Odds are, you won't live to see tomorrow

Kit Pike is a golden boy FBI agent recently recruited to Delta Green, tasked with investigating the occurrences around Point Pleasant, West Virginia in November of 1966. He has a strict jogging schedule, an ankle gun, a repressed interest in musical theatre, and he's willing to die horribly in the defense of the local makeout point. For the good of America.

108. The Unbearable Madness of Being

This is a long one. But worth getting to the end. Nothing makes us suffer more than our own minds. The first part is a poem - the second is a rough transcript about a young drug addict and schizophrenic called Richard. This is all about his struggle against delusion and psychosis - his struggle to live and to die

"Dekay of timber, lead and glass The Great Hall is fallen down Ruyne of this castell is compleet” Thomas Manners, 1st Earl of Rutland, 1538, talking about Nottingham Castle A winter of speed and ice-cold vodka hidden behind the skip, in a cleaner’s bucket cooled by the falling snow. Yes, he was lonely but never left alone. His gods told him things: a constant stream of the ways things should be. Even in his dreams, he sat amongst them, always, on the fringes of underworld society learning about real power.

Heroin, when he could get it, flicking syringes and tightening belts and dirty yellow rubber tubes; sitting in a council flat that had slowly spiralled, and come to mean nothing to him but somewhere to negate the pull of gravity - somewhere to stub out your fags - line up the lager cans. And under the bed he keeps the only fragments of his life left Like his precious Wilson Staff 100 junior His stroke is still text book - and being a small man the raquet still does him well and photos - I don’t know who made me smile like that I look like a little demon - somebody was making me happy And the scar - like a sepia map of the Australia only visible when his hair was shaved closely. In and out of the fortress - always on the suicide watch He wants to kill himself but not because he is sad His gods promise him a crown on Boxing day They say the deadline is immovable - prepare a way That’s all they seem to care about Prepare a way and we will make you King Consequently - in the walls of the fortress Richard feels quite perky - looking forward to Christmas But he needs to win a game with his warders before they’ll let him home His Christmas gifts for his mum and his nan are cheap but thoughtful For Richard the boiling oil came from someone he should be able to trust not tipped from above the portcullis - but from a chip pan by a stepfather one of a long long line of men his mother needed for the drugs/drink/rent

Richard's story

“Things aren’t going to well. Hopefully I’ll heal and get away from the drugs” He threatened someone with a (neighbour) with a knife and assaulted a nurse - put in the Willows - intensive care ward for psychiatric patients.

Richard believes everyone can hear voices but nobody will admit it to him

“The gods won’t let me brush my teeth - I pulled this girl in a night club - she kissed me - “Wait a minute I don’t want to know you - your breath stinks”. But the gods won’t let me wash your teeth.”

He has hallucinations, hears voices and his thinking is delusional. Believes in the gods and their words with the conviction that anyone believes their own thoughts. Since 19 (listens to his gods). Talking to psychiatrist:

“Life is mad - noone else in the history of time is like me … gods will give me spirit to rule England. I’m going to get four bags into the syringe and try and get them into my arm. If I die and end up in hell then I’ll be happy. Now if I take it and I don’t die and I wake up the next day - it’ll mean the gods are messing me about - because the gods have told me that I’m going to hell on Christmas day - hell for me would be great - so if I wake up Boxing day and I’m not dead and I’m not in hell I’ll be right pissed off because that just means everything is fucked, do you know what I mean?”

“When I was young and my mum had a boyfriend and they were both pissed - he was six - scared shitless - threw it at his mum - his mum was scared you see - she didn’t want to get beaten up - the guy who did it didn’t want to leave the house - she got him to hospital eventually”

Richard looking at a photo of himself when he was a young boy

“Better looking when I was younger - at 5 - looked stocky - went on holiday - you looked like a happy kid - yeah I was on holiday - it was good time -  crikey - I look different there - I’ve got a fish. Crikey I don’t know who that is making me smile like that. i look like a little demon. This is me when I was about nine or ten - my eyes look a bit tired - that’s me when I was about twelve - this is me on holiday - I worked out a bit there - you can see my chest is a bit bigger - I liked it on holiday - it was nice. 

Were you happy at that age?

Long pause: “I think so yeah. I was abused when I was at secondary school - once I was abused my school time wasn’t very good because I knew that people knew. Abused sexually by the head teacher - didn’t tell the head - should have done really. 14 if you do it at the age of 14 then society tends to say that it’s your fault - your advanced enough - but I wasn’t - I hadn’t had a girl friend.”

A few months later - just before being forced back (sectioned) into a mental hospital

“I was awake all night - I had some speed - it was good - so I had some more. At some point I’ll stick the needle in my arm and I’ll wake up in hell hopefully.

Everybody knows there’s an afterlife - everybody knows there’s a hell and a heaven. I could take this overdose and go to hell and get loads of spirit and when I get out of hell I’ll be king of england and then one day I’ll be master of the  universe.h

In hospital for more than 4 months. Richard’s home is a flat - housing association - but hasn’t been home since he was sectioned. Going with a member of staff to collect his mail. The flat is filthy - covered in beer cans, syringes and general squalor. Richard is visibly ashamed.

“Bloody hell - excuse me it’s really really lousy in here. Someone must have broken in and when they couldn’t find anything - obviously I’m not happy about the state of my flat. It’s usually untidy but it aint like this - somebody’s broken in and sorted it for money. Strange even thought it looks the state it does it still seems like home. Only take a couple of hours tops to tidy it up. Someone’s been having heroin or crack - now this is probably one of my oldest possessions - think of that what you will - and this is a Wilson staff 100 junior - I’m only a small bloke so I don’t a full size racket - no pun intended - I miss playing tennis.”

After leaving hospital he tries to overdose - put it in his arm - 30 seconds and he passed out. Was not alone. Next time - on Christmas Day he will make sure that he is on his own. He talks to his psychiatrist - faking a positive outlook.

“Let’s face it there’s no such thing as the afterlife - when you’ve lived your life you’ve lived your live. The idea that I would become superior in the afterlife is nonsense. There’s no such as an afterlife. I want to get out there and pull a chick - I want to make my grandmother a great grandmother. I’ve got no intention to commit suicide - I want to live life.”

As Christmas approaches Richard talks to the camera

“It’s a bit annoying to be moved to this ward.”

Paranoid that the nurses were taking energy from him. Shouting at nurses. 

“At Christmas I’m going to take a heroin overdose and die - I’ll be honest - I’ll say I feel fine - say I’m happy - I’m not going to commit suicide - I’ll get out of hospital and go an do it.”

Despite his plans to kill himself he’s feeling festive. He goes into Bulwell (Nottinghamshire).

 “It’s only a small shopping centre but has three pound shops and 3 charity shops - it’s wicked - y’know what I mean. This - you know sometimes you don’t get a present because you think about it sometimes something just jumps out at you. Well at the time it just jumped out at me - it’s like I like the design the aluminium and plastic but the problem is - it’s, like, a whisk. Why’s he bought me a bloody whisk but she’s stopped drinking and she’s not eating that much she needs to do more cooking - so that’s why I bought mum a whisk and this - the only way to get alcohol into my gran is in liquer chocolates so I’m going to forcefeed gran liqueur chocolates all day Christmas and see if I can get gran pissed. Wraps presents. Apparently you should have a glass of wine and some music -

After another session with the psychiatrist.

I talked to them about my gods - and they wouldn’t let me out - so I decided not to talk to them about my voices and hopefully people will think I’m a bit more sane. Doesn’t look that way - not home for christmas - maybe a couple of hours to give my family their presents and open mine. I was reading a book by the Dalai Llama that tells you to think of those worse off than you. I get food and a fair bit of money that’s good - but not everything is good. Basically yeah I ‘ll commit suicide when I get a chance to. Not at Christmas - yeah I’ve been told that I can do it anytime after Christmas and go to hell - whenever they let me out I’ll just commit suicide - that’s the good thing - usually I have to wait until Christmas. To get big in spirit and train to become a king. So that’s the good side of things at the moment. Doesn’t have to be at Christmas. 

Your gods have told you that have they? 

“Yeah. Sometimes I wish that I didn’t have gods - makes things difficult. But what am I meant to do? 

I’m looking for another word for shopping - give me another word for shopping.”

Why do you need another word - BIG LAUGHTER

“I dunno - BIG LAUGH - why why does the snow fall on the grass?

Is that it - yeah - is that - do you know when you’re filming do you reach a pause like that? Yeah - like a natural pause - and that’s where you’re meant to stop. Great - you learn something everyday.”

4 months later he died of a suspected overdose.

4th September 2019

Pick Pocket

✨I’M BACK! Hi guys summer is here and I am so happy to finally have some free time on my hands to write more, and I’m so excited! Keep sending requests and asks because I’m here to answer whatever you throw at me, and since I’ve been gaining even MORE followers ((wow wth 500?? I’m still in awe from just the first 10)) I’ve been thinking about doing a face reveal? Tell me if you think that’s a good idea or not cuz I love hearing all of your feedback! Without further ado, here’s the first imagine of the summer!✨

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was late, and darker than what you had originally planned. Even so, you tried to shake off the uneasy pit growing in your stomach and continued to walk as confidently as you could out of your school and back to your house. Originally, the study session was only supposed to last a few hours after school, which yeah I guess it did only last until 6:30, but the winter sky made the sun creep towards the horizon faster than when these study sessions first started. Nonetheless you hitched your backpack further up your shoulder and decided that it’d be better to spend as little time outside as possible from the growing chill in the air. Of course you remembered all of the books and movies and stories on TV about bad things coming from taking the short way and going through the rough part of town or the busy city alleyways, but this area wasn’t that bad, and those sorts of things don’t happen to people like you, who has always had about average grades, average experiences, average looks, average life basically. You’ve taken this route before, many times actually, so this should be easy-peasy, and faster than usual so you’d be able to get home just in time to call Y/F/N to ask about whether she got any further with the guy she’s been seeing lately. Walking a bit faster down the busy streets back to your house and farther from the safety of school you were met with the flow of traffic and people making their way home from a day of work, most seeming friendly enough. But just making sure that nobody were to give you a weird look and kidnap you, you decided that keeping your head down was the best option, at least for now. Occasionally you’d look up to check signs and lights to see whether you were going the right way but other than that the bright lights and faces of the people went by in a blur, almost so fast that you didn’t notice the person coming towards you looking behind their shoulder, and ramming themselves into you. Hard. You stop almost in your tracks nearly falling over, brushing your hair that flew into your face, and look up only to come face to face with Y/C/N, “Hey, watch it… oh sorry Y/C/N, I didn’t-” He quickly weaved his hand into yours, cutting you off, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you Y/N! Where have you been?” You tried to hide the slight blush that crept across your face and ears and fumbled around with an answer. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion at this sudden warmth from the person who’s never uttered a word to you except to ask for a mere pencil on time in middle school. You never really talked to him because he was known to get into trouble, which I guess could be sorta hot at times, but you’ve heard your fair share of stories about him getting expelled and yelled at by teachers to know to keep your distance, no matter how popular he was. He must have sensed your confusion as he led you in the other direction, leaning down closer to your ear he lowly muttered, “Follow me, and don’t ask any questions - there’s no time.” His breath grazed your face and sent shivers down your spine in the already chilly air, “I-I’m so confused wha-.” "Were you even listening to what I said? God out of all people…” He trailed off, running his free hand through his hair and checking behind the both of you anxiously. While questions and emotions were running through your head faster than Usain Bolt, he suddenly caught you off guard by randomly shoving you both into an empty alleyway. He pushed you down behind a dumpster and sat down next to you abruptly. In the darkness could only barely make out his silhouette, but it was hard to imagine this boy who usually had a cheesy smile stretched to his ears laughing and back talking to teachers be here, sitting next to you with lines creasing his forehead and hunched shoulders looking nervous and tense. "There’s no time to explain the whole situation, but long story short, I may have done a bad job at pickpocketing, which surprisingly, pisses some people off when they find your hand down their pants searching for their wallet,” he laughed dryly, looking around the dumpster to the street, “Yeah I guess pops didn’t do a very good job of teaching me how to get out of this sort of situation, so I guess we’ll just have to figure this out for ourselves,” Anger flashed across your face, “Wait, wait, wait, hold on for one second, what’s this ‘we’ stuff? What do you need me for?” He glanced quickly at you, only to return to scan the alleyway, “Cover? Accomplice? I dunno, maybe if they saw me with someone else they would be less likely to suspect me? At this point I have no idea.” "This sounds like a you problem,” C/N turned slightly more toward you, still scouring the entrance of the alleyway, “Well now it’s both our problems, so just chill and let me think.” You paused, considering the pros and cons of asking, but asked anyway, "What I don’t understand is your need to pickpocket innocent people,” you said with more confidence, making him stare you straight in the eyes for the first time since he grabbed your hand, “No wonder that guy is mad as hell, I’d be too if something like that happened to me!” He smirked slightly but you felt a change of tone in his voice, somehow turning even colder than before, “Who are you, my mom?” "But it’s wrong! And illegal! And dangerous!” "I can do whatever I want okay, the sooner you shut up the sooner we can get out of… this whole thing.” You thought back to when you once were talking with your friends about him and you had imagined what it’d be like talking to C/N outside of school, with just the two of you together. Usually it involved him laughing at all of your jokes and you using your amazing flirting skills to win over his heart, but definitely not whatever this was. Not at all like this actually. A couple of minutes passed, each passing minute feeling like an hour, especially with the newfound thought of hour close the two of you were together. Thankfully, or maybe not so thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice, or care even. Whenever you managed to steal a glance at C/N’s frame, your eyes having adjusted to the darkness, you could feel the wheels turning in his mind. You, of course, with never dealing with anything like this, pulling a blank at what to do. Half of you even thought to just stand up and walk out. Suddenly C/N’s harsh voice snapped your mind back to the situation at hand, “Okay I think have a plan, might not be 100% perfect, but we can improvise along the way.” Before you could even open your mouth to ask what it was, he dove right in before you, “Alrightie so, fun fact, I actually knew that guy, small world right?” He scratched the back of his head nervously and ran his hand through his messy hair, “Anyways, I don’t really have that great of a past with him, since the last time I was running away from him it was because I may or may not have stole from this store that he owns-” "This is pretty bad then,” you stated, cutting him off. "Um yeah no shit Sherlock,” he rolled his eyes but continued to talk as if you never interrupted him, “Well, I know this part of town pretty well so if we lay under the radar by cutting through the alleyways we can get back to my house without leaving an obvious trail and manage to stay out of the way of old man Jenkins back there,” He must have noticed your slightly worried face and quickly added, “Don’t worry I’ll try to get you back to your house, I just need you to be my cover.” "Well my house is back that way,” you began, pointing back by where C/N ran into you, “and how do you know I’ll even trust you?” "One, who wouldn’t trust this lovely face?” He answered, motioning towards his cheeky grin, “And two, you don’t understand my levels of talent, so prepare to be amazed.” He took one last glance to the entrance and quickly stood up, motioning you to follow suit, “Oh and by the way, could you tell me your address?” You reluctantly told him where you lived, and with a quick nod he started to lead you in and out of random alleyways and streets that must have used to be thriving, but now we’re almost deserted. You’d never been on this side of town before so you kept your guard up, darting your eyes over every object and jumping at every noise. Suddenly you heard a sharp noise, like a can being crushed underfoot, "Hey, um, sorry to deter you C/N,” you sheepishly said, tapping on his surprisingly but not not so surprisingly hard back, “but I have this crazy feeling that we’re being followed,” He scoffed and barely took notice, keeping his fast pace as if you hadn’t spoken. You decided to try again after you heard more noises coming from behind, drawing closer, "Hey, me again, I really really feel like someone following us and I think you should probably take some notice to it,” Again, nothing, just a short grunt and a change in direction into a different alleyway. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end, and you felt more afraid than you ever had in your life. You decided to channel that fear into ticked off-ness, “Fine if you don’t care, then don’t care, but if we die it’s your fault,” He huffed loudly in exasperation and turned around, still walking backwards, “As a matter of fact…” He suddenly stopped and you rammed into him for the second time this night, before you could react and yell some more at him, C/N threw you behind him. When you regained your balance and looked up you saw a burly man that looked like he came straight out of a gang. His broad shoulders flexed as he grinned madly and cracked his knuckles. As the shadowy man got closer you whispered to C/N, panic evident in your strained voice, “This is bad,” "You said that already.” He whispered back, not taking his calculating eyes off of the approaching threat. "I thought it was worth repeating.” "Look who we have here?” He spoke as if his words were coated in a thick layer of sickly sweet honey, “Robin Hood and Maid Marian, how sweet.” His voice suddenly laced with a thick layer of ice and you saw his beady eyes glint, “you’ll pay for what you did, I don’t let little shits like you run free, I can’t let you running around stealing more stuff from me, or anyone else,” C/N’s voice quickly piped up, “Robin Hood, never been called that one before, what’s next? Aladdin?” “Don’t be a smart ass boy,” there was a quick flash of silver as his fingers curled over the handle of the knife, “I won’t hesitate to give kids like you a lesson.” "Whatever you do just don’t hurt her,” C/N’s voice came out hard and commanding, you felt his hand grasp yours tight as he pushed you even further behind him, “I stole from you, not her,” "I guess that’ll be my decision to make,” It all happened in slow motion. You watched as the guy who followed the both of you lunge forward with the small knife in hand, C/N pushed you hard and as far away from the guy as he could, making you stumble to the ground with the air taken from your lungs. When you looked up gasping for breath you saw the guy on top of C/N, struggling to wrestle the knife out of C/N’s hand while also inching it closer to C/N’s exposed neck. You with whatever voice you had left you yelled to C/N, and silently urged him to beat the older and much heavier man. "Y/N!” You heard him grunt from where he was on the ground struggling, "Run! Get away!” There was no way you could just leave him, even if it meant not getting badly hurt by this guy, who could definitely take you down if he wanted to. You made a split second decision, and suddenly remembering the backpack still strapped to your back, and the heavy books inside, you shakily stood up. Adrenaline surged through your body, giving you a kick of strength and energy. With the burly man’s back to you, you leapt closer to him swinging your backpack at his balding head. The man looked You grimaced as you heard contact to his skull. The blow was harder than you expected. The man fell backwards and there was a sickening sound from when his back and head fell backwards onto the hard and dirty concrete. The knife clattered to the ground. You did it. Before you could react, your knees buckled under you and the ground suddenly started to sway. You just knocked a man out cold with your freaking backpack. You would’ve laughed if this were a movie, but now all you could feel was numb. Then his eyes met yours, and you felt a feeling of calm rush over you, and with unspoken grace C/N slowly rose and helped you back up. Slowly, with no words spoken, the both of you hobbled the way to your house, thankfully only a short distance away. The tension in the air was thick, and the shock still was settling into your skin. At a snail’s pace C/N led you back to your house. There was only one light left on inside the house, and the only sound was the soft padding of both your feet on your driveway. At the front steps you both stopped, not really knowing what to say. He looked down at his shoes and shoved his hands into his jean pockets, “Hey Y/N, I just want to say, thanks… for what you did back there. I’d have to admit it was… pretty cool,” You didn’t know what to say, so you gave a dry laugh, “Yeah anytime…” There was another long pause, “I feel bad for leaving him just lying there unconscious, we didn’t even check if he was breathing.” He met your gaze, locking his now soft eyes onto yours, “I don’t think he died, I’ve had my fair share of fights, and I know what what, don’t worry,” he surprised you by pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, caressing your face lightly, “now you’re safe and home so you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” "Don’t say that, you say that you’re used to this sort of stuff, but you shouldn’t be,” your mouth moved before your brain could comprehend what you were doing, “You were really brave back there, and I promise I won’t gloat about being right about being followed.” A small smile crept over both of your faces. Another pause as you suddenly remembered that you had told your parents that you’d be home almost immediately from school. You snatched your phone from your backpack to see what looked like millions of missed calls and texts, causing you to grimace. You snapped back to his face when you heard him give a short cough, "By the way, I’m really sorry…” he took a deep breath, moving his hand to your hand, “for everything, the fight, me snapping at you, just… everything.” Again, you felt at a loss for words. You couldn’t just say no it’s alright because in reality it really wasn’t, you couldn’t get the image of the man’s limp body and it smacking hard against the trash ridden ground. Instead you gave him another small smile, hoping that your eyes showed what you were thinking. He inched forward, his other hand grabbing onto your arm, pulling you gently closer. All of the emotions from the night came washing over you, the fear, the nervousness, the anger, the confusion, and now, the sudden urge to seal it all. The sudden feeling that this was fate. You realized that this was the guy that chose you out of all people in the crowd, that yelled at you to run away from the threat of death, the guy that had the perfect answer for every comment. You thought of all of the random times you felt someone in class watching you, only to turn around and see him laughing with his friends. Or the times that you’ve made awkward eye contact in the halls. Or the times where he’ll look like he’s walking towards you, but suddenly backtrack. All those times you just thought that it was him making fun of you, or being mean, or… Now it all made sense. His shining eyes twinkled in the moonlight and echoed your emotions, how did you not know? “How long?” He chuckled and barely spoke above a whisper, “A pretty long time, to be honest,” Your noses were not merely centimeter from each other, “Why not ask?” "You wouldn’t want a rough guy like me, bad grades, bad friends, stealing, barely scraping by…” His eyes went downcast as he trailed off, the twinkle in his eye now gone. Slightly frustrated, you grabbed his shirt collar and broke the distance, your lips locked onto his soft ones. He smelt like cologne and mint and his hair felt so messy and surprisingly soft and his lips were slightly chapped but you didn’t care. You broke the kiss abruptly, noticing the dazed look in his eyes, making him look more like a young boy than the brash and harsh guy that no one ever messed with. “You really shouldn’t make assumptions,” "Oh believe me, now I definitely, won’t,”

Character Creation Ramble: The Power Armored Elephant in the Room

I’m going on a ramble about how characters in my opinion shouldn’t be created and what went wrong recently in our Dark Heresy campaign. There’s a lot that has to go unsaid simply because otherwise I’d be here all night. TL;DR, be considerate of others as you roleplay and mind the tone of the game.

It’s obvious that long campaigns are difficult to run successfully to begin with, and trust me, it’s even more difficult when characters are often in mortal peril. Not only do you sometimes die and get forced to make a new character from scratch, but you also need to create a character that works well both mechanically and socially and fits the tone of the game. As much as we’d like to, it doesn’t always work out so well. 

We’ve been playing a Dark Heresy 2nd Edition campaign for around 30 sessions. We started off with five characters. The sixth one, our interrogator, joined the game along with the first replacement character. So far in total we’ve had four characters replaced thus far. Our warrior psycher Angus was replaced by Deynor, the charismatic naval officer, after Angus died in a shuttle crush. That’s fine, though. Deynor was much better mechanically speaking. The second one to die was Omar, our bear hybrid doctor, who frenzied and tried to take down a far superior mutant crook. He could have technically survived, but the player decided that the moment was a great dramatic way to conclude that character. The third character to leave the game was Rhaban, the smuggler slash professional whacko. He was to insanity what a sponge is to water, so he was retired before he became (more of) a danger to himself and the rest of the group. The fourth character to leave the game was Deynor who, apparently, thought that covert operations didn’t suit his ambitions as a former officer, and instead asked for a transfer to more straightforward duties. Point is, there things happen, and with a colorful cast of characters and a lot of mission variation it can be difficult to make a character that can deal with what the game has to offer… but…

The latest character brought in to replace Deynor is the first one that absolutely does not (in my opinion) fit in with the campaign. Here’s why. From the very beginning our party has tried to maintain its covers through various ordeals and be as subtle and investigative as it can. That’s my perception at least, and although our rate of success isn’t the best in that regard, being sharp and sneaky has gotten us through more than simply shooting up a place ever has. In short, we’re not a full blown kill team, and my impression is that most of us don’t want a game like that either. It may not have been stated out loud at every turn, but it’s clear to anyone who’s paid attention to the game.

The thing is, the new guy is a hulking man running around in power armor and adamantine chains, boasting a decorative brazier and wielding a power fist. He has almost zero social and investigative capabilities and is adamant about bringing his power armor along. He rolls stealth against a negative target value. He’s simply not suited for an investigative campaign, and yet, he’s there.

Now, you might be asking how such a character came to be in the campaign in the first place. Shouldn’t the GM always block concepts that don’t fit the game? Wouldn’t other players offer better suggestions? To answer the first question, under normal circumstances, yes. To answer that second question, not as often as you’d like. Both me and the GM were there to help out via Discord, and boy, things got way out of hand for a number of reasons…

First, the player playing the character just isn’t a very good for the game being played. It’s not just that he’s a combat oriented player. That in and of itself isn’t a bad thing. It’s that he has almost no consideration for the game as a whole. This has shown in both of his earlier characters, Angus and Deynor, in different ways. Angus was a mechanical mess and a joke character, an obnoxious Scottish stereotype in space that tried to be a warrior and a biomancer psyker, but failed miserably at both. I don’t know how he got a pass to begin with. Deynor was mechanically sound, both a soldier and a socialite. He was somewhat good in both areas, but the player isn’t very good at social gaming. Deynor either completely excluded himself from social affairs, blatantly sucked up to higher-ups to get attention or talked down to, belittled and/or insulted suspects and other NPCs during negotiations where we absolutely needed to tread carefully. In other words, Deynor went to waste. There are other reasons why the player bothers me, mainly that he’s been absent a lot unannounced and pays little attention to the game, but that’s a story for another time perhaps. 

 After the player asked for permission to switch to a new character, the GM decided to oversee it and even asked me got help out and give suggestions. The chat begins and problems emerge right of the bat. The initial concept for the player’s new character was a dual wielding psychic warrior or some other mess like that. I don’t know where that idea sprouted from, but it was quickly shot down, because we already had multiple decent fighters and because we had an untouchable in our team. To those not familiar with Warhammer 40K lore, untouchables are anti-psykers and continuously counter and weaken psychic powers by just being in a psyker’s proximity. The second concept was an actual interrogator (not the Inquisitorial rank, but the job) with great skills at torture and extracting information. Naturally, nobody wants to play through a detailed torture scene, so that gets shot down as well. I would have suggested a social character, but again, that would have been a complete waste. So, at this point we’re kind of running out of options. The GM is getting tired, I’m experiencing (unrelated) nausea and the two of us are honestly kind of sick and tired, and more focused on getting some sort of a mechanically sound character done than on what actually gets done.

One constant remained throughout the process. The player wanted a melee fighter first and foremost, so we agree to go with it, probably due to sheer fatigue, despite the fact that the party needed an investigative character, not a fighter. Dark Heresy actually doesn’t have that many ways to differentiate one melee fighter from another, so we begin brainstorming about how to make him different. I suggest more defensive talents that would help him protect his team mates, and the GM lists offensive talents that would be useful. The thing about combat talents in Dark Heresy is that if you focus on combat, it’s going to eat up most of your experience. By the time we’re done, there’s little to nothing to put into skills, and since experience costs are determined by aptitudes, unlike in the first edition, buying social talents would have cost a shit ton of XP. Finally, we get to equipment. I’m completely out of the loop. Somehow the player talked his way into getting heavy power armor and a power fist, both weapons that clearly mark a person as a member of the Inquisition.

So there we are. The player is satisfied, and the GM and I are dead tired and patting ourselves on the back. We did it. The character’s mechanically sound and suits the player. It’s only afterwards that we realized we hadn’t considered the tone of the game. A character like that sticks out like a sore thumb and can basically hit hard and nothing else.

I know I’ve been rambling for far too long, so I’ll try sum up why I think this happened despite everyone’s best efforts and the aforementioned reasons. First and foremost, I don’t think the player in question really understands the game. Despite its war gaming origins Dark Heresy is supposed to be an investigative game first. As I understand it, the player comes from a D&D background, and while D&D can certainly be more than just killing things and playing out power fantasies, it’s not how many people play it. Second, he doesn’t understand that roleplaying is a group effort. Everyone at the table is equally responsible for keeping the game fun. Thus, you can’t play a tabletop RPG like a video game and just mess around, unless that’s precisely the thing people asked for (it wasn’t). Third, we surrendered way too easy. There is such a thing as being too nice.

Now what do I think we should have done? I’m not sure. I’d like to see him leave the campaign to be perfectly honest, but he’s not exactly being a dick either, just inconsiderate and unthoughtful, so straight up kicking him out is a hassle. We also could have talked with him about where the game is headed, maybe even have the whole group chime in. You can’t really expect a player to create a suitable character if they don’t know what’s going on. That’s a story in its own right for another time. Lastly, we should have asked more about why he wants to make certain kinds of characters, I suppose.

Of course, this is simply what I’ve seen based this campaign. The player isn’t the worst I’ve seen, nor are his characters the most disruptive I’ve witnessed. I’ll get to those in the next serious post, probably. I don’t know how the person games in other groups and other systems, so while I’m not exactly fond of his style, I do believe there’s a place for the that type of power-focused gaming. I just don’t think that place can be found in this campaign or this group. 

My point is that when creating a new character or even as you’re just settling in with a new gaming group and a campaign, mind the tone of the campaign, mind your fellow players, mind the GM, and please, please pay attention to the game.