Deadlands readthrough: The Quick & the Dead

Previously on our Deadlands readthrough:

Howdy, parrrrrdner! We’re heading back on the trail, and this time we’re going to be riding all over, because this time we’re covering the overall setting book for Deadlands, none-too-informatively titled The Quick & the Dead. It’s honestly all but required reading, because the core book was rather sparse with its setting info – in most books the introduction gives you a teaser of what the setting is like and then it gets filled in later in the book, but in the Deadlands core the teaser was all the description we ever got about the complex alternate history setting of the game. Mostly what we learned was that the Civil War is still ongoing, there’s a major gold rush in California after half of it fell into the sea, and magic and weird science are both running rampant and are powered by evil manitou. Let’s see if we can get a little more meat on our bones this time.

I am pleased to report that unlike last time, the cover art doesn’t lie to us – there really is an instance in the book of giant sand worms chasing steam cars across mountains shaped like tormented sinners. About time I got my money’s worth!

We start out with a bunch of rule tweaks and new Edges and Hindrances, presumably on the principle that they need to go somewhere. They’re okay, nothing much to talk about. I do note that there is a Hindrance called Ferner that makes you not fit in with the local culture, and there’s an Edge called Kemosabe that makes you fit in with the local culture, and I’d kind of like to know what happens if you take neither of them. Like, what’s the baseline of fitting in, here? Oh well.

There’s also an Edge called Veteran of the Weird West that gives you a bunch of extra points at the cost of a randomised effect which can be a punishing Hindrance or something even worse. So it’s basically drawing a Joker when assigning Traits, only by choice. I guess I can see how it might be used if you want to be a jaded old-timer rather than a greenhorn.

There are specific rules for revolver duels. I dunno, I thought the basic system already covered it pretty well, but okay.

We get a bunch of new premade characters, which is always nice. These seem to be a little more down to earth than the one in the core – like, you get a snake-oil salesman instead of a mad scientist, a card sharp instead of a huckster, that kind of thing. So I guess the idea is that they led with their more colourful options, and now they’re fleshing it out with some more general ones. That’s cool. I do note that while these characters are all ones that would fit into a Wild West story, they do not necessarily fit well into a group of wandering adventurers – a sheriff would be bound to a particular town, a spy would be getting specific missions, etc. Ah well. I guess you can always use the given stats and claim that they represent the job you just quit.

Now for the meat that comes with the spaghetti! The player-available section is meant to be a gazetteer written by Lacy O’Malley, last mentioned briefly in the core as one of the few men to have survived an encounter with a Hanging Judge. He writes for the Tombstone Epitath, which is a sort of tabloid that no one really believes in but are actually right about most of the crazy things going on in the Weird West. The paper’s motto is “Believe It or Else!” Heh. Anyway, every section that the players get to read has a reference to a later section that the players don’t get to read, and I’ll cover them together to make it less confusing. Here goes.

Jefferson Davis of the Confederacy launched a big offensive towards Washington in ’71, making heavy use of mad science gizmos developed in a base in Roswell, New Mexico. It had a lot of early success, but the Confederacy pushed too hard, resulting in a lot of mad scientists going crazy or deserting and the campaign petering out. The Union also raided Roswell, stealing a lot of cool crap, so Davis arranged to have the surface of Roswell wiped out by a massive explosion and the area around it covered in ever-burning ghost rock, claiming that it was an accident. The base is still active underground and the site for a lot of Confederate R&D, but now no one knows it’s there and aren’t particularly keen to go exploring through the burning inferno around it.

Following all that, both sides realised that the Civil War would be won or lost on mad science and access to ghost rock, so they started racing to establish train connections to the Great Maze in California. They have both promised huge bennies to whichever rail company can get there first, so of course a whole bunch of them are sabotaging each other like crazy, blowing up each other’s rails, robbing each other’s trains, shooting each other’s workers, and whatever other underhanded methods they can think of. A lot of trains are now sporting heavy armour and cannons as a result, for some bizarre visuals.

There are six railroads who have a realistic chance of winning. Bayou Vermillion is run by a New Orleans voodoo king named Simone LaCroix. He has zombies laying rail for him, and anyone who attacks him is likely to be added to them. Black River is run by a ruthless girlboss named Mina Devlin who has an all-female bands of gunslingers called the Wichita Witches who aim for the groin. She also practices black magic on the side. Iron Dragon belongs to a Chinese warlord named Kang. He has the distinction of having made a deal with the Sioux for passage through their territory, something he got by dealing with some kind of monsters at a place called Devil’s Tower. Slightly more about that later.

Wasatch is owned by Darius Hellstromme, the Weird West’s premier mad scientist, based out of Salt Lake City. He’s less interested in winning than in getting a chance to field test some of his more sinister creations. Dixie Rails and Union Blue is the Confederate and Union company, respectively, with the former owned by former General Robert E Lee and the latter by Joshua Chamberlain. Dixie Rails does well when Lee has time to manage it himself, but he keeps having to delegate it to his idiot nephew, at which point it lags behind. Union Blue is doing worst overall, because Chamberlain is trying to be honourable and upright about the race for the west, and that’s never going to work.

Union President Ulysses Grant and Confederate President Jefferson Davis are both up for re-election. Davis is planning a major offensive to get an excuse to declare martial law and hang on to power a bit longer. Except he’s not actually Davis anymore – he’s been replaced by an evil doppelganger who just wants to cause as much death and destruction as possible. Lee is suspicious of him and is tempted to launch his own run for President, but of course if he does that Dixie Rails is definitely going to crash and burn.

There is some helpful advice about travel. Stage coaches are faster and more comfortable than riding, and taking the train is best of all where there’s a line. Just keep in mind all that stuff we just talked about where the rail companies are in a state of war, so that option might get eventful too. Paper money is iffy since no one is sure which side will win the Civil War and render the legal tender of the other worthless, so gold and silver coins are best. Telegraphs offer quick communication, but don’t trust them too much, since the Reckoning they’ve got gremlins in them that mess with the messages.

The Pinkerton Detective Agency has been tasked by the Union to investigate weird stuff and hush it up (Lacy O’Malley is understandably not happy about it). They are especially interested in Harrowed, and have a special facility in Denver where they can semi-reliably bring the human in a Harrowed to the fore and offer to recruit them. If they aren’t interested, or the attempt fails, it’s kill-it-with-fire time, of course. The Pinkertons are led by Harrowed Abraham Lincoln (yes, really), who has special, hand-picked agents called Spooks who stride around in black dusters and scowl grimly at people.

The Texas Rangers are similar to the Pinkertons, except for operating in the South instead of the North, and lacking the aforementioned special assets and colourful leadership. They still try to recruit Harrowed when they can, though.

In the Great North-West (Washington, Idaho and Oregon) you get Sasquatches, Wendigos and Wolflings. Sasquatches and Wolflings are non-supernatural abhuman races, looking like great big apes and great big humanoid wolves, respectively. Sasquatches really hate Wendigos and the two fight a bitter war in the wilderness every winter, with the Wendigos prass-ganging Wolflings as cannon fodder. You become a Wendigo by eating human flesh – a white Wendigo if the flesh belonged to your kin, a black Wendigo if it belonged to someone else. If you instead withhold food from someone who is starving, you might become a winged Wendigo. Since Sasquatches are against more Wendigos being created, if they spot someone moving through their lands looking hungry, they’ll try to sneak them some food without being seen – though if they catch someone attempting cannibalism, they’ll forego all subtlety and just kill them.

The High Plains (Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska and Dakota) contain the Badlands, where you get giant bats swooping down and snatching you up. Worse than that is Worm Canyon, where there’s a cult of black magicians who worship the giant worms that live there. They have to sacrifice one victim to the worms every month, or the worms take one of their own number instead, so the cult has spread the rumour that there’s gold in the canyon. When someone gets sacrificed to the worms, one of the hills assume his tortured likeness within a few hours. See the cover picture, it’s awesome.

The High Plains are also the site of Devil’s Tower, and the Black Hills where people dig for ghost rock. Devil’s Tower, if you recall, was the place where Kang went and did something cool so that the Sioux would give him leave to lay his railroad through their lands (to carry the ghost rock from the Black Hills, natch). The book is being annoyingly coy about just what’s going on here – “tee hee, you’ll have to keep your players away from here for a little longer,” nyyyyyeeeehhhh bite me – but apparently it has something to do with mad science and giant scaly bears with machinery on their backs that controls them. Yeah, I don’t know.

Yellowstone, also on the High Plains, has a portal to the Hunting Grounds in it. Manitou and nature spirit sometimes wander out, making things around there very strange. It appears not to be the same portal that Raven used to enter the Hunting Grounds to slay the Old Ones and cause the Reckoning, so I guess there’s more than one.

The Disputed Lands (Kansas, Oklahoma, Colorado and Utah) are the borderlands between the North and the South and thus the site of much bitter fighting – not just between the regular armies, but between outlaws and militias who claim to stand with one side or the other. Famous outlaw Bill Quantrill (never heard of him, but I guess he’s famous?) has come back as a Harrowed with the ability to summon a band of spectral warriors. When his human side takes over, he flees from them and tries to find his old pal Jesse James, who he hopes can help him. When the manitou takes over, he rejoins them and they go on a rampage again. There is also a mysterious gunslinger called the Revenant who rides into town and calls out the foremost lawman there, shoots him, and leaves. The Revenant is actually a sort of embodiment of lawlessness and crime, can only be killed by being shot in the heart by a lawman, and has stats up through the stratosphere.

Salt Lake City has become “the City of Gloom” from all the pollution caused by factories built by the mad scientists who congregate there. The foremost one is, again, Darius Hellstromme, who has figured out that the Weird West runs on fear and is doing horrific experiments with it. In one notable instance, he elminated a monster infestation of a town, and then created a new one to replace it, to see what would happen with the fear level if the source of it get exchanged. He’s got labs all along the rails of his company, Wasatch, and scary things occasionally escape from them. A bunch of Mormons have figured out that he’s a jerk, but since he’s considered the city’s great benefactor – he invented the steam wagons that lets people outrun the sand worms in the desert when entering and leaving the city – they have to keep it quiet for now. They have formed an organisation called the Danites to work against Hellstromme in secret. Also, some people are hunting those sand worms by dropping dynamite on them from flying contraptions, which I felt deserved to be mentioned.

California is even more disputed than those other states – both the Union and the Confederacy claim it, especially since the Great Maze by the coast has a ton of gold, silver and ghost rock in it. Both of them have armies in the area and fleets in the sea outside, and in addition to that, there are Chinese warlords (like the aforementioned Kang) and a Mexican armada raiding back and forth. General Santa Anna has also come up from Mexico at the head of an army, most of which consists of zombies run by an immortal Aztec wizards he’s somehow befriended.

Perched just off the Great Maze is the City of Lost Angels, ruled by a mad preacher named Ezekiah Grimme. He’s actually an abomination in human form who uses black magic to cause a famine throughout the region and then has his goons snatch up people no one will miss (and in the middle of a gold rush with plenty of transients and down-and-outs, there are always plenty of those) and cook them into a feast after his weekly sermons, making sure that all the serving people in the area remain pathetically grateful to him. Urk. His inner circle have the power to throw specially consecrated bones on the ground and have them transform into half-skeletal slaves called Bloody Ones. Even more urk. Also, Grimme’s magic prevents people who attend his feasts from becoming Wendigos, since otherwise it’d get a little obvious.

The Great Basin consists of southern California and Nevada. It holds Death Valley, which is haunted by a band of specters consisting of skulls with glowing eyes clad in black cloaks. A prospector named Pogo Joe had his entire team wiped out by them, but he managed to bounce away from them on his titular mad science contraption. There is also the Devil’s Postpiles, where people you bury have an enhanced chance of coming back as Harrowed, but they always come back with the manitou in full control. Also, all the people who were buried there but didn’t become Harrowed rise temporarily along with a new Harrowed and join it in slaughtering whomever buried it.

Fort 51 is where the Union’s colourful 10th Cavalry Regiment, “the Flying Buffalos.” They use mad science rocket packs in battle, and weird lights seen above Fort 51 at night is supposedly them training. In actuality, Fort 51 is the Union’s equivalent of Roswell, where they develop all their craziest crap. The Flying Buffalos really are stationed there as security, though.

The Mojave Desert! It has sand worms (“Mojave Rattlers” – they don’t rattle, but anyone who sees them soon start quivering) in it. That’s about it. I feel like those critters are more interestingly used in the last two places we saw them…

The Grand Canyon is haunted by the Crushed Man, who’s the ghost of a white man who ran off with an Indian girl but got captured and thrown off a cliff by the warrior she was promised to. Now he roams around, grabs hold of travelers and jumps off a cliff with them in his arms. The only way to kill him is with an arrow made from the bones of his murderer, feathered by a scrap of the dress of his beloved. Oh, and there’s also a gang of outlaws called the Laughing Men, but they kind of pale in comparison, I feel.

The dead of a small Texan town recently rose from the dead and staged a localised zombie apocalypse. It was actually due to a Bayou Vermillion train crashing and spilling its cargo of zombie juice. This is bound to happen again sooner or later.

Remember those prairie ticks from the core? To those you can add the Texas Tummy Twisters, which are a parasite infection that you get from drinking tainted water. They grow in your stomach and then hijack your spinal cord, making you stagger around as a puppet and trying to infect other people. They can kinda-sorta see through your eyes, but they prefer opening a discreet hole in your belly and peeking out through it. I think I am permanently traumatised by the whole idea and I love it.

The Sioux Nation, covering parts of the High Plains, is ruled by the four wicasas, representing the four prominent tribes of the Nation. Three of them want peace with the white man and a return to “the Old Ways” of pleasing the nature spirits and using absolutely no technology. The fourth is Sitting Bull, who is spoiling for a fight and very willing to use the white man’s weapons against him. He was the one who made the deal with Kang to allow him to lay rail through the Sioux Nation, with the secret agreement that Kang would also covertly deliver weapons to Bull. Bull’s followers call themselves the Order of the Raven, which is a not-particularly-subtle hint that Raven is around, whispering in Bull’s ear. Bull is waiting for the presence of the Deadwood mining camp and the mining in the Black Hills to result in an inevitable diplomatic incident between white men and Indians, and then he’ll use that to start his war.

The Sioux don’t let any white men roam around freely – they can only come and go by the Iron Dragon railroad, and they can only mine in parts of the hills they’ve been approved for. Anyone caught trespassing gets nailed to a spear along the road to Deadwood. Also, on rainy nights the corpses get down from their spears and go hunting for more white men to add to their number, which is a nice touch.

The Coyote Confederation in Oklahoma is the southern equivalent of the Sioux Nation. It’s ruled by a mysterious shaman known as Coyote, advised by tribal chieftains Quanah Parker and Satanta. Coyote and Satanta follow the Old Ways, while Parker has taken to guns in a big way. The Confederation is chummy with the Confederacy and keeps raiding Union sympathisers in the Disputed Lands.

Coyote (or Isatai, as his mother called him) hides his face inside a red hood and his name behind the Coyote title, because he had a vision from the mythical trickster Coyote saying that he’d lead the people to greatness by doing so. The vision was actually from Raven, and the mystery act is to make it easier for Raven to assassinate Isatai and take his place as Coyote if he started getting difficult. Man. Raven is kind of an asshole.

The Apaches under Geronimo are harassing Confederate ghost rock shipments in Arizona. They are assisted by the fact that the previous war leader, Conchise, has mentally entered the Hunting Grounds and bound a powerful nature spirit to his service, granting the Apache preternatural stealth skills for as long as his physical body remains alive, after which he’ll serve the spirit for eternity. That’s kind of poignant.

Deadwood, Tombstone and Dodge City get special writeups – not because they are the most significant of places, the book admits, but because they’re the Wild-Westiest. Deadwood, in Dakota, is in the middle of the Sioux Nation but connected to the outside by the Iron Dragon railroad and exists to service miners digging for ghost rock in the Black Hills. A big ghost rock vein to the south was accidentally ignited at some point, and it’s still burning – the smoke is ever-present, and on days when the wind is in the right direction, you can hear the wail of burning ghost rock. Oooh, creepy. Just generally, everyone in town is in a state of nervous frenzy from knowing that the Sioux could decide to wipe it off the map at any time.

Frontier legend Wild Bill Hickok was recently bushwacked by a no-good skunk, and has risen as a Harrowed (seriously, do any famous people just die in this game?!) and is looking to reclaim his six-shooters with the help of his old friend Calamity Jane. Kang is smuggling opium into Deadwood on his railroad. A bunch of ne’er-do-wells loyal to General Custer are sneaking around the woods killing Sioux.

Having seen all three seasons of HBO’s Deadwood, I’ll admit that I’m somewhat amused at the idea of having Al Svearingen turn up and rant about how much he hates these rotting Harrowed COCKSUCKERS!!!!

Dodge City in Kansas is composed of equal parts North and South loyalists, all there to get rich by hunting buffalo, and is about as terminally exciting a place as you might imagine from that (running joke: why is the town called “Dodge”? Because if you want to survive there, better get used to doing it!). Also, the Union Blue and Black River railroads have both reached Dodge and is working to proceed west from it while fighting each other relentlessly, the Union and the Confederacy both have a ton of spies here scheming against each other, and the Coyote Confederation is right next door and strongly disapprove of white men over-hunting buffalo. There’s a lot of ways to get killed here, is what I’m saying. On the bright side, Wyatt Earp and his giant moustache is working as a deputy and determined to Clean Up Dodge.

It’s kind of light on supernatural menaces, though – the only thing mentioned is that there are ghouls living in caves who come out at night to eat corpses. They’re too chicken to be dangerous to the living, unless you try to follow them home.

Tombstone in Arizona is connected to the Bayou Vermillion railroad and is the eastern endpoint for the “Ghost Trail” to the Great Maze. It’s hassled by the Apache and the French Foreign Legion (working out of Mexico) alike, and the closest thing to a law in town comes from a gang called the Cowboys. They’re opposed by Doc Holliday, who freaks them out because he’s dying anyway so he doesn’t give a shit, and also if they shot him his mate Wyatt Earp would hear about it and might be mad enough to get over there and raise a fuss.

Tombstone also houses the home office of the Tombstone Epitath, covering such weird occurrences as a group of undead conquistadores who keep trying to rob travelers of their “stolen silver” around town. The reason being that they were cursed by an Indian shaman whose people they’d enslaved to mine silver for them, and now they can’t rest until they’ve replaced as much silver as they extorted from the Indians. They can’t actually attack anyone who doesn’t carry silver, so that’s a plus.

The in-character section ends with a mention that America isn’t the only place where everything has gone wonky – all other parts of the world are seeing monsters and magic arise too.

After that, we get the “No Man’s Land” of semi-secrets. First off is Knacks, which you can take like Edges at character creation, but never after that since they represent some occult circumstance at your birth or early childhood (like being born with a caul across your face). They all give you some reasonably nifty ability that you can activate by spending a chip, with varying effects depending on the colour chip you spend (like ignoring some amount of fall damage for a white chip, seeing in the dark for a red chip, and negating all damage taken from an attack for a blue chip).

After that we get relics, which are supernatural items that seem to have been charged with some kind of strange energy from their legendary history. They are generally weapons for good rather than being secretly powered by the Reckoners like most other magic, though some can be decidedly creepy – for instance, the Sword of Cortez does a ton of damage, but the more you use it, the more your right arm starts oozing blood until you’re dripping it everywhere you go. Mmm, cool, I guess, but I am not much for extra-special magic items – it’s so hard to figure out how often, and in what way, you should give the players a chance to get hold of them.

The final chapter in the super-secret part of the book (remember, we went through most of it at the same time as the player-facing ones!) concerns black magic, which is special powers that only baddies can have. What, the magic that players can get wasn’t skeevy enough?! Anyway, it’s super-easy to use because the Reckoners want it to work, and also it’s a cheaty NPC thing so of course it’s going to be better than anything the players get. The kind of powers it provides are fairly standard magic stuff, like dealing damage or making you invisible. Somewhat interestingly, the powers are described purely mechanically and the GM is instructed to supply “trappings” that explain just what form it takes for a particular villain (e.g., whether a damage-dealing spell creates a blast of black lightning or causes the target’s internal blood vessels to burst). So this is the origin of that idea for Savage Worlds, I guess.

So that’s it. Okay, pretty decent stuff. Not very easy to get an overview of, though – even with me mushing the IC and OOC information together, you probably noticed that I had to go back over past information a lot. For example, I had to explain Kang once as relating to the railroads, once as relating to the Great Maze, once as relating to Dakota in general and then again as relating to Deadwood in particular. Now, double that for the IC-OOC split, and you can see that you have to skip back and forth like crazy to get some sort of overview on Mr. Kang.

But, that aside, I feel like we have a better idea of the setting now. Next time we’ll delve into Book o’ the Dead, which detail the Harrowed.

Deadlands readthrough: Marshal Law

Having read through the impressively detailed if somewhat intimidating core rulebook of Deadlands: the Weird West, today we delve into the first published adventures. Strap on your six shooters and fix your grim gunslinger scowl on your face, because it’s off to the frontier to gun down some varmints!

I am sorry to say that nothing as cool as the cover art is going to happen… Anyway, the book is divided into two stand-alone adventures, This Harrowed Ground and Ghostriders in the Sky.

In This Harrowed Ground the party… sorry, posse (yes, still a bit exasperated by Deadlands’ insistence of having cutesy Wild West names for everything) are working as guards for a gold-and-silver collection for a major bank, and find themselves in the town of Pawnee Rock that’s gearing up for a celebration. Some years ago, the townsfolk, led by five heroic citizens and with the aid of a Union cavalry troop led by one Captain Linkous, fought off an attack by a Confederate defector named Slate, and the anniversary is coming up. The town has since made good from silver found in the hills, and the heroes of the past battle have also had the fortune of finding gold, though it’s a little strange that their gold vein is seemingly the only one to be found.

Then those five worthies start dying under mysterious circumstances, killed by what seems to be some kind of spectral figure. The players are expected to start investigating on their own accord – there isn’t anything really pulling them in, which I think might be a problem. Still, more and more of the five die, and Slate also arrives in town, apparently to settle the score.

However, all is not what it seems! Captain Linkous and his men were carrying a fortune in gold meant to fund rebels against the Confederacy, and the five “heroes” actually tipped Slate off to their presence so he and his men would attack and kill them, leaving them to steal all the gold. They’ve been living off the proceeds ever since, pretending that it’s mined from the hills (if the players examine the “nuggets” from the mine, they can discover that they are all suspiciously uniform in shape). Captain Linkous restless ghost has gotten so pissed off by the idea of his betrayers being celebrated that he’s risen from the grave and started killing them. Slate has nothing to do with anything and is really just a red herring and a possible source of information, but Linkous will take the opportunity to kill him too since he happens to be around (he gets a very badass death scene where he swears that if that wuss Linkous can come back from the dead, then the players have certainly not seen the last of him, either!).

If Linkous reaches the end of his list, he’ll raise the ghosts of his dead soldiers and storm the town to kill every living thing there. He can only be killed with his own weapons, which he will retrieve from the five traitors one by one.

In Ghostriders in the Sky, the posse arrives in a Mormon community called Planterstown. Here they might actually have a reason for getting involved, because there’s been a bounty posted for a gang called the Ghostriders who keep robbing banks and then disappearing, their tracks just ending some distance away when people try to follow them.

The Ghostriders actually used to be a traveling freak show under the patronage of a mad scientist named Higgabottom. They tried to settle in Planterstown but were driven out for being creepy and weird, so instead they created a hidden sanctuary for themselves in the mountains called Tomorrie Town, trading with some of the more pragmatic Planterstown folk on the sly. Higgabottom died in the course of an experiment and came back as a Harrowed, now looking to do as much damage as possible, and he’s been developing a horrific superweapon that will let him rain acid over entire towns. He needs funds, so he’s got his still-faithful people to rob banks for him. They “disappear” because they have a high-tech balloon kitted out to lift entire groups of horses, and they use that to make their escape as soon as night falls after a heist.

The Ghostriders will hit the bank in Planterstown in short order, making use of a dwarf named Petunia who used to be one of them but who stayed in Planterstown, which she has now come to regret. The players can run into her getting hassled by the townsfolk before the heist, and they may find one of her shoes on the scene if the Ghostriders’ disappearing tracks later. Likewise, they can run into another member of the crew buying some supplies at the general store, giving them another hint of who might know something of where Tomorrie Town is located.

How they end up resolving the situation is left undecided. The Ghostriders aren’t evil per se – they are bitter from their mistreatment and loyal to Higgabottom, since he’s always played fair with them in a world where few people do, but left to their own devices they’d have no inclination to harm anyone. All the same, Higgabottom is firmly under the control of his manitou and needs to be stopped, or he’ll start committing mass murder once his acid weapon is perfected. There is room for both deft negotiation skills resulting in a happy ending, or a grim outcome where innocents die for the crimes of the guilty.

All in all, the adventures aren’t bad. The NPCs (I forget if they’re called something special in Deadlands and frankly I can’t be bothered to check!) get sketched out quickly and efficiently, in a way that makes them feel human and nuanced without being overly complicated to portray. The towns are lovingly detailed and there’s plenty of corners for the players to look into and people who know varying amount of information about the situation, and might reveal it under certain conditions.

Still… I must admit to being a little disappointed. I was kind of hoping for a little more splatter and a little less Western, if you see what I mean? I thought there’d be more hunting down some of the colourful monsters in the book, but this is all about gritty detective work in a realistic frontier setting, with just a slight supernatural element to give it some taste. Again, I am not that into cowboy stuff. I wanted giant sand worms! And I don’t see how I was wrong to expect it, given that the cover picture is of some dude firing at a giant mutant gargoyle thing with a gatling pistol!

Still, it’s decent for what it is. Next up is a more thorough look at the setting in The Quick and the Dead.

Deadlands: the Weird West

Since I’m giving Cyberpunk a pause for now, I figure I might as well start writing up my thoughts on another series that I’m working my way through. Yes, I do in fact read even more series than I cover here. My lack of attention span is without end!

Anyway, Deadlands: the Weird West is a splatter-horror wild west game from the end of the 90s. It is actually only the first in a line of three games taking place in the same universe albeit in different time periods, the others being the post-apocalyptic Deadlands: Hell on Earth and the sci-fi Deadlands: Lost Colony. It’s famous for just how strange and colourful it was, and also unfortunately for how tightly it embraced the idea of unchangeable metaplot. It also has the distinction of being the mechanical origin of Savage Worlds, which is a mammoth in its own right.

The tagline promises “spaghetti western – with meat!”, so lets grab the ketchup and dig in…

The book starts with an in-character description of the setting, told by the first of infamously many uber-NPCs who you’re not allowed to shoot Because Plot, Coot “the Prospector” Jenkins. In particular, he’s sitting by an open grave, telling the revenant he just dug up what’s happened since he died. Gotta give credit for getting the ambience down early.

Now, since this is, as aforementioned, the kind of game that has DEEP SECRETS THAT THE PLAYERS AREN’T ALLOWED TO KNOW!!!!, the book is actually split into three sections: one that the players may read (“Posse Territory”), one that the players may read with the GM’s permission (“No Man’s Land”) and one that they are going to stay well clear of, doggonit! (“Marshal’s Handbook”) But seriously, no one was going to buy a book and then read half of it, and anyway, what if you were a player in some games and the GM in others? It’s stupid, basically. So I’ll try to give as complete an account as I can for any piece of the setting that comes up, even though a lot of the time the facts are scattered across the book.

The setting, then: it’s our own world to most appearances, but it used to be full of evil spirits called manitous that fed on fear and used it to create monsters to scare people even more. They all served some mysterious entities called the Reckoners who hung out in the Hunting Grounds (effectively hell) and were up to no good. But then in what was the Middle Ages in Europe, a group of wise and powerful Indian shamans called the Old Ones entered the Hunting Grounds, fought the manitous to a stand-still, and bound them to a pact whereby they could no longer interfere with the material world as long as the spirits of the Old Ones remained in the Hunting Grounds. So magic died off, mostly, and by 1863 everything was ticking along rather like in real history.

However, in ’63 a mad shaman named Raven, enraged by the destruction of his tribe at the hands of white men, entered the Hunting Grounds and destroyed the spirits of the Old Ones. The Reckoners were freed from their pact and sent their manitous out to wreak havoc again. Some of them crept into the heads of the recently dead and took partial control, turning them into “Harrowed.” Others began empowering a sort of occult card-sharp known as “hucksters,” giving them serious magic for the first time, or whispered in the ears of engineers and scientists to inspire them to create technology far beyond what should have been possible at the time. And some just went right back to cooking up monsters to go bump in the night.

The combination of mad science and the walking dead really confused the Civil War, so it’s still going on fifteen years later. Both the North and the South knows that something weird is going on, and have Pinkerton Detectives and Texas Rangers (respectively) running around unrooting supernatural mysteries and then hushing them up, on the basis that the more people know about what’s going on, the more terrified they’ll be and the more food they’ll create for the Reckoners.

That mad science is helped out by the discovery of “ghost rock,” a sort of superfuel that burns hotter and longer than coal and is needed for a lot of the wackier contraptions being built. A lot of it was discovered along the coast of California after much of it fell into the sea, leaving a “Great Maze” of free-standing mesas divided by water, the walls of which are full of gold, silver and ghost rock. There’s a major gold rush going on as a result.

What with both the North and the South being too exhausted from fighting each other to do some decent Manifest Destiny genicidin’, at least two groups of Indians have taken the opportunity to reclaim some land, creating the Sioux Nation in the North and the Coyote Confederation in the South. It helps that while the manitous are loose and that’s bad for everyone, the more chill nature spirits that Indian shamans traffick in have grown more plentiful too, so said shamans suddenly have some serious mojo to sling around.

Now, for the basic rules… Hooo boy. Settle in, this will take a while.

Firstly, Deadlands is determined to be cute with its naming, so nothing is named what you’re used to even when it’s something that’s familiar in concept. Deadlands doesn’t have skills, it’s got Aptitudes; Aptitudes don’t have specialties, they have Concentrations; you don’t dodge, you vamoose; you don’t get shot in the head for extra damage, it’s always in the noggin; hell, you don’t even roll dice, you roll bones! It would probably have struck me as charming back in the day, but now I’m old and tired and it makes my brain hurt.

But anyway, each of your base stats (Traits, as they are slightly-more-traditionally called here) has both a die type and a number of dice (the Concentration). I guess the die type is your raw talent and your Concentration is how reliably you use it, or something? Anyway, when you make a Trait roll, you roll a number of the Trait’s die equal to the Concentration – thus, you might have a Strength of 4d8 (Concentration 4, die type d8). Then you pick the highest die rolled and compare it to the difficulty. If it’s equal to or higher than it, that’s a success. Each multiple of 5 over the difficulty your result was also gives you a “raise” that tend to improve the outcome in some way. Dice explode, so you can hit a difficulty that’s higher than your die type, it’s just difficult. If you didn’t succeed on a single die and most of your dice rolled were 1s, you botch… sorry, go bust.

Each Aptitude is linked to a Trait and also has an Aptitude level. Aptitude rolls work the same as Trait rolls, only you use the Aptitude level in place of the Coordination. You can make unskilled rolls for Aptitudes that you don’t have using your Coordination in the Trait, but then you halve the result.

So far, so relatively simple. Then there are the Poker chips. See, you have a bunch of red, white and blue ones on the table, and the GM can hand them out to the players as a reward for roleplaying or whenever their Hindrances bite them in the ass. Spending a white chip lets you reroll a die, spending a blue chip lets you roll an extra die and add the result to your highests previous result, and spending a red chip is like spending a blue chip but it lets the GM draw a chip and use it to do the same thing for his NPCs.

And then there are the cards. We’ll get to those in a second, but for now, let’s just note that Deadlands uses a deck of playing cards, with the red and black Jokers left in, for some randomisation. Which is, a) very flavourful and wild west-y, and b) unnecessarily complicated.

Character creation starts with choosing a concept from a long list that encompasses just about any cowboy trope you can think of – gunslinger, gambler, saloon girl, journalist, snake oil salesman, greenhorn from back east, Indian brave, brimstone preacher, you name it. Add to that mad scientists and hucksters and you’re spoiled for choices. Your concept doesn’t do anything in particular but it gives you an idea where to start.

Then it’s time to break out the cards, because we’re drawing our Traits. You have ten of those, by the way, and because this is Deadlands they all have unhelpful special-snowflake names. Five of them are mental: Cognition (perception), Mien (charisma), Smarts (quick thinking), Knowledge (deep thinking) and Spirit. Five of them are physical, sorry, corporeal: Nimbleness (agility), Deftness (manual dexterity), Quickness (initiative), Strength (self-explanatory) and Vigor (stamina).

To generate them, you draw twelve cards from the deck, and each card represents a possible die-Concentration combo. Clubs is Coordination 1, Diamonds is 2, Hearts is 3 and Spades is 4. A two is worth a d4, a three to an eight is worth a d6, a nine to a Jack is a d8, a King or a Queen is a d10 and an Ace is a d12. So for example, the Ten of Hearts would be 3d8. If you draw a Joker, that’s a d12 and you draw a second card to get the Coordination, and also the GM rolls on a special table in the back of the book to determine some kind of special, spooky backstory detail that your character may or may not be aware of. It can be anything from having a sixth sense to having someone gunning for you to being one of the Harrowed.

Next, discard two of your twelve cards. You can’t discard twos or Jokers. Then distribute the rest among your Traits. Again – big on flavour, not so big on convenience.

You have a number of Aptitude points equal to the sum of your Smarts, Cognition and Knowledge dice, so you’re looking at about 20. You can use them to buy Aptitude levels or to take Edges, and you can get more of them by taking Hindrances.

Aptitudes are your basic roleplaying selection – sneak, shoot, persuade, lie, intimidate, wilderness survival, you know the drill. However, there are some that are specific to gunfights, like Fannin’ (effectively lets you turn your revolver into a machine gun until you run out of bullets), Quick-Draw and Speed Load. Also of note are Ridicule, which lets you break people’s spirits by cracking wise about them. Think that one turned into Taunt in Savage Worlds.

Hindrances are special weaknesses that give you more points to spend on Aptitudes, depending on their severity, and also rewards you with chips when they come up in play. Ones that stand out are Ailin’ (lets you have some sort of sickness; the highest one lets you play a Doc Holliday type who is gonna die, it’s just a matter of when), Tinhorn which makes you an unpopular nerd, and Ferner that makes you some kind of even-more-unpopular minority. Most of them are just what you’d expect from a disavantage system, but a lot of them have cutesy names that make them a little hard to keep track of. I guess I can figure out from the name what Kid or Heroic mean, but I keep having to look up that Hankerin’ is an addiction, Yeller means you’re cowardly, and One-Armed Bandit means that, well, you’ve got one arm.

Edges are the opposite, giving you special powers. The naming is even more annoying here. We have Dinero, Purdy, “The Stare”… Look, I’m not saying I can’t figure them out with some thinking, but it’d be a lot easier to parse an NPC statblock at a glance if they were called things like Wealth, Attractive and Frightening Appearance, all right? One Edge of particular note is Arcane Background, which lets you start as a huckster, mad scientist, shaman or religious miracle-worker (yes, those exist too, and every religion is apparently true all at once, in addition to the whole nature spirits / Hunting Grounds / Reckoners mythology).

Finally, you’re instructed to write down your character’s worst nightmare. We’re not told why here, but it’s actually because if he dies, he might come back as a Harrowed, and then his manitou will put him through that worst nightmare to try to usurp control of his body.

Combat is… amazingly involved. First, at the start of every round you make a Quickness roll, and you draw a card for each success and raise, plus one card. If you go bust you get no cards at all. Each card is one action you can take in the round. The GM counts down from Aces to Twos, and when one of your cards comes up you get to take an action. If more than one character has a card of the same number, ties are broken by colour, with Spades going first and Clubs going last. You can also choose to stuff a card “up your sleeve” when you would normally act on it, in which case you can play it at any time from then on and take an immediate action. You can only have one card up your sleeve at the time. If you draw a red Joker, you can use it to go at any time in that round, though you can’t put it up your sleeve. If you draw a black Joker, it’s not worth an action and you immediately lose your highest other card.

You can move a number of meters equal to your Nimbleness die over the course of an entire round without spending an action on it, though you have to break it up as evenly as possible across your number of actions. So if you have Nimbleness d8 and you’ve drawn three cards that round, you can move 3 meters on one action, 3 on a second action, and 2 on a third. You can also run twice that far by accepting a -4 penalty to your actions, or “pick up the pace” to go that far plus 1d4 at the cost of 1 Wind.

Oh yeah, about that – you have a stat called Wind that is basically your endurance, and your maximum Wind is your Vigor die plus your Spirit die, so something along the lines of 12. It’s not quite hit points because that’d be too simple. We’ll get to it.

You can perform “tests of will” against enemies by scaring, bluff, or mocking them. That lets you roll Bluff, Overawe or Ridicule against their Scrutinize, Guts or Ridicule respectively. Count your successes and raises and subtract his from yours; if you win by one he gets -4 on his next action, if you win by two he also loses his highest current card, and if you win by three or more you also get to draw a chip. Okay, I admit it, I’m actually hearing that “bararararam – baam baam baam” revolver duel music in my head now…

Attacking has a lot of special rules – shotguns, gatling guns, spin-reloading rifles with one hand, fanning, drawin’ a bead (also known as aiming, guys!) and so on and so forth – but what it mostly comes down to is that you roll Shootin’: specific weapon against a regular target number and if you succeed you hit and do damage. Melee is the same, only there the opponent can add his Aptitude in fighting’: whatever melee weapon he’s wielding to the target number. The opponent can always discard his highest currently held card to “vamoose” (I swear…), in which case he gets to roll dodge (the Aptitude is called dodge even though you use it to “vamoose,” just to make it more obnoxious!) and his result becomes the target number to hitting him if that would be higher than the regular one.

Hit locations are determined randomly unless something has been specifically targeted, with some modifiers to make certain results more probable in certain situations (melee attacks are less likely to hit the legs and more likely to hit the head, eh, noggin, for instance). A hit to the noggin or the gizzards (vitals; located somewhere in the middle of the range) does extra damage.

Certain parts of you may be in cover, like if you’re ducking behind a corner. If an attack hits an area that’s in cover, then there’s a 50% chance that it’ll be deflected entirely, 50% chance that it will have its damage die reduced by a number of steps determined by the cover’s type and material, possibly negating it entirely. So find something to put between you and any bullets flying your way, basically.

If you do get hit, you roll damage for the weapon and compare it to your Size, which is 6 for a regular adults. Every multiple of your Size in damage causes a level of wound in the part you were injured in. You take a penalty to all actions determined by the highest wound level you are currently suffering from. Five levels in any body part means that it’s irrepairably destroyed – you lose a limb or die, depending on where it is.

When you take a wound, you have to roll Vigor to avoid being stunned and unable to take any actions until you can succeed at another Vigor roll. In addition, each wound level you take costs you 1d6 Wind, and if you reach 0 Wind you pass out. When you take a Serious (three levels) wound anywhere, you also start losing 1 point of Wind per round until someone can administer some first aid.

Wind comes back automatically within a few minutes, but recovering from wounds (absent magical healing, which is not what you’d call readily available in this setting) takes five days and a Vigor roll against a target number determined by how serious the wound was. If you get shot, you’ll be out of comission for a while, basically.

All in all, I am impressed by this system in theory, but I whimper at the thought of actually running it. The card-based initiative, in particular, looks like it could lend itself to some tactics that just aren’t possible in a one-action-per-turn system – for instance, you could use one action to put your opponent in a disadvantage, then pull a card from your sleeve and take another to press your advantage before he could recover. And dear lord, they have certainly gone all out to include rules for every Western trope there is! You could have some fun with this one, definitely… once you’d spent the better part of six months really internalising the whole thing so you didn’t have to keep looking things up, that is. I’m… unsurprised that Savage Worlds took the basic ideas and simplified them within an inch of their lives.

Hucksters! They cast spells by playing Poker in their head against manitous. No, really, that’s literally what they do. This is represented by them having to make first a roll for the particular spell they want to cast (each one is a separate Aptitude) and then, if they succeed, drawing five cards, plus one per raise on the roll. Then they build the best Poker hand they can from them, and it determines how well the spell worked (which can still be “not at all” if they didn’t get a good enough hand). Jokers can stand in for any other card, but also when you draw one something bad happens, and the bad thing that happens can also include the spell failing.

So basically, what it looks like to me is that huckster spells usually fails, and even when they succeed they either have very weak effects (like being able to teleport five yards to a position you can see and which is shrouded in shadow… yeah, I can think of some uses for that, but none that are worth risking my immortal soul for, you know?) or come at the cost of going insane. Yeah… this is kind of weak, frankly. I mean, I’m sure the justification is, “well, the bad odds is what makes it a gamble, see?”, but with the odds that bad, you’d be a fool to play. Too bad, because it’s a really cool magic system in theory, but meh.

Mad scientists aren’t much better off. They can invent just about anything you can think of, in theory, but in practice it takes a very long time and they have the same card-based system that hucksters do, and you need a pretty good hand to build anything that isn’t just “a slightly better gun.” And again, if you draw a Joker – and you almost have to draw a Joker to build a decent hand – you got insane in the membrane. Which is, admittedly, what makes you a mad scientist, but still, you’re going to need to play for a really long time if you want to come up with any sort of worthwhile invention.

Anyway, some examples of gizmos that exist in the Weird West already are flamethrowers, steam wagons, rocket packs and bullet-proof wests. I think I’d rather just save up and buy some of this stuff than try to be someone who builds it, though.

The blessed – religious miracleworkers – are more solid. They have a single skill called Faith that lets them learn and use miracles. Miracles are fairly decent, doing things like healing, buffing and granting protection. The only catch is that the blessed must always adhere to their religion or their powers might go away, but still, these guys seem to have a magic system that’s actually worth the effort.

Shamans are a bit quirkier. Their craft breaks down into rituals and favours. By performing rituals they build up spiritual goodwill that they can then use to fuel one of their favours. The favour usually has to be invoked immediately, except there is a special favour that lets you bind it in a fetish and invoke it at your leisure.

The rituals range from the extremely convenient (promise to honour Nature – which it is noted that you’re probably already doing, so it’s essentially a freebie) to the once-in-a-lifetime desperate measures (cut off a limb). You can only use a ritual once to try to build up mojo for a particular casting, but you can use several rituals on the same casting, so you can e.g. dance, fast and scar yourself in sequence and then invoke a favour drawing on it.

The favours are handy but not overwhelming – they let you do things like heal wounds, sense-ride a nearby bird of prey, buff a projectile attack, or make lightning strike during a rainstorm. Some of them you almost need the save-for-later favour to make full use of, others might be more viable to spend some time preparing.

All in all, I think you’d need to be a little tactical with shamanism, but it’s certainly doable. You do take a penalty if you ever use technological or manufactured items, though, so there’s a cost.

The Harrowed! When someone of sufficient will and strength dies, you draw a few cards, and if one is a Joker, he comes back as a Harrowed. That means that he’s an icky walking corpse and he’s sharing his head with a manitou that keeps trying to take over. The Harrowed and the manitou compete over a pool of Dominion points, and whichever has the majority is in control of the body. Harrowed aren’t aware of what’s going on when the manitou is in charge, but the manitou sees and hears everything the Harrowed does. The manitou is basically evil incarnate and enjoys killing and torturing things, and is only kept in check by not wanting to be burned at the stake.

Harrowed do get access to cool powers like the ability to grow slashing claws, walking through walls, or sucking someone’s Wind out of them. They are also incredibly hard to kill – you need to inflict five wound levels on the (sigh) noggin, or else they’ll eventually regenerate. In addition, when they are present at the death of a supernatural monster they can “count coup” and absorb some of the monster’s power to gain some specially tailored abilities.

I must admit that the White Wolf fanboy in me is attracted by the idea of playing a theoretically noble monster with cool dark powers that occasionally loses control and turns evil…

Fear! Every area in the setting has a Fear Level between 0 and 6. The higher than Fear Level, the more powerful monsters are, and the harder it is to resist the shock of seeing something horrific. Monsters lurk around in the shadows and try to spread some subtle fear and dread so that the Fear Level rises. Killing the monster and spreading a compelling a story about it lowers the Fear Level and also permanently puts a special chip in the pot that can be spent for extra effects when you happen to draw it. Screwing up the story makes the Fear Level worse, though, which is why Pinkertons and Texas Rangers are against that sort of thing.

We get a musty collection of monsters. There are giant bats and sea dragons! There are totally-not-Tremours-graboids and totally-not-Star-Wars-sarlacs! There are demon bulls who hunt heroes; when someone gets too used to fighting evil, he starts hearing rumbling in the distance over successive nights, and eventually the demon bulls turn up at the head of a herd of ghost cattle and tries to trample the hero and his friends. If they succeed, the hero becomes a new demon bull forced to serve the Reckoners for eternity. There are ticks the size of baseballs that cram themselves down your throat and then burst out of your chest when they get big enough (the only cure is to drink a ton of castor oil before it gets to that point, which causes the tick to come crawling out again, because no one likes castor oil). There is something called a Hanging Judge who goes around sentencing random people to death and then attacking them with revolvers with axe blades on them. It’s glorious.

That’s about it. There are some directions for handing out XP, except of course it’s not XP, it’s bounty points. There’s a system for simplified handling of NPCs, which let’s be honest, is probably something that will be desperately needed. And that’s about it.

So what do I think? Eh. I admire it in theory. Clearly, someone put a lot of love, effort and enthusiasm into making it the sort of off-the-wall cowboys-fighting-gross-monsters game they wanted, with a ton of imagination and in-depth inspiration from the genre. And the rules, for the most part, seem very solid. At the same time, it’s all just way too complicated, and the way it keeps trying to be flavourful just makes it harder to navigate than it already is. Half of the magic system, as near as I can tell, is also nearly useless – an especial shame, since it’s got a ton of personality and seem like it would be fun to play if you could just occasionally succeed at something in it.

Still, it’s interesting enough to keep going with. Stay tuned for the first couple of published adventures in Marshal Law.