The Good, The Bad, and the Guilty Pt. 2: The Rogue's Gallery

As always, the most fun for me at our Murder Mystery dinner wasn't the mystery aspect of things as much as it was watching everyone get into character -- some, of course, more than others.

The Lovable PigPen, of course, relished the opportunity to play Elias Truist-Heath, ladies man and reputed fastest gun in the West with a flair for fist-fighting.


And Li'l Random McEvil went all out in his portrayal of Chief Breaking Wind, last of the Cowpai Tribe.

Cap'n Bubbles had fun playing the outwardly pious, perpetual widow Dee Adela Muerte, veil and all, leaning heavily on an accent until it became unwieldy for relaying information.


We had originally given the role of Wyatt Hertz, former sheriff, to Cap'n Shack-Fu, but when he couldn't make it I passed his part on to Cap'n Peanut (originally cast as bartender Bruce Endbattert) who was, shall we say, a bit under-dressed for the role.


Squiggly wore just the cutest little dress on the prairie* as "Doc" Tora L. Theesus.

Angel got to use the Western gear she used for our Celebrity Game Show night several years back as schoolmarm Belle Ringz


Trouble cut me off from the bar as saloon owner Liza Lotts


Maverick took a gamble playing Ace Uppis-Leaf


Cap'n Cluck had fun as the grieving mother of 13 recently deceased boys, Helena Handcart, and also apparently had fun avoiding cameras, as there were apparently no solo shots of her all night long, only making it into the group picture


and Blondie Blaarrrgghhh, who served as semi-narrator and impartial witness, came as Sheriff Reya Sunshine.



And, of course there were quite a few participants who have not yet been blessed with blog monkey nicknames, such as Li'l Random's recently-moved-to-Denton girlfriend as Butch Chastity, seen here doing what all right-thinking individuals should do: pointing firearms at The Lovable PigPen

Pointing guns at PigPen being an apparent theme of the evening

A theme, might I add, I greatly approve of.

Cap'n Bubbles brought several of her friends: from left to right Lil Bighorn, Kim O'Sawbey, Bubbles herself, Frida Rhome, and Suze Jablynd


Lil Bighorn really got into her character as a hater of the Cowpai tribe, flinging invectives at the girls whose characters had flings with Chief Random Wind, calling them "cowchip lovers," while Frida Rhome relished her role as wild child.

There were also some relative newcomers to the Fellowship of Foundations class, such as Nick O'Thyme

May Shirez-Tinpeese,

and P'Elvis Swaggarin (seen here with his co-worker Red E. Hornaught)


as well as a couple of members of the other Singles classes, "Wild" Billie Hiccup


and Eve L. Ayestare, here seen placing her "firm hand" in between her rowdy charge Frida and the overly-flirtation Elias.


And, last, but most certainly not least, was Mei-Mei as madame of The Pigeon Ranch, the self-proclaimed "soiled dove" Elvira Lynn-Fekshin

who confused the heck out of the lady at the costume rental place when she told her that she needed the madame costume for a function at the Baptist church. Mei-Mei had a lot of fun playing her character, taking every chance she could get to direct everyone to her house of ill repute: "Come visit the Pigeon Ranch, just around the corner."

As for myself, well, you can't tell from any of the pictures, but I was walking around in socks the whole evening, one of which had holes in the toes, and the other missing the whole heel. The fact that nobody mentioned it other than Li'l Chief Breaking Random tells me that either (a) nobody noticed Cap'n Cellophane's lack of footwear, (b) people got the fact that I was a shoeless drunk and didn't feel it worth commenting on, or (c) people assumed that I was oblivious to the ratty nature of my socks and didn't want to embarrass me, although if it was the last choice they needn't have bothered, since I think I did a pretty good job of that all on my own .

One of the best things about playing the town drunk -- other than getting to be a general loud and obnoxious disturbance during the proceedings all evening long -- was that it gave me an in-character reason to keep remembering random facts all night long, most of which were prefaced with statements such as "Well, when I was lying in the gutter earlier I saw so-and-so do such-and-such."

My pseudo-drunken ramblings often got me threatening glares and comments from Elias and Wyatt, but I was never too scared, since as one of the few who had read the whole script I knew that neither one of their characters could hit the broad side of a barn at two paces.

Elias-PigPen -- whose character was nicknames "Brawley the Kid" -- was quick to remind me that that fact still didn't affect his punching aim.


*I'm going to pay for that comment later, oh, yes indeed I am.

Go ahead, call my dress "cute" again, I dares ya!

The Good, The Bad, and The Guilty Pt. 1: How the West Was Fun

As long-time blog monkeys might recall, twice before The Singles have hosted Murder Mystery dinners, the first being a scripted Gangster tale with limited number of characters and an audience, and the other being a very loose, improvisational mystery with tons of characters and tons of mingling. Last Saturday we attempted our third not-so-regular Murder Mystery dinner, with this one being a Western whose structure fell somewhere in between the other two.

The mystery we were provided, entitled The Good, the Bad, and the Guilty, had a bit of a railroading structure, i.e. doing everything it could to keep the players on track. Originally designed for eight people, the game was divided up into four rounds of information exchange. Before the game started, each person was provided with a character description to share, as well as character information to keep concealed so that, for example, Helena Handcart was instructed to tell everyone she was the local land baron who had lost all 13 of her sons recently, while keeping secret the fact that her husband had gone crazy and she had locked him in their attic. With each round the characters were given more information to conceal and reveal, with each revealing question or statement leading directly to a piece of concealed information, so that at the end of each round all of the secrets given out in that round would be exposed. At the end of the fourth round, the players would each guess who the killer was, with not even the guilty party knowing the truth.

The rules were that while you could try to evade questions, you weren't allowed to lie about anything, and if pressed must give the info up. In hindsight, we probably should have left out the whole "you can evade" thing from the instructions since, while it probably would work fine with the 8 player version of the game, our version was a bit more, shall we say, complicated. As I mentioned earlier this week, we decided to take the general structure of the game and expand it so that every participant would have a character. The initial idea had been to split guests up into different tables, and have each table be comprised of the 8 main characters, but I hated the idea of segregating people like that and so was a vocal proponent of the "let's just have one big game" idea.

The upside to this was that at the dinner, we got to have a great group experience, with everyone there interacting with everyone else; the downside was that it took a lot longer to unfold than it would have with just eight players, as part of my attempt to make everyone feel involved was to take the revealing information and questions and split them up between all 25 participants. I tried really hard to make sure that the information to be doled out matched up with the character who was doing the doling*, and of course some characters wound up having more to do than others, but on the whole, I think the division of labor worked out fairly well. Except, of course for those few things that served as nice stumbling blocks.

The first is that while most people were giving up information left and right, others played it so close to the vest that some vital information never got revealed, and since the secretive folks were in the minority most people didn't realize they weren't giving up everything they knew and so weren't pressing them. The second was the fact that not everyone who signed up to come actually showed up. In a few cases this was okay, since we had a few people show up who hadn't signed up, and so were able to give the stray parts to them, but in the end I had four different character sheets sitting in front of me so I could make sure that all of the revealing information was given out.

The final stumbling block was a result of my reach exceeding my grasp. You see, part of my plan for the expanded version was to throw in several red herrings so that it wouldn't be immediately obvious that only the 8 main characters were viable suspects; I even gave several characters some "hidden" backstory information to conceal:

Belle Ringz: Before moving to Roadkill, you were an early member of Butch Chastity’s Amazon outlaw gang. You turned to a life of crime after your youngest child was taken from you under mysterious circumstances. You eventually realized the outlaw life would never fill that void and so created the new identity of Belle Ringz to start fresh in Roadkill.

Doc Tora L. Theesus: In addition to the everyday doctoring skills, you spend your limited spare time providing illicit drugs to Butch Chastity and her gang. Because of this, you are one of the few that know that a supposedly upstanding citizen of Roadkill is actually a former outlaw.

Frida Rhome:Your foster-father hasn’t the slightest idea that you spend your bursts of independence not riding aimlessly over the plains, but in emulating your late mother, who was secretly a member of Butch Chastity’s outlaw gang. Butch wouldn’t accept you into her crew, still feeling guilty for your mother’s death, and so you have gathered together a large group of like-minded youth and formed your own gang: The Malignant Seventeen. So far, your efforts have amounted to little in the way of real loot or notoriety, which actually disappoints your rebellious side.

Graize deFields: Nobody in Roadkill knows the true source of the deFields family fortune: organized crime. The real reason you moved out west was to escape the long arm of the law, and while it has been successful so far, you can’t help worrying that that 8th noose might be for you . . .

Lil Bighorn: Although you vocally blame the Cowpai’s for the death of your family, the truth is that your family, a clan of con artists, were actually killed by one of the parties they swindled; and while you know this, you have found that sympathy is much greater for a poor little orphan girl who suffered due to the heathen savages. You have put your knowledge of the world of illicit dealings to good use as advisor to the leader of the second-hand group of outlaws, The Malignant Seventeen. Although the nooses are supposed to be for your more high profile inspiration, you worry that the 8th noose might be for you.

Eve L. Ayestare: Your real reason for moving to Roadkill was not to tutor Frida; that’s just your cover. In reality, you are an undercover agent for The Pinkertons, trying to track down the leader of the new gang of second-hand outlaws with a second-hand name: The Malignant Seventeen. Of course, while you’re being paid well to bring them in, you wouldn’t be adverse to being paid even better by them to forget what you find out . . .

Liza Lotts: You’re no angel, that’s for sure, but neither are you as crooked and conniving as most of the residents of town. Sure, you’ve done your share of cheating and stealing and the occasional bit of blackmail and torture, but you’d never kill anyone . . . although recently some dealings with Judge Payne have made you question that conviction. Adela isn’t the only one whose land the judge owns, nor was she the only one whose property was in danger of being demolished.

May Shirez-Tinpeese: While you are above hobnobbing with the general riff-raff of Roadkill, you are not above rifling through their belongings when they check into your hotel.You’re too smart to take anything too valuable that might get a lot of notice, although occasionally if you stumble across something obvious illegal the temptation might be a little too overwhelming. After all, who’s going to report that someone has stolen their stolen goods?

However, a combination of factors, including the Great Denton Blizzard of Aught Eight and The NeverEnding Last Minute Murder Mystery Costume Quest -- not to mention Sleep Deprived Burnout -- kept me from doing a full-out red expanded mystery . . . which was probably a good thing, considering how long the evening ran as it is. Unfortunately, while I didn't do the full expanded mystery, I did throw in a few false hints into the mix which, due to my lack of time and energy to proofread and double-check the scripts, caused the mystery to come to a screeching halt a time or two.

The prime example of this was my ill-conceived idea to throw in a rival gang to the game's central band of evil-doers, The Malevolent Seven. My gang of young, fool-hardy, second-hand also-rans was named The Malignant Seventeen. In retrospect, a few words in the introduction phase about this other gang would have smoothed over the rough patches as those few characters I gave ties to the gang tried to figure out where they fit in the grand scheme of things, and what their subplot had to do with the main plot.

But despite these stumbles, I have to admit I had a blast coming up with all of the characters and the few bits of hidden back story here and there. I also had fun playing town drunk Tom Bullweed, although I'm mad at myself that I never thought to tell anyone that due to my oft inebriated state most folk's call me Tumblin' Tom Bullweed. Ah, well, that's what blogs are for, right?

Now, if we could just find a way to have a murder mystery that allows everyone to interact in a large group with segregating ourselves too much, but doesn't handcuff us to "you must say statement A at stage B in order to elicit reveal C" type structure, we'll be golden.

*I even made a spreadsheet to help me out; yes, I'm an obsessive geek, what of it?

What a Bunch of Characters

Although I got a lot of movies watched this past week, my brain is currently mush, and so you'll have to wait a few days for my semi-coherent reviews. In the meantime, I'll provide you with one of the reasons my brain is such mush: this past Saturday the Singles had another Murder Mystery dinner, this time set in the Wild West. The Murder Mystery game we were provided -- The Good, the Bad, and the Guilty -- had only 8 characters, and we were planning on having at least 20 people show up. So I, in a fit of borderline OCD behavior, volunteered to create character names and backstories for all of the people who had signed up beforehand. What made it even better is that I had to try to come up with names as pun-worthy as those of pre-existing characters:

BUTCH CHASTITY
Legendary Butch Chastity is the first lady of outlaws. Her all-woman gang are the Amazons of the American West. There's nothing coy or dainty about Butch. She can drink her fellow outlaws under the table; she can hold her own in a game of poker; she can rob a stagecoach in record time; and she can kill a man just as soon as look at him-and often does. In her secret hide-out, a place called the Hole in the Mud, Butch plans the most daring of heists, including her many famed train robberies. It has been rumored that Butch has gotten away with more gold than any outlaw alive.

P'ELVIS SWAGARIN
When a mysterious lone gunslinger rides into some dusty western town, it's usually P'elvis Swagarin. Solemn, poker-faced, bowlegged-he's a cowboy's cowboy. Born Peter Elvis Swagarin, he's P'elvis to those who know him. He's a man with no belongings but the shirt on his back, his gun and his saddle....a man who sleeps beneath the icy stars, a horse his only companion. P'elvis appeared out of the prairie heat just two days ago, and ever since he arrived, the whole town of Roadkill has been whispering in hushed tones, wondering who he is and what he wants...

HELENA HANDCART
Matriarch of the Handcart clan, Helena is the mother of the Handcart boys: all thirteen of them. Billy-Bob, Bobby-Rae, Little Ricky, Martin and Lewis, Harpo, Groucho, Sleepy, Sneezy, Manny, Moe and Jack. Oh-and, of course, the Beav. Unfortunately, she had to bury all thirteen of her sons after they were tragically killed in a shoot-out at a dairy farm. The now infamous gunfight at the Parkkay Corral left her with nothing but memories. A strong woman, she has been able to survive, although most of the time she remains secluded on the sprawling Handcart Ranch, managing the family cattle business. Helena owns half the territory and never lets anyone forget it.

CHIEF BREAKING WIND
Chief Breaking Wind is the distinguished leader of the Cowpai tribe-an honorary position these days, since the entire Cowpai tribe fell victim to a mysterious disease several years ago and perished. Still, the stoic chief keeps his traditions alive, trusting that, with his help, the Cowpai will rise again. Unwillingly relieved of his tribal responsibilities, the chief has since opened a successful barber shop in town and, ignorant historical references notwithstanding, hasn't scalped a soul. Still, no one ever angers the chief.

ELVIRA-LYNN FEKSHIN
Elvira-Lynn is the consummate soiled dove and makes no bones about it, so to speak. She's known throughout the territory, and there's even that famous saloon song written about her- My Heart Burns for You, and Other Places, Too. She's the proud madam of the Pigeon Ranch, the best little you-know-what in Roadkill. Since Judge Waylon Payne is one of her steadiest clients, the law does a good job of looking the other way. To look at her now, you'd never guess she was born in the gutter and suffered a sickly childhood, battling everything from consumption to bubonic plague. But now she spreads, among other things, sunshine wherever she goes.

WYATT HERTZ
Wyatt Hertz is by far the most famous lawman in the West. He kept the wild frontier town of Roadkill under tight control, keeping the locals in line with an iron fist of fear. That is, until a shotgun blast caught him in the tender parts. Legend has it that Wyatt was ambushed by the vicious Partridge Family gang, and he didn't stand a chance. That was a year ago. Since then, he's retired, letting Judge Waylon Payne reign as both sheriff and justice of the peace. Now Wyatt runs a lucrative rent-a-horse business. He never lost a gunfight, and some folks believe he could take out a whole gunslingin' gang with a single round from his six-shooter.

DEE ADELA MUERTE
She is known as just Adela to her friends. Adela is a Mexican beauty with the most pious of spirits but is plagued by bad luck. She's been thrice-widowed-each time as a newlywed. Her first husband, a local politician, died shamefully during one of his secret outings to the Pigeon Ranch. Her second husband, the town pastor, died while preaching, and her third husband, the town undertaker, keeled over from exhaustion while planting the thirteen Handcart boys. Now poor Adela is left to deliver Sunday sermons and forced to become town undertaker. Still, she knows that she will rise above her misfortune. Until then, she'll continue to wear her black mourning veil.

ELIAS TRUIST-HEATH
Young Elias is an up-and-coming heart-throb gunfighter. He can dazzle spectators with his quick draw and a spin from his guns, and when he's not showing off his slinging skills, he's demonstrating his pugilistic prowess. He's known as the best brawler west of the Mississippi and comes out of every fight with nary a scratch. Orphaned as a boy, Elias was raised under the firm, wise hand of Judge Waylon Payne. After a patriotic stint with the U.S. Cavalry, Elias returned home to Roadkill and to the women who adore him.

So, with some help from Cap'n Bubbles and Blondie Blaarrrgghhh I constructed the following brief character sketches.

WILD BILLIE HICCUP : Like lots of other folks, "Wild" Billie Hiccup caught gold fever and headed out west; unlike most folk, however, Billie followed the siren call of gold to the badlands surrounding the town of Roadkill, which have never shown a sign of gold, be it fools or otherwise. Still, Billie has stuck to her guns, telling one and all that there's gold in these parts, if one just knows where to look.

LIL BIGHORN : As a servant for the well-off deFields family, Lillith "Lil" Bighorn has seen and heard more than her fair share of gossip-worthy goings-on, gossip that she is more than willing to share with anyone who cares to reciprocate. An orphan, Lil holds an almost irrational loathing of Chief Breaking Wind, the sole surviving member of the Cowpai tribe, whom she blames for the death of her family.

SUZE JABLYND : One of the most talented lawyers in the territories, Suze never lost a case until she came to the town of Roadkill, and discovered that, where Judge Waylon Payne is concerned, the most important law to remember is Payne's law. The highly competitive Suze refused to be deterred and began trying to find ways to beat Payne at his own game.

LIZA LOTTS : Owner of the local watering hole, The Monkeyhog Saloon, Liza is a shrewd businesswoman, and has her fingers in dozens of different pies throughout the county, but has a special place in her heart for the town of Roadkill. Strong-willed and stubborn, she sometimes butted heads with Judge Waylon Payne over what was best for the town, and always butts heads with Elvira Lynn-Fekshin, owner of the competing saloon The Pigeon House, which doubles as the local House of Ill Repute .

BELLE REENGS : All the children of the town of Roadkill love the town's schoolmarm, Belle Reengs. Belle's devotion to her pupils is admired by all, but few suspect that her passion for teaching hides a desire to fill a void in her life left by the passing of her own child under mysterious circumstances years before she moved to town.

NICK O'THYME : If anyone in town of Roadkill needs to now just how long it takes to get from Point A to Point B on the map, all they need to do is ask the local railroad clerk Nick O'Thyme. A paragon of punctuality, Nick does everything he can to keep trains running on time, and detests disorder of any sort.

"DOC" TORA L. THEESUS ; As the resident sawbones of Roadkill, "Doc" Tora is quite possibly the busiest person in the whole county; just treating the wounds of the poor souls who fall afoul of Elias Truit-Heath's short temper and quick fists is practically a full-time job, and when you add in the victims of Butch Chastity's gang of outlaws, not to mention those who've been unfortunate enough to tangle with the Malevolent Seven. Still, the doc plugs away, hoping against hope that maybe someday she'll get a chance to rest.

BRUCE ENDBATTERT : As bartender at the Monkeyhog Saloon, Bruce also serves as his boss Liza Lott's chief bouncer, trying to keep the rowdy residents of Roadkill in line, at least as long as they're in his place of employment; once they stumble out the swinging saloon doors, he washes his hands of them. A former boxer whose promising career was cut short by a scandal he doesn't like to talk about, Bruce has little patience for most, including big-wig Judge Waylon Payne, but will occasionally display a soft-spot for those he feels have been unjustly wronged.

GRAIZE DeFIELDS : While his property holdings may not be as extensive as that of the Handcart family, Graize more than makes up for it in the ostentation of his palatial family homestead, reluctantly financed by his wealthy parents from the seemingly bottomless pockets of the DeFields fortune. A widower, Graize spends what free time he has away from managing his cattle trying to corral his foster daughter, Frida Rhome

FRIDA RHOME : The high-spirited foster child of wealthy land-owner Graize DeFields, Frida does not think of herself as a rebellious girl, just independent. Having lost her mother at a young age, and never having known her father, Frida often feels herself trapped by her guardian's good intentions, preferring to ride freely across the plains rather than study her lessons with her tutor, Eve L. Aystare. The only thing that makes life in the DeFields household bearable for her is her friendship with DeFields servant and fellow orphan Lil Bighorn.

KIM O'SAWBEY : Owner of Roadkill's only General Store, Kim sees herself as a vital force in the growing community, although she has come to accept that that viewpoint is not shared by some others in town, most notably the powerful Judge Waylon Payne. But Kim refuses to let the dismissive attitude of Payne and his cronies deter her, and continues to push to establish some influence of her own.

EVE L. AYESTARE : The stern Eve was hired by Graize DeFields to keep his high-spirited foster child, Frida Rhome, in check, a task whose appeal for Eve has increased the more challenging it has become; to Eve, simple tasks breed simple minds. A firm believer in the use of a firm hand in instruction, Eve has nothing but contempt for the sweet-natured schoolmarm Belle Ringz.

ACE UPPIS-LEAF : An inveterate gambler, the card sharp who insists on being called "Ace" claims he was born under a lucky star, but many of those he plays against think he was born with a few extra cards tucked here and there. After being banned from the Monkeyhog Saloon for causing a disturbance (i.e. winning one too many hands one too many times causing one too many fights to break out), Ace moved his gambling ways over to the Pigeon Ranch, where he seems to have met his match in the man who makes his own luck, Judge Waylon Payne.

RED E. HORNAUGHT : A long time ranch-hand for the Handcart clan, Red is almost slavishly devoted to his boss-lady, Helena, and has become even more so since the death of her 13 sons. Formerly a regular patron of both the Pigeon Ranch and Monkeyhog Saloon, Red now hardly leaves the Handcart ranch except to attend the local church service by Dee Adela Muerte.

RAY HOFFKEY : Despite earning his living playing piano at the Monkeyhog Saloon, Ray spends most of his wages at the Monkeyhog's chief competition, The Pigeon Ranch, where he feeds his gambling addiction. Ray's nimble fingers on the keyboard don't quite translate to nimbleness elsewhere, either with playing cards -- which is why he never beats Ace Uppis-Leaf or Judge Waylon Payne at poker -- or with firearms -- which is why he never has drawn a gun on either of the suspected cheats, no matter how sure he is that he just got rooked. Instead, Ray merely heads back to the Monkeyhog and pounds out his frustrations on the keyboard, although some are sure that someday it will take more than tickling the ivories to soothe his temper.

MAY SHIREZ-TINPEESE : Innkeeper of the only hotel in Roadkill, May prides herself on maintaining an air of sophistication even in the middle of a town populated by bandits, cutthroats, and cheats. Assiduously avoiding patronizing either the Pigeon Ranch or Monkeyhog Saloon lest her reputation be damaged, May instead spends her spare time cultivating relationships with the rich and powerful members of the community in hopes that some of their luster may rub off on her.

And last, but not least, the character I created for myself:

TOM BULLWEED: The town's resident drunk, Tom was once a respected lawman and deputy in Roadkill, until Judge Waylon Payne stripped him of his badge on what Tom insists were trumped up charges. Despondent, Tom turned to drink to find his solace. Not taken seriously by much of anyone in town, Tom spends most of his time bemoaning his fate to the staff of the Monkeyhog Saloon, some of whom are more sympathetic than others.

Of course, due to the structure of this particular Murder Mystery, creating 17 extra characters led to even more work, since I had to take the clues that were provided for the original and parcel them out to all of the new characters so that everyone could be included. I hope to be recovered enough from the experience to blog about the pros and cons of that decision before the week is up, but no promises.

Cardinal Points

The other day The Cardinal sent out an email to a few of The Singles asking us why it was that he's the only person with a murder-mystery specific nickname.

"Why isn't Trouble 'Preggo'?" he inquired

Trouble (in costume) posing next to Mama Lighbulb (who wasn't)

"Or Disaster 'Cokehead'?"

Cap'n Disaster showing off her hidden drug stash

He then continued on to say that he felt picked upon and that it was such thoughts as these that kept him awake at night and prevented him from getting into a good school.

Magic Pants and Cap'n Cluck responded by listing off some of his other nicknames, such as Ultimate Fighter and Dennis, but of course, the reason The Cardinal is known to the Singles as The Cardinal is because, prior to the murder mystery, none of us knew him at all, so when we would see him out and about or try to describe him to others, we would use our only point of reference. After all, if you're going to dress like this

you've really got to expect that that's going to stand out in people's minds.



He also asked if, since there's an Anti-Cap'n to offset Cap'n Cluck, is there also an Anti-Pants to offset Magic Pants? I responded that I thought of someone who might be the Anti-Pants, personality wise, and then accidentally pictured him as also being Anti-Pants in a more literal fashion, and therefore had to go gouge out my eyes and hope that the shock freed me from the mental image forever.

There were a few other digressions in the replies flying back and forth (including Magic Pants declaring herself the Nickname Irregularity Containment Keyman & Notably Addicted Moniker
Enthusiast and the formatin of the Coalition Against Magic Pants, or CAMP), but in the end, The Cardinal's valiant efforts to dislodge his nickname were fruitless, for the nonce.

However, I did mentione his nickname suggestion to Trouble and, well, let's just say that the next time he runs into her, he might have to put his Ultimate Fighter nickname to the test . . .

Me Llamo Cap'n Pusher

Last night I attended my second Murder Mystery party, with participants from First Baptist and from Denton Bible Church; I had hoped that it would be more fun without having to serve my borderline-OCD need to keep the script on course like the first time; were my hopes in vain?

The answer is: kinda.

Before I got to the party, all I knew was that I was going to be playing a South American (I decided beforehand I would be Argentinian just so I could say "Soy de Are-hen-tina" with a gutteral h all evening) businessman who knew the deceased Baroness; once I got there I was handed an envelope with a little more back-story: my character was, in fact, a drug dealer specializing in heroin; the Baroness, who had died of an overdose, had been my biggest client, and another character, Simmie Shade, p was another. My goals for the game were (a) to find the killer in order to clear myself; (b) to find buyers for six bags of heroin (actually Ziploc bags of flour); and (c) to buy an artifact during the auction portion of the game as a means of laundering my drug money; I wound up fulfilling two out of three, sort of.

The first 30 minutes or so of the game were a flurry of activity, as many people who heard me list my job as "import/export" figured out that I was the pusher; I quickly sold 4 of my bags, but was stymied thereafter by a rival dealer, J.J. Sly. Unfortunately, once everyone had made their requisite drug purchase, hardly anyone had anything to say to me; there were multiple plotlines going on among the rest of the characters, and none of them intersected with mine. And while I was enjoying staying in character, the whole murder-solving aspect just wasn't working for me. When it came time for the auction, I still had a couple of baggies left that I hadn’t sold; while bidding on the final item, it looked like my competitor, J.J. Sly, was going to out bid me, but Cap’n Cluck and Cap’n Disaster both gave me some money to help me win, since his character had cheated them earlier on in the evening; after I won, I gave each of them a baggie in appreciation.

As I had predicted, there were varying degrees of role-playing going on, ranging from totally in the zone to totally bland. Interestingly enough, most of the people getting into the swing of things were the druggie characters: the aforementioned Simmie Shade, who played creepy so well that everyone started referring to him as Slim Shady; Cap'n Disaster, whose jonsing for a fix transformed her into Cap'n Sniffles for the evening; Cap'n Cluck, who was exhilarated when her character sheet instructed her to be Cap'n Twitch, although Slim Shady told her it looked more like she needed a neurologist than a fix; Bruiser, who, after scoring a hit from me, then proceeded to walk around the rest of the evening stuffing his face and exclaiming very loudly just how good he felt now; and Cap'n Bumper's fiancé’s roommate (really need to come up with a nickname for her), whose character was hallucinating for most of the evening. Out of the non-druggie characters I interacted with, the most into it was probably Smooth Money, who played the super-clueless police inspector; he had the full Sherlock Holmes outfit, and went around accusing everyone ceaselessly; I had fun stonewalling his interrogation attempts, especially when he forgot exactly what it was he was accusing me of doing; he had me confused with one of the many, many characters who were trying to sell him information, instead of the guy he was trying to extort money from.

The biggest downside of the experience for me was the way my character's story died out pretty early on; nobody other than the druggies and the inspector seemed interested in talking to me, even though heroin was the murder weapon; which is too bad, since in the end nobody guessed who the real killer was: my one pre-existing drug client, Slim Shady. There also seemed to be a bit of segregation between the participants from First Baptist and the participants from Denton Bible; not that either group was overtly stand-offish towards the other, but without directions from the character sheet to seek out a specific person from the other camp, most of us tended to stick to people we already knew. I tried branching out a few times, but as we all know by now, the whole "mingling with strangers" thing is hard for me at the best of times; when everyone is playing a part and trying to keep secrets, it becomes even harder; had a difficult time telling how much of their behavior was character, and how much was real. Plus, I don't know if the people who didn't know me knew quite what to make of my, shall we say, original interpretation of a South American accent; still, it must have made an impact on the planners, since when it came time to hand out some awards at the end, guess who got "Best Actor"?

All in all, an entertaining evening, but either a more integrated character, or a larger percentage of people willing to interact with me, would have increased my enjoyment quite a bit. Plus, I didn’t get to have a spectacular death scene yet again; one of these days . . .

Dying on Stage

Tonight I shall be attending a Murder Mystery party hosted by The Singles; I'll try to have a full report on it in a day or so. But first, I thought I'd tell you all about my first Murder Mystery experience.

A couple of years back The Singles decided to host a Murder Mystery dinner; the set-up was a little different from what I was familiar with for these things; instead of having everyone at the party assigned a character and some clues, there was a set script and fixed number of actors who would intermingle with the audience at the beginning of dinner, and then put on a mini-play; I, never being one to shy away from making an ass of myself in a theatrical venue, volunteered to be one of said actors; it would prove to be both an enjoyable and a frustrating experience.

The script that we did was a 1920s gangster theme; I was the hot-headed younger brother of the Don. The basic plot was that someone was sabotaging the Don's business; one by one the suspects get bumped off, until finally it's revealed that it was our cousin, the daughter of the old Don (played by Trouble), tired of being overlooked and ready to establish herself as the Godmother. My character was one of the last three standing; after gunning down one of the final suspects and dragging his body from the room, I would then be honored with a toast from the Don, only to find that the drink was poisoned; I then got to do an over-dramatic “choking, dropping (hard) to my knees, convulsing on the floor” death scene; by far the most spectacular of the on-stage deaths, so I was pretty happy with it . . . during practice. The night of the performance? That's a zoot suit of a different color . . .


I knew the play aspect of the dinner was in trouble when we were only able to get together to practice once before the day of the dinner, and not even all of us could make it then, since one of the actors was out of town; he wound up not getting back until right before the dinner, so we really only had one full run-through, and even then everyone was still carrying their scripts with them the whole time. Now, one thing I've always been gifted at is memorizing stuff, and many years of doing plays and competitive speech and the BSU drama team made me fairly adept at learning lines quickly; I may give a totally wooden line reading, but at least they're going to be the right wooden lines. Most of my fellow actors for this event were lacking this sort of experience, however, and I found myself having to fall back on another skill that I had been forced to cultivate in my acting days: maneuvering everyone back on-script when they would stray. After the total confusion of our first rehearsal, I typed up a streamlined cheat sheet of plot points in the hopes of keeping everyone on track; I wasn't as concerned with the exact dialogue, which, let's be honest, wasn't exactly Shakespeare, so much as making sure that people didn't accidentally jump the gun on key scenes (an oddly appropriate choice of phrasing, as it would turn out). I'm not sure if it did much good in the end, since nobody got the cheat sheets until that final rehearsal, but it made me feel like I was doing my part to stave off total chaos.

The first part of the evening where we just got into character and mingled with the dinner-guests, comprised of other Singles and their family and friends, was lots of fun; I think I do a lot better with my acting when I'm in improv mode; when I'm shackled to a script, my need to be exact in my line delivery takes me out of the moment a bit, whereas a free-flowing improve let me just run with whatever was going on. Had a lot of fun playing the hot-headed, short-fused, bloodthirsty gangster; Papa Lightbulb kept telling everyone I was scaring him. My other favorite aspect of this early section was one of the Singles who had volunteered to be in it, but had been unsure if she could make it, so got assigned an optional character who was mainly there to serve as an additional red herring; of course, since she was an optional character, her name didn't appear in the list of family members in the faux obituary that was printed as part of the story, so she used that fact to make her character a Cellophane-esque paranoid, always trying to be noticed; we all, in turn, kept calling her crazy and telling the guest to ignore her, which would incite cries of indignation on her part; several of the audience members commented afterwards that her character was their favorite part. And then, it was time to start the play itself . . .

From the start, I was having to do damage control; I really don't know how many things got omitted, transposed, or altered during the course of the evening. There are two things in particular that stand out to me. The first involved a note one of the actors was supposed to give the Don at a key moment late in the play; I think he got that piece of paper at least three times before he was supposed to. As she would hand it to him at the wrong time I would try to signal him "Not yet, not yet!", and whether through his own memory or my efforts, he played each of these premature deliveries off as a note from the kitchen about dinner, or something like that; of course, when it really was time for the note to be delivered she missed her cue, and had to be prompted. A minor thing, but it kept me on my toes.

The second thing that sticks in my mind affected me much more directly; we had just reached the scene where I drag the dead body out into the hall and then come back in to get my poisoned drink; however, my Cap'n Cellophane powers must have been running at full steam that evening, because no sooner had I exited the room than the Don and Trouble forgot I existed, and proceeded onto the next scene where she pulls a gun on him and reveals that she was behind it all; enter a confused and bewildered me, who has just come back in ready to go all out in my poison death-throes only to find the play has moved on without me. I think I may have made some sort of exclamation to get their attention, at which point the quick-thinking Trouble trained her gun on me and opened fire; I launched myself backwards into the air and collapsed on the floor; I was so startled by the odd circumstances that I apparently forgot to close my eyes after I "died," which apparently freaked a couple of people out. While I was pleased that Trouble and I were able to roll with it, I was very saddened to miss out on my big death scene; I had bruised the heck out of my knees doing it during rehearsal, and now all of that was for naught. *sigh*

In the end, I really did have a good time doing it, despite everyone doing their best to drive my borderline-OCD to distraction; it was the first time I'd gotten to stretch my dramatic muscles in many a year, which was fun. Tonight's event is of what I think of as the more traditional Murder Mystery variety; as of this moment all anyone has is a brief outline of the crime (rich Baroness murdered), the setting (an auction of her belongings) and a short character description; I'll be playing Jay de Silva, a rich South American who often visits Britain on business, and used to visit the deceased regularly. When we arrive tonight, we'll each be given an envelope with more information and clues; while I'm bummed that I'm not going to be able to utilize my amazing rotating U.K. accent (look, he's a cockney! No, he's a Scot! No, he's one of the Beatles!), being able to just relax into character and not worry about herding all of the other actors should increase my enjoyment by a tremendous amount. Plus, who knows; maybe with all of the excitement, Baby Lightbulb might decide not to wait till his due date on Tuesday to make his grand entrance into the world; now that would make for one heck of an entertaining evening.