Printing and Punching

Posted on September 19, 2017 By

The print version of Ghost Punchers is now available!

The metaphorical trigger I mentioned last week has now been pulled. Ghost Punchers, the roleplaying game of supernatural investigation and violence, is now available via print-on-demand at DriveThruRPG. I’ve got a copy of the soft-cover edition in my sweaty mitts even as I type this (which makes typing difficult, I’ll admit) and it looks pretty sharp. If you’ve been waiting for an opportunity to do likewise, here your chance!

Speaking of Ghost Punchers: A quick reminder that I’ll be running two sessions of the game on September 29 and 30 at Tacticon in Denver. So if you’re in the area, and want to see what the hype is about, swing on by and check it out! (And yes, I’ve ordered some hard copies of the book to sell at the show, but they take time to print and ship, so it’s not a sure thing.)

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Soon.

Posted on September 14, 2017 By

Update: Soon is now! The print version of Ghost Punchers is now available for purchase. Yay!


Why yes, that is a picture of the long-promised and long-delayed print version of Ghost Punchers!

But no, it’s not available for purchase just quite yet. This is my first outing with physical products, so I want to double-check that every detail is accounted for before pulling the trigger. But once that metaphorical trigger is pulled, rest assured I’ll be shouting it from the rooftops.

In related Ghost Punchers news, I’ll be running two sessions of the game on September 29 and 30 at Tacticon in Denver. So if you’re in the area, and want to see what the hype is about, swing on by and check it out! (And yes, with any luck, there will be hard copies of the rulebook at the con available for purchase. We’ll see how my detail-checking and trigger-pulling goes between now and then.)

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Arranging to be Punched

Posted on September 8, 2017 By

I love writing fiction. I love the world of Ghost Punchers. So I’ve smashed these two loves together like a pair of Siamese twins joined at the fist in order to present a bit of ghost-punching flash fiction. If you enjoy it, please share it! (You can find previous ghost-punching flash fiction here and here.)

The Arrangement

Two women sat across from each other in the back booth of Joe’s Sunset Diner at 11:35 PM. One was dressed in an aggressively-professional pant-suit. The other wore a police uniform. Each had a cup of coffee and a manila envelope in front of her.

“Did you do it?” asked the cop. “Did you dump him?”

“Oh yes,” said the suit. “You were absolutely correct. He was cheating on me.”

“The woman from his office?”

“No. An old girlfriend. You were right about that, too.”

The cop smiled slightly as she sipped her coffee. She tried not to look smug.

“Go ahead,” said the suit. “Say it.”

“I told you so?”

It was the suit’s turn to smile. “That’s right. You earned it. Say it.”

“I wish I hadn’t been right, though. Sorry. About him, I mean.”

“Nonsense,” said the suit. “I knew he was a cheater and I was foolish to go out with him in the first place.”

She glanced at the clock behind the diner’s counter and gave an almost imperceptible frown.

“Down to business, then?” asked the cop.

Without waiting for a reply, she slid her envelope across the table.

“Got some good stuff for your boss this week,” she said. “Couple of weird locked-door suicides that don’t quite add up. A guy complaining that someone’s rearranging his furniture in the middle of the night. And a whole string of folks reporting screams and ‘inhuman howls’ over in the Crown Crest building.”

“Crown Crest?” asked the suit. “That’s one of those exclusive new apartment buildings downtown, right? Where they won’t even look at your application if you make less than two hundred grand a year?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Heard they got sued over that policy. Not sure how it turned out.”

“No doubt they settled. Those types of management companies are loaded with cash earmarked for throwing at problems until they go away.”

“Sounds like your kind of client,” said the cop.

The suit smiled. “You know my employer well. The suicides and the other cases I’ll pass along to Jackson and his amateur Scooby gang. But yes, we’ll definitely be talking to someone at Crown Crest.”

She slid her envelope across to the cop. “Your usual fee.”

The cop sighed, shook her head, and pushed the envelope back.

“Actually…” she started.

“Is there a problem?” asked the suit.

“No. Not with… not with our arrangement. But I was hoping that instead of the usual fee, you could help me with an… unusual problem of my own.”

“Of course,” said the suit. “Name it.”

“It’s my daughter. She’s been hearing things. In the walls, at night.”

“Voices?”

“Yes, but other things too. Groaning and creaking. Heavy footsteps.”

“Is this at your home?”

“No. No, this is at her dad’s place in the suburbs. She comes back after a weekend out there and she’s exhausted. Can’t sleep at night, and of course he won’t believe her.

“She’s scared, Julia. She’s only nine and she can’t handle this sort of —”

“We’ll take care of it.” The suit—Julia—placed a reassuring hand the cop’s wrist. “I’ll talk to management. I’ll explain what an essential resource you are, and how… how you’re a friend. To the company. To me.”

The cop’s shoulders slumped with relief.

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it. By this time next week, your ex’s house will be ghost-free, and he’ll be none the wiser. That’s the Singular guarantee.”

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Pillar Priest

Posted on September 6, 2017 By

My Patreon patrons already read this weeks ago, but for everyone else… Previously, I wrote about unique, individual “pillar characters” who appear in multiple stories across the storyworld and fulfill important structural roles within the world itself. Below is one such character from the Empire of Venom & Silk storyworld.

Varan Tull, High Priest of the Spider Gods

Before the invasion, Varan was a high-ranking priest of Alumesh, the goddess of peace and mercy. When the spiders swarmed across Namzi-Shun, Varan and his acolytes turned their temple into a sanctuary for those fleeing the invaders. They prayed to Alumesh for protection. They received nothing but silence in return, and the temple was overrun. Varan and a handful of survivors fled deeper into the city.

In mad desperation, Varan rejected the goddess and embraced the invaders as his new gods. He swore that if the spiders spared his life, he would dedicate it to serving them as their priest. When the spiders indeed passed over the house where he and the others were hiding, Varan took it as a sign. He carved the “sign of the spider” onto his flesh and commanded his acolytes to do the same. Those who refused were cast out to be devoured by his new gods.

Today, Varan leads a thriving cult of spider-worshipers in the ruins of the once-great city of Namzi. His theology is jumbled and contradictory, with an emphasis on human sacrifice, but there’s no denying that those who bear the sign of the spider tend to survive longer than those who don’t.

Varan is a powerful, charismatic speaker. He exudes an intensity that can inspire, seduce, or intimidate as he sees fit. Armed with this forceful personality, he prefers to stay hidden in his temple and send his minions out to collect food and sacrifices. He is too important, he says, to risk the dangers outside. Without him to speak to the spider gods, the cult would be enslaved or devoured like everyone else.

Role: In terms of the Empire of Venom & Silk storyworld, Varan’s role is that of the “famous villain.” His reputation is known throughout the the Fallen Realm, and even beyond.

Quote: “I know you’ve suffered. You’ve lost much. We all have. But we have also be given a second chance to experience beauty, wonder, and power such as we’ve never known. The crawling ones have stripped away our empty, hollow lives to reveal our true selves. Embrace it! Embrace your true self, take the sign of the spider upon your flesh, and become the higher being you know you were born to be.”


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Punching Hitlers for Fun and Profit

Posted on September 1, 2017 By

The one-sheet Ghost Punchers adventure, Too Many Hitlers! Is finally available for download.

What’s better than punching ghosts? Punching Nazi ghosts!

The Gold Star Classic Eatery is haunted! Customers’ dinners are transformed into dishes of horror. Waiters are locked in the freezer by mysterious forces. And people are being assaulted in the restroom by what appears to be the ghost of Adolf Hitler.

The owner of the Gold Star has had enough! These ghosts need a good punching, and he knows just the heroes to administer it.

Too Many Hitlers! is a short adventure for the Ghost Punchers roleplaying game, which is available for purchase here.

In other ghost-punching news… I’m cautiously pleased to note that the files for the print-on-demand version of Ghost Punchers are at the printer. This is my first time doing POD, so I suspect I did something wrong and the printer will be kicking the files back (thus the caution), but if not… hard copies could be available before Halloween. (Oh no! I just jinxed it!) Stay tuned for updates!

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Packer’s First Milestone

Posted on August 28, 2017 By

I’ve hit a milestone on my Packer’s Last Resort card game: I can no longer playtest it by myself.

Oh, I can still make sure most of the mechanical tweaks are working, and that my math hasn’t turned the game into a collapsing, flaming wreck. But as I simultaneously played four different hands during my last testing session, I realized that it just wasn’t working anymore.

Solo testing is great for two types of games:

  • those with perfect information (in which every player knows the complete game state, like in chess), and
  • cooperative games, since the players are all working together to beat the game.

(It’s also great for completely random games in which players make no decisions (like, say, Candyland), but if you ever see me designing one of those, it’s a coded cry for help and you should call the police.)

Packer’s Last Resort is none of those. Each player has a secret hand of cards, and plays a card in secret each turn. So not only is information hidden, there’s actually a bit of bluffing in the game as well. (“Did he really just play a ‘Fight’ card, or he merely messing with me?”) And trying to bluff when you’re playing the roles of all the players? That’s a bit rough. It’s safe to say it’s no longer an accurate representation of how a real game would play.

Fortunately for me, I’ve got a good community of playtesters and fellow game designers in the area. Unfortunately for them, the game’s still got some serious issues (there are approximate 10 minutes of fun in the 20 minute game), but I look forward to using their feedback to file off the most jagged edges…

…and move on to the next milestone.

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A Flash of Desperation

Posted on August 25, 2017 By

I love writing fiction. I love the world of Ghost Punchers. So I’ve smashed these two loves together like a pair of Siamese twins joined at the fist in order to present a bit of ghost-punching flash fiction. If you enjoy it, please share it! (You can find previous ghost-punching flash fiction here.)

Desperate Measures

The bartender cocked a skeptical eyebrow at Jackson. “You sure?”

Jackson tried to answer, but found there was too much static on the line between his mouth and his brain. Instead he nodded and tapped the bar in front of him.

The bartender turned his eyebrow to Lori. She curled her lip at him.

“You heard the man,” she snipped. “Another shot.”

A moment passed. Jackson was afraid the bartender was going to cut them off.

“Fine,” the bartender grunted. “One more. But that’s it. I’m not losing my license over this. And if your dad pukes, you’re mopping it up.”

“Whatever,” said Lori. “And he’s not my dad.”

Jackson gave her a bleary-eyed look. “Close enough,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send you a father’s day card if it’ll get you back to work.” She slid the photo in front of him again. “Anything yet?”

Jackson focused on the image and let the alcohol penetrate the rusty hinges of his steel-trap mind. He saw what he’d been seeing since the client had given them the picture yesterday: eighteen children, all fourth-graders, standing on and in front of a set of playground equipment. A school building loomed in the background. He couldn’t see the name, but knew it was Keller Elementary, where the client worked. The kids were smiling. But one of them didn’t belong.

Jackson shook his head. “Nothing. Sorry.”

A shot glass appeared in front of him.

“That’s the last one,” said the bartender.

Jackson mumbled his thanks and wrapped his fingers around the glass. He raised it in a mock toast to Lori.

“To desperate measures,” he said, and slammed the liquor down his throat.

Jackson closed his eyes while the drink did its work. He could feel exhaustion creeping around the edges of his mind, like a hungry wolf circling a campfire. He hadn’t slept in three days. The booze wasn’t doing him any favors on that front.

He opened his eyes and looked down. There were nineteen kids in the photo.

The newcomer appeared the same age as the others, but instead of a smile, he wore a deep, dark scowl. He stood behind a grinning blond girl in a princess t-shirt. His hands were on her shoulders. Heavy. Possessive.

Jackson tapped the girl.

“That’s him,” he said. “Or… her. He’s the… the threat. She’s possessed.”

Lori pulled out her phone. “I’ll let the client know. He’ll need to keep her separated from the others.”

“The boy,” said Jackson. “He’s old. Nineteen fifties? Forties? Looks mad.”

“The school was built in 1952,” said Lori. She hit the “send” button on her phone and started digging through through her bag. She pulled out a photocopy of an old yearbook page.

“One of these guys look familiar?”

Jackson nodded and pointed at a black-and-white portrait. The boy in the picture had a different hairstyle and shirt than his counterpart in the class photo, but the scowl was the same.

“Him.” The word was surprisingly hard to push past his now-numb lips.

“Figured it would be. Charlie Alcott. He died there over Christmas break, 1955. Froze to death, apparently.”

“Revenge?”

Lori shrugged. “I guess? That would explain why he stuck around, and why he hits right before they shut the place down for break… Which is tomorrow.”

Jackson had a witty reply, but his campfire was going out. He slumped forward and cradled his head in his arms on the bar. From somewhere far away, he heard Lori whisper.

“You did good, old man. You did good.”

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Pillar Snake

Posted on August 23, 2017 By

My Patreon patrons already read this weeks ago, but for everyone else… Previously, I wrote about unique, individual “pillar characters” who appear in multiple stories across the storyworld and fulfill important structural roles within the world itself. Below is one such character from the Empire of Venom & Silk storyworld.

Rannon “the Snake” Tave

Rannon “the Snake” Taver was a hunter who roamed the plains of Shuna-Korvassa, stalking the local wildlife for their meat, bone, and hides. Though he hunted for the sake of his extended family, he enjoyed his quiet life of self-reliance and solitude.

When the spiders sent their stalkers swarming into the region, Rannon tried to ignore the incursion. So long as the invaders left him alone, he left them alone. But when he saw the suffering of those living and dying beneath the spiders’ rule, he knew he had to do something.

First, Rannon turned his skills towards hunting stalkers. This was satisfying, but it didn’t really help those who were staggering beneath the invaders’ yoke. So he has now become a smuggler.

From his years of tracking prey, Rannon knows the best routes for slipping through the rugged plains. He also knows how to make detailed plans (and contingency plans) that leave nothing to chance. Armed with these skills, Rannon has dedicated himself to smuggling food, weapons, and other goods from the Stronghold, through the Hunting Grounds, and into the Webbed Lands. He is often found in Poraz, trading his various bones and hides for goods to help those in the occupied realms.

Rannon is a master planner. He is exceptionally cautious, and has never come close to being caught by the spiders or their human minions. However, his constant vigilance doesn’t allow him to get close to anyone else, and threatens to blossom into irrational paranoia.

Role: Rannon is the archetypal “smuggler of the Hunting Grounds.” He represents, in a general way, all the smugglers who make their living sneaking people and goods through these spider-infested lands.

Quote: “Give me swords. All you got. Don’t worry how I’ll get them into Zira. I got a plan.”


Like what you see here? Want to see more of it? Come join my Patreon! Not only do you get early access to world-building blog posts, but you get exclusive content too, and the warm fuzzy feeling that comes from knowing that it’s your support that allows me to keep writing this material.

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Too Little Misery

Posted on August 21, 2017 By

I’ve continued to bang away at Packer’s Last Resort a bit since last week. The latest iteration (which you can still download here) is better, but still has some problems:

Too much food! There’s still too much food, and not enough desperation. The problem here is two-fold. Not only does it tamp down the game’s tension (and thereby the fun) but it makes the game longer. A longer game with less fun is never a good time.

  • Solution: The next time I test it, the “Forage” card will just give 2 Food to the player, rather than 3 and giving an option to get Food for the whole group. (No one chooses that option anyway.)

Too little danger! Without an outside force adding pressure, the players are likely to dawdle. They’ll ignore the whole “traveling to Colorado before the deck runs out” aspect until they’ve got enough Food to safely make a go of it. While that makes for wise travel across the mountains in the 1800’s, it makes for a lesser (and slower!) game experience.

  • Solution: I’m adding a “Blizzard” counter to the game that “chases” the players down the Journey Track. Some of the Journey cards now have “blizzard” icons; when one of these cards comes up, the Blizzard counter moves. If the Blizzard catches up to the players, each of them takes a wound.

Not enough stress! Okay, there are probably enough Stress counters floating around in the game, but they don’t really do anything at the moment, so taking on more Stress doesn’t affect things one way or another.

  • Solution: I added a rule that says that if a player gets too much stress, that player snaps! He or she must immediately choose and attack another player (per the “Fight” card). I like how this plays, but because it suddenly makes Stress a good thing, the cards that mitigate Stress will need some serious tweaking.

I’ll kick around and solidify these changes this week. If I like what I see, I’ll post an updated version for you folks to kick around too. In the meantime: keep your friends close and your cutlery closer!

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A Flash of Spectral Violence

Posted on August 18, 2017 By

I love writing fiction. I love the world of Ghost Punchers. So I’ve smashed these two loves together like a pair of Siamese twins joined at the fist in order to present a bit of ghost-punching flash fiction. If you enjoy it, please share it!

Pyre

“I don’t know, Rachel. I mean, look at her.”

Doug kept his voice low as he nodded at the new girl Jackson had sent over. She was small—tiny, really—and young enough that she almost looked at home here in the abandoned high school. Large glasses, a pink backpack, and a studious ponytail completed her “serious student looking for extra credit” look. It didn’t help that she was flipping through a pile of water-logged textbooks and nodding silently at whatever she was reading.

Rachel shrugged. “Jackson vouched for her.”

“Jackson vouched for Andre, and look how that turned out.”

“True. That was… unfortunate. You want to call it off?”

Doug sighed and shook his head.

“Nah. We’ve got a job to do. If they’re going to start remodeling next week, we got to take care of that thing in the basement sooner rather than later.”

“Fine. I’ll talk to her. See where she’s coming from. She if she’s… like Andre.”

Rachel turned to the girl and waved.

“Danita? Could you come here a sec?”

“Yes, Ms. Boone.”

Rachel could feel Doug rolling his eyes.

“Please. Just call me Rachel.”

“Okay, Rachel. Are we ready to do this?”

The girl’s eyes shone behind her glasses. She practically vibrated with excitement.

“Yeah. In a minute. We were just wondering… How much experience have you had in the actual… you know… punching? I mean, Jackson says you’re an expert when it comes to like, lore and rituals and stuff, but… you know. The violence…?”

Danita smiled.

“This is my third mission. On my first, I helped take down a ghost clown. I was mostly back-up, but I got a few good licks in.” The girl pantomimed swinging punches.

“Last month, I fought a dog. I mean, okay, it was a ghost dog, and probably not really a dog at all, but a ghost manifested in the form of a dog. But I punched the heck out of it.”

“Was it a big dog?” asked Doug.

“Not really. Like a small husky, maybe? But it was fast. With sharp teeth.”

Rachel looked at Doug. Doug shrugged and nodded.

“Well, we’re glad you’ve had that experience. Because the ghost in the basement here is pretty tough. We’ve already tried to root it out once. It didn’t go well.”

“I got a concussion,” said Doug.

“So you need more muscle,” said Danita. “And that’s why Jackson brought me in.”

Rachel smiled. “Exactly.”

Danita looked around. She pointed at the back of the room, where a door and its frame were blackened from fire and smoke damage.

“Is that the basement down there?” she asked. “Can I take a look?”

Rachel said “Sure” before Doug could say “That’s a bad idea and we should all go together after we make a plan.” Danita strode to the door and threw it open. She stepped onto a landing and peered down into the darkness.

“I see it,” she said as Doug and Rachel joined her by the door. “It’s a big one. Did it die in the fire?”

“We think it started the fire,” said Doug. “It’s been here a long time.”

“Then it’s time for it to go,” said Danita as she skipped down the stairs.

Doug and Rachel looked at each other, their eyes wide.

“She’s not…?” they both asked.

But she was.

Danita hit the bottom of the stairs at a run. She charged the ghost (which sort of looked like a gorilla in a human suit with stop signs for hands) and leaped onto its back with a roar.

“You don’t belong here!” she shouted as she punched her fist through where the ghost’s spine would be, if it had had a spine. She grunted, then pulled something moist and wriggling out from deep within the beast’s ectoplasmic flesh.

The ghost screamed.

And then Danita really got to work.

Doug and Rachel stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Three times they started towards Danita and the ghost, but each time they stepped back, frozen by the waves of violence, viscera, and vibrantly obscene language washing over the scene before them.

When it was over, Danita straightened her ponytail and caught her breath. She smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry about all that. I just get carried away sometimes.”

“Uh huh,” said Doug.

“I’m calling Jackson,” said Rachel. “We’re keeping her.”

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