Stumbling Through the Dark Phoenix Saga (Part 5)

[Lorendiac]

The previous installments in this parody series are available at the following links. You may wish to study them before continuing with this new chapter! (After all, it’s been several months since my last installment, so you may want to refresh your memories.)

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4


Author's Note: As I have said in previous installments, the basic concept for this parody came to me after I examined the Darths & Droids website. Its premise is that the "plot" of Star Wars, Episode 1: The Phantom Menace is actually happening as a series of accidents and improvisations in a science fiction roleplaying game -- with the GM and his players living in a world where nobody has ever seen or heard of any "Star Wars" movies.

By the same token: This version of "The Dark Phoenix Saga" transpires in a world where, around late 1979 or early 1980, a group of roleplayers are enjoying a superhero campaign featuring a group of characters of their own creation who are collectively called the X-Men -- but in the world these roleplayers inhabit, nobody ever heard of "Marvel Comics" or "Chris Claremont" or "John Byrne." (They've never heard of "DC Comics" either.) The players and the GM are just making it all up as they go along! The GM has been running this "X-Men Campaign" for ages, but players have come and gone over the years. Most of the current players only joined the group at the time of the adventure pitting the X-Men against the dread Krakoa, the living island. The guy playing Cyclops is now the only one of the "original players" who is still around, although “Jean Grey, Phoenix" (the former Marvel Girl) has stayed active in the team as a GM-run character after her player dropped out.

(Jean only gained telepathy and a connection to the Phoenix Force after her original player quit the group and left the character behind. The GM refuses to let the players run telepathic characters themselves, because he feels it unbalances the game -- this opinion is based on some painful experiences he had many years ago, when he was just another newbie playing in a campaign about a bunch of high-powered munchkin characters called "the Justice League of America.")

To keep things simple, I never refer to the five players at the table by their "real" names; only their character names. Colossus, Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Storm, and Wolverine. Saves you the trouble of trying to remember who's who. However, they habitually address the GM as "Bill," and they frequently refer to his pet NPC, the sometimes overbearing Charles Xavier, as "Professor Plot-Hammer."




STUMBLING THROUGH THE DARK PHOENIX SAGA (PART FIVE)

Note: This should be blindingly obvious, but I’ll mention it anyway! This installment “adapts” events from “X-Men #134” (volume 1), cover-dated May 1980, which has retroactively become known as Part 5 of the legendary nine-part “Dark Phoenix Saga.” If you aren’t already familiar with the source material, you’re going to get clobbered with a ton of Spoilers as you read this! Furthermore, you probably won’t find it nearly as amusing if you aren’t in a position to compare and contrast my version with the original. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Quick Recap: Four X-Men attended a party at the Hellfire Club tonight in formal clothes – Scott, Jean, Ororo, Piotr. Meanwhile, Kurt and Logan were sneaking in underground. Jean was thoroughly subverted by the mental meddling of Jason Wyngarde, who has now been revealed as Mastermind, formerly of the original Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. (Cyclops is the only player who recognizes that name from past experience.) Meanwhile, Professor X and Angel are still at Angel’s secluded desert residence in the Southwest, as opposed to traveling to NYC along with the other X-Men. Apparently because the Prof has been going through one of his phases of being Remarkably Useless ever since this Saga began. Incidentally, in Part Four the players were developing a theory that the Prof’s general uselessness is evidence that he has either turned coward and/or is going seriously senile—probably the latter—and therefore this saga will turn out to be all about coping with his stubborn refusal to admit his progressive mental decay. It was a reasonable guess . . . but after Jean turned on them, they had cause to reconsider. As the previous installment ended, Wolverine’s character was getting drenched down in the sewers, and the other four Player Characters were all unconscious in a heap in an upstairs room at the Hellfire Club. We pick up from there.





GM: Okay, all four of you have awoken at roughly the same time. You’re all over against one wall in a large room. Several shelves of books off to one side; it’s possible this is called the Club Library. All of you are shackled. Metal collars around your necks; BIG metal things clamped around your midsections; wrists manacled at your backs, and chains connecting the wrist-cuffs to similar manacles on each ankle, meaning you’d have a very hard time running anywhere.

NIGHTCRAWLER: Just for the heck of it -- as soon as I’m awake enough to focus my eyes, I try to teleport out of this collection of unwanted hardware.

GM (spreading his hands): And nothing happens! Somewhere within these heavy restraints there must be cutting-edge mutant-power-suppressing technology, in a more portable form than those giant birdcages which the White Queen used in Chicago.

NIGHTCRAWLER: Saw that one coming! But I had to make sure I wasn’t overlooking the obvious.

COLOSSUS: Just to be clear . . . I take it I’m back in my normal form? Even though I sure don’t remember ever willing myself to change before I passed out?

GM: Yeah, after Sebastian Shaw kayoed you, and he—or someone—put on these restraints, the inhibitor field must have automatically caused your metabolism to reduce itself back down to the “default condition.” Com4e to think of it, same thing must’ve happened in Chicago before you woke up in that cage! On the bright side, your captors were apparently in a bit of a rush to get you people restrained before you awoke; all four of you still have your costumes on . . . mostly.

STORM: Mostly?

GM: Storm’s tiara is gone, and someone pulled off Cyclops’s mask and visor. However, they thoughtfully replaced it with a sort of helmet that looks as if it were carved out of one huge sphere of ruby quartz. Covers most of his head, except for the ears. The whole thing is a lot thicker than his normal visor, so he can’t see a thing that’s going on around him, and any attempts he might make to speak to the rest of you are muffled into incomprehensibility by the way it covers his mouth. However, the other three of you can see that at the back of his head a couple of hinged bits are padlocked shut to keep it all on.

[The GM pauses dramatically, to let them visualize the situation.]

NIGHTCRAWLER: Wow, sounds like someone went to a lot of trouble to design that fancy helmet in case Cyke ever fell into their hands!

GM: Yes, I suppose so. The Hellfire Club’s Inner Circle can afford to hire the best engineers for these little technical problems—

NIGHTCRAWLER: Then it’s awfully funny that they WASTED all that time and money in creating this totally SUPERFLUOUS ruby quartz helmet, eh?

GM: What?

NIGHTCRAWLER: It sounds like it could be incredibly useful if someone captured Cyclops and wanted to keep him under wraps in a situation where his power still WORKED! But why bother with the helmet when he’s already in these fancy mutant-inhibiting restraints, same as us? I can’t vanish in a puff of brimstone, Storm can’t generate lightning to short-circuit our high-tech shackles, Colossus can’t burst out of them with muscles of organic steel, and Cyclops’s eyes are no longer constantly emitting force blasts, right?

[The GM freezes as he realizes that once again his impudent players have spotted a plot hole. Per usual, he has no intention of admitting this in plain English, though. His motto: “Never show weakness when the pack of hungry wolves is eyeing you thoughtfully . . .”]

COLOSSUS: Wait. Once upon a time, when we were talking about where the extra mass comes from when I transform into organic steel and put on a few hundred pounds in the blink of an eye, didn’t Bill suggest that my mind subconsciously accesses some extradimensional reality and pulls through enough mass to complete the transformation? Then, when I downsize back to human, the mass returns from whence it came?

WOLVERINE: Reckon he did! It sounded so much more pseudo-scientific than “your super-strong muscles just MAGICALLY appear out of thin air!”

STORM: Yes, that latter excuse is good enough for Billy Batson in the comics and movies, but then, he got his powers from a WIZARD. We get ours from a “mutant gene,” so we need to pretend there’s a “logical” explanation.

[Author’s Note: Remember, in the world these roleplayers inhabit, Fawcett is still one of the biggest superhero comic book publishers in sight, and “Captain Marvel” occupies the same high-profile role in the public consciousness which has long been occupied by “Superman” in our world. I still haven’t decided who the cultural equivalents of “Batman” and “Wonder Woman” are. I’ll let you know if I do!]

[Lorendiac]

COLOSSUS: What I’m thinking is: What if our fearless leader’s optic blasts are similarly channeled in from some other continuum? Through some tiny rift in spacetime, constantly present right in front of his eyeballs (even when his eyelids close and thus block the blasts from escaping)? A rift which mutant-power-suppressing tech might NOT be powerful enough to temporarily seal shut?

WOLVERINE: Nah, that doesn’t work. Remember when we first met, when Cyke was a captive on Krakoa? He said his power had been blocked for awhile, so that he could see things normally for the first time in years, no ruby quartz required until the effect wore off! This tech ought to work the same way as Krakoa’s schtick did. Right?

[The GM sighs inaudibly. He’d been hoping his players would manage to come up with some semi-plausible excuse for this helmet. He’d been so in love with the image in his imagination of Cyclops wearing a featureless red helmet that he hadn’t stopped to think about the uselessness of it.]

COLOSSUS: Hold on! We don’t KNOW that our fearless leader’s blasts are “still happening” behind that red helmet; we only know that the Hellfire Club obviously was worried that it MIGHT work that way after he woke up and opened his eyes! Is it possible that they frankly aren’t SURE, one way or the other, but decided “better safe than sorry”?

STORM: That makes . . . some degree of sense. I can live with it, I guess.

CYCLOPS: I have a different theory. I think Bill is still nursing a grudge over the way I persuaded you guys to vote “no confidence” in Professor Plot-Hammer’s dumb idea about running home to the Mansion at the very start of this session. Now he’s found a way to gag me so that as far as IN-character dialogue is concerned, I can’t possibly give you guys any orders—or even helpful suggestions!

STORM (doing her level best to sound both sympathetic and brave about it—as opposed to gleeful, for instance): We’ll just have to struggle along without.

NIGHTCRAWLER: Okay, so lacking any clear guidance from Scott Summers, just what DO we do now that the other three of us can see we’re all awake? Suggestions?

STORM: I have a nasty hunch that the longer we let Mastermind keep manipulating Jean’s mind, the deeper his hooks get into her. I’m appointing myself spokesperson. Jean and I always had this bond, I thought—lots of girl talk, you know; we could let our hair down together. After all, I was one member of the group who never tried to hit on her when Scott wasn’t around.

WOLVERINE: Hey, be fair about this! I didn’t even insist on waitin’ till he was out of earshot! Unlike certain wimps I could mention!

STORM (impatiently): Whatever! The point is, I look Jean in the eye and put a sincere throb in my voice and appeal to her to remember our friendship—

GM: At which point she slaps your face, and makes it clear she’s chastising a renegade slave for presuming such familiarity with her owner. By the way, Jean’s also upset that you’ve been conspiring against Good King George, along with these other prisoners—a trio of captured rebels, of course. It’s rapidly becoming clear that she doesn’t see your flashy costumes, nor does she show any awareness of the big red helmet covering Scott’s face.

COLOSSUS: Oh, terrific. She REALLY thinks it’s about two hundred years ago, doesn’t she? Before Washington and Lafayette got Cornwallis to surrender at Yorktown, effectively deciding the outcome of the war?

STORM: Okay, that isn’t working, and my character doesn’t need the further humiliation. Anyone got another plan?

COLOSSUS: Hmmm. James Bond might have a miniature laser, or acid-squirting item, or something, concealed about his person so he could burn through the manacles. Anyone got anything like that?

[People shake their heads.]

COLOSSUS: Okay, forget Double-Oh Seven. How did WE get out of this sort of fix, the last time around?

STORM: Well, Wolvie THOUGHT he could still use his claws, since they don’t evaporate into thin air whenever our mutant powers do . . . but Bill put the kibosh on that idea in a hurry! We finally had to wait for little Kitty Pryde to pull our fat out of the fire.

NIGHTCRAWLER: Gee, it almost makes me wish Kitty were STILL hanging around!

[There is a moment of horrified silence before the other players react.]

COLOSSUS: Blasphemy!

CYCLOPS: Bite your tongue!

STORM: Young man, if you don’t clean up your language in a hurry, I may have to wash out your mouth with soap!

NIGHTCRAWLER: All right, I’m sorry! You know I didn’t really mean it!

WOLVERINE: Besides, what do you need that little twerp around for when you’ve got ME?

CYCLOPS: Well, I admit you can SLICE right through anything she could PHASE right through, but we DON’T exactly have you at the moment, do we? When last heard from, you were practically drowning in the sewer system.

WOLVERINE: Hey, I’m coming back as quick as I can! Bill, how long were they asleep? Long enough for that note I passed you to kick in?

BILL (glances at something on a piece of paper behind his screen): Not that long, no. But I’ll concede that you’re probably back under the clubhouse by now. Is it okay with everybody if we take time out from your predicament to play out Wolverine’s first encounter with some of the uniformed mercenaries?

[Nobody argues. I’ll skip over what happens next. It filled the first 4-and-1/3 pages of the issue I’m adapting, but since it was just one Player Character tearing through a bunch of cannon fodder, with his friends nowhere in sight, there isn’t too much opportunity for good parody opportunities there. All things considered, I think I’ll also skip over what we saw later on of Wolverine’s solo journey in search of his friends. We’ll catch up with him in the next installment—I don’t think Bill would have jumped back and forth between players as frequently as Claremont and Byrne were jumping back and forth from the imprisoned X-Men to Wolvie’s scenes in this issue. Anyway, we’ll pick up with what Wolverine says after winning the first fight, and before ascending to ground level.]

WOLVERINE: Okay, guys, things are off to a promisin’ start. I took down the first team before they could send any distress signals. That oughta give me a few minutes before anyone comes lookin’ for ‘em down here in the dark. Maybe I can sneak up a back stair or somethin’, track you fellas to the right room by scent, and then charge in and slash off some of those manacles before anybody can react. Since Jean’s all brainwashed at the moment, I don’t think she’s likely to sense me coming with her telepathy, and I don’t think any of the other baddies have super-senses like mine.

NIGHTCRAWLER: It’s a thin plan—but it’s better than NOTHING! On our end, it just requires we stall for time! Since talking to Jean just gets a slap in the face, I’ll switch to the Big Cheese and hope he’s one of those master villains who NEVER misses a chance to brag about his own cleverness! I humbly ask “Herr Shaw” why we are still his living, breathing prisoners at this point. If he wanted us dead, we’d never have woken up. So he must have some nefarious scheme up his sleeve, right?

GM: Good call! Shaw takes a deep breath and starts talking, with a smug grin reflecting his certainly that he’s completely in control of the situation. Apparently the Inner Circle of the Hellfire Club is trying to get in on the ground floor of the next big thing in genetic engineering. Mass production of super-powered mutants! The fly in the ointment is that nobody’s yet isolated the exact genetic factor which makes all the difference, so they’ve got to do some fancy experimentation which involves using the four of you as guinea pigs for . . . who knows how long?

COLOSSUS: Wouldn’t it make more sense to round up stray mutants, untrained and unorganized individuals, who wouldn’t put up so much of a fight? As opposed to the way we thrashed a whole bunch of their armored thugs in the first couple of encounters, and then Jean killed the White Queen for an encore?

STORM: That depends. Just how many mutants are available in the world, that we know of?

CYCLOPS (after all, he’s been playing in this “mutant campaign” a lot longer than anyone else at the table except the GM): Well, present and former X-Men probably account for at least 16 or 17, although a few are dead. But if Shaw’s people tried to round up Iceman or Polaris, for instance, then the rest of us would come running to help if the target managed to get out a distress call. Maybe they figured it made more sense to pick us off first, and then round up the stragglers later. Aside from us and our good buddies, there’s Magneto and his Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, and Vanisher, and the late Proteus—but even IF they knew about him, I can understand why they didn’t want to risk letting him out—and then there’s a few more in that “Alpha Flight” group we tangled with a while back . . . and most recently we’ve met Kitty, Dazzler, and now at least three more previously unknown mutants of the Hellfire Club—Shaw, Leland, and Frost—and probably a few more I’ve met over the years, but I guess maybe untrained, unorganized mutants who work ALONE aren’t exactly thick on the ground . . .

[Lorendiac]

WOLVERINE: Hey! We only found Kitty and Dazzler ‘cause Cerebro picked up signs of them manifestin’ their powers. Which was reasonable, ‘cause they’re both pretty new at this, and even if Cerebro might’ve detected them sooner, the X-Mansion was empty for awhile after the Prof thought most of us had died in Antarctica. But it seems like Shaw and Leland and Frost had been doin’ what they do for YEARS before we ever got wind of their precious Club! How come Cerebro NEVER noticed some “previously unknown mutants” were wanderin’ in and out of a clubhouse right here in the Big Apple on a regular basis, just a hop, skip, and jump from Westchester?

[There’s a long pause. The GM has one or two ideas on how to answer that question, actually, but decides to let his players talk it out among themselves first.]

STORM: Maybe for the SAME reason Jean’s telepathy wasn’t picking up the truth about “Jason Wyngarde’s” identity and intentions, even at point-blank range? Some sort of cloaking technology which prevents telepaths, including telepathy-powered equipment such as Cerebro, from detecting or mind-reading any mutants who have the right countermeasures in their pockets?

NIGHTCRAWLER: That reminds me—remember our clash with some steel-skinned guy called “Warhawk,” several sessions ago? He invaded the mansion, and kayoed Jean and Prof Plot-Hammer before they could figure out what was happening. Didn’t Bill tell us Warhawk had some kinda psychic shield to prevent them from sensing his approach, even though he didn’t seem telepathic himself? Think there’s a connection?

GM: Since you’ve already figured most of it out, I’ll give you that one, guys. Warhawk was, in fact, a carefully prepped agent of the Hellfire Club, and he planted some bugs which the Club later used in setting up the ambushes for you in Manhattan and Chicago! His psychic shielding was arranged by the White Queen, and she’s also helped other members of the Club with field-testing some tricky devices. Including some stuff Mastermind is using to augment his natural illusion-casting.

CYCLOPS: With that settled . . . Nightcrawler, try to keep them talking about their plans. There’s one other gimmick I can try—and I’m desperate enough to give it a shot. Back when Jean and I were on that butte, she set up a “permanent psychic link” between our minds. So far it hasn’t meant a heck of a lot, but I THINK I can dial my way into her skull with it from my end, despite my vast lack of psychic talent.

COLOSSUS: If you do make it in through a back door, what will that mean? That you can make her hear voices in her head? More than she ALREADY does, I mean? Will you be the guardian angel whispering in one ear, to countermand the evil suggestions of the devil on the other shoulder?

CYCLOPS: Beats me! So wish me luck!

[The GM tells Cyclops what dice to roll, and he does. He makes it on the first try.]

GM: Okay, you’re suddenly surrounded by lots of solid white limbo. You’re in full uniform, without the pesky helmet.

CYCLOPS: Any landmarks?

GM: Not yet.

CYCLOPS: Guess I’ll start walking forward, counting my paces, for lack of a better plan.

GM: And something happens! You WERE wearing your uniform, but now it’s just morphed into yellow-and-blue clothes in the style of two centuries ago! Even your visor is gone, although no optic blasts are forthcoming, since this is purely mental anyway. On the brighter side, you now have a basket-hilted sword hanging from your left hip.

CYCLOPS: That last item would be a heck of a lot MORE comforting if my character had ever taken fencing lessons.

GM (shrugs): Hey, you can’t have everything! An unfamiliar weapon is better than no weapon at all, right?

CYCLOPS: Somehow, I doubt it.

STORM: This raises a question. Is JEAN the one making you look all Revolutionary War-ish when you’re wandering around inside her mind? In which case she’s still more-or-less in control of certain details, and you MIGHT have a prayer of persuading her we’re the good guys? Or is Mastermind strong enough to manipulate every last little detail of her perceptions and YOURS, even on the astral plane? In which case we’re probably sunk, because no matter how hard you try to tug on her heartstrings, she’ll only hear exactly what the puppet-master wants her to hear, instead of whatever you actually said?

COLOSSUS: Let’s just pray it’s the former, shall we?

GM: Cyclops—a doorway suddenly materializes a little way ahead of you. It looks very much like the front entrance of the New York Hellfire Club as it exists today. No walls, though—just the doorway in the middle of nowhere! As you approach, the double doors open, showing Jason Wyngarde and Jean Grey, dressed much as they are in reality, except that Jason has removed his purple coat and is holding a drawn sword (which he doesn’t seem to have in the waking world).

CYCLOPS: I remind Jean that we are lovers and X-Men! Hopefully that will carry more weight in here, with our psychic link, where she can sense my sincerity.

GM (rolls some dice just for the heck of it): No good. She’s still on her “you must be a vile rebel” kick. And still calling Wyngarde her husband, for that matter!

CYCLOPS: This is when I really HATE having a key team member be an NPC. If Tracy were still running this character, I’d coax her into throwing me a bone somehow.

STORM: No, if Tracy were still playing Jean, then Jean would still be “Marvel Girl, the garden-variety telekinetic,” and you two never would have formed a “psychic bond” in the first place!

[Note: Remember, Bill the GM has an ironclad rule against telepathic Player Characters. The character of “Jean Grey” only became “Phoenix, the mega-powerful telepath” after her player, Tracy, dropped out of the group and generously left her character behind for Bill to play with. That’s what Storm is alluding to.]

GM: Wyngarde is coming down the steps toward you, obviously ready to skewer you. What’s your response?

CYCLOPS: I draw my sword and try to block his attack!

NIGHTCRAWLER: “Parry” is the word.

CYCLOPS: Whatever!

[The GM and Cyclops both do some rolling for strikes and parries during this next bit, but I’ll leave out the actual dice-rolling. The results will, not surprisingly, be whatever the GM wants them to be for dramatic purposes!]

NIGHTCRAWLER (trying to help as a kibitzer): Remember, the point is superior to the edge. In fact, if those are rapiers you’re wielding, there may not even be an edge! So don’t sweat it too much if he slashes at you; it’s the thrusts you’ve got to watch out for! Keep your right shoulder toward him so you’re not presenting too wide a target—

GM: Mastermind is bragging about how he’s known of your new “rapport” with Jean all along, and allowed for it in his plans. He figures that once he kills you, her last real link with the outside world will be gone, and then she’ll be COMPLETELY amenable to anything he suggests she do to anyone she sees as rebel scum . . .

[Some more dice-rolling. Cyclops still is not bleeding, but hasn’t come anywhere near drawing blood, either.]

NIGHTCRAWLER: If all else fails, which it probably will, then concentrate on parrying and retreating, emphasis on the retreating! You’ve got the minor advantage of not being in a tournament where both fencers are required to stay within certain bounds. So if you’re dancing around in endless limbo, Mastermind may find it awfully hard to get you backed into a corner! You might eventually tire him out . . . well, if swordsmen’s arms and legs ever GET tired in dream-land?

GM: Nightcrawler, that’s enough of that. You can’t see what’s going on. Your buddy can’t articulate what he’s experiencing. You don’t even know there IS an “imaginary duel.” So you have no reason to be giving him detailed advice.

CYCLOPS: Not that it was making any difference, anyway—but Mastermind seems to actually know what he’s doing, so couldn’t he have skewered me by now?

GM: Quite possibly! But from the way he’s smirking, you get the feeling he enjoys playing cat-and-mouse. Probably making up for all those times in the “good old days” when he was constantly aware that one of your optic blasts could swat him like a fly in a physical confrontation if you got angry enough.

CYCLOPS: And now the shoe is on the other foot, because I left my blasts behind in the real world?

[pause]

CYCLOPS: Hold on—what if I’m just too gullible? I’m going to glare at him and think HARD about firing off the psychic equivalent of an optic blast. This is the realm of the mind, right? If I focus my willpower on doing something I’ve done a zillion times before, MAYBE the result will rattle his teeth!

GM: Okay, roll for strength of will instead of what you’d usually roll for using your power.

CYCLOPS: What are the modifiers in these unique circumstances?

GM (very sweetly): Let ME worry about that! But since you insist you’re focusing your mind on this attempt, we’ll see what happens!

[Cyclops rolls.]

GM: No good! But while you’re intently focused on trying to blast at him from your eyes, Wyngarde finally decides it’s the perfect opening and thrusts through your heart! Cutting back to the real world—Colossus, Storm, Nightcrawler; you don’t know what happened, but you all hear Scott cry out in pain, and then his body slumps to the floor and lies very still! Then Wyngarde sneers something about how it was a noble effort, but the best man won!

SCOTT: Do I need to start rolling up a new character? I’ve still got some nifty ideas for a “third Summers brother . . .”

STORM: In other words, and more urgently, is it time for us to elect a new field leader?

[To Be Continued -- after all, we still have four installments of the original Saga left for me to parody, someday!]

[Lorendiac]

Author’s Note: One of the problems which occurred to me as I reread “X-Men #133” was that a lot of its content wouldn’t adapt well (if at all) to my parody treatment. Scenes set on Muir Isle and in the Southwest were “off limits” because no Player Characters were present for either, so there’s no reason for the GM to bring everyone else at the table up to speed on what’s currently happening with Sean, Moira, Warren, and the Professor. That’s two pages “gone” right there, and the story only had 17 pages of storytelling to begin with!

(Furthermore, since I don’t get to acknowledge the brief scene in the Southwest in this installment, I don’t get to have any of the players making fun of the GM for losing track of whether Angel’s Aerie is in New Mexico or in Arizona. In #132, Claremont wrote “New Mexico”; in #133, he said “Arizona.” Now I’ll never get to call this to your attention. Sigh . . . another missed opportunity!)

Almost as bad for my purposes: The first 4-and-1/3 pages are JUST Wolverine scuffling with some Hellfire Club mercenaries, with his friends nowhere in sight, and that isn’t particularly useful to me. So he rolled dice like crazy and demolished some cannon-fodder henchmen . . . where’s the humor in that? He gets a few more short scenes, which I skipped for similar reasons. At this point, we’ve managed to eliminate about half of the original issue from getting any serious attention in this installment! Meanwhile, in the waking world, the four prisoners upstairs spent the entire issue just bound and helpless, accomplishing nothing in particular, although at least Scott got to have a “fight” in a purely mental realm.

It took me awhile to decide how to get around all that. The result is that the players probably spent more time than ever in analyzing possible plot holes in the GM’s scenario, since there wasn’t much else for them to do as part of my effort to “fill up space” in this installment to pad it out to a respectable length! And there’s more of that to come—examining this issue, I suddenly realized there is at least one noteworthy plot hole which is scheduled to happen in the NEXT issue! I assure you, the players will have a ball making fun of it when the GM springs it on them! Stay tuned!