OSR Compatible 2nd-4th lvl dungeon AA01 Purging Woth N'rld Okwy's Muddy Hole Now a Reliable POD

 AA01 Purging Woth N'rld Okwy's Muddy Hole, my first and only dnd module has finally seen the light of day on DriveThru as a physical book!

Not only a physical book, but all the art is "fixed", new art introduced, and the Appendix is better organized. It is still the twisted little weird dungeon Bryce Lynch loved, so if you are looking for another decent adventure for your OSE sandbox you can't go wrong with PWNOMH!

40 pages, A5 (digest?) size, black and white illustrations and text. Several of the pages in the back are just VTP ads, but I think the book looks cooler with them in than out. 

The book is organized with a simple adventure "hook" and a dungeon "ecology" page. Dungeon Ecology is a bird's eye view of how the denizens of the place go about their business. How the different factions interact, and conflicts between the facts of the fables, and the dungeon itself... 

Every one of the creatures described in the key come with complete statistics in the Monster Gallery. I think it is important for an old school adventure module to include all the stat's for the Monsters and NPCs which will be encountered in the course of events.  So my first old school module includes those.

One critique leveled at the module is the treasure is not substantial for the levels indicated. Fair enough, each to their own. But I did look at the treasure horde in the module and have increased it here and there from the original edition.

All in all, like many rpg products, this second edition is an improvement over the first. While the content and quirky ideas remain, the organization is better, and therefore should be a more enjoyable product for the DM to run at the table. 

Successful delving!

Western USR now in Hardback POD

Just got the proof in last night and I approve! The hardcover edition of Western USR. Pop on over to Drivethru and order yours today. 

This is the first hardback publication from the press and I can see why this digest sized format is popular. The same size LotFP has ridden for continued success. It lays flat at the table and compact size make it a breeze to travel with. The durable hardcover will make this indie print last forever on the game shelf, I imagine. Well, I don't need to imagine because I can look at my hardbacks currently on my game shelf. Monoliths of stone I tell you.

As with any USR game the rules are dead simple, but offer a granularity of results and uses only seen in bigger games. Character creation takes literally 5, 10 tops. The gun play is deadly, and splattering gore is encouraged. There is the introduction of a Speed attribute, all important on the day of your main street shoot-out. 

Decent equipment list for all your western sundries, straightforward weapons tables and a combat system. while simple, allows all the flexibility a game needs to provide opportunities for cinematic action. $15.58 at Drivethru, shipping has been 3 weeks for me from Drivethru. It has reached copper status already with no marketing what so ever, great. It will be a while before I release any supporting adventures, but if you want a set of Western rules you can pick up and go... can't go wrong with Western USR.

Oh. yeah, I totally nailed getting text on the spine. Perfectly located. You don't have much room vertically with a 34 page book. 

Classic Traveller AAR, part two (Saars storyline)

This is a continuation of the serialized after action report from my last live game session, playing Classic Traveller in my OTU, The Shattered Worlds campaign.

Stab pulled out a multi-tool containing a monofilament blade and the battery powered saw sliced through the duralloy fencing with a wave of his hand. He peeled back the fence from one side of the cut and stood back. Dab stepped through, weapon up, and posted up in a crouch several meters onto the grounds. Captain Green slipped through followed by Saars. Stab joined the troupe.

"You two go right, Saars and myself go left. Assess whether we got threats from each of these grow houses. We meet up in front of the control tower at the south end. Comms open, count off your buildings." Green gave his orders clearly without letting his voice carry. The rain had let up and more of the grounds could be seen through the lightening haze. Rumbles of the next weather system could be heard above black swollen rain clouds. The squad broke up and they made quick splashing sounds as they trotted through the mud. 

Green and Saars had just passed the second of the three long buildings on their side of the complex when Dab's voice crackled over the coms.  

"We've got the door on the west side open. No lights or power, all quiet."

"Post up, we'll come to you. We are going to cross straight over just south of you between building two and three." Green and Saars splashed their way across the grounds and caught up to Dab and Stab who were up against the wall, one on either side of the open door. Captain Green popped on the light attached to his carbine and shined it through the open door into the dark building's interior. Without a word he slipped inside, Dab right on his heels. Green gave the all clear and the other two men entered as well.

It was a typical farm outbuilding. There were six slug pools spaced evenly on the floor of the thirty meter long building. Normally the circulating equipment would be running, churning up the brown slop and feeding nutrients into the tub full of wriggling Skalvil mud-slugs. But the machines were off. Green and Dab were scanning the surface of the first large grow tub with their gun-mounted lights. 

"What the hell?" Dab stated flatly. The slug tubs were not all that deep. A meter or so of organic brown slop. This made it easy to see the fermenting pool of compost was jammed with eight or more naked bodies. All appeared dead. They had been soaking in the slime for more than a week, if the bloated bodies and loose, rotting skin were any indication. 

"Pull them out. I want to look at them." Green ordered his men. Saars looked on as the dead were pulled from the mud and laid like wet lumps onto the concrete floor of the building. Non-descript, men and women. Four of each. No obvious signs of death. No bullet wounds, cuts or blunt trauma. 

"I've seen that mark before," Saars says. He points to one the deceased's chest. A curious symbol is carved into the soggy flesh. Like a stylized lower-case "n" with three circles clustered within the upside down arms of the n. The terrorists which we killed at Oh-Rif. They all had this same symbol carved on their chest. And recently, like these poor bastards. This definitely ties the theft of the dead scout from the water plant to these slug farmers."

"Stab, scrape a skin sample off a couple of these stiffs. I want Collice's lab rats to test for poison and possible psycho-actives." Green ordered. "Dab, looks like your guess on cult looniness is close to the mark."

"What do you expect, living out on the wastes making your own clean water and clean air? Sooner or later something breaks down under corrosion and everyone starts huffing fumes and shooting their neighbors." Dab finished his statement with a quick scan of the ceiling with his light. 

"Okay, I've recorded some images." Saars put the pocket vid device back in his coat. "We should get into the control tower. If anyone is still alive around here they will be there. Or below in the living quarters."

Classic Traveller After Action Report

A "regular" in my mostly on ice Classic Traveller campaign was up for continuing his adventures last week and I was stoked to get to have more action "under the dome" on the planet Skalvil. We scrounged up a new player to join him, and after he printed his auto-generated Traveller character (ex-army) we got cracking. This is a continuation of Saars adventures. He was on the first adventure with three other players. They were cops and Saars was their contract computer hacker. After that first session Saars parted ways with his cop friends and has continued the starting adventure thread on his own. He has a current patron, the owner of a successful racing family. Very wealthy. Saars is trying to help him figure out what is wrong with his son. This means getting a hold of the corpse of a scout which has been kidnapped by colonists living on the Skalvil Wastes...

When Saars finished his debrief he waited for Collice to reply, rattling his ice around in his glass. He backed the last of his drink and sat back, waiting.

"I would like to send in a recovery team. If we have been able to locate the likely location of the stolen corpse this fast then OHRIF won't be far behind." Collice announced after completing his thoughtful pause. I have a team of three specialists ready to go. Very good at what they do. I would like you to lead them in. You'll be well-paid of course."

"What does 'well paid' amount to, exactly?" Collice smiled and stated a number which Saars definitely considered meeting the criteria for well paid. 

"I'm sure your comms and computer skills are going to be necessary.. Your crew will handle anything dirty so hopefully you won't have to shoot at people. They also have strict orders not to let you get killed. Deal?"

Saars nodded. "We'll need another grav vehicle. The last one is trashed by plowing through a Wempeer flock. It will need some bodywork before you send it up again."

Saars assault team was made up by a Captain Green and "spiff-jacked" pair of brothers, Stab and Dab. You could tell by their comm units being implanted in their neck. These would be feeding someone on Collice's end the pair's vital signs, live video, tracking beacon, etc. All wore high-end tactical gear (lacking any kind of insignia, of course), auto rifles built to withstand Skalvil's constant acid rain, sensing equipment, targeting shells, "air-eaters", and plenty of clips of armor piercing rounds. Green was a dry, somber man who served in the Inner Systems. Straight army. Dab and Stab apparently served under Green and followed him to the Outer Frontier in search of high paying merc jobs.

Dab did all the talking. To Green. Stab didn't say jack. Phlegmatic and sneering, the most noise Stab would make was a slight clucking sound in the back of his throat. Off and on. He looked bored to be there. Dab went down preferred landing and approach vectors with Green one more time and got into the new grav vehicle. Stab stored a bag of rifles and assorted small arms in the rear hatch. The grav unit was another high performance, all terrain jeep fitted out to tackle the cracked and splintering canyons of the Skalvil Wastes and not break down under the strain of the acid rain storms which were constant on this planet. Saars could tell it was clad in heavier armor. He stuck his auto-mag in his jacket pocket and climbed in next to Green, who was driving.

The garage doors sealed, the roof peeled back, and the Grav lifted into the purple, cloud-choked sky. The lights of Kazawan City were quickly lost behind a screen of drizzle. The heads-up 3D diagram gave a luminous depiction of the ground they were flying over. Green and red lines displayed the canyons, elevations and weather patterns on the windshield. The purple haze and mist ate up the arc lights. Green flew fast and steady. 

"Their is a decent sized bluff crowding the farm from the north. Land on the backside of that." Saars instructed. "This rig have good jamming equipment?" 

"Please," Green replied, not taking his eyes off the wet, purple slop they sailed through. "Tell me something about these slug farmers." he asked. 

"Not much to tell. The place has been a low output farm for ten years, maybe. The only anomaly I can find is they stopped doing business a month ago. Stopped shipping protein, turned back regular suppliers. I mean, it isn't anything they can't do, but hard to make a living if you aren't selling anything. Besides, these places have a clan size of 15-30 people. How much slug protean does a farm family need?"

"They've gone looney. Someone licked the wrong slug. We are going to find a colony of tripping sub-surface farmers. I sure hope I don't have to shoot one of these farmer raving and waving plasma cutters on a three-day burner." said Green shaking his head. Dab and Stab fingered and inspected their carbines again and again. The grav unit had to endure a sudden acid rain surge. It burnt out the exterior antenna and tight-beam transmitter. This meant communication between the squad and Collice was severed. Couldn't be helped. Once inside the compound Saars was sure he could hook something up and get back in contact.

"Strap in." Green announced. He cut speed, dropped the generator and the grav plummeted downwards. Ten meters from the ground, if the display was to be believed, Green popped the grav generator back on and the vehicle settled with a practiced, sudden stop. Green was able to make a slam landing without so much as a meter skid. They all pulled down their protective hoods and stepped out onto the rain soaked hill. Gravel-thick mud slurried around their boots and the rain came straight down. Their goggles pulled the disorientating purple of the atmosphere from their vision. 

It was a short walk to the crest of the hill. The farm laid below them. Rain bathed the grounds. Marking lights winked from their perch atop the perimeter fence. No could be seen moving on the surface and no lights appeared to be on in the slug hatcheries. At the opposite end of the farm from where they looked down they could see the communications tower. This concrete, two-story bunker would also harbor access below ground where the colonists would be living.

"Looks quiet and clear. Only signal coming from the tower says the farm is closed to landings." This was Dab. He was looking at his scanner wrapped in a tough, clear plastic. 

"Okay, lets descend in line, three meters apart. Once at the fence line Stab cuts it open and we walk right in. Any one approaches you, wants to talk to you, you put them down. We are here to pick up the package and assume the farmers don't want us to take it. No fracking around." 

The squad picked their way down the slippery hill and in ten minutes were standing in the shallow puddles along the slug farm's northern fence line. 

(to be continued)