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For giggles, and because I've wanted to try it ever since I read <a href="https://www.rpgsolo.com/forum/thread-51.html">"My First Zombie Play"</a>, I gave <a href="http://rpgsolo.com/">RPGSolo.com</a> a try with the genre set to "Zombie Apocalypse" and Random Events set to "Mythic". Here's the results, below, formatted using only the Blogger editor. I've otherwise left the content of the actual play the same as from the RPGSolo log window.<br />
<br />
<h2 style="border-bottom: 1px solid;">
Setup</h2>
Hail and well met! It's your old pal, Spencer, from <a href="http://wispsoftime.com">WispsOfTime.com</a>.<br />
Welcome to my first play session using <a href="http://rpgsolo.com/">RPGSolo.com</a>!<br />
<br />
My current setup:<br />
* Display Odds and Rolls<br />
* Generate Mythic Random Events automatically<br />
* Genre: Zombie Apocolypse<br />
<br />
First, I'll see if I can create a character and adventure using Mark's Adventure Questions on the MAQ button:<br />
<br />
[dice]
Mark's Adventure Questions:<br />
Who am I?<br />
Click "Get NPC".<br />
<br />
Ditzy private investigator<br />
<br />
What am I good at?<br />
Click "Get Skill" twice.<br />
<br />
Leatherworking<br />
<br />
Military ordinance<br />
<br />
What do I have in my possession?<br />
Click "Get Thing" twice.<br />
<br />
Below average baseball bat<br />
<br />
Military uniform<br />
<br />
Where am I?<br />
Click "Get Place".<br />
<br />
Corpse-choked department store<br />
<br />
What is my goal?<br />
Either click "MAG" and build a story with Mark's Adventure Glyphs using as many or as few glyphs as you want or click "Get Quest".<br />
(for the sake of speed, I'm just going to use the buttons instead of Glyph interpretations for now)<br />
<br />
Guide the professor to the looted college campus.<br />
<br />
What is the purpose of my goal?<br />
Either get from MAG or click "C.Q." and interpret.<br />
<br />
Haggle / Inside<br />
<br />
(I'll hold the interpretation until all the questions are answered and give a setup summary)<br />
<br />
Who or what is trying to stop me?<br />
Either get from MAG or click "Opposition".<br />
<br />
Listless zombie<br />
<br />
What is the first thing that I need to do or take care of?<br />
Click "Get Action".<br />
<br />
Decrease<br />
[/dice]
<br />
I first note that "ordinance" is probably supposed to be "ordnance". I would have made the same mistake, but I wanted to google the definition to be specific and the misspelling got me.<br />
<br />
ordinance: an authoritative decree or direction :order<br />
ordnance: military supplies including weapons, ammunition, combat vehicles, and maintenance tools and equipment<br />
<br />
One other note, instead of "ditzy" I'm going to use the word "scatterbrained", since the former conjures up too many "dumb blonde" jokes for me (which I don't ascribe to, ladies -- my wife is a blonde, of course).<br />
<br />
Anyhow, putting all that together into a cohesive setup:<br />
<br />
<br />
[story style="fancy" title="Chapter 1"]
<p>
Recently medically discharged from the Navy due to a fractured spine (mostly recovered) and multiple head wounds, I'm a retired S.E.A.L turned scatterbrained P.I. -- and I love acronyms. My hobbies are leathercraft and making stuff go *boom*. The zombie apocalypse is upon me starting about a week ago in the midst of the 4th of July parade, and here I am, still in my dress blues (or what's left of them).
</p>
<p>Luckily, I made it into the ole-timey General Store on Main Street, where behind the counter I found this trusty Louisville Slugger and Dr. Matnick cowering in fear. After smashing about a thousand zombie skulls, I built a wall of corpses to shore up the broken display windows and front door. Unfortunately, the stench is unbearable and rigidity of the "wall o' rigormortis" -- as I've lovingly named it -- is starting to falter as flesh sloughs off bone. It's not safe to stay here anymore.
</p>
<p>The good doctor (Ph.D., not something useful like M.D., of course) is a professor at the local university and just so happens to know a fella there -- one of those guys we would have deemed a "nut-job" survivalist type before -- who we *might* be able to convince to let us set up inside his fallout shelter, to at least make it through a few more days.
</p>
<p>But first, we need to lighten our load. The General Store is more of a museum and tourist attraction that sells mostly useless local crafts, t-shirts, and history junk -- what with Mega-Mart just on the edge of town and all. Luckily they stocked the place with at least a few thematic general store odds and ends for "local flavor", enough that we've got some decent packs and more overpriced organic canned food than we could eat in a month. That would be great, if we could carry it all, but out there we'll need speed over longevity, so we're trimming it down to the most nutrient-dense foods and essentials. In other words: beans, baseball bats, and band-aids.
</p>
<p>That done, we've settled down for our last peaceful night and await the dawn. The buggers seem less active in the light.
</p>
[/story]
<br />
Now I'm going to hit that Save Story link at the top right so I can return later.<br />
<br />
***<br />
Ok, and I'm back, and that seems to have worked. Good deal. I'm assuming I can't save more than the "current" story since it didn't ask for a name and such.<br />
<br />
On with the adventure. I suppose I should start with a Mythic GME 1d10 for scene modification:<br />
<br />
And, I'm not quite sure if I can / how to track the Chaos Rank<br />
<br />
Ok, after some forum searching, Chaos Rank and such don't appear to be implemented here, so I'll keep it up in the Notes section and create Custom lists for NPCs and Threads as expected.<br />
<br />
Ok. That's done. I'm going to "Save Story" and reload tha page since it doesn't seem to show my custom lists yet.<br />
<br />
***<br />
And, back. That did the trick. So, I've got my NPCs (Dr. Matnick, nut-job survivalist guy) and Threads (Guide the professor to the looted college campus.).<br />
<h2 style="border-bottom: 1px solid;">
Scene 1</h2>
CHAOS: 5 and I roll for scene modification [dice style="inline"](1d10 within Chaos):
<b>6</b> = 6[d10]
[/dice]<br />
<br />
No random event or altered scene, so the setup is as described previously. The professor and I have settled in for our last peaceful night, awaiting dawn so we can move towards the university to hopefully find the nutjob survivialist guy and haggle our way inside his fallout shelter (which is hopefully close to the university -- and I'm going to say unlikely that the guy is still there since he's prepared for the zombie apocalypse, but we'll cross that bridge if we get to it). Let's ask some questions:<br />
<br />
[spoiler title="Is the University close by?"]
<br />
(Somewhat Likely | 5[d10]) Yes, but...
[/spoiler]
<br />
It's just outside of Historic Downtown, on the West End, just off main street. But we're at the General Store, on the East End. There's
[dice style="inline"]<b>10</b> = 10[d10][/dice] blocks between here and there.<br />
<br />Excellent. Let's not forget that listless zombie we generated as initial opposition.<br />
<br />
[spoiler title="Is it ready to make its appearance?"]
<br />
(50/50 | 4[d10]) No<br />
[/spoiler]
<br />
I guess Random Events will trigger automatically? I'm not sure how to spot doubles if it's rolling only 1d10 for the Get Answer buttons. I'll just keep on keeping on.<br />
<br />
<br />
[story]
I rouse the professor, we roll up our bedding, and don our packs. I figure the back door is the safest way out -- into the alley, where we can at least funnel any zombie hordes down to two or three abreast. Dr. Matnick assists as I move the random bits of desks, shelving, and other heavy things away from the door. I unbolt the thing and crack it open a hair to see what's outside.
[/story]
<br />
[spoiler title="Is it a listless zombie?"]
<br />
(Likely | 8[d10]) Yes +Event: Move / War<br />
[/spoiler]
<br />
Note to self: don't put ALL of your internal monologue into the text box. I'm pretty sure I triggered the random event just by asking about it. Now we've got a listless zombie and a random event with Action: Move and Subject: War:<br />
<br />
<br />
[story]
Peering outside, I can hear more than see that there's a commotion nearby. Pulling the door open further, I can see just down the alley are 1d4 folks fighting off at least 3d10 zombies. "Hey, Teach," I whisper. "It looks clear nearby, but there's some fighting going on a few doors down. We should move in to help."[/story]
<br />
[dice]
<b>3</b> = 3[d4]<br />
<br />
<b>12</b> = 6[d10]+4[d10]+2[d10]<br />
<br />
3 folks fighting off 12 zombies<br />
[/dice]
<br />
[spoiler title="Does the professor have any fight in him?"]
<br />
<br />
(Very Unlikely | 2[d10]) No<br />
<br />
I didn't think so.<br />
[/spoiler]
<br />
[story]
"B-b-but... " he stammered back. He made tried to say something else but only managed a drawn-out breathy squeak as his knees knocked together.<br />"Listen. Just stay behind me and keep your eyes peeled to our rear. Try muster something better than a squeak if you see something." With that, I haul the door open, looking back the other way to ensure it's clear before I head towards the zombie street brawl. I figure the professor -- what was his name again? -- is following, but I also don't much care. Between myself and the group, a listless zombie feebly drags itself across the ground towards me. I swing with my bat -- does it connect?[/story]
<br />
[dice](Very Likely | 10[d10]) Yes, and...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
-- its skull cracks and bits of blood and brain spatter all around as the zombies head goes flying. It slams into one of the dirty dozen trying to out-flank the good guys and[/story]
<br />
[dice](<b>11</b> = 11[d20]) Minor Injury: Largely superficial; painful and distracting, but not life threatening.[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
knocks off an arm. He continues unabated, so I hasten towards it, pulling down an overhand chop with my Slugger -- does it hit?[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 1[d10]) No, and...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
A flash of light and a pulsing of nerves sends me to the ground, reeling. I blink my eyes and try to shake it off, disoriented and confused. I hear an explosion and taste blood mixed with the gritty texture of sand. The blinding light fades. The ringing in my ears abates. As I look up, a shambling corpse false down on me, gnashing its teeth to the sound of gurgling groans.[/story]
<br />
[dice](<b>12</b> = 12[d20]) Moderate Injury: Hampers action significantly; will require first aid/medical attention.[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
The zombie sinks in it, relishing the sustenance of my living flesh. My good arm. Fuck. I let out my best battle cry and try to knock the thing off of me.[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 4[d10]) No[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
I bat at it with my uninjured arm, but the thing is stronger than it looks. Its jaws are locked tight and I can feel its teeth scraping against my humerus as its cold, dead fingers grasp at whatever pieces of me they can. I can feel the fight-or-flight response kick in with maximum intensity and I manage to get a polished black boot against its core, shoving with all my might to free my arm and get the thing away from me.[/story]
<br />
[dice](Likely | 10[d10]) Yes, and...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Kicking out with fear of my life, I send the dead torso flying. Already damaged, the back half of the skull goes with it and the things gray matter falls at my feet. The lifeless eyes look up at me, but the teeth stay in place -- acting as a tourniquet against blood loss.<p />I quickly survey my surroundings. Back the way I came, a man in glasses lies motionless -- not sure if dead or unconscious. In front of me, 3 people are fighting off zombies. Surely this is a nightmare. I try to pinch myself awake, but instead searing pain rips up my arm and I fall again as my feet trip over something hard and cylindrical. Landing on my uninjured arm, but still feeling the shock, I see a baseball bat near my feet. The words Louisville Slugger are burned into it, and it's dark with the stain of blood, gory bits of bone and skin cling to it amid fresher fluids. I grab the thing by the tape-wrapped handle and haul myself upright. Another zombie falls as the group continues the fight and I rush in to assist.[/story]
<br />
At least 2 zombies are down. How many are left?<br />
<br />
[dice]<b>10</b> = 10[d10][/dice]<br />
<br />
Of course there are. No cheating the odds for me.<br />
<br />
Is the group of 3 uninjured?<br />
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 7[d10]) Yes +Event: Imprison / Extravagance[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
As I approach the melee, the closest of the trio turns to me. Before I can engage or signal the white flag, a wooden weapon -- what looks like a bo staff -- wheels around and nearly takes my head off. The lights go out as I crumple to the ground.[/story]
<br />
***<br />
<br />
(I want to end the scene here, but I feel I need to account for the random event first, rather than start the next scene with the random event (and potentially alter it or inject a new random event).<br />
***<br />
<br />
[story]
I come to, face to face with a chattering set of undead's teeth made further unsettling through doubled vision. A sudden *splat* sends viscera into my face and I fade back out.<br />***<br />A door slides shut. Footsteps fade out of earshot. I can feel my eyes blink, but all I see is black. Dark dreams overtake my consciousness.<br />***<br />I awaken to the smell of -- what's that? rosemary? And potatoes. A burning in my gut signals my ravenous hunger. As I try to sit up, a dull throbbing in my right arm reminds me of my injury. I look and expect to see a gangrenous mess, but instead I let out a cry of shock -- "It's... it's gone!" I back away, as if to escape the stump of arm. My heart races and I fear I might black out again as panic sets in.<br />"Be lucky they hacked it off," a familiar voice said. "Otherwise, you'd be one of those flesheaters by now."<br />A man in glasses sits across from me on the floor of a small and empty, but well-lit room. A bowl of potato soup is in front of me. His is empty. I know this guy. Mister... Doctor... Matlock? No... Teach. I called him Teach. "They...?"<br />"Yes. They -- our captors."[/story]
<br />
<b>END SCENE 1</b><br />
<br />
I update my NPC list to add "The Trio". To the thread list I add "captured". Chaos increases by one.<br />
<br />
Note: To account for the Chaos factor, I'll use the next-highest odds than I anticipate, since higher Chaos typically indicates greater likelihood of a "Yes".<br />
<br />
<h2 style="border-bottom: 1px solid;">
Scene 2</h2>
<br />
I was kinda hoping this wouldn't drag out into a second scene. I just wanted a quick, action-filled AP, and I half hoped to be dead already since I embraced getting bit-up by that zombie. As usual, I end up taking things too seriously and now I feel like I'm embroiled deeply in a thickening plot. I hate it and love it.<br />
<h3>
Scene Setup:</h3>
I've just awoken with a missing arm after getting bit real good by a zombie. I'm now imprisoned with Dr. Matnick, in what I surmise is a "cell" for us, with a bowl of potato soup and a lot of questions.<br />
<br />
[dice]1d10 for scene mod:<br />
<br />
<b>4</b> = 4[d10]<br />
<br />
4 is within the Chaos rank of 6. An even number indicates an interrupt scene. Generate Focus and Action + Subject, then interpret as the interrupt catalyst:<br />
<br />
Introduce a new NPC<br />
<br />
Persecute<br />
<br />
A plan<br />
<br />
[/dice]
<br />
[story style="fancy"]
Before I can execute my next thought process, the door to the room flies open, slamming against the wall, rattling its hinges. Who is it?[/story]
<br />
[dice]Gloomy therapist[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
A man in a white lab coat leisurely strolls in. He's followed by two very burly looking dudes in black leather masks -- lucha libre style.<p />"That one," he says, pointing at me. The two beefcakes snatch me up and walk me out of the room. Where the heck am I?[/story]
<br />
[dice]Burned-out supermarket[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
They escort me out of what appears to have been a storage closet of some sort, into a large warehouse looking room that appears to have been ravaged by fire. Daylight streams in through holes in the roof and rows of charred shelving lead off towards that end of the building. We pass several large freezer doors and I can hear muffled talking in this one, scraping and thumping sounds on the door of that one. Finally, we ascend a set of stairs into a large office room.<p />"Here he is," announces the one in the lab coat. "As requested, the one who was bitten."<p />A heavy-looking oak desk is in the middle of the room. Behind it, a leather office chair wheels around -- who's sitting there?[/story]
<br />
[dice]Ungrateful female vagrant[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
A woman, unkempt-looking as could be with dirt on her face, hair in matted dreadlocks, and a gleam of cunning in her eye.<p />"Ahh... the boy who lived!" she joked. "Except, I guess the Dark Lord missed your forehead and hit your arm instead?" After a bought of what I can only call maniacal laughter, she composes herself and continues. "A sailor, eh? When we found you, this fellow here was having you for lunch, still." She nodded her head towards a head on her desk. It was covered in mottled bits of skin and stringy gray hair. Its eyes were dead and it had bits of blue cloth in its mouth. "A sailor, eh?" she asked? I notice she's got my trident pinned to her coat. Its polished surface stands out in stark contrast to the filth that surrounds the woman. "What brings you to the zombie apocalypse?"<p />I furrow my brow and clench my jaw, but keep my mouth shut.<p />"Come on, sailor... dead one got your tongue, too?" She laughs again. "Perhaps you'd like to tell me why you were sneaking up on my friends while they were harvesting zombie souls?" She must be referring to the fight in the alley.<p />"I was only trying to help --"<p />"SILENCE!" she yells at me. "I know your type. Ex-military, full of themselves. Looking down on the little folk, and spitting in the eye of the unfortunate as you march by in your pretty uniforms. Some parade, huh?" she asks. I just watch. "You're all fools, though, you know? Why don't world leaders just duke it out mano-a-mano and save the rest of the world the strife of war? It's the poor, you know? They're the ones who become soldiers. Either you end up on the streets, or you go off to fight your president's war and then come back and end up on the streets, minus a limb or two. Ah -- sorry. I'm sure that's a 'touchy' subject for you right now. At least it wasn't a bomb or a bullet, right? I suppose it's ironic that the streets to your limb instead."<p />Alright. This bitch is crazy. How am I going to get out of here? I look around the room some more. There's not much in here but some filing cabinets and papers strewn all over the floor. The burly mask dudes I'm not feeling so confident I can take with only one good arm. The other guy is leaning against the wall, disinterested, picking bits of fuzz off of his white lab coat.[/story]
<br />
[spoiler title=Is there another way out?"]
<br />
(Somewhat Likely | 10[d10]) Yes, and...<br />
[/spoiler]
<br />
[story]
Behind the woman is a wall of windows, which appear to look out over the supermarket. It's pretty dark out there, but I think I'd rather take my chances with the fall. What about Matnick, though? And the nutjob with the shelter? I'll figure it out as I go.<p />I look off to the side, as though I'm surveying the place and suddenly make a run for it. I leap over some chairs by the woman's desk and see her bo staff come spinning out. She misses this time, though, and I continue past. I lean in with my good arm, duck my head down and leap with all the force I can muster. Time slows down. Glass shatters -- am I cut?[/story]
<br />
[dice](Very Likely | 6[d10]) Yes, but...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Yes, but nothing major. Superficial nicks are nothing when you've been bitten to the bone. They sting like hell, though. Down I go, falling into darkness. I try to land and roll out of it, but I can't see what's below. Am I injured?[/story]
<br />
[dice](<b>11</b> = 11[d20]) Minor Injury: Largely superficial; painful and distracting, but not life threatening.[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
I manage to hit with my feet, but tweak my ankle real good and fall to the floor amid the clatter of shards of glass. Is there anyone down here?[/story]
<br />
[dice]Hoard of zombies[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Oh, shit! How many?[/story]
<br />
[dice]<b>27</b> = 5[d10]+3[d10]+9[d10]+10[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Moans and shuffling feet come from every direction. I look for a way around them -- is there anything?[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 5[d10]) No, but...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
I can't see a way past the encroaching horde. I back away as best as I can and my hand finds a[/story]
<br />
[dice]Superb slingshot[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Slingshot? That's hilarious. God must have a sense of humor to hand a slingshot to a one-arm man as dozens of zombies close in on him. I throw it aside and continue to scuttle away, backing down the wall. Is there a door?[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 5[d10]) No, but...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Damn. Backed into a corner. Beside me I find[/story]
<br />
[dice]Bullet-proof vest[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
the headless body of a S.W.A.T. officer. He's still got his sidearm holstered. I manage to pull it free and start blasting zombie brains. What is this, a Glock 22? How many rounds do those hold? 15? I don't remember, but I know there's at least twice as many zombies as I have bullets. I try to make every shot count. How many do I take out?[/story]
<br />
[dice]<b>10</b> = 5[d10]+5[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
I unload the magazine and manage to take out 10 of the bastards. The other five shots were wasted. There's still more than a dozen coming towards me. They're close now. Is this the end for me?[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 1[d10]) No, and...[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
Just as I'm about to resign myself to fate, I see the shield. A big black one with the SWAT letters across the front. I haul it up onto my arm and charge the edge of the dwindling horde. I slam through two of them and keep going. Is there a way out of here now?[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 4[d10]) No[/dice]<br />
<br />
[spoiler title="I can't see a thing. Are there more zombies?"]
<br />
Festering zombie<br />
<br />
Crawling zombie<br />
[/spoiler]
<br />
[story]
A zombie torso comes skittering across the floor with inhuman speed. I try to turn down the next aisle -- canned soups and the like -- and meet face to face with a mug only a mother could love. Actually, no, she would probably still vomit at the sight. Am I hit?[/story]
<br />
[dice](50/50 | 10[d10]) Yes, and...<br />
<br />
(20 = 15[d20]+5) Critical Injury: Requires immediate attention; clearly life-threatening if not immediately deadly.<br />
[/dice]
<br />
[story]
He grabs me, knocking the shield aside, and sinks his teeth into my neck. The pain is excruciating. Surely he's got my jugular, as I can feel warm wetness pouring down my side. I scream and try to throw him off as the crawler grabs my legs and we all pile up on the floor. Oh, God. There's no way out of this one, right?[/story]
<br />
[dice](Almost Impossible | 2[d10]) No[/dice]<br />
<br />
[story]
I can hear, more than feel, their chewing and flesh-rending as my life force pours out of me. Tunnel vision sets in. Everything goes numb as blinding white light overtakes me.[/story]
<br />
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<b>THE END</b></h4>
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