Trapped at the Con & a new Saved by the Morph scenario
Winter storms and Red scares abound
One thing you need to know about me is that I hate to cancel plans. Once I’ve committed to something, if I know people are counting on me, I’ll do as much as I reasonably can to keep those plans in place. That’s why, staring down the worst winter storm the Midwest has seen in I think at least four years, I drove my ass out to Pewaukee, WI a day early so I could keep my appointments running two events at the Midwinter Gaming Convention this past weekend.
My thought process going into this was: of all the places to be shut in during a storm, a gaming convention at a resort seems pretty alright. The weather might actually bring with it a deeper feeling of community — it’s us Upper Midwesterners versus the environment, the way our primal ancestors knew it to be. And, practically speaking, the weather would probably lead a lot of other game-runners to cancel, which meant that I’d be providing a helpful outlet for the attendees who still made it in. And man, let me tell you: not only was I right on all three counts, but I was wildly understating it.
So here’s what happened:
I made it in Thursday night without incident, a couple hours before the storm.
Friday morning, I woke up to the beginnings of a blizzard; you can see in that picture above what it looked like after just a few hours. Feeling pretty secure in the Ingleside Resort, I enjoyed a hotel breakfast buffet and working remotely before my first game that evening.
Friday night, I’m running that game — my DIE scenario “Empty House,”1 a horror-sitcom romp, the premise of which is this:
You were the stars of the hottest sitcom of the George Bush era – consistently #1 in your time slot, annual appearances on the cover of TV Guide, weekly appointments in the homes of most blue-blooded American families. You were a surefire pick for the swath of streaming revivals of the 2010s, right? But those emails never came. Did you cast yourself so broadly that you diluted any opportunity to actually make special memories with your audiences? Nah… those Hollywood clowns just don’t know what they’re talking about. At least you’re still a hit on the con circuit – well, those of you who still acknowledge the show, anyway.
One night after hours at FlashbackCon, the Middle Child invites everyone to their hotel suite to play a special game. It’ll be just like old times on the set, they say, but even better.
As I thought might happen, I ended up having a full table due to other games canceling. During the character creation step that takes up the first part of a DIE game, my players, who were amazing, decided that their show had been a sci-fi sitcom, “Lower Decks or The Orville 30 years ahead of its time” — a very cool and unexpected setting that had never come up when I’d played this scenario before, and very prophetic for what was about to happen.
In the DIE scenario, the player characters find themselves trapped in a facsimile of their old show that’s now real, and they’re replaying key episodes with new and deadly rewrites. The players had decided that in the show’s pilot, the ship’s prior captain was killed and the new, Danny Tanner-esque captain and show lead was introduced. We’re replaying that episode with the new captain’s actor’s life now being threatened; all characters are on the bridge of the ship trying to keep each other alive. It’s a tense and quiet moment, and the tension is only accentuated when, at the resort, the power goes out. Like, for real. We hear a click, and we’re down to the dim glow of emergency lights only.
Everyone at the table looks at each other nervously, some text their companions at the show, and then we all reach a nonverbal accord of “What else are we going to do?” By tentative emergency light, we all return to DIE. BUT THEN, back in reality moments later, something in the hotel’s electric system trips, and off in the distance, a fire alarm starts wailing.
Red alert.
This gives us a little more pause, and someone gets up from the table to make sure there isn’t an actual fire (there isn’t). Safety ensured, we take a minute to collect ourselves and, with the alert ringing in the background, we transition back into the tense, dangerous world of DIE once more, a little more on edge but a little more committed to saving our PCs from their fate — which the environment of the Ingleside has just given us a nicely dramatic backdrop for.
This ended up being without a doubt the most memorable GMing experience I’ve had, and one of my favorite games I’ve ever run. After the initial check-ins, the strange circumstances felt so immersive, not just for the characters in DIE but also for the people at the table. A blizzard outside, no power inside — can’t go anywhere, can’t really do anything else. The game is the thing, now.
And man, the players just sang. I’m always so nervous about running games at conventions; you never know who you’re going to get at your table. But I’ve been so lucky to host nothing but incredible folks who understand the weird pop culture mash-ups I like to do and are always down to play in them. (To be honest, I think a crucial part of this is the copy I write for my events in convention program listings, which — I think — sets not just narrative but tonal expectations for my games).
At the end of DIE, a player who joined last minute because their other game had been canceled told me that it was one of the best convention games they’d ever played in. That’s gonna stay with me.
Power remained out for about the next 20 hours or so. And while I wouldn’t have traded my experience running DIE in the dark for anything, I wouldn’t have minded too much if power popped back on so I could charge my phone overnight or have lights in the bathroom in the morning. But even in these conditions, which were nobody’s fault but the environment’s, the staff of the Ingleside resort shined — they gave guests a complimentary breakfast buffet Saturday with whatever they could prepare by emergency light, and games continued on. That morning I ran a new Saved by the Morph scenario, where I hosted three returning players from last year’s game, including one dude who started off last year’s scenario saying he wasn’t sure if he would be able to jump into the teen comedy that powers the game and ended up slinging the best puns at the table. It was awesome.
I’m including the text of that scenario as an attachment to this post in case you’d like to see how I script my SbtM episodes and/or prep a table to play them. This one is based on the SbtB ep “Check Your Mate,” in which Screech takes on a Russian chess champion, giving real Rocky IV vibes (which you might notice I cleverly ported into this scenario with a monster named Ivan Dragon). I love Saved by the Morph and feel like, when it comes to conventions, it’s one of my “things,” so I’ll definitely keep running these games around the Midwest.
After SbtM I ended up joining a couple board game sessions; during the first of those, power popped back on, so I got to have a real dinner at the resort’s restaurant before I took off Saturday night. All in all, Midwinter Gaming Convention 2024 was without a doubt the most memorable con I’ve ever been to, and I have nothing but effusive praise for the organizers, resort staff, and other attendeeds. Everyone not only kept their cool but gave us a good-ass time despite the circumstances. This is the power of the Upper Midwest, folks. Not even joking, it’s probably why D&D started here in the first place. Fuck winter, let’s game.
~~The Plugs Section~~
My friend Jim, probably the most incredible musician I know, wrote an excellent book on live performance appropriately called Don’t Suck: Live! that I did an editing pass on. It’s so funny and approachable and also full of actionable advice that even live performance vets like me can learn a ton from. I highly recommend it for yourself or as a gift. Really thrilled for Jim with this one, and proud of being able to help get it out there.
If any Chicago people need Valentine’s Day plans, the next Mortified show is on actual 2-14 and is gonna be sickkkk. Great for dates or people resentful about not having them!
Observant readers may recall that I had previously published the text of the “Empty House” scenario to this Substack. I’ve taken it down for reasons — but hopefully you’ll see it in another, more official, form one day ;)