New Pulp Hero Startup Looking for Character Submissions

Mirror, mirror, so tall and so grand, show me the nearest gaming group in the land.
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Jack V Butler Jr
Posts: 13
Joined: Mon Feb 17, 2014 6:31 pm
Gender: male
Location: Kissimmee, Florida

New Pulp Hero Startup Looking for Character Submissions

Post by Jack V Butler Jr »

You don’t know who it was that sent the letter. All you know is that the mysterious correspondent spoke of secrets you thought hidden beyond anyone else’s eyes. The letter-writer demanded that you come to this suite, near the top of the Chrysler Building in New York City. It also demanded you be there no later than 9 pm on December 31st. 1932 was about to turn into 1933, and you were seeing in the New Year by dancing to somebody else’s tune.

One-by-one, you watched as other people arrived. Your first instinct was that one of the other people in the room was your mysterious blackmailer, but after a while… after trying not to stare at each other for an hour, when there was nothing to do but listen to the snowstorm outside… you are no longer sure. You see the same look of outrage and fear and violation of personal privacy in their eyes as you know they can see in yours. No, whoever is responsible for this mess isn’t among any of these people.

The room you’re waiting in is huge. There is a wet-bar in the corner that’s been dispensing illegal, if legitimately made, hooch all night. And it was the good stuff; it hadn’t been cooked up in someone’s bathtub. More likely brought in from Canada or on some rich kid’s yacht through Boston. Along with the hooch was a banquet buffet. Everything from prime rib to a full leg of lamb, plus all the trimmings and vegetables and some cake and pie. There was a staff of waiters and chefs to help carve and serve. You were told when you were shown in by the building’s concierge that the meal was on the house, and since nobody was choking, you figured it wasn’t poisoned. Free food and free booze. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think this was a regular New Year’s Eve party.

The chill winds of winter blew snow against the floor-to-ceiling windows that formed two of this large room’s walls, yet the room felt hot and stuffy. Almost claustrophobic. Regardless of the room’s actual temperature, you found yourself sweating. And then, just as your watch is telling you that its 11:30, the service staff cleared everything out. Within minutes, the hooch was gone, the food was gone, everything was sparkling clean, and you and the other rubes were the only people in the room. The only thing that says the banquet or the bar was even there are three bottles of Moet and Chandon 1886 champagne. Again, the real stuff. The really real stuff in this case.

And that’s when the guy in the hundred dollar suit and the fifty-cent haircut showed up.

He looked everyone over, took a deep breath, and started talking. “Good evening. Glad to see you’re all here. My name is Westinghouse. My… and now your… employer is a man whom you may call Mister Book.”

Westinghouse hands each of you a thin leather-bound book; on the cover of the volume you are handed is your Christian name, all the way down to the hated middle name that you haven’t told anyone since the fifth grade. You open the book, and it is abundantly clear that the text inside is your entire life. Every fact, every notion, every dark, unimaginable secret that you absolutely do not want to be known by anyone other than yourself.

“Each of you was asked here for a reason. That reason is irrelevant to the point that you do not want anyone else to know what your reason is. My employer has very carefully gathered certain facts about your reason, and now is, in fact, the only person on Earth who is in possession of those facts. Here is what he is proposing: over the next ten years, every so often, Mister Book will ask you to perform certain duties, the nature of which have not yet been specified. In return, he guarantees that during the decade the reason why you are in this room will not see the light of day, and at its end you will be given the sole copies of the facts regarding that reason. In addition, Mister Book will grant each of you a comfortable stipend to cover any expenses you may encounter while working on his behalf.”

There is a moment of silence. Then Westinghouse continues, his eyes utterly cold. “On the other hand, you may choose to leave the room, and the building, at any time you please with the wishes of both myself and Mister Book that you have a Happy New Year. Of course, if you do leave, my employer will be turning over the facts regarding the reason you are in this room to the appropriate — ahem — authorities. So, that is your choice.” He glances at his watch. “You have until the first second of the New Year, fifteen minutes from now, to make your choice. I will be back then to help you enjoy Mister Book’s excellent champagne.”

And with that, he’s gone…


Thrilling Tales of Wondrous Adventure is a Play-by-Post campaign set in the thrilling days of Pulp Adventure, featuring globetrotting adventure, mysterious locales, and dangerous confrontations with deadly villains! This campaign uses the Hero System rules set.

The heroes have been tasked by their mysterious “benefactor,” Mr. Book, to travel the world, solving problems that no one else knows are occurring, or that no one else can handle. Each of them has something in their past, a secret so shameful that they would do anything, even die, in order to keep it buried. Mr. Book has discovered that secret, and is using the weight of it to compel the heroes to act on his behalf.

Interested parties should feel free to contact me either here, or on our Facebook page.
Last edited by Giant Space Hamster on Tue Feb 25, 2014 1:05 am, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: Broken links fixed by Big Mac
Why yes, I am the same Jack Butler that wrote the Evil Overlord List. Why do you ask?

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