Camp Crystal Meth

My pal Mattie ran her first game last Friday, and it was a hoot and a half. Super fun time, she had a great sense for pacing right out of the gate, and she really hit all the raunchy notes that make a PLANET MOTHERFUCKER game feel like a night out at the local Waffle House. Also, it was my first time actually getting to be a player in a PMF game (I've only ever been in the driver's seat), so that was extra cool.

Here's what went down.

There were four of us, a scumbag with a mohawk, a preacher who didn't seem to know much about religion, a werewolf with movie-star looks, and an erection-poppin' goon, and we were on our way to Gnawlins when we realized we took a wrong turn and were almost out of gas. Luckily, we made it to a farmhouse where we bartered with an old coot named Willard--he'd give us a can of gas and map if we agreed to head over to Camp Crystal Meth and clear out whoever was killing off the nubile, sexed-up, and drugged-out teenagers that liked to congregate there.

As red-blooded Americans, it was our duty to make sure those kids had a safe place to do meth and screw.

Over at the camp, we encountered a number of horrors: a blood-soaked crime scene, a girl with a genuine WAP, and a dude fighting for his life as he took a monstrous shit. We also agreed to retrieve a girl's vibrator from where she lost it in the camp's barn--she rewarded us with a sweet bow and bunch of arrows. We also traded a box of Twinkies to another chick for the promise of medical treatment in case we got our shit wrecked at some point at the camp.

Crossing the lake in a kayak and a rowboat, we got ambushed by a fucked-up gillman, but we ruined his fucking day. When we found a stereo to play a cassette we discovered early in the adventure, we learned that the killer--who was attacking the kids with a variety of gardening implements--was probably the grown-up child of a lady with a less-than-savory approach to childrearing. Back on the lake, we went behind the waterfall and found a grotto where the killer was making his lair. He was a tough fucker, but we filled him full of holes too.

Camp Crystal Meth was now clear for teenagers to get knocked up and addicted to drugs in once more. All in a day's work, really. We got our map and our gas, and were off to Gnawlins. After all, them beads ain't gonna throw themselves.