who is looking for volunteers. Complete a job and earn your freedom. Well, of sorts.

Our brave adventurers volunteer, as does Moloch the Thief (Dan, joining our adventure for his first RPG outing). Stepping out in to the bright sunlight, they are presented with their task. The Regional Governor has a dispute with a small town two days journey away. It seems the town’s primary business has changed in the last six months and they have since stopped paying their taxes. Several expeditions have been sent to the town to speak to the new Mayor – none have returned. The Governor, having noted the alleged crimes of our merry gang, wishes to enlist them as an expendable enforcement team that are known as the “Red Shirts” (this despite the white shirts with which they have been presented)

Seneca saw this as an opportunity to scarper, but Fencer had a few surprises in store. The snook they had been fed contained miniaturised canoes (an oddly specific way of storing transport that was defined in the previous campaign). The Governor’s resident conjurer could use his crystal ball to monitor the progress of the Red Shirts. Deviate too far, and their waistline would expand by several feet.

By way of demonstration, the conjurer showed the previous party that had been tasked with this job. One moment, they supped beers in a tavern, the next moment five canoes occupied their spaces at the bar along with a lot of fleshy bits and bodily fluids.

Convinced, the adventurers set out.

They were advised that the road to the town of Celebration was a two day journey. The landscape was open and flat. There was only one notable place to shelter for the night – a church halfway between both towns.

After a weary day of travel, the group approached the churchyard. But something was off. The church itself appeared a little…ventilated. The churchyard was scattered with rubble, the church roof and bell tower had crumbled and the shattered altar looked to be the scene of some magical explosion.

More alarmingly, the weathered and aged graves looked to have been recently exhumed.

A lone mausoleum, decorated with a hop motif, was locked. Seneca picked the lock. Inside, they found ten coffins. The newest was judged to have been placed less than a year ago. Two of the oldest coffins had been tampered.

Deciding to set up camp within the mausoleum, the gang carried the coffins out to the church – in case any of their residents decided to go for a walk. The two oldest, tampered coffins were empty.

They set a decoy fire in the ruins of the church and Hector and Moloch took first watch. After a few hours, they heard an approaching wagon. They roused the rest of the party and readied themselves. Moloch stepped out in to the road to hail the driver, but the driver was already slowing the wagon down. Two horses, two men and a large contained wagon.

Moloch tried to charm them as a lonely adventurer, but one of the men trained a crossbow on him and told him to send his party out from the church. Another attempt at charm failed and the driver became aware that the campfire was a decoy. As he bade the horses on, the bowman took fire, catching Moloch and depleting his armour. Seneca failed to hit a horse, as did a charging Hector. The coach driver was thrown from the carriage and Hector flung his iron rod in to the wheels of the carriage, forcing the horses to break free and bolt. The bowman was flung forward, his neck snapping as he landed head first on the ground.

Moloch darted to the driver and held him captive.

The horses are scattered and the driver is captured. Where did they come from? What was their intention at night in a graveyard?

Lunchtime Lairs is a weekly roleplay session held at Justplay Games in Liverpool, Wednesdays 12:00-14:00. We are currently running The Black Hack.

UK Games Expo 2018

Last weekend, I spent two fantastic days at the UK Games Expo at the Birmingham NEC. Having done many a Comic Con over the years, I thought I had an idea of what to expect – how wrong I was. The scale of UKGE is impressive, and the organisation of such an event is incredible. The Expo was split across Hall 1 and 2 of the Exhibition Halls at the NEC. Most of this space was devoted to traders and developers, with plenty of opportunities to play test or interact with some tantalising new (and old) titles. A large part of Hall 2 was devoted to Tournament play, with Fantasy Flight Games hosting the European Championships of X Wing Miniatures and a Star Wars Destiny tournament (both of which I spent a small fortune on expanding my collection this weekend). The free play areas were always bustling with gamers – the confidence of the experienced gamers mixed with those concentrating on new rule books, getting to grips with new worlds. The atmosphere was electric. A quick stroll past the Viking and Orc encampment (who’d have thought they’d mix so well?), led to the Hilton, who were hosting most of the RPG sessions and seminars.

Needless to say, before I could immerse myself in the Expo, I had to navigate the surrounding roads – far too recent for my ancient Sat Nav to comprehend. Having gone 30 miles out of our way (yes, I’m serious), we made our way to the Holiday Inn Birmingham Airport and took advantage of their excellent complimentary shuttle to the Airport, which is a short walk to the NEC.

We arrived at the Expo early Friday afternoon. We had been warned that the crowds on Saturday would likely be tough to navigate, so I was glad to wander with ease around the Halls on Friday. There was no entry queue, nor any queues to collect tickets and passes.

 It took me all of five minutes to make my first purchase of the trip. Having spotted the Backspindle Games table, I was drawn to a Mexican wrestling game called ‘Luchador!’. Backspindle are the company behind the awesome Discworld title, ‘The Clacks’, which I was bought whilst directing a theatre adaption of Going Postal (on which the game is based). It’s quickly become a favourite, having been played on many drunken evenings around our table. Simple, yet challenging – and not so heavy on Discworld lore that it scares off the casual player. In fact, it’s one of the few we’ve been able to play successfully with the in-laws. But I’ll give a full review of The Clacks another day.

 As luck would have it, the designer of Luchador had stopped by the booth and was able to sign a copy for me, which was a result. First blood to Backspindle! 36 hours to go…

 Having surveyed the Hall, we were drawn to the Bring and Buy. With no real intention of buying much, we queued a reasonable 20 minutes (queues on Saturday were unreal) with a wish list of games that we didn’t expect to see. How naive we were. For those unfamiliar, the Bring and Buy is like a massive board game jumble sale. Sellers register their items, check them in and they’re added to the pile. Sellers then check back in over the course of the weekend to see how much they’ve earned. It’s Expo eBay, basically.

 We were really pleased to see wish list item ‘Thud’ for sale (another Discworld title) for a reasonable price, considering it’s out of print. We tried it out later in the bar and it’s gorgeous. Again, review to follow!

 With time ticking on, we made our way to our first show of the night. Ian Livingstone reading Deathtrap Dungeon. The contestant was John Robertson (from the hilarious ‘Dark Room’ fringe show). After giving us an insight in to how they met (“Hello, I’m Ian. I invented the thing you’re parodying”), we spent 2 hours trying to lure Robertson to his death. The room was packed and really warm, but it didn’t put the crowd off. At one point, Livingstone pulled out a harmonica and Roberston sang an impromptu blues song about his visit to the borehole. Both were completely captivating and laugh out loud hysterical.

 The Hilton’s bar was a highlight of the weekend. Every seat taken by gamers, each with a pint and a game in front of them. A couple of oblivious hotel guests looked totally bewildered by it, but there was a buzz throughout the building that was infectious. We finished the night off with a trip to see old friends Jollyboat (who we’ve shared a fringe platform with on the odd occasion) and John Robertson getting his revenge on Ian Livingstone in ‘The Dark Room’ – which I can’t recommend highly enough. If you’re in Edinburgh this summer, sell your soul for a ticket.

 Our taxi brought us back to the Holiday Inn at 1am. In reception, a group played Magic the Gathering and a few board games were set up in the bar!

 An early start on Saturday for the busiest day of the Expo. The crowds were bustling and I was glad to have had the opportunity to peruse at my own pace the day before. I stopped by Ian Livingstone’s table to shake the hand of the man who started my love of fantasy way back when and stopped for a chat at the Black Hack and Cthulhu Hack booths (The Black Hack being our current game of choice at Lunchtime Lairs – Wednesdays 12-2 at JustPlay Liverpool)

 In the afternoon, we had a game booked at the Hilton. Although I’ve dabbled on and off over the years, I’m still relatively inexperienced playing RPG’s and only ever with friends. Lunchtime Lairs was my means to break the ice and jump in head first and I was determined to have a similar experience at UKGE. So I had found a Level 1 Dungeons and Dragons 5E campaign that seemed suitable.

 ‘Against the Grain’ was written and DM’d by Simon Rice, who was a brilliant and welcoming DM. The campaign saw 4 adventurers investigate a missing farmer and the mysterious mist that had descended upon the area, leading people astray. We were fortunate to play with such a great group – each of whom embraced their pre gens from the very start. There was no clichéd wariness, this motley crew were very soon squabbling comically, much to Simon’s amusement. There was a great use of tarot cards, drawn randomly by the adventurers in an encounter with an insane cannibal clairvoyant, which helped determine some random encounters for each player. It was excellent.

 By the time we wrapped up, it was now near 8pm on Saturday. We headed back to the bar, bought a few pints and played a few card games that we’d picked up that morning before jumping the shuttle bus back and heading to bed.

 I would have loved to have added a third day to the trip but I don’t think my wallet could take any more!

 So, a week later I’m still mulling over a brilliant Expo. There’s still a lot of games to play (and review), but there’s nothing quite like having so much enthusiasm in one place.

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David Griffiths is a writer, producer and director from Liverpool. His novels, ‘A Christmas Cthulhu’ and ‘Bearquake’ are available from Amazon. As a sports journalist, his ice hockey show, Drop The Puck, has been broadcast across the UK’s local TV networks for five years. His sports documentary, ‘Dragons Fire’ is available on YouTube. His latest feature film, ‘Saving Grace’ is currently in post production. Follow him on Twitter @daveygriff82