By Marcus L. Rowland
Copyright © 1998, portions Copyright © 1993-7
This is the fifth of a series of source packs, aimed mainly at users of table-top role playing games, but also of interest to SF and fantasy fans and scholars. It is not a computer game; I am simply using shareware distribution as an alternative to printed publication. If you have obtained it thinking that it is software, PLEASE inform the supplier of this mistake.
The Forgotten Futures collections try to 'rescue' fiction that seems to be in danger of disappearing; stories and novels that nobody is interested in reprinting, which seem to be heading for oblivion. Previous collections have concentrated on the work of single authors; this time, I have chosen to look at a theme used by many British authors - the destruction of London, its transformation by various other means, and a glimpse of the End of the World.
Disaster stories have always been a speciality of British science fiction, and of the scientific romance before it. American authors are predominantly optimistic, the British pessimistic. This was especially true at the end of the nineteenth century, when most of these stories were written. There are several elaborate theories to explain this divide; some cultural, some based on literary principles. See in particular the Science Fiction Encyclopaedia (Clute, Nicholls 1993) for a detailed examination of these trends. My personal theory is rather more cynical: once a story of a given type is published, and is reasonably popular with readers, many other authors try to repeat its success. When editors see such stories succeed they try to cash in on the boom, and encourage their authors to submit appropriate work. It's a self-fuelling cycle that easily explains most genre fiction.
The cycle that led to these stories began with the publication of The Battle of Dorking (George Chesney 1871), a story in which British military incompetence allows a successful German invasion. It was extremely popular, and other authors began to write their own versions, with varying enemies and means of attack. Disaster stories were an inevitable spin-off, once it was realised that readers were not put off by the idea of British defeat and humiliation. By far the most important successor was The War of the Worlds (H.G. Wells 1897), which combined the motifs of seemingly irresistible force, invasion, and an all-encompassing disaster, but there were many others.
This type of story is often called the "cosy catastrophe", a term coined by Brian W. Aldiss; in the typical plot thousands or millions die, but the narrator and those important to him always survive, inheritors of a transformed world. This tendency is most obvious in the work of a later author, John Wyndham, whose most famous novels deal with London as a city of the blind (The Day of the Triffids), and as a city slowly drowning (The Kraken Wakes). In this collection the theme is most apparent in the works of Fred M. White, whose stories sometimes kill hundreds or thousands of the 'lower' classes, but leave the aristocracy and principal characters more or less intact.
There was one real taboo in these stories; the Royal Family invariably escapes unscathed or is never mentioned. It was apparently acceptable to destroy London, but destroying the Queen (or King) was far beyond the boundaries of good taste.
With one exception I've concentrated on stories and articles about the destruction and modification of London, because it's where I live and work, and because it's a theme that was particularly popular. In its day London was the city to end all cities, and symbolic of Britain and the British Empire. Its destruction would be a tragedy, on a par with the destruction of Atlantis. When these stories succeed, it is because they make us realise what such destruction would mean.
Before looking at the rest of this document, read at least one story or article. The Thames Valley Catastrophe by Grant Allen is an excellent introduction to this genre.
Several excellent stories could not be included for copyright reasons; most notably, The War of the Worlds is covered by copyright until well into the next century. While I am unable to include this work, its events are mentioned at various points below. Since it has never been out of print since its original publication, I do not consider this to be a serious omission. The original magazine illustrations now appear to be out of copyright, and two are reproduced with this collection.
Please note that the information below and in later sections mentions some of the events of these stories and may reduce your enjoyment; the obvious answer is to read them before continuing with this worldbook.
Because of the diverse nature of these stories, and the impossibility of setting them all in the same world, the approach used in this collection is different to that of earlier Forgotten Futures material. It is primarily a guide to creating game worlds set against a catastrophic background, with source material for London; the "history" and "science" of each story is handled relatively briefly, mainly to suggest ways of using the disaster in a campaign. An optional multi-world campaign background is also described, based on parallel worlds and a form of psychic time travel. It can be used or ignored as the reader prefers.
One final point: racial stereotypes used in some of the source material might be considered offensive today, but would not have been unusual at the turn of the century. The opinions and attitudes expressed are not those of the author.
These stories and articles originally appeared in various British magazines around the turn of the century. They have been scanned in from the magazines in which they originally appeared, or from photocopies, with the art that accompanied them. The codes shown below are used to refer to them in the remainder of this document.
The author of Forgotten Futures is British, as were most of the authors featured in this collection. American readers will occasionally notice that there are differences in spelling and use of language between our 'common' tongues. If that worries you, you are welcome to run documents through a spell checker, but please DON'T distribute modified versions.
The stories use Imperial measurements of length and power; feet and inches, ounces and pounds, miles and horsepower. To retain their flavour these units have mostly been used in the worldbook and adventures. Readers who are unfamiliar with the British (and American) system of weights, or with pre-decimal British currency, will find the awful details in Appendix A of the rules; CURRENCY.WK1 is a currency conversion template.
This collection is a source for game referees, and most sections contain notes for their use. A few sections are written mainly for games. The Forgotten Futures rules can be found in RULES.TXT, but you are welcome to use the game of your choice and add game statistics to fit its rules. No one will complain, provided you don't distribute a modified version of these files, but if you like the game setting and adventures please register.
The recommended time frame for a campaign based on these stories is the end of the Victorian era, circa 1890-1900, although some of the source material was published a little later.
Chaosium's Cthulhu By Gaslight (William A. Barton) covers late 19th century Britain in detail, as does Steve Jackson Games' GURPS Horror (Scott Haring). Both these games can provide additional background details, mostly from an American viewpoint. GDW's Space 1889 (Frank Chadwick) is set in a world in which space travel is already a reality; unfortunately none of the adventures are set in London, but it may be useful for background data. Castle Falkenstein (Michael Pondsmith, R. Talsorian Games) and For Faerie, Queen, and Country (Cook, Sargent, and Boomgarden; TSR, for The Amazing Engine) both use variant Victorian backgrounds incorporating magic and weird science; much of this worldbook could easily be adapted to these settings.
While there have been many post-apocalyptic role playing games, most are set against the aftermath of nuclear war or some other modern catastrophe. Typical examples include Aftermath (FGU), Twilight 2000 (GDW), GURPS Autoduel and GURPS Atomic Horror (Steve Jackson Games), Cadillacs And Dinosaurs (GDW), and Gamma World (TSR). Some of these games offer interesting ideas on survivalist techniques and the reconstruction (or collapse) of civilisation. Only the GURPS material is currently in print.
Games in several other genres involve attempts to cause or forestall disasters of one sort or another, or to minimise their effects and maximise any beneficial fall-out. Time travel games (such as Timemaster and GURPS Time Travel) often use this theme. The reasons for disasters are often linked to elaborate conspiracies; GURPS Illuminati, Over The Edge (Atlas Games), and Tabloid (TSR, for The Amazing Engine) are all excellent for complex conspiracy theories. Finally, almost all superhero games assume that characters deal with such problems on a daily basis; GURPS Supers and Champions (Hero Games) are the current leaders in this field, DC Heroes (Mayfair Games) and Marvel Super Heroes (TSR) were games linked to particular comic publishers which have now been discontinued.
Into The Deserted City (Magellanica Company, by Jo Walton), a story-telling card game with cards for most of the standard themes of disaster fiction, should be published by the time this collection appears.
Three of the previous Forgotten Futures collections have some relevance to disaster stories:
At various points this worldbook makes assumptions about things that aren't specifically described in the stories, or are mentioned in an ambiguous way. Various campaign ideas discussed in Sections 3 onwards have been invented specifically for this collection, and provide a convenient means to allow adventurers to experience (and possibly cause or prevent) these disasters. Readers should clearly understand that these ideas are my own, and may be very different from what the authors originally intended.
It should also be emphasised that the long-term aftermaths described for these stories have been invented for the purposes of this collection; again, they may be very different from what the authors intended, and obviously draw on modern scientific and historical knowledge.
Some of the disasters described depend on extremely strange science; in particular, the geology of the London Volcano [TVC] and the sinking of the city [VEN] are highly suspect, medicinal use of electricity is not usually as effective as was believed in 1903 [DOD], and electricity "on the loose" is relatively self-limiting [INV]. Some of these problems can be covered if unusual circumstances prevail, others require some suspension of disbelief. For the purposes of this collection, it is assumed that everything works exactly as the authors describe; high explosives really will destroy fog, electricity can be used to kill bacteria, and so forth. My explanations for these phenomena, and their consequences, may not suit all tastes; you are entirely free to change things.
During the period in which I was assembling this collection there were several terrorist incidents in Britain and Northern Ireland, including the discovery of a plot allegedly aimed at London's infrastructure of water and electrical supplies. Other events included the bombing of the Olympic games. I have not covered "realistic" terrorism out of respect for the dead and injured, and because I would prefer to avoid publishing anything which might give terrorists ideas. Several other games have covered this topic; GURPS Special Ops is especially recommended for counter-terrorist operations.
Several useful stories could not be included for copyright or space reasons, and in one case because I could not obtain a copy; see Appendices A and B below.
Documents were typed using Borland's Sprint word processor, then exported to ASCII format and converted to HTML. OCR was mostly via Omnipage 7.
Graphics came from a variety of sources, most notably period magazines; diagrams and maps were mostly scanned from historical sources and edited for clarity, or drawn for this collection.
Most of the magazine art was originally scanned at 180 DPI, 16 grey scales, then reduced in size to allow inclusion of all the stories plus game material within a reasonable total file size. Larger versions of many of these illustrations have been added to this CD-Rom release. The program "Planets" by Larry Puhl was used to find the dates of the opposition of Mars and establish the chronology of the Martian invasion. NextBase's "Autoroute" was used to calculate distances and directions in the gazeteer.
Thanks to Ken and Jo Walton, who generously gave me collected volumes of Harmsworth's Magazine (later the London Magazine) for parts of the years 1899 to 1902. Christopher Beiting obtained copies of some of the stories for me. Matt Goodman found River of Death and scanned and converted it to HTML for me. Brian Ameringen found me fifteen volumes of the Strand magazine. Bridget Wilkinson, Christopher Beiting, Brian Stapleford and Arthur C. Clarke suggested material which for one reason or another I was unable to include. Tim Illingworth provided railway information. The Society of Authors very kindly sent me information on copyright law, and on procedures to be followed if a copyright holder could not be traced. The publishers of the fanzine Plokta gave money to charity to name a character after their "editor", Doctor Plokta. Numerous members of conferences on CIX and Usenet's uk.games.roleplay newsgroup suggested ideas on the "Thunderbirds School of Engineering"; I got similar help with alternative history from Cix's what-if conference and the alt.history.what-if and soc.history.what-if newsgroups. My thanks to everyone involved.
Sources include:
About Britain 3: The Home Counties (RSR Fitter 1951) Autoroute (NextBase Ltd.) The Book of the Thames (Alan Jenkins 1983) A Brief History of Time (Stephen Hawking 1988) The Cassel Encyclopaedia Dictionary The Encyclopaedia of Science Fiction (Clute & Nicholls) Geographers A-Z London Street Atlas and Index England Invaded (Michael Moorcock ed.) The Godfrey Edition of Old Ordnance Survey Maps (Alan Godfrey) The Grolier Electronic Encyclopaedia London As It Might Have Been (Barker & Hyde, reprinted 1995) The Making of Modern London (London Weekend Television 1985) Microsoft Encarta 95 Nicholson's Guide to the Thames (ed Paul Atterbury) The Nuttal Encyclopaedia (1908) Pannell's Reference Book (1906) Pearson's Magazine, issues from 1897 to 1904 Return To Paradise (Laura Spinney, New Scientist July 1996) Rhyming Cockney Slang (ed Jack Jones, 1974) Science Fiction by The Rivals of H.G. Wells (Alan K. Russell ed) The Shape of Futures Past (Chris Morgan 1980) The Victorian Household Album (E. Drury & P. Lewis, 1995) Victorian Inventions (Leonard de Vries, 1971) What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew (Daniel Pool, 1993) Wonderful London (ed St. John Adcock, c. 1928-30) Yesterday's Motorcycles (Bob Karolevitz 1987)
Carter Paterson: Noted delivery firm whose vehicles are a common sight throughout London. After the flooding of London the company uses barges [VEN]
Cimmerian: Related to the ancient legend of Cimmeria, a country where it was always dark [4DN]
Columbia: American bicycle manufactured by the Pope Manufacturing Co. Several models are available, including a "chainless" model which drives the rear wheel by a bevelled wheel rubbing directly against the tyre, with a low "gear" ratio that gives poor top speed but makes it easy to cycle uphill. Later a manufacturer of motorcycles [TVC]
Funnel: Vertical shaft leading from the surface parts of a tube (see below) station to the lower platforms, containing lifts, a spiral staircase, ventilation ducts, etc. [INV]
Gas: In this era the gas used for lighting etc. is coal gas, an impure mixture of hydrogen, carbon monoxide and other flammable gasses. It is smelly, toxic, and explosive [INV]
Hundredweight: Unit of weight with several values. The British version is 112 lb, equivalent to 8 stone (1 stone = 14 lb) or 50.8 kg; the American hundredweight is 100 lb (45.45 kg). To add extra confusion there is also a "metric hundredweight", 50 kg (110 lb), very rarely used [4WD]
Irving: Sir Henry Irving (1808-1905), a famous actor [4DN]
LCC: London County Council, responsible for municipal services and education within the county of London
Loop: Circuit of railway track, taking in several stations before returning to its origin. London's second underground railway, the Circle Line, was built to this pattern [INV]
M.P.: Member of Parliament
Opposition (of Mars): Time at which Mars is in the sky in the middle of the night, and is at its closest to the Earth. Due to the motion of the Earth and Mars this occurs at intervals of about two years [WOW]
Shew: Show (old spelling) [NY]
The Rage: Fashionable [NY]
Spread Eagle: American exaggeration; "you are trying to astonish me with the familiar spread eagle" [TVC]
Tube: Deep underground railway. The term is not usually used in connection with the early "cut and cover" lines, such as the Metropolitan Railway and Circle Line, but is reserved for circular tunnels excavated at depth by the "moving shield" method. The first, the Central Line running from East to West across London, opened in 1900 [INV]
When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.
(Dr. Johnson)
Open any book of quotations and you'll find plenty of references to London. Some seem to like the place, others hate it, or hate what it has become:
Hell is a city much like London
(Shelley; Peter Bell The Third)
Forget six counties overhung with smoke,
Forget the snorting steam and piston stroke,
Forget the spreading of the hideous town;
Think rather of the pack-horse on the down,
And dream of London, small and white and clean,
The clear Thames bordered by its gardens green.
(William Morris; The Earthly Paradise)
Morris was looking back to a past that vanished in the eighteenth century, and was probably less than idyllic even then; historically, London has always been an industrial and commercial town, whether the industry is powered by hand, by steam, or by electricity. Even encyclopaedias have trouble grappling with a city of this size:
London (population 5,633,000) on the Thames, 50 m. from the sea, the capital of the British Empire, is the most populous and wealthiest city in the world...
... often devastated by plague and fire, its progress has never been stayed; its population has more than quadrupled itself this century and more than doubled since 1850...
... the centre of the English literary and artistic world, and of scientific interest and research; here are the largest publishing houses, the chief libraries and art galleries and museums...
... a grand emporium of commerce, and the banking centre of the world...
... The control of traffic, the lighting, and water-supply of so large a city are causing yearly more serious problems.
(The Nuttall Encyclopaedia, 1909 - several hundred words omitted)
See Appendix C for the full text of the article.
London was built on trade; first in food and other raw materials, later in manufactured goods, and indirectly by investment in commerce and industry. Its role as the main seat of government followed on from its size, and its importance as a financial centre and port; it was always the biggest and richest city in Britain, so it was natural and traditional for the machinery of taxation and government to be based there. Later it was simply too big and cumbersome to move elsewhere; this seemed unchangeable until communications (especially the telephone system) improved, and various departments were evacuated from London during the Second World War.
To a large extent London ran on a service economy even in the nineteenth century; it flourished on the flow of goods and money, and catered to the needs of those who managed the system, especially the well-to-do middle and upper classes, at the expense of the working classes and poorer middle classes.
By 1890 London already had an elaborate transport infrastructure, which was rapidly expanding. On the surface horse-drawn vehicles still dominated, including horse-drawn trams and omnibuses, but electric and petrol-driven vehicles were starting to replace them, although private cars were still very rare. Underground the "cut and cover" railways were mostly completed, and the deep "tubes" were gradually coming into service. Nevertheless transport was expensive, in comparison to wages; most people worked six days a week, and with fares of at least 2d per journey, public transport could easily take 10% of a clerk's wages. Clerks and labourers usually "commuted" to work on foot; clerks in the City of London often walked three to five miles to homes in Holloway, Camberwell, Paddington, and other outlying districts. The Diary of a Nobody (George & Weedon Grossmith, 1892) describes this way of life very well, showing how the poorer middle classes were expected to dress well and keep up the appearance of gentility on a tiny income.
Further out, those who could afford to use public transport lived in exclusive suburbs like Hampstead, Brixton and Streatham, while the truly wealthy travelled by carriage from homes in the West End, Chelsea, or Piccadilly, if they worked at all. An important factor was the crowding of London's streets, already a problem in the 1870s; for shorter journeys in the City or surrounding areas it was often quicker to walk. With so much traffic on the road, mostly horse-drawn, street sweepers were essential; before crossing the road it was often advisable to bribe one to clear a path.
On the domestic scene, running a home was an exhausting business, with little in the way of labour-saving machinery or household products available, and was a full-time job for women if their husbands could not afford servants. All but the poorest middle-class homes employed maids, most also employed a cook-housekeeper, and often other servants. Today it's tempting to believe that this represents an absurd degree of luxury, but the woman of the house was rarely idle, and management of servants could often be a real headache for their employers. The phrase "the servant problem" was coined in this era. Upper-class homes could easily employ twenty servants or more, often for much less useful purposes; for example, female members of an aristocratic family would routinely take footmen to accompany them on shopping trips and protect them from harm.
Servants from the country were regarded as more trustworthy than native Londoners, and rich employers (especially those who could afford to provide accommodation for servants) often recruited staff to work many miles from home. Sometimes they found that the job ended with the end of the fashionable London season, and their employer's return to a country home. Sometimes they were treated even more harshly; a cliche of the period was the innocent country girl hired as a servant to a London household, seduced by her employer, then thrown onto the streets when she became pregnant; more than a third of the thousands of prostitutes on London's streets claimed that they had originally been servants.
Often lower-class employees were treated as servants, even if their job was nominally of "higher" status; for example, staff in London's department stores at the end of the nineteenth century were required to live in comfortless hostels and obey an elaborate set of rules, and could be dismissed at a moment's notice. Even those in steady employment were typically expected to work a twelve hour day. Jobs, especially in and around the West End of London, were often related to the season; laundries, tailors, seamstresses, florists, and dozens of other trades laid off most of their staff when the aristocracy were out of town. Automation and "sweated" assembly-line labour also affected these jobs. For instance, in the tailoring industry poorly-paid unskilled workers working sixteen hours a day could outproduce skilled tailors for a fraction of the cost. The East End was full of "sweat-shops", usually run by immigrant families. At the end of the nineteenth century the cheapest workers, and the bulk of sweat-shop employees, were mostly Jewish immigrants, leading to anti-Semitic riots in 1888 (sparked by the "Jack the Ripper" killings), and to many later incidents.
To summarise, in the period in which these stories were written London was the largest city in the world, and expanding by the day. It had some of the richest homes in the world, and some of the poorest. It has communities from every nation on Earth, many of them wretchedly poor. Its economy was vulnerable to fluctuations in trade and fashion. Pollution and crime were on the increase, and many believed that some form of collapse was likely. It was inevitable that the fiction of the time should try to show how disaster might occur.
In 1900 "London" can be defined in several ways. The definitions are often confused, especially by foreigners:
The East End suffered most from this divide, but by the time London had an adequate water and sewage system it was too late to change things; attempts to improve the economy of the area by building factories around the docks came to nothing, since free trade with the Empire ensured that there was too much competition from cheaper overseas manufacturers. The inevitable result was the collapse of these industries, leaving the area littered with bankrupt businesses and unemployed workers. Gradually ships got bigger and the main business of the area moved downstream, and to Liverpool and other deep-water docks. As the port declined, and housing deteriorated, those who could afford to move out did so, and were replaced by the poor; the area grew progressively poorer and more crowded, housing countless thousands who had been evicted by office developments in the City and the spread of the railways elsewhere, and a large immigrant community that couldn't afford to live anywhere else.
By comparison, the West End was largely built much later, on estates owned by the aristocracy, who developed the area on a grandiose and luxurious scale not seen elsewhere; typically West End squares were designed to a unified architectural style, with a large formal garden in the centre, and often had titled residents. The shops and theatres were an afterthought, a service industry that was largely dependent on the aristocracy. Gradually they adapted to serve the needs of the affluent middle classes, and avoided some of the seasonal variations described in section 2.0 above.
This gazeteer describes areas and important public places, mostly those named in the articles and stories, as they were in 1900; many of the areas noted as villages and towns on the outskirts of London have now been engulfed. Each listing begins with the name of the area and the county in which it is found; if the county is London or the City, it is already part of the town in 1900. It is unfortunately impossible to include a comprehensively detailed street map of London at any useful scale; readers are strongly advised to look for other sources. The Godfrey Edition of large-scale Ordnance Survey maps is especially useful; see the rules for details.
If a location's distance from London is stated, it is measured from the ancient site of Tyburn gallows, the traditional datum point for such calculations (see 03_LINKS.GIF). This is about two miles West of the City of London. Directions are to the nearest mile and the nearest point of the compass. American readers may be surprised by the smallness of most of the distances shown, but should remember that these stories were written in an era when most travellers walked or used horse-drawn vehicles, when it was still possible for a village to have its own identity just a few miles from the centre of London.
Unless stated otherwise, all parts of London and the City were destroyed by the Thames Valley volcano [TVC]; even some of those areas mentioned as surviving [eg Hampstead] may have subsequently been engulfed, or left as isolated hill-tops surrounded by white-hot lava and bathed in scorching air and toxic fumes.
This timeline covers the history of London up to 1900, as it was understood in the early twentieth century, adding some later events described in the articles and stories. Some details may be considered inaccurate in the light of modern knowledge. The first bronze or iron-age origins of London was a British or Celtic settlement named Llyn-din, probably near the mouth of the Fleet river. The first records of the settlement begin much later:
61 AD First contemporary record of London (Londinium) by Tacitus,
who noted that it was "greatly celebrated for the number of
its merchants. Sacked by queen Boudicca (Boadicea).
297 Londinium raided by Frankish mercenaries.
c. 367 Walls of Londinium built by Theodosius (father of the
Emperor Theodosius The Great)
457 Britons defeated by Saxons at Crayford, and flee to
"Londonborough"
c. 607 King Ethelbert builds St. Pauls for the first Bishop of
London, Mellitus.
851 London stormed by Danes.
886 Alfred recaptures London from Danes, repairs walls.
925-40 King Aethelstan builds a residence in London and organises a
city "frith-guild" (police force)
994 Danish attacks on London are repelled.
1014 Ethelred retakes London from Cnut (Canute).
1016 Cnut attacks London but is repelled. Ethelred dies, buried
in St. Pauls
1016-35 Danes settle in suburbs of Southwark and near Aldwych.
1065 Edward the Confessor finishes Westminster Abbey and Palace.
1066 William The Conqueror elected King in Westminster Abbey.
1085 William begins stone Tower of London
1087 Fire destroys St. Paul's Cathedral.
1118 Thomas a Becket born in Cheapside.
1123 St. Bartholomew's hospital founded.
1136 Fire destroys (wooden) London Bridge, construction of a
stone bridge begins.
1157 Hanseatic merchants settle in London.
1184 Knights Templar settle in Temple (Holburn)
1188 First recorded Mayor, Henry Fitz-Eylwin.
1200 First record of court of Aldermen (Councillors).
1209 Stone London Bridge completed.
1213 St. Thomas's Hospital founded in Southawk.
1120-69 Henry III rebuilds Westminster Abbey.
1221-53 Friars of various sects settle in London.
1260 Henry III takes refuge in London from Prince Edward.
1263 Prince Edward raids bank in Temple.
1265-70 Londoners loyal to Henry take oath of fealty to him; he
promptly removes the mayor from office and imposes direct
rule on London. Londoners welcome rebel Earl of Gloucester.
Henry restores mayoralty.
1285-98 Edward I governs London via his own wardens.
1326 Edward III grants charter to Merchant Taylor's Guild.
1328 25 guilds exist by this date.
1347 Edward III's procession through London after Crecy.
1348 Black Death reaches London, November, continuing until
Whitsun 1349.
1357 Black Prince leads King of France through London in triumph
after the battle of Poitiers.
1381 Wat Tyler's peasant army enters and burns parts of London.
Tyler is killed at Smithfield.
1398 Richard Whittington made mayor.
1415 Henry V progresses through city after Agincourt.
1450 Jack Cade and his rebel army enter London.
1471 Men of Kent make failed attack on city. Henry VI murdered in
Tower.
1483 Richard proclaimed King at Guildhall. Princes murdered in
Tower.
1494 Apprentices attack foreign merchants.
1497 Cornish rebels defeated at Blackheath.
1517 May Day riot against foreigners.
1522 Emperor Charles V lives in City.
1535-38 Carthusian monks executed at Tyburn. Executions of Sir
Thomas More and other clerics. Dissolution of London
monasteries.
1554 Sir Thomas Wyatt attacks city, defeated.
1555 Protestant martyrs burned by Catholics at Smithfield.
1576-99 Several theatres built: 'The Theatre' (1576) outside
Bishopsgate, 'Rose Theatre' (1592) in Southwark, 'Globe
Theatre' (1597) in Southwark, 'Fortune Theatre' (1599) at
Cripplegate.
1603 Plague in London. James I arrives from Scotland.
1605 Gunpowder plot to blow up Parliament.
1640-49 Riots etc. culminating in victory of Parliament and
execution of Charles I.
1660 Restoration of Charles II.
1665 Great Plague
1666 Great fire destroys much of City of London.
1675 New St. Paul's begun by Wren.
1683-4 Thames freezes, carnival and ox roasted on ice.
1693 Bank of England founded.
1727 Admiralty built.
1739-40 Thames freezes, fair held on ice.
1752 Mansion House (official residence of Mayor) completed.
1753 British Museum founded.
1758 Houses on London Bridge demolished.
1760 City gates and walls largely demolished.
1775 City petitions King to stop American war.
1780 Gordon Riots paralyse City, June 2-7.
1800 Bread riots in City.
1806 Gas lights in Pall Mall
1813 Nash begins building Regents St. and Regents Park.
1814 Duke of Wellington given freedom of City.
1817 Waterloo Bridge opened.
1823 New British Museum buildings begun.
1826 University College built.
1829 First omnibuses. Kings College opens.
1831 New London Bridge opened.
1843 Thames Tunnel (foot tunnel, later railway) opened.
1851 Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, featuring Crystal Palace.
1854 Crystal Palace re-erected at Sydenham (see FF1).
1860 Underground railway begun.
1862-82 Much important construction including Thames Embankment
(1862-70), Charing Cross Bridge (1866), Holborn Viaduct
(1867), Albert Embankment (1870), Albert Hall (1871), Law
Courts (1882).
1888 London County Council established.
1892 Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show tours Britain, stays in London
for several weeks.
1894 Tower Bridge opened. Lights on Mars during opposition [WOW].
1895 Gas explosions ignited by electrical supply faults cause
concern [INV].
1896-99 Strange patterns seen on Mars during opposition [WOW].
1900 London Municipal Boroughs established.
1901 Explosions on Mars during opposition, Martian invasion [WOW]
1902-7 London Americanised following US financial coup [NY].
1910 Central London flooded and Italianised [VEN].
1912 Newspapers sealed in cornerstone of Lyons restaurant [NZ]
5607 SC Ruins of London investigated by archaeologists from Old
Zealand. The date AD is uncertain since Zealanders may not
use the Christian calendar (but it seems possible that SC
is short for Since Christ). By this date several other
planets have been colonised [NZ].
???? World ends [END]
Prices are shown in pounds, shillings and pence. Prices were reasonably stable from 1890 to 1910; where this is not the case prices at the beginning and end of the period are shown if known. If there is a wide range of prices throughout the period the spread is indicated by a hyphen. Unusually cheap or expensive products have not been included in the ranges shown. Examples:
£3 6s 2d is three pounds, six shillings, and tuppence.
2s 6d is two shillings and six pence
3½d is threepence ha'penny
3d rising to 7d indicates a price rise from 3d to 7d
5s - 8s indicates a stable range of prices from 5s to 8s
Clothing, Female
Blouse, silk £1 5s 11d Camisole 3s
Chemise 7s Combinations 5s 6d
Knickers 2s 6d Nightdress 6s
Long skirt 10s Stockings 2s 6d
Boots 7s Walking shoes 12s - £1 8s
Clothing, Male
Suit £1 8s Trousers 7s 6d
Undervest 4s Overcoat £2
Gloves, calf 2s 8d Handkerchiefs, 12 8s
Hat, soft felt 7s 6d Hat case 15s
Linen collars, 12 6s 5d Cuffs, pair 1s
Shirt front 10d Boots 11s
Heavy nailed boots 19s Walking shoes 14s
Food & Drink
Bacon, lb 7d Bananas, each 1d
Beef, leg 10d Biscuits, 1 lb 6d
Bovril, 4 oz 1s 7d Bread, 4lb loaf 5d
Butter, lb 1s 2d Cake, lb 8d
Cheese, lb 10d Chocolates, lb 1s 3d
Cocoa, lb 2s 6d Cod, lb 3d
Coffee beans, lb 10d Eggs, 12 11d
Flour, 7lb 10d Haddock, 12 7d
Halibut, lb 7d Herrings, 6 4d
Hams, York, per lb 1s 6d Ice cream, quart 3s 6d
Milk, pint 1½d Mutton / lamb, leg 10d
Orange 1d Oysters, 12 3s 6d *
* restaurant price
Pork, leg 8d Potatoes, stone 7d
Sardines, 18oz 7d Sugar, lb 2d
Tea, lb 2s 5d
Alcoholic drinks, per bottle
Creme de Menthe 4s 6d
Champagne 5s rising to 8s 2d *
Claret 11d rising to 4s 2d *
Brandy 4s 7d Gin 2s 2d
Ginger wine 1s * Port 3s *
Rum 3s 7d Sherry 3s 6d *
Whisky 3s 5d * based on price per dozen
Alcoholic drinks, per pint
Beer 1d Porter 1s
Stout 1s 5d
Tobacco Products
Cigarettes, 20 5d Tobacco, oz. 5d
Miscellaneous
Postage, letter 1d Telegram, 12 words 6d
per extra word ½d
The Times 3d Daily Mail ½d
Book, novel 3s - 7s Book, textbook 18s
Alarm clock 4s 6d Watch, steel cased £3 15s
Cufflinks, gold 18s Fountain pen 10s 6d
Soap, 3lb bar 7d Spectacles, gold 18s
Spectacles, steel 2s 6d Camera, Kodak roll £1
Camera, half plate £8 7s 6d Cricket bat 12s 11d
Golf clubs (each) 6s Golf balls, 12 10s
Violin £2 10s
Transport
Train, 150 miles 15s Omnibus, per mile 1d
Underground railway 2d - any distance
Bicycle £10 Family car, 8 hp £200
Harness, goat cart £2 Roller skates 7s
Housing
2-bedroom house £300 2-bedroom cottage £190
4-bedroom house £650
Rents, per week, working class:
House 7s 1-room tenement 3s 2d
2-room tenement 4s 7d 3-room tenement 6s
Wages
Labourer, wk 18s - £1 2s rising to £2
Skilled, wk. £1 18s
Clerk, wk. £1 rising to £1 10s
Miner, per wk. 15s rising to £1 15s
Salaries, per year:
Butler £100 Footman £50
Cook / housekeeper £80 Governess £75
Head housemaid £30 Nanny £40
Income tax 3.5% rising to 5.5%
Household
Double bed £2 15s - includes mattress
Blankets, pair dbl. 6s Double quilt £1 10s
Sheets, pair dbl. 6s Dining table £8 10s
Chairs 7s 6d Oil fired stove £2 2s 6d
Piano, Bechstein £210 Piano, upright £105
Electricity, unit 6d Gas, 1000 cu. ft. 4s
Coal, ton 18s Candles, lb 10d
Matches, 12 boxes 8d - Non-safety before 1900
Water filter 1 gln. 13s 6d, refills 9½d
Most middle- and upper-class Londoners speak standard English, possibly adding slang appropriate to their background; for example, an aristocrat might use terms related to hunting, shooting, and fishing. Generally this will be a relatively small part of their vocabulary.
Members of the lower and poorer classes tend to speak English with a distinctive accent, often laced heavily with slang. London slang is largely that of the East End, the so-called Cockney dialect, adding a form of rhyming slang. The term "Cockney" (derived from a Middle Ages word for "townsman") has changed its meaning many times; strictly speaking it should mean a resident of the City of London, not of the East End, but somehow it migrated East with the poorest residents of London. Most of the "lovable Cockney" image presented today is synthetic, a product of the music hall and stage, which was just beginning to emerge at the end of the nineteenth century. Throughout the period covered by this collections, most outsiders saw the East End as a place to fear, the haunt of foreigners, anarchists, and the "criminal classes."
A fake Cockney accent is easily mastered; drop the letter "H" from words that would normally begin with it, and occasionally use some or all of the following substitutions:
Pronounce "th" at the start of words as "f"for example:
Pronounce "ith" at the end of words as "iv"
Pronounce "off" at the end of words as "orf"
Pronounce "ou" as "ah"
Pronounce "one" at the end of words as "orn"
Pronounce "own" at the end of words as "ahn"
"Where's my 'at?"You won't fool a real Cockney, in the unlikely event that you can find one, but it's good enough for the purposes of an RPG. An excellent example of a Cockney trying to use a more refined accent is the character "Parker", in the TV series Thunderbirds.
"Dinner's waiting at 'ome."
"Somefing's gorn wrong"
"E's gorn aht"
"E's gorn orf wiv 'er"
"E's goin' to snuff it" ("Snuff it" = die)
"I fink e's gorn orf dahn the pub" ("pub" = public house = bar)
Rhyming slang is easy to explain, hard to understand and use if you aren't familiar with it. Typically, it takes a short phrase, part of which rhymes with a word, and uses the phrase, or just the part of the phrase that doesn't rhyme, instead of the original word. For example, the word "Whistle" might be used instead of "Suit", derived from the phrase "Whistle and flute." The word "Apples" is used instead of stairs, from "Apples and pears." There are many other examples, ranging from the innocuous to the obscene. Many are based on place names (eg. "Hampstead Heath" for "teeth") or the names of famous people. Often there are two or three possible meanings for the same word, depending on the context in which it is used.
Other sources of London slang include various foreign languages, Indian dialects brought back by servicemen, criminal argot, and other working class slang. The list that follows also includes some common phrases which are no longer in use or may be unfamiliar to foreign readers. It is by no means a comprehensive list of slang; it just includes some of the better-known phrases. The following abbreviations are used to show the origin of words and phrases:
CK = Cockney dialect
CS = Criminal slang
RS = Rhyming slang
WK = Working class slang
Adam (& Eve) Believe (RS)
Apples (& pears) Stairs (RS)
Airs (& graces) Faces (RS)
Alleiluia lass Salvation Army girl (WK)
Artful dodger Lodger (RS)
Away In prison (CS)
Awful Offal (CK)
Babbling brook (a) Cook (RS)
Ball of Chalk Walk (RS)
Band of Hope Soap (RS)
Barnet (fair) Hair (RS; Barnet is a village near London)
Beak Magistrate
Bird Woman
(Do) bird Spend time in prison
Black Blackmail (CS)
Bleeding, Bloody Used to add intensity, eg "He's bleeding run off"
Generally regarded as offensive.
Blister Sister (RS; from "Skin and blister")
Bloke Man
Blue-bottle Policeman
Bobby Policeman (very mild term; derives from the name
of Robert Peel, who founded London's police force)
Bonce Head (CK)
Boozer Public house
Boracic (lint) Skint (broke; RS)
Bottle (and glass) Arse (RS)
Bottle (of water) Daughter (RS)
Bread and butter Gutter (RS)
Bread and jam Tram (RS)
Bubble and squeak Speak (RS)
Bucket and pail Jail (RS)
Bull and cow Row (argument; RS)
Butcher's (hook) Look (RS)
Cain and Abel Table (RS)
Cat and mouse House (RS)
The Chapel Whitechapel (CK)
Charley Pope Soap (RS)
Chokey (or Choky) Prison (CS, from Indian dialect)
Civilian A non-criminal (CS)
Clink Prison (CS)
Coal and coke Broke, penniless (RS)
Cobbler's (awls) Balls (Testicles; RS)
(I should) Cocoa I should say so (RS)
College Prison, especially Newgate prison (CS)
Colney Hatch Match (RS; Colney Hatch was a lunatic asylum)
Coffin nail Cigarette
Cock and hen Ten (especially ten pounds; RS, mainly CS)
College Prison (CS)
Conan Doyle Boil - (RS, from 1895 onwards)
Copper Policeman
(Cor) blimey Corruption of "(God) blind me" (CK)
Cosh Short heavy truncheon (CS)
Crust (of bread) Head (RS)
Daisy Roots Boots (RS)
Darbies Handcuffs (CS)
The Dials Seven Dials district of London
Dickey Shirt (CS, from "Dickey dirt")
Dickory Dock Clock (RS)
Dinah Favourite girl (CK)
Dog and Bone 'Phone (RS; probably not in use before 1920s)
Dolly mop Prostitute, especially an "amateur" (CK)
Doxy Mistress, prostitute
the Drop The gallows
Duke of Kent Rent (RS)
Duke of York Talk (RS; also used for walk, cork, or fork!)
Dutch Wife (CS, especially "my old Dutch")
Dynamiter Any violent political criminal especially
Anarchists, Fenians, etc.
Elevenses Mid-morning tea
Fag Cigarette
Fanny Adams F*** all (RS, obscene; Fanny Adams was the victim
of a notorious murder in 1812)
Fine and dandy Brandy (RS)
Fist Handwriting
Fleet Street Journalism, the press; the street where most
London newspapers were based.
Flowery Dell (prison) Cell (RS)
Four-by-two Jew (RS)
Fourpenny one A blow (RS, from "Fourpenny bit" = "hit")
France and Spain Pain (RS)
Frog and Toad Road (RS)
Gamp Umbrella
The Garden Covent Garden Market, in the East End
Gasper Cigarette
Gay and Frisky Whisky (RS)
German bands Hands (RS)
Gig-lamps Spectacles (mainly 19th century)
Ginger beer Queer (Homosexual; RS)
Gob Mouth (vulgar)
The Gorblimies The Seven Dials district (police slang)
Graft Work, especially if illegal, eg "hard graft"
Grampus A fat man
The Great Smoke London (later "The Smoke")
Growler Four-wheeled cab
Growler-shover Cab driver
Grub Food
Grub Street The gutter press (see Fleet Street); also a real
street, but renamed in the early 19th century.
Half a bar Ten shillings (CK)
Hampstead Heath Teeth (RS)
Hampton (Wick) Penis (RS, from "prick"; The real HW is a village)
Hokey-Pokey Ice cream sold in the streets by Italian vendors
Hot stuff Promiscuous
Ikey Jew, especially a receiver of stolen goods (CS)
Jack and Jill Hill; sometimes a bill or a cash till (RS)
Jerry-Built Badly built (possibly from jury-built or -rigged)
Jew Drive a hard bargain
Joanna Piano (RS - from Cockney pronunciation "pianner")
Johnny Horner Corner (RS)
Leg it! Run for it!
Life-preserver Weighted stick or cosh
Loaf (of bread) Head (RS)
Mince Pies, Minces Eyes (RS)
Mother Hubbard Cupboard (RS)
Mother's Ruin Gin
Needle and Pin Gin (RS)
North and South Mouth (RS)
On the floor Poor (RS)
Orchestras Balls (testicles; from "orchestra stalls" RS)
Peeler Policeman (rare; replaced by Bobby, above)
Pen and ink Stink (RS)
Pew Seat, eg. "take a pew"
The Pink 'un The Sporting Times newspaper.
Plates (of meat) Feet (RS)
Pop Pawn
Pop off Die
Pub Public house
Rabbit (and pork) Talk (RS)
Rosy (Lee) Tea (RS)
Rot-gut Cheap spirits
Rub-a-Dub-Dub Pub (RS)
Rozzer Policeman, especially detective (CS)
Scarper Run away (CS)
Skin and Blister Sister (RS)
Snuff it Die
Stretch A term in prison
Strike a light! Expression of surprise, eg "Cor! Strike a light!"
Sweet Fanny Adams See Fanny Adams, above.
Tea leaf Thief (RS)
Tiffin A light lunch (Indian service slang)
Tin Money (upper class slang)
Titfer Hat (RS, from "tit for tat")
Toff A gentleman
Tomfoolery Jewellery (RS especially CS)
Tommy Tucker Supper (RS)
Trouble and strife Wife (RS)
Two and eight State (upset; "in a real Two and Eight"; RS)
Uncle A pawnbroker
Warning Notice (of resignation)
Weasel and Stoat Coat (RS)
Whistle (and flute) Suit (RS)
Wick Penis (RS; see "Hampton Wick")
By 1900 London is already the nexus of elaborate transport systems; roads and canals linking every part of Britain, with railways carrying most passengers and an increasing portion of London's freight. The Thames is navigable by ship past Tower Bridge, and although the docks are declining in importance, they are still busy.
03_LINKS.GIF shows some of the principal routes; the Thames itself, the Grand Union Canal, a network of rivers and canals which links most cities in Britain, and some of the most important railway termini. Dozens of smaller stations have been omitted. The list which follows shows these stations, the companies that own them, and the areas they serve, going approximately clockwise around central London. All lines are standard gauge, 4' 8.5".
It is impossible to cover every type of disaster story, and every aspect of each genre, without going to ridiculous lengths. What follows are some general ideas which may be useful in any disaster campaign; fine tuning the details must be left to the referee.
Disasters can come from many directions. It's useful to draw up a few broad classifications, but there is plenty of overlap between them; most notably, once one type of disaster occurs, it may well trigger others.
The first class of disasters are genuinely natural events; volcanoes [TVC] and earthquakes, tidal waves, blizzards [4WD], giant meteor impacts, ice ages [END], and the like. These are undoubtedly spectacular, but offer some problems as background for an RPG; generally speaking there is very little that characters can do in such a disaster, apart from attempting to survive and/or rebuild.
The next class consists of "pseudo-natural" disasters, natural events which are triggered or accelerated by human action. For instance, the sinking of London [VEN] is partly natural, partly a result of widespread excavation below the city. The smog of [4DN] is caused by a combination of weather conditions and pollution, while the plague of [DOD] is a naturally-occurring bacterium bred in, or mutated by, sewage and rubbish used as landfill, spread when the ground is excavated. The plague of [RIV] is also natural, but spreads due to criminal carelessness. Sometimes it may be possible to put things right, sometimes there is little to be done, apart from enduring the catastrophe. Most modern eco-thrillers fall into this general category. An obvious variant is the "naturally-triggered" disaster, where a natural event causes a human disaster. Good examples here are the films "The China Syndrome", in which a small earthquake triggers a reactor meltdown, and "The Poseidon Adventure", in which a ship hit by a tidal wave turns turtle.
Disasters may be "accidents"; fires, explosions [INV], train crashes, and other man-made disasters which are genuinely due to miscalculation or misfortune. [VEN] could also be considered a member of this group. Often they are preventable, or cause damage that can be limited by the correct use of skills and resources. [VEN] is a good example here, showing a situation that could have been disastrous which actually becomes an improvement, although it glosses over many of the problems that must accompany such a major change. They are discussed in more detail below.
Next come deliberate disasters; acts of vandalism or terrorism with catastrophic consequences. The possibilities include riot [4WD], economic sabotage or takeover [NY], and of course arson and other forms of mass destruction. Again, they are preventable, or may be limited, if the right actions are taken.
The final class of events are best described as all-out enemy action; invasion, by human troops (The Battle of Dorking) or aliens [WOW].
While the stories and articles discuss a wide variety of disasters and changes, it isn't likely that any real city could withstand many. Certain fictional cities (such as Superman's Metropolis) routinely shrug off earthquakes and mind control rays every few weeks, but real cities are generally a few days away from catastrophic failure; disrupt supplies and services for any length of time, and it may be impossible to repair the damage. Cities rarely experience more than one or two disasters per century; their survival depends on how well they handle the emergencies, or turn them to their advantage. As an extreme example, the Great Fire of London, in 1666, was a disaster in itself, but had the side effect of wiping out most of the rats that spread the Great Plague of 1665, and inspired some real architectural improvements.
An extended campaign set against a single disaster can be broken down into several phases; normal life before the disaster, with faint hints of the crisis to come; surviving the disaster; and the immediate aftermath and long-term consequences. These stages are covered in sections 3.1 to 3.3 below.
For example, in a campaign based on [WOW] the 'normal life' phase would be covered by chapters 1 to 4 of Book 1. Once the Martians actually attack the problem is mainly one of survival, as covered in the rest of Book 1 and chapters 1 to 7 of Book 2. The immediate aftermath and long-term consequences are covered very briefly in the last chapters. Obviously a campaign based on the novel would work best if the referee devoted most attention to the actual attack and the Martian occupation, but the referee might well decide to make the outcome dependent on the adventurers' actions; in this case, they might be scientists who develop and release the disease that kills the Martians. Alternatively, the referee might let the Martians win and run a campaign based on an extended guerrilla war; a campaign of this type is described in the Forgotten Futures rules.
A campaign based on John Wyndam's The Day of the Triffids would have a very different structure. By the end of the first chapter the disaster has occurred, with very little warning, and most of the human race is blind or dead. The rest of the book deals with attempts to pick up the pieces. The referee needs to explain how the adventurers retain their eyesight (blind characters are unlikely to be viable in a catastrophe campaign), motivate them to find a suitable refuge, and make the resumption of civilisation as difficult as possible.
For one-off adventures it can sometimes be best to focus on the disaster itself. Can the adventurers prevent it? If not, can they survive it? Can they profit from it? As a simple example, a one-off adventure based on [TVC] might start with the characters riding their bicycles through Cookham, with a few minute's warning of the wall of lava that's heading towards them. If they head for the high ground they'll survive, but there are obstacles in the way; a village fete, sheep on the road, innocent children unaware of the doom to come...
An alternative is to set the adventure long after the disaster or change, and work out how it has affected everyday life. For instance, adventurers in the London of [VEN] would speak a strange Anglo-Italian patois, travel everywhere by boat, and eat pasta, garlic, and other strange foods. How would this affect a bank robbery, or the everyday life of a vampire?
A campaign that takes in multiple worlds and lets players experience every possible disaster, at any point before, during, and after the emergency, is described in section 4.
The prelude to a disaster should be marked by a sense of unease and hidden danger; characters may know that something is wrong, but they may miss some of the implications, or there may be reasons why they can do little to stop it. One obvious reason is lack of authority or influence; if the adventurers are unknown scientists, are notorious cranks, or have already sounded several false alarms, they are unlikely to be listened to. Good examples of this idea can be found in [DOD] and [4DN]. There may genuinely be nothing to be done, apart from evacuation; for example, the volcano of [TVC] would be unstoppable, even if it was predicted.
For a campaign which stresses politics and resource management, rather than action, give the adventurers all the authority they could possibly want, drop hints of the impending crisis, let them make their plans, then ensure that there will still be problems.
In London in 1900 disaster control is largely the responsibility of the local boroughs, with the help of the police, the London Fire Brigade (probably the most efficient in the world, staffed almost entirely by former Navy seamen with stations run under Naval rules and discipline), and ambulances from local hospitals. Troops are available, under the command of their officers and at the request of the local authorities, to help the police deal with riots and other disturbances. The LCC has just been given overall authority over the Fire Brigade and borough services, but is still feeling its way into its role. Against this setting the adventurers might be members of the LCC committee assigned to make sense of these organisations and draw up contingency plans, plus experts they consult, friends, etc. It's a role that will give them daily contact with the relevant authorities, and an early warning of trouble ahead. They might be able to make plans for several of the crises described in this collection, but would of course be held responsible for any omission from their plans. For example:
In [4WD] the adventurers might have advance warning of approaching weather conditions, and could arrange for extra stocks of food and fuel to be stored in the capital, and organise an emergency fixed-price coal distribution scheme. This would cover the main civil disorder aspects of the incident, but regardless of their actions water mains would still freeze, and catastrophic fires would still be likely to occur.
The characters of [4DN] know that a deadly smog is likely, although they cannot predict its severity. If adventurers were in authority, and could predict the problem, they might be able to enforce a ban on the use of raw coal in London (which happened, after lengthy legislation, a few years after the story was written). If the adventurers couldn't change the law, intelligent anticipation of the problem might include stockpiling of oxygen cylinders or filter masks at key points. It is unlikely that they would anticipate the need for high-intensity lights. Whatever they did, there would probably still be a high death-toll.
For an action-oriented campaign it's best to give characters knowledge without power. Again [4DN] is an excellent example; the hero knows that a smog is coming, but can only do something about it because he has a rich friend who has built an "aerophane" (airship) and has the authority needed to obtain explosives. How would he fare without his friend, or if his friend were less well-connected? The situation in [4DN] could involve several interesting missions; for example, a raid on an arsenal to steal the explosives needed for fog dispersal, "borrowing" enough acid and scrap zinc to make hydrogen to fill the aerophane, and so forth, then avoiding discovery until the disaster actually occurred. And of course it might never happen, leaving the adventurers with some very embarrassing supplies on their hands.
The situation in [4WD] is another good example; it's resolved reasonably well because a member of Parliament is prepared to organise the poor and illegally commandeer coal supplies. If this character were missing, it's likely that the situation would turn to violence, and possibly to outright anarchy. How would the adventurers fare if they were workers, desperate for fuel, or goons hired to protect the interests of its owners?
Similar examples might be prepared for many of the stories and articles in this collection.
The final type of "prelude to disaster" story is the detective adventure. The characters know that something strange is happening, but have no idea what. All they know is that someone is behaving oddly. Maybe it's a mad scientist about to cause some unimaginable catastrophe with a new device; maybe it's someone who knows that the disaster is coming, and plans to take advantage of the situation (or at least survive it) when it occurs. Maybe it's the government, scared to cause a panic, or anxious to ensure that "important" people survive, even if thousands of others must die. It might even be a foreign government, preparing some dastardly plan against Britain and the Empire. None of the stories in this collection fall into this detective category, but there are many modern examples, especially eco-thrillers. Examples include the novels "Stark" by Ben Elton, "Zodiac" by Neal Stephenson, "Sold - For A Spaceship" by Phillip E. High, "The Holmes-Dracula File" by Fred Saberhagen, and "The Great Wash" by Gerald Kersh, and the films "The Spy Who Loved Me" and "Moonraker". British readers may also remember a spoof TV documentary, "Solution Three", which used fake film footage and recordings to support a claim that most of the world's major governments were secretly preparing to evacuate to Mars (really an inhabitable planet with life) in anticipation of an ecological collapse.
The moment at which the disaster actually occurs is the focus of most of these stories, but adventures involving an ongoing disaster tend to fall into a few simple moulds which may not suit every taste.
The most common is the "How do we survive" adventure, in which the characters are confronted with the disaster and simply have to live through it. In [TVC], for instance, the problem is simply one of getting to high enough ground at the edges of the disaster area. Films such as "The Poseidon Adventure", "Earthquake", "Meteor", "Daylight", and "The Towering Inferno" are very firmly in this mould; the disaster occurs, then the characters have to get out through a tunnel, sinking liner, sewers or fire and reach safety. There is an assumption that 'safety' and the 'normal world' are still around outside the disaster area.
A good alternative is a 'rescuers' adventure, where the disaster is occurring and the adventurers choose, or are forced, to help people escape or deal with the problem. All of the films above are in this mould, as are the stories [4DN], [DOD], and [INV]; [TVC] also uses the theme, in the hero's attempts to reach his family. Films and TV series dealing with the emergency services are a marvellous source of useful ideas; I especially recommend the TV series 'London's Burning' (Carlton TV), 'Casualty' (BBC TV), and 'Thunderbirds'. A campaign set in one of the conventional emergency services would be very limiting, but a one-off adventure (using, for example, the dimensional travel system in a later section to temporarily put the adventurers in this situation) could be an interesting exercise. It's also possible, of course, to imagine an Edwardian equivalent of the 'Thunderbirds' concept; a rescue organisation funded by a wealthy individual, using the latest high technology (steam-powered mechanical moles, airships, and the mighty force of electricity) to tackle crises that nobody else can handle. Possibly starring Nikola Tesla in the role of Brains..? This is somewhat beyond the scope of this collection, although the description of 'Engineering to Fail' in section 3.5 could be useful in such a campaign.
Criminal characters have another option, of course; they can take advantage of the disaster (or possibly even cause it), looting and/or killing and hoping that their crimes will be overlooked. They may even try to seize power in the confusion following the disaster. None of the stories in this collection deals with this theme, but there are plenty of examples in fiction; usually their protagonists are depicted as coming to sticky ends, but the adventurers might get lucky. See especially most disaster movies, episodes of 'The Avengers' and 'The New Avengers', the film 'Superman', etc. Interesting SF sources are the stories 'Flash Crowd' and 'The Last Days of the Permanent Floating Riot Club', both by Larry Niven, and the novel 'Lucifer's Hammer' by Niven and Pournelle.
The basic problem in criminal adventures is that they must give characters reasons to expect the disaster, and to be ready with the right equipment when it occurs. FF3 includes one scenario outline, The Man Who Broke The Bank..., set against the global disaster described in Doyle's novelette 'The Poison Belt', which might be relevant. Criminals must also assume that things will return to normal, so that loot will eventually have some value. For example, looters in [WOW] would have to believe that the Martians would eventually be destroyed, and that the money etc. they stole would eventually be worth something again. While it is now realised that a genuinely all-encompassing disaster might change values, leading to a situation in which food or warmth is much more important than gold or diamonds, this attitude wasn't common at the end of the 19th century.
Slowly developing disasters, such as the sinking of London described in [VEN], are likely to cause less panic, but more long-term disruption. In this example characters probably wouldn't have to perform daring feats of rescue, but might occasionally be inconvenienced when a favourite club closes because the lowest floors are flooded, the tube system is shut down in favour of a fleet of gondolas, etc. They are best used as background colouring, not as the main focus of a campaign. For instance, the worldbook for FF2 mentions floods caused by global warming as the nova Lila-Zaidie moves through the solar system. While the floods themselves would rarely be important in an adventure, the overcrowding and warfare they eventually cause might easily be the springboard for a scenario; the plot of one of the FF2 adventures revolves around the nova's effect on the natives of Ganymede.
The aftermath of a disaster is probably the most rewarding setting for a long-term campaign; the period of weeks, months, or even years when life is slowly getting back to normal - or it is becoming obvious that it can never be the same again. As with the slow-moving disasters mentioned above, the disaster may serve best as the background for an adventure, not as its focus.
[NY] and [VEN] are all aftermath; they describe stable situations which will never revert to the former state of affairs. [VEN], particularly, suggests that the change is a major improvement, [NY] is far less certain. [TVC] is narrated from a viewpoint several years after the disaster, although it largely describes the disaster itself; the aftermath and subsequent events are unfortunately given little attention, except by inference.
Most of the other stories end with the disaster, rather than showing its long-term results, or with a return to normality. At best there are occasional hints (usually a character making an "I told you so" remark) to suggest that there will be an attempt to learn from the mistake. Most of the stories by Fred M. White suggest that the best response to a disaster is to rebuild, but do it better. Unfortunately real-life experience shows that this sometimes works, but more often the result is either complete indifference to the causes of the disaster, or 'improvements' that cause a bigger and better disaster the next time around!
As already mentioned, the incidental events following a disaster may often be a fruitful source of plot ideas. For example, [TVC] happens to mention the flooding of Oxford in the weeks after the disaster. If there wasn't time for a full evacuation that stripped every library and art gallery in the city, some treasures could be left underwater. An enterprising team of salvage experts might have an interesting time recovering them; or a group of criminals might be interested in hijacking the salvage.
If adventures are set in the aftermath of a major disaster, one possible complication is so-called 'survivor's syndrome'; a form of depression that sometimes occurs amongst survivors of 'plane crashes, hijackings, and hostage situations. Thousands of people may have lost loved ones in the disaster; many will be depressed, to varying degrees, or will turn to religion, spiritualism, or alcohol to raise their spirits. Traces of this attitude can be seen in [TVC], where there is a sudden vogue for frivolous entertainment after London is destroyed. In our world the deaths of the Great War led to a revival of spiritualism (see FF3 for more information) and the alcoholic excesses of the "roaring twenties".
Depicting this syndrome is best done via NPCs; widows mourning lost husbands and children, street-corner revivalists pushing Hellfire and damnation, encounters with alcoholics and the homeless, pointless wild parties hiding an inner emptiness, and occasional suicides. Referees may wish to suggest that characters who were involved in the disaster must suffer one or another form of this syndrome; while the FF rules don't have a mechanism for enforcing such behaviour, it's easy to act it out. Some manifestations of the syndrome do have game effects, as follows:
Many disaster adventures involve man-made structures; bridges, ocean liners, factories, power stations, and trains are some of the most obvious possibilities, but there are many others.
Modern engineers go to great trouble to ensure that the systems they design fail "gracefully"; boilers are fitted with escape valves and backup 'blowout' patches, generators have fuses and speed regulators, trains are built to stop automatically if the driver releases a lever or the brakes lose their vacuum. But things can still go wrong. Even in 1900 safety considerations were vital in engineering - but in a disaster campaign they should be ignored, or make things worse. Structures are built with no safety margins, controls tend to jam "on", and Murphy's law is always obeyed. Almost any example that can be imagined has probably occurred somewhere; for instance, the Chernobyl disaster was caused by a safety test that went wrong, the recent Channel Tunnel fire was made worse by a decision to keep the train moving and get it out of the tunnel. The Titanic showed how overconfidence can cause disasters; it sailed into danger, and carried insufficient life boats, because it was supposedly unsinkable, while other ships stayed out of the area or reduced speed to a crawl when they were near ice.
The extreme form of unsafe engineering, typified by the TV series "Thunderbirds" and the film "The China Syndrome", consists of systems which seem reliable until something goes wrong, then fail catastrophically. Usually they are certified as especially safe. As an example, one Thunderbirds episode showed a building designed with several fundamental flaws. Large quantities of fuel were kept in a corner of the basement car park; inevitably a car crashed into it, caught fire and exploded. The ventilator ducts were designed to close automatically if the building caught fire; the wiring to this system burned out before they operated. Fireproof doors slammed shut in the event of a fire; because the wiring wasn't protected against fire, they could not be opened to rescue anyone trapped behind them. Routes and exits weren't signposted; a family was trapped in the building, and eventually under its wreckage, because they got lost in a maze of corridors. Only an unlikely rescue saved them.
Most episodes of Thunderbirds showed similar problems; viewers will remember countdown timers that couldn't be stopped once they were started, immensely destructive vehicles without external shutdown controls, and (in the first episode) a nuclear aircraft with reactor shielding that started to fail if a flight ran slightly behind schedule!
In the context of this worldbook the best example of "engineering to fail" can be found in [INV]; here we see a gas main that can leak so much gas that it floods London's entire tube system without the gas company noticing, and an electrified railway that can apparently short-circuit repeatedly without fuses blowing. Most of the other stories see technology as a saviour, not a cause of problems, although [VEN] does mention that the sinking of London was hastened by mining, and the smog of [4DN] is largely composed of smoke from a burning oil storage depot.
Rather than taking a detailed look at every aspect of engineering, I looked for broad causes of trouble that have led to major accidents. Users of various conferences on CIX and Usenet helped immensely, suggesting many ideas I'd missed. Even after I'd cut some that only worked in a modern setting, there were still too many contributors to name, with some ideas coming from multiple sources (including several variants on the "flammable powders" idea). My thanks to everyone concerned!
It is impossible for all the versions of London described in this collection to exist in the same world. For instance, London couldn't be destroyed by a volcano in 1901 [TVC] then converted to a replica of Venice [VEN] or New York [NY] a few years later. A fast efficient tube system [INV] is incompatible with a flooded city [VEN].
If referees want characters to visit the worlds of more than one of these stories, a means of travelling between them is needed. Ideally it should be flexible without letting the players become omnipotent, giving the referee a reasonable amount of control over their destination. Such a device is the Psychic Idealiser, invented by the eccentric philosopher, phrenologist and scientist Dr. Pyotr Plokta (of Utrecht, the Sorbonne, and Imperial College, London) in 1898. His portrait is part of IDEAL.GIF
Doctor Plokta believed in Platonic Ideals; the idea that every object is in fact a crude reflection of an idealised concept, which is perfect in every way. For example, every chair is in some way a reflection of the perfect chair, but falls short in some detail of comfort, function, or style. All arts and crafts strive towards a dimly-perceived Ideal, but always fall short.
Plokta first experimented with calculating engines, thinking that it might be possible to deduce the nature of the Ideal by pure logic, but a lengthy digression into this technology was ultimately a waste of time. Something beyond logic was needed, and Plokta sought the answer in psychic phenomena and the unknown nature of thought. He reasoned that the human brain must have an imperfect psychic link to the Ideal, which is at its best in some artists and craftsmen. Although the precise nature of thought was unknown, he decided that brain waves might be the key.
At this point it was known that brain waves were electrical, and that it was possible to detect faint electrical waves by various means; certain materials (most notably fine metal powders) were known to adhere in response to weak signals, as in the first radio receivers. Plokta put these facts together to create the Psychic Idealiser, a device which was supposed to amplify brain waves and use them to create momentary images of the Ideal.
The principle was somewhat complex. Basically, a hypnotised volunteer wore a special helmet consisting of hundreds of fine wire coils arranged around the appropriate "faculties" of the head, mapped by careful phrenological probing. The coils were connected to a bank of transformers leading to antennae arranged around a circular glass cylinder with a flexible diaphragm at its base, containing a quantity of fine powdered magnesium, an extremely light metal, electrified to several thousand volts by a Wimshurst machine. The volunteer was instructed to meditate upon some common object, such as a chair, and try to visualise its Ideal form. As he did so a clockwork mechanism vibrated under the diaphragm, throwing the dust into the air of the cylinder.
Plokta believed that the dust would be controlled by the amplified brain waves of the subject, momentarily adhering to form a crude replica of the Ideal object. He rigged a camera to take an "instantaneous" flash photograph of the result; after several explosions and redesigns of the equipment, he obtained a fuzzy image of Wren's original design for St. Paul's Cathedral, which differed in many details from the version eventually built. His subject couldn't remember seeing a picture of the design, so Plokta assumed that he had successfully visualised the building's Idealised form.
Plokta decided that the machine needed more power, and used a larger Wimshurst machine in the next model. While an assistant operated the equipment, Plokta tried to visualise the cathedral more clearly; as it reached full power, he and his assistant suddenly found themselves standing in the plaza in front of the revised cathedral, wearing strangely old-fashioned clothing and with blurry double memories of two lives; their lives in the world where Plokta invented the machine, and in this new world, which they rapidly realised had two extremely nasty features; Britain was at war with France (with a French invasion force occupying much of Sussex and the Channel coast, after a treacherous attack through an early Channel Tunnel), and medicine was still waiting for the discovery of germ theory. It was obvious that their personalities had somehow transferred to the bodies of their equivalents in the new world; none of their possessions went with them, and his assistant's new body had a finger he had lost in an accident several years earlier.
Plokta hoped that they might return to their original world if they tried the machine again; fortunately he remembered how to build it, and had the money needed to buy its components. Assembly took several weeks, mostly the time needed to wind the coils.
Eventually they were ready to try again. Both were anxious to escape before the French reached London, so they rushed to an early test - and found themselves in a world where it was 1907, St. Paul's Cathedral was much as they remembered, but London was criss-crossed with elevated railways and everyone spoke an Americanised form of English [NY]. Neither could stand the pace of this new society, so they built another machine and tried again. And again... Now, a score of worlds later, Plokta has established the basic principles of dimensional travel.
Doctor Pyotr Plokta (eccentric genius)
BODY [4], MIND [6], SOUL [3], Babbage Engine [8], Brawling [5], Doctor [4], Linguist (English, French, German, Italian, Polish, Greek) [7], Mechanic (electrical engineering) [8], Psychology [6], Scholar (Philosophy, Logic, Classical studies, History) [7], Scientist (Neurology, Phrenology) [8]
Equipment: varies, generally unarmed
Quote: "So Britain was conquered by France in this world? Interesting..."
Notes: See above
Dimensional travel is an easy way to let characters visit the worlds described in this collection; it also lets them visit any other world, such as those described in previous Forgotten Futures collections.
Plokta's machine is a good framing device for an episodic dimension-hopping campaign. Because nothing physical is transferred from one world to another, the referee has complete control of the adventurers' equipment, physical state, health, wealth, and status. A millionaire in one world can be a tramp in the next. There are limits, of course; a character who is a member of a noble family will still be a member of that family in all worlds, but it's still possible for the family fortune to be lost, an older brother (who died in the original world) might inherit it, or a revolution might condemn all aristocrats to death. Alternatively, a "poor relation" might now hold the family title following several unlikely accidents - and gradually realise that his alter ego has murdered everyone who stood between him and the title, and that the police are closing in.
The date and time may differ from one world to the next, with the age of the adventurers varying accordingly; if someone is 25 in 1900, and travels to a world where it is 1920, his new body will be 45 years old. If it is 1880 he will be 5 years old. Adventurers travelling to worlds where they are dead, or have not yet been conceived, do not arrive with their colleagues. If the adventurers later travel to another world where the time is closer to their origin, the missing characters may be present, but it is not guaranteed. If adventurers travel to the past there is nothing to stop them taking advantage of their knowledge of forthcoming events; equally, there is no guarantee that events will unfold as expected.
Once the adventurers are aware that dimensional travel is possible, they are likely to find reasons to continue, if only in the hope that they might one day find something vaguely like their original world. But the referee should gradually reveal the murderous implications of the process; the fact that with each leap the possessing mind absorbs the new body's personality and memories, and leaves a mindless body behind. Religious implications may also deserve some attention.
Initially adventurers might be sucked in by one of Plokta's deceptions, encouraged to observe his experiment and transferred to the next world he visits, or might cross his trail as he tries to obtain the components for the next "jump". They might even come across his path after he has left a world; the discovery of some comatose (and apparently mindless) bodies in a laboratory could lead to experiments with his device, although it is likely that adventurers will try to prevent harmful effects. Characters need not all originate in the same world; there is nothing to stop Plokta (or anyone else) recruiting new companions as they travel.
Remember that Plokta, and everyone else involved, do not suddenly appear from nowhere in a new world; they have always existed there, all that is transferred is the parasitic personality of the invading psyche. They will not necessarily appear in the same place; there is no real reason why they should know each other in the new world. Possibly one or more of the adventurers doesn't exist in the new world; their parents never married, or they died in childhood. Possibly they are in Australia or some other remote location, and will have to find a way to rejoin the party (or follow them afterwards). This is a good excuse to omit absent players from the campaign. Optionally such characters are reunited with the team on the next jump. Versions of adventurers or important NPCs who have been killed may possibly be found in a new world - one possible reason for dimensional travel is a desire to find a loved one - but naturally the new version of the adventurer knows nothing of any previous lives.
Because the knowledge of the invading personality is generally similar but not identical to that of the invaded mind, each transition adds a chance of improving skills. If players wish to attempt to add or improve ONE skill on entering a new world, reduce the Difficulty of all rolls by 2 and the cost in Bonus Points by 1. Further skills are improved normally.
Example: Basil has MIND 3 and the skill Marksman 5 as he transfers to another world. He decides that he wants to improve the skill to 6; it costs 5 Bonus points, not 6, and is Difficulty 4.Optionally the referee can allow transfer of points from one skill to another to meet the needs of a new world, but this is not recommended.
While the new life is generally similar to the old, there may sometimes be radical changes; the new version of a character might be male instead of female, rich not poor, idle rather than industrious.
One disadvantage of this type of campaign is a belief that adventurers can always leave their problems behind; that no matter how bad the situation might be, the next world will be better or at least different. A jump to a body that is terminally ill, in prison, or in a lunatic asylum, and thus unable to rendezvous with the other adventurers to jump to another timeline, should cure this delusion.
Example: After a jump all of the adventurers are in new bodies, and find that in this timeline [TVC] London was recently destroyed by a volcano. They are widely separated across Britain, and two are hospitalised, seriously injured escaping from the volcano. They have no easy way to make contact; nobody is living at the usual addresses, thousands of refugees are trying to find friends and relatives, and communications are chaotic at best. There aren't even any regular newspapers in the London area, so a cryptic advertisement in the personal column isn't possible. Transformers are in short supply, as are most of the other components of Plokta's device. It may take weeks for all the adventurers to meet and get the machine working again.Optionally, for a game that may become somewhat schizophrenic, each jump may involve an attempt to subjugate the personality of the new body, by rolling SOUL versus the SOUL of the new body:
For a campaign with a greater range in time, referees may allow the Idealiser to transport the adventurers to the bodies of their alternate selves' ancestors or descendents. The obvious drawback is the fact that it would be very difficult to build an Idealiser before the mid-19th century. One interesting idea; if the alter egos of two of the adventurers happened to marry, there might be only one suitable descendent, which both adventurers might jump into simultaneously. This creates a totally schizophrenic character, one of whose personalities will be in a body that's the wrong sex...
If adventurers seem reluctant to move on from a world that they've reached the referee should try to respect their wishes. If this isn't possible - for instance, if the referee has prepared adventures set in another world - it may be necessary to change the way the Idealiser works. The easy option is to assume that the Idealiser loosens their "grip" on the world, and that another dimensional journey will start if anyone uses such a machine anywhere in the world. Then make sure that someone else invents it, but give the adventurers at least a slim chance of preventing the discovery. Sooner or later someone will succeed, and "inadvertently" send them on to a new adventure.
One option for an Idealiser campaign, suggested by Ken Walton, is the use of player ideas to determine the nature of the game world. The referee gives each player one fact (such as the name of the King or Queen, a popular song, a domestic product, etc.), and uses their discussion of this data to finalise the details of the world.
Since there is little or no continuity between adventures with this background, the characters can be plunged into the following situations with little warning:
