Remote players may try multiple templates before picking one in lower gears:
Gears 1-2: Try up three, pick one.
Gears 3-4: Try up to two, pick one.
Gears 5-6: No trying, pick one (choose it, use it).
In-person players use the choose it/use it rule at all times.
Driver (Shooting Phase)
During the shooting phase, the driver may fire any fixed-arc weapon OR fire a pistol. The arc of the latter is usually limited to a 90˚ left and front arc from the driver’s position (in a left-hand drive vehicle) or a 180˚ left, right, and front arc (in a centre-line drive vehicle).
Motorcycle drivers may fire in a 360˚ arc and may also use grenades or gas grenades.
Driver and Crew
In games where driver and crew survival is important, the following rules will apply.
The base number to survive is half the vehicle’s gear at the time it was destroyed, rounded down. Add 1 for every two excess hits it received (in excess of hull value). Add one if the vehicle flipped, unless it has a roll cage. Add two if the vehicle exploded.
The Green Monster was in Gear 4 when it was destroyed. It received 2 excess hits. It rolled over, but did not explode. Survival number = 2 + 1 + 1 + 0 = 4. The survival number can never exceed 6.
Slicer was in Gear 6 when it was destroyed. It did not receive excess hits, but it did roll over and explode. Survival number = 3 + 0 + 1 + 2 = 6.
Roll once for the driver, and once for the remainder of the crew.
If they exceed the survival number, they are fine. Place a marker within a short template of the wreck. They will use the long template to move.
If they equal the survival number, they are wounded. They will use the medium template to move.
If the roll below the survival number, they are killed.
Drivers and crew only move at the end of the turn, after all gears have been completed. They may be targeted, with hit killing one. they
Once their vehicle has been destroyed they may not use weapons.
SE03 EP01 Everyone searches for belated birthday presents for Sally. Sally drives a police car. Kiera and Ben find a torpedo.
SE03 EP02 There’s a new survivor in town. Stevie is trapped in a liquor store, but escapes. Team Bravo reaches a nautically-themed gift shop.
SE03 EP03 Tom Mouat explores a barricaded apartment building—only to be killed by The Mysterious Sniper. Allison Nightgale tries to start a digger, but succumbs to an infected bite.
SE03 EP04 Team Bravo avenge Tom’s death. The Seanirator eliminates The Mysterious Sniper. The group makes a tiny new friend.
SE03 EP05 Royal Special Edition: Her Majesty summons her squabbling family to tea—but insists they first clear the grounds of the undead. James the Royal Butler finishes off two zombified members of the Metropolitan Police. Carl, Prince of Waiting, admires the local architecture and wildlife despite the urging of The Duchess to hurry things up. When Morgana Merkel, wife of Prince Harold, takes a “accidentally-on-purpose” swing at Prince Carl with a katana, she is savaged by a pack of Corgis. Prince Harold goes off in a huff. Prince Willard and Katrina Betweeton arrive hand-in-hand, fighting off zombies to save James. Tea is served.
SE03 EP06 Team Alpha helps out a wandering epidemiologist from Survivors without Borders.
SE03 EP07 Team Bravo rallys together to lend Stevie a hand.
SE03 EP08 Accidentally separated from the others, a small group of survivors try to find their way back to the main group—only to encounter one damned/dammed thing after another.
SE03 EP09 Team Bravo makes a new and deadly Icelandic friend, but never reaches an ammonium nitrate factory.
SE03 EP10 Team Alpha reaches Main Building. What they discover there shocks them.
SE03 EP 11 Team Bravo goes to the dogs.
SE03 E12 The survivors reach Chair Mountain, and try to find a way up. They leave behind an explosive surprise.
SE03 EP13: Júni faces her destiny.
SE03 EP14: Team Alpha finds themselves caught up in a dangerous religious schism. Ben has a close call. Someone doesn’t make it.
SE03 EP15: Pursued by the monk of Chair Mountain, Team Bravo makes a last stand. What Tom does next surprises everyone.
E03 EP16: Monkey and Tim have a close call. Ben undertakes a grave task.
E03 EP17: Team Bravo investigates a scientific conference. There they find a tragic reunion—and evidence of a breakthrough that might save humanity.
E03 EP18 (season finale): The survivors steal Jeff Bezos’ spaceship from the Sauron Industries launch facility in Mordor, California. Code Monkey brings the world new hope by broadcasting the news of a scientific breakthrough.
Fynius was born to a simple and impoverished family of goat herders. Determined to see the world, at the age of 14 he left home and signed as a young apprentice sailor, first aboard the longboat Skúfr (Skua) and then on several others.
While he enjoyed travelling to new lands, Fynius never really fitted in. Norjd captains were inclined to mix trading with raiding, and Fynius soon learned to handle spear and shield and axe, but he found no joy in death and pillage. Moreover, the seafarer’s life took an increasing toll. He lost an eye to an arrow. His left hand was mangled in an accident at sea. His right foot was injured when he and several shipmates were set upon by Sax brigands one night in a Baltic port. It later had to be amputated.
All of this left Fynius increasingly unable to perform a crewman’s tasks, whether clambering up a mast or making his away across a heaving deck in a heavy storm. Some captains were even reluctant to have him on board, fearing that his numerous injuries indicated that he was being punished by the Gods. “Fynius Albatrossen”” they called him behind his back—and, sometimes, to his face. Only the midget Arnuld was his friend.
He felt useless and broken, and so decided to seek his way to Valhalla. The Stormskum clan (from which he was now in any case long estranged), however, lacked even a traditional ättestupa. He thus decided instead to book working passage to the distant land of New Caledonia, explore its mysteries, and there find the end of his days.
The Shipwreck
I ponder the many ways in which death now evades me: claws and swords turned aside as if by an unseen hand, grievous wounds healing in days, the endurance and vigour of my otherwise my broken body.
The Gods—whose existence and power I do not doubt—may well have purpose for me. Is it some noble quest? Or is it to toy with me longer, before extinguishing me like the ember of an abandoned campfire?
I do not know. For this is the thing about the Gods: no mortal soul knows their minds, and those that claim they do often prove madmen or charlatans.
Departure
Fynius stood on the longboat as it pulled away out to see, looking back at the skraeling woman he left on the beach with his sax. She would die, likely sooner than later. We all die, after all. But at least she would now have some choice in the matter, choosing her own fate.
Fynius was no philosopher, but the concept of fate troubled him deeply. Was one’s fate predetermined, and if so by whom? The gods? The universe? Did the gods have fates? They never seemed to in the stories. Perhaps this was why Frigg would say nothing of the future, for there is no future to tell. We forge it day by day.
Was it inevitable that he would lose a foot, a hand, and eye? Or had it been decided for him, perhaps as some sort of game to amuse the Aesir? Was there any point living, if one’s story was already written? If it was, one might as well skip to the end. Unless there was no end.
He looked around the longboat with a sense of unease. Raiders. Many Njord were raiders, and he had been among them. He had killed, and looted, and pillaged, and others had sought to kill him. But he was uncomfortable choosing or ending the “fate” of others, much as he disliked the idea of others determining him. He was no romantic, but if life had value, it was earned through actions and choices. He should have stayed on that island to free that woman, but he had chosen not to. He was not happy about it, but it was done. At least she had a choice to make too.
His thought back to the spirits upon the bridge. He had always hated riddles—he didn’t have the patience for them. Riddles from supernatural creatures were far worse. Once again, it stank of being toyed with. He would have happily sat on a rock and waited for his friends to come back with, refused to play their game, but suspected his friends might need his spear. But if their fates were already set, did it matter? He was no closer to answers.
Runes. Symbols. More tricks. It was like training a ferret. Why should he play at these games?
Fynius’ willingness to face danger might seem like bravery to some, but it wasn’t. It was his effort, however poorly he understood it, to test the bounds of his “fate.” No matter what risks he took, though, his thread remained unbroken. Was that his fate? Or was he fateless, drifting in the world with no home or destination?
The island—if it had indeed been an island they were on—faded in the distance. He didn’t care. He had no curiosity about the henge, nor the ancient chamber, nor the other wondrous things they had seen. The issue of fate consumed him, tortured him, teased him. There was an irony—to be tortured both by thoughts that all was fated, and the thought that nothing was.
Well, who knew? Perhaps tomorrow he would die.
Or not.
Strange New Things
This New World is indeed a strange place.
Beorn the shape-shifter.
Standing stones older than the forests, guarded by warriors of long ago.
Spirits with riddles. Riddles with spirits.
Wolf-creatures that are neither Úlfhednar nor Vagr, nor artifacts of magic as in the tales of Sigmund and Sinfjotli—but, instead, seemingly, the actual offspring of Skoll. That was concerning.
Fynius had never believed most of the legends. There were too many, and too implausible, and he had long ago given up trying to discern the motives of the Æsir, Vanir, and Jötnar. These things were not knowable, other that these creatures disposed of the fates of men as casually as one might consume a pot of picked herring. He was tired of it all.
The fight with the wolf-creature had been perhaps the hardest he had faced, and yet he emerged from it with barely a scratch. No matter how eagerly he embraced the thought of death, it eluded him! What if it never came? What if he were forever fated to bear this broken body and never pass the gates of Valhalla?
He envied Ulfhild. She would die easily and gloriously one day, savagely torn apart by tooth and claw, or impaled on a bloody spear, or cut deeply while frothing in a berserker rage! Such an end seemingly eluded Fynius, no matter how often he invited it.
Still, he resolved to mention his concerns to Gregori.
His unsociable manner cloaked the depth of his knowledge, and he seemed one who revelled in riddles and clues and divinities and mythic tales. Of all of them, Gregori sought not only places to hide, but that which is hidden. If anyone might know something, it would be him, surely?
They had met those who hunt the moon, after all. Just in case the stories be true, they might be wise to keep an eye for those who chase the sun. Ragnarök? It would be ironic indeed if that is how they all perished.
Fynius allowed himself a smile. The encounter with the Hulder had been a much more pleasant experience. She had been kind. Perhaps with his grotesque deformities she had mistaken him for a Huldrekall? At least she had not asked him to dance!
The Carving
Fynius cursed as once more the piece of wood slipped from his grasp. He was never very good at this, but it used to be much easier when he had two good hands and two good eyes. Still, he was in uncharacteristically good mood tonight and determined to finish before his time on watch ended and he had to wake one of the others.
He bent down, picked it up the carving from the ground, and returned to work with his seax.
Back on the bridge, on the island, he had somehow known Urðr, Verðandi, and Skuld almost at once. More to the point, they had known him—or, rather, they had known of him precisely because they couldnot know him. Fynius was without thread, recognizable at once only by the gap in the tapestry. Perhaps that is why they let him pass. Certainly, he was damned if he was going to play their games.
And so it had been with Gestumblindi. Fynius had known it was Váfuðr. Why else would the ravens be displayed so, if not for Hrafnaguð? Gizurr had been bested at his own game. He had deceived Ginnarr without deceit. Fjölnir had known of Ulfhild’s feral soul and of the mysteries of Rev-Ann, could not possibly know Fynius’ destiny because that was unwoven. No wonder he had been so interested in what the Norns had made of them.
There, the carving was finished! It wasn’t very good—it barely resembled a fish. It was ugly, though. Ah well, surely Sviðurr would know what it was. And if he didn’t—well, that thought appealed to Fynius too. He chuckled quietly. He hadn’t done that in a very long time.
Quietly he crept to where Rev-Ann slept and removed the box from her possessions. Arnuld would be proud! The midget had been his only friend, the only one who had not mocked him for his injuries. “Dødløs” he had always called Fynius, for reasons that only now had become clear. Had he known then? Or simply a lucky guess?
Fynius opened the box, slipped in the carving, and returned it to its place. It wasn’t an offering, really. More of a memento of his encounter with Fjölnir. And, perhaps, a request that whatever darkness had been cast upon this sleeping girl be lifted.
His task completed, Fynius returned to place on watch. Should he tell Gregori what had happened, what had truly happened tonight? Perhaps not. Although their interactions had often been unfriendly, neither was an unkind man. Perhaps Gregori would find Rúnatýr in his own way. If death was inevitable—as it is—life is much too short for regrets.
The rest of night was uneventful. Apart from the raven, watching.
Always watching.
Frosker og skjebne
“Perhaps this was it?” Fynius thought as the creature pulled him under the water. Perhaps, far beneath Yggdrasil, his thread had been found and woven into the great tapestry. This giant frosk was certainly fearsome, almost crushing Sigyn in a single snap of its toothy maw. Even if one were not devoured as prey, surely no man could breathe water! At last, his end would come. Ran and her daughters would have him.
Fynius was only dimly aware of the shouting on the riverbank from his friends. There was a terrific splash somewhere beside him—but he could not know it was Ulfhild, who had thrown herself at the beast in a berserker rage but missed her quarry.
Yes, perhaps this was it. Death at last. Would he be taken to Valhalla to join the ranks of the einherjar?
When they fought the wolves, not one had bitten him.
When they had fought the spiders, he had been untouched—yet Rev-Ann, back at the hut, had been knocked unconscious by an unseen blow to the head.
When they had fought the giant creature of stone, he had again emerged unscathed—unlike his companions, pummelled and battered, or bleeding from rocky shards.
When they had come upon the warband, Ullr’s bow and Sigyn’s knowledge of the woods had allowed them to lose their pursuers, once more denying him death. Fynius regretted not charging into the fray, rescuing the skraeling—no one should meet their end burned alive—but it was a fool’s errand, and he was bound by Wotan’s Oath to investigate and report.
He chuckled as the water swirled around him. Years upon the sea, only to drown in this bekk! The Norn, at least, were better at irony than they were at riddles.
Then his vision cleared. To his amazement, the water swirled around him and subsided, for reasons he could not yet understand. Faen! What was this? The creature looked just as surprised. Fynius wrestled its sticky tongue from him and strode back to the muddy riverbank, muttering angrily. The melee continued a minute or two more, as the frog leapt once more into the fray to swallow Sigyn and then attack Gregori. But it did not last long.
“Finius! I thought you were a goner!” Sigyn remarked to him as he brushed the mud from his clothing. She looked rather worse for wear, covered in blood and bruises and a not inconsiderable amount of spytte. “And you…. you don’t have a scratch on you.”
It was true. Not a single scratch.
Dammit.
Skraelings
The days they had spent in the ancient temple and caves had brought Fynius near to Valhalla many times, whether from frog-creatures or devious traps or even slippery rocks. Much of it was all just a blur, but at the end of it he had felt a sense of accomplishment—not because of the dangers they had faced, nor the deeds they had done, nor even the ancient temple they had discovered, but because of the simple and uncomplicated gratitude of the villagers when they had returned bearing the three runes the skraeling had sought. There is no better feeling than an obligation fulfilled.
This is why he had left the life of raiding and plunder that called so many of his kin to the sea. There was nothing heroic in preying on the weak and defenceless. There was no honour in a life motivated by greed.
It was regret, therefore, that he left the village of the Frog. They had made a vow to Yöden Jodison that they would return to Heilhofn with whatever information they might discover, and however much Fynius distrusted the jarl that is what they must do. Given the size of the war party and all they had been told by the skraeling, the settlement itself might be in danger.
It was shortly before the journey southwards that Ulfhild had told them of her condition—or, rather, told Fynius, for it seemed some of his companions already knew. He wasn’t put out by this. He wasn’t the talkative sort, and he hardly projected empathy or compassion with his gruff words and constant references to death. He was concerned, however, by the mystery of it all. It bore all the hallmarks of the gods once more playing with men (or women), of supernatural forces treating mortals as toys. That was something that had never sat well with him.
Despite the urgency of their travel back to Heilhofn, they had—for whatever reason, for it was still unclear to Fynius why they had done this—agreed to hunt for a certain brown deer at the request of a blue-hatted tomtenisse. This had taken them through a village, or quarry, or whatever it might have been, inhabited by curious tiny creatures, much like the kabouters of the folktales. Fynius had no quarrel with these beings and had offered some silver in payment of their transit. Rev-Ann had thrown them a necklace too, that she had found in some earlier place.
The necklace, however, was cursed. Fynius still remembers the anguished cries of their hersir as he put it on, only to be strangled by its deadly magical contraction. They had come in peace! They had not meant for this to happen!
There was no chance to explain (even had they known the creature’s language), for immediately they were attacked with hail of studsande stenar. Fynius had done his best to draw the attacks away from his friends, rushing at their attackers with sword and shield. Ultimately their assailants were driven off.
As was her habit, Rev-Ann had been grieviously hurt. She recovered under Gregori’s care, then uttered those faithful words.
“I thought it might be cursed…”
The necklace? She had thrown these creatures a gift, knowing it might bring them harm?!?
“..I mean, I didn’t think it would KILL one,” she added.
The revelation shocked Fynius to his core. They were in the wrong! They were murderers! How many had died at his blade? Three? Four? HE was a murderer!
For all the death he had seen, and inflicted, since arriving in New Caledonia, it was the first that weighed heavily on his conscience. They owed these creatures a weregild, something of great value. His sword? It clearly was ancient, and resided in it mystic powers. But they looked not as if they could even wield it, given their stature. What did they value? What would they recognize as recompense for Rev-Ann’s act of deadly betrayal?
He did not know. But as they left his place of death, he slipped into his pocket one of their strange stones, to remind him of this obligation. And as he did, the wolf-headed torque around his wrist glowed warmly a moment, before it returned to iron.
The vow had been made.
Death
Fynius was dead. And Gregori had killed him.
He did not blame the old man—he had simply been playing around with some glowing crystals he had found. He was not, Fynius had long ago concluded, very good at his craft. Whatever he had done, there had been a clap of thunder, a flash of lightning, and they had found themselves in this place, a strange placve, with purple skies and many moons above.
Gregori and Rev-Ann claimed they were from the future, and this was some other world. Clearly they were both mad. It was the afterlife! It wasn’t the hallowed hals of Valhalla, although the rivers here ran thick with mead. Glaðsheimr, perhaps? Somewhere else in Asgard?
The events of the past weeks that had brought them to this place were a blur. They had paid blood-gilt to the creatures Rev-Ann had slaughtered. Rev-Ann herself had died, been brought back by Gregri as a tortured soul of the undead, been killed again. They had returned to Heilhofn, whereupon Eørl Yöden had sent them out again with his underling Sven. They were attacked by Groendod and Jotun, and in that fight Sven had died (aided, perhaps, by Fynius pushing him off a cliff, and Ulfhild’s swift sword and remarkable ability to become something even more feral). Rev-Ann had returned as a Valkeyrie. It said something of the strange adventures in this strange and magical land that Ulfhild’s shape-shifting and Rev-Anns’s return didn’t seem out of place at all.
They had continued to the M’iq M’aqi village, found it razed, discovered a small child, befriended some Jotun, and rescued Old Father, Old Mother, and a few M’iq M’aqi villagers from the hands of slavers. They had been on their way back to Heilhofn when Gregori had brought them to this strange new place.
Where were they? Fynius did not know. He looked up at the many moons above. He did not care, even if it was Helheim itself. It was the final destination. Finally he was here—although a little disappointed he was still lame.
The SARS-CoV-2 pandemic has made in-person gaming impossible,. It also led to the cancellation of CanGames 2020 and other gaming conventions. However, that hasn’t stopped the Ivory Goat Gaming group!
Here’s an update of (virtual) games I have played (or to be played) since the the global pandemic was announced:
March 28: Viralpaloza SE01 EP01 (zombie apocalypse)
March 28: Viralpaloza SE01 EP02 (zombie apocalypse)
April 4: Viralpaloza SE01 EP03 (zombie apocalypse)
April 4: Viralpaloza SE01 EP04 (zombie apocalypse)
April 12: Viralpaloza SE01 EP05 (zombie apocalypse)
April 12: Viralpaloza SE01 EP06 (zombie apocalypse)
April 18: Viralpaloza SE01 EP07 (zombie apocalypse)
April 19: Viralpaloza SE01 EP08 (zombie apocalypse)
April 25: Viralpaloza SE01 EP09 (zombie apocalypse)
April 26: Viralpaloza SE01 EP10 (zombie apocalypse)
May 2: Viralpaloza SE01 EP11 (zombie apocalypse)
May 3: Viralpaloza SE01 EP12 (zombie apocalypse)
May 9: Viralpaloza SE01 EP13 (zombie apocalypse)
May 9: Viralpaloza SE01 EP14 (zombie apocalypse)
May 16: Viralpaloza SE01 EP15 (zombie apocalypse)
May 17: Viralpaloza SE01 EP16 (zombie apocalypse)
May 24: Viralpaloza SE01 EP17 (zombie apocalypse)
May 24: Viralpaloza SE01 EP18 (zombie apocalypse)
May 25: Ancients (Mongols vs Chinese)
May 30: Viralpaloza SE01 EP19 (zombie apocalypse)
May 30: Viralpaloza SE01 EP20 (zombie apocalypse)
June 5: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
June 6: Ancients (Crusaders vs Byzantines)
June 13: Viralpaloza SE01 EP21(zombie apocalypse)
June 13: Viralpaloza SE01 EP22 (zombie apocalypse)
June 19: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
June 21: Estonia 1 (modern microarmour)
June 27: Viralpaoza SE01 EP23 (zombie apocalypse)
June 27 Viralpaloza SE01 EP24 (zombie apocalypse)
July 5: Estonia 2 (modern microarmour)
July 9: Ancients (Seleucids)
July 11 Viralpaloza SE01 EP25 (zombie apocalypse)
July 11 Viralpaloza SE01 EP26 (zombie apocalypse)
July 17: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
July 25 Viralpaloza SE01 EP27 (zombie apocalypse)
July 25 Viralpaloza SE01 EP28 (zombie apocalypse)
August 2: Estonia 3 (modern microarmour)
August 4: Ancients (Alexander vs Constantine)
August 7: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
August 8 Viralpaloza SE01 EP29 (zombie apocalypse)
August 8: Viralpaloza SE01 EP30 (zombie apocalypse)
August 16: Estonia 4 (modern microarmour)
August 22: Viralpaloza SE01 EP31 (zombie apocalypse)
August 22: Viralpaloza SE01 EP32 (zombie apocalypse)
September 4: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
October 2: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
October 10: Viralpaloza SE02 EP01 (zombie apocalypse)
October 10: Viralpaloza SE02 EP02 (zombie apocalypse)
October 16: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
October 30: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
November 20: Lost Mine of Phandelver (D&D)
December 4: Lost Mine of Phandelver (D&D)
December 5: Viralpaloza SE02 EP03 Christmas Special (zombie apocalypse)
December 5: Viralpaloza SE02 EP04 Christmas Special (zombie apocalypse)
December 5: Viralpaloza SE02 EP05 CLWG Christmas Special (zombie apocalypse)
December 11: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
December 21: Lost Mine of Phandelver (D&D)
December 28: Lost Mine of Phandelver (D&D)
January 9: Viralpaloza SE02 EP06 Back to School Special (zombie apocalypse)
January 9: Viralpaloza SE02 EP07 Back to School Special (zombie apocalypse)
April 17: Viralpaloza SE03 EP01
April 17: Viralpaloza SE03 EP02
April 30: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
May 1: Viralpaloza SE03 EP03
May 1: Viralpaloza SE03 EP04
May 2: Viralpaloza SE03 EP05 CLWG Tea Time at the Palace Special
May 14: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
May 15: Viralpaloza SE03 EP06
May 15: Viralpaloza SE03 EP07
May 19: Undocumented
May 28: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
May 29: Viralpaloza SE03 EP09
May 29: Viralpaloza SE03 EP10
June 11: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
June 12: Viralpaloza SE03 EP10
June 12: Viralpaloza SE03 EP11
June 17: War of the Crown
June 26: Viralpaloza SE03 EP12
June 26: Viralpaloza SE03 EP13
July 9: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
July 10: Viralpaloza SE03 EP14
July 10: Viralpaloza SE03 EP15
July 15: Influence operations (NATO)
July 22: Influence operations (NATO)
July 23: The Village
July 24: Viralpaloza SE03 EP16
July 24: Viralpaloza SE03 EP17
July 29: Influence operations (NATO)
August 6: Ravens (Genesys Viking RPG)
August 21: Viralpaloza SE03 EP18 (season finale)
August 28: Feeding Frenzy
September 5: The Village
September 15: The Village
October 9: Feeding Frenzy
October 14-22: Influence operations (NATO)
October 24: Feeding Frenzy
November 21: Feeding Frenzy
December 11: Viralpaloza 2021 Christmas Special
January 9: Virtual Viralpaloza
January 13: Nijmegen Assault (mini megagame)
May 14: Viralpaloza SE04 EP01
May 14: Viralpaloza SE04 EP02
May 31: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
June 4: Viralpaloza SE04 EP03
June 4: Viralpaloza SE04 EP04
June 14: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
June 21: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
June 26: The Battle of Bogsatograd
June 28: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
July 26: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
August 2: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
August 16: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
August 23: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
August 28: Gaslands Refuelled
September 6: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
October 18: AFTERSHOCK
October 19: We Are Coming, Nineveh!
November 1: A Time to Harvest (Call of Cthulhu RPG)
This past weekend I attended the CanGames gaming convention in Ottawa, as I do each year. I enjoyed it a great deal (as I always do), although overall attendance seemed to be down a bit. I also have fewer pictures than usual, largely due to forgetfulness.
On Saturday I did put on two zombie apocalypse games based on the Horror at Moose Cove scenario I first tried out at home last year. As usual, both games were fully booked.
Moose Cove (pic credit: CanGames)
In the first game, a group of scientists and children from the Moose Cove Research Facility were attempting to make their way down to the harbour, where they hoped to escape the town on board a small fishing boat, the Stuttering Cormorant. The children (Claire, Mary, Mike, Jessa, Lucy) could secretly choose whether they were innocent waifs, research subjects in government experiments, or juvenile psychopaths. Similarly, the scientists (team leader Dr. Patricia Paradigm, along with Dr. Myles Boffin and Prof. Horatio Theorem) could make a similar choice. While the latter assumed that the children were innocent—and hence gained points by escorting them to safety—the children decided they were research subjects (one of who had mutant psychic powers). They had no interest in seeing any of the scientists leaving town alive.
As for Captain McBarnacle and his crew (First Mate Fergus O’Flotsam and Second Mate Seamus C. Shanty), they were hard-hearted killers rather than kindly humanitarians, killing zombies for sport and anxious to extract maximum resources from any passengers they took on. Add a further twist was Crazy Rick, the town eccentric, who spent the game wandering around Moose Cove investigating various conspiracy theories-as well as asking his former crush Patricia for a post-apocalyptic dance.
Game 1 underway. Pic credit: @Sout_Tweet
The crew of the Stuttering Cormorant have docked and and are setting forth along the pier. They would soon turn back and move their boat to a safer mooring.
Dr. Boffin and Prof. Theorem ponder their next move.
The Stuttering Cormorant re-docks at the other end of the harbour…
…and not a moment too soon, as a zombified lighthouse keeper emerges! He would spend much of his time peering out to sea, however.
Claire leads the children through the streets.
With Prof. Theorem now zombie-chow, the surviving scientists seek safety.
A zombie clown prowls the docks.
Drs. Paradigm and Boffin hide in a ransacked store as zombies shuffle outside.
The children and crew dash for the boat as Captain McBarnacle picks off floating zombies from the roof of the wheelhouse.
The Stuttering Cormorant heads to sea, leaving the scientists behind. Little do the crew know that the children have fearsome psychic powers…
In the end, the children all made it to the boat, Prof. Theorem was devoured by zombies, while Dr. Paradigm and Dr. Boffin found themselves in a bar besieged by a zombie lounge singer and a mob of the shambling undead. When Captain McBarnacle threatened the children, however, Lucy unleashed her bizarre mental powers–forcing him to hand over his rifle. Who knows whether any of the crew would survive…
The brave survivors.
In the second game, the Stuttering Cormorant returned. This time, however, it had been commandeered by Vladimir Putin and an elite team of Russian Spetsnaz (special forces) on a mission to infiltrate the Moose Cove facility. Elsewhere in town were the remnants of the Moose Cove Trawlers hockey team (defenceman J.K. Burly and goalie Carey Netts), whose team minibus had broken down; cosplayer Tricia Kshatriya, who—dressed as a pistol-packing Snow White—was trying to attend the annual MooseCon genre convention; the editor of the Moose Cove Gazette, Polly Pulitzer, and her incompetent cousin Marvin Mansplain; and Inspector Vincent Nordique of the RCMP, who was hunting down a giant mutant boar and generally protecting Canada from threats domestic and foreign.
The Russians are coming! Vladimir Putin and the Spetsnaz—in disguise.
Tricia, looking for MooseCon.
Polly Pultizer and Marvin Mansplain.
Inspector Nordique and his faithful dog, Kimmik.
The zombie boar.
Polly interviews the Inspector, while Tricia checks out the computer store for the latest games.
It looked as if the Russians would easily reach the government research facility in disguise, until they were charged by fast runner zombies. They opened fire, but to no avail—Lt. Sergei Sergeyevich and Sgt. Boris Zhukov were devoured, leaving the President of Russia to continue the mission alone (which he did). Inspector Nordique got his boar, the hockey players slap-shotted zombies and ransacked a Tim Hortons, Tricia got to where she wanted to go, and Polly managed to interview most everyone (although Marvin was eaten).
On Sunday morning I watched several games, including Ben Taylor’s American Civil war refight of the First Battle of Kernstown (1862).
“In March 1862 the Union withdrawal from the Shenandoah Valley was going like clockwork. Then Stonewall Jackson attacked.”
Sunday afternoon it was time for Doctor Who: Terror at Devil’s Bay, put on by Brian Hearnden. I played one of a group of Sea Devils attacking an isolated naval base—defended by the Doctor and UNIT. I was quite happy with what my undersea terrors achieved, sinking a boat, capturing a probe, and taking out a section of UNIT forces led by Sergeant Benton himself. During the distraction we created, The Master infiltrated the base and retrieved a critical part for his TARDIS.
The Sea Devils attack!
Still more Sea Devils. The Doctor was up to something in the hanger.
After that, it was time to head home to Montreal. It was a very enjoyable weekend—and you can be sure I’ll be back next year.
Captain Barney McBarnacle surveyed the harbour. All seemed quiet—but you could never tell these days. Ever since the start of the zombie apocalypse there hadn’t been much demand for fresh seafood, so he and the crew of the trawler Stuttering Cormorant survived these days by scavenging in small coastal outports, trading goods, and ferrying the occasional survivor. Captain McBarnacle liked to help people—he was a kindly nautical humanitarian at heart.
The Captain recently made radio contact with one such group of survivors—apparently, a group of doctors and patients from a nearby government medical facility. He had arranged to meet them here, at Moose Cove. McBarnacle turned to his crew, First Mate Fergus O’Flotsam and Second Mate Seamus C. Shanty. “Look alive, you two–we’ve got passengers to pick up. We could do with some fuel and parts for the engine, while we’re at it.”
The Stuttering Cormorant docks at Moose Cove.
The harbour looks quiet—but is it?
Doctor Nina Putin turned to the children in exasperation as they clambered over a long-abandoned ice-cream truck. “We’ve no time for that—we need to get to the pier!” Her two colleagues from the Moose Cove Asylum for the Criminally Insane looked at her in exasperation. “I say we ditch them, the murderous little psychopaths,” whispered Doctor Myles Boffin. Professor Horatio Theorem nodded in agreement. “No,” replied Doctor Putin, “they’re useful for now.” No one, after all, was as handy with a gun as Claire, even if she was often off in her own imaginary world. Johnny had particular skills at breaking and entering, and Annie could certainly wield the knife she kept hidden behind her back. As for little Lucy, she seemed to have a sixth sense for danger. “We’ll lose them later, in town—they’ll do fine as zombie bait.”
The children heard none of this. They were hungry, and were hoping to find some food in town before meeting the trawler. They didn’t much like the scientists. All those genetic experiments back in the lab—they said they were necessary, but they were excruciatingly painful, and there was never ice cream. “Is it time yet, Lucy?” asked Johnny as he toyed with his Glock. The little girl shook her head. Not yet. She had powers. Powers that had been awoken back in the lab by the drugs and electrical shocks and gene-splicing and radiation treatments. She could get inside people’s minds, you see. Make them do things. But it wasn’t time. Not yet….
(Left to right) Doctor Putin, Claire, Johnny, Doctor Boffin, Annie, Professor Theorem, and little Lucy (in gas mask).
Kilda the penguin, far from home, hides amongst the rocks.
Seamus and Fergus disembark, while Captain MacBarnacle covers them with his hunting rifle.
Zombies approach the scientists and their young charges.
Zombies fight feral dogs on the dockside.
Doctor Putin mows down zombies with her machine pistol. Claire and Johnny fire too. They seem amused by all the carnage.
Lucy spots a Tim Hortons—and a solitary zombie child—in the distance.
An undead lighthouse keeper emerges as a horrified Kilda looks on. Moments later, Captain McBarnacle would gun him down.
On the docks, Fergus finds supplies, engine parts in a nearby warehouse—together with a skunk. Everyone will avoid close company with him for the next several days. After that, it won’t much matter.
Captain McBarnacle and Seamus check out the harbourmaster’s office.
The tanks of this seafood truck will turn out to be full. Seamus will siphon out the fuel to bring back to the Stuttering Cormorant.
Inside the Tim Horton’s, a hungry Claire spots a box of Timbits. Before she can eat, however, Professor Theorem scoops them up and puts them in his briefcase. “We don’t want you becoming hyperglycemic!” he says in an admonishing tone.
Claire screams in white-hot rage.
Outside in the street, Lucy watches as every single zombie in Moose Cove heads towards them.
Lucy watches the zombie horde approaching—led by a dreaded zombie boss.
Johnny throws a molotov cocktail at the undead, and then the children and scientists alike rush out the rear doors of the doughnut shop. All except Professor Theorem, that is. As Lucy stares at him intently, he hands Claire back the Timbits.
“Stop that, child—I know you’re causing this!” he growls when his head clears, slapping young Lucy.
Moments later, he clutches his head again, and runs towards the horde. He is quickly devoured. What strange behaviour for a man of science!
Zombies spot Professor Theorem in the distance, acting strangely behind Tim Hortons.
Doctor Putin guns down a zombie cheerleader, then calls to Myles Boffin. “I see the boat! Run! We need to get there before the children do!” Myles starts to run, but his asthma acts up and he can’t manage much more than a quick stroll. But then he too hears a voice inside his head.
Myles clutches his head as the voice grows louder.
As the children watch, Myles starts to walk towards the zombies too, just like Professor Theorem did. How funny it is! The zombies tear him apart and eat his brains!
Johnny is especially fascinated by all this. A bit too fascinated. A zombie catches him, and pulls his young head off as well. Dangerous things, zombies. The other children will miss Johnny, but it was quite amusing to see the undead squabble over his intestines!
With survivors and zombies alike headed towards the pier, Captain McBarnacle orders the crew back to the Stuttering Cormorant. “Make ready to cast off!” Doctor Putin is waving at him, signalling something about the children. Captain McBarnacle seems to think she wants him to wait for them. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Doctor Putin pleads with the crew of the Stuttering Cormorant to set off before the children catch up.
Little Lucy looks at Doctor Putin, who is about to board. She thinks how nice it would be if the good doctor would turn around and attack the approaching horde of zombies instead.
The surviving children jump aboard the boat as Doctor Putin heads to her doom.
The Stuttering Cormorant sets off as Doctor Putin is pulled down by the horde. She would rise later as one of them.
The last known picture of Captain McBarnacle and the crew of the Stuttering Cormorant.
“Do we really need these men?” Claire asks Lucy as the boat reaches the open sea. “They take up so much space, and one of them smells like a skunk.” Lucy ponders the question.
Two weeks later the Stuttering Cormorant would reach a survivors’ colony with no crew aboard, only three orphaned waifs—and one very frightened penguin. Tragically, its frantic squawking would be misunderstood as a plea for fish rather than a warning of nightmarish horrors to come…
I recently had a chance to wargame part of the “battle off the coast of Abkhazia,” using Bulldogs Away! 2nd edition, a set of miniatures rules (currently in playtest) for modern fast attack craft, 1950-present. Two of us commanded part of a Russian amphibious landing force—some Ropucha and Alligator-class landing ships, escorted by a group of four corvettes. Our Georgian opponents had a few missile boats.
Most of our force approached with radars off so as to not give warning of our advance, with one corvette forward and emitting as a radar picket. This ship also sought to stay close to a civilian vessel to confuse the defenders.
Soon, however, the two forces spotted each other, and missiles started flying, and guns opened up. We also discovered an unexpected sandbar, forcing us to divert from our planned landing zone.
We were doing well until a Georgian Excocet hit and sunk one of the landing ships, with a terrible loss of personnel.
The first salvo of Georgian missiles misses their targets. Flares and chaff can be seen being fired from the centre ship.
A Georgian FAC takes a hit.
The rules played very well for the most part, capturing the importance of ESM, ECM, and modern radars, targeting systems, and SSMs.
The zombie-infested city, with the gleaming ruins of Trump Tower in the distance.
Once again, I ran two zombie apocalypse games. Escape from the Apocalypse II: Return to Trump Tower was a sequel to last year’s game, which had seen President Donald Trump bitten by the infected and become a zombie lord. Each game this year featured four competing teams, each of two players. Each team had different objectives, while The Donald himself was generally controlled by a random card draw.
In the first game, Team Clinton consisted of katana-wielding Hillary Clinton, backed up by former Democratic National Committee chairs Debbie Wasserman Schultz and Donna Brazile. Their primary objective was confront Donald Trump about the 2016 election, while their secondary objective was to destroy a laptop containing incriminating Benghazi-Uranium One emails in a nearby computer repair store. Hillary had a few special cards her team could play—including Democratic Party “Superdelegates” to sabotage Bernie Sanders’ efforts, or mobilizing John Podesta’s “Pizzeria Cultists” to aid their campaign
Infuriated by President Trump’s continued attacks against her, angry at the role that Russia played in the 2016 election, and opposed to Donald Trump’s role in the ongoing zombie apocalypse, Hillary Clinton has decided to take matters into her own hand and confront the President/real-estate tycoon/reality television star/zombie lord one last time.
In this she is backed by two stalwarts of the Democratic establishment: former chairpersons of the Democratic National Committee, Debbie Wasserman Schultz and Donna Brazile.
Watch out for the FBI—after all, they sabotaged your election chances in 2016. Be very careful of Bernie Sanders, too. He appears to be out campaigning already for the 2020 election—amongst the undead….
Team Bernie, of course, was led by Bernie Sanders—kitted out with a flamethrower. He had the assistance of “Bernie Bros” Hugh Hipster and anti-globalization protester Billy Punk. With an eye to Bernie’s 2020 presidential campaign, they had to deliver campaign speeches at various points around the zombie-infested city. Various one-time action cards allowed them to use “Grassroots Activism” to move the less-than-living, or “Fight the Establishment” to slow Team Clinton.
The country needs a new direction, one that puts working men, and women, the middle class, youth, minorities, the LGBTQ+ community, healthcare, education, and the environment first! Under President Trump, the corporate profits have come at the expense of ordinary people, while the less-than-living have been marginalized.
Beware of Hillary Clinton—she, and the Democratic Party establishment, remain bitter opponents of progressive activism.
Team Mueller was led by Special Prosecutor Robert Mueller, and also included former FBI Director James Comey and Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein. Their task was to subpoena the President himself—and, if possible, Kellyanne Conway too. They could use their “Wiretap” card to view another team’s objectives, among other special actions.
The Special Counsel investigation has continued, despite the apocalypse. Now Robert Mueller is ready for the final step: to present a subpoena to President Trump to testify before a Grand Jury on charges of colluding with Russia.
The final team in the first game was Team Trump, consisting of trusted advisor Kellyanne Conway and loyal press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders. They needed to remove the President’s cellphone before he could tweet anything incriminating. They also gained points if Hillary, Bernie, and Mueller were eaten by the undead. they were well-equipped with “Fake News” and “Alternative Facts” card that allowed them to cancel random events or reroll dice.
The President must be protected! There was no collusion! You must foil the ongoing witch-hunt by Special Counsel Robert Mueller. You must also defend the President against attacks from his Democratic rivals. Make the Apocalypse Great Again! #MAGA
During the first game, Team Mueller found themselves in trouble early, when a pack of fast runner zombies sprinted after the unarmed Rod Rosenstein and bit him. Mueller and Comey then engaged in a running gun battle with an ever-growing horde of undead (including a newly zombified Deputy Attorney General). However, not even the brief intervention of a FBI SWAT team could save them, and they were eventually overrun.
Mueller and Comey take aim at approaching zombies as Rosenstein lies twitching in the road, afflicted with the deadly Z-virus.
Team Trump established an early lead, collecting the President’s cellphone and then barricading themselves in a liquor store, from where they planned to stay safe and snipe at their opponents. Unfortunately, shortly before he died Mueller played a “Plea Bargain” card which forced Sarah Huckabee Sanders to exit the building, whereupon she was quickly devoured by zombies.
Kellyanne Conway and Sarah Huckabee Sanders approach President Trump.
Team Clinton was almost overrun by undead abominations too, but Donna Brazile sacrificed herself to allow Clinton to escape. Later, Kellyanne Conway tried to shoot the former presidential candidate, but a nearby former secret service zombie tackled Clinton to save her. Moments later, the same zombie tried to eat Hillary, only to be decapitated by Wasserman Schultz.
Hillary Clinton confronts Donald Trump.
Finally, Team Bernie had the clever idea to hot-wire an ambulance, then use its PA system to amplify Bernie’s campaign speeches. Needless to say, this attracted a horde of undead, which the senator from Vermont was forced to incinerate. They all then scrambled from the vehicle, with Billy and Bernie escaping the city. Hugh was less fortunate, running out of ammunition just as several zombies caught up with him.
Bernie Sanders speaks to the less-than-living, shortly before incinerating them.
Bernie gives a quick speech on healthcare reform, before heading out of the city.
At the end of almost four hours of play, Team Bernie had secured victory:
Team Clinton: 17 points
Team Bernie: 23 points
Team Mueller: 10 points
Team Trump: 11 points
In the second game, the teams were different.
Team Russia consisted of Vladimir Putin and his bear, Nikolai Berdyaev.
Zombie President Trump has eaten the US air force officer who carries the “football”—the launch codes for the American nuclear arsenal. If these can be recovered from Trump Tower, Russia will be able to achieve global domination.
Also, watch out for Kim Jong-un. He’s up to no good…
The Russians also gained points by entering one of the several restaurants in the city, then complaining thereafter about American food and constantly extolling the superiority of Russian cuisine. Among other cards, Putin could use the infamous Moscow hotel “Tape” to control President Trump for a turn.
Team DPRK had burrowed their way to the United States from North Korea. It was led by Great Leader Kim Jong-un, together with two tunnelers from the Korean People’s Army. The team gained die roll bonuses if they could convince bystanders to engage in rhythmic clapping.
Now is the time to strike! With the American public consumed (quite literally) by the zombie apocalypse, and their dotard President little more than a shambling flesh-eating imperialist abomination, the People’s Democratic Republic of Korea has a historic opportunity to tear down the rotting edifice of twilight capitalism and build a bright new future for scientific socialism under the leadership of the Korean Workers’ Party.
Led by heroic leader Kim Jong-un, a team of elite commandos will tunnel into the area of Trump Tower, and plant a nuclear weapon there (before leaving very quickly).
Beware of the false friendship of the Russian bear, however—for they would foil the historic march of the people’s revolutionary vanguard.
They too gained additional points by finding an American restaurant and thereafter praising the superiority of Korean food.
Team Mexico was led by former Mexican President Vicente Fox, supported by two of his countrymen.
Even as a zombie, President Trump continues to insult the noble people of Mexico in undead tweets and hostile groans.
The honour of the Republic requires that he be confronted , and told NO, Mexico WILL NOT pay for The Wall.
Once again, additional points could be collected through rhetorical culinary warfare. The “NAFTA” card found them additional items upon a successful search, while “Chain Migration” led to temporary help from a shotgun-wielding relative.
Finally, The Travel-Banned were just trying to get across the zombie-infested United States to Toronto.
You didn’t even plan to be here—you were all on a flight from the Middle East to Toronto for an academic conference, when your plane made an emergency landing in Cincinnati due to a problem with the pilot (eating the co-pilot and cabin crew).
Make your way across the city towards Canada.
Also, no one wears a fez in the Middle East any more. You bought these ones at an airport gift shop as gifts for Canadian friends before leaving.
They also collected points by posing for selfies with world leaders, and studying zombies from afar. They had only one gun between them, but all the skills of scholars and scientists, and a large supply of “Inshallah” cards that allowed them to reroll dice.
Team Russia powered through the ravaged city, smashing zombies down left and right with club and claws. Ultimately they were successful in finding the nuclear launch codes.
Vladimir Putin (centre) clears zombies from the streetsas his bear (bottom) looks on and the Travel-Banned (right) hide in a nearby pizzeria.
Team DPRK did well too. They planted their nuclear weapon at Trump Tower, then stole a great-looking convertible. Kim Jong-un was driven to safety, while one tunneler was left behind to cause mayhem.
The North Koreans pile into the convertible after planting a nuclear weapon (metal cylinder, right) in the rubble of Trump Tower. A solitary zombie approaches.
Team Mexico found themselves beset by zombies, and as they gunned some down, more shambled in their direction, attracted by the noise of the gunfire. While they successfully confronted Donald Trump over The Wall, Vicente Fox and a second team member were killed soon thereafter. The surviving member of the group was last seen holding off hordes of undead—while failing to notice the North Korean nuke only a few feet way in the rubble…
The Mexicans spot a Tim Hortons.
The ever-hungry Mexicans check out an ice cream van too.
Finally, The Travel-Banned were almost devoured early in the game, but saved by President Putin and the brief appearance of Russian team of “little green men” (Spetsnaz special forces). They then followed the Russians around for a while, before spotting a Mini Cooper in a parking lot. This they managed to start, made an almost impossible Italian-Job-type escape down a narrow alley pursued by the walking dead, and made it safely to Canada (despite North Korean sniper fire).
Arab scholars pile into a small British car while hordes of deplorable American zombies rush across the parking lot towards them.
The Travel-Banned make it to safety!
When the points were totalled up, the Travel-Banned emerged as the surprise winners:
Team Russia: 23 points
Team DPRK: 22 points
Team Mexico: 17 points
The Travel-Banned: 31 points
On Saturday afternoon and Sunday I also joined two games as a player.
The first was Poland’s Deluge – Moscow Drives West, very ably put on by Tod Creasy of the Ottawa Miniature Gamers. Set during the Russo-Polish War of 1654-1667, the scenario saw the Russian side trying to protect a supply column from a powerful Polish force during operations in Lithuania.
On the Russian side, our strategy was to aggressively challenge the Poles on our right flank (despite the rather low quality of our cavalry), pushing them back from the road used by our wagons, while denying our left flank, and using our low quality Cossacks to lure the Polish winged hussars out of position. It all worked out rather well—it was one of those games where the outcome of the battle had been determined by the interaction of tactical choices by the two sides. In particular, I felt the Poles should have more quickly challenged our right flank, since delays on their part allowed us to fight well clear of the wagons for most of the battle.
Russian cavalry advance quickly to screen the wagons (approaching from the left).
The second game was part of the Battle of Megiddo in September 1918, pitting British and Imperial forces against the Ottoman Turks in Palestine. More specifically, it recreated the successful capture of the bridge across the Jordan River at Jisr al-Damieh on 22 September by “Chaytor’s Force” of Australian and New Zealand Mounted Rifles Brigade, the 1st and 2nd (Australian) Light Horse, as well as the 20th Indian Brigade (including the Jewish Legion and troops from the West Indies). Nicholas Swales of the Ottawa Miniature Gamers organized this.
On the British side, we held the crossings at el-Ghoraniyeh and Makt Hijla with four battalions of Imperial infantry, while keeping the rest of the Indian Brigade in reserve on the west side of the Jordan River. The New Zealand Mounted Rifles and 1st Light Horse were ordered to make a sweeping cavalry attack on Jisr al-Damieh so as to secure it before Turkish reinforcements, retreating from earlier battles to the west near Nablus, could reinforce. The 2nd Light Horse were ordered to cross the river at el-Ghoraniyeh and then attack the bridge from the east.
The cavalry charge went off as planned, flanking the Ottoman defences and falling upon the defenders and cutting them down. The reinforcements were also attacked and driven off. Across the river, however, the Turks (with some German support) advanced on our West Indies troops. The 2nd Light Horse were reassigned to attack the advancing Turks, and succeeded in driving off several Ottoman battalions, albeit at heavy cost. When our troops holding Makt Hijla took very heavy casualties and began to falter the reserve Indian brigade was sent across the river to stabilize the position. The result was an Imperial victory.
Australian and New Zealand mounted infantry attack the Ottoman defenders at the bridge.
It was a terrific weekend of gaming, and I’ll hope to be at CanGames again in May 2019—possibly running a sequel-to-the-sequel zombies game.