"Everybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they've all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe."--Neil Gaiman (A Game of You)
At its heart, this is an RPG where players can play their favorite characters from Neil Gaiman's books and graphic novels. His books include The Sandman, American Gods, Stardust, Coraline, Neverwhere, and others.
In a much broader sense though, this is an urban fantasy game where magic is happening all around us whether we choose to see it or not. Cannon characters are accepted and Original characters are encouraged. The overall storyline will involve magic characters who want to remain hidden versus those who wish to reveal themselves to rest of the world.
http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/a_neil_gaiman_rpg/
This game boasts a considerable lack of 'red tape' in character creation. We only ask really that you understand the character you want to play. In return, the game looks for good players who are not only good writers, but who can create and steer their own storylines that others can play in. Special recognition will also be awarded to players once a month for exceptional writing in these areas.
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John Constantine lit his cigarette nervously. "Tell me that this is going to be easy."
"This is going to be easy," said a friend to him in the dark.
"Yeah, but they always say that before everything goes to shit, don't they? `This'll be easy', `Everything is going to be alright'."
"Close your eyes and think of England."
"That is not funny."
"Well trust me, this part will be the easiest. You have already acted as the ideal mediator between me and my employer these past few weeks. You can think of this as merely your closing bow."
"If I didn't owe you a favor…"
"You still would be being paid a sinful amount of money," the voice interrupted.
"Well there's that," Constantine shamefully admitted, "Guy's got to eat, right? You had just better not make me regret this."
A hatchet faced man came out of the London fog holding a brief case. He spotted Constantine immediately, "You would be Mr. Constan-TEEN then?"
"Constantine," Constantine corrected him, "like Valentine's Day." He lit up another cigarette and breathed it in hard.
"Of course, of course, Mr. Constantine then," the man said without losing that hatchet faced grin of his. "You can call me Mr. Smith. Which is truly my real name if you care to believe it. I'm not the type of man to waste my time with aliases. So, you're going to tell me how this works, then. Your friend I've been negotiating with, he is supposed to be invisible or something like that?"
"Let's just say he's not got a memorable face."
"Right. Who am I to question all this magic business anyway. There you go," Mr. Smith handed Constantine over the briefcase. "Everything your friend requested is in there. And my friend certainly hope to expect his results within the week."
"He says he'll do his best," said Constantine.
"Good to hear. I for instance have the utmost confidence that you Mr. Constantine are not just screwing us around. Hate for something to happen to anymore girlfriends, eh?"
Constantine practically choked on his cigarette.
The Marquis de Carabas took the briefcase from Constantine. A smile flashed on his face as he admired its contents.
"He was not supposed to know a damn thing about me! How the hell did he know about the girls?!"
"That," said The Marquis, "is not my concern. But have no worries, your favor is paid, and everything else will move like clockwork." He pulled out a bound stack of pound notes and tossed it over to Constantine. Then before another word could be spoken, de Carabas disappeared down a sewer lid as quick as a shadow.
Only moments of unreal time passed in London Below when The Marquis found himself in the parlor of one Lady Door. "My Lady," he greeted himself, "I am here to collect a favor."
Door was looking over stacks of maps and charts of the Underside. Many of them were written on toilet paper or scribbled on old telephone books. The Lady looked over them at de Carabas. "A big favor?" she asked with a mixture of apprehension and impatience.
"No, just a small favor. Surely I have accrued that with the information I gave you about your sister."
"Fine," Door said as she slammed phonebook closed, "Just make it quick." She pressed open a door and on the other side was lush green countryside.
The Marquis had to squint to take in the unfiltered light. The town of Wall had barely changed in the past one hundred and fifty years. It was still as a quaint town as The Marquis remembered it. Though, The Marquis mused, perhaps they reached the cutting edge of technology by adding an actual telephone in the general store.
He walked his way up to the cobblestone wall of Wall. The citizens no longer posted sentries here as there had not been a Fairy Market on May Day for some one hundred years now. Not that anyone would have noticed The Marquis even if he had sat right at the edge of their nose.
His contact was sitting on a white horse that all would agree was far too large for her. She looked impish and gangly, but had taken the time to combed her usually tattered brown hair back into neat locks.
"Nuala," said The Marquis, "so glad you could make it."
"I didn't have much of a choice," the Fairy fumed, "I owed you a favor."
"So you did," beamed The Marquis de Carabas. He handed her the briefcase.
Nuala started to ride off, but stopped and turned to The Marquis. "De Carabas," she asked, "Did you ever think about moving to the Faerielands? They would remember you here. I mean, you wouldn't have to live in the shadows anymore."
The Marquis de Carabas only smiled and said, "What? And leave the city?"
Though Nuala had been furious that this task had been forced on her, there had been a secret part of the fairy girl that had grown excited at the prospect. Her part of The Marquis' plan was essential. It was a huge responsibility and she hoped it would prove to everyone that she was a strong independent woman who did not need glamour to be important. At any rate though, it was a nice excuse for her to reenter The Dreaming.
The Dreaming is a place we all travel to in our sleep. Though few of us remember our time there. For Nuala however, who had long been a friend of The Dreaming, navigating the realm had become as easy as breathing. She closed her eyes, and without missing a gallop, she was riding into the boundary of Dreams.
"A little to the left. No stupid, your other left!" cried Mervyn Pumpkinhead.
A hulking grey figure was carrying a thirty foot statue of gelatin which was made to take in the finest details of one dreamer's mother-in-law. Mervyn, for his part, sat in a director's chair and shouted orders through a megaphone.
"The boss told me himself that I needed to make this dream perfect. Well not the boss exactly, but he told Lucien to tell me, and Lucien said not to screw this up. But that's basically the same thing."
Nuala knocked over the pumpkin-headed scarecrow out of his chair with a well targeted attack hug. "Oh Merv, it's so good to see you again." She gripped him tightly about the neck
"Good to see you too, girly," he said with a huge pumpkin grin. "So what brings you out to these neck of the woods?"
Nuala's face suddenly grew serious, "I have business here I have to do. Could you tell me where I could find…" Nuala bent down and whispered the name to Mervyn.
"What do you need to see that creep for? But hey, it's your funeral." He pointed Nuala in the right direction and she set out alone on foot. The pleasant strangeness she enjoyed about The Dreaming was behind her now. Ahead, was a seemingly endless wall of dark gray mist. As she moved through it, she noticed a stillness here that frightened her. Nothing alive dwelt here. Then, she could hear somewhere far off in the distance, the sound of train tracks.
With a shove and a grunt, the Fairy girl pushed her way through a thick barrier of mist. She found herself in what looked to be the dining car of a train. Nuala looked out the window and saw that the car was rising and crashing alone atop a turbulent sea. Rain fell in heavy sheets and lightning cracked against the black sky. Every so often the lights in the dining car would flicker and in those moment gave the impression that they might never turn on again. And leave you in the dark. Nuala was shaken but her resolve was firm. She heard a voice then coming from the far end of the car.
"My sister's a wife and a mother
She has a porn star for a twin.
At least that's what she tells her husband.
My god how the money rolls in rolls in.
My god how the money rolls in."
A man in a pale suit sat playing solitarie on the floor under one of the dining tables. Nuala watched as every so often he would palm a card discreetly into his sleeve and pull out a better one.
"Odin?" Nuala said cautiously.
The man did not look up at her. Instead he said, "I'm sorry m'lady, but I am afraid you have the wrong man. My name is Wednesday. Here. My card." He whipped out a hand and pulled a card from the air. Nuala looked at it. It was the king of diamonds.
This man, or god as she was told, had obviously seen better days. It happened sometimes to creatures of belief long after they had lost all believers. Nuala had not the slightest idea of what to do now. She knew what she had been told to do, but she was quickly losing her resolve. "Um, I am here because there is a man in the Waking World who wishes to hire your services."
The man she still hoped was Odin began humming to himself as a response. "Ta da da ta da da ta da da. Dum dum diddy dum diddy dum."
All of Nuala's fantasies about coming from this ordeal as a cool collected negotiator flew right out the window as she stood in front of this mad man. She sighed, "Maybe… maybe this would help." Nuala opened up the briefcase and inside was a clear bottle. The liquid inside was as thick as syrup but with a frost that emanated from it like liquid nitrogen. "Here drink this," she said, "It's belief and it should restore you a little."
Odin made no move to take the bottle. Nuala had to take his hand and wrap his fingers around the bottle neck . Finally Odin looked up at her and smiled. His eyes were gray and though she could tell that he had a false eye, she would have been hard pressed to tell you which one it was. "Nuala," he said and he took the bottle from her delicate hands, "It's good to finally meet you. You're a fairy, am I right?" He stood up and Nuala was surprised to find how truly tall the old man was.
This fact did not stop her at all from being angry. "You-you tricked me!"
"A subtle variation on The Spanish Prisoner. But no hard feelings. Here, have a glass." Mr. Wednesday took two glasses from the bar and poured a little liquid into each of them.
In a quick moment, Nuala saw the drink and her tongue licked over her lips. Then just as quickly she crossed her arms and turned her head away in disgust.
When Nuala continued to say nothing, Mr. Wednesday took the conversation on himself. "So what was the plan, if I may ask? Your boss was going to wet my whistle with a little Soma and then what? Maybe haunt some sucker's dreams for a bit? I'm dead. And the trickle of belief I get from skinhead Wotanisists can only just barely keep me alive in here, trapped in the Dream world.
"Well," said Nuala finally, "he's not my boss. I'm just returning a favor. However the man in question is actually offering quite a bit more than that." Nuala delicately crossed her legs and did her best to look professional. She opened the briefcase completely and inside where four more bottles of Soma. "This should be enough belief to give you back a body. A real body. With more after you services are completed."
"Now," said Mr. Wednesday, "we are talking business." He reached for the briefcase.
Nuala closed it sharply. "In return, of course, you are expected to do a little more than haunt a sucker's dreams."
"And what exactly would that be?" Mr. Wednesday asked, still grinning.
"Mr. Alice wants you to fight a war."
"That my dear," said Mr. Wednesday and his crooked grin grew wider than ever, "is my specialty."
http://games.groups.yahoo.com/group/a_neil_gaiman_rpg/
--- In RPG_Player_Sanctuary@yahoogroups.com, Rebecca Jones <ladyvanhelsing@...> wrote:
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> I would be interested in Neverwhere.
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> Rebecca
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> --- On Thu, 23/12/10, dare_the_terminatrix <furou_fushi@...> wrote:
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> From: dare_the_terminatrix <furou_fushi@...>
> Subject: [RPG_Player_Sanctuary] Neil Gaiman RPG?
> To: RPG_Player_Sanctuary@yahoogroups.com
> Date: Thursday, 23 December, 2010, 19:38
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> I was thinking about making an rpg based on the works of Neil Gaiman. This would include, but not be limited to: Sandman, American Gods, Neverwhere, Stardust, Coraline, Mirror Mask, etc. Would anyone be interested in something like that?
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> [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
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