[DL] Deadlands in Cannibal Country With Larry, Part I (Long)

["Theron Bretz" <tbretz@montroseclinic.org>]

OK, a few people asked me to post this.  If it bores or infuriates you, well
you know where your delete button it.

The following tale is as true as I can tell it. Like any mutually shared,
life-changing disaster, some aspects may have taken on mythic qualities.
Proceed at your own risk....

It all began with a call from one of my gaming buddies Justin Dunnuck. We'd
been talking about Deadlands for a while, as we were both experiencing a bit
of gaming down-time. The problem was that the Deadlands system was, to say
the least, a bit unorthodox from our perspective (we're long-time
Champions/Hero System grunts), and neither one of us wanted to be the guy
who had to read all the rules and implement them for a bunch of people who'd
never played before.

It looked like we had the perfect solution when Justin found someone looking
for a group to GM for. He seemed enthusiastic about the game and the
setting, and claimed to be a big Joe R. Lansdale fan (a huge plus as far as
I was concerned). We'll call this fellow -- Larry (for that was his name).
We made plans to play the following weekend, and Justin's friend Pete
Vonderhaar would join us as well. Pete's a great guy, but I didn't know the
depths of his character until we faced the coming tribulations together.

Having been given no guidelines for character creation, I came up with a
half-dozen concepts to bounce of the GM. The next day, Justin picked me and
Pete up and we headed off to Larry's house.

I should note at this time that Houston is the fourth largest city in the
United States. It is a huge, sprawling metropolis, with gleaming skyscrapers
and comfortable suburbs. At no time did the vehicle we traveled in leave the
city limits.

And yet, we turned off a major thoroughfare right into the heart of Arkansas
cannibal country. Kudzu covered the fences between houses. Dogs lived under
porches. Cars on blocks grew rusty in front yards. And there at the end of
this displaced street stood a clapboard house. With kudzu all over the
fences, and dogs under the porch, and two cars in the yard. And a bearded
fellow in a wheelchair waving at us from the porch.

No, this was not Larry, it was his older brother, who apparently had some
sort of neuromuscular disorder. I mention him not in any way to disparage
the differently-abled, but to emphasize precisely how creepy things were
already getting. And, drawn by the barking dogs, out came Larry.

In the past few years, Justin, Pete and I have tried to come up with the
proper words to describe Larry. Lacking them, we keep coming back to
"pasty-faced doughboy". This is, again, not intended to disparage either the
pale, or the overweight, but man, he looked just like a twenty year old Pop
'n Fresh. He immediately noticed my SCA t-shirt and made a disparaging
comment about it. I shrugged it off saying something about how the SCA isn't
for everyone and let it slide. He introduced us to his brother, and asked us
in.

At this point, you're either reading this with rapt horror wondering what
happened next, or your wondering "why is Theron wasting our time with this
non-game stuff". Frankly, because it's all part of the story and I can't
tell it any shorter.

We then met Larry's parents. It became immediately apparent that Larry was a
"LATE in life project" for these two, who both are past retirement age.
While they seemed pleasant enough, I could feel them sizing me up for chops
and ribs when my back was turned.

Larry then told us how excited he was to get this "balls to the wall"
campaign off the ground. He'd mostly played live-action Vampire lately
(there's a picture for your mental scrapbook) and was eager to tear into the
Weird West. He led us to his "Inner Sanctum" (his bedroom) so we could talk
in private.

Picture a 10' x 10' room (you're a gamer, that should be easy). Put a large
Confederate flag on one wall. Put an even larger series of 80s hair metal
band posters on the other one. Add lots of comic books, with the recent
Jonah Hex mini-series prominently displayed. Add that funky smell of living
socks you find in most dorm rooms. You are now in Larry's "Inner Sanctum".
Did I mention it was 10' x 10'? Did I mention Larry was a bit heavy? Or that
Justin, Pete and I are all over 6' tall and not exactly twig-like in our
conformation? Did I mention the door was shut? I forget who it was who
suggested we move to the gaming table, but he was a saint.

Meanwhile, Larry was telling us about this "kick ass NPC" he's including in
the game. In describing this character, I realize he's basically taken Jonah
Hex, filed off the serial numbers, tranformed him into a dork, and re-named
him "Dusty Blood". Or as we immediately began to refer to him, Jonah Heck.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Something like, "Theron, you guys weren't
even giving him a chance. You can't expect everyone to like the same things
you do, or play the same style you do." And you're almost right. We really
were trying to give him a chance, it's just that all the signals were wrong.
Something that will become more apparent when you read Part Two....