Saturday. We loaded up the car and left for Pat’s house around 10:30am. When we joined with the 5, traffic slowed down to a crawl and a traffic sign informed us that Magic Mountain was the culprit. I guess a three-day weekend combined with non-blistering temperatures made for a great haul for MM. We managed to skirt most of the awfulness by taking the 14. I think Rebecca and I were the first to arrive, though there were plenty of people hard on our heels.
The younguns got hooked up to the videogame consoles & pretty much stayed glued to them for the remainder of the weekend, except when Dan snuck in to play Vib Ribbon. I considered going out to my car to get some of my CD’s to play Vib Ribbon to, but I had other games to play.
For the first game session, I was torn between the Hills Rise Wild (which I had signed up for) and Ian’s newly created Og of Cthulhu, where cavemen with limited vocabularies go up against the forces of the Mythos. I finally decided that I needed to shoot and kill things, but I would have loved an audiotape of the Og session. Rebecca played in Og, and had a good time, even if she was chased up a tree by a fellow player and died twice. I, on the other hand, jumped into combat mayhem as the leader of the DeGhoul Clan. Aaron had the Herbert West supplement, so we were playing with five cults. Aaron played the Deep Ones, and apart from one zombie that I blew away on the first round, all my death and destruction was aimed his way. It might have ended pretty rapidly if my TNT had done a better job against the Deep Ones, but instead we bashed away at each other, while his wimpy Sea Hag found the Necronomic on, ran home to her circle and summoned Father Dagon to end the game. The other three players were whomping the poo out of each other, and only at the end did they make common cause and try to go after Aaron. But it was too late…
Next up was Chun’s Omic ron Base game – a homebrew system where the PC’s played robots in some human base on some strange and unpleasant planet. Some unknown aliens land in the base and all the humans mysteriously die, and it is up to the robots to save the day. I went against type and picked out a stupid transport bot. I was a car. I wasn’t too smart, but when the emergency was declared, I had a good time running over alien scum until they shot off my rear left wheel. Around the time I got discombobulated, Rebecca called me down to participate in round one of Dilithium Bartender. This is like Iron Chef, only for alcoholic drinks. Contestants were Becca, me, Ian and someone else. Anyway, Pat revealed the secret ingredient: dates. What?!? He tossed a few into a blender with some water and made some date puree, which we had to make into drinks. I was stymied by the task and made something stupid with rum and vodka. Rebecca won by making an ice-blended desserty thing with Baileys and Kahlua.
Bitter with defeat, I entered Brian’s crossover Changeling/HOL game. As punishment, I kept my losing entry with me and drank it, dispelling my bitterness with sickly-sweet dateness. I added some Bacardi 151 to mine and set it on fire. The other players wanted to see it again, so I did. I let it burn a little longer and my plastic cup started melting, before I blew it out. Important safety tip for future reference.
Brian’s game was set in HOL, but the characters were so hopped up on drugs that they thought they were in a much better place, namely the world of faeries. I was Gidget the Gadget Girl. I could make anything out of anything. Within a few minutes of the game, I had already made an elastic-Troll-hair-powered Zip gun to defend myself with. Apparently the faerie prince was missing his royal squash and we had to go find it. As time wore on, our drugs wore off, and we devolved back into our HOL personalities. Most of the players went from say, Duchess Pixiedrawers, into Crack Ho. Or Skull the Troll into Big Fat Guy. I was the victim of a running Brian joke and found myself transformed into Gidget the Platemail-wearing Owlbear. Hoot, Grrr, Clank. We all drank a lot, and defeated the AOL monkeys wit h their flying plastic disks of death, and set a tree on fire (after a few people had sex with it). Speaking of sex, Matt made excellent (if unusual) use of his “Dramatic Entry” skill. We all drank some more. After rescuing Lady SkankyHo, we went to the meat factory so we could get Pan a wiener for his wiener and fought some giant laser-shooting eyes, which were represented on the battlemat by laser-shooting sheep’s eyes. We defeated the eyes and gave Pan a new wiener, so he could stop using the Royal Squash as a falsie. I think we won. Rebecca had given up all hope before the eyeball battle, so after the other players knocked her annoying crack ho unconscious, she hopped into her sleeping bag and conked out in the enclosed patio. I was ready to hit the hay, but thought that was a lousy spot, but I bunked down there to keep her company. Of course, gaming went on in the adjoining room, keeping me awake.
So now comes a strange portion of our tale, in which our hero listens to everything that goes on in and around the house from 1 AM to 4 AM, because of all the noise keeping him awake. I dozed fitfully, so some of the details and ordering are fuzzy, but here’s the edited highlights.
#1: Vampires. A couple guys from the Vampire LARP are in the backya rd near the patio. They mumble and argue oafishly. “Dude, you were totally hitting on her.” “No. Not really.” “She’s my girlfriend.” “I didn’t do anything.” The actual conversation was about ten times as long, and one half as informative, but that is t he condensed gist.
#2: Bino Barf. I hear vague protesting noises from the kitchen. Bino protests that he isn’t drunk. The rest of humanity protests that Bino should lay off the booze. Various shouts of “He just chugged that vodka” or “Now he’s drinking the ouzo.” There’s really only one way this story can end.
People gather to play Werewolf. Bino, aggressive under the best of circumstances, is now obnoxious. And loud. The werewolves wisely elect to kill him first. But this doesn’t keep Bino from kibbitzing loudly through the rest of the round, despite being dead. A few other rounds of party games go on, and Bino gets quieter and quieter. If I were not desperate for sleep and full of undirected rage at the universe, I would rub my hands with glee.
Soon enough, it happens. If Eleanor is reading this, what happened was that Bino bumped someone’s orange juice onto the carpet, making a small spot that was quickly removed by the fast judgment of the other guests. Elly, please skip to “#3”.
I didn’t hear the event itself, but pretty soon gasps of “Oh my god!” and “There he goes!” ring out. Bino has evidently puked down his entire front and onto the carpet. An amazing cleaning flurry does indeed ensue. Bino is tossed into the bathroom, and Aaron is soon steam-cleaning the carpet. Jay deserves a saint’s halo for not drowning Bino in the toilet. Things calm down, and Jay occasionally reports on Bino’s condition until it becomes certain that he will not die and the crestfallen guests lose interest.
#3: Return of the Vampires. A couple more vampires come out. I’ll call them A and B, even though their real names are Megan and Fuckwit. They step one inch outside the patio door, light up and start talking. Rebecca tells them to move away so we can sleep. They move off two or three more inches and reduce their volume for about five seconds. Their conversation continues, and I could quote a great deal of it verbatim, but it would be so dreadfully tedious that I balk at the task. It was like a bad soap opera for retarded children. So I’ll just give the highlights. The subtext is basically this:
B wants A to suck his cock, but B is a total loser and slimeball. B’s attempts to get A to suck his cock are hilariously inept. Sober, his IQ might hit the double digits, but he is currently drunk and his IQ is roughly the same as the number of fingers he’s ever used to pick his nose.
A, on the other hand, has an IQ that almost exceeds her age. She is interested in slowly tormenting B by fishing for com pliments, flaunting her bisexuality and extending the conversation until she has pulled every last wing and limb from her prey. Probably she thought she was displaying Macchiavellian skill at molding people to her will. But instead she was unleashing di alogue inferior to that found in most pornos, while inflaming the scummy passions of an unscrupulous moron.
Here is the gist of B’s speeches:
“I hit on three women at your Vampire LARP. I’m such a jerk. Really I am. Gamers are mostly guys. But this Va mpire LARP has girls in it. That’s hot. That’s the only reason I’m playing in it. All the guys in the game are probably only interested in the fact that there are women in it. Role-playing is stupid, but girls are hot. You’re hot. That other chick i s also hot. It would be hot if you had sex with that other chick. I have spent many a night thinking about exactly that while masturbating. I’m drunk. I’m sorry. I’m going to my car. Do you want to come to my car and suck my dick? Did I tell you th at you were hot?”
A’s responses to these verbal sallies were designed to keep him talking about how hot she is. In her defense, I will say that she declined to have sex with the other hot girl, who is already in a relationship. On the other hand, she spent close to an hour talking to this sleazeball when any normal girl should have immediately phoned a judge to get a restraining order. That’s an hour that I could have been using for sleep, but I couldn’t because of her. That biases me against her, so I’ll just wrap this up by saying that Prime called out from his tent that they should take their conversation elsewhere, so A went to B's car and sucked his cock. Twice. Or rather, that’s what B fantasized as he beat off in his car.
End of day one. Day two is much more continuously pleasant.>