I start scribbling notes to my Werewolf game, London's Burning. The playlist in my head features a lot of the Clash, the Sex Pistols, the Kinks, and that sort of thing. I start writing pregens, because trying to do character creation at a con is a nightmare. I resolve to finish the setting notes and the pack's totem on the plane.
Six pre-gens done. In less than two hours, I know. Shadows of the UK was fantastic training in making Werewolf characters. All I really need to check are the Auspice skills (ever notice how pregens are missing their specialities in those skills a lot of the time), the rules for starting with two-dot Gifts, and the Gift lists. I'm running purely with the corebooks, which simplifies matters.
Finish slinging books and sheets into my bag, stick my mobile on charge, and make sure I have all the useful printouts either in my bag or in my vest of many pockets. Go to bed.
My alarm sounds. Fucker. I crawl out of bed and look for a clean t-shirt.
Out of the house. Still dark, unsurprisingly. All the piss-heads have gone. Bloody cold, glad I have this cloak with me. The wankers on the bus give me weird looks, but they're shivering. The fools.
Online check-in is my friend. No need to show up at the desk, just one last puff of the pipe and a can of Red Bull before security.
Plane departs. I busy myself writing notes for both Æternal Legends and Werewolf. I check the sheets so I know what to add.
In central Milton Keynes. Apparently, the people who designed this place didn't notice that man had legs. Everywhere's for cars, with "Pedestrians do not have priority" signs—weird, because we bloody do in the rest of the UK. There's also no fucking phone signal. What are these people, primitives? Second can of Red Bull.
Arrive, after a slight mis-step, at the right location. Wolverton reminds me a lot of Stafford, it doesn't have the same design insanity that MK proper does. Everyone's friendly, but it does seem like everyone else knows each other. Check the sign up sheets. No takers.
I've no takers, so I shamelessly shunt Æternal Legends to the evening slot to provide a second warm body for Star Trek: Oracle. I've not seen Trek since the second season of Voyager and some of the films, but that doesn't matter. The game's a great deal of fun, the characters hold together really well, and I get to say "We come in peace, shoot to kill." Though the only violence is between two other PCs. Oh, and we kicked a quantum torpedo at a crystalline matrix holding uploaded aliens. Sold one copy of Æternal Legends to a fellow player after the game ended.
An hour and a half before the afternoon session kicks off. I have a chance to sit down with dandelionclock and talk shop, ranging from politics (we both wear ours on our sleeve when writing) to wordcounts to our experiences working for different developers. It's good to have a chance to do that. I've a feeling I might be able to talk him up to Conpulsion.
London's Burning has six players. Everyone grabs a pregen, and I go through the sheet, the basic rules, and the setting. The characters beat up some skinheads, do some investigation, batter a few spirits into providing information, talk to a bakery that's not there anymore, and engage in some industrial espionage. Which helps them—in the end, they can take down the Big Gribbly One. Thanks to applying things that slash it's stats by a third each time. Everyone seems to enjoy themselves, and two people confide that they're actually going to look at Werewolf: The Forsaken where before they would have ignored it.
I set off to find this travelodge. Shouldn't be too far, the map didn't show any major problems. Only a couple of miles. I'll chance it on foot.
Bugger a couple of miles. I've just crossed a county fucking boundary.
Arrive, at last. Get checked in so I have a place to sleep, and see about a taxi back to the con.
Wood's Vampire game has a lot of players. The others are all milling around—five games scheduled, but nobody's sure what they want to play. I throw some copies of Æternal Legends around and convince five people to give it a shot. Unlike London's Burning, this game (Keys to the Kingdom) doesn't go quite as planned. I think that's because the former game was deliberately a series of loose scenes, while I had more of a concrete idea behind the second one that didn't survive contact with players. I sank a couple or three cans of Carlsberg while playing, and the game came to a satisfactory conclusion. Two of the players thought it was good enough to buy, which was nice.
Kick out. Lots of people head off. Things get a bit fuzzy.
Back to the fucking airport.