Written and edited by Marcus L. Rowland
Copyright © 1998, portions Copyright © 1993-7
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0.0 - Introduction
Previous Forgotten Futures collections have concentrated on scientific
romances, the Victorian and Edwardian equivalent of science fiction. This
collection moves to another literary field, adventures in the world of
Victorian (and earlier and later) melodramatic fiction. It describes a style of
role-playing that is especially suitable for a Victorian or Edwardian
campaign, but may also suit campaigns based on material written in this period
but set in earlier or later eras.
Melodrama is defined as [1] a play, film, etc. of a crudely emotional or
sensational style, [2] the dramatic genre embodied by such works, and [3] a
real-life situation comprising sensational elements.
Definition [1] could easily be applied to most role-playing adventures; the
exceptions are scarce. Most RPG rules (including Forgotten Futures) devote a
disproportionate amount of space to combat and other forms of violence. Despite
this, very few adventures are deliberately written in the genre, as defined in
[2] above.
The essence of period melodrama can be spelled out in a few words; stories
in which good triumphs, evil always gets what it deserves, and love conquers
all. Every scene must be full of action, pathos, or romance, and must advance
the plot to some degree. Sometimes these ideas were taken to ridiculous
extremes as in this example, a review of a story with a naval setting:
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[Review, by George Bernard Shaw, March 1896, of True Blue by Leonard Outram and Stewart Gordon] "First there is the lady matador who loves the captain and hates the
heroine, whom the captain loves. Then there is the heroine who also loves the
captain. And there is the heroine's maid who loves the comic sailor, who loves
the bottle. Suddenly the cruiser is ordered to up anchors and sweep England's
enemies from the sea. The women resolve not to desert the men they love in the
hour of danger. The matadoress, a comparatively experienced and sensible woman,
slips quietly down into the pantry adjoining the captain's cabin. The maid gets
into one of those setee music boxes which are, it appears, common objects on
the decks of cruisers, and is presently carried into the captain's cabin. The
heroine, taught by love to devise a surer hiding-place, gets into one of the
ship's boilers. Here the hand of the idiot is apparent, striking out a
situation which would never have occurred to Shakespeare. Once fairly at sea,
the matadoress gives way to an inveterate habit of smoking and is smelt out by
the captain. She throws her arms boldly about him, and declares he is hers
forever. Enter, inopportunely, the navigating officer. He is scandalised, but
retires. When he thinks it is safe to return, it is only to find the maid
emerging from the setee to dispute possession of the captain, on behalf of the
heroine, with the matadoress. Hereupon he describes the ship as the captain's
harem, and is placed under arrest. Then comes the great dramatic opportunity
of the matadoress. Becoming acquainted, heaven knows how, with the hiding
place of the heroine, she takes the stage alone, and draws a thrilling picture
of her rival's impending doom. She describes her in the clammy darkness of the
boiler, listening to the wild beats of her own heart. Then the sensation of
wet feet, the water rising to her ankles, her knees, her waist, her neck and
only by standing on tip toe, with frantic upturned face, can she breathe. One
mercy alone seems vouchsafed to her: the water has lost its deadly chill. Nay,
it is getting distinctly warm, even hot -- hotter -- scalding! Immortal powers,
it is BOILING; and what was a moment ago a beautiful English girl in the
exquisite budding of her beautiful womanhood, is now but a boilerful of soup,
and in a moment will be but a condenser full of low-pressure steam. I must
congratulate Mrs Raleigh on the courage with which she hurled this terrible
word-picture at a house half white with its purgation by pity and terror, and
half red with voiceless, apoplectic laughter. Need I describe the following
scene in the stoke-hold -- how the order comes to fill the boiler; how the
comic sailor, in shutting the manhole thereof, catches sight of the white
finger of the captain's young lady; how the matadoress in disguise comes in,
and has all but turned on the boiling water when the comic sailor disables the
tap, by a mighty blow from the sledge-hammer; how he rushes away to tell the
captain of his discovery; how in his absence the fires are lighted and the
cold water turned on; and how at the last moment the captain dashes in
shouting 'Draw the fires from No 7' (the heroine is in No 7), rushes up the
ladder to the manhole and drags out the heroine safe and sound, without a
smudge on her face or a crumple in her pretty white frock, amid delirious
cheers from the audience..." |
The most famous melodrama was probably The Bells (Leopold Lewis 1871), a tragedy which is excellent as an example of melodramatic acting and characterisation. The plot is simple; on the eve of his daughter's betrothal the Burgomaster of an Alsace village is overcome by remorse as he remembers his one evil deed, the murder of a Jewish merchant many years earlier. Much of the play consists of monologues, unheard by the rest of the cast, in which the Burgomeister wrestles with his conscience, flashbacks in which he re-enacts the crime, and a dream sequence in which he is tried and found guilty. It ends with his death, a stroke occurring as he imagines himself hung. A recurring theme is the noise of sleigh bells, unheard by the rest of the cast, heralding another vision or memory of the crime. Subplots involve the future son-in-law, a gendarme, slowly working out how the murder was committed without realising who the criminal must be, the preparations for the wedding, and the family's concern for his health, but the focus is always on the Burgomaster.
The play was written for Henry Irving, and was designed to confirm him as the premier melodramatic actor of his day, so the other parts are comparatively minor, but it nevertheless shows some of the basic themes of melodrama; a villain who is apparently respectable but hides a shocking secret, an innocent heiress, and a dashing suitor. Guilt leads the criminal to his death, even though his guilt is never really suspected. The wicked flee where nobody pursues. It was an enormous success, and toured frequently until Irving's death in 1906.
If The Bells were run as an adventure, the Burgomaster would probably be an NPC, with the players looking for the murderer and gradually finding reasons to suspect him. They might realise that he had a morbid fear of bells, and use them to frighten him into telling the truth. They might fake the appearance of a ghost, or mesmerise him to unearth the truth. Trickery of this type kept the TV series Mission Impossible in business for several years.
Although a "crisis of guilt" can't sustain many adventures, some of the other "givens" of melodrama, and especially of "shockers", the action sub-genre of melodrama, can easily be adapted to any RPG.
Two other melodramas, from the first half of the 19th century, have been included to illustrate these aspects of the genre. Both are based on horror stories written during an Italian holiday in 1816; one by Byron's doctor (and possibly his lover) John Polidori, the other by their friend and house-guest Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley.
The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles (J.R. Planche 1820) is based on Polidori's novel The Vampyre (1819), one of the sources for Stoker's Dracula. Polidori "lifted" the name of the main character, Lord Ruthven, from the novel Glenarvon by Lady Caroline Lamb. In both novels the Ruthven character is an unflattering caricature of Lord Byron; an odd repayment since Byron wrote the story outline on which The Vampire was based.
Frankenstein; or The Man And The Monster (H.M. Milner 1826) was one of several plays based on Mary Shelley's novel Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus (1818).
Naturally the melodramas miss many of the nuances of the original stories; they were the direct ancestors of today's Hammer Horror productions, with the same pseudo-gothic atmosphere and vagueness of period and geography, and are an excellent introduction to the most sensational style of melodrama.
This collection also includes some melodramatic fiction:
A Bid For Fortune (Guy Boothby 1895) is a full-length novel that introduced Doctor Nikola, one of the great villains of melodramatic fiction. Although he only appeared in five novels, he is evidently the source for several characters including Carl Peterson (Sapper's Bulldog Drummond stories), Blofeld (the James Bond stories; Nikola even carried a cat...), and is acknowledged as a source for Doctor Doom (Marvel Comics). Boothby's influence is most obvious in Sapper's novels; Bulldog Drummond begins with a scene modelled on the opening of A Bid For Fortune, and the heroines of both books had the same name. The second book of the series, Dr. Nikola, is on the new release of the Forgotten Futures CD-Rom, launched at the same time as this collection; there wasn't room to include both books on a floppy disk. A few relevant details from this book are mentioned at various points below.
The Amateur Cracksman is a collection of the first eight Raffles stories by E.W. Hornung. Raffles, the "gentleman cracksman", a cricketer turned to crime, appeared in three short story collections and one novel, as well as many stories by later authors. He was undoubtedly an influence on The Saint and other later characters, although he seems to have much less of a conscience; his robberies are mostly motivated by greed and a love of danger, but the stories often show more complex facets of his character. All of Hornung's Raffles stories, including the rare novel, are on the CD-Rom.
A Bubble Burst (Fred M. White, 1902) is one of the "Doom of London" series published in Pearson's Magazine; the others were included with Forgotten Futures 5. It describes a financial fraud that comes close to destroying the Bank of England and the stock market.
Note: For space reasons A Bubble Burst could not be included with FF V as originally distributed, but was added to the expanded version on the FF CD-Rom. Since some registered users don't yet own the CD-Rom, and it's a crime story that completes this series, I've repeated it here.
Melodrama can be used in several ways in a role-playing campaign. Any adventure may have melodramatic elements added; this usually works, although there is a danger of taking them to the point of self-parody. The Ganymedan Menace (FF II) is in this genre.
A more fundamental shift in style is to run an adventure as a melodrama, using all the conventions of the genre; elaborate death traps, characters speaking in "asides" to an imaginary audience, mesmerism, sudden bursts of song and music, and so forth. Much of this file relates to this style of play. It should be mentioned that there may be problems with a long-term campaign in this genre; unless you favour a serial "Perils of Pauline" style, with new villainy threatening the Hero and Romantic Lead each adventure, any problem that initially confronts them will eventually be defeated. For this reason section 3.6 outlines a type of campaign in which the characters go from one role to another, as actors go from one role to another; even if characters are killed in one adventure, they will return in the next. Section 3.7 explores an extension of this idea, in which characters take on multiple roles in the same adventure.
If neither of these approaches appeal, characters in an otherwise "normal" campaign might be given reasons to act on stage; perhaps to unmask a spy or a murderer amongst the cast, or for some other purpose. In this case one or another of the scripts could be an excellent resource for the adventure.
One final point: racial stereotypes used in some of the source material might be considered offensive today, but would not have been unusual when it was written. The opinions and attitudes expressed are not those of the author.
In the rest of this document the following abbreviations are sometimes used to refer to these plays and stories:
[B] The Bells [V] The Vampire [F] Frankenstein [BFF] A Bid For Fortune [RAF] The Raffles Stories [BUB] A Bubble Burst
0.1 - Language And Units
The author of Forgotten Futures is British, as were 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.
0.2 - Role Playing Games
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 are included, 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 the stories is the end
of the Victorian era, circa 1890-1900. Campaigns based on the melodramas could
be set much earlier.
Several other RPGs have presented rules or settings which are particularly
appropriate to this genre; GURPS Swashbucklers (Steve Jackson Games), Castle
Falkenstein (R. Talsorian Games), and Lace and Steel (Australian Games Group)
all favour a melodramatic style of play, while GURPS Goblins is a comic game
set in the heyday of melodrama, late Georgian Britain, and includes a scenario
with a theatrical background and short play. All of the superhero RPGs feature
larger-than-life heroes and villains; GURPS Supers and Champions (Hero Games)
are especially recommended.
0.3 - Weird Science And The Supernatural
Much of the fiction accompanying this collection involves the supernatural.
In Frankenstein we see creation of human life, possibly by scientific or
magical reanimation of the dead; the means are never spelled out in detail.
The Vampire shows an undead creature that must drink the blood of
virgins to survive; some of the details differ from the "conventional" vampire,
as seen in Dracula and other stories, but its supernatural origin is clear.
The Bells involves Mesmerism, the early name for hypnotism. Dr. Nikola,
the villain of A Bid For Fortune, is obviously a powerful magician and
mesmerist.
The Forgotten Futures rules do not include a magic system, but in all of
these cases the powers used are either "special effects" which do not affect
player characters directly, or can be seen as attacks on the MIND or SOUL of
their victims. This worldbook does not attempt to explain magic in more
concrete terms; it is simply a "given" in the background of some stories, and
should not normally be usable by player characters. See later sections for more
details.
Weird science is a common feature of melodramatic fiction. Many authors
described strange weapons and devices, absurdly complicated scientific death
traps, and other mechanisms. Unfortunately the stories in this collection are
largely gadget-free; the real heyday of the gadget story began in the 1920s,
and many of the most interesting stories from this period are still covered
by copyright.
0.4 - Omissions
For copyright reasons many entertaining stories could not be included. Readers
are especially referred to the tales of Fu Manchu (Sax Rohmer), and to the many
novels of Dornford Yates, Sapper and William Le Queaux.
0.5 - Technical notes
This document was mostly typed using Borland's Sprint word processor,
a DOS program so old that it would probably run on a Babbage engine if I owned
one. It was occasionally assisted by Windows Wordpad or Notepad. HTML was hand
coded, and tested using Internet Explorer 4, Opera, and Netscape Navigator Gold.
The stories and plays were scanned with an HP Scanjet 5P scanner, using
Caere Omnipage software for OCR and HP Paperport for graphics. PC Paintbrush,
Micrografyx Photomagic and Corel Paint were used for graphics editing and file
conversion.
0.6 - Acknowledgements
The "Forgotten Futures Theatre" cutout figures accompanying this collection
were suggested by several people, most recently Paolo Marino, and are in a format
originally developed by Steve Jackson Games for their "Cardboard Heroes" range, recently
reprinted. Many thanks to Steve Jackson for allowing me to base them on this format.
Debbie Gallagher kindly gave me permission to borrow ideas from her article
Getting The Laugh Right, in Valkyrie Issue 10; see section 3.3 below.
Some of the ideas in section 3.3 were suggested by
Peter Anspach's Evil Overlord List,
and are being used here with his permission. Peter invites you to stop by for
a look.
Another influence was Diana Wynne Jones' "The Tough Guide To Fantasyland"
(1996), whose style has in some ways rubbed off on this document.
I am immensely indebted to Mike Cule, a professional actor, who suggested
many of the ideas throughout this worldbook and gave me copies of the Shaw
review (above) and The Bells. Without his influence this would be shorter and
a lot less entertaining.
Finally, I have taken the liberty of quoting or paraphrasing earlier
Forgotten Futures material where it helps to clarify material in this
collection. Readers who are familiar with the game will hopefully forgive me.
1.0 - Glossary
Staging of Plays
The audience sees:
Exits and Entrances: Stage vocabulary:
General Vocabulary:
2.0 - The Game World
Melodrama flourished throughout the nineteenth century, but most of the
source material accompanying this collection was written in the latter half of the
century. Events important in this period include the Great Exhibition of 1851,
which showcased Britain's manufacturing capabilities, the final expansion of
the British Empire (which was only known by that name after the Indian Mutiny
of 1857-58, when the British government took over most of the functions of the
East India Company, and the Queen was crowned as Empress of India), its
consolidation under the Queen's rule, and the start of its fragmentation.
It's a time of rapid technological change, but society is slow to adapt.
Although social stratification is starting to crumble as the balance of power
moves from the aristocracy to the middle classes, few realise the extent of the
changes being made, and they won't be fully apparent until the twentieth
century. With steam replacing horse power and the sail, balloons and the first
primitive airships suggesting the future of aviation, and the telegraph and
telephone revolutionising communications, scientists and engineers see no
obvious limit to man's ingenuity.
Unfortunately the development of technology is bringing new problems which
threaten the stability of society. The Franco-Prussian War of 1870-71 was a
warning of things to come; both sides used railways to move troops and
supplies, telegraphed orders to their troops, issued their soldiers with
rifles, and used breech-loading rifled artillery. This war was more "advanced"
than the American Civil War a few years earlier, both sides having learned from
observers with the Union and Confederate forces, but ended quickly, with the
collapse of the French government, capitulation and huge payments to Germany.
This unfortunately preserved the illusion that wars could be won profitably,
and with acceptable losses on both sides, if they were sufficiently well armed.
The war led to the alliance of Prussia and the German states as the German
Empire, which quickly became a focus of Britain's military fears; The Battle
of Dorking (1871, Sir George T. Chesney), published as the war ended,
showed Britain virtually defenceless against a modern opponent, and was an
important influence on many aspects of military planning. An unintended
consequence was the abandonment of the first serious attempt to build a
Channel Tunnel, killed by a government defence committee in 1875; the
fortifications the committee insisted were needed to stop an invasion via the
tunnel would have added millions to its cost. Chesney also opened the
floodgates for melodramatic stories in this genre, and for stories describing
other disasters, natural and man-made, culminating in Wells' The War of the
Worlds in 1897. See Forgotten Futures V for more on the world of disaster
stories.
The war also speeded the expansion of Europe's armament industries. Krupp,
Nobel, and dozens of other companies came to prominence in this period, all of
them selling weapons to any governemnent that could afford them. Fiction of the
period often showed these companies stirring up trouble to boost their sales,
and there was probably some truth in the stories, although often exaggerated.
An obvious consequence was the use of dynamite in crime, also a staple of
melodramatic fiction. While British fiction usually showed the arms trade as a
foreign menace, it should be remembered that British companies were also
involved. It's also the period in which "secret weapons" and "secret treaties"
are first prominent in the news and in fiction, and melodramatic spy fiction
first becomes popular. These trends naturally led to an escalation of arms and
tension in Europe, laying the seeds of the Great War.
Another important influence at this time is the gradual discovery of the age
of the Earth and the size of the universe. Astronomy, geology, and
palaeontology developed new visions of the immensity of space and time, and
stories dealing with their discoveries became popular. Verne is the most
obvious early example of an author inspired by the new knowledge, but there
were many others. Darwin's publication of his theory of evolution in 1859,
expanded to cover mankind in 1871, was as important. Least accurate, but just
as influential, was the (mis)interpretation of Schiaparelli's 1877 sighting of
canali ("channels") on Mars; by this he meant natural valleys, but it was
widely misinterpreted as meaning artificial canals. In 1894 the American
astronomer Percival Lowell built a new telescope specifically to map them, and
a detailed (if wholly imaginary) picture of life on a dying alien world soon
evolved. This "evidence" of life in space was another powerful boost to
scientific romance, and later became a staple of melodramatic science fiction.
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The staging directions in the melodramas may be confusing to any readers
lacking experience of scripts. Briefly, all stage directions are given from
the viewpoint of a performer on the stage; left and right are thus the reverse
of what the audience sees. The following abbreviations are used for positions
on stage.
Right Left Opposite Prompt Prompt side
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|
Scenario Idea - Now Hear The Word of the Lord
Many discoveries lead to business opportunities; are there any possibilities in the "discovery" of intelligent life on Mars? The Reverend Jacob Witherspoon earnestly seeks funds to build a giant heliograph in the Sahara, to signal Mars and send the Gospel to the Martians; is he (and the project) genuine, or is it all a cunning plot to separate pious suckers from their money? |
At the beginning of the century Britain was primarily an agricultural nation, although starting to industrialise. By the end most of the economy was based on industry and trade. There was a railway boom, which led to a huge proliferation of lines and stations; every town and most villages acquired a railway station, obviously of vital importance for any traditional melodrama (there has to be a railway handy, or you have nowhere for the Villain to tie his victims). British locomotives were exported world-wide. Britain built the engines for most of America's early rail network, and provided machinery and engineering skills for railways in Russia, the Empire, and China, but this success came at a cost of pollution and widespread destruction of the countryside. Due to this loss of country land, the enclosure of former common land (which put many smallholders out of business), and a drift from agriculture to industry, Britain gradually became a net importer of food, and as early as 1870 cheap American wheat depressed British farm prices, resulting in calls for protectionism. By 1900 most of Britain would soon starve without imported food.
As a result of this industrial expansion, the nineteenth century saw the rise of the British middle class, from a small and relatively insignificant portion of the population to effective control of the country and government. British society had been rigidly structured by class; the established landowning nobility (renting land and other property to hundreds or thousands of tenants) at the top, followed by the "gentry"; recently-ennobled land-owning aristocrats, baronets, knights, squires, lords of the manor (an obsolete but still-used inherited title), and clergy. Below them came those who did not own land (or at least did not do so on any large scale); the upper ranks of the clergy, physicians (far superior to surgeons, who were little more than butchers), barristers, and other professionals. Below again were farmers and other untitled land-owners, then the lower classes. While this system seemed stable, problems were already appearing in 1800; industry and trade provided new routes to wealth, and it became possible for a "nobody" under the old system to acquire more land and tenants than any Duke. Gradually status became less stable, and more a matter of wealth, influence and appearance. If you had some sort of title, owned a coach and pair, talked like a gentleman, and employed a few servants, it was possible to gloss over humble origins; this wasn't going to make you an aristocrat, since you wouldn't have the right ancestry, but after a generation or two, if the taint of commerce wasn't too strong and your children went to the right schools and moved in the right circles their wealth might help them marry into suitable families. But the first step was to get a title, and with an expanding and increasingly wealthy middle class, and a political system that rewarded almost anyone who was prepared to donate money to party funds or make a conspicuous donation to charity, the lesser honours began to seem less exalted. By the end of the nineteenth century the non-hereditary titles, and some of the lesser hereditary peerages, were more an indication of wealth than of quality; while knighthoods were still awarded for bravery, it was more likely that they were "earned" by being mayor of a town during a royal visit, by donating money to party funds, for charitable work, for owning a newspaper supporting the government, or anything else that appealed to the ruling party. Despite these changes, most melodrama portrayed the aristocracy as they had been in the eighteenth century or earlier, and the old hierarchy of master and man.
Home life in this period is best described as cluttered, especially in the 1850s to 1880s. The Great Exhibition showcased British design and mass-produced furniture, and homes rapidly filled with these products, often more notable for gross over-ornamentation than real quality. Middle-class houses tended to be decorated with hundreds of small mass-produced ornaments and pictures, small ornamental tables and shelves, hanging baskets (in Kipling's Stalky and Co. a teacher is described contemptuously as a "basket-hanger"), huge plants, and elaborately embroidered fabrics, making it difficult to move without breaking something. The critic John Ruskin led a backlash calling for a return to simplicity and craftsmanship, but this call went largely unnoticed until the formation of the Arts and Craft Movement in 1888. Most middle-class homes employed servants; typically a maid (and possibly a cook-housekeeper) in less prosperous homes, with more servants a necessary ingredient of any show of wealth. In the latter half of the century domestic "conveniences" usually included indoor lavatories and piped cold water, but hot water was usually carried by hand, and wood and coal stoves were usually used for cooking. In the larger towns gas was the preferred form of lighting, but gas mantles, which gave a clear white light, were only invented in the 1890s; until then gas lighting tended to produce a flickering yellow flame little better than oil and candles. Electric illumination starting to appear in public buildings towards the end of the 1880s. Telephones arrived in Britain at about the same time, but were rare outside the largest businesses and a few wealthy homes. Outside the towns oil lamps and candles were the only lighting available, and the telephone was unknown. The railways apart, transport was mostly horse-drawn; bicycles were only just coming into fashion, and the first cars (automobiles) only appeared in the 1890s. To make up for it, there were efficient telegraph, postal, pneumatic tube, and messenger services; in London it was routine to send a letter and receive a reply before lunch.
Entertainment was often home-made, almost always live; the phonograph was still more of a curiosity than a serious rival to live music, and moving pictures didn't arrive until 1895. Most middle-class families owned musical instruments, with pianos and harmoniums very popular. Common hobbies included photography, various forms of collecting, handicrafts, and gardening. There were also many amateur scientists, especially naturalists and fossil-hunters. Another common interest was spiritualism; reports of psychic phenomena swept across America in the 1850s and soon reached Europe, and, almost uniquely, attained the status of a religion and an area of scientific study simultaneously. To an extent the fashion waned as some of the most prominent American and European mediums were unmasked as fakes, but organisations such as the Psychic Research Society and the Spiritualist Church were founded in this era and still exist today.
Fashions tend to extreme conservatism and multiple layers of clothing; with the death of Prince Albert in 1861 Queen Victoria went into mourning, and this sobered fashions even more. For men waistcoats and stiff collars were the norm, anything else was considered eccentric at best. For women heavy fabrics and floor-length skirts were obligatory, although some daring leaders of fashion ventured into slightly more revealing designs towards the end of the century. Children were mostly expected to dress in imitation of their parents.
The customs of the period place men firmly as the head of the family. Property was often entailed (passed on from generation to generation with the condition that it could not be sold), especially amongst the aristocracy, and usually passed along the male line. A wife's property almost always became the husband's, and divorce was extremely difficult; there is good reason to believe that this led to several murders. Most sexual matters were considered taboo; the trial of Oscar Wilde in 1897 was by far the most public discussion of male homosexuality of this period - female homosexuality wasn't even mentioned in British law, allegedly because Queen Victoria refused to believe that it could exist. Mental illness was another taboo subject.
Education (in reading, writing, and arithmetic) became very common in this period, even amongst the lower classes who were often aided by educational charities and scholarships. It was compulsory from 1870 onwards. This growth in literacy led to an insatiable demand for popular fiction, especially the most lurid and melodramatic forms.
The world of melodrama takes the world of the 19th century and portrays it
in the starkest shades of black and white. Good struggles with evil, and while
evil often seems to have the upper hand, an Englishman's word is his bond and
a stiff uppercut to the jaw beats any strange Oriental wrestling trick (unless,
of course, it's used by a true Hero). Baritsu (or to be more accurate, Bartitsu)
can be very useful here; it's a thoroughly British martial art (albeit based on
Ju Jitsu), Anglicised by a
This world consists of a series of stage sets, designed for maximum dramatic impact. The rest of the world might just as well not exist. There is rarely news of politics or current affairs, except for events that directly affect the story, although the Queen (God Bless Her) or King (Hip-Hip-Hurrah) might be the target of some Fiendish Plot, possibly instigated by agents of the Kaiser or some other foreign notable. There may also be occasional topical jokes. For these reasons the most important world leaders and events are listed in later sections.
Cities are dens of iniquity, where a poor match girl might be left to starve on the streets, children are abducted and sold to white slavers or Fagin-like master thieves, and any country maiden is likely to come to a sordid end. Foreign cities are worse; dens of vice where gambling is rife and visiting Britons are likely to be caught up in riots or kidnapped and held prisoner as part of some villainous scheme [BFF].
London is a special case, a British city large enough to have various foreign quarters. Whitechapel is haunted by Jews, Limehouse by Chinese and other orientals. To the prejudiced eye of a British Hero, the whole place is full of d**n foreigners. A few other ports, such as Liverpool, are similarly suspect.
The country is generally clean and pretty, with beautiful natural vistas around every corner, but sometimes sinister events are hidden beneath this surface beauty. The wild outdoors is also close at hand. For instance, it's possible to leave a prince's palace and within minutes become lost in a forest or reach the summit of a volcano [F]. Country mansions and castles are often located near the wilds; on cliffs overlooking the sea [V], in desolate mountains (most Hammer horror), or near swamps, bogs, and other unpleasant natural features (The Hound of the Baskervilles, Cold Comfort Farm). Even the most pleasant village can hide some sinister secret ([B], most of the Miss Marple stories), while isolated farms can conceal anything from incest and murder to mass graves and prison camps secretly set up by quasi-fascist organisations (The Black Gang - Sapper). Inns can also hide sinister secrets; isolated inns with murderous innkeepers and beds with built-in death traps were common in fiction of the period, especially in adventures with foreign settings.
Anywhere containing dangerous machinery is likely to be the lair, or under the control, of some Villain; various plays showed them using the equipment of sawmills, wind- and water-mills, foundries, boiler houses and railway switching yards as sinister death traps for Heroes and the Romantic Lead. The boiler rooms of ships are also very useful locations.
Transport usually seems to be fast, and has an uncanny knack of arriving with perfect timing; the hero may gallop a hundred miles on horseback, but he will invariably arrive after the heroine has been strapped to the conveyor belt, but before she reaches the saw blades. Unfortunately other forms of communication are almost always out of action, or controlled by Villains; for instance, in a late example, The Avenging Saint (Leslie Charteris 1930) all telephone and telegraph lines to an isolated village have been cut, and the only way to stop the Royal train in time to avert its destruction is to fly thirty or forty miles and jump from the aircraft to the roof of the train; the train stops less than a hundred yards from the bombs that would otherwise destroy it. It somehow never occurs to anyone to fly to the nearest village with a working telegraph office and send a warning from there...
Questions of time and distance should be glossed over if at all possible;
provided that the Hero is in the right place at the right time, does the exact
speed of the journey really matter? Unless some action is to take place during
a journey, it should be dismissed in a few words:
"Well, the journey from Vienna to London takes several days, and at
every stop you hope to receive a telegram telling you that Helen is safe. But
nothing comes...."
If the action does move aboard a vehicle, do it with style! Don't just take a train, take the Flying Scotsman or the Oriental Express. Better yet, take the action onto the roof of the train. No ocean voyage is complete without a storm, and a desperate death trap in the bilges or boiler room of a steam ship, or a fight to the death in the rigging of a sailing vessel. Balloons should be blown hundreds of miles off course or struck by lightning, coaches should lose wheels or run into highwaymen, horses should bolt. If automobiles are available they should crash or catch fire, or lose tyres at top speed. Planes encounter storms or crash - see The Horror of the Heights (FF III) for an unusual but extremely melodramatic alternative.
Turning to the social life of characters, status and rank are all-important; the tiniest difference in position can be a bar to romance or the springboard for an envy-driven plot. Although the "hero" is primarily driven by revenge, the film Kind Hearts and Coronets is largely a tale of rank, prestige, and privilege. Gascoigne D'Ascoigne rises from a nobody to a dukedom, incidentally killing most of his relatives along the way. His rank suddenly makes him an eligible bachelor, to the extent that two women compete for his affection. As late as the 1930s this was still considered a matter of great importance; in Dorothy L. Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey novels, Wimsey's sister is felt to have married "below her station" when she weds a police inspector, as is a school-teacher who marries a farm-hand. In melodramatic fiction, especially that of the 19th century, it is likely that the parents of anyone proposing such an unsuitable marriage would try to stop it, even if it meant confining her to a locked room.
The clothing of characters should of course be appropriate to their status. In melodrama no lord would dream of slopping around in old carpet slippers; Saville Row fashions are the norm, and any ceremony or special occasion is likely to see the use of ermine robes and coronets, with a strong possibility of their theft. Similarly, the poor will always dress appropriately to their status, in the peasant fashions described earlier, or in wretched rags if it seems more appropriate to the plot. Earlier FF collections have mentioned the importance of hats as a means of determining status and rank; briefly, no Englishman of the period would dream of going out in public without one, and to any expert eye the style and quality of this garment is an infallible indicator of rank. The same might be said of shoes, trousers, and other garments; clothing makes the man, and is often an indication of his character. Only a bounder wears patent leather boots with evening dress, only a gentleman would wear a cap garnished with fishing flies. Women, especially the proteges and mistresses of the rich, can be more deceptive, but the style and poise of the true aristocracy can rarely be imitated properly by their inferiors.
To summarise, the world of melodrama is our own world, especially the late Victorian and early Edwardian period, exaggerated and with contrasts emphasised, and obsessed with class and position. You are either good or bad, poor or rich, British or a d****d foreigner; the shades of grey in between are largely ignored. Your status is clearly defined, and rarely changes. There are sinister undercurrents everywhere, but nothing a Hero can't handle. Evil is close and personal; few Villains can resist a chance to confront a Hero, even when it might seem to be totally unnecessary, even if the Hero has little or nothing to do with the Villain's fiendish plot, and would remain totally unaware of it without the Villain's intervention. Appearances are everything, and are very often a good guide to character.
Given this artificial setting, the details that follow might seem a little unnecessary. But even in melodrama it's occasionally useful to refer to the outside world, go shopping, and otherwise add the odd touch of mundane reality. Never fear, these everyday touches are a useful contrast to the drama that characters will encounter at other times.
2.1 - Timeline, 1890-1914
2.2 - World Leaders 1890-1914
2.3 - Prices
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: 3.0 - Characters
There are several stereotyped roles in a melodramatic thriller; most typical
are the Hero, the Romantic Lead, and the Villain. Note the use of capitals! In
an RPG the Hero is usually a player character, the Villain is typically an NPC,
and the Romantic Lead may be run as either but is most often an NPC. All other
characters (including the other player characters) are there to reflect the
personalities of the main characters, or to fulfil the needs of the plot; to
lend the main characters money or aid, to carry out their instructions or get
in the way, and (occasionally) to die horribly. After these dominant figures,
the most common character types are henchmen (serving the Villain, less often
the Hero), trusty servants (for the Hero or Romantic Lead) who often act as
alcoholic or cowardly comic relief, friends of the Hero or Romantic Lead, and
the Romantic Lead's siblings and/or parents (often destined to be turned out
of their home and into the snow if she doesn't succumb to the Villain's
demands).
For example, in the novel Dracula (written by Bram Stoker, an actor and
theatrical director, and probably heavily influenced by The Vampire) the
Villain is Dracula himself, the Hero is Jonathan Harker, and the Romantic Lead
is Mina Harker. Everyone else in the story is a henchman (Renfield and various
vampires, gypsies and wolves), friend (John Seward, Van Helsing, Quincy Morris,
etc.), or relative (Lucy), and usually comes to a sticky end.
Most melodramatic fiction continues this tradition; there is usually a
principal Villain, with a few subsidiary henchmen (henchwomen, henchpersons),
a Romantic Lead (who is often held prisoner or under threat by the Villain),
and a Hero of epic proportions. This isn't just a Victorian convention; it
continues in many of today's thrillers, and several of the examples that follow
were written in the 20th century.
Naturally there are variants; most notably, stories in which a Heroine takes
the dynamic role normally allocated to the Hero, an apparent Romantic Lead is actually
a Villainess, a Hero has tragic flaws (Frankenstein and A.J. Raffles are
obvious examples) and should best be regarded as an Antihero, or an apparent
henchman or servant is actually the Hero or Villain. An extreme case is
Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, in which the Hero and Villain occupy the
same body. For examples of two variants see The Ganymedan Menace (FF II) and
Folly of the Wise (FF IV).
If players are able to work within these conventions, it can be a lot of fun for one
of the players to be the Villain, possibly aided by some of the players as Henchmen. They'll
probably die horribly, but they'll get the best lines. For large groups of players a Hero
team and a Villain team can work well, with the referee acting as intermediary and throwing
in occasional surprises.
Since the melodramatic approach favours one-off adventures rather than prolonged
campaigns, section 3.6 describes a style of play in which continuing characters take
on new roles for each adventure; the character can even earn Bonus points for a spectacular
death! Section 3.7 extends this idea further, for adventures in which characters take on
multiple roles.
Note that melodrama differentiates the roles and capabilities of the sexes
in many ways; while either sex may conceivably take on any of the three
principal roles, their abilities and limitations will differ. This may seem
very sexist, but is true to the genre. Note, too, that characters are unusually
two-dimensional in this genre, one reason why the cardboard figures are provided.
3.1 - Heroes and Heroines
Generate Heroes on 25 points, with BODY of at least 4 (3 for Heroines),
but give the character 10 extra Bonus Points after generation is complete.
These points may NOT be used to purchase skills - they must be used in play,
to improve skill rolls and/or luck. Heroes are always competent, and may
improve rolls even if they are attempting to use a skill they do not actually
possess.
Heroes have several limitations and advantages; if Heroines differ, the
modified data is in square brackets [like this] at the end of paragraphs.
Heroes should also adopt one or more of the following traits: See the novels King And Joker and Skeleton In Waiting, by Peter
Dickenson, for two entertaining twists on this idea. What's going on here? Is it a cunning plan to take the Hero's place and put
him out of the way while some hideous crime is committed, or is the "Hero"
actually a demented impostor who really has stolen the luggage and doesn't
know he's a fake. Could both of them be wrong... or right?
This works best if the Hero is travelling alone; any other players need
to take on roles which don't involve knowledge of the truth.
A word of caution; it's claimed that TV series use the amnesia gimmick
whenever they can't think of a real plot, and it is certainly one of the cliches
of serial fiction, giving the author an opportunity to rehash previous events.
Use this gimmick with great caution, repeated amnesiac episodes soon
become desperately dull.
In any melodramatic campaign the Hero should be the focus of the adventuring
group. This does not mean that the other characters are unimportant; it simply
means that NPCs and the focus of the plot will always tend to concentrate upon
the Hero, often to a ridiculous extent. For example, a villain may order
eighteen thugs to attack the Hero, while trying to cover four other
adventurers with a single-shot pistol. The adventurers may possibly find ways
to take advantage of the situation.
Under exceptional circumstances there may be more than one Hero in an
adventure; if so, they will almost always be rivals in love. This should not
stop them cooperating to defeat the Villain, but they should always try to
out-perform each other when the Romantic Lead is around.
Optionally, referees might prepare a theme tune for Heroes, to be played
whenever they go into action. Try especially various Gilbert & Sullivan themes,
and Sousa marches such as Liberty Bell (the Monty Python theme) and Hail To
The Spirit of Liberty (the Doc Savage theme). Many other tunes are appropriate;
for example, in a Royal Shakespeare Company version of Gillette's Sherlock
Holmes, the great detective first appeared playing the James Bond theme as a
slow violin piece. Trailers for the BBC's recent Scarlet Pimpernel series
used a version of a more recent James Bond theme.
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1909-1934 - Albert
1908-1912 - Hsuan-T'ung
1912-1912 - Sun Yat-Sen (President)
1912-1916 - Yuan Shih-k'ai
1906-1912 - Frederick VIII
1912-1947 - Christian X
1894-1899 - Francois Faure
1899-1906 - Emile Loubet
1906-1913 - Armand Fallières
1913-1920 - Raymond Poincaré
1913-1917 - Constantine I
1900-1946 - Victor-Emanuel III
1912-1926 - Taisho
1905-1912 - William
1912-1919 - Marie-Adelaide
1903-1914 - Pius X
1908-1910 - Manuel II (deposed; Portugal became a republic)
1910-1911 - Teofilo Braga (president)
1911-1915 - Manuel Jose de Arriaga
1894-1917 - Nicholas II
1901-1910 - Edward VII
1910-1936 - George V
1892-1894 - William Ewart Gladstone (Lib.)
1894-1895 - Earl of Rosebery (Lib.)
1895-1902 - Marquess of Salisbury (Con.)
1902-1905 - Arthur James Balfour (Con.)
1905-1908 - Henry Campbell-Bannerman (Lib.)
1908-1915 - Herbert Henry Asquith (Lib.)
1893-1897 - Grover Cleveland (Dem.)
1897-1901 - William McKinley (Rep.)
1901-1909 - Theodore Roosevelt (Rep)
1909-1913 - William Howard Taft (Rep.)
1913-1921 - Woodrow Wilson (Dem.)
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£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
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He came down the gangway... ...with a light step in the summer
sunlight, with a soft grey hat canted rakishly over one eye, and a raincoat
slung carelessly over his shoulder. There was death in his pocket, and peril
of an even deadlier kind under his arm...
First, some examples:
Leslie Charteris: The Simon Templar Foundation
Note that not all of these examples are faithful to all of the stereotypes below.
Scenario Idea - Skeleton In The Closet
An enterprising reporter has learned of the Hero's origin, and wants to expose
the story to the full gaze of the public. Of course this would ruin the lives of
everyone involved, but that's nothing to an unscrupulous journalist with a
major scandal on his hands...
Scenario Idea - Who Did You Say?
The Hero arrives in a foreign city, whose natives don't know him, on routine
business. As he leaves the station he discovers that his papers have been
stolen; when he reaches his hotel an impostor is already in the manager's office,
accompanied by three policemen, and claims that the Hero has stolen his luggage,
and must be planning some fraud. The impostor looks very like the Hero, and is
carrying the papers and other (forged) documents. He has answers for any
question that might be used to unmask him; he can even describe the contents of
the luggage!
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Scenario Idea - Facing The Music
As the adventurers (and especially the Hero) go about their business they gradually become aware that they are hearing amazingly appropriate music at unusually tense or exciting moments. It seems to be pure chance - there is always a phonograph, music box, player piano, street musician or brass band around at these crucial moments - but it always happens. Mention it occasionally; for example, when the adventurers are sneaking up on the Villain, comment on the fact that his henchmen seem to be distracted by a brass band in the street outside. Encourage the players to use the music as a hint of trouble ahead, and treat it as a running gag. Soon they will probably take it for granted. One day, preferably when they have done something less noble and heroic than usual, the music stops... and the adventurers' luck seems to go with it. Their plans start to fail more often, opponents are tougher and harder to surprise. Don't explain, don't give the players any way to find out what's going on. Continue the silence until the adventurers succeed in some unusually daring or noble feat - then start the music again. Never explain. Obviously this works best in a campaign with weird elements; but some excellent melodramatic fiction has self-referential jokes along these lines. |
3.1.1 - Anti-Heroes
Anti-Heroes are less common than Heroes or Villains, but may be an interesting
alternative to both. They commit crimes but do it in the style of a Hero. The most
heroic Anti-Heroes would never build a death trap, or plot the destruction of
Britain, but might target those who do such things, even if it means going well
outside the law. Less scrupulous Anti-Heroes are more interested in profit, or
set up as judge, jury and executioner of those they regard as undesirables, which
in many cases includes cabinet ministers (The Four Just Men - Edgar Wallace),
plutocrats (The Assassination Bureau Ltd. - Jack London), or royalty
(The Angel of the Revolution - George Griffith).
Where a hero might see a feud developing and try to defuse the situation, an
Anti-Hero would try to make things worst and take advantage of the situation
(A Fistful of Dollars) to earn more money or eliminate its participants.
For various reasons several characters who might be counted as Anti-Heroes
have instead been listed as Heroes in the previous section. The Saint is the
most obvious; he is listed as a Hero because most of his crimes targeted far
nastier criminals, he never hurt the innocent, and he usually gave a share of
his profits to charity. More typical examples include: Generate Anti-Heroes as Heroes. Most of the same limitations and advantages
apply, but chivalrous conduct is less common; Anti-Heroes MAY strike the
first blow, fire the first shot, etc., sometimes harm women, and often choose
to use extremely powerful weapons. They can lie to their heart's content, and
won't hesitate to cheat or steal, or even murder to further their schemes. They are often cads;
female Anti-Heroes also have interesting love lives. While British
Anti-Heroes may share the usual prejudices about foreigners, it is NOT mandatory.
Some may instead have wily foreign accomplices.
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My blood froze. My heart sickened. My brain whirled. How I
had liked this villain! How I had admired him! How my liking and
admiration must turn to loathing and disgust. I waited for the
change. I longed to feel it in my heart. But -- I longed and I waited
in vain!
The Ides of March - E.W. Hornung
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Scenario Idea - A Message From Home
An adventurer's wily foreign accomplice (WFA) receives an urgent telegram from his (foreign) home; his sister has been kidnapped by members of a rival tribe (or Tong, clan, Mafia family, whatever is appropriate) and is being held for an exorbitant ransom; they have been given a few days to find the money. Naturally his family doesn't have the money, even the adventurer would have trouble finding that much. In any case the WFA believes that his sister will be murdered if the ransom is paid; only the hope of getting the money is preventing it. If the WFA takes the first ship / train / whatever he should get home a day or two before the deadline; this might give him a slim chance of rescuing his sister, since he knows roughly where her captors are based. If not he plans to avenge her. Is the adventurer going to stay out of this? If not, will the WFA ever return, and can the adventurer manage without him? And is there any possibility of profiting from the situation...? This is a good way to get the adventurer into action on unfamiliar ground, and with time pressures and extreme penalties for failure. |
Anti-Heroes can adopt most of the same traits as heroes; they are often illegitimate, often wealthy, frequently disguised, and sometimes rich. They can be swashbuckling, but sneakiness is often more useful. Impersonations and disguises are common; A.J. Raffles committed his first crime while impersonating a bank manager [RAF], and spent much of his later career posing as an elderly invalid, while The Saint posed as Sebastian Tombs so often that he had to open a bank account under that name. They are very rarely amnesiac. They are often doomed, or take on missions that are certain to result in their death (The Assassination Bureau Ltd.). Three additional traits are common amongst Anti-Heroes:
See Villains, below, for traits that may be appropriate to some Anti-Heroes.
It may seem that there is no down-side to being an Anti-Hero, but referees should try to ensure that there are disadvantages. Anti-Heroes are rarely trusted, and are usually disliked by both sides of the law. Raffles spent most of his career on the run from the police, but was also targeted by various criminals. They should encounter violence at least as often as heroes, and can't call on the police and other authorities for help.
Anti-Heroes are rarely a good choice for players if there will be several other characters in a game, but work well if there are only one or two other players. Remember that Anti-Heroes often work alone, or at cross purposes to other players, and that it may be necessary to develop separate plot strands for them.
Any theme tune for an Anti-Hero should emphasise these qualities; lonely saxophone or double-bass themes are good, strident marches or anthems should be avoided.
3.2 - Romantic Leads
"Oh, no! my father; the enthusiasm of knowledge, the applauses of the
powerful, may for a time, have weaned him from us but my own kind, gentle,
Frankenstein, can never be inhuman."
Examples: Romantic Leads are built on 18 points with no special requirements.
They are best run as NPCs, since players may find the role somewhat limiting.
Male characters cannot easily take on the attributes of a Romantic Lead, but
male NPCs may take a similar role in adventures with a Heroine; naturally
comments related to attractiveness etc. are reversed.
Most Romantic Leads have four special attributes: There are some exceptions to these general rules, with some Romantic Leads
showing moderate to high levels of competence. Patricia Holme, a character in
many of Leslie Charteris' Saint stories, is a good example. Another is Patricia
Savage, cousin of Doc Savage.
Additionally, all Romantic Leads may have one or more of the following
problems [all available, with suitable modifications, for male
characters]: Is the admirer simply obsessed with the Romantic Lead, or is there some other
reason for the interest in her movements? Could there be some other
motive for the surveillance, with romance just a clever cover? It's up to you
to decide.
If the Romantic Lead is an NPC, an interesting plot twist might have the
"musicians" turn out to be disguised detectives, on the trail of a ruthless
murderess. Possibly it's the Romantic Lead, actually a Femme Fatale, possibly
a case of mistaken identity.
Naturally she has no proof of her allegations, and (since it is supposedly a
secluded order) it is almost impossible to gain access to the convent to
investigate.
This works best if the Romantic Lead is an NPC and there is some reason to
doubt her word; for example, the adventurers might be visited by an eminent
alienist (psychologist) who claims that she was confined to the convent for
her own good, and to protect her family from her irrational violence. It might
even be true... See The Woman In White by Wilkie Collins for an example
of a similar situation. See the Scenario Idea Skeleton In The Closet, in section 3.1 above.
Romantic Leads should also have a theme tune; regardless of the instrument,
it must be played romantically. Violin and piano pieces are appropriate; there
should be sad overtones.
3.3 - Villains
"...Presently, when all is complete I shall press the lever, the
machinery will be set in motion, and you will find yourself being slowly and
surely ground into powder. Then you will hand over what I want, and be sorry
you ever thought to baulk Dr. Nikola!"
"There are foolish criminals who are discovered, and wise criminals
who escape. The hiding of a crime, or the detection of a crime, what is it? A
trial of skill between the police on one side, and the individual on the other.
When the criminal is a brutal, ignorant fool, the police, in nine cases out of
ten, win. When the criminal is a resolute, educated, highly-educated man, the
police, in nine cases out of ten, lose."
The world is full of villains. A few obvious examples include It's important to distinguish between mere thugs, everyday petty Villains such as
crooked lawyers or murderous husbands, and the Masters of Villainy
found in the most far-fetched melodrama. Petty Villains may suffer pangs of
conscience, or have incompetent hirelings; they may kill someone with their
fists, or break into a shop to steal a few pounds. Masters of Villainy rarely
have a conscience, and since their henchmen can make mincemeat of most
opponents, seldom need to get their own hands dirty. If they need cash, they'll
break into the Bank of England and steal a few million.
This section largely deals with the more extreme forms of evil, with an
occasional nod towards petty Villains. Thugs are usually the henchmen and
hirelings of Masters of Villainy.
Villains are usually run by the referee, and there may be problems if they
are run by players; most notably, it is rarely possible to run the same Villain
for more than one adventure. If generated by players, start off with 28 points,
but no Bonus Points may be kept back, and MIND must be at least 4. Up to 4 points
may be added to skills, not the usual 3. Players running Villains should remember
that in most melodramatic plots they are probably fated to lose.
Petty Villains are generated on 21 points, with no special rules.
Most Villains need henchmen. Player-run Villains must find and recruit
their own underlings, always running the risk that they may inadvertently take
on a disguised Hero, an incompetent, an informer, or someone who aspires to
Villainhood over the adventurer's dead body. No rules are provided for this
recruitment process, since it should occur in play. For example, a Villain
hoping to recruit some Henchmen might encourage petty thieves to attempt to
pick his pocket, catch them in the act, and "persuade" them to take him to
meet more competent members of the profession. Once one or two competent
Henchmen have been recruited, the Villain may leave them to carry on finding
additional personnel. Optionally a character may be assumed to have gone
through this process before play begins. The quality of recruits should be
related to the rewards offered; for instance, in a Victorian campaign ten
shillings a week will hire an average thug, a thousand a year and a chance of
participating in the subjugation of Britain should attract someone exceptional -
but there will be several unsuitable applicants, who must be eliminated (with
extreme prejudice if necessary) before a final choice is made. Common flaws in
the best Henchmen may include impulsiveness, sadism, too much ambition, greed,
the faint stirrings of a conscience, lecherousness, and a desire to take on the
Hero on his own terms, rather than using the Villain's elaborate methods. Some
flawed Henchmen may even think it's a good idea to shoot the Hero instantly,
rather than messing around with traps and alligators. Naturally any self-respecting
Villain will soon get rid of such riff-raff.
A typical NPC Villain has one or more highly competent Henchmen (e.g. Oddjob,
Colonel Sebastian Moran) who act as his Lieutenants, several competent
underlings, and a pool of lesser personnel appropriate to the needs of the
scenario. For example, a Villain planning a massive forgery operation would
recruit forgers, chemists, and printers to prepare plates and inks and print
the money, and would need a distribution network to handle it once printed,
plus a few "minders" to ensure that nothing goes astray. For a protection
racket violence is probably the most important qualification, and most of the
personnel will be thugs of various degrees of sophistication, but there might
also be a place for skilled technicians such as arsonists and locksmiths. A
petty Villain will have a few thugs or servants available; usually they are no
real threat to a determined Hero.
As a rough guide, give NPC Villains a pool of personnel built on around
150-200 points (30 points for petty Villains); give players around 50 points
in their first round of recruitment, adding more as they expand their evil
empires. For example, Professor Moriarty's gang might include
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"Oh, it did me good to see the way that these brave men worked.
How can women help loving men when they are so earnest, so true, and so brave!
And, too, it made me think of the wonderful power of money!"
Bram Stoker: Dracula
Frankenstein (1826 play)
Example: in dim light, and in a moment of stupidity, one of the adventurers
fires a shot at the Romantic Lead, mistaking her for a thug. The bullet glances
off one of the whalebone struts of her corset, leaving her alive but winded
and badly bruised.
[Male romantic leads don't have this advantage; their
death often motivates the plot!]
Scenario Idea - Facing The Music II
An unknown admirer is pestering the Romantic Lead with flowers, gifts - and
musicians. Whenever she leaves her house she is accosted by street violinists
who have been hired to follow her and play romantic music (her theme); they
have been paid to keep silent about the identity of the person who hired them,
or possibly are frightened to say anything, Sooner or later, she is sure, the
instigator of this strange harassment will announce himself and expect to sweep
her off her feet. Unfortunately there are signs that the violinists aren't just
following her to serenade her; when accosted by the Romantic Lead or her friends,
one of them drops a notebook which lists her movements over the last several days...
Scenario Idea - Brides of ???
The Romantic Lead has done more than contemplate a religious life; she has
joined a convent, only to discover that there is something very
odd about the religion being practised there. She has gone over the wall and is
looking for help, but there seem to be some very strange people taking an
interest in her activities.
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"...He has had reason to know that I am pitting my wits against
his, and he flatters himself that so far he has got the better of me. That is
because I am drawing him on. I am maturing a plan that will make him a poor
and a very miserable man at one and the same time..."
A Bid for Fortune [Guy Boothby 1895]
ibid; later in the same speech
The Woman In White [Wilkie Collins 1860]
Plus various beggars etc. on 1-2 points, with low characteristics and no
skills, acting as informants, look-outs, etc. Note that all of these personnel
will want paying, and must be monitored for loose lips, ambition, treachery,
replacement by disguised Heroes, etc. The larger the gang, the less
controllable it becomes. While Moriarty's organisation was never described in
much detail by Doyle, several books by later authors have gone into it in depth;
see especially the "Moriarty" novels by John Gardner, and Michael Kurland's "The
Infernal Device" and sequels.
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The Black Hand is an organisation that often appears in melodrama of this
period; it's an exaggerated precursor of the Mafia, generally described as employing
most of the Italians in Britain. Ice cream sellers, street musicians, waiters,
even Italian Counts may belong to the sinister gang, and their ruthlessness and
codes of silence and vendetta make them formidable enemies. Raffles takes on the Black Hand in
two of the later stories; The Fate of Faustina and The Last Laugh. Count Fosco
(in The Woman In White) is obviously a renegade member of this gang, and is ultimately
killed by his former associates.
Advantages of the Black Hand include its ubiquitous nature - any Italian is potentially a member, and its influence may stretch much wider - and the fact that it is a larger organisation than any one Villain could realistically control. It is thus possible for a Villain to be defeated, but turn out to belong to the Black Hand, leaving the adventurers hunted by a large ruthless organisation. On the downside, the Black Hand is very much a cliche of the genre, and may be expected by players who are familiar with melodrama. They may start to assume that all Italians are automatically suspect, and responsible for every crime, ignoring clues that point in other directions. There are also unpleasant racist overtones to this organisation's use in the genre. Alternatives to the Black Hand include the Sai Fan (Doctor Fu Manchu's organisation, similarly employing most Chinese in Europe), Anarchists (see FF V for more on this "organisation"), agencies of the Tsar and Kaiser, and sprawling "international arms cartels" (often presented as run by Jews) prepared to sell any weapon to the highest bidder. All have similar uses and disadvantages. |
While organisations are useful, they are not compulsory. For instance, in The Woman In White Count Fosco is called in as a "Consulting Villain", to help organise Sir Percival Glide's persecution of Laura Fairlie and secure her £20,000 inheritance, hiring local help as needed rather than setting up an elaborate organisation.
Obviously the needs of a particular adventure may change things considerably; a Villain might act alone, or have the resources of an army or a nation under his control. Sometimes one or more underlings will have some special ability or skill (such as psychic powers) needed for the particular crime in progress. Various criminal organisations described in the Modesty Blaise novels by Peter O'Donnell are excellent examples for the referee; Modesty Blaise and I, Lucifer are particularly recommended, the latter offering an imaginative Villainous use for psychic powers.
Villains have several special limitations and abilities:
How does a Villain change a lightbulb? Kidnap the Romantic Lead's father and persuade her to sign over the deeds to his light-bulb factory, fake scientific evidence to prove that all other makes of light bulb emit dangerous N-Rays, corner the market with a "new, improved, N-Ray free filament", and use the profits to fund a South American revolution. Use the power base in South America to acquire the resources needed to build a citadel in the Antarctic, and put a new light-bulb in the citadel. Kill the father, plant a penguin feather in the cuff of his trousers, and dump his body where the Hero will find it. Tie the Romantic Lead to a chair under the light-bulb in the citadel, surround her with cunning booby-traps, and wait for the Hero to arrive. When the Hero has been destroyed by the booby-traps twirl your moustache, take the Romantic Lead and light-bulb home, force the former into marriage (she'll thank you for it in the end) and the latter into its holder. It's an old trick, but it might just work...
A petty Villain would omit the South American phase and put the lightbulb in a sawmill in the country, strap the Romantic Lead to a conveyor belt under it, and have a few thugs waiting to bludgeon the Hero and throw him on the belt when he arrives. A thug would get some henchmen and attempt to kick the Hero to death without bothering about the light bulb, then steal one afterwards.
If the Villain is an adventurer, referees should feel free to object to any plan that doesn't seem to be complex enough. If it doesn't take several minutes to explain it isn't complex enough! NPC Villains should usually develop plans that are much more complex, but occasionally produce a plot that's fiendishly simple when adventurers are expecting complexity.
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Scenario Idea - Now Here's My Plan...
The adventurers are recruiting henchmen for an NPC villain. He has given them a peculiar list of skills to find; some examples might include a locksman who speaks fluent Yiddish, a legless beggar who is a crack shot, a dog trainer, a street musician who knows how to work a camera, and a telegraph operator who can send at least 50 words per minute. Another team is set to work finding equipment; for example, a dozen barrels of beer, two cylinders of laughing gas, a sailing barge, maps of the London sewers, and a Congreve line-carrying rocket with line and grapnels. While the adventurers are putting this team together the Villain is killed, accidentally run down by a runaway Hanson cab. His diary indicates that he intended to steal the Crown Jewels, but says nothing about how he planned to do it. The adventurers also find that there is little money left, and the rest of the gang seem to be looking to them for leadership. Can they possibly work out the details of the robbery, and pull it off? Note: The personnel and equipment outlined above are simply examples, as is the target of the crime. Referees are advised to pick a target, work out a plan (with the equipment and personnel needed to pull it off), then give the adventurers the list without any clues to the plan. Optionally add at least one red herring to the equipment list, something that will be difficult to find, dangerous to use, and is irrelevant to the original plan. |
If a Villain cannot explain his plan (because any explanation would make it impossible to carry out, as in The Vampire), he will explain it in Asides (see the glossary above, and section 3.5 below) or to his own underlings.
With the exception above Villains NEVER carry out the final step of their fiendish plan until it has been explained to the Hero. This may involve a delay of two or three days until the Hero actually arrives or has been captured! Even if the plan can't be explained, the Hero must be present for the final act.
All of these conventions may be broken at the referee's whim:
"... Do you seriously think I'd explain my master-stroke if there remained the slightest chance of you affecting its outcome?"
"I did it thirty-five minutes ago."
The Watchmen (Alan Moore 1987)
A well-rounded Villain should also have at least one of the following motives; some are not suitable for petty Villains or Villains run as adventurers:
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Scenario Idea - Skeleton In The Closet II
An enterprising reporter has learned of the Villain's origin, and wants to expose the story to the full gaze of the public. Of course this would ruin the lives of everyone involved, but that's nothing to an unscrupulous journalist with a major scandal on his hands. Naturally, the Villain has other ideas; he's earning a comfortable living blackmailing his family, and doesn't want to ruin them until he's ready to take the maximum possible advantage of the situation. That won't be for several months, meanwhile the reporter is threatening to rock the boat. Some means of... discouraging him must be found, but unfortunately he seems to have taken the precaution of leaving copies of various papers with an unknown lawyer. The adventurers are the Villain and his henchmen, and must find a way to silence the reporter or discredit him. |
Note: Insanity may, very rarely, be usable as a motive for heroes. See especially Rorschach (The Watchmen) and some analyses of Batman's behaviour.
Villains should also have one or more distinguishing characteristics:
For instance, an assassin might choose the theme of the old song, The Twelve Days of Christmas. He murders a Mr. Partridge and leave his body in a pear tree on the first day of Christmas, kills famous vaudeville stars the Yodelling Bird Twins on the second, and so forth. Only one set of victims, the Gold family (poisoned with strychnine, their bodies found bent into hoops by their convulsions on the fifth day), are important to the scheme; the Villain will inherit their vast fortune. Naturally he must go on to complete the pattern to cover his tracks, giving opportunities to stop him at the House of Lords, a dairy, and so forth.
Examples include The A.B.C. Murders (Agatha Christie), The Abominable Doctor Phibes and sequels, and episodes of The Avengers and New Avengers.
Immortality is another popular choice; the Villain can apparently be killed, but always comes back to seek revenge. Even the destruction of his body may not be enough to prevent this. Lord Ruthven is again an example, another is the cinematic version of Ming The Merciless.
Rare NPC Villains may be in league with the Devil, or may actually be the Devil incarnate, and control extraordinary magical abilities. If this occurs there must always be a loophole, a way to turn these powers against the forces of darkness, which should be telegraphed to the adventurers well in advance of the final conflict. The trick may be as simple as using a mirror to reflect the evil forces back at their source, or as difficult as stealing and destroying an amulet containing the Villain's soul. Forgotten Futures does not include extensive magical rules, but in any case these powers can largely be seen as special effects affecting NPCs or the scenery, or as attacks on one or another characteristic, as described above.
Petty villains very rarely have uncanny powers.
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Scenario Idea - Who Steals My Purse
The Villain encounters an unforeseen problem; one of the banks he uses collapses, gutted by directors who have engineered a massive fraud. The Police are baffled; the paper trail is so complex, and so many documents have been destroyed, that it seems to be impossible to find out where the money has gone. The Villain has lost a sizeable amount of money, and there is an even more urgent problem; all of the bank's assets, including the contents of its safe deposit vault, are slowly being searched by the police, looking for clues to the fraud. The Villain has hidden some vital evidence in one of the boxes, and it's only a matter of time before the police open it. In the short term, the contents of the box must be retrieved; looting the entire vault would be a good (and extremely profitable) cover. In the long term, various Henchmen are already whispering that the Villain might be losing his touch; surely he should have realised that the bank was shaky. To keep their respect it's essential that the directors must be caught and punished in a suitably horrific fashion. |