I’ve been puttering with this idea recently, and last night it seemed to take on some semi-workable form. It was inspired by a childhood friend’s account of running into a mascot in the restroom of a park, and a grad school friend’s stories about his experiences as Shoney Bear–stories that ended with the bone-chilling phrase “we had to burn the head.”
https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B9myl9yEWvP8ZDlaczBKT0IxMDg
A. Creepy picture. Yikes.
B. I think, in terms of token mechanics, I’d prefer something a little less judgement- based. Because, if someone wants to play, and they are just not a great with yarns and vignettes… it could get awkward when they are never rewarded any tokens.
Just my worthless opinion, I think if this is to be board-gamey and have win conditions, perhaps they could be different.
C. The scenes that would be framed as a result of the mechanics would be AMAZING, no doubt. Especially since you could lean one way toward the start, and turn the scene around to the black/red result in the last moments. OR do half the scene and then turn the card over :-O
D. Finally, lets say all the scene locales were actually in the same town/theme park/etc. You could potentially do an epilogue of the whole setting, based on the number of times red or black was landed on.
Really fun idea Shae. I’d play the stuffing out of that.
P.S. My piece would for sure be a “Mounds” fun size bar, because no child wants them. Gotta love that tension.
A. Creepy picture. Yikes.
B. I think, in terms of token mechanics, I’d prefer something a little less judgement- based. Because, if someone wants to play, and they are just not a great with yarns and vignettes… it could get awkward when they are never rewarded any tokens.
Just my worthless opinion, I think if this is to be board-gamey and have win conditions, perhaps they could be different.
C. The scenes that would be framed as a result of the mechanics would be AMAZING, no doubt. Especially since you could lean one way toward the start, and turn the scene around to the black/red result in the last moments. OR do half the scene and then turn the card over :-O
D. Finally, lets say all the scene locales were actually in the same town/theme park/etc. You could potentially do an epilogue of the whole setting, based on the number of times red or black was landed on.
Really fun idea Shae. I’d play the stuffing out of that.
P.S. My piece would for sure be a “Mounds” fun size bar, because no child wants them. Gotta love that tension.
I like this as well. Seems like a Cards Against Humanity type of reward system where it’s really just up to who you were in line with as far as your story goes. And the concept is super creepy, but I’m really into it. I would be a treasure chest from some pirate themed restaurant or something. Mascot Mimic anyone?
I like this as well. Seems like a Cards Against Humanity type of reward system where it’s really just up to who you were in line with as far as your story goes. And the concept is super creepy, but I’m really into it. I would be a treasure chest from some pirate themed restaurant or something. Mascot Mimic anyone?
Thank you for the awesome comments. I was worried about the tokens creating odd alliances that might interfere with the game. Also, the idea of Mounds bars and treasure chests chasing people around on lithe little legs is entrancing and terrifying.
Thank you for the awesome comments. I was worried about the tokens creating odd alliances that might interfere with the game. Also, the idea of Mounds bars and treasure chests chasing people around on lithe little legs is entrancing and terrifying.
Also, I would like to say “bless you” to community groups that put unintentionally creepy photos on Flickr without any copyright restrictions.
Also, I would like to say “bless you” to community groups that put unintentionally creepy photos on Flickr without any copyright restrictions.
I’ve started making adjustments and revisions based on your comments. Thanks again, Daniel Lugo and Scott Selvidge .
I’ve started making adjustments and revisions based on your comments. Thanks again, Daniel Lugo and Scott Selvidge .
This is really interesting, Shae Davidson. The theme is very much in line with two of my games (Public Access and Chuck Eat Cheese). I’m always down for stories about the dark, hidden underbelly of childhood.
This is really interesting, Shae Davidson. The theme is very much in line with two of my games (Public Access and Chuck Eat Cheese). I’m always down for stories about the dark, hidden underbelly of childhood.
Thanks, Jason Cordova. I’ve made some revisions, and the new version should be out and about later tonight or early tomorrow.
Thanks, Jason Cordova. I’ve made some revisions, and the new version should be out and about later tonight or early tomorrow.
Google has chosen to sass me. Here is the revised text; a mildly fancier PDF hopefully will follow:
The Hollow Men: A Game of Adorable Mascots
A friendly dog dressed in the livery of the Royal Navy. An anthropomorphic turnip. A neon hamster. A gigantic monocle. Donning plush costumes, skilled entertainers wander the birthday parties, sporting events, and amusement parks of the land, bringing laughter and fun to families. Sometimes, though, the costume arrives on its own, its owner bound and gagged in some basement or drugged in the stifling trunk of car. The suit has come on its own, come to spawn the nightmares upon which it feeds. . . .
The Hollow Men gives you the chance to explore these two aspects of plush mascots. Each turn you will narrate a short vignette about a mascot’s adventures and experiences with the public, which will turn into either a heartwarming tale or a saga of gore and chaos as the story unfolds. You’ll need a couple of dice to play, as well as a small icon to represent your character. This can be a little novelty eraser, a toy, one of those little ceramic figures found in a box of tea, or anything else that captures your fancy. Choose carefully, though, for your mascot is the same as your icon.
Roll to see who goes first. The other players each toss out an idea or detail that the narrator must include in the story—things like a Methodist church, a quinceañera, a golf umbrella, an animal shelter adoption event, crying twins, or an approaching thunderstorm. Once the details have been set the player begins a tale, fleshing out details of the setting and describing what happens as the mascot joins the event.
The narrator rolls a die a minute or two into the story. If the number is even, the actor inside the plush suit brings nothing but joy to the party. The player describes how he won the hearts of families and made the event a glowing success that will be the talk of doughnut shops and checkout lines for weeks to come. If the roll is odd, however, the actor never made it to the event and the costume arrived with its own hellish purpose. The tale continues, with the player describing the carnage visited upon the now meaningless celebration.
The setup for later stories during the main game differs a little. One of the details must reference the previous tale. It could be an updated version of one of the earlier story’s starting details (e.g., a blood-splattered golf umbrella) or something that emerged during the narrative.
A standard game lasts three rounds, although you can tweak the number for a longer game. After the third round, each player has the opportunity to craft an epilogue. The other players toss out ideas and details for the character’s legacy, and the player details how the community will remember the adorable mascot. Did the owner’s grandchildren find it locked in a trunk along with newspaper clippings describing how it had brought joy to children dying of cancer? Did angry townspeople tear the costume to shreds before burning the head in the town square? Anything can happen.
Thanks to Daniel Lugo and Scott Selvidge for their advice and input.
Google has chosen to sass me. Here is the revised text; a mildly fancier PDF hopefully will follow:
The Hollow Men: A Game of Adorable Mascots
A friendly dog dressed in the livery of the Royal Navy. An anthropomorphic turnip. A neon hamster. A gigantic monocle. Donning plush costumes, skilled entertainers wander the birthday parties, sporting events, and amusement parks of the land, bringing laughter and fun to families. Sometimes, though, the costume arrives on its own, its owner bound and gagged in some basement or drugged in the stifling trunk of car. The suit has come on its own, come to spawn the nightmares upon which it feeds. . . .
The Hollow Men gives you the chance to explore these two aspects of plush mascots. Each turn you will narrate a short vignette about a mascot’s adventures and experiences with the public, which will turn into either a heartwarming tale or a saga of gore and chaos as the story unfolds. You’ll need a couple of dice to play, as well as a small icon to represent your character. This can be a little novelty eraser, a toy, one of those little ceramic figures found in a box of tea, or anything else that captures your fancy. Choose carefully, though, for your mascot is the same as your icon.
Roll to see who goes first. The other players each toss out an idea or detail that the narrator must include in the story—things like a Methodist church, a quinceañera, a golf umbrella, an animal shelter adoption event, crying twins, or an approaching thunderstorm. Once the details have been set the player begins a tale, fleshing out details of the setting and describing what happens as the mascot joins the event.
The narrator rolls a die a minute or two into the story. If the number is even, the actor inside the plush suit brings nothing but joy to the party. The player describes how he won the hearts of families and made the event a glowing success that will be the talk of doughnut shops and checkout lines for weeks to come. If the roll is odd, however, the actor never made it to the event and the costume arrived with its own hellish purpose. The tale continues, with the player describing the carnage visited upon the now meaningless celebration.
The setup for later stories during the main game differs a little. One of the details must reference the previous tale. It could be an updated version of one of the earlier story’s starting details (e.g., a blood-splattered golf umbrella) or something that emerged during the narrative.
A standard game lasts three rounds, although you can tweak the number for a longer game. After the third round, each player has the opportunity to craft an epilogue. The other players toss out ideas and details for the character’s legacy, and the player details how the community will remember the adorable mascot. Did the owner’s grandchildren find it locked in a trunk along with newspaper clippings describing how it had brought joy to children dying of cancer? Did angry townspeople tear the costume to shreds before burning the head in the town square? Anything can happen.
Thanks to Daniel Lugo and Scott Selvidge for their advice and input.