Recently, people have taken to posting little summations of their CoC game adventures. These things read, of course, like the "example of play" sections from every role-playing system ever published: exciting, dramatic, and intriguing.

In a similar vein, I now present to you the highlights of the WORST CoC game ever run, one in which at least half of the players had no idea who or what Lovecraft was, and the remainder wondered why they couldn't memorize a couple of magic missiles or fireballs...

• The cast of players were as follows: a tabloid scandal-sheet reporter (me), a hard-bitten tough-as-nails detective a la Mike Hammer, an eccentric professor of linguistics and antiquities, a bored-and-boring millionaire playboy, and "a wizard" ("Where are you from?" "Dunno." "How did you come to learn your terrible and sanity-shattering abilities?" "It's on my sheet. Look, right here. He [pointing at Keeper] said I could have it...").

• The game begins with a phone call to the Detective from a man who says he is acting as an agent for a very wealthy man who lives on a secluded island off the coast of New York state, and would the detective please come? Details would be given when he arrived, but a healthy retainer was offered. Detective immediately calls all the "players" for no adequately explored reason and invites them all to gatecrash a meeting with a client. All, though most have no idea who the hell this Detective is, accept - again, for no adequately explored reason.

• In a desperate attempt at injecting roleplay, Reporter bursts into the Detective's office, sitting on the edge of his desk and "cracking wise." Says he's been in the outer office listening on the secretary's line, and knows there's a story in there somewhere, so, dammit, he better get invited to this meeting. Detective objects and says he doesn't have a secretary. Reporter, thinking quickly, accuses Detective of "hitting the sauce again," and pulls a flask of cheap rotgut whiskey from Detective's desk drawer. Detective frowns and whines: "Hey! You can't do that! I don't drink. That's not really there! Hey, [looking at Keeper] he can't do that, can he?"

• Players rendez-vous at Detective's office for trip to island. Reporter boggles as he realizes there is enough firepower present to start, fight, and win the Great War in Europe. Linguistics Professor arrives toting a tommy gun and assorted pistols. Has, apparently, better marksmanship than the Detective. Playboy has dynamite in his suitcase. Wizard comes packing heat and wants to know when he can "memorize his spells."

• Players arrive at island and find requisite strange village with odd- looking, flinty-eyed villagers. As the ferry runs only once every seven days, we are effectively trapped. Residence of client, where we are to stay, turns out to be sagging, run-down, and rambling mansion. Playboy remarks jauntilly: "Boy, sure hope we don't meet any shoggoths. I hate shoggoths." Playboy's Cthulhu Mythos score: 0%.

• Host is creepy older guy who insists we get settled before he discusses the case. Is unsurprised to find entire crowd at his doorstep. Has, apparently, multiple wives, which fails utterly to make impression on the players.

• After dinner (Detective, cannily, refuses to eat anything under the assumption that strange old guy could have poisoned the food) host announces that we are to be informed of his case the following night, that we are to have a good night's sleep first.

• Candles are snuffed, lanterns turned low, the household turns in. Reporter knocks on doors, urging others to come and snoop around. Is told to go away. Everyone except Reporter goes to sleep, ignoring strange and irritating noises that fill the old house. Reporter, only unarmed person in the whole group, spends the night shivering with the blankets pulled up around his head and a weighty candlestick in his hand, eyes nervously darting around the shadowy room. Other players snore blissfully through the night.

• Next morning, players are told the host is unavailable, but will be present at dinner. Reporter notes that he has only ever seen host at night, never during day. Wives are also missing. Servants are unpleasant and odd-looking.

• Players decide to go exploring. Wizard wants to know if there's any "treasure" around, and what do we think the silverware is worth? Playboy, Professor, and Detective go to the Strange Village to investigate. Reporter snoops around the mansion, keeping eye on the servants to make sure none of them check the other players' luggage, for fear of what they'll do if they see all the weapons of mass destruction.

• Comparing notes before dinner, the following facts are ascertained: the host and his wives are well-respected in the Strange Village. The Strange Villagers are taciturn and resent any kind of intrusion into their affairs. The host and his wives are never seen during the day. Reporter becomes convinced host is a vampire, and makes sure he keeps a vial of holy water he cleverly took with him on his person.

• Halfway through dinner, Reporter (blush) leaps up from his chair, screaming: "Die, blood-sucking fiend!", unstoppers the vial of holy water and hurls it on the host. The host gets wet. Reporter smiles nervously and slinks back into his seat while everyone goggles at him. Reporter makes apology and says something about working too hard these days.

• Host relates long, complicated story about Strange Occurances, Sinister Happenings, et al. Since no one thought to take notes, at least half is forgotten within minutes. All future references to the story goes along the lines of: "Hey, didn't he say, you know, that thingy did something to whats-his-name, and, you know?" "No, I think he said the other guy, you know, they guy with the weird name, went and did that other thing there." "What other thing?" "Dunno, weren't you listening either?"

• Another blissful night of sleep for rest of the players, another red-eyed night of terror for the Reporter.

• Investigations the next day reveal nothing. Reporter decides to shake things up in the hopes of jarring something loose. At dinner that night, he declares that he's going to be out on a secluded beach that night, taking pictures of the midnight sea. Reporter states that with these pictures, he's sure he can convince some big company to come and build a huge resort on the island. Host narrows his eyes and hisses that he really thinks that would be a bad idea. Reporter, grinning, pretends not to notice, and spends the rest of the evening talking about what massive development the island can expect as the host seethes...

• That night, the Reporter grabs his camera, his flash powder, and a whole pile of photographic plates. The players wish him good luck and get ready for bed, telling him that he better be careful and geez, didn't he think being out there all alone on the beach after what he said might be dangerous? Reporter explodes, calling other players morons, and tells them to grab their damn artillery and come with him. Players look at each other, shrug, and concede.

• Reporter sets up camera on stand on the beach. Players stand beside him, shuffling their feet, with weaponry hanging out all over. Reporter, controlling his temper, suggests to the other players that this little trap might be more successful if there wasn't a heavily-armed mob standing guard on the beach, so perhaps they ought to go and bloody HIDE.

• Party leaves Reporter and advances into the trees. beyond the beach. Keeper asks how far they go into the trees. Players confer and say and say five feet. Keeper shrugs and informs Reporter he can see a heavily armed mob standing just inside the line of trees. Reporter grits his teeth and yells for the others to go farther back. Keeper asks how far back they go. Players confer and say a quarter-mile. Reporter, unaware that players are now out of both eyeshot and earshot, is relieved to be unable to see the rest of the players, so well hidden are they.

• Hours pass, and a villager approaches from one end of the beach. Villager stalks up to the Reporter and begins asking pointed questions about what he's doing and is he alone. Reporter pretends complete ignorance and announces he is quite alone, and will be out here all night. Villager smiles evilly and advances on Reporter. Reporter shouts "Okay, get 'im boys!" Villager leaps back, looking around warily. Reporter begins to sweat as utter silence greets him. Villager grins again, and leaps at Reporter. Reporter touches off huge charge of flash powder in Villager's face and runs like hell. Villager staggers after him, shrieking "Aiii, I'se blind! Aiiii!" Reporter arrives in mansion, panting, out of breath, terrified, and bars the door. Spends third night sleepless with candle- stick. Other players troop back in the morning, sneering: "Well, so much for your great plan. Nothing happened all night."

• Party begins to systematically explore mansion, from top to bottom. In the storm cellar, machine-gun toting professor finds a hole in the stone wall behind a chest. Other players arrive, and find hole is large enough to be crawled through, and the chest contains a huge treasure of gold coins, jewels, silver goblets, etc. Wizard insists on counting it, coin by coin, so we can "divide party treasure."

• Lanterns and flashlights in hand, party crawls into tunnel. Reporter ensures that he is neither first in line, nor last.

• Reporter suddenly notices that the walls of the tunnel appear to have been clawed out. Lose sanity, lose sanity. Reporter screams this little fact out. Playboy (Cthulhy Mythos score: 0%) nods knowingly and makes reference to Cthonians. The rest of the party shrugs and continues into tunnel. Reporter pushes his way past the players with much shoving and knees in kidneys, and exits tunnel.

• Long before the screaming and shooting starts, the Reporter has stolen the car, driven to the dock, and bribed a fisherman to get him back to the mainland. Reporter retires from Investigation business, never plays CoC with these players again, and calls down the curses of a thousand mad arabs on the incompetant Keeper.

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 +-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ ...........................................
 |  Andrew Nellis              | ."When you see the crowd going one way,   .
 |  bs904@freenet.carleton.ca  | . run like hell in the other direction."  .
 +-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ .................Charles Bukowski..........