Di Tillio, Larry, & Lynn Willis, “Masks of
Nyarlathotep – Adventures to Thwart the Dark God”, Chaosium, Oakland, CA,
USA, 1996.
A lot of people talk about this campaign online
and, especially, they ask how on earth does the average Keeper manage to usher
any sort of group through all of its ramifications and peculiarities? I’m wary
of getting stuck into this issue because it’s such a beloved touchstone of the Call
of Cthulhu roleplaying game but, even though it gets trotted out in
different formats and updated for special anniversary releases, it’s still a
bugbear that can break any gaming group, no matter how experienced.
(Warning!
If you’re a fan of this campaign, you should probably stop reading now: I’m
about to tear it six ways from Sunday. Why? Because I like Call of Cthulhu and it bothers me that so many people come to the
game via this debacle, perhaps never to play the game again. It’s not a good campaign; it’s what there is. And many newcomers are led into the
false belief that this is some kind of gold standard. It absolutely is not; there are better things in Chaosium’s stable and
they do themselves a terrible disservice by not promoting them more. Or coming
up with something better.)
The first thing to be aware of in proposing to your
team that they try on this adventure series, is that it is deadly. It’s
like “Tomb of Horrors” deadly, and just
like that old AD&D chestnut, it feels like it was designed simply for that
purpose. It will be unlikely that any character that your players generate in
anticipation will make it through to the end – the mantra here is “don’t get
attached”. The best strategy would be to tell them to put their favourite
Investigators on hiatus and generate new characters for this gig, preferably
several each per player: this has the added benefit of allowing you as the
Keeper to set up all of the hokey “old buddy” connexions that the module
requires without anyone feeling too short-changed on their character input.
With squeaky-clean characters to hand, all you need to do then is just arrange
a rationale which explains how these individuals are all connected – are they
related? Do they all work for the same investigative organisation? &c.,
&c. This way, when – not if – they die, there will be some reason for the
next character to take over.
The second thing to be aware of as Keeper is those
two words of warning printed on the front cover, sinister-enough runes to make
the most callow referee give pause: The words “Lynn Willis”. Mr Willis styles himself as the chief editor on most
of Chaosium’s projects and he uses this position to add extra material to other
peoples’ contributions, thus giving himself a writer’s credit for any work he’s
involved with. I have direct experience of this: two of my friends contributed
to “Blood Brothers 2” and their original material, after Willis had
added to it and made many inexplicable alterations, barely conveyed the
writers’ original intentions. ‘Butchered’ is not too fine a point to put on it.
Basically, Willis can’t help himself: he has to play with material that he’s
given, adding elements often to its detriment. And it’s certainly true in the
case of “Masks”.
The main problem with this campaign is that, by
definition, it’s huge. That’s not necessarily a bad thing – if you’re
going to write a world-spanning adventure, it’s going to be big: just look at
all the background material required for “Beyond the Mountains of Madness”
and reflect that that’s just (just!) a trip to the Antarctic in the 1930s. The
difference in “Masks” is that every section of the adventure is overlain
with so many red herrings and other extraneous plot material that the main story
is quite lost beneath a morass of stuff that serves no purpose. Conversely,
information that should be provided – background information on places
such as Shanghai or Nairobi, travel details, access to equipment in foreign
locales – is often blithely skipped over, leaving the Keeper hanging. There’s
simply too much plot and not enough information.
Approaching such a behemoth, you would think that
streamlining the tale would generate clarity and allow the Keeper to add
whatever colour they desire. Instead, cluttering up the stage, there are
werewolves, demon cats, shapeshifted Serpent People, mythological Outback
entities and ghosts, which only serve to derange and distract your erstwhile
party. Most of these added distractions I’m laying at Willis’s doorstep: such
stuff is all very well for someone who writes roleplaying material for a
living, but for a team of players who get together at most once a month, it’s
just confusing. Your Investigators will burn out and give up before they’re
even halfway through.
So, first instruction for potential Keepers: pull
out a (metaphorical) scalpel and slice away all of the dross. Anything that
seems like a sideline, or which is just there to distract or throw off your
players – get rid of it. Your players give you their valuable time to
experience your Keeping skills; they don’t want to be blocked, confused, made
to fail and to miss the boat. Unless of course you really don’t want them
to come back for more.
My assumption (giving them the benefit of the
doubt) is that the writers (Lynn Willis’s peccadilloes aside) loaded up the
adventure with extra material to accommodate groups who were able to devote
plenty of time and energy to the game. I assume that they thought Keepers would
automatically edit the material to conform to their time constraints,
but the format and the Keeper directions don’t make this explicit. Less
experienced referees tend to assume that everything on offer in the text is
crucial to the Investigation’s unravelling and inevitably bite off more than
they can comfortably choke down.
The other problem that rears its head with this
campaign is the fact that there are literally hundreds of NPCs involved. Once
you’ve excised the extraneous material – keeping just the bare bones and
anything else that takes your fancy – you’ve still got a large bunch of bit
parts to play around with. What tends to happen is that your players will hear
a name and, even if they’ve heard it a dozen times before, ask “who is that
again?” Most likely, they will turn the name into a pun and remember them that
way, often to comic and atmosphere-busting effect. When I played this game,
there was a Japanese officer in the Shanghai section we all called
“soggy taro” and, if he was supposed to be a menace, as a result of this
phenomenon he absolutely wasn’t. So change the names to things that sound
better to you or which are easier to recall – you won’t completely banish this
effect, but it might minimise it from happening. (Just remember to Google the name first though, before you
change it: some characters in these stories are based on historical people!)
You might try wearing different hats, or affecting
certain poses or speech inflections when voicing a particular NPC, in order to
focus attention; seriously, I’ve seen this done and it can be very effective.
If you’re technologically savvy, you might – as one Keeper I know did – give
each of the main villains a theme tune to play whenever they appear in the
narrative, thus letting the party know when they’re on track.
This is a game that is notorious for its handouts.
Take some time to visit the many websites that manufacture quality versions of
these for those Keepers who really want to ramp up the atmosphere – “Propnomicon”
is probably the best of these, specialising in faux documents dedicated
to the “Masks” scenarios. Whichever ones you decide to use, think about
colour-coding them according to the section of the campaign in which they
appear – yellow for England; blue for Kenya; green for Shanghai, &c.,
&c. This will keep your players’ bits of paper organised and help keep the
action focussed.
For keeping the information on track, using
something like Excel, or building a wiki might be of valuable assistance.
Asking your players to keep journals or sketch the characters they meet, will
also focus their attention on what’s taking place as well as helping them form
an attachment to the material.
One of my main beefs with this series of adventures
is that it is very, very fuzzy. The goals of the evil-doers at each turn are
vague and nebulous and the results of their actions are never obvious, nor do
they logically or intuitively feed in to each other. A murder in New York; an
hideous birth in Kenya; a ritual in Cairo; a Great Race librarian hanging out
in an Australian desert; the actions of a bunch of piratical types in Shanghai:
none of it makes sense or even links up into any kind of investigative chain.
It reads like a bunch of disconnected stories mashed together and, to
underscore this perception, I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s played this thing who
knew what was happening at any particular stage. It suggests that whatever
Grand Plan is afoot, it’s extremely obtuse; or else – which I suspect to be the
case - there is no Big Picture in the Big N’s scheme. The project feels like
the cramming-together of several otherwise unconnected tales sewn up with some
extremely tenuous plot.
As an alternative to playing this all the way
through, an erstwhile Keeper might well break up the package into its discrete
components and play them each as standalone adventures: without the creaky,
overarching frame, they make much better sense individually. And those
sub-plots and red herrings which were cut out previously, they can also be
teased out into individual adventures in their own right - for the most part -
or built up into larger stories. As a single narrative, this is a clunky mess;
as a source for many disconnected stories, it’s a goldmine.
I have a strong personal dislike for this campaign,
and it’s based on many inaccuracies of portrayal which smack of poor research.
I’ve studied Chinese history extensively, especially during the Republican era
when this is set, and the portrayal here is very poor – no accurate sense of
the place or the tenor of the times is revealed. There’s nothing to conjure the
spirit of the city – it may as well have been set in San Francisco’s (or
anywhere else’s) Chinatown. And yet there are webs of pointless sub-plots all
over the place taking up valuable page space, instead of being used to pass on
worthwhile information to the Keeper.
But it’s the Australian section that makes me grind
my teeth the most. The Aboriginal cultists here use clubs, studded with bat’s
teeth and dipped in their ichor, which transfer rabies to those upon whom these
weapons are used. Excuse me? Rabies?
A ten minute Internet search will reveal that Australia is one of the few
places on the planet – for all its size – where rabies does not exist. And the Mimi spirits that
show up in the tale are just wrong. There are vampiric creatures of
Aboriginal legend with funky teeth but they’re not Mimis. Aboriginal
tribespeople also do not use hieroglyphs, or depict objects in their art the
way Westerners do, so having them tattooed with symbols of the Sand Bat is
equally meaningless. The portrayal, as in the Shanghai section, is lacklustre
and loaded with wrong assumptions and stereotypes that ring awfully hollow.
This is just two parts in a multi-part sequence,
but I can’t help thinking that, if the research for these bits is so poor, then the rest of it must fall to the same
standard. The sections set in Cairo and Kenya must also be approached warily,
although there is now both a Kenyan and Cairene source book to fill in many of
the blanks. I did originally think that Chaosium would do the logical thing and
produce rules books for each of the relevant sections in “Masks”, but no – that idea seems to have evaporated. With all of
the Lovecraftian potential that China provides, were they quick to set the
scene? No: along came a source book on Japan
(of all places!) instead. Perhaps
with the next release of the “Masks”
campaign more tie-in splat books will appear but no – who am I kidding?
Something shiny will no doubt appear to distract those at the wheel.
Am I being too harsh? Possibly. So let me offer one
last piece of advice for Keepers who are thinking of pushing their players
through this meatgrinder:
Play “Shadows
of Yog-sothoth”. It’s a much better vehicle, far better written, and your
players will actually like it.
Being halfway through GM'ing 'Masks of Nyarlathotep' I can agree with most of the points made by Craig. Playing once per month, every single session starts with roughly 20 minutes just getting up to date, remembering important people and places, then putting it all into perspective. Also bring a folder (or three) for the massive amount of handouts and Mythos texts ecountered early on, index cards with portraits for the (120+) NPCs help a lot, and ignore side-quests that add nothing like the werewolf bit of the London chapter. As it's always the case with role-playing, it really pays off to be well prepared, but newcomers are advised to stay away.
ReplyDeleteThat being said, there's still a lot to enjoy, if you know what you're getting into. After playing other classic campaigns (Curse, Orient-Express, Mountains) my Group was clamoring for this action-heavy, pulpy experience.
Sebastian
Australian bat rabies does exist, though I think it would have been better if they'd wrapped the clubs in gympie-gympie leaves (aka the suicide tree).
ReplyDeletehttp://www.health.gov.au/internet/main/publishing.nsf/Content/ohp-rabies-consumer-info.htm
Yes, lyssavirus is prevalent amongst bats here in Australia, but was only identified in 1996, so my objection to its use in this adventure still stands, I think. And, as you point out, there are many more suitable alternatives that can be used instead - I like the notion of the gympie-gympie leaf: very cool!
ReplyDeleteAhh, good point, so back then when it was written it was unknown. A bit of a boobie. And yeah, I'm going to use a mix of the gympie-gympie leaf and bat rabies for a nasty bit of horror. Also what better calling card than gympie-gympie leaves in the swollen mouth of a corpse?
DeleteOf course, gympie-gympie isn't native to western Australia but I can't see why the cult couldn't import it. They're already importing weird machine parts and Cthulhu statuettes!
I did some poking around and found that there are some alternative poisonous plats that might fit your bill. "Milky Mangrove" (Exoecaria agallocha) might work, although it's really only dangerous if the sap gets in your eyes (it sends you temporarily blind). A better option is the "Strychnine Tree" (Strychnos nux-vomica) - the seeds are neurotoxic, causing paralysis, convulsions and death, while the flowers and bark also contain high levels of brucine and srtychnine. Best of all though, are the plants in the Gastrolobium genus: there are over 100 species of this plane and they are all indigenous to Western Australia. Primary among them are "York Road Poison" (G. calycinum) and "Champion Bay Poison" (G. oxylobioides). They contain monofluorocetic acid which is deadly if ingested and they were identified in the 1840s after stock losses amongst cattle prompted an investigation - so they're right for the timeline in Masks!
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