We last left our intrepid party of investigators - Kurt Cobain, Lisa "Left Eye" Lopes, and Eazy-E - in the early 1990s having dealt with a serial-killing cult of flame-monster Tulzscha. It is now 1992, a presidential election year, and things seem relatively quiet. But a surprise third-party presidential candidate is gaining serious traction with a platform of "nuking the Arabs." Unless the investigators can stop him and his sinister agenda, Morton Downey Jr. just might become the next president of the US of freaking A. Loosely based on the scenario "The Yithian Candidate" from The 1990's Handbook.
Steve: We ended last time in a bit of a pickle.
Zack: Cobain, Eazy-E and Left Eye had gone out to the Salton Sea to the office of a pro-nuclear activist group, only to discover a massacre, ray-gun burned bodies, and a strange machine in the basement along with enough supplies to last through doomsday.
Steve: Then the cops showed up.
Zack: The cops, FBI, and a helicopter. Also Eazy-E went temporarily insane and he is spouting mythos reggae. But I decided he is coherent enough to play a flute. Go ahead and tell everyone why he is going to play a flute.
Steve: To summon a Servitor of the Outer Gods.
Zack: E knows how to summon and bind the monster, but he doesn't know much else about the monster. It's going to take a few minutes to cast the spell, so you're going to have to hold the cops off for a while.
Steve: We can seal ourselves into the bunker basement thing while he's casting it. That way at least they'll have to batter their way in to get to us.
Zack: Left Eye seems pretty freaked out about what you are going to attempt. Cobain is so high he thinks it sounds amazing.
Steve: Yo I didn't ask your opinions!
Zack: No, Steve, if you're going to have Eazy-E talk it can't be your semi-racist shorthand. You need to write it like Snow sings it.
Steve: Irie, can play the Azathoth man flute or police-a gonna bust down the door, put us in bracelet, no man put me on the floor.
Zack: Well played. You retreat from the flashing lights of the police cars and FBI vehicles and head down into the basement. You shut the big vault door behind you. It seems pretty secure so you should have time to do the ritual before they can get inside.
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
Zack Parsons, Steve "Malak" Sumner, and friends tackle bizarre role playing game products that make them wonder, "What the fuck!?" From the early days of Gygax to contemporary role playing games, none will be spared.