TheAuldGrump

Bones Supporter
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Everything posted by TheAuldGrump

  1. Live

    Bones Kickstarters - Keeping Gamers Broke Since 2011 The Auld Grump
  2. Live

    Hmmm too bad there isn't a 'Squinchy Face' emoticon.... Me: Hmm, those Spartan and Amazon statues could have been handy for that two part adventure, where the two parts take place hundreds of years apart.... Megan: You mean the one you wanted to play test in the kids' game? Me: 'Squinchy Face'.... I will be running the two part adventure starting Friday, at the pagan retreat - Megan has been through the 'grownup' part, so she will be in the 'kids' part this time around. (There is no difference in maturity on the two parts - the name for the parts is from when I ran it for the kids and their parents at a camp out - though the kids didn't actually play, being distracted by, well, camp out. No nekkid statues needed....) Sadly, it was the part for the kids that I worked most on - there are some parts that I am really looking forward to finally getting to play. The Auld Grump - still, I like the idea of using the new and old statues to denote the passage of time....
  3. Live

    Well, we do have a daughter... Baba Yaga's hut counts as a dollhouse, doesn't it? ::P:: The Auld Grump - we are going to be giving her a Weebles Haunted House when she is old enough - even though the Weebles have been gone for decades.
  4. Live

    In my case, I would know the trap had been sprung when I get home and the hut is already on Megan's side of the table.... (We.... may need to get two....) The Auld Grump - it's already happened with the Bones III Sophie.... I could have sworn the figure just plain hadn't been shipped, but there she was, cleaned, primed, and partially painted....
  5. Megan has accused me of... salivating. What can I say, there's no drool like an auld drool.... Really hoping they incorporate something like the Ash Wastes - I was looking at Megan's Inquisitor Mobile, while going 'Vrooom! Vroom!'... The Auld Grump - first GW game I have been excited about in decades!
  6. One of the songs we danced to - Yes, that does look like folks break dancing to a Swing tune, doesn't it? (And, no, we didn't! ) The Auld Grump - who first heard this song in an ad for the computer game Contrast.
  7. Last night, at Old Neighborhood Buffet, I ran the first session of a Paranormal Romance game set at the tail end of WWII. This is the third time I have used this setting, each time advancing the year - the first was set in Berlin between the Wars, the second was a complete and unapologetic rip off of TSR's Ravenloft - with the villain being Strahd von Tzarovitch, a follower of Ungern-Sternberg that switched his allegiance to Germany and the Nazi party after the fall of Tzarist Russia. During that campaign, one of the PCs got a Dear John letter from his fiance in Boston - and was killed by Strahd before he could reply, never coming home. The new campaign is in Boston - and one of the PCs is that fiance, who has just inherited the late occult detective's business. (The breakup was because she did not believe in such foolishness.) The dinner took place in game, as the agency met with Boston attorney Robert (pronounced Roe - Bare) Bonami.... The late detective had also set aside the funds to pay the other three characters for a period of two years, and the lawyer also brought a letter of introduction to a Texas oilman that had just purchased a haunted brownstone in Boston. Said Texan does not want the ghost removed - he bought the place because it was haunted. The Texan's name is Bob Goodfriend - and so far, I think Megan is the only one to pick up on the trick with the names.... Then we got interrupted by four older Japanese tourists - who all play Dungeons & Dragons. The game went on hold for the night, but we all had a very nice conversation. (Though Megan tells me that it was my Weirdness Magnet again. ) The Auld Grump
  8. I just downloaded my old World Works Platform Command PDFs again - just for Necromunda. Yeah, they are old, and yeah, they didn't age that well - but I can print up a lot. The Auld Grump
  9. Live

    Hmmmm... This.... Mordheim! Hmmmm... this.... Mordheim! I wouldn't mind repeating the theme a few times! The Auld Grump - yes, I like Mordheim... how could you tell?
  10. A long time ago, I said that all GW had to do, to get me back as a customer, was re-release Necromunda or Mordheim.... Now... they have. I am a happy Grump. (You all realize that I am going to drag Megan into this, don't you?) The Auld Grump
  11. Yikes. Really, Pathfinder isn't that complex - especially for a sandbox setting, where you do not really need to worry about encounter balance. The project would have been a good deal easier if they had the same designers working on the Pathfinder version as had worked on the 3e version - the folks at Judges Guild started over, from the original, rather than updating the 3e version. (Different publisher. The 3e version was by Necromancer Games, which would later kind of become Frog God Games.) Necromancer had a much bigger staff than it is likely that the current incarnation of Judges Guild has. (The original Judges Guild was tiny. I want to say that it only had one full time person - and that was Bledsaw, who also owned the company.) At a guess, it is quite likely that they vastly underestimated the amount of work required - period - and likely put money in the wrong areas first. (This happens a lot for Kickstarters - folks not having any idea of how to proceed, and misallocating funds - do that too much, and the project will never recover.) So, things happen like suddenly realizing you have no art budget - aside from the cover, which you blew your entire art budget on. Or that you paid your writers, and forgot about editing. (A game system and mechanics editor is a very special beast - pretty much every edition of D&D, from OD&D to 5th, has suffered from this lack at some point - and D&D has suffered from it less than many others.) Or, oh, hey! We need to hire somebody to lay it out! (Another special beasty - and why Paizo uses such a standardized format - the first time is the worst.) That said - OD&D is probably the easiest to convert to 5e, and the PDF is easily available. The Auld Grump
  12. The City State - If you want cheap, then look at RPGNow for the PDFs of the original ($4), or the Revised ($10) - the latter has had the game stats for D&D removed and a generic non-system put in its place - I do not recommend it, as I found the non-system kind of distracting - and no easier to convert than the old OD&D version. More expensive, but very well done, is the d20 version from the nineties - almost $30... but likely my favorite edition. (I got the hardcover, cheap. Now that hardcover is running over $300... and I am not tempted to sell my copy.) Even if you get the d20 version, I highly recommend getting the PDFs of the classic players map from RPGNow ($2) - the d20 version does not include the partial map for the players.. The city map is the same as the older version - redrawn, and cleaner - but each street where it was before. But I like having a map to hand the PCs, with big blank areas not shown. There was a Kickstarter in 2014 for a new-new edition, but I have no idea what happened with it. Bard's Gate... a few weeks ago, you could have gotten the PDF for $15 - it was on sale. It went from being a pretty standard perfect bound book of maybe 125 pages to a behemoth of over 500 pages.... Frog God Games - go big or stay home! Still chewing through it - I got the PDF during the above mentioned sale. The Auld Grump
  13. Getting this for Sam's new figure - Painting it to look as much like her as I can - much as I liked the Asian female spellcaster from Bones III for her, the chibi cartoon of Lysette just looks too much like Sam to ignore. Plus... making her a redhead kind of works for a Kitsune. Dain is getting a dwarf from Bones III with a passable boarding axe. And... if the party splits the right way, then Iain will finally get his black sword - being me, it is coming with a few strings attached. (It is haunted - I really want to thank Rite Publishing for the idea of haunted treasures....) The Auld Grump - We were schooner rigged and rakish, with a long and lithesome hull, When we flew the pretty color, of the crossbones, and the skull..... The Auld Grump
  14. Rather than continue to fill the Best Version of D&D thread with tales of lost treasure, and high seas battles.... Pretty sure that the Mutiny of The Wormwood Mutiny will take place this Tuesday - but after that.... I am thinking that I will abandon the rest of the Path, and go with my own piratey path to perdition - it will take just about the same amount of work to do a whole new adventure as it will to jury rig the Skull & Shackles path for twelve players. Also, it allows me to come up with new ideas a week before I need them, in a blind panic. One idea is that I want to have one of those Mythic turtles... the ones with a whole danged island on their backs. (I coulda sworn we buried the treasure on an island that was right here....) Maybe add a bit of Kingmaker* to the mix - let the PCs establish their own pirate haven. The Auld Grump * This assumes that the kids are at all interested in creating their own pirate kingdom. 9 years old....
  15. Live

    This image is going on Sam's character sheet - And as a result I am changing the figure for her human form. The Auld Grump - she has worn that exact expression... disturbing on a nine year old.
  16. Live

    James Jacobs described the dire bear in the Pathfinder Bestiary - 'A surprise birthday party? For me?!' - he was not over fond of that illo. The Auld Grump
  17. Live

    Do adult only Kickstarters get dirty limericks? The Auld Grump - there was a young couple from Florida....
  18. It would destroy the miniature if left long enough... which may have happened, once or twice... (The first an accident, the second... I really, really hated one of their dwarf minis.) The Auld Grump - when I left the dwarf in for a few weeks he started... expanding, until he was about an inch and a half of spongy plastic.
  19. Live

    Also loving the tree - it's making me feel all poetical.... On the lone bleak moor, At the midnight hour, Beneath the Gallows Tree, Hand in hand The Murderers stand By one, by two, by three! And the Moon that night With a grey, cold light Each baleful object tips; One half of her form Is seen through the storm, The other half ‘s hid in Eclipse! And the cold Wind howls, And the Thunder growls, And the Lightning is broad and bright; And altogether It ‘s very bad weather, And an unpleasant sort of a night! ‘Now mount who list, And close by the wrist Sever me quickly the Dead Man’s fist!— Now climb who dare Where he swings in air, And pluck me five locks of the Dead Man’s hair!' There ‘s an old woman dwells upon Tappington Moor, She hath years on her back at the least fourscore, And some people fancy a great many more; Her nose it is hook’d, Her back it is crook’d, Her eyes blear and red: On the top of her head Is a mutch, and on that A shocking bad hat, Extinguisher-shaped, the brim narrow and flat! Then,— My Gracious!— her beard!— it would sadly perplex A spectator at first to distinguish her sex; Nor, I’ll venture to say, without scrutiny could be Pronounce her, off-handed, a Punch or a Judy. Did you see her, in short, that mud-hovel within, With her knees to her nose, and her nose to her chin, Leering up with that queer, indescribable grin, You’d lift up your hands in amazement, and cry, '— Well!— I never did see such a regular Guy!' And now before That old Woman’s door, Where nought that ‘s good may be, Hand in hand The Murderers stand By one, by two, by three! Oh! ‘tis a horrible sight to view, In that horrible hovel, that horrible crew, By the pale blue glare of that flickering flame, Doing the deed that hath never a name! ‘Tis awful to hear Those words of fear! The prayer mutter’d backwards, and said with a sneer! (Matthew Hopkins himself has assured us that when A witch says her prayers, she begins with ‘Amen.') — —' Tis awful to see On that Old Woman’s knee The dead, shrivell’d hand, as she clasps it with glee!— And now, with care, The five locks of hair From the skull of the Gentleman dangling up there, With the grease and the fat Of a black Tom Cat She hastens to mix, And to twist into wicks, And one on the thumb, and each finger to fix.— (For another receipt the same charm to prepare, Consult Mr Ainsworth and Petit Albert.) ‘Now open lock To the Dead Man’s knock! Fly bolt, and bar, and band! — Nor move, nor swerve Joint, muscle, or nerve, At the spell of the Dead Man’s hand! Sleep all who sleep!— Wake all who wake!— But be as the Dead for the Dead Man’s sake!!' All is silent! all is still, Save the ceaseless moan of the bubbling rill As it wells from the bosom of Tappington Hill. And in Tappington Hall Great and Small, Gentle and Simple, Squire and Groom, Each one hath sought his separate room, And sleep her dark mantle hath o’er them cast, For the midnight hour hath long been past! All is darksome in earth and sky, Save, from yon casement, narrow and high, A quivering beam On the tiny stream Plays, like some taper’s fitful gleam By one that is watching wearily. Within that casement, narrow and high, In his secret lair, where none may spy, Sits one whose brow is wrinkled with care, And the thin grey locks of his failing hair Have left his little bald pate all bare; For his full-bottom’d wig Hangs, bushy and big, On the top of his old-fashion’d, high-back’d chair. Unbraced are his clothes, Ungarter’d his hose, His gown is bedizen’d with tulip and rose, Flowers of remarkable size and hue, Flowers such as Eden never knew; — And there, by many a sparkling heap Of the good red gold, The tale is told What powerful spell avails to keep That careworn man from his needful sleep! Haply, he deems no eye can see As he gloats on his treasure greedily,— The shining store Of glittering ore, The fair Rose-Noble, the bright Moidore, And the broad Double-Joe from beyond the sea,— But there’s one that watches as well as he; For, wakeful and sly, In a closet hard by On his truckle bed lieth a little Foot-page, A boy who ‘s uncommonly sharp of his age, Like young Master Horner, Who erst in a corner Sat eating a Christmas pie: And, while that Old Gentleman’s counting his hoards, Little Hugh peeps through a crack in the boards! There ‘s a voice in the air, There ‘s a step on the stair, The old man starts in his cane-back’d chair; At the first faint sound He gazes around, And holds up his dip of sixteen to the pound. Then half arose From beside his toes His little pug-dog with his little pug nose, But, ere he can vent one inquisitive sniff, That little pug-dog stands stark and stiff, For low, yet clear, Now fall on the ear, — Where once pronounced for ever they dwell,— The unholy words of the Dead Man’s spell! ‘Open lock To the Dead Man’s knock! Fly bolt, and bar, and band!— Nor move, nor swerve, Joint, muscle, or nerve, At the spell of the Dead Man’s hand! Sleep all who sleep!— Wake all who wake!— But be as the Dead for the Dead Man’s sake!‘Now lock, nor bolt, nor bar avails, Nor stout oak panel thick-studded with nails. Heavy and harsh the hinges creak, Though they had been oil’d in the course of the week, The door opens wide as wide may be, And there they stand, That murderous band, Lit by the light of the GLORIOUS HAND, By one!— by two!— by three! They have pass’d through the porch, they have pass’d through the hall, Where the Porter sat snoring against the wall; The very snore froze, In his very snub nose, You’d have verily deem’d he had snored his last When the Glorious HAND by the side of him pass’d! E’en the little wee mouse, as it ran o’er the mat At the top of its speed to escape from the cat, Though half dead with affright, Paused in its flight; And the cat that was chasing that little wee thing Lay crouch’d as a statue in act to spring! And now they are there, On the head of the stair, And the long crooked whittle is gleaming and bare, — I really don’t think any money would bribe Me the horrible scene that ensued to describe, Or the wild, wild glare Of that old man’s eye, His dumb despair, And deep agony. The kid from the pen, and the lamb from the fold, Unmoved may the blade of the butcher behold; They dream not — ah, happier they!— that the knife, Though uplifted, can menace their innocent life; It falls;— the frail thread of their being is riven, They dread not, suspect not, the blow till ‘tis given.— But, oh! what a thing ‘tis to see and to know That the bare knife is raised in the hand of the foe, Without hope to repel, or to ward off the blow!— — Enough!— let ‘s pass over as fast as we can The fate of that grey, that unhappy old man! But fancy poor Hugh, Aghast at the view, Powerless alike to speak or to do! In vain doth be try To open the eye That is shut, or close that which is clapt to the chink, Though he’d give all the world to be able to wink!— No!— for all that this world can give or refuse, I would not be now in that little boy’s shoes, Or indeed any garment at all that is Hugh’s! —' Tis lucky for him that the chink in the wall He has peep’d through so long, is so narrow and small. Wailing voices, sounds of woe Such as follow departing friends, That fatal night round Tappington go, Its long-drawn roofs and its gable ends: Ethereal Spirits, gentle and good, Aye weep and lament o’er a deed of blood. ‘Tis early dawn — the morn is grey, And the clouds and the tempest have pass’d away, And all things betoken a very fine day; But, while the lark her carol is singing, Shrieks and screams are through Tappington ringing! Upstarting all, Great and small Each one who ‘s found within Tappington Hall, Gentle and Simple, Squire or Groom, All seek at once that old Gentleman’s room; And there, on the floor, Drench’d in its gore, A ghastly corpse lies exposed to the view, Carotid and jugular both cut through! And there, by its side, ‘Mid the crimson tide, Kneels a little Foot-page of tenderest years; Adown his pale cheek the fast-falling tears Are coursing each other round and big, And he ‘s staunching the blood with a full-bottom’d wig! Alas! and alack for his staunching!—‘tis plain, As anatomists tell us, that never again Shall life revisit the foully slain, When once they’ve been cut through the jugular vein. There’s a hue and a cry through the County of Kent, And in chase of the cut-throats a Constable’s sent, But no one can tell the man which way they went: There’s a little Foot-page with that Constable goes, And a little pug-dog with a little pug nose. In Rochester town, At the sign of the Crown, Three shabby-genteel men are just sitting down To a fat stubble-goose, with potatoes done brown; When a little Foot-page Rushes in, in a rage, Upsetting the apple-sauce, onions, and sage. That little Foot-page takes the first by the throat, And a little pug-dog takes the next by the coat, And a Constable seizes the one more remote; And fair rose-nobles and broad moidores, The Waiter pulls out of their pockets by scores, And the Boots and the Chambermaids run in and stare; And the Constable says, with a dignified air, ‘You’re wanted, Gen’lemen, one and all, For that ‘ere precious lark at Tappington Hall!' There ‘a a black gibbet frowns upon Tappington Moor, Where a former black gibbet has frown’d before: It is as black as black may be, And murderers there Are dangling in air, By one!— by two!— by three! There ‘s a horrid old hag in a steeple-crown’d hat, Round her neck they have tied to a hempen cravat A Dead Man’s hand, and a dead Tom Cat! They have tied up her thumbs, they have tied up her toes, They have tied up her eyes, they have tied up her limbs! Into Tappington mill-dam souse she goes, With a whoop and a halloo!—‘She swims!— She swims!' They have dragg’d her to land, And every one’s hand Is grasping a faggot, a billet, or brand, When a queer-looking horseman, drest all in black, Snatches up that old harridan just like a sack To the crupper behind him, puts spurs to his hack, Makes a dash through the crowd, and is off in a crack! No one can tell, Though they guess pretty well, Which way that grim rider and old woman go, For all see he ‘s a sort of infernal Ducrow; And she scream’d so, and cried, We may fairly decide That the old woman did not much relish her ride! The Hand of Glory - Richard Barham. The Auld Grump - not exactly a new poem, that....
  20. In the past, I have used a more dangerous stripper - brake fluid. But since I now live in a house with cats, that is a no-no. The Auld Grump
  21. Or not so temporarily - only one of them, besides Megan has ever danced Swing - and that is Annie, in her sixties. So, we ended up going out to the boardwalk, above the river, and got a quick lesson in. I had to call Dennis (the Younger) to help with that - he is a lot better at teaching dancing than I am. He will be playing Bonami tomorrow night, he and Jenny know each other, and they are about the same age... I think. (Things I am not good at #57 - guessing ages.) Megan and I got some applause by onlookers, and Annie said that now she understands why Megan and I are together. So, I will need to tack on a game or two after the dance tomorrow, since the plot was abandoned in favor of dancing on a boardwalk. The Auld Grump - no regular games next week - the retreat.
  22. Just a place to show music videos with magical, fantastic, superheroic, or science fiction elements. Starting with some... Skrillex? (Not my normal fare.) It came up with Megan, so now I am seeing what others have, and I will be adding more as I find my links... hidden in the depths of the interwebs. Not so much looking for songs with a bunch of fantasy stills, but animation or even footage from video games would work, even World of Warcraft. Or Muppets.... The Auld Grump.
  23. Tonight's game has been temporarily derailed by costume design talk - Megan is modeling her costume, and I need to change into mine. The Auld Grump - Megan is suggesting that I add the kilt. (Oi fink she likes me knees.)
  24. The costume theme for our two characters - two dwarfs that are trying to have a romantic dancing date - and neither quite 'getting it'. Megan will be wearing her swishy beaded black dress - with her Doc Martins, I will be wearing a tuxedo shirt - with chains running from wrists to above the elbows, and as suspenders. Both of us with smithing hammers and work aprons over our dancing duds. I predict that I will have bruised shins come Sunday morning. The Auld Grump - it took us a disturbingly short time coming up with our costumes.... *EDIT* Saturday's game is taking the place of the regular Pathfinder game, cancelled due to Pennsic.
  25. Live

    Hmmm classes for Brigid when she's old enough... we can raise our own sculptor.... *Ducks* The Auld Grump