Living Urf Newsletter #6
May 2025
April Recap & May Preview
Each month, I look at the upcoming slate and wonder if we’ll even have anything to do. Each month, something happens that blows the doors off the place.
In April, we played Crom’s Norazona II, perhaps the greatest orchestrated Braunstein ever brought to the table. Layers of mystery, intermeshed objectives, and (of course) the best players in hobby gaming made it a night to remember.
Brigadine also ran a Braunstein-as-campaign-management scenario featuring the principal leaders and foes of Bloodfall in our AD&D campaign. The Jarl now finds his city besieged by hordes of beastmen who wield the mysterious Blackblade- but how will they feed the people when their blessed Idol was stolen!
And we cannot forget the continued exploration of Classic Traveller’s abilities to run varied scenario types by Snufkin’s continuation of the BroTech Live sessions. From disaster survival to cyberpunk to mech-on-mech violence, this game does it all!
At this point, why bother trying to predict the upcoming month?
Editor’s Note: I was ready to move on to the next segment before I remembered the invention of Livingstone, a daily Boot Hill Braunstein where if you die in the game, you die in the game (permanently). We’ve had shootouts, legal dramas, more shootouts, and all kinds of other awesome stuff that is only possible to those who have liberated themselves from conventional play methods. But Livingstone is just a crash test dummy for things to come!
We’ll be playing a Livingstone session Braunstein on May 17th. Players who have been killed can reenter with an assigned character if they participate in the live game (message Polyfamous for details).
Boy, we really got after it in April! May will continue our ongoing regular campaigns and who knows what other madness we’ll cook up next.
Norazona II
Thank you to our esteemed Judge and resident scenario generator, Crom, for hosting the second Norazona Braunstein. I will simply post the players’ reports here for you to enjoy, as each is insightful as to the methods of running and playing in a successful Braunstein game.
By HootOwl:
By Joshinyu:
By J:
By Polyfamous:
By Nekrodvna:
Man on the Scene: Braunstein #1 at DaveCon
Interstate man of mystery J attended DaveCon at the end of April, joining David Wesely at the table for his historic Braunstein #1 scenario. For more information on Braunstein #1 and a real understanding of the “Braunstein-type game”, read his full article here. This is, I believe, the last thing you’ll ever need to read on the subject. Thanks for sharing!
(Content Warning: J admits to speaking with known female Harmony Ginger at this event! Her initial report on the matter can be found here.)
Norazona Gothic #1
This story is offered up by certified club oldhead DM Raptor Jesus and offers a look at some of the previously unknown adventures of that old ne’er-do-well Frogan Zappa.
The drab rider came from the east over an ever-changing landscape, a tableau of bright colors that faded the closer he got to the Norazona Territory. The lean, squash-faced saddle tramp hunched over his roan, holding onto a homespun sack wearily laid over his saddle. It'd almost cost Frogan dearly to fulfill the gypsy woman's request – but he always delivered.
Soon he saw the familiar peaks of the Rockies rising to the west as he neared the crossroads marking the outskirts of Norazon’. An old drunk injun, nearly Frogan’s only friend, was leaning against the decaying sign for Threescon that stood watch over the intersection.
“Trouble ahead, Mr. Frog. Don't loose your fire 'fore they meet under the great spirits hangin’ pole!” the old drunk offered with a sagely nod. In response, Frogan chuckled and tossed him a quarter-empty bottle of hooch, “Don't get too wise on me, feller, but keep dreamin'.”
The gunhand’s reverie was broken by the buzzing of a fly doing a lazy loop towards Frogan’s face. It suddenly veered out of his dead gaze as if even the fly knew better than to tussle with the saddle tramp. He urged his roan forward with a click of the tongue, given purpose by the buzzing wings. Ahead of him, the door to the gypsy’s hut creaked open and a hunched figure shuffled into the shade of the porch.
The old woman nodded to the rider as he dismounted a few paces from her, handing her the sack. She held out a crudely stitched poke in exchange, adorned with only a single ivory bead. "This will kill the lich in chief?" Forgan asked calmly, only a raised eyebrow breaking his sour stare. The woman shook her head sadly from side to side, never breaking eye contact with Frogan.
"No, friend, but the crystal vial inside, filled with the last dragon’s blood, can,” the old crone chuckled, “ The right ritual will part the bonds of time just enough for you to slip through." Gingerly he took the bag, dangling it by the drawstrings, his face showing some doubt at this statement.
"This isn't exactly what I paid you for gypsy. Explain yourself, I don't really like the idea of making corpses this early in the day." Frogan sneered, looking from the pouch to the woman lazily. She was a third his kin, but he still didn't trust her ways.
She held up a hand, "I'll explain, lad," before falling into a coughing fit. She slowly pulled out a tin flask, keeping a wary eye on Frogan, and pulled out the cork from it. She took a long gulp and then offered the flask to the outlaw. As she spoke in a low tone, his rough hand took the flask with a growing grin on his face.
"Ferigno Verdante's blood needs to fill the vial inside that poke. On the next full moon, after his life force flows freely, you must climb them peaks yonder and paint a circle as wide as your outstretched arms with this blood," She intoned with a confident nod.
She took the tin flask back from his offering hand. "It is important, cousin: its measurements must not be more or less than this and you cannot leave the circle."
The last of the tin flask drained by the surly outlaw, she finished her instructions, "You must only wait until the light of the moon touches the circle, Verdante's blood will begin to work the threads of fate backwards from there. You cannot leave the circle!" Her voice rose, "Lincoln is weak only before he completes his War Ritual; you can easily strike him down at Gettysburg during his speech at the memorial."
The instinct he'd honed over years of marsh robberies and gunfights on the outskirts of Threescon warned him she spoke true. If the gypsy had seen the momentary look of concern on his face, she made no mention of it. "I hope you speak the truth, crone." was all he said as he put the poke around his neck, hiding it under his homespun shirt. "Thank you. If anything, you'll get your revenge on the First National either way, I guess," Frogan chuckled as he turned to ride away.
You can look forward to more of Frogan Zappa’s adventures in future installments of the Living Urf Newsletter! Interested in submitting your own pieces of short fiction? You know who to call.
Club T-Shirt Order
Here is the long-awaited order form for club t-shirts. I will be taking orders through Saturday, May 10th. Shirts will cost approximately $25 before shipping (unless we order more than 30). Expect a 4 week fulfillment time.
I was originally just going to post my story on my blog, but got excited when I was writing it out and sold the club and now its a golden opportunity to contribute something to the club! Living Urf is the best club, we got the best players and the most elite referees.