Back in post-apocalyptic land, a woman threw herself in front of the van. She wanted a lift into a town that wants help help with bandits. This took us all the way to a creepy, deserted theme park - Magic Island! We had to walk along a monorail line to get there.
So, we shot at people holding townspeople hostages. We free hostages (I think). Creepy theme park is creepy. There are blood-soaked buildings, a fountain with screaming cherubs that start spluttering blood, because OH HEY THIS IS A DEADLAND. Are there evil clowns? Of course there are. And then the monorail, a.k.a. the only way on or off the island, has collapsed. Permission to freak out?
“But we’re not the enemies!”
“Don’t worry, the betrayal will come any second now.”
“I’m merely acquiring dice.”
“But why?”
“Why not?”
“Ohh wait, I have skills!”
(no one has a Lockpickin’ skill)
Maggie: “I have 4 spare XP and a hair pin!” (gets skill, rolls 18 on 1d10) “My hair pin is amazing!”
“Just leave me alone with my dice piles, it’ll be fine!”
Player: “They’re probably not killing the hostages.”
GM: “Yeah, but you don’t know that.”
GM: “Now I’ve re-loaded the save …”
Player: “Uh-oh, he’s making faces!”
“I’m waiting for the angry man to not be angry anymore.”
GM: “You get to roll straight Cognition.”
Player: “Do I want to?”
GM: “You think you see a clown.”
Player: “OH, FUCK OFF!”
“Clowns are fun!”
“No!”
To be continued!
