Quote:
Originally Posted by Territan
Genre: Therein lies the rub.
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The rub is part of you wants to run swords and sorcery and the other part knows that's a terrible idea if the goal is to successfully complete the mission statement of proliferating
GURPS.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Territan
I also had the semi-devious idea to run a major alteration of the dungeon crawl fantasy game.
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Stop. Channel that creativity into creating a game in another genre. Dungeon crawl all dressed up is still dungeon crawl.
You're absolutely not going to convert D20/D&D/Pathfinder guys by running what those systems do. If you're seeking to plant the seeds of
GURPS and watch them grow, you can't run swords and sorcery. Even if they enjoy the session, they won't leave their system.
Run something contemporary or futuristic. Cyberpunk. Zombie apocalypse. Robot Apocalypse. Post apocalypse. Hard Sci-Fi. Space Opera. Weird War II. Weird West. Super spy.
Just make the game session as quick and simple as possible. Don't make this all complicated. Simple pre-gens. Fun, interesting, short scenario.
Here is some inspiration:
- Players are on a leisurely cruise across the galaxy in their skyscraper-sized spaceship. Suddenly, space zombies (or xenomorphs) are flooding the corridors. "Oh no! Set the self destruct and get to the escape capsules!"
- Players have been living in the dust bowl of the future for all their lives. "Oh no! The robots took little Jimmy? We're going to rescue him! The rest of you, get back to the Vault!"
- The cybernetic and biologically-enhanced PC's are given a mission. Should they chose to accept it, they will be infuriating the secret headquarters of Cobra Khan to steal the plans of their next terrorist attack. This message will self-destruct in five seconds.
- "There's a new preacher-man in town," Deputy Zed started lazily, the brim of his hat tilted down over his eyes to avoid the red rays of the low-setting sun. Without looking up at the sheriff—who had just arrived by train from a long trip—the deputy continued his update after spitting a lip full of tobacco juice onto the planks of the saloon's porch. "Says there comes some sorta evil this a'ways. He's a weird one, that preacher. Got a gun with silver bullets strapped to his leg, even during service. And, he's got this sharpened crucifix he carries round with him. Nuttier than a . . ."
Just then, both Zed and the sheriff slowly turn their attention down the street, slack-jawed and eyes wide with disbelief.