Escape The Kidnapper's Keep - Play Report

This is a play report of a minidungeon written by Mellonbread. I used the opportunity to playtest the Begone FOE! Funnel ruleset, which I updated to the most recent version of the game here.

With the collapse of the City of Tontes, the Marble Cliffs have become anarchic. Petty lordlings reassert their authority, controlling the surrounding landscape from fortified keeps. The Beggarmen, an entrepreneurial gang of lumpenproles and rural bandits, has started a ransom racket out of a stolen castle, kidnapping random people to sell back to their loved ones.

People like you. You've spent months in a smelly cell, being tortured by bored jailers who demand a ransom that probably isn't coming.

That was until a cannonball came through the ceiling.

The castle is under siege, and you've got a way out. But if you fled now you'd just be another batch of faceless nobodies on the frontier. And being penniless losers is exactly how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

So fuck that. You're gonna rob these assholes blind.

Fallout: Yellowstone - Companions

Deimos

Grandini (player of Slim Al Swaywood) and I put together some NPC companions from our recent run of Fallout: Yellowstone, based on an old draft I found for Fallout: Two Sun. 

The players repeatedly recruited NPCs throughout the playtest, so it seemed appropriate to codify their behaviour into actual mechanics. If you want a Google Docs version of this supplement, find it here.

Unknown Armies: I Wear No Mask

Another jam entry, this one for Katts' All Hallows Jam. A ritual for Unknown Armies.

B-trndl

Do you like hurting people? Good.

Delta Green: All My Dreams Are About Raids

A belated entry to Luis Vito's JUKEBOX Jam. A Disciples of the Worm minidungeon for Delta Green.

Once a Spanish trade post, then a Mexican army fort, then an antebellum slave plantation. Now a small citrus farm in the Texan backcountry, producing sweet Marrs oranges and Mexican key limes.

The locals don't have much to say about it. The workers keep to themselves, act polite, and pay in cash. They're not all Mexicans and Guatemalans either, a few had odd foreign accents. Maybe European? 

They don't see the tunnels twisting beneath the earth. The crates of guns and bombs and worse hidden beneath sweet-smelling citrons. The parasites coiling inside perforated intestines, pain barely dulled by fistfuls of pills. The thing in the pool, robbed of language but still begging for death in wordless screams.