Norazona 2: Dinner & A Show
There’s a load of self-congratulatory D&D storytiming up front. If you just want the important stuff, scroll to the heading, “The Real Stuff”.
Being late, I will skip tagging all of the players and trust you’ve read the other excellent summaries already available and still forthcoming.
Storytime
Pregame
I received a dossier from Crom outlining a psychic detective with a certain problematic predilection. I was given a special ability to sense the presence of an object could I achieve physical contact with another player character for more than a few seconds. My goals were to win $100 gambling, perform a vampiric feeding upon another player, and retrieve a mysterious parcel. I also had $400 from my employer to grease the tracks.
I rolled my own stats and found a strong man with a penchant for knife throwing. A traveling performer type, perhaps. Having my character sheet, an obvious setup appeared: a traveling wrestler, a funny foreign strongman looking for a challenge. This would help me win my gambling objective and put me in contact with people for a psychic pat-down. Welcome to the game, Zan Van Gief.
I was partnered with Seabass Jackson (Josh); we weren’t told that the other player was also a vampire and this wasn’t a sure thing until the opening strains of Braunstein played. Mr. Marinier (Intanius) was looking for a gambling buddy so I sold him on my willingness to toss fights. We’d get the crowd riled up and then I’d fold, splitting the cash.
As the game began, I had to hit the boy’s room so I made a new voice channel called The Outhouse which saw frequent use throughout the night as several of us enjoyed 1:1 libations.
Gambling
The game began with 9 of the 11 players wanting to take up faro as described in the rules. Fortunately, one Barnum Bailey posited a knife throwing competition in the next room and I obliged. I didn’t actually perform that well but Mr. Bailey and our observer, Frogan Zappa, were still tickled when I asked to try it blindfolded. I managed to get three players checked off my psychic search list: Bailey, Zappa, and the Reverend. I informed my partner; handed Zappa an IOU I had won from Bailey with a note from me, “IOU2”; and returned to the main parlor of the saloon.
At the cards table, Seabass and I worked the crowd. Within the first 40 minutes, we had all but one player crossed off: Mr. Marinier. Having set up a work, I invited everyone out to the street for some manly contest. Mr. Marinier and I planned to get their blood up, have my unnamed (to Marinier) partner break up the fight, and then we’d really get the bets pumping. Everyone from the saloon followed me outside… except for Seabass and the saloon owner, Turkey Creek Jack.
Wrestling
The chat was raucous, everybody was having a ball wagering on this fight. When I sent my mind bullet to Seabass that it was time to break up the fight, he thought those fateful words, I am sorry. I am hungry and I think I am going to eat the bartender.
At this point, I began stalling for time, dragging the fight out (the dice did that for me). Interest began to die down, so I changed tack: I went for some punches that knocked out poor Marinier. I offered another challenge wherein Sam Slater crumpled my wore-out body to the ground. I had a chance to do my vampiric finisher on him but obviously didn’t want to blow my spot in front of the entire game. While unconscious, some no-good crook grabbed the remaining $356 dollars from my pocket!
It was about this time that Seabass slipped into the crowd. He waited with me for about 10 real minutes as I regained consciousness then we rushed to the sheriff’s office, having seen Barnum Bailey return to the saloon and then head there himself in quite the hurry.
The Frogan Incident
We burst into the chat hollering about my being robbed, cutting off the explanation I hear Mr. Bailey giving of the gruesome scene in the back of the bar. This gets the sheriff going for a couple minutes; unfortunately, Bailey winds him back in on the murder and they go investigating. Luckily, my bulletproof alibi makes me the only non-suspect in town. The sheriff arms me with a scattergun and the keys for his office. I lock the door behind him and begin rifling through his desk, locking for the parcel. No dice.
About 5 minutes later, everybody but the sheriff comes busting into the chat. I get them to head back into the street channel until the sheriff enters and gives them permission; this is me protecting my secret criminal actions with the “Locked Room” rule for live Braunsteins. Marking a channel as Quiet, Locked, or something similar means that players need permission to enter the room if it’s occupied.
When he brought everyone in, there was a huge tangle of accusations. Finally, just as Seabass went to put hands on Cody Flynn after seeing him disappear suspiciously, that madman Frogan Zappa pulled a stick of dynamite from his boot.
In the blink of an eye, a half dozen illegally concealed pistols were in hand and peppered Mr. Zappa to pieces. In the chaos, Flynn split but the sheriff was more concerned with keeping a handle on the men he already had in his grasp. Barnum Bailey walked himself into a cell while there was some debate over what to do with my buddy Jackson.
Mister Marinier
By now, Mister Marinier was hot on the trail of Seabass Jackson and we needed him out of the way. I agreed that Ol’ Fishlips was a nefarious character and needed jailing but, to avoid locking anyone up with the wicked killer we were after, we should keep Bailey in the sheriff’s one-bed, no-bath cell here and have Jackson locked up in the county jail just down the way. This was agreeable and I got them all out of the sheriff’s office again, leaving Mr. Bailey in the cell and at my mercy.
He said something in passing like, “I’m glad we’re safe now.” I changed the channel name to Sheriff’s Office [Locked] and replied, “Bad news, Bailey.” Hearing such obvious villainy from me, he declared his possession of a knife and tomahawk and a related intention to not be drained of his blood.
I hadn’t realized this clever old dog had walked himself in without being checked for weapons! Immediately, I back off and assure him I was just ominously pausing before saying something about not having caught the killer, that’s all! I passed the real life speech check and we hung out for a few minutes before Mister Marinier asked to enter the office again.
Now, he was supposed to be with Jackson and Slater, if I recall. I shot my mind bullets to Seabass and, luckily, got a quick response:
Do I let him in?
Yes.
Schwack him?
Get him.
The Final Countdown
The clock was ticking in real life; we started at 11pm Eastern and it was now past 2am. Sometimes you have to suffer for art, and suffer I did the next day. Seabass and I still had to find this damn package fast, and this cat was our main obstacle. Marinier enters the chat and I immediately shout him down, “Scattergun, scattergun, scattergun!”
“Really?”
“Yes, really! Scattergun!”
I land a shot on him, sending him back through the doorway, and he stumbles out into the street. Slater and Jackson are out front now. Marinier asks Slater for help and catches more lead for his trouble. They follow me back into the office to plot our next move.
Slater knows about the parcel and Jackson has promised to let him take it, provided Slater got Jackson out of his manacles and out of trouble. Unfortunately, all the commotion brings the sheriff and a new fella I don’t recognize into the office. We do some ditherin’ but it’s ultimately time to do or die.
I try give the sheriff a buckshot sandwich as he frees Bailey from his cell. Slater caps him. The new mystery deputy spits a few at Seabass Jackson but nothin’s doin’ there. This guy, Lil Tex, stops there and promises to skedaddle if he can just have Frogan’s body for the bounty. We tell him to beat it, quick. Now it’s me, Slater, Seabass, and Bailey who caught a stray when we killed the sheriff. Sensing opportunity, I announce to the group, “Mr. Bailey, I vant to sahck your blahd!”
Slater spazzes, emptying his revolver into my back. Seabass clicks on an empty cylinder and so launches himself across the room to grapple Slater down himself. I’m down for the count (waiting to recover with my supernatural abilities) and now Barnum Bailey is sitting alone in a charnelhouse at the mercy of a vampire. Sorry, pal, those are the breaks.
Wrap-Up
Despite the real time now being 3am, several of us stayed on for another hour chopping up the game. It was my first live Braunstein and I was pumped. There were so many revelatory moments: psychically pick-pocketing everyone, working a con inside of a con, seeing my partner hang me out to dry, cleaning up our mess, realizing nobody else knew vampires were in the game, and then revealing I was the vampire the whole time except also I wasn’t! This is the kind of stuff D&D storytime should be made of.
The Real Stuff
Our host, the all-powerful storywarrior Crom, planned an excellent game through the use of player objectives. The most incredible part was realizing that not all of us were working on the same “missing parcel” scenario.
Players were also reaching out to find connections pre-game, some structure to hang on to while they figure out what they’re doing in CowboyLand. This was a good start to avoid an hour of “Well, I’m a cowboy and I like to gamble,” introductions at table time.
The Braunstein logistics are very simple and intuitive: a collection of voice channels tied to physical locations in the game (saloon + private rooms, church, sheriff’s office, jail, two streets, and the outhouses). Everyone can see where everyone is so there’s none of the Play-by-post problem of forgotten players. Setting some rooms as "Locked” then allows players to create situations under their control and without witnesses, an important tool for the ne’er-do-well!
The entire game could have been blown away if our first victim, Hoot, had been a poor sport. Great credit goes to him for his play, both before and after his untimely demise! Guys who are willing to separate the game world from the real world are the only reason you can play games like this; a single super smug loser could have ruined this game at any time with his “mEtAkNoWleDgE”.
I really don’t have any notes for improvement. Boot Hill has great combat mechanics and we put together a great crew of players to handle the rest. Thanks again to Crom for his impeccable preparation for the night.