First Unit Completed and Ready for Shipping!

I Made My First Gaming GIF

Cheesy, I know. I couldn't resist. I am sooo behind the curve utilizing Premier. Need to spend a whole afternoon doing tutorials if I'm going to get the hang of the software.

That Rule in B/X I Missed...

I'm sure there are a couple of more I could find, but this one, this one I can testify I never internalized, or had it come up in play, hmmm. Anyways, it is a good optional rule and I am writing it down here so now another piece of B/X lore is firmly cemented into the space in my brain labeled "If it isn't about ttrpg's I'm not interested". 

It is on page B25 and it goes like this; "ATTACKS ON 'UNHITTABLE' CREATURES (OPTION): Some creatures can be hit only by silvered or magic weapons. The DM may want to allow two other kinds of attacks to hit such creatures. First, attacks by other 'unhittable' creatures may be allowed (for example, a lycanthrope could attack a wight). Second, attacks by monsters with more than four hit dice may be allowed (an owlbear could attack a wererat)."

Seems reasonable to me. I like it. I also like being reminded the clarity of Tom's language usage in writing the Basic Rules. Many rules can be written with some running of the mouth by an author. Tom Moldvay commits none of these sins. I still use this book as a style guide when considering the words I'm using when writing rules.

EHB Issue #31 (part 3)

Part One Begins Here;

The rain was coming down in fistfuls by the time they pulled into the front parking lot of the Family Tree In-Home Health Care Companions, a retirement home in an expansive colonial house, three stories, with heavy brown wood siding and green trim. The place had a thick yard, un-mowed for some time, and the shrubs running along under the window sills and hanging flower boxes stood untrimmed. The glow of lights shone through the front door panes from the lobby. The rain was streaming so rapidly the age-old gutters could be seen spilling over everywhere. The manor house streamed waterfalls from the multitude of overhangs and window bays.

After telling the Uber driver not to go far, "We may not be long." said Mettle, handing over a three twenties to the driver, they bolted out of the car and under the short roof over the entry doors. They could see lights on in the lobby. The door was unlocked and they both walked in. Worn wood flooring creaked under  the woven rug in the middle of the room.  Mettle discreetly rung out her cap.

Nobody was in the lobby but swinging doors on the other side of the room blocked any further look into the home. A door stood closed in each wall to the left and right of them. The walls were mostly covered by a grey and blue wallpaper with antique-like scrolling , a bit yellow in places, and white chunky plaster moldings crowned the tops. A reception desk sat in the northeast corner of the room. A set of stairs going up to the second floor.  Began right behind the desk.

Giving Alex a raised eyebrow, Mettle crossed the room and looked over the reception desk. There was spiral-bound notebook on top of a pile of miscellaneous papers and delivered mail. Alex kept his hands in his pockets but moved closer to the swinging doors. 

"Its a feeding schedule for 30-40 residents." Mettle murmured.

"What are they serving?"

"I don't know. Its just numbers. Like Abraham Mercer is getting a number six today. Mabel Gerard will be having number one..." 

The sound of something being moved, or slammed stopped Mettle short. Both looked towards the swinging doors. The sound came from that direction, muffled, as if it had come from down a hall or other room out back. Mettle set the notebook back down and followed Alex as he pushed open the doors and went into the hall beyond. Well lit, a wider hall crossed perpendicular in front of him. An exit sign pointing in their direction was fastened above a fire extinguisher. The halls smelled of floor cleaner, but no further sound could be heard. At the intersection Alex called out.

"Hello, anyone there? Hello?" 

Nothing, except the murmur of the furnace and the falling rain could be heard. It rang against the leaded glass which looked out to a central patio where all the inner rooms seemed to face into. 

Alex flipped a coin and turned right. A greater common room was to his right. Where the hall turned north again doors to the kitchen and dinning room code be seen.  Striding through the hall Alex stopped at the first door and opened it. A darkened room, shades drawn. The glow of a heart monitor could be seen and the bed was occupied by an elderly gentleman, bald, breathing and asleep. Mettle turned on the light. The sleeping man did not stir. They proceeded down the hall, opening each door they passed. More residents, elderly, in bed sleeping, hooked up to a heart monitor. Alex, at one point, opened up an old lady's eyelid and clicked on his cigarette lighter. He waved it back and forth. Nothing.

"I don't know what is wrong with these people," he said. 

"I don't think we should touch them," said Mettle. "Forcibly trying to wake them up, I don't know? Could cause them harm."

"You agree this isn't normal, right?" Alex inquired. 

"Hell no! There is definitely EE activity behind this and it is not for the good. You can bet on that." Mettle answered. 

The end of the hall turned again into a perpendicular hallway extending to their left. You could see the end of the matching parallel hall that way. More doors to the rooms of residents lined each side. To their right the hall stopped short at a fire door, presumably leading outside. In the north wall, ten feet before the fire door was an open door. Light spilled into the hall and the sounds of a radio could be heard. 

Alex called hello again and walked up to the door. It was an office and it was unoccupied. the radio playing was perched on top of a file cabinet. A computer on the desk was still on, and a cold cup of tea sat untouched. 

"To hell with it, I'm going to try and wake one of these elderly folks up. I need more information." Alex announced while the two poked around the office. 

"I don't advise it, but I won't stop you. I'm going to go through some of the files and rifle the desk."

Alex stepped out and went down the hall three doors and opened the fourth. This one had a large, heavy set man with a good start on a beard. Under the sheets he was naked. The heart monitor indicated he was alive, but the breath was shallow, you had to lean close to hear it. He examined the mans arms. Injections had been given to his right arm on a regular basis and he had a tattoo just above the elbow and needle marks. Alex stood up, walked over to the door he had left open and swung it closed. On the back was a similar mark as the tattoo carved into the back of the door with a knife. Alex snapped a picture with his phone. He turned the doorknob to leave, but just then the old man sat up.

"Hello, you all right? Do you know where you are?" Alex asked, one hand still on the doorknob. The old man didn't reply but swung his legs off the bed and stood up on shaky, spindly legs. His crotch was obscured by the his prodigious gut. Drool flowed out of his mouth and he lunged for Alex. Alex quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door on the man. The old man started tugging on the doorknob. 

The other doors in the hall began to open. Out stepped additional elderly, naked and vacant eyed, all turning in Alex's direction and walking towards him.

He backed up to the office where Mettle was taking some notes and stuffing some papers into her pockets. "We got a problem, the old folks have woken up and they are coming at me here."

"What?" Mettle stepped into the hall with Alex. "Getting weirder."

"Welcome to my world," he replied. "I can't restrain them all without hurting some of them."

"I got this." Mettle replied. She lifted up her arms and with the force of her magnetic control ripped the exposed pipes for the fire sprinklers from the ceiling and pulled them down to create a make-shift barricade. The crowd of elderly crushed up against the pipes, oblivious to the water which now sprayed all over the hall from the ends of the ripped pipes.

"We should leave," Mettle said.

"Not yet," Alex replied, "I found some marks on them, and the doors. Not sure for who or what but it is an Infernal mark. Possession and corruption. Now I know what I'm looking for I've located the source. Its below us. In the basement, I reckon." 

"We leave by the fire door. We can then double back to the front door. Behind the reception desk there is a door under the stairs. Got to be stairs to the basement."

Mettle pulled more pipes down and reinforce the barricade. There were easily twenty or more souls by now clawing at the pipes in attempt to move them. Still, they made no noise. The fire door was locked.

"That's not to code." Mettle mentioned as she forced it open with a flick of her hand. Her magnetic power making the thrumming sound it always does when she used it. They found the front door had now been locked, "Someone was here, we just missed them." They both agreed.

The front door was easily forced with more magnetic manipulation and they crossed the lobby again, accessed the cellar door and descended. It was a damp concrete basement with the cement walls painted white. Partitions had been built to create storage spaces, but one padlocked door opened into a larger, unfinished space. It looked like the oldest part of the cellar. Granite rocks, joints smeared with old, crumbling concrete made up the foundation walls and the floor was dirt. In the middle of the floor was a small obelisk, Three feet tall. It once was plastered, a small ring remained near the bottom. There were marks on the plaster. These marks were matched with more being carved into the rough sandstone where the plaster had worn away a long time ago. 

"This thing is radiating infernal energy. For those who know the right incantations they can unleash its corrupting energy and create dangerous effects." Alex explained. “You’ll find the marks I was mentioning on the back of the door.”

Mettle examined the back of the door. “Yup, you got some strange symbols carved all over it. Can you stop it, stop this?”

“Yes, but we are probably going to have a lot of confused old people when I am done.”

“We’ll deal with it. I found some info from the office. Whoever is behind this has bought a lot of ammunition. The hell I’m going to let anyone turn Capitol City into a warzone again.”

“Okay. This might freak you out.” Alex began rolling up the sleeves on his rain jacket and he loosened his tie.

 

Dead Simple Western USR Gambling Rules

I like these rules "I" thought up. I believe they give gambling and gaming rolls emergent opportunities which otherwise might not so easily noticed during a call for Attribute tests. 

In keeping with the spirit of the (U)nbelievably (S)imple (R)oleplaying game, these rules are simple. Yet, are built on top of the internal logic Scott, the creator of the system, has incorporated successfully in his design. I'm referring to the three character attributes which make up all characters in the game. These are Action, Wits, and Ego. Pretty self-explanatory. The game revolves around three attributes. Further, each one of your attributes has one (and can only use one of each type) of the available dice allowed in play. These are a D10, a D8, and a d6. You can put these in any order you want, but being limited to one of each size the system has deftly added roleplaying prompts as soon as you look at a character sheet. 

What this means for Western USR, and saloon gambling specifically, are the following:

• Characters may use any of their 3 attributes to gamble.
• If the character chooses to use Action, they are cheating. 
• If the character chooses to use Wits, they are just good.
• If the character chooses to use Ego, any throw resulting in a Critical/Fumble check triggers a random encounter. 75% chance it is someone being accused of cheating, just not you.
• A character may switch which attribute they use for their check in between hands, and/or shoots of the dice, whatever the game of chance may be.
• A character may not change which attribute they use during a hand unless the Saloon Keeper approves. 

EHB Issue #31 Hope You Guess My Name (serialized, part 2)

 [Find part one here] The note helped. But it was the picture which convinced Mettle there was a serious chance an Enhanced was involved. If regulars are saying the saw Jacob Bronson up and walking two days ago then Mettle wanted to know what happened to him between then and dead. The transformation into a malnourished husk of a corpse was too unreal to be anything else. 

"You want to go out to the bookstore, see what he was after?" 

"Yeah, but I don't have a car. I flew into Capitol City." Alex answered. The man in the wrinkled raincoat said his name was Alex. 

Twenty minutes later the pair was heading up 72 northwest through a steady rain out of the city and towards Huntsville Village. It was not difficult to find the only occult bookstore in the busy suburban town. It was off Macy Street in a busy commercial block, tucked between a furniture reupholstery store and another retail space unoccupied and for lease. A two-story building, painted multiple times with cheap paint to cover over split wood and old brick.  The Fated Souls bookstore had lights on and was open. The windows stacked with all sorts of witchy-wicca-new age occult paraphernalia. Crystals, triangles, books, hand-crafted wands and homeopathic "medicines".  Inside the "investigators" found overcrowded stacks jammed with books, worn carpet and the smell of incense leeched from the walls.  Yellow was the predominate color, bookshelves, ceiling, trim. 

Mettle discreetly scanned the place with her magnetic abilities, but everything about the place appeared mundane and normal. Near the back the two found a raised platform with a ladder. A desk and more bookshelves threatened to spill over the shaky wooden rail. A woman occupied the desk. Brown haired, pleasant smile. 

"Hello," she said waving her hand lazily and put down her pen. "What can I help you find this afternoon gentlemen?" 

"Actually, we are looking for a guy we believe was in your shop four days ago. He was here to purchase some medicine I think?" Mettle started the conversation. Seeing as she was the local one she felt obligated to take the lead. Alex, water still dripping off his coat, was thumbing through the nearest bookcase. 

"I get customers all the time in here for their apothecary needs. May I ask why you are looking for this person? I'm not beholden to HIPPA or anything, but still, what is this all about?"

"We have a friend, he was very sick, willing to try anything." piped up Alex. "He died just after coming to your store, we want to know what he bought." He stopped thumbing the books and stuffed his hands into his raincoat.

"Are you saying I sold him something that killed him?" The store clerk was naturally offput by such a thought. She stood up while saying this. She had to hunch over because she was very tall and the platform was raised enough to walk under. More glass cases with goat horns and bone flutes displayed. 

"No, no, no." Alex took a hand out of his coat pocket and waved it back and forth. "He was afraid of somebody, we think. The fact he died while being sick, I think he didn't die of natural causes, and the cops aren't going to look into it further. His name is Jacob Bronson and I just want to know what he was afraid of. He thought your store could help. We are hoping you might know what he was so afraid of he would, you know, what might make him try untested stuff."

She blinked back, paused and climbed down the ladder and stood in front of Mettle and Alex. She was easily 6'4". Business slacks and a white blouse. Her horned-rimmed glasses were stuck into her hair. She was freckled and pale. 

"You think he was poisoned?" she asked curious. 

"Maybe."

"So, he was in your store." Mettle jumped in. 

"Yes, Jacob Bronson was here. He asked for a tincture of one of our best sellers. Excellent for the indigestion, irritable-bowel syndrome, and is believed to flush the system of toxins." The clerk put her finger against her chin. "He did not look good. I was happy to make him up the prescription, but it would take a day to prepare. I suggested he should see a doctor as well. Odd you say he has died."

"And why is that," Alex asked. 

"Because he called this morning asking to have it delivered. Said he wouldn't be able to pick it up." 

"And this was... ?" Mettle asked, letting the question hang there. Hoping the leading question would get the clerk to elaborate.

"The Family Tree In-home Care Facility. Just over in Huntsville Center. Not far from here. I was about to get it out in the drop-box across the street."

The two thanked her and  Mettle got on the phone for another Uber. As they waited by the front door of the shop they debated their next move.

"Follow the breadcrumbs, I guess." Said Alex.

"I agree, but before we go forward, mind telling me why you are really interested in this guy Bronson?"

Alex didn't seem to mind the question. 

"Do you believe in ghost and demons?"

"Believe it or not, I'm the kind of girl who has seen some pretty strange shit, go on."

"I've seen them. I've interacted with them. I've fought them. Whoever killed Jacob Bronson knows how to kill people like a malevolent spirit does. Or is a malevolent spirit. Either way, whoever it is is running loose with dangerous abilities and is effectively out of reach of "traditional" law enforcement. I'm interested in who killed this loser because know one else does. Or knows how to do something about it." Alex was definitely not embarrassed to talk about such things. He was matter-of-fact about the bizarre subject matter.

"Okay, I can get behind that." Mettle tapped her finger on Alex's chest. "But if you turn out to be some strange creep thinking about messing with me, I'm the kind of girl who can handle yourself, get it?"

Alex spread his arms wide, revealing intricate tattoos wrapping his wrists as they poked out of his raincoat. "I'm just trying to find and stop the very real possibility of some lunatic out there possessing unnatural abilities killing people who annoy them and getting away with it. Lets go, the Uber is here. Alex pushed the door open and walked out to their ride. Mettle followed after him.

(to be continued...)

The Winding Waterslide of RPG Terms

 The new buzz word for running a ttrpg correctly is the “waterslide”. This is used in contrast to both railroad and the sandbox style of play. The waterslide “slides” in between these two supposed modes of play. I say supposed because when I cracked opened my Moldvay Basic Dungeons & Dragons for the first time when I was eleven, I knew what the fuck Tom was talking about, explaining to me about this new form of play. It was more like being introduced to a mode of play I had been looking for but didn’t exist until DnD. There are no terms like the above being used in Moldvay’s description of the ttrpg concept.

“‘Winning’ and ‘Losing’, things important to most games do not apply to D&D games! The DM and the players do not play against each other, even though the DM often plays the role of various monsters which threaten the player characters. The DM must not take sides. He or she is a guide and a referee, the person who keeps the action flowing and creates exciting adventure. Player characters have fun by overcoming fantastic obstacles and winning treasure, but this does not end the game. Nor is the game ‘lost’ when an unlucky player’s character dies, since the player may simply ‘roll up’ a new character and continue playing. A good D&D campaign is similar to the creation of a fantasy novel, written by the DM and the players.” Tom Moldvay, p. B4, Basic Rules.

Like much of human communication, everything gets lost in translation. Preconceived expectations or a prepared agenda is how we approach new things. This approach is a dumpster fire when applied in the prosecution of creative endeavors. And make no mistake, ttrpgs are a creative endeavor. It follows the current of art and artistic process which mere “games” do not. And people are generally bad at being creative due to fear of the unknown and a required intimacy. Two things ttrpgs generate in abundance: mystery and intimacy. Two things people in general have a hard time with. I mean anything in life we encounter which doesn’t come with a guidebook, except those among use correctly wired not to pause and assess, freaks us out. Guard rails, boundaries, and a reluctance to participate are common reactions as well.  I’m a fierce creative because I lack fully developed executive functions. My brain never gets enough satisfaction from goals achieved with a need for greater and greater emotional hits. I lack an appreciation of consequence because I’m not living in the future like normal people. Reckless, I am reckless to a dangerous degree.

The one good thing being a reckless, impatient person affords me is obsession and openness. When I don’t know where I’m going, I have developed a “let it happen” psychic state. This is due to a lifetime of not knowing where I’m going. I better see the current experience with less me and more clear, present reality. A very good mental state to find when wants to use the imagination and be creative. This is a long, round about way of saying I can get over myself when involved in artistic pursuits. Less direct action and more paying attention.

What this all means, to me, is not many people involved in the hobby actually read the section on how to play the game. I’ll guess dedicated players pretty much not at all and DM I’ll give it 30%. 3 out of 10 DMs read the section on how to play the game.

The reason most eschew such relevant information at the outset of their gaming career is because they are not reading to learn how to play the game but reading to find out what they are going to get out of playing the game. “What do I get?” Well, you get nothing. Nothing any regular game promises to give. Those who develop a fine taste and ability in ttrpgs understood this deal at the outset. These games are not about what you get out of them, they are insatiably demanding you give to it. An empty balloon which will take all your effort and breath to inflate. And once it is full and takes shape, you may not like it. It may blow up into a shape neither desired nor expected. It may blow up in your face, a stinging rebuke against half-hearted efforts.

There is no sandbox, there is no railroad, there is just a tool to leverage your imagination, and for most involved in playing ttrpg’s this is a no-go. The generic terms of the ttrpg deal are utterly beyond comprehension for most. Therefore, you have many gamers looking for something never promised by the game. So it gets made up.

My recommendation for those who want to get the most out their ttrpg experience is to take an art class with a teacher who does not prioritize technique over creativity but teaches creativity. The medium being just the tool being used to act. Personal lessons taking from such an approach will be develop your ttrpg ability more than anything else I can think of.

EHB Issue #31 Hope You Guess My Name (serialized)

The cable on my external hard drive wiggles loose during recording and leaves me with a corrupted audio file of the game session. Madness I say. Madness because I keep on trying to use the same set up and pretending everything will all turn out right. The stupid, stupid thing is I have a nice 30G thumb drive sitting in my desk which would make a nice "temporary" folder for audio output of the live game session. Fuck it sucks being such an ignoramous on a daily basis.

But the last session did happen and it did occur with the new player in the group, Mr. ZoZo, leading the way into macabre adventures into the mystical.

The session started off normal enough for the superheroes in Capitol City. Mettle and SAIC Sharp traded barbs on the phone over morning coffee and Bug pulled a typical Bug move and vanished from the scene. He did leave a note explaining what the next phase if his "career" was to look like. It meant renouncing his super powers and effecting positive change in the world without using them. And he was taking the jet.

This was going to piss off Bisbee Sharp to no end. Problem now facing Mettle was who would be a partner in her war against crime in Capitol City. Ultra-Rosa was out of the question. That vigilante has some problems. The least of which is the body count she accumulates when she is in action. 

Mettle's reverie on the rough looking shape  of the future  was broken by Floyd, a  regular at the St. Baltimore Food Bank. The food bank was another of Bug's pet projects. It is where Bug left his note for Mettle. 

"Some guy is asking around for Bronson." Jacob Bronson was one of numerous shifty greaseballs which made up the Balty's clients. He was a regular at the food bank, loading up on as much canned goods as he could get away with. Everyone new he would go hustle them later on the street. He was a thief and what friends he had were fellow drug addicts who would fight on his lawn in front of his house. Loser that he was, Mettle found the idea of someone snooping around the St. Baltimore irritating. Floyd pointed him out and Mettle went over to the young man in the wrinkled rain jacked and tie. 

"I understand you are looking for one of our clients?" Mettle addressed him in her natural disarming manner. 

"Not exactly. More like who he was seen with recently. Anyone he might have been fighting with? Have a problem with?"

"Why"

"Well, he died two days ago. Looks suspicious. I'm hoping someone here might know who he was associating with right before he died."

"He's not, well, he was not well like.  There are plenty of people in the neighborhood who wouldn't. I don't know. You are going to have a bunch of suspects." 

"Anyone  capable of casting hexes?"

"Excuse me?" Mettle heard what the guy had said, but she used the moment to do a quick scan of the stranger. He wasn't carrying a gun. He appeared relatively stable, could use a shave, but didn't look like he lived on the street.

"Curses. Did he have problems with anyone who thought they could cast spells and curse people?

Mettle's eyebrows arched and she smirked. "I don't think so?"

"Look," and the guy fished out a piece of paper from his rain jacket. "This note was found next to his body in his house." He handed it to Mettle. "And this is a picture of what he looked like when they found him."

He held up a print out of a color photo. The picture was of a dried cadaver on a carpeted floor.  Dead skin stretched tight over its skull. It looked of someone who had been dead for some time.

"No way." Mettle's eyes widened. "Floyd, when was the last time you saw Jacob?" She called in to the kitchen. The shade over the counter was pulled up and Floyd was there chopping produce.

"Three days ago. He was hassling everyone for a ride. He wanted to go to some store outside of town. He looked real bad too. I don't think he got a ride though. He stomped out of here all mad."

"Do you know where he wanted to go?" Mettle asked. Floyd looked at some older folk at one of the dining room tables. 

"Mabel, he tell you where he wanted to go?" Mabel had a plastic kerchief over her hair from the morning rain. 

"Huntsville Village. Wanted a ride to some new-age-y book store. He was sick and he was going to get some homeopathic bullshit. I said, no way.  I didn't want the covid. Told him to go home, wear a mask you dumb shit."

Mettle asked the guy, "Are you a cop?"

"No". The guy laughs a bit, shakes his head. "I just have an interest in suspicious deaths like this. I have a friend in the force, though. He passed it on to me. He knows the local will go with the corner's report, natural causes, and its done."

"And you think this is murder?"

"Well, read the note, what do you think?"

(continued here)

Even Heroes Bleed Roster Change

 A new player is joining the tribe and it seems appropriate to reflect on the last year of the campaign and how now it is about to change. 

As I’ve mentioned before, the most affordable and complete text of Mayfair’s MEGS mechanics which make up the game engine is the retroclone from Pulsar Games, The Blood of Heroes Special Edition. DC Heroes 3^rd Edition is really good, but I think The Blood of Heroes has all the optional rules ever made for the game beneath its covers.

Anyways, the superhero trio of Olympian, Bug, and Mettle returned from their trip to Belize with the subdued Dr. Good (now calling himself Doctor Draconis) in tow. They deposited the criminal scientist at FBEE headquarters and considered what their next priority is.

This is when Bug’s PC announced he could no longer make our game sessions, and a new player popped up. Big changes in one day!

Bug and Mettle (with assistance from Red Runner) can list shattering the biggest mobs and gangs in Capitol City and, for now, getting them to back off on the street violence, or else! The mystical EE Wotan who was leading the Civil Guard was also banished from our earthly plane. This banishment took the aid of the strange EE called Voodoo, who disappeared with the vanquished Wotan.

These victories did come at substantial cost. Innocent lives were destroyed, and the Baltimore was burned down. The blood toll was so high the young Red Runner hung up his suit and returned to civilian life.

Next, they took on sex-traffickers running out of an Indian reservation, exposed them and got them arrested. After much fighting and punching of faces.

Their next accomplishments were stemming the outbreak of drug-induced violence from the bizarre drug known as BAM! and uncovering the secret experimentation done by the US Government beneath the Pawnsville mine. This lead them on the trail of a criminal mastermind, Dr. Good, which as I have mentioned ended with Dr. Good’s capture.

The new player has a hero who is a person possessed by a demon. Imagine Etrigan from DC Comics and you are not far off the mark, as far as character concept goes. Mystical attacks and strength. Probably a good compliment, team wise. Mettle can manipulate metal and Olympian is a Superman-type heavy hitter. Eye beams, flight, etc. And now a demon who can cast magical spells and rip peoples limbs off. Works for Capitol City from where I'm sitting!

The List of Intriguing Loose Ends is long and subplots too specific to be of interest here in this blog. Here are the major ones I can think of.

The Cockroach Brotherhood, believed to be living in the sewers. Their actual origins are uncertain as well as their motivations. The heroes have been meaning to look for these weird EEs and find out what their deal is, but bigger issues seem to get in the way.

The Roadkill Wrecking Crew. This gang of EE’s has managed four successful high-tech robberies. Why and for what purpose is still unknown. One of their members, Croc, is currently in custody. 

The Congress of Truth. A shadowy organization seeming to continue the work started by the government at Pawnsville. Seems their endgame is delivering utopia through world domination.

Capitol City Mayor. A dirty, racist, power-hungry white nationalist who is responsible for letting loose a serial arsonist on minority neighborhoods. He is making a killing off of subsequent real estate development deals on the burnt property and pays off the heroes each month, so they don’t come at him. But this impasse can only stand for so long before one side or the other makes a move. The Mayor is eager to reassert organized crime as the law of Capitol City, not those damn superheroes!

Deep Ghost, who, what, and where is this guy? Motives unknown. Controls and effects things through internet, cellular, any electronic communication really. Accessing and distributing information seems to be his chief interest. A blackmail expert?

List of criminals in custody due to the heroes actions are;

Croc,

Dr. Good,

Os-M’nog,

Big Man,

Jury,

Lt. James Santavy.