Walsingham

Apologies for the delay. I had held off writing the last session partly because I've been too busy and partly because I wanted to belay it until I was ready for the next session. Which should be today. The end of our previous session had seen the dwarf PC - whose name I should really look up [ ed. 'Malaik']- standing on the doorstep of the dwarfhold in the rays of the dawn, in a mix of confusion and fury. He had spent the night praying in vigil to his god for direction as part of the ritual to become a full cleric. But Grungni had very pointedly not spoken. The dwarfhold being small, many persons knew of his failure and were giving him space. Although given his recent efforts against the goblins they were prepared to do so kindly. Gazing at the nearby woods, as they slowly blossomed into light from their tips to their roots in the rising sun, he was at a loss as to his next move. Should he stay, should he go? So it was perhaps fortunate that the beggar, dubbed 'Nevin' by the dwarf, emerged from his semi-catatonia and joined him. A short discussion ensued, some of which I missed because I was getting a round of beer in. They discussed mainly who the beggar was (he still didn't remember anything and didn't want to try), and the threat from the cavern and the possibility of more goblins and orcs emerging. The dwarf further explained that he had tried to communicate the urgency of this to his clansire but had done so in such a peremptory fashion that no one was willing to listen any further. After some prompting it was decided that they should go to the ruins of the human village and search for any clues, in addition to looting anything of use. Further plans could wait. And so, taking provisions for two days, plus some camping kit, they set off at a brisk pace through the woods. The dwarf again finding it too hot, and the human finding it a touch cool although this probably had as much to do with his not wearing any trousers (he had been given a dwarf muumuu affair to wear as a long belted tunic). Arriving at the village my plan was more or less upset by the dice yet again. My two blundering players got within earshot and noticed the oblivious party already in the ruins. This party, they saw consisted of a two men at arms on foot, sharing a joke with a more impressive man on horseback. One foot soldier carried a 'very large stick', while the other was more conventionally armed with a sword and buckler. The man on the horse was too distant to closely observe, but was obviously senior. The two players observed all this from the relative safety of some woods, beneath a convenient shrub. But so long did they remain there waffling that it was only with some alarm that they noticed that although the other soldiers were still talking, the horseman was staring pointedly directly at their portion of wood, and was at the precise moment of spurring hsi horse to a charge. A fact which took his own men by surprise, but which they soon followed, another horseman coming round a house on their left. The dwarf elected to hide behind a tree. However, Nevin, on hearing the pounding of the hooves entered fugue of blurred vision and sweating with fear, lowered his goblin spear at the kneeling position. He realised he knew at some instinctive level that this way the way to receive cavalry. A fact which did not elude their aggressor who deftly reined in his horse short and leapt from the saddle, drawing a a long cavalry pistol. A mechanism of rarity and (against chainmail) devastating power. There then ensued a prolonged episode of trying to understand one another which would be tedious to relate. The pair were unwilling to make a move aggressively and were soon very effectively surrounded by four other soldiers, one on horseback, two with large matchlock harqebuses; devices onec again of rare provenance. The chief topic beyond the obvious being the whereabout s of a certain blonde haired girl. The one who you will recal was killed, eaten then burned by goblins. During this period the dwarf proceeded, not unexpectedly to annoy everybody through a combination of aggression and bad manners. A process leading to his being seized and bound from neck to waist in rope. The dice dealt me a surprise however with Nevin and the horseman. Nevin managed to display obvious honesty, and courage in his answers. A fact which the mysterious and not entirely pleasant man recognised, and decided to like. The horseman in turn I was obliged to describe in dynamic, if not exactly friendly fashion, as a man of resolution and immense nervous energy. This threw me a bit of a loop because it meant that when they asked to be let go so they coudl go back to the dwarfhold together and allow the human to interview the villagers to corroborate their story I couldn't see him disagreeing. Fortunately, however, I finally realised the obvious flaw in this reasoning and the horseman smilingly pointed out this would place him and his men in the midst of a large dwarf fortress. A position not conducive to retaining possession of this annoying dwarf whose answers had not being very convincing, and for whom Nevin could hardly vouchsafe honestly; since Nevin had only known him for a few hours in total. For this reason, and since it fitted his instructions better, the horseman (I'll go look up his name now - Joaquin D'Almeida) elected to take them with him to a safer locale. . This unfortunately turned out rather unhappily to absorb much of the remainder of the session. Mainly because my plans for the relevant bit of the campaign fit a much larger city called Magritta on the South Coast, artehr than Bilbali which was established as being nearby. In itself such a journey might ordinarily be glossed over but of course my players had to be given opportunities to learn about their captors and to escape. Something which would have been impossible if they'd both been tied, but only Malaik the dwarf actually was! Fortunately for my sanity, Nevin the beggar decided that going to Magritta was as good a notion as any. Especially since objecting might cost him his life and good treatment. While Malaik remained bound from nose to waist until they made it across the mountains and onto river transport. A journey of several days. The only further point of interest, beside the descriptions of scrubby hillside, dusty mountain villages of whitewashed stone, and flearidden caravanserai, was a 'chance' encounter high in the mountains. While the guards relaxed on some wooden benches with wine and rabbit, a man approached Nevin. He had an enormous barrel chest, bandy legs, and wore an outlandish tunic of gold slashed in purple and an immense floppy hat. He introduced himself by demanding Nevin hold out his hand. A hand which duly trembled, and which was first matched by then grasped in the stranger's sinewy paw. Indeed the stranger explained in Old Worlder that he was himself an artillerist who had contracted the shakes in battle and had taken himself up into the mountains to rest his nerves. Nevin's tale in turn interested the man, and before the group moved on the pair were able to share a flask of wine, bread and oil and salt, and Nevin learned he had once spoken the secret battle language of the Empire; although he was out of practice. To cut the tale slightly short, it all ended somewhat weakly with the party decaming from their boat within sight of Magritta, alighting on prepared horses and a wagon, then heading towards the walls. Some XP was awarded for roleplaying, but insufficient purchase any upgrades.

It depends how drunk you are.

Hmm... A nation with a tiny appendix of an armed force, supplemented by a bunch of maudlin psychopaths, against a nation almost entirely focussed on war since its inception? Could be fun to watch. For about ten minutes. Palestine vs Ireland would be a better match up. Oooh. You're dead right there. That would be interesting.

I had an uncle once who used too many cliches. He got ague, but was run over by an ox cart.

Well, Rostere has a point in dragging us back to pure geopolitics. Pakistan is a country with many inherent weaknesses. It is geographically and culturally a mess, with a naturally insecure eastern border with a huge and angry neighbour on it. This absorbs every possible attention and as a consequence I think Pakistan plays the game to keep Afghan in a state of flux. Since classically this would have effectively neutralised that border for teh Russians or Persians who might otherwise seek to move in. Unfortunately this thinking is a bit 19th Century. The advent of terrorism means that the Afghans themselves can pose a strategic threat to Pakistan by applying political violence as they are.

Keeps getting to me first thing in the morning when I should be working.

Point. Nonetheless I have to agree with Monte in as much as I think the England team have perhaps too much of a good thing money wise. In fact I've been thinking for some time now that you can ALWAYS have too much of a good thing. It destabilizes efforts to control the system in question. In this case the money and the lifestyle is a distraction. On the other hand they earn their bosses squillions more so why shouldn't they get a share? Not that this changes my impression of the useless hoofers. On teh other hand I thoght Algeria played greatly to their own credit. Well done.

I'm not spotting a single theme here. Can anyone else?

Honesty is good, but I think you underestimate him. I used to get royally annoyed by him, as anyone will tell you, but over time I thinkI understood that he was a lot more complex than this medium could really get a handle on. I think it's one of the reasons he used to shift alts all the time. Like a velociraptor shifting uncomfortably on a child's tricycle. Not that there's much point to you changing your mind. I just thought I should report his cause aright to those who would remember him.

Inventory list is here http://forums.obsidian.net/index.php?showtopic=54890 I suggest you start by buying one chainmail shirt (red).

Purkake: the way to fidn the last guy is autocannon^fire + autocannon^ high explosive. Just hammer away like billyo and the little bastards will either die, pass out, or run away.

But Gorth, metagaming simply doesn't work all the time. I can't speak for several of the games you mention, but in ones like Kotor II and Dragon Age you are best off simply following a roleplaying approach. Since you can head off down approaches where you are scoring small influence points, but walling yourself into a shallow and facile relationship. Taking hits can allwo you to reshape the companion's perspective on certain issues. Thus to my way of thinking the obvious points system royally shafts metagamers and should be applauded for doing so.

Woop woop woop woop. The Soviet Union never had sufficient means to exert their will by pure force of arms? That's supposed to be wittily ironic?

Note to self: do not again forget that fully cleaning of the teeth and gums is inadvisable directly after eating. This is particularly true when you have just eaten hot chilli. Ow. Ow. Ow.

Hmm... A nation with a tiny appendix of an armed force, supplemented by a bunch of maudlin psychopaths, against a nation almost entirely focussed on war since its inception? Could be fun to watch. For about ten minutes.

You got any inside gen for us on Serbia, Boo?

It's taken me three days to see this one. Not funny. And I don't mean in a finger wagging 'you are not allowed to chuckle at this' kinda way. Just plain not funny. Like a joke that had to be explained to you, after which you go 'ohh', not *grin*. Yeah. I'm actually quite proud it took me that long to see it.

Sometimes you need a square on, no frills punch to the sentiment glands. Well, I do, anyway. The other one which gets me is . I heard it at a friend's house, looking out over broad expanses of English rainy field. I can't quite describe what gets me, beside the fact that I absolutely always coast to a halt when I listen to it. There's something vehemently peaceful about it.

Well, this is surely the dilemma. If we ask for rich complex stories with genuine choice with genuine consequences we can hardly burst into tears when we get it. Which is arguably the root of all his criticisms.

+10

Condensing things slightly ebcause otherwise no-one will read what we're saying: 1. If you think the Raj or anywhere else we conquered (with the exception of the poor bloody hottentots and bushmen) were peaceful harmonious peoples then I think that says everything it needs to about your historical scholarship. 2. Killing an animal for its meat rather than keeping it for its milk and offspring - which is what will happen if you strip the so-called 'assets' of BP and collapse it - says much about your grasp of basic economics. 3. This has nothing to do with BP and everything to do with your opposition to corporations in general. As you yourself confess.

Without really thinking I surfed to this rendition of this morning. I don't know exactly what it was, but it suddenly brought it all home for me. My grandmother loved it when she was alive because my grandfather loved it (he was Irish). My mum loved it because my grandmother loved it. My uncle too, though he's not dead just living thousands of miles away. My brother likes it though he's not dead just loopy. I guess my whole family has atomised these last few years like a wayward rebel planet with no weapons. Anyway, the point is it set me blubbing when I've been pretty stiff-upper-lipped trhough almost everything. And I wondered if everyone has a tune like that, and ifw e share tunes or if the tunes have similarities despite differences in culture and ordinary taste.

That's only because we delete all the horse porn before you see them. Imposible. Once you've seen horse porn it stays seen.

Great news to hear he's back home and doing well-ish. I meant to ask last night but got distracted by the need to be pompous.