Explore every episode of the podcast The Coffin Club

"Ohhhhh my god you're being so dense, just listen to me, okay? So Thomas and Aaron were dating this guy, Marrow, and were like bringing him into the polycule, right? So they've got him over for dinner, they're roasting lizard, you know how they do, and they're like "so which settlement do you live in?" and Marrow's like "oh I live out in Greenfield". And Louise is like "oh I heard Greenfield is kind of a shithole from the beanstalk runoff contaminating the ground after it fell" and, like. Okay. We don't have time to unpack, like, her approaching them with that, like fuck Louise sometimes for real, yeah? But then Marrow looks at her and is like "oh the beanstalk never fell, that was a psyop".

Right?

So like congrats, that's what dinner's all about now. Thomas and Aaron brought in a fucking Fall Truther. And like they're not even cute but y'know, not my type. But also like whaaaaat the fuck, guys? Like it takes a certain level of out-of-touch to sincerely hold that as a belief, right? And, like, I don't want to jump on Thomas and Aaron and, like, talk shit about them. Everyone already is. But like come on guys! The sex can't be that good!

Oh, like, how it fell? Tripartite collision in low-orbit due to, like, overlapping orbital schedules for satellites being overlooked, I think? It's really noticeable in the wounds around the points of severance and the directions the pieces landed in. It's like really cool if you're into it but it also really sucks y'know?"

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"Pilot understands the question. Question is irrelevant. There is only the data for Pilot to interpret. There is only the field of battle. The inside of Lovely. That is all that matters, yes. How Pilot came to this war does not matter.

Pilot can speak of war, yes. They don't like it when Pilot does but Pilot can. Pilot can tell you what it would have done if it was told to destroy the Beanstalk.

...it didn't. Pilot was not yet born. And it would make many angry at Pilot. Don't want that. Pilot is good. Pilot listens. Promise.

Boren. Selvich. Whitespring. Massily. Selvich should not have invaded Boren. Massily should have allied with Boren. Whitespring should have allied with Selvich. Complimentary, complimentary. Would not admit it at the time. But, similar, similar. Happened anyway, sort of. All fell. All became corpos. Wasteful, wasteful.

Beautiful machines thrown away and left to rot. Could have been two states. No outright war. Protect civilians. Rebuild, rebuild. Tension, yes, but tension is tension. Pilot understands tension. Pilot understands when to shoot and when to wait. Stupid, stupid generals. Need Priest to tell them what to do, ha ha. Like Pilot.

Pilot tells joke. Generals unworthy of Priest's grace. Of knowing Lovely. Stupid, stupid generals. Pilot could be flying in the stars instead of Windspear. Short-sighted and stupid.

One day Pilot will fly all the way up there. It will be a beautiful day."

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"...what caused the Beanstalk to fall? Shit, I don't know. That kind of thing is luxury to think about, isn't it?

Let's look at it this way: I've lived in Lombard in Snapfield all my life. We had a city here once, Callis City. When the Beanstalk fell, it rained panels from the walls of the thing. They landed on Callis City with enough force to knock over the big buildings and kill thousands. Mass evacuation. Entire thing in disarray. But out here, in Lombard? We just...I don't know.

We have our mechs. We have our guns. Our resources. Our walls. We took in survivors. We lead expeditions to the ruins of the city, of the elevator. We've watched bandits form gangs and dissolve, pirates and mercenary companies try and find purchase and get turned away or turn on themselves.

All we did was take it one day at a time. Through the famines, through the snow, the wars and the silence that followed. They didn't bother setting up an arcology anywhere near here and the Crawlers don't come through. It's our little pocket of world and...we do fine, I guess.

It could be better, sure, and we're working on it, one reclamation run at a time, with every new building raised or gardening plot that bears fruit.

Maybe I'm just naive but I don't worry too much about how we got here. I'm busy with what tomorrow brings. Sorry if that's not interesting but, like. I have chickens to feed, y'know? I have to make sure they're healthy. I need to do what I can. And right now that's feeding my chickens."

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"Hear me and hear me well, faithful: I know what it is like to be a pilot.

You see this frail and ravaged body. I won't say I am not old and used. But I survived the Boren Front, and that's a hell beyond any of your reckoning. It was these hands that controlled my Colossus, Beautiful Nemesis, for the glory of the Nation of Selvich.

It was my guns that brought the fury of Selvich to the capitol of Borenstadt. I may have been one voice in a chorus of righteous anger for what they did to the Beanstalk. But I was the loudest.

In their arrogance and greed, they forced us to destroy our planet's greatest creation to deny them the Beanstalk. And when they thought themselves safe and secure, they scurried away to their bunkers to hide and let us scrabble in the dust so they could emerge and claim the world for their own.

Bullshit. Cowardice. There was no quarter given to the Boren. We burned their lands and cut them down where they stood. And what was our reward? Scorn. Clucks of the tongues of weak-willed Republicans. Paranoid glances from the pathetic engineers of Massily. Anger that we showed the will to do what was not just necessary but correct.

And so we brought them all the war they deserved.

Suit up and start your engines. Selvich will rise again. I will show you the tools you need to bring this new world the wars of the old and make them learn."

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"My family were farmers. We used to raise, uh, staple crops overseas in the Whitespring Republic. My grandfather, before he passed, used to talk about how it was a hard life, but a good life. How they used to take care of their workers and pay fair wages for the crops they harvested.

My grandmother was a different story and much less nostalgic. And she outlived him, heh. So. She got the last word, I guess. We only survived because we held a knife to our own throats, looked the government in the eyes and dared them to blink. That's not just my family. That was all of the farmers. We had an arrangement to protect ourselves, our workers, from overreach and exploitations. They knew they had to play ball with us, so they did.

Then, uh, the Boren Confederacy blew up the Beanstalk. And the Republicans came for us in. Force.

No more fun and games. Almost a decade of winter *and* war on the horizon. They needed us under their thumb, to control the food, demand compliance from their civilians. Seize the assets, force the survivors to serve.

My parents were teens when they boarded the smuggler's boat. I don't remember what they used to call this place. But they were here when they started building A-SPR. When they started the agri-clans, my mother traded family tradition for a seat at the table. As an. Advisor, mind. The target on her head as a clan head was too much for the family to bear. But it was a good trade.

We've been doing business with them since. The Monroe Clan has been good benefactors, even if they have...everything, at this point. Delilah Monroe herself shook my hand when I graduated from accounting school and, well. She's been a good boss since. I can't really complain.

I wish it went differently. But I don't think I'd be any happier as a farmer."

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"Yeah man, everyone knows aliens did it. Everyone knows aliens blew up the Beanstalk.

Check it: we got the Meld, right? Where the fuck did that come from? Wasn't here when we had like, governments and shit. Nah man like. They saw the Beanstalk and realized we were a threat, right? The little monkeys deciding to poke at the stars with their fighting machines and shit. Maybe we'd climb up there and start colonizing the stars. I don't even know why we had that thing. I wasn't born yet. And it's not like we make shit or harvest shit. This planet fucking sucks. So like. Our reach outstripped our grasp or some shit. And the aliens saw us do that. And maybe they were like...alien gods. Punish the wicked trespassers.

Anyway yeah aliens did it and they sent the Meld for good measure to finish the job. Like who else could make it, right? If it was the corporations, they'd, like, include an off-switch or some secret shit to protect themselves. But that crap eats everything and everyone. Doesn't make any sense and they're not, like, dumb enough to make alien goo machines and just let them loose, right? They're, like, evil and shit, but not that sort of stupid evil, probably. You gotta worry about the arcologies and resources, y'know?

Nah man I'm not saying the aliens are gods. They could be as powerful as them, but like. No such things as alien gods. Just a bunch of spiteful assholes who dropped a robot bomb on us 'cuz they were scared of us. And like. Maybe we were scary? I dunno. I've seen old pictures of what this shit looked like. It wasn't great.

But fuck you, dude. Assholes."

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"What's most important to understand about the war is that there was an intentional omission and destruction of context. We know the war started. We don't exactly know why or who threw the first punch.

We do know what the opening salvo was: cutting down the Beanstalk.

Given...recent intelligence, I'm unsure the intent of the Beanstalk was to send things off-world back to somewhere else. But that's baseless, fruitless speculation. The Beanstalk would've been a boon for us one way or another, even if we weren't a client state for a distant parent nation.

I apologize for the digressions. There's only so much I can say on the matter.

The simple facts are this: we used to be a planet of nations. Four major continents, each with its own master. There was a balance, and it was tense; I don't think the arrangement was a good thing. The idea is that they would motivate each other to do better. Steel sharpening steel. And what they had to offer was...a nationalist industrial powerhouse, a confederacy of energy oligarchs, research-obsessed propertarianists and a liberal republic dabbling in empire and mass culture. The question on everyone's lips was "who will throw the first punch?"

I don't think anyone did, is the thing. The circumstances don't quite add up. People talk about how the Beanstalk fell at the ground level, yes, how it tipped over, struck the earth. Earthquakes. The shit it kicked up into the air that resulted in five years of winter. The ensuring war.

But then why did the top 20 floors explode in low-orbit? Why is the sky full of shrapnel that stole away our satellites and cut us off?

In my humble opinion, it wasn't a single punch. It was a targeted strike from multiple conspirators out to take this planet for themselves. And when the dust settled on their broken toy, they did what they did best: turn on each other and rewrite the history books as fast as they could."

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"Did she ever call her goddess again?" Sister Zlata hugged her knees close as she sat on the stool.

The rest of the novice sisters had left the lecture and gone to do chores. Zlata had remained behind to ask questions. Sister Charity didn't much mind; it was a sign of a healthy mind and good faith.

"Nope. From what the texts tell us, she survived the war and settled down to rebuild the Temple with a new congregation. She lived late into her elder years and was survived by a couple dozen brothers and sisters."

Zlata's face fell. "Oh."

"You have to understand: we have been told these truths from the Goddess herself. They happened long ago and far from here. But she remembers those who call her and tells their story so we understand."

"...yeah, but. They both killed all of those people. It sounds like they made the war *worse.*"

Sister Charity nodded.

"...and she dies in her bed in a new Temple?"

"Mmhmm."

"...I don't think I get it, Sister."

Sister Charity exhaled. "Well. What is there to get? It's a recounting of a history. I never said it was a metaphor, or a parable. It's a fact of our faith. Some sisters...they take faith in knowing that it was one of us who got the "happy ending", mm? That it's not an exec or some corpo or warlord dying peacefully." She sighed. "I worry about those ones. I'm glad it makes you uncomfortable, little sister."

She frowned, wrinkled her nose. "What am I supposed to do with any of this?"

The older sister shrugged. "Whatever you want. The past is what it is. Our goddess kept going, and so did Nia. One of those stories...these *histories* had an end, and the other didn't. Interpret these truths as you see fit." She closed her copy of the Book of the Earth and Moon with a smile. "And you're not going to get out of all of your chores by asking me questions."

The younger sister rolled her eyes as she rose. "...would you have called her?"

The older sister paused. "I will only know if I am ever in her shoes.

I hope I never am."

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The history books talk clearly about what happened next after the Scourging of Roden.

The Emperor was survived by his mother, Lady Belhaine, his bastard teen son, Volkan of Wrought, and his adopted cousin Firhardt of Tessalan. The members of the Inner Council had their own surviving heirs as well who laid claim to their seats (or, if they were bold enough, laid claim to the destroyed throne).

Thus began the Succession Wars, where Belhaine and Firhardt tried to control Volkan for his strongest claim while also putting down the uprisings fomented by the Council's heirs.

Abroad, the war to occupy Djartola ground to a standstill. Cut off from commands and logistics, the field commanders had to make their own calls. The smart ones held to the mission with aplomb or went rogue and were not punished for it. The majority of them reveled in loot and slaughter, sweeping across the roads of Djartola to feed the beast as Djartolan resistance bled them for every inch traveled.

The Succession Wars had a third player as well. There were rumors that at night, across the countryside, a woman and young girl could be found stealing into the strongholds of successors and would-be heirs alike, leaving no survivors. They would flicker in and out, ghostlike, without distinct reason beyond taking one more piece off the table.

In time, Roden began to fear the Daughter of Moonlight and her merciless hand.

And in time, Paraleux and Svatkopt saw the weakness of Roden and Djartola alike.

This was how the whole of the continent came to war and the real slaughter began. Twenty years of marching boots, barked commands, scrabbling in the mud over long-ruined farmlands, the "Continental Look" of haunted eyes and sunken cheeks, families stitched together from scraps and clutched close.

Her goddess left two years into the conflict.

Officially, her husband needed her elsewhere.

Unofficially, she had run out of ideas for how to stop the war without killing even more.

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It was a cold, slate grey day the morning they killed the Emperor and his Inner Council.

There had been a light rain the night before. The two of them awoke to a layer of slick dew on all of their possessions. Nia busied herself with mopping it up as Argenta set up the mortar, loaded the munition. She whistled as she did her preparations. The noise made Nia's hair stand on end.

The wind was measured. The sight lines were ranged. The mortar was loaded and ready to fire. Her goddess smiled. "It'll be over soon. I promise. Do you want to fire, or should I?"

Nia didn't say anything.

She looked at the cold sky, the clouds washed out like filthy snow. She felt the wind find no purchase on her numb fingertips. She thought about the kick of the shotgun against her chest, all of the dead between the Temple and this point. She licked her lips and tasted the past few dinners from memory.

Her voice was quiet. "I'll do it."

Her goddess' voice was surprised. "You will? You don't have to. You called me, I answered. I can take responsibility."

Nia shook her head, extended her right hand. "It's okay. I think I have to."

Her goddess didn't protest. She handed over the little box with the round button, placed it in Nia's hands.

The initiate stared up at the sky as she pressed the button.

There was a dull thud from the hillside. A whoosh. The sound of something screaming through the air. A smothering silence, then the roar of winds rushing forward to fill an absence, a ringing in her own ears.

When she looked at the Council's stronghold, there was nothing left. Nothing at all. Most of the imperial city remained, but there was a crumbling hole where the throne of the Emperor once stood.

A crumbling hole and distant wails.

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The backup weapon looked like if you carved a sitting three-legged dog out out of a hunk of metal. Nia had known about cannons, distant weapons some theorized that they could one day be brought to bear in war. Argenta had said the "mortar" was like a cannon, down to the munitions inside, but Nia didn't know what a munition was or what a cannon looked like.

It was a silly, small apparatus to see parked on a hill with their cart and horses. The munition was a packed metal ball the size of a fist. Argenta wasn't being careful with it; Nia kept her distance regardless. They sat, almost like a picnic, as they waited for the skies over Roden to clean, eating stewed vegetables and chunks of bread.

Her goddess was developing opinions on her cooking and enjoying it. She didn't enjoy it enough to not talk with her mouth full.

"It's funny. At the end of the day, it's basic math, cheap geometry. Being able to calculate arcs, parabolas." She smiled around a spoonful of roots and chewed. "The mortar, the explosive, it's all fancy. It's no more sophisticated than your bows. One day, you're going to have the tools to do what I do. But you'll always have known what I know, y'know?"

She didn't. She nodded as if she did.

"They gave us idiot-proof stuff. All point and click, no need to understand how it worked. My mother and father wanted me to, years ago, before I went to the stars. I didn't get it." She tore a chunk of bread with her teeth, muttered around it. "And then I saw how they took it for granted, pretended they had magic and miracles. There's no such thing as a miracle, Nia. There is only opportunity and coincidence. People will call what we do here a miracle, an act of god. That's only half-right. Me and my boss...we made this mortar, we made this payload. And I am your goddess. That doesn't make it a miracle."

The sky didn't clear up. The goddess shrugged. "Tomorrow, then." They made camp and waited together.

It would be three more days before the skies cleared.

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The star was a small box with a handle to hold or anchor for a latch. Falling from the stars scorched its casing; they had to wait until it cooled before they could dig it out of the hillside. Nia would glance at in the back of the cart and flinch away.

It reminded her of a child's casket.

The strider plodded along through the forest, her goddess at the reins. Within the dawning of the next day, they were out of the woods and onto the Grand Roads of Djartola.

It was slow going. The Roden soldiers traveled the paths, and Argenta had to respond accordingly. They shied away from large detachments and stuck to the lesser-known roads; Nia's experience studying maps was finally paying off. But it was inevitable. The pilgrims needed places to rest and sleep, as did the soldiers. Argenta looked for homesteads, farms, towns where the least soldiers were occupying and steered the strider towards those lands. She would leave Nia at the cart with the gun.

The Bullet of Justice had her own guns, one for each hand. Heavy things wrought of metal and stone, small enough to use two at once and not knock yourself over. Nia could hear them roar and echo through battlefields like the rumblings of brass lions. When Argenta was finished and Nia would bring the cart closer, the places her goddess blessed looked as if a storm had fallen upon them and torn the world to shreds.

She was precise enough to leave intact shelter and resources. They left what remained of the bodies where they lay.

This was the path by which judgment crawled to Roden and arrived two and a half months later.

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They ambled through the forest on a stolen cart. The city burned in the distance behind them as they rode in silence, lit by the light of the moon. The strider was nervous, but Argenta would click her tongue in such a way that it would listen and continue without fuss.

The first time she did that, Nia stared at her in surprise.

Her goddess smiled. "I grew up on a farm."

Questions on questions on questions bubbled up. What farms are there on a moon? What gods were that beyond her goddess? Why was she so capable with a gun?

Argenta had her own questions. What was the relationship between Roden and Djartola. Why was the Roden army attacking Djartola. What was going on across the continent. In fact, what other countries were there, what was even going on?

Nia answered as best as she could. Roden was forming an empire, Djartola controlled the trade lanes, a contract had been broken between them. Better to annex a neighboring country. The continent was afraid of Roden. There had been many smaller nations once. Now it was Roden, Djartola, Paraleaux, Svatkopt. Soon, one nation less.

They rode on, beneath a shooting star. Argenta nodded up at it. "Extra supplies. We're going to need them if we're going to kill the Emperor of Roden and his Inner Council."

Nia's blood turned to ice. "What?"

"From what you told me, if we kill the Council, it'll spark a war of succession strong enough to tear the empire apart. Fastest way to protect your nation with the least collateral damage."

Nia thought about the soldiers in the streets. The hands on the citizens as they fled in fear, of hiding and staying quiet as the troops burned the city.

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

Argenta sat up at the reins, cleared her throat. "I have done this before. I will do it again. You have called down the power of the Moon to protect your chosen people. It will be done." A smile, a wink, a hand on a shoulder. "It'll be okay, kid."

Nia didn't respond. All she did was nod and stare at the stars.

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Nia did not hear her goddess' arrival.

She hadn't heard much in the past few hours. The gun was loud. It hit her in the chest with every shot. She'd braced herself against a dresser in the sisters' quarters to steady her shaking hands, protect her begging shoulder, bruised ribs. The soldiers had followed her, but she knew the building.

Once the dead started piling up at the door, they stopped chasing her. Or she hoped they had.

It was hard to think, move, lean.

Her goddess moved in through the doorway. She fired without thinking. There was a corona of sparks, a tired look, and the gun was taken from her.

Her goddess was saying something. Nia's mouth was dry, voice a whisper. She reached into a pocket and withdrew a tube. With one swift motion, she pressed it to Nia's neck.

A click. A hiss. Sweet relief.

Nia was awake. Her body felt fine, her hearing dialing into focus. She could see straight.

All she could see was her goddess.

Pale skin. Red hair in a long braid. A full, heavy body clad in a full-body singlet, pouches and tools slung across her body. Her goddess inspected the gun as Nia caught her breath.

"Can you hear me?"

Nia nodded, rubbed her fingers as circulation rushed back with a roar of blood.

"Alright. You did well. Who needs to die."

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"Pick it up."

Mother Argenta told her how to bypass the Head Sister's locked door; her voice followed throughout the building. She pointed her at the bookshelf, told her how to move it to the side. There was a safe on the other side, something she'd only seen in banks, but smaller.

Mother Argenta told her how to open the safe as well.

Inside was a long branch of black, polished metal with wood on one end. It was cold to the touch, heavy, a few hands long. Near the wood were buttons, latches, a catch made out of metal on the bottom.

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"What is it?" Nia whispered.

"A gun." said her goddess. "A shotgun. Good at most ranges."

"What does it do?"

"It kills." Her goddess' voice was dry, dismissive.

Nia's hands shook. From the weight, from her words, from the circumstances. Too many good reasons. "Oh."

"The metal end. With the hole. Never point it at anything you do not want to kill. Especially loved ones. Especially yourself. The gun will defend you by killing. It won't do anything else. And it's always dangerous. Do you understand?"

"No." she whimpered.

"Nia, you asked for my help. This is my-"

"Argenta."

A new voice. A man's. Smooth, low, controlled. Warm, like a fire about to swell.

"Hey-"

"Seriously?" Disapproval.

"Yes. She asked for my aid. This is the best I can do on such short notice."

"Don't lie to the girl because you're lazy." Commanding. Humoring, but the tone beneath.

"Who are you...?" whispered Nia.

A pause.

"I speak to the monks, little sister. I am the Sword of Justice to her Bullet of Retribution. Isn't that who you are supposed to be, Argenta?"

Another pause.

"What do you propose, then."

"Divine intervention."

"I can't be there until tomorrow."

"But you can be there."

Nia held the gun close. "Please?"

Her goddess groaned. "Okay. Sure. Stay safe until then, alright? Oh, the switch on the side is the safety. It won't shoot if it's on. And remember, don't aim it at anything precious, okay?"

The air shifted. The voices left. All that remained was Nia and the gun.

The city burned. Nia fled through back alleys, across cobblestones, ducked behind carts and into doorways. Her sandals muffled her footsteps, but she didn't need to worry. The cries and revelry of the soldiers were greater than the sound of a single girl creeping through the smoke-choked twilight.

The armies of Roden had breached the gate earlier in the day. The Head Monk of the Priory of Earth had abandoned his post in a misguided effort to parlay with the invaders. An inopportune exit through a doorway turned into a hostage, into an entry, into the sacking of the city of Dalira. They had been sieged for weeks and it was over due to one careless mistake.

Nia slipped into the Temple of the Moon and approached the altar. It was a simple stone building, with a small amount of rooms. The main room was the prayer hall, a place of sitting, reflecting, studying the glass windows that told the story of their moons paths.

She kicked off her sandals, smoothed her plain robes and pulled her hood over her head as she took the Head Sister's position behind the altar and exhaled. Head Sister had been thorough in her instruction: strike the bell three times, reach in to the drawer beneath, find the clasp, pull, then speak the prayer aloud. Nia was faithful and attentive, did as she was told, and bowed her head.

"Mother Argenta. Word-Bearer. Bullet of Retribution. Bringer of Faith. Last Woman of the Moon. Please hear my call."

Silence, save for the riots in the streets. And then, distantly, a whisper in her ear, coming from somewhere in the altar. She leaned in, saw where the moons had been carved on its surface, and felt the vibrations as she heard the words.

"Oh what the fuck. You're a kid? What's going on down there."

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Jess, Bea, Sophie and Lavender sit down and play Drink My Sweat to flesh out life on the Bluebottle more. What do workers of the crawler do to blow off steam and get closer to one another? Well, old habits and traditions of the prison die hard and serve a different purpose on the outside.

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The crew sits down and talks about important NPCs, PCs, the Crawler and the campaign.

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Welcome to the lead-up of our Salvage Union campaign. Bea, Grint, Jess, Lavender and Sophie sit down to play Follow to work through the origins of the party's crawler. For the prisoners of a corporate work facility, any future is better than one more day under the boot. First, you have to stand up and fight for it.

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Jess, Bea, Lavender and Sophie play "The Audition" by Bully Pulpit Games. Two actors show down for the same role, but one is a doppleganger of the other and the real actor wants to get selected. For more info, check out the game here: https://bullypulpitgames.itch.io/the-audition

Jess, Grint and Bea played Double or Nothing by Erika Chappell! You can find her game here: https://opensketch.itch.io/double-or-nothing

Welcome to the end of the campaign. Let's see who lives and who dies.

"Nancy listen ca-

It's mom, I-

Fucking BLACKOUTS HONEY PULL O-

okay. it's okay. we got enough ubiq signal. ha. hey honey. it's mom. dad's driving. he's focused right now, so he can't-

Hey Nance, love you, mom's gotta talk right now.

-honey focus on the-

I will, I will, you talk to them-

-okay, Nancy, don't go home. do not go home. it's too. I don't know. there's so much happening. there was that announcement, and those jets, and it's not safe in Seattle, it's not safe in the city. Morgan said-

-Morgan's okay, Nancy, Morgan and Taylor and Becks, they're all okay-

-yeah, honey, they're okay. But you can't go home. I know I said, in an emergency, go home, but. There's shooting, there's fires, and-

-hand me the phone?

okay, okay.

Hey. Nancy. Talk to Morgan and the others. We're moving to safety. We'll find you when we can. Promise. Stay safe for me.

-and me.

And your mom. If you die, I'll never hear the end of it, haha.

Love you."

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"Becks. It's dad. You remember those hunting lessons with Aunt Maxine? Cool. Good.

No, I'm not in trouble. It's. You've seen the news, right?

Kiddo we're on a phone call right now, you at least have cell reception, c'mon, don't bullshit me. And, I know, I know, I always say don't trust the news. But. There's something in California. Something is happening. It looks bad, and I don't think…it may be another pandemic or something. But they're mobilizing forces over it. And it doesn't look good.

I'm not saying, y'know, get a gun. I am not saying that over a phone. What I am saying is: I love you so much. And I'm happy you and your siblings are tough as fucking nails. We weren't good parents. I'm glad we had such good kids.

You don't have to come back down to Seattle. No. Whatever is happening…you might be far enough away from it. Keep yourself safe first and foremost. The rest of us…we'll do what we can. I promise.

Love you, Rebecca. Call me when you can."

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"Hey, it's mom. I've got an update on things for you: it's going to be a pretty quiet dinner this weekend. Becks can't make it, she's got that new contract and the overtime is demanding. I told her not to go with that company but, well, she could use the money and work. I can't blame her.

Taylor's busy with friends. She didn't say more than that. I don't know who they are or what with, but I know she won't be around. And I'm having trouble getting in contact with Nancy. I don't know if she didn't pay her phone bill or if she's on shift at her current job, or jobs.

You're probably busy at work too. I hate to do this to you, Morgan, put the burden on you. Can you make sure Nancy's still going to come over too? Your dad's got business going on and I mean actual business, ha. And I have to get to *my* shift.

Text me if you can. Thanks, honey. I love you. Oh, and be careful, please? I know dad says don't trust the news, but.

Something feels bad. Something bigger than that. I can't explain it. Just be careful for the two of us."

https://thecoffin.club

"...I don't get it. I don't. I. Shit. I'm having a hell of a time with this, Taylor. I am.

I want you to have your life. I want you to live it. But this is the sort of money that doesn't come back when you spend it.

You're smart, you know that? You and your siblings are all smart. And I thought...maybe her. Maybe the one who's most like me, but is smart like her mother.

I don't know. I don't know where you're staying, I don't know who you're staying with, I don't know what you're doing or how you're going to support yourself. Becks and the twins are busy. Your mother's working on something new. And I'm keeping my head above water. But I worry about you, Taylor. Y'know?

I thought you might be able to turn the money into...something. Something better with an education like that.

[sighs]

That's not fair. I'm frustrated, honey. We try real hard. It's not like you don't know that. I guess I kinda wish I just gave you the money up front and we called it a day, right? [laughs, stops] No that's...I don't know.

I guess...good luck, honey. Do the best you can. And if you need a place to stay, the couch is open. But we can't really give you any more money. And the news has started talking about how unsafe it is, with those attacks.

Promise you'll be careful. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

https://thecoffin.club

"Alright. The twins are resting, Taylor's managing to keep fluids down. Your dad's on the phone with the agent. Are *you* okay, Becky?

I'm sorry. I am. It took a lot of planning, and I was excited for it too. I've only been in California a few times myself, but. We're not getting to Anaheim, not with three of us throwing up like that. Especially not by train.

But, hey, it'll be alright. Klamath Falls is still a city. Has to be stuff worth doing and seeing here, right? How's it sound, you and me, fresh air, walk around, see the city and...I dunno, buy some gifts and stuff for the others? We'll probably stay the night before we get back on the train. Worst case scenario, we stay another night. [laughs] Make them regret hosting the Banks family.

...yeah, I know. This sucks, Becks. It's not any of our faults. One day when you're older, when we both have more money, we'll give it another try. I promise. Ride the rides and see the sights as a family. For now, we're going to have to make do with what two girls can get up to. And, well, we set some money aside for purchases at the park. I'll be damned if anything in this place is as expensive as California. Let's go find our own fun."

https://thecoffin.club

"Okay, I gotta make this all abundantly clear: none of you kids are ever joining the fucking military. That sounds, like, weird strict dad shit, I guess, but. I gotta put my foot down. Don't tell your mother I used those words.

Morgan, Nancy, you two are old enough to enlist if you really wanted to or go into ROTC or something. Don't. Becks and Taylor, you let me know if they do any of those assemblies at your school, okay?

Because it's disgusting. Like. There's a lot going wrong in America these days. The solution to any of it isn't to pick up a gun and go overseas. You've got those games and movies and shows making you think it's the best thing ever. They do those assemblies where they show you the drones, talk about the benefits. Got some asshole in Marines dress pretending it's a big adventure with the speech he's giving. Don't tell your mother I said "asshole". It's a lie, it's a scam, it's a trap.

Look you kids are old enough and smart enough. We're not the richest people in the world. We're *lucky* to have the position we're in; many have it better than us, but more have it worse. I know, I know, dad's having one of those opinions on society and justice and crime again. But let me be clear: I love the four of you. I will support damn near anything you do. I won't ever cut you out of my life for joining the military. But I don't want you all hurting yourselves for no good god damn reason.

The world's big, and we may be small, but we fucking matter and can do what we need to get by without killing strangers over it."

https://thecoffin.club

"...hello? Morgan it's. What time is it, good god...slow down, slow down, honey.

Where are you?

...okay. I should not have been yo-no, no honey, it's okay, you're...your dad's not here right now. He's here, but he took some medicine before bed, so he's not gonna wake up any time soon. Fuck. Okay. Here's how this is going to work, okay? I'm not him but I know how these sorts of calls go.

You don't have a record, you don't have priors, you are minor, you were a passenger, it's not your car, not your glovebox. Hold all of-Morgan, breathe for me, okay? Don't pass out in the station, you don't want that happening.

You are gonna be okay. I'm going to call for a lawyer. The only thing you need to do is shut your mouth and sit tight. Don't sign anything, invoke your rights as best as you can. I know the laws have been weird lately, but you're still a minor. And, this is important: do not sell Brian out, okay? They're going to want you to do that so they can do less work, honey. Make them work for it. Don't talk back but don't give them anything to work with.

...yeah, honey, you're probably gonna have to stay the night. You'll be okay. I promise.

Love you too. I gotta make some calls and tell Nancy.

Of course I'm telling them. You're the one who ran off without listening to them about Brian Carter. Plus, I'll need them to watch the others.

Stay safe for me. I'll see you soon."

https://thecoffin.club

"Yeah your mom is, uh. Bisexual. Pansexual? She doesn't only like guys like me. I don't know why you're asking me this, Nancy.

Oh, the band. Yeah. I thought she was dating Lana when we first met, and I guess Lana thought that too. Got weird when I started hanging out. I think your mom made some mistakes at that time. We were pretty young, it was messy, I was doing my own shit and didn't...pay great attention to the two of them, and then the band fell apart...

I'm not, jealous. I get it. That's a part of what she wants, and I can't really give her. Being her husband doesn't make her any less...bisexual, I guess. I'm her husband and I'm also not, dumb.

Don't give me that look, that's not permission to call me dumb.

I dunno! I don't have a problem with it I liked Lana. If they're good friends, they're good friends, if your mom wants to...weeeeee don't need to keep having this conversation. What was the question?

Oh, no, you're thinking of nonbinary. That's kind of like when you're not a boy or a girl, it's a whole spectrum. Why?"

https://thecoffin.club

"Oh god where did you kids find that record. You're all a little too young for that, heh. C'mon, let's go put it back in the attic, alright?

Are you sure you want to?

...don't tell your dad, okay? I mean he likes it, but. The swearing and content.

"The Screwdrivers" was a fun time. I think we could've made it. But we didn't have the money, or the commitment...it was a whole thing, we were already doing this the old fashioned way. We had a social media presence, but that's a job. And we did advertising, but that's a job. Only so many of us, not enough money. We had this run of LPs and that was really...it.

Yeah, no, I was good friends with those girls. Really good friends. Sometimes I check in on Lana; she's a session musician, she does good instrumental work still. The others, we don't talk or catch up. But Lana's still doing well.

When your dad was away, we would talk a bunch. Sometimes she'd sing for the twins. Help them to sleep.

You all probably don't remember that, huh? You might remember this song, though. That's me and her on this duet.

Oh it's called, uh. Girlkisser.

We can talk about it when you're older."

https://thecoffin.club

"I, uh. I dunno what to say about this, Becks.

I did say you could use my card to order stuff online. I didn't expect you to sign up for a magazine, and...I'm not going to say money is tight. I am going to say I didn't expect it to be a recurring subscription, y'know? Anyway. I looked into it, because what the hell is "Grills & Grills Quarterly".

So. Uh. You're kind of serious about that roadkill cuisine thing, huh.

Yeah. I know. Food waste is...it sure is a real, rising problem, I could see it helping people. But like. Jesus kiddo I want to be supportive, I do, I promise I do.

It's really damn weird.

[exhales] Your mom is a lot more repulsed than I am. But I gotta have some limits for what I let you kids do. So I have a proposal, and I think it'd be helpful for understanding this. Interest. And give us the opportunity to bond.

You remember Aunt Maxine? I still talk to her sometimes. Hunting season is coming up. We can go upstate, she can teach you how to shoot a little, the three of us go hunting, and we bring what we bag to a butcher. Let you see how, uh. The sausage is made, I guess.

We'll go from there. It's. It's a weird hobby, Becks. Dip your toes and who knows what you'll learn from it. Maybe don't marry yourself to it if it doesn't. Work out, y'know?"

https://thecoffin.club

"Sticking with Taylor. Okay. I get it. It's a good name. We got it on the first try, right?

Hey. You did a big thing, telling all of us at once like that. Takes a lot of guts. I'm proud of you, Taylor.

I'm not making excuses for your father. I'm happy he got up and didn't say anything. He's getting smarter in his old age and learning to keep his mouth shut. I am going to remind you that he loves you to pieces, Taylor. You being his daughter won't change that. I promise. He just doesn't understand it. He *will*. I promise he will. Your father is an idiot but he's not *hateful*. If he didn't love you, you wouldn't be his favorite kid.

Don't tell the others we have favorites.

Well it's not *you*, honey, you're *his* favorite, we can't double up and create a love monopoly. [laughs]

Come here, come here. You're not so big as to not give me a hug. I love you, kiddo. Always have, always will. I'm proud of you. Plus. I'm cool. I used to share a two-bedroom with bunch of girls. I'd help them with their shots or let them crash on my bed. We have to stick together or else we're all not going to make it.

Promise."

https://thecoffin.club

Happy holidays! Jess, Lavender, Sophie and Bastion played Hypermall: Unlimited Violence by Rat Bastard Games. Massive, massive content warnings for violence and sexuality applicable to the game itself and Jess letting her id run free.

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What are they dressed as? I mean it's. Obvious, isn't it? Y'know, he's the leader, she's the lieutenant, there's the big strong one...

Look, ma'am, my kids worked hard on these costumes, and for you to start throwing words like those around-

I do, yes, we're in district, they go to the school at Twelfth, those two are in sixth grade-

Oh I'm sorry I thought we lived in America? Since when is there a cut-off for Halloween?

They're eleven! I don't give a sh-damn if fifteen-year-olds can go get a job working at Shake-It-Fast, they're still kids! Your lights are on, th-

Y'know what? Fine. Fine! I hope you like getting a bad review on BlockParty! Last time we go trick-or-treating in this neighborhood! C'mon, we're leaving-

I said we're leaving, you don't have to yell-

Morgan, try to look a little more upset? There we go. Perfect. Where the hell are Becks and Taylor. Don't answer that. The less we know the better. Sh-damn. Sorry. I know they had those big bars. I didn't expect her to be such a shi-stick in the mud, heh.

Where did you get those.

...I'm not saying don't put those in her mailbox but if you do, do not tell me. I'm gonna move to the next block. See you two there.

https://thecoffin.club

Take another tissue. Take as many as you need. Misa's going to be okay. Shit like this happens all the time, Nancy, it's part of field hockey.

It was an accident. Everyone saw what happened. They're going to reset her nose, run some tests, she'll be fine. I promise it'll be fine.

Because it happened in such a safe place, is why. I mean. Yeah. You all tend to get the blood up on the field, but. It's just sports, honey. I mean, god knows I got in all sorts of fights in less safe places and came out of it okay myself.

I did too. Ask your father about that night we saw Broken Socket at the grindcore show. I have a reliable eye witness to some shit I don't remember. Heh.

Do I miss it? No. Not at all.

Maybe a little. Ha! Got you smiling. Look, it's...shit like this just happens sometimes, okay? Someone gets knocked down, they need to get picked back up. They need teammates or doctors or moms or whoever. I mean, how many times did you cut your knees learning to ride? You just get back up and keep going.

Do I feel bad about it? I mean. Do you feel bad about hitting Misa?

Alright. And that's okay. It's all a matter of perspective and intent, honey. Shit happens. It's what we do next that matters. I think if you go see her in the hospital and say you're sorry, she'll believe you. Plus it's not like you won the match anyway, her team did win.

Fine, no more jokes. I can be the serious mom.

So. What's the biggest sundae I can go get you that'll get me off the hook for those swear jar donations?

https://thecoffin.club

Jesus Becky, I dunno why I gotta be the one doing this. I told your mother and she wanted to give you a high five. I think that'd undermine the point of this talk we're having.

God how the hell do I even approach this. Fuck. Don't. Don't tell your mother I said that. Ha. Sorry. Look. I understand, Dennis Hanson's a little shit. Don't tell your mother I said that. And I understand he was giving you shit. Again, don't...fuck it. This is serious, Becks. You put him in the hospital.

You really are your mother's daughter sometimes.

You broke your violin and you put that boy in the hospital. I know you're not, sorry. And I get why you're not sorry, I do. It's gonna be hell to replace that and find you a new tutor. If. If we let you keep, playing it. God, kid. Fuck. Fuck!

We'll figure it out. We'll figure it out! I don't have an answer for you, honey, I don't have an...answer to this.

You're probably going to have to apologize to that kid though. I know you won't want to. That's just. Part of how it's all done. Part of the ritual. Polite society. It sucks. I know, and I get it. A lot just, happened today. And it doesn't get to go away. We have to figure out what happens next.

No you, don't have to go to your room. We've said what we have to about it, what is sending you to your room going to do?

It'll be okay. We'll figure it out.

https://thecoffin.club

You two are old enough for this talk. I love your father but he's not qualified to give it.

Things aren't fair. It's not that we're lucky; we are. God, are we lucky. I've got four kids I wouldn't trade for the world. I've got a husband I love, a house I call my own, a job that doesn't break my back, some savings. We're trying to play our cards right to ensure the two of you get to go somewhere like my Aunt Elsie did. We have all of this and it's still not...safe. It's not stable.

God this is a hell of a thing to tell you two. I'm sorry. But I don't want you to be blind-sided if it all changes. Because it could. The world moves in big ways we can't ever anticipate. You saw what happened with...with Mama. None of us saw it coming. We keep going, and we remember her and what we had.

Sorry. Please give me a second, heh.

I'm going to miss her so much. As much as you two will. God. Sorry. I'm okay. Things, uh. Things aren't fair. Your father and I want you to understand the two most important rules. We came up with them when I got pregnant, and we had to go from a couple to parents. They're simple and I hope they help you too.

First, the world's not fair. That's not an excuse to not try to be kind and make it better.

Second, if you have to be unkind or break the rules, you don't do it in the house. Don't bring it home. I can never be mad at that man because he follows that rule, and I do too. Okay?

I love you both so much. Whatever you do, I'll be proud of you.

https://thecoffin.club

First of all there's a reason I'm the one giving this talk and not your mother. We're not mad at you, we're not even disappointed. It's. It's unfortunate this is how it all is, y'know?

Shit I kinda figured one of you might be a chip off my block. Didn't expect *you*, heh. Anyway, uh, here goes.

It's okay to steal stuff, Taylor.

Yeah you didn't really see that coming, huh? There's a part two to that sentence, but. Here. Man to man. Cheers. A small celebration for your accomplishments.

Alright. Serious dad time now. I don't have a problem with you stealing stuff. Neither does your mother, even if she says otherwise. The problem is getting caught and rocking the boat, okay? The way I see it is, we have what we have, and we get all this advertising online and offline talking about what we *could* have. What *others* have and we *don't.* And they try to make us angry about it so we work hard, y'know? "Fuck you, that's mine, I'm gonna work and save and it's gonna be my house, my car, my girlfriend!" They value property over people or try to make people *into* property. Always will. Nothing wrong with not wanting to dance along.

The problem is when you get caught and who you steal from. I've done a *lot* of stealing for you, for me, for all of us. You gotta pick the right people. Grocery stores, for example, have acceptable losses. Jewelry stores don't. Pawn shops? That depends. It's all negotiable and its all risky. A grocery store is safer but certain products aren't safe to steal.

Never thought I'd talking about one of you kids about this. Jesus. I'm not prepared for this. Ugh. My point is. Actions have consequences. The best thing I can do for you, as your father, and as a man who has lived through his consequences, is to teach you how to do it safely. The *second* best thing is to warn you about those consequences. Okay? If you ever have a question, ask me. I don't talk about it much, but I get it. And don't forget I love you.

https://thecoffin.club

Hi again from the monkey house. I hope the POLICE don't redact this one this time.

The kids are doing okay. Rebecca's big now, she's started walking around. Almost ready to start talking. The twins...well the twins are testing my patience, honey. They keep getting in fights with the other kids. It's always some stupid thing, and they don't cause it, but it doesn't help because they're children. Wish I could grab them and shake them and tell them to knock it off. But they're kids and we don't need to both go to jail, haha.

It's one of two things. Either Morgan is arguing with another kid and starts getting in over his head so Nancy runs over and starts throwing fists. Or, Nancy is getting picked on because she's quiet and Morgan comes over and starts saying shit to them until they cry or scatter. I don't know where he's learned those words. Maybe we should've cleaned up our act a bit. He's cutting when he wants to be. And she's rough when she wants to be. God bless them both for watching out for each other but I wish they wouldn't piss people off doing it, haha.

The school thinks splitting them up in class is a good idea. I'm not so sure. They also say sports might help. I'm not putting my daughter into softball, that's not gonna do anything to help her. Probably see how she likes junior field hockey, though. Should help her burn off energy. As for Morgan, I dunno. He keeps taking shit apart because you're not around to hide the tools. I'll see what programs are around for him to get his fun in. They need an outlet that's not their weird little games.

I miss you a lot. I'll send more commissary credits in a week. The POLICE put a limit on how often I can do that, some stupid new regulation. Respond when you can. Love you a bunch, monkey man.

Lou

https://thecoffin.club

We got lucky getting this house. First thing your big brother ever helped us with. I used to think I was slick but Morgan's got my charms and your mother's sense even before he was born. Got your mother's temper too but y'know don't tell him I said that, Becks.

Your mother and I were, to be blunt, using contraception. We wanted kids, but we wanted them on our own timetable. I was working in construction, she was managing stores, we were making ends meet. This company put out this new birth control drug and they were looking for early adopters. It was not a medical test. That's important. Because if it was, we wouldn't have gotten the money for the house, heh. I don't know if they forced it through the FDA or if it was flawed, but the drug didn't do what it was supposed to, and a few months later she was pregnant with the twins.

First thing I did was hustle her over to a doctor, get blood work, all that stuff. It cost us, but it was a smart gamble. See we weren't the only people having kids who shouldn't. And, cynical as it is, we wanted kids and we didn't have the money to. Under other circumstances, we'd've taken care of it. This was our shot *to* have kids *and* have someone else foot the bill about it. Took another risk, called a buddy of mine who was a lawyer, got us into a class action suit against them.

Lots of them took the immediate payout. Not us. We got a structured settlement, a check every two weeks. Squirreled that away for a rainy day. Found this place on a police auction, actually. Hole in the ground but I'd had enough experience fixing bad houses. When the twins were born we had three rooms we could live in, and I kept working at it. You're lucky, Becks. Whole house was done when you showed up.

https://thecoffin.club

Happy Halloween 2025! After we played The Isabel months ago, we knew we wanted to play Dead House at some point, so here we are! The people of Neola are in for a long, bad winter in 1888. How many of them survive is up to fate.

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He told you about Mike and Elsie, huh? I love your father but he can be a little judgmental sometimes. You think he wouldn't be considering his family.

Well no honey they're. Mmm. I'm sorry. I get a little heated sometimes, thinking about my siblings. Imagine how you'd feel if someone started saying stuff about Becky or how the twins would feel if someone started picking on you. They're my brother and sister. I have a lot of good memories. Sometimes I wish they were better.

Your Nana and Papa, I can talk to them fine, but they don't like your dad. Not since the arrest. It's a shame, you think folks like them would be able to hold grace in their hearts for their only surviving son. I tried to get it through their skulls, I promise I did. You should ask Morgan about them, he may remember more than Nancy. They were on good terms with me after your dad went inside for a while. They'd visit and help me with Becky when I was getting the others into school for the first time. Then your dad got out...and they stopped wanting to come around and see him. They'd see their grandkids, sure. Not him.

Then I got pregnant with you. And they started getting opinionated about it. At the end of the day I'm not picking my husband's parents over him. Your father is a good man. Sometimes a good man makes mistakes. What's important is where you go from there, not if you have to throw out all those years together. You talk about it, maybe you separate for a while, and you see where life goes. They do send you kids money on your birthday and Christmas, and that's nice of them. But they could do more if they want to be worth being in your lives.

Plus, c'mon. You got Mama and Mom still. Trust me, they bake cookies for you all much better than Nana ever could.

https://thecoffin.club

Well we don't really talk to your mom's side of the family because we don't particularly. Like them, y'know?

Yeah, okay, Grandma Nina and Grandma Tess are the exception, we make time for them. It's your aunt and uncle who are the problem. Your mom's still got some positive feelings but I'm the outsider so I can bring a balance to that sort of thing.

So your Uncle Mike, he joined the military. I think he wanted to be a Marine but they ended up making him a drone jockey. He got involved in the surveillance push in the Thompson administration, was involved in Operation Radiant Beacon. I'll explain that when you're older but it's not a good thing he did that. I got in a fight with him one Thanksgiving before you were born. Talking about duty to the country and, well. Never join the military, Taylor, okay? No matter what they say. There's always a better way. I had Morgan and Nancy in my arms and Mike's screaming at me and I thought to myself, "hell with this, I got two toddlers and he's gonna lay into me over this? I don't care if he's her brother." Your mom and I talked about it on the way home. She wasn't happy. But she saw how he was talking to me and the twins and. Yeah.

Your Aunt Elsie...different story. Smart lady. I liked her a lot. Then one day something...shifted in her. She was educated, your grandmas got her through college. She even went Ivy League with a bunch of grants and debts. One day she calls your mom up, smiling wide, "I met the most wonderful man!". They get to talking, your mom hangs up, looks into him and immediately calls her back. See, uh. Sometimes, people hear what they want to hear and then ignore the red flags. There was a lot she shouldn't have ignored. I'll tell you when you're older. Important thing is she lives on his compound out in Montana now and even if we did invite her to holidays...she wouldn't come.

Sorry kiddo. I wish you could meet them. Family's important and you care for them, mostly. Family's still made of people.

https://thecoffin.club

When did I first meet your father? Ah Jesus, great question. Let's see.

Johnny Banks wasn't really a fixture of the scene as much as he was a nuisance. I used to play in a band back in the day. I even dropped out of school to pursue it, had to get my GED later. Don't drop out to join a band, by the way. Odds are rigged against you. Anyway you've seen those pictures of me in those jeans. We called ourselves The Screwdrivers, we thought we were punks, we thought it was cool. Played a lot of local shows, didn't ever get a record down but we got some EPs together. We were down in the scene and so was Johnny Banks.

Your father, god bless him, used to have the dumbest hair I seen on a man. It was cute. He tried to do the liberty spikes, but never really put enough product in, and had half his head shaved. He looked like a palm tree. He hung around at shows and parties, this beanpole guy in an old army jacket and stompers and chains. Everyone thought he was there to score heroin or screw high school girls, so they gave him a wide berth. He wasn't confident in himself so he'd just stand and loom all quiet.

I didn't meet him properly at a party. I met him at work. I did graveyard at a convenience store. He shuffles in one day, jacket too big, hair all floppy, asks me for smokes. There was this nervous energy and then, suddenly in this shotgun blast of words, he says to me:

"I really like your band. I think you've got some good songs. I have questions about your lyrics. I think you tuned your bass wrong. Can I help you tune it properly?"

I told him to get lost. The next day he showed back up with a tuner. I said "where did you get this?" He smiled wide and said "don't worry about it."

And that's the first present your father ever gave me.

https://thecoffin.club

I met Louise Wallace when fucking Richard Lincoln tried to kick my teeth in.

It was a hot summer, and they'd cancelled public summer camp again for the third year in a row. I was thirteen years old. Not old enough to get a job yet, too old to hang around home and not get told off for it. Richard and Toby and Donny and me stole some shit from the Bullseye and ran off to a nearby park to see what we got and screw around.

Fireworks (the boring kind), some inflatable balls, some food. We didn't steal a pump. Ended up sitting around trying to blow the stupid things up by hand (mouth, really) as we chewed shitty candies and snapping noisemakers at each other. Normal shit. We got a soccer ball mostly inflated, kicked it around a bit. Then I slipped, fell on it and popped the stupid thing. Donny and Toby started laughing, but Richard. Richard was pissed.

"What good is taking crap if you're just gonna break it, you dumb piece of shit?" was more or less his sentiment at the time. Told him the truth: wasn't my fault, wet patch of grass, and maybe it wouldn't pop if you weren't such a weak loser who couldn't inflate a damn ball. He ended up on top of me as Donny and Toby stood around chanting "go! go! go!" whipping noisemakers at us.

I don't remember what happened next. I do remember this clearly: Louise Wallace standing over me as Richard lay howling on the ground. Younger kid, ten years old, wiry girl. Tomboy. Richard had to go to the hospital with the way she hit him. She didn't pay him much mind as she helped me off the ground. I mumbled thanks, because what else am I supposed to say to be saved by a girl. All she did was roll her eyes.

"Don't be a fucking idiot, dude. Learn to shut your mouth."

And those were the first words your mother ever said to me.

https://thecoffin.club

We do session zero, character creation and enclave creation for our Red Markets 2e's beta test! Thrill at what protagonists are designed! Chill at how distracted we get looking at a map of Seattle! Spill into a chair and listen up for the stories that will be told about the enclave of Deception Pass and the Banks Family Takers.

https://thecoffin.club

Deep within the Sunny Suplex Mall lies the realm of the Tiny Mall Wizards, a forgotten corner of history long since gone by. Originally the world's masters of magic and mayhem, they are relegated to obscurity and their own petty squabbles.

That is not to say that the time of their stories is over. Far from it. Crack'o, Hat and Celene, three chosen Tiny Mall Wizards, embark on a grand quest to save their people and bring balance to the mall. Will they succeed? Will they fail? Only one thing is certain: there will be so much property damage.

We played Grint's game Tiny Mall Wizards and you can too!

https://greenintern.itch.io/tiny-mall-wizards

https://thecoffin.club

The crew talks about the experience of putting together our interpretation of Brindlewood Bay, discusses the different systems we used, and talk about the ups and downs of running mysteries and horror.

https://thecoffin.club

We poisoned ourselves. I was complicit in it but we all had our part to play. Grief, anger, ego, curiosity, four ingredients we all brought into our group. Useful in small amounts. Dangerous when concentrated. Lethal when there's enough for you all to drown in it. I'm sorry for what I've done. Helping you doesn't make up for any of it, my death doesn't roll back the clock. It was never a punishment for me if I was going to instrumentalize it.
I don't have an answer for the four of you. They stole my papers away when I died and even if you had them, I don't know if you have the time you need to delve into them, create another way. I don't have a solution going forward for what this world needs and what it should be like. I always agreed it should never be like this, but I'm a historian, not a philosopher or ethicist or strategist.
What I do have to offer is the last word. They thought they quieted me, and I'm glad you never told them otherwise. That is, of course, assuming you get these messages or theirs. I can feel my control slipping; I hope it goes somewhere useful.
The best way to offset a poison like this isn't just to purge it; that's often too late. The best solution is dilution. Broaden your horizons. Be in the world. Think, question, reason, accept when you're wrong. Grow. You're never too old to grow or change. Take it from the dead woman, hypocritical as this advice may be coming from a scholarly shut-in. Grow, learn, love. Bolster the self and it will endure until your dying breath and beyond.
Good luck. I believe in you. I always believed from the start.
https://thecoffin.club