This past weekend was the third instalment of our local gaming convention
Hammercon.
I planned to be running a wargaming event, EPIC: Armageddon, but it fell through in the end and, at 11:00pm Friday night, one of the con organizers asked if I'd be up to running a slot of Apocalypse World the next morning; I said "sure!", because I've been in love with AW for a long time and I like to spread that love.
So, I printed playbooks (including The Faceless), re-read some rules, got some scrap paper and pencils, and showed up bright and early the next morning. My session sign-up sheet had filled in minutes... all with newcomers to AW! I got to my assigned table, settled in, greeted the players and handed out the playbooks. After a few brief explanations we started a "First Session" and then...
...something terrible happened...I got to meet
Crimson Absinthe, of the drug-making Absinthe clan, near-naked, chain-swinging Battlebabe, with hints of an incestuously competitive relationship with her little sister, and dreams of being a kingmaker.
There was also
Jag, the Driver of the Harmbulance, aka Bertha, a spike-festooned, armour plated ambulance, moving from holding to holding, breaking hearts and heads with...
Rover, the tall, stick thin, twitchy, Gunlugger, suffering from a severe vitamin-c addiction due to neurological experiments performed on him by his insane uncle, an addiction only kept at bay by a rapidly decreasing supply of tinned oranges.
All in the employ of the Hocus
Ruger, the Rapemast...
Ringmaster of the all female, tattooed, contortionist extravaganza the Circus of Discord, riding the roads and spreading lust and debauchery at every stop in between.
I met them as they were just rolling up to the holding of New Hope... and got to see just a glimpse of their insane exploits... before time was called and their players scattered to the winds...
I fell in love with these sick fuckers... and they were snatched away from me... I'll never get to find out what happened after they kicked over the figurative anthills around them... don't know who Rover will side with... or if Jag has found his true love... or why Ruger is so attached to his top hat... or what the hell is going on with Crimson and her sister...
I want to play to find out... and now I can't...
Apocalypse World is a cruel, cruel game, and playing single sessions at conventions can break an MC's black, withered heart...
I hate you Apocalypse World... please hold me forever.