They Defeated Racism+

A couple weeks back I ran a PLANET MOTHERFUCKER one-shot as a "palate cleanser," which is ironic because the game tastes like a hangover. The characters were all members of the MONSTER SQUAD, a group of antiheroes in the Suicide Squad/Creature Commandos vein. Characters were assigned to the players based on which flavor of MONSTER energy drink they picked.

Characters

Beachgrinder, a wooden death metal tiki god in a torn Cannibal Corpse t-shirt

Kitten DeKlaw, an anime catgirl burglar in lycra booty shorts

Mako Gorejaw, a wereshark surfer who loves gnarly waves, dude

Thork Bloodbeard, an undead viking wielding the Axe of Crom

Mutilatrix, a military-grade robot domme with a whip

Events

The MONSTER SQUAD was on a train, sittin' tight in their magnetic handcuffs, on their way back to HQ from their last mission. Then the explosions started. The train rocked back and forth on the tracks as incendiaries burst around them, then the train derailed and turned side over side down a cliff.

When the dust settled, Kitten DeKlaw found herself free of her magnetic cuffs. She quickly got the others free, then they went in search of the lockbox where all their gear was stowed. What they found was TWO lockboxes: one that Thork smashed open held their weapons, but the other had been busted open with crowbars. While they were looking for clues as to what the fuck had happened, they heard the squawk of a walkie-talkie: it was Captain Johnny Goodkind, their handler. 

Captain Goodkind told them that the other lockbox contained reels of a print of Birth of a Nation that had been psychically altered by Nazimancers and imprinted with the power to turn whoever watched it into a racist. Their new mission was to retrieve that film at all costs before it could be publicly broadcast.

Luckily, Mako picked up the blood-scent of someone who had cut their hand getting the lockbox open. They followed the smell down to a "town" that was really little more than a street with a few businesses (a grocery store called White Circle, a bar called Chode's Place, a movie theater called Family Pictures, a gas station called GAS STATION, and Lucky Chan's--a combination laundromat and Chinese restaurant), and a bunch of stacked cargo containers being used as homes. 

Figuring that the evil film got taken to the movie theater, a couple members of the MONSTER SQUAD snuck in while the others kept the owner busy. They didn't find a rogue copy of Birth of a Nation, but they did find reels of Bambi and Deep Throat. They wrecked the theater's projector, then felt bad about it.

Their next stop was Lucky Chan's because they wanted some crab rangoon. Since they didn't have any money, they had to work for their treats: specifically, Kitten had to pretend to be one of those good luck cats with the moving paw in return for a plate of crab rangoon. They questioned the dude working there about who might have blown up the train--and he pointed outside as two racist-ass superpowered jerks, Redline and Sundowner, flew down from the sky.

FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! They killed the two "superheroes," then went back to the theater, where the owner was weeping and holding his broken projector like a baby. Mako fixed it for the poor guy, and in return he told them that more super goons brought a reel in to test it--then high-tailed it out of town. He was able to point them in the right direction, then he hot-wired a car for 'em so they could head off in pursuit.

A ways out of town, they found a big gathering--and it turned out to be a meeting of the DNC. As they drove to the parking lot, they got the lay of the land--concessions, a stage with speakers, food trucks, a flea market, and a big ol' drive-in movie theater screen. The evildoers' plan was now clear: they were gonna make the DNCers watch a magic movie that would turn everyone racist! Fuckin' shit!

They immediately checked out the projection tower, but there was no way to enter it from the outside--the only entrance was from inside the concession stand. One of the workers at the concession stand was a teenage girl in a Naruto t-shirt; the group rapped with her about anime, which got her on side. She told them to meet her by the porta-potties in an hour and she'd help them get in.

With an hour to kill, the MONSTER SQUAD checked out the flea market. Beachgrinder got a serial killer's cocktail recipe, Kitten got jerky and porn mags, Thork got a flannel shirt, Mako got a tattoo, and Mutilatrix took a tour of items removed from rectums. The weirdest one? The skull of Jimmy Hoffa. Raises more questions than it answers, right?

When they met up with Naruto Girl again at the porta-potties, she gave them ninja climbing claws she had ordered from the back of a karate magazine. They went back to the projection tower and started to climb--and then they were attacked by a giant black bird. That's right, they had been ambushed by Jim Crow! Kitten launched herself at Jim Crow, riding him around as he flew crazily.

Jim Crow wasn't their only problem. A guy in a KKK hood calling himself the Grand Wizard came down from the sky and summoned lightning to strike at our heroes. If that wasn't bad enough, a minivan rolled up and a Karen with a machine gun, calling herself The Segregator, jumped out. 

Kitten managed to force Jim Crow to crash land. She then smashed a claw into his beak, holding him in place while she put the barrel of her pistol to the side of his head, execution style. BLAMMO! Dead bird.

Meanwhile, a chanting crowd formed around Mutilatrix and The Segregator as they squared off, cat o' nine tails vs. machine gun. Then Mako came up behind The Segregator and bit her head off. Insert sad trombone sound here.

Thork leaped from the projection tower to take down the Grand Wizard--and missed. Totally ate shit. Thunder and lightning goddamn it's so exciting! Wounds all around, but Thork managed to cleave the racist wizard in two.

Beachgrinder made it up into the projectionist's booth and lit Birth of a Nation's silver nitrate reels on fire. They reported back to Johnny Goodkind that they had accomplished their mission. He told them to sit tight while another transport was dispatched from HQ, but they were like, nah, we're striking out on our own, see ya.

They piled back into their van and headed off, like the most fucked up version of the A-Team to ever exist.

PLANET MOTHERFUCKER IN PRINT

I used my own instructions (here) and printed myself a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER: SATANICO PANDEMONIUM EDITION. 

It turned out great!

You know it's free, right? Check it out if you missed it.

I've seen one other person's personal copy, but I want to see ALL of them. If you do a print version of the book, I wanna see what kinda cover you knocked out for it. Send images to totgad @ gmail dot com. 

People who send in pics of their print copy might get something cool & free in their inbox in a couple months, just sayin'.

Tip jar if you want to encourage this sort of thing.

SATANICO PANDEMONIUM EDITION (it's free, like your mom)

It's gonna be a long four years, ain't it?

Between the threats of insane tariffs and other moves to destabilize the global economy, who knows what's gonna happen to the tabletop gaming industry.

Luckily, we can always DIY our good times.

To that end, below you'll find a link to PLANET MOTHERFUCKER: SATANICO PANDEMONIUM EDITION. This pdf contains the original PLANET MOTHERFUCKER zine and all four supplements for the game: BLACK SUNSHINE, DEMONOID PHENOMENON, DEAD GIRL SUPERSTAR, and PUSSY LIQUOR.

Oh, that last one doesn't sound familiar? That's because no one besides me has ever seen it.

Here's the link to PLANET MOTHERFUCKER: SATANICO PANDEMONIUM EDITION.

I'm making the game available to everyone who wants it, for free, in the spirit of "Fuck this nonsense, let's do fun shit with our friends just to spite every joyless moron trying to make the world a worse place." Yeah, that's right, a full game, a two-hundred page book, and you can just have it on the house. 

That said, if you want to buy me a beer in thanks, I wouldn't say no. Here's my Ko-fi virtual tip jar.

Fair warning: PLANET MOTHERFUCKER is not for everyone. It's brash, crass, and patently offensive--just like America, baby. It's a post-apocalyptic rpg that is a love letter to trash culture, a scathing take on the peculiar strain of homegrown American madness, and a sadly prescient comment on the ways things are going.

Oh, you want a print copy? Here are some instructions on how to make one yourself that you can get here.

You're welcome.

But seriously, if you wanna buy me a beer you can do it here--lord knows I'm gonna need it. It's gonna be a long four years, like I said up top.

Got questions? Want to say 'sup? Email totgad AT gmail DOT com

DEAD GIRL SUPERSTAR

PLANET MOTHERFUCKER is back with a new supplement called DEAD GIRL SUPERSTAR that's full of thrills 'n' chills just in time for Halloween!

(You gotta have the "adult content" filter on at Drivethru for that link to work, homie.)

 Here's the blurb:

Welcome to a special midnight showing of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER. Get yourself a soda, a bucket of popcorn, and some Mike and Ikes from the concession stand. Then put on a poncho ‘cause you can expect a hefty blood spray this time around! Inside these pages, you’ll find a bunch of horror-themed Shticks, some bad guys to throw into the meat grinder, big pimpin’ villains, and a bunch of random tables for shit like Martian invasions and dumb Monster Mash crap like that. Viva la Wolf Man, bitches!

Inside you'll find:

• New character types like Spooky Scary Skeleton, Unnatural Symbiote, and Werewolf Heartthrob!
• New monsters like Hungry Hungry Himbos, Sheet Ghosts, and Wet T-Shirt Sirens!
• New Bad Guys like Bellatrix Lugosi, Guantanamo Bae, and Otto von Jizzmark! 
• Other crap for your game!

Get it today, it's spooktacular! And often really reprehensible and gross!

THE PLANET MOTHERFUCKER FILM FESTIVAL

One of the cool things about having a Discord is that you can do a film festival of the movies that inspired your game. This summer I did a PLANET MOTHERFUCKER FILM FESTIVAL to celebrate some of the fucked-up shit that birthed The Only Post-Apocalyptic Game That Matters. Here's what we watched:

Dead Hooker in a Trunk

The Lords of Salem

Machete

Terminal USA

Eaten Alive

The Doom Generation

Now that's a heady line-up! Also, this list is being recorded here for posterity and so that I make sure to show different movies in next year's PMF Film Fest.

Castlevania Doctrine

We took at a week off from the usual game a little while back to do a quick PLANET MOTHERFUCKER adventure that was directly inspired by a conversation on my Discord about how Dracula would take advantage of Florida's "castle doctrine." The adventure below was the ludicrous result.

Also, hey bucko, if you want to have this kind of fun in your life, have you picked up a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER? Do you also have the first two supplements, BLACK SUNSHINE and DEMONOID PHENOMENON? 

Characters

Chet, a Living Dead Hustler

Runa, a Church Burner

Dan Smakob, a Spooky Scary Skeleton

Dr. MK ULTRA, a Dr. Feelbad

Sault Voi Vittu, a Vermin Lord

Events

So the motherfuckers were sitting outside of a Mexican cantina in Swamplandia (aka Florida), munching on tacos, quesadillas, and complimentary chips & salsa. They saw a crowd gathering; from their chatter, they were expecting the arrival of their "savior." And then they saw him: a tall, impossibly pale man clad in a long, dark coat despite the heat. Murmurs rippled through the crowd, "Alucard is here!" "Alucard will save us from Dracula!"

Unfortunately, as he tried to cross the road to reach the crowd, Alucard was creamed by a passing eighteen wheeler. 

The crowd was disappointed, but when Dan took up Alucard's sword they saw the potential for a new set of saviors in the mothersfuckers. They explained their plight: Dracula's castle has appeared out of nowhere, enwrapping the space shuttle and ruining the local tourist trade. Dracula was taking advantage of the local castle doctrine laws AND sucking the populace dry of blood. 

And now that's the motherfuckers' problem, somehow.

They headed out to Dracula's castle and the drawbridge ominously opened for them. Of course, once they set foot on it it began to raise, drawing them in. In the grand hall, Renfield, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and douchebag sunglasses, appeared on a balcony and began to threaten them. He referred to himself as a crazy fucker who would eat a fly, eat a spider, hell, he would eat their grandma's asses given half a chance. After a while, Renfield retreated into another chamber, but the motherfuckers didn't bite and follow him into an obvious trap.

Instead, they made their way up into a clocktower that was swarming with medusa heads that threatened to knock them off of stairs, platforms, and swinging pendulums. Just like in Castlevania, this was the most challenging encounter in the castle. Dr. MK ULTRA made it to the top first and was able to throw a lever that turned all this ridiculous set piece shit off and sent the medusa heads packing.

Next they encountered Dracula's three skanky brides in a room with a mirrored ceiling (that they couldn't take advantage of because they were vampires) and a massive waterbed. These vampire sluts had been commanded to not let the motherfuckers proceed without a fight, but Dr. MK ULTRA successfully bribed them with pills to let them pass.

But hey, in the next room they had to brawl with the Grim Reaper. They fucked him up pretty handily and some of the mofos even stole some of his spinning scythes as weapon upgrades. It was in this room that Dan realized that the candelabras they had encountered throughout the castle could be knocked over to create a "heart."

Which was potentially useful because one room over they found a shifty, cloak-clad merchant who offered to sell them cool shit like holy water, crosses, a pocket watch, garlic, or a magic whip...and the only currency he would accept was hearts. Unfortunately, they had collected so few hearts up until this point that they didn't have enough to buy anything groovy.

Instead, Sault squandered the few hearts they had on a really shitty Superbowl tip. Seriously, the Bengals? 

Next up they polished off a Frankenstein's monster and took an elevator down to Dracula's throne room. He did the whole "miserable pile of secrets" thing and then attacked! They beat his ass and hid the Bible if God's watchin', but of course Dracula came back for round two in a demonic form. They got stomped a bit but cleaned his clock for a second time.

Of course, as is contractually required, the castle started to shake and collapse, so they hightailed it out of there. Once the castle was gone, all that was left standing proudly was the space shuttle on its launch pad. That's America, baby.

DEMONOID PHENOMENON for PLANET MOTHERFUCKER

Democracy may be dead, but PLANET MOTHERFUCKER is still alive and kicking. Just in time for the Fourth of July, the Only Post-Apocalyptic Game That Matters is back with a new supplement: DEMONOID PHENOMENON.

What will you find in the pages of this bad boy? 

- New character classes! (Alien Pervert, Gunnut, Kung-Fool, Robo Jock)

- New power ups! (A Dracula medallion, a goth girl's leather pants, bad-ass tattoos, and more!)

- New rules (For shit like taking cover, dying, and fear!)

- Adventure seeds (Fight robots in Spaghettysburg! Rescue hung dudes!)

- New Knacks and Mutations! (Including some really gross stuff!)

- More random tables than you can fuckin' handle!

BUY BUY BUY IT'S THE AMERICAN WAY!

Truckstopsylvania

The game group needed to blow off some steam with something dumb and fun, so I ran PLANET MOTHERFUCKER for 'em. Did you know that you can buy PLANET MOTHERFUCKER and its first supplement BLACK SUNSHINE over on Drivethrurpg? Well, now you do. Now you can also be dumb and fun.

Characters

Runa, Church Burner

Chet, Living Dead Hustler

Dr. MK ULTRA, Doctor Feelbad

Dan Smakob, Spooky Scary Skeleton

Events

The characters had all been captured in an ambush. They were stripped of their weapons, handcuffed, and marched onto a repurposed school bus that now read SCHOOL BUS at the top. (They ran out of standard-issue handcuffs, so they had to bind Chet with some pink fuzzy handcuffs.) From the chatter they could overhear from their captors, they were being taken somewhere to be tried for a crime they did not commit: MURDER!

From the bus's windows, they could see that they were entering a compound called Truckstopsylvania, which was a series of gas pumps and trailers arranged around a building with shops and services inside. The characters were brought before the Honorable Judge Abigail Sweetcooter, an elderly woman with some obvious breast enhancement, who was presiding over their "trial." She was quick to pass a guilty verdict and a death sentence for the crime of murdering Truckstopslyvania's mayor, Leon Buttermouth.

At the last minute, the group's court-appointed lawyer came running in and demanded that his clients be offered a Trial by Snoop. Trial by Snoop worked like this: the characters would be strapped into Snoop Suits--aka wetsuits with built-in explosives--and given the opportunity to prove their innocence by snooping around until they found the "real" guilty party. If they weren't able to establish their innocence within six hours, the explosive would detonate, which they were told would be "messy."

Their first order of business was to examine the mayor's corpse, which was still where it was found in his office--which was a defunct Pizza Hut. He had no signs of violent injury, but they did notice that he had two puncture marks on his neck and seemed a little light on blood for a man of his size. Unfortunately, everyone they questioned about the possibility of a vampire on the loose would reply with a variation of "Vampire? Everyone knows they aren't real!"

Searching his pockets turned up some possible leads: a receipt for the convenience store he bought rubbers at, a handful of urinal cakes, a wash cloth wrapped around a bar of Irish Spring, a diner menu with a note that someone had written "I'll see you later, big boy" on it in lipstick, a book of matches from a gentleman's club called Skeezer's, and a key marked "Moon Room."

They decided to hit up the convenience store first. There was a teenage girl reading a copy of Ninja of Fortune magazine behind the counter. Dan poured a blue slushy into his skull and because he was a skeleton it just ran out the bottom of his Snoop Suit, prompting the teenager to have to get the mop and bucket to clean up in aisle three. Dr MK Ultra traded the girl a syringe full of drugs for information. Both the mop and the drugs would become plot points in a little bit--wait for it.

At Skeezer's strip club, they learned that Mayor Buttermouth was a regular and that his favored "girl" was Misty--the club's most elderly stripper. Over at the Truck Nuts Cafe diner, they learned from a gum-poppin' waitress that Mayor Buttermouth's last meal was the steak & eggs--which he always ate when he was expecting to "get lucky." In the shower room, a strapping fellow with an ever-changing accent introduced them to the concept of "Special Sauce"--a combination of Aqua Velva and Old Spice that was purported to be a pussy magnet combination. The mayor had requested the special sauce on the night of his death.

While they were in the shower, the heard a woman screaming down the hall. Following the hollerin', they backtracked to the convenience store, where they found the teenage ninja fan under attack by a vampire who had emerged from the Beer Cave. Runa threw some punches at the vamp, Dan concocted a flamethrower from a lighter and a can of Aqua Net and lit the dude up, but Chet grabbed the mop, broke the head off, and staked the sucker. He dissolved into ash, which means they couldn't pawn the mayor's death off on him. Also, they couldn't get the teen girl to testify as to the existence of vampires because she had taken the drugs Dr. MK Ultra had given her and was now tripping balls so hard that she saw Naruto running backwards into infinity everywhere she looked.

Putting the pieces together, they figured out that since the mayor had a kink for aged women he had probably gotten vampirized by Judge Sweetcooter, who had then tried to pin his death on the motherfuckers as soon as they got hauled before her bench. They revived the mayor with a drop of blood, got confirmation of their theory from him, then burned his ass to a crisp too.

They found the judge in her chambers, where she offered them wine coolers. She declined to drink one herself as she said she "Never drinks wine...coolers." They forced her into calling a town meeting, where they proved she was a vampire by showing that she had to reflection. She jumped through a glass plate window and started running her old ass off toward Dr. MK Ultra's coffin car. She veered off at the last minute and climbed into a big black monster truck instead. 

Runa and the Dr. got in their vehicles because they figured that Judge Sweetcooter was making a run for it, but she had gotten into a monster truck because her plan was to crush the fuck out of them. Both of them found their vehicles getting smacked around by the monster truck. Dan threw his skull at the truck, which did more damage to him than to the truck. Chet managed to climb aboard the monster truck, which gave him a good vantage point to stab the judge with the broken mop.

Chet gouged out the judge's eyes, causing her to aimlessly run amok in the monster truck. Runa jumped her motorcycle onto the back of the monster truck, allowing Chet an easy escape route...which was good because the monster truck was now headed straight toward Truckstopsylvania's gas pumps. They biked off just before the massive fireball consumed the truck and the judge. All that was left was a pair of melted implants.

Their innocence established and the real murderer now brought to justice, the gang were released from the Snoop Suits. Dr. MK Ultra had his car back, but missing from his trunk was his dead gal pal. Where the fuck did she end up? We'll find out someday.

BLACK SUNSHINE

Assuming you don't go blind staring at the eclipse, maybe you've got a second to check out BLACK SUNSHINE, the first supplement for PLANET MOTHERFUCKER. 

(Note: you'll need to have "show me adult content" checked on your Drivethru account for those links to take you where you need to go.) 

What's in BLACK SUNSHINE? It's packed full of the outrageous content you've come to expect from the premier psychoholic post-apocalyptic trash culture rpg:

• New character types to cause mayhem with! Doctor Feelbad, Hoodlum, Looter, Murderist--all total shitheads.
• Rules for vehicular combat and chases!
• Dirtbag NPCs for your scummy characters to pal around with! A drunk bear! A big-breasted alien babe! A fuckin' caveman! And more!
• Seedy adventure seeds! Many involving strip clubs!
• LOOT!!! A Kool-Aid man suit that lets you smash through walls! Russian steroids! A big fuckin' gun! And more!
• Lotsa random tables!
• A FAQ of dubious value!

This shit will put hair on your chest.

And just as a heads up, this is the first of a whole pack of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER supplements coming your way this year. DEMONOID PHENOMENON drops this summer, to be followed by LIVING DEAD GIRL before Halloween. Something called PUSSY LIQUOR might show up and wreck the party at some point too. Put your helmet on, if you know what I mean.

PLANET MOTHERFUCKER NOW ON DRIVETHRURPG

By popular demand, the latest version of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER is now available on Drivethrurpg!

Note: YOU WILL NEED TO HAVE "SHOW ADULT CONTENT" CHECKED TO SEE IT BECAUSE THIS SHIT HAS CONTENT ALL RIGHT.

If you previously bought the zine and would like this pdf version added to your Drivethru account, drop me a line and I'll hook you up.

More news: PLANET MOTHERFUCKER will be getting three supplements in 2024. They're already written, baby. Expect new character classes, lots more monsters and bad guys, adventure seeds, and more questionable humor than you can stand. This shit is for the sickos, so watch this space.

Of course, what that means is that you want to buy the main PLANET MOTHERFUCKER pdf right now so you're all oiled up and juicy for when the add-ons drop.

The Murder Maze of the Soska Sisters

I ran PLANET MOTHERFUCKER last Friday, devising a quickie adventure that is basically a love-letter to the Soska Sisters. I think I did a good job capturing the cackle they used on Hellevator.

The Characters

Runa Ravensbane, Church Burner who poses as a Scandinavian black metaller, but is secretly Sicilian

The Leather Corinthian, Living Dead Hustler, who is like Lux Interior if he were "Sears Catalogue Decadent"

Dr. MK ULTRA, Doctor Feelsbad, a walking drug lab who has trouble pushing his Purple Haze

Y3N, Unnatural Symbiote with a big toothy worm inside of them

Sault Voi Vittu, Vermin Lord from the Upper Peninsula with an army of frogs

Events

The motherfuckers were all rollin' down the road when they heard this ad spot come on the radio:

Tonight, one night only, at the STRIKEZONE!, Tomahawk Johnny & the Savages (cut to a track that sounds like a cross between Link Wray and Ennio Morricone). Come on down to the STRIKEZONE! To hear the thrilling Tomahawk Johnny & the Savages. And that’s not all at the STRIKEZONE! We’ve got jalapeno poppers and two-dollar shooters all night long. Only at the STRIKEZONE! That’s the STRIKE ZONE!, exit 10 off route 81. 

Since you don't pass up the opportunity to see Tomahawk Johnny & the Savages, they pulled in to the STRIKEZONE! The STRIKEZONE! was a sports bar decorated in wall to wall baseball memorabilia (posters, baseball cards, signed balls & bats, jerseys, shit like that); the seats of the stools were upholstered to look like baseballs and CRTS mounted around the bar were playing VHS tapes of old World Series games. However, the stage was conspicuously empty and the crowd was growing restless.

The group were approached by SLUGGER, an older, paunchy man chewing Big League Chew who used a dented aluminum bat as a cane. SLUGGER was the owner of the STRIKEZONE! and he had a problem; he approached the group explained:

"Huddle up with me in the clubhouse. We got us a problem. It’s the bottom of the ninth, bases are loaded, and we can’t find the MVPs. Tomahawk Johnny & the Savages shoulda been here by now! They shoulda done a soundcheck an hour ago.  Look at those bleachers. The fans are getting restless. Now, you folks look like just the All Stars we need to step up and find Tomahawk Johnny and the boys, bring em here, and win this one for the Gipper! Whatdaya say? There’s a signing bonus for ya if you can hit this one out of the park!"

The motherfuckers agreed to find the band and bring Tomahawk Johnny & the Savages back to the STRIKEZONE! in return for cash, free shots, and free jalapeno poppers.

The group decided to head back out on the road in the direction the band would have been coming from. They discovered the band's 70s Dodge Tradesmen veered off the side of the road in a ditch. There was no sign of a struggle, but from the tracks it did look like someone laid a trap that forced the van to skid into the ditch. Inside the van, they found a bucket of turkey legs from Madame Turkeyleg’s House of "Bird Meat." The art on the bucket showed a cartoon turkey in a Marie Antoinette wig having its leg cut off in a guillotine. The also found a crumpled up piece of paper with a phone number written on it: 867-5309.

The group decided to look for a payphone to try the number, and it turned out that the nearest one was outside Madame Turkeyleg's House of "Bird Meat." Dr. MK ULTRA called the number, and got an angry guy on the line who said, "You lookin’ for Jenny? Then you’re looking for trouble! I’ll kick your ass, man!"

Inside, one of the two pimply teenage boys working at the joint was mopping blood off the tile floor while the other waited to take orders behind the counter. Both kids were dressed as French revolutionaries, as that was the company uniform at Madame Turkeyleg's. The boys confirmed that the band had stopped in to buy a bucket of turkey legs and use the restroom. The restroom was searched for clues, and the motherfuckers found a fanny pack that a band member had left behind. Inside the found condoms, a baggy of weed, and a receipt for gassing up the van.

However, before they could ask the kids working the counter for directions to the gas station, Madame Turkeyleg's was attacked by a roving gang of French aristocrats, complete with powdered wigs and stupid makeup. Both of the teenage employees were wasted by gunfire, but the motherfuckers fought back. Runa exploded a bunch of their heads and they rest were dealt with in a similarly violent fashion.

After the carnage, they found the gas station. Inside were two identical twin sisters, dressed a bit like horror hostesses. When the motherfuckers asked a few too many probing questions, one of the sisters pulled a lever behind the counter that caused the floor to open like a trapdoor, dumping the group down into the depths below. The chamber they fell into was filled with machine-generated fog. They also noticed that there were video cameras mounted toward the ceiling, documenting their every movie.

The horrible truth: the gas station owners were the Soska Sisters. They had constructed a murder maze beneath the gas station and were luring victims into it so they could tape what happened to them as a way of recreating their glory days of Hellevator! And now the motherfuckers were caught in their tangled web! Fuckin' shit!

Following a strange orange glow brought them through a doorway done up to look like a giant demonic mouth. Inside were two doors: they could choose to enter The Lair of the Boiler Room Bastard or The Camp Minnetonka Massacre. The Soska Sisters provided commentary over the murder maze's PA system--which the mofos found extremely annoying. 

Anyway, they opted for the Camp Minnetonka Massacre. As they entered, the Soska Sisters narrated "Witness the horrors of the Camp Minnetonka Massacre, a Christian summer camp where the uptight counselors were picked off one by one by a masked killer before their season even began! Be careful if you meet the Minnetonka Mauler–there’s a dreadful secret behind the killer’s mask! Ahahahaha!" over the PA. Inside a sleepaway camp cabin, the motherfuckers interrupted a robot dressed like a masked killer in the act of butchering a topless nubile. In the fight that ensued, they downed the killer, but in true slasher fashion it got up and attacked them again when they took their eyes off it for a sec. On the plus side, they found Billy, the bass player for the Savages, hiding in a canoe.

The next room they chose to tackle was The Gunderson House, a Texas Chain Saw-style hellbilly hangout. The voiceover: "The Gunderson’s never let a guest go hungry–even if it meant feeding them their own friends and family. There’s something piping hot in the oven, better eat up before the Gunderson’s come in. They like to see a clean plate! Ahahahahaha!" Inside the house, they were confronted with an oven full of meat pies of dubious provenance. They ate them, and survived to tell the tale!

Next, they choose to enter a scenario called The Dark Angel of Riverside Hospital: "Riverside Hospital–people were sent there to get well, but many of them GOT DEAD instead! Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease! They never did find out which nurse was offing the patients. Ahahahahahaha!" This one was pretty simple: they brawled their way through hospital corridors full of murder nurses in American Mary aprons and did their best to avoid their bone saws. Y3N did get stabbed up at the door leading out, though.

They found the rest of the bandmates tied up in a storage closet. Annoyingly, the band saw Billy as their savior, giving the mofos no credit. Ingrates! Everyone exited through the murder maze's gift shop, which sold action figures of the animatronic killers they encountered and t-shirts that said "I survived the Soska Sister's Murder Maze and All I Got Was this Stupid T-Shirt." By this point, they badly wanted to tangle with the sisters, but they discovered that they had run off with the tapes of the motherfuckers' trek through the maze.

Even worse: they had stolen Dr. MK ULTRA's car. And since the doctor had a woman's corpse in the boot, the Soska Sisters were now in possession of a DEAD HOOKER IN A TRUNK.

Death at the Drive In

Once I got back from vacation, I put the call out on my Discord that I could run a PLANET MOTHERFUCKER adventure if anybody was interested. I got a bunch of interested replies, so one afternoon in a Taco Bell I sketched out an adventure and then ran it later that night. You may note a heavy dose of inspiration from Joe R. Lansdale's The Drive In, which I had just finished reading. Anyway, if you want this kind of fun in your life, head on over to the Dolorous Exhumation Press site and pick up a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER.

Here's what went down in our game:

The Characters

Runa Ravensbane, heavily tattooed metal babe (Church Burner)

Remington Chadsworth IV, a goon from a long line of goons (Face-Breaking Goon)

Chet, a vampire who looks suspiciously like the Naked Cowboy (Living Dead Hustler)

Fat Elvis, exactly what he sounds like; has a feral child companion named Marsha Marsha Marsha (Wastelander)

Events

After their experience in Spaghettysburg, the motherfuckers were heading southwest in the General Lee. Along the way, they lost Dr MK Ultra, Toffy Jones, and Juice Pouch, but they picked up a hitchhiking Remington Chadsworth IV. They were doing fine on fuel for the car, but finding food was becoming an issue. But then they saw a sign for Cosmic Al's Far Out Drive In. Figuring that a drive-in theater would at least have a concession stand, they decided to pull off the highway in search of some grub.

A fat guy wearing a shirt decorated with rocket ships and planets, and wearing an alien Halloween mask over his face, was sitting by the entrance gate reading a sci-fi paperback titled Samson of Mars. He turned out to be Cosmic Al. He informed them that the drive in had three screens; one was running Prom Night, another The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, and the third...Bambi. They paid for tickets and decided to drive up to the screen that Prom Night would be playing on. (Runa was disappointed that it wasn't Prom Night II.)

There were already some cars parked in the lot facing the screen for Prom Night: there was a Miami Vice-lookin' douchebag talking on his car phone in a yellow Porche, two unoccupied pink Vespa scooters, a guy in a cowboy hat smoking a Lucky Strike in front of a beat-up truck (the nametag on his gas station shirt read "Corncob"), and a van with a big circle A on the side with loud, shitty punk rock coming out of it. 

The motherfuckers parked and made their way to the concession stand, where a teenage girl in a plastic "Indian Princess" Halloween mask was taking the orders of two bikini babes. When it was their turn, the motherfuckers loaded up on hamburgers, hotdogs, popcorn, and sodas. They started to eat back at the General Lee and the trailers began playing before the feature. 

Just then one of the bikini girls cried out "What's that!" and pointed to the sky. Everybody saw a big flaming rock streak through the sky and begin hovering above the drive in. It even popped open some eyes and a mouth and started laughing maniacally! As it streaked off, a wall of strange, hazy smoke rose from the ground, encircling the drive in. The motherfuckers jumped in the General Lee, hoping to find clear passage back at the gate, but no dice--the smoke had them walled in.

The motherfuckers drove back up to the concession stand where they found everybody near the edge of panic. (The punk rockers had even left their van; Fat Elvis nicknamed them "Sid and Acne.") The big flaming rock returned. Most folks kept their cool, but a few people lost their shit. The guy in the Miami Vice-lookin' suit got in Chet's face, blaming the group for the comet-thing's appearance since they were clearly "weirdos." Chet responded by ripping his finger off. He ran away, his mangled hand spouting blood. Sid and Acne decided to try to drive through the smoke in their van. Everyone present heard the result: the sound of the van's metal body being peeled open like a tin can, and then screams of agony.

The motherfuckers decided it was high time to interrogate Cosmic Al about the nature of his business here. They first questioned Shoshana, the girl in the Indian Princess mask, but she didn't tell them much. She thought that Cosmic Al was just an incompetent nerd who was too into sci-fi shit. They also paid her to take her mask off to prove that there was nothing weird going on underneath, but she was just a teen girl. She explained that the masks were simply "part of the uniform" for working at Cosmic Al's.

She did, however, point them to a small cinderblock building that served as Cosmic Al's "box office." The door to the box office was locked, and through the window they could see that the walls were covered with gore horror, grindhouse, and exploitation movie posters--but Cosmic Al was nowhere to be seen. Remington smashed the window with his barbed wire-wrapped baseball bat, and Marsha Marsha Marsha, Fat Elvis's feral child sidekick, jumped inside to scout out the situation. A voice from under the desk told them to go away; Cosmic Al was cowering in fear. In fact, Cosmic Al had pissed himself in terror and asked them to go to the other concession stand, get an American flag from in back, and bring it to him so he could fashion it into a makeshift diaper.

On the way to the other concession stand, the group decided to check out who was gathered in the lot in front of the Bambi screening. One vehicle was occupied by a newlywed couple who were busy getting busy in the backseat. They were entirely unaware that they were trapped in the drive in. The other vehicle in the lot was a van with JESUS SAVES painted on the side. Taking offence to this blatant display of Christianity, Runa slashed the van's tires. The family's patriarch saw what she had done and slapped Runa across the face. At this point a horrific and murderous brawl broke out.

The mother ran to the van to get a shotgun, but Remington smashed her up pretty badly with his baseball bat; the woman fled, terrified by the gore that clung to Remington's instrument of death. The children, who were all blonde-haired little Village of the Damned-lookin' gremlins, swarmed Chet and were biting the shit out of him. Fat Elvis looked on in horror, unwilling to take part in this particular atrocity. Runa squared off against the family's father, unsheathing her ritual dagger and stabbing the man several times. 

Heavily wounded, the man tried to make a run for a weird hill the motherfuckers had noticed earlier. Runa climbed the hill after him and managed to stab him in the back. She noticed that it felt like her dagger hit something hard as it exited his body. She flipped him over and started digging into the hill. She discovered that underneath the soil were human bones and what looked to be Native American artifacts. The drive in had been built on ancient Indian burial ground!!!

At the other concession stand, they found a teen wearing a werewolf mask manning the register. They explained Cosmic Al's situation and got the soon-to-be-defiled Old Glory that Al requested. And then, the flaming rock creature reappeared! The sky cracked with thunder and lightning. A bolt struck the kid in the wolfman mask; he leapt out of the concession stand, ripped his werewolf mask off, and revealed that he had been transformed into an actual werewolf!

The motherfuckers made a run for it toward the other concession stand. Corncob was there, and he drew a knife from his cowboy boot. Soshanna looked...distinctly calm about the whole situation. The two bikini girls freaked out and began to argue about whether this was all God's judgment or the work of the Devil. Eventually, the blonde bikini girl knocked the redhead to the ground and tore out her throat with her teeth. Meanwhile, the motherfuckers were joined by Corncob in fighting off the werewolf. The wolfman knocked Fat Elvis prone, then leapt fangs-first at Remington--but the motherfuckers were eventually triumphant. 

In the conversation that followed with Shoshana, the group learned that she knew all along that Cosmic Al had built the drive in atop sacred Native burial grounds. In fact, that's why she took the job at the drive in--all of this was her doing! She was of Native descent herself and had conjured the meteor thing to trap everyone at the movies, to be killed off one by one, as a way of reclaiming the land. Now that the jig was up, she pulled out a tomahawk and prepared to kill the motherfuckers.

Now, the motherfuckers are generally bad people. I mean, they killed a family with very little provocation like half an hour ago. But they drew the line at racism and defiling Native lands. They were especially offended that Cosmic Al had made his only Native employee wear an Indian Princess mask. They explained this to Shoshana, and her position toward them softened. As long as they weren't going to try to stop her, she offered to tell them about a way out of the drive in. She told them to go into the walk-in freezer in the concession stand, move aside the box of Otter Pops, enter the tunnel beneath and follow it to exit the drive in via an underground passage. 

Before they left, they got to see the meteor-thing conjure Leatherface from the screen showing Texas Chain Saw Massacre and watch as Leatherface murdered Cosmic Al. Everyone else was left to death at the hands of Shoshana. Fat Elvis considered not leaving the drive in, but eventually gave in. He probably realized someone other than the rest of the group should be in charge of raising Marsha Marsha Marsha.

The group hid out for a few days, then returned to the drive in once the smoke surrounding it had dispersed. Everyone was dead and Shoshana was gone. They reclaimed the General Lee and looted the remaining cars, netting a bunch of cash, a lucky rabbit's foot, a workout book written by Charles Atlas, a big box of extra-splintery chopsticks, and a box of limited edition Jim Jones Kool-Aid.

PLANET MOTHERFUCKER PDF-Only Edition Now Available!

Now that PLANET MOTHERFUCKER has sold through most of the initial print run, I'm putting up the pdf for sale on its lonesome. Roll up and get a copy! This should make life easier for people who want a copy, but found it too expensive to ship it to ya wherever you call home. It's also a boon for you digital-only cheapskates. 

Just kiddin', I love each and every one of you.

There are still copies of the printed zine available, and frankly they're a better deal because I like making physical things. You can still grab it here, while supplies last and all that.

What's next for PLANET MOTHERFUCKER? I've got two supplements done in draft form, so when those get their chrome polished I'll put them out too. More horrible shit for your horrible games!

After the Thunderkiss

As promised in a prior post, I'm going to give you a wastelander's tour of America in the world of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER. If you like the sound of this shithole, buy a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER today! Seriously, if you've been thinking about it you should know that postage rates are getting hiked by the post office in a few weeks and I'm down to about twenty copies left.

Anyway:

After the Thunderkiss

Before we get into the nitty-gritty of how the game works, I want to tell you about the shithole where this all goes down: the weird wasteland of post-Thunderkiss America. 

Puritania

New England is now a theocracy ruled by religious zealots with funny black hats and buckle shoes. The capital of the theocracy is New Salem, where the Court of Oyster and Terminator governs. Covens of satanic, folk horror witches live in the deep woods surrounding Puritania’s cities, villages, and towns—they fight against the oppressive regime of the Puritanians with hellfire, sorcery, and old-fashioned witchy know-how. 

New Amsterdamned

Like a syphilitic phoenix rising from the ashes of a meth lab fire, NYC has been reborn as New Amsterdamned. New Amsterdamned is governed by a coterie of vampires led by the vile nosferatu known as Rudy Ghouliani. The ruling class of vampires largely concern themselves with siphoning blood and taxes out of the city’s still-living populace. They certainly do nothing to curb the violence and gang warfare that dominates the streets of New Amsterdamned. Hell, they don’t even keep the streets paved.

The Dirty South

Southern culture truly is on the skids, my friend. In the former Southern US, the wealthy have sequestered themselves away in old plantation houses that have been turned into fortified compounds. In the backwoods, inbred hellbillies hunt their fellow human beings and feast on their succulent flesh! 

If you want to start a rumble in the Dirty South, loudly proclaim that another region’s BBQ sauce is better than the sauce made where you’re currently standing.

Swamplandia

The Florida panhandle is now a feral wetlands known as Swamplandia. You know those lizard people that David Icke is always talking about? The ones who wear human guises and secretly rule the world? Well, they actually do rule Swamplandia. They got mosquitoes the size of horses down there, I swear.

Gnawlins

Go west across the Gulf of Mexico and you hit the City of Gnawlins. Surrounded by bayous filled with mutant alligators, Gnawlins is the domain of voodoo queens, Cajuns, and frilly-shirt wearin’ goth vampires with names like Lestat and Maurice. 

Tex-Arcana

A little further west and you hit the territory of Tex-Arcana, where spell-slinging cowboys patrol the wild frontier and protect the interests of oil barons, bullet barons, and beer barons. Ten gallon hats, tin badges, spurs and chaps, the works. All my exes cast hexes in Texas—that’s why I hang my hat in Tennessee.

Flypaper Country

As a setting, PLANET MOTHERFUCKER takes the same view as its author toward the middle of the country: who gives a shit? It’s probably a wasteland filled with warring barbarians tribes, cornfed dames, or raging Karen drag-racing soccer vans or something. Maybe the Midwest is infested with zombies, but then again, if it was—would we be able to tell the difference? 

Destroit

Okay, one thing about the Midwest worth mentioning: although it’s basically hell on earth, a Rustbelt nightmare, and generally post-apocalyptic, the city of Destroit is still the place to go to get auto parts or a sweetnew ride. Nobody does it better than Destroit. You know all those factories in movies like Terminator that are just filled with open pits of fire and molten slag? Yeah, Destroit is like that.

Sin City

Once known as Las Vegas, Sin City remains a hotbed of vice and depravity. Play the slots, wake up with a raging hangover, and pawn everything you own of value at one of the many rip-off joints on the Strip. Visit a brothel, wake up missing a kidney. See a show, wake up puking your guts out after gorging at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Beneath the glitz, glam, and neon beats the black heart of American capitalism: feed your desires, try to beat the odds, and have nothing to show for it in the end. 

Pornheim

The city formerly known as Los Angeles is now Pornheim, a bastion of the skin flick industry. The city is governed by a council of “adult entertainers” and their shithead, narcissistic hangers-on. Everything is showbiz and exploitation out there, but underneath the Teflon coating of tan skin and blindingly white smiles lurks some really dark shit. Hell, the people of Pornheim are so medically modified they practically count as cyborgs.

San Freakcisco Bay Area

The San Freakcisco Bay Area is a hot spot of scientific innovation. If an outbreak of technological horrors—murderous robots, a man-made plague, or AI cars out to run down pedestrians—were to occur, dollars to donuts that some pencil-necked geek in the SFBA is to blame for it. The City of San Freakcisco is also a party town, rich in rainbow pageantry. Slay, Queen!

The Militialands

Washington and Oregon are now heavily forested—the primeval woods seems to have erupted to reclaim the land from the trespasses of human civilization. The Militialands have earned their name because the area is dotted with strongholds belonging to militias, paramilitary groups, and extremist cults. They’d be a real danger to the world at large if they could stop fighting against each other in endless bouts of zero-sum warfare, but these well-armed morons are too stupid to get their shit together.

The Monster isles

The volcanoes of Hawaii have erupted, awakening long-slumbering kaiju who now roam the islands and do battle with each other. Daredevils continue to brave the obvious dangers of the Monster Isles just for the chance to catch the perfect wave. Surf’s up, dude!

North, South, and the Rest of the World

The frozen northern realm of Canadia is home to wendigo, moose-riding Mounties, ambulatory poutine, and the underground trade in maple syrup.

Past the southern border, you’ve got luchadors battling drug cartels, donkey shows, and desperate folks who worship Santa Muerte. ¡Ay, caramba!

As for the world at large? Beats me. Make up something cool if it comes up in your game.

The Battle of Spaghettysburg

I ran a game of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER last Friday. You know what I love about this game? I've never gotten as much laughter out of any other game. And it's not just my stupid gags that hit; everybody gets into the big dumb mood of the thing and shit just gets ridiculous. Love it.

Want to have this kind of fun? Buy a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER today!

Here's what went down in our game:

The Characters

Runa Ravensbane, heavily tattooed metal babe (Church Burner)

Dr. MK Ultra, rogue physician prone to experimenting on himself (Doctor Feelbad)

Chet, a vampire who looks suspiciously like the Naked Cowboy (Living Dead Hustler)

Fat Elvis, exactly what he sounds like; has a feral child companion named Marsha Marsha Marsha (Wastelander)

Events

The character were all down on their luck, working at a crappy Civil War-themed Italian restaurant named Spaghettysburg. Spaghettysburg was located within the walls of Civil War World, a theme part filled with animatronics dubiously re-enacting the events of the American Civil War. Runa was working as a line cook, surrounded by pots of simmering sauce. Chet was the dishwasher, stacking plates. Dr. MK Ultra stood behind the bar, wiping down glasses. Fat Elvis was stationed as the bathroom attendant, replacing urinal cakes. Marsha Marsha Marsha was the waitress--an egregious violation of child labor laws.

And then the lights went out.

Plunged into darkness, the group could hear gunfire and the screams of theme park guests. Chet peeked his head out of the front door and confirmed everyone's worst fear: the Confederate and Union robots had gone berserk and were executing everyone at Civil War World!

(While the lights were out, Fat Elvis emptied the till of cash, Dr MK stole a bunch of booze and cleaning supplies, and Runa grabbed a bottle of Finlandia vodka.)

The group decided that Spaghettysburg was no longer safe, so they got a move on to try to find a way out of Civil War World. They decided to exit the restaurant out the back. They saw two robots, one Union soldier and one Confederate, moving toward them. They attempted to sneak behind a shooting gallery, but Dr MK Ultra was spotted and the robots opened fire with their rifles. Fat Elvis nailed one with his submachine gun and Runa let lose a scream that exploded the head of the other.

While fighting the "robots" the group noticed a strange thing: despite being told that the animatronics were just lifelike, state of the art robots, they bled when wounded. Chet tasted their blood; as a vampire he could tell that it was genuine human blood, but not fresh. They put two and two together and realized that the park was using corpses as the basis for its "robot reenactors"!

Continuing to sneak behind buildings to find a way out, they next encountered the ominously titled Andersonville Prison Petting Zoo. Expecting that there were animals in need of setting free inside the petting zoo, the group entered...and saw some truly horrifying things. In this park exhibit, the meat-based robots were behind bars and being used to illustrate the horrors of Civil War era prisons; some had dysentery, some had typhoid fever, and all were desperate and starving. Although the "exhibits" pleaded to be set free, the group determined that they couldn't be trusted. Instead, they put them all out of their misery and left.

There was some loot dropped by fleeing visitors in the prison at least: a backpack full of Homies, a couple bucks, and an unused pregnancy test.

As they crept around the back of the park, the group saw that the roller coaster was still operating...all of the cars were full of dead people, except one fat kid who was busy vomiting on himself. The group took pity on him and shut the roller coaster down. They cleaned him up and renamed him Juice Pouch. He was happy to take the new name as his parents had named him Dickbert, so this was a step up in his opinion.

While they were dealing with Juice Pouch, the group were accosted by a gaggle of meat-robot Southern belles. Chet turned on the Southern Charm and talked them into going to wait for him by the Assassination of President Lincoln exhibit.

With the belles out of the way, the group made a bee-line for the General Lee exhibit, not sure if it was going to be about the soldier or the car. Thankfully, the car was on display. Chet slid into the driver's seat and everyone else piled in. No keys! But flipping down the visor revealed 'em. The group began to burn rubber toward the main entrance and ticket-taking booths, planning to ram their way to freedom. 

However, as they sped past several exhibits, they saw a young woman with an afro pinned down behind the counter of a souvenir shop as Union and Confederate soldiers fired on her. Unwilling to leave her to die, Chet pulled a quick U-turn. The back end of the General Lee clipped a costume depot, sending bits and bobs cascading out of the building. Chet rammed the meat-robot soldiers, mowing them down handily, while Fat Elvis fired his submachine gun.

Now safe, the woman in the gift shop introduced herself as Toffy. Chet insisted that Juice Pouch and Marsha Marsha Marsha get to pick out souvenirs from the ruins of the gift shop. A couple of the others grabbed kitschy t-shirts as well. Toffy pointed out that a meat-robot with a sniper rifle had just exited the Assassination of President Lincoln exhibit. This robot stuck out like a sore thumb: instead of wearing historical attire, he was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. The group realized that this meat-robot was made up to look like Lee Harvey Oswald because whoever was in charge of the assassination exhibit had confused him with John Wilkes Booth. 

Three-part names, both presidential assassins...easy enough mistake, right? Anyway, Lee Harvey Oswald assumed a shooting stance, yelled "Sic semper tyrannis!," and opened fire. 

Chaos ensued! Dr MK Ultra used the cleaning supplies and booze he had stolen from Spaghettysburg to craft some Molotov cocktails. Runa began screaming an ear-piercing Valkyrie wail o' death. Unfortunately, the Lee Harvey bot was soon joined by the Southern belles, who had grown bored of waiting for Chet. One of the belles dealt Runa a vicious blow with her parasol, so she switched to her ritual dagger and began carving up Lady Antebellum. Dr MK Ultra's Molotovs were doing work, lighting up belles left and right. Ultimately, Lee Harvey was put down with a combination of machine gun fire and lead pipe to the head.

When the dust settled, Fat Elvis examined the costumes that had spilled out of the annex and found a Kool-Aid Man suit. Putting it on, he was filled with confidence that he could now burst through any wall. Fat Elvis ran full tilt at the park's iron gate and managed to break on through to the other side. Everyone else plowed through the hole in the General Lee, ecstatic to escape from Civil War World at last.

PMF May Contain Horribly Sexist Phrases like "Sorority Babes" and "Cat Women"

PLANET MOTHERFUCKER ruffled some feathers over on the official MORK BORG discord. Don't get me wrong, I also got to talk to some cool people over there too, but I seemed to strike a nerve with a few scolds who really needed to let me know that the game is bad and wrong. 

PMF has a history of rustling jimmies. A writer at Bleeding Cool got some heat from their editor when they did an article on it years ago. Someone else was asked to change the name to PLANET MELONFARMER when they ran it at a convention. Aaron Zirkelbach, editor on an edition of Swords & Wizardry, wrote me an email comparing the first edition of PMF to a shit he took, but declined to let me post the content of his message on my blog because he was afraid of how people would react if they could see his behavior firsthand. 

This time the kerfuffle started when I posted the following work in progress: a random table for generating a b movie title that would also serve as the inspiration for writing a PLANET MOTHERFUCKER adventure:

A few things on this table were objected to by a handful of denizens of the MORK BORG discord: "Sorority Babes" was judged to be a horribly sexist phrase, as was "Cat Women" (???). "Of the SS" caused offence. I was informed that "old" works, such as b movies and Big Trouble in Little China, were inherently "problematic." 

The grumpiest objector provided some "helpful" revision suggestions:

Anonymized because I don't support harassment or dogpiling even if someone is being a rube. People who have a problem with me never seem to do this.

I have a couple notes on the above:

1) "Just to give you food for thought" is an amazing dork-ass version of "I'd like to speak to the manager." I used to think letting this stuff roll off my back was the way to go, but we're living in an era where someone with a grudge got C. Derick Miller fired from his job for writing a "gross" novel, people tried to paint Gretchen Felker-Martin as a criminal over Manhunt, and somebody called Andrew F. Sullivan an "eco-fascist" due to the ecological themes in his latest novel. And I won't ever forget what "concerned citizens" did to Isabel Fall. Now it feels like you have to push back against all the little self-appointed moral guardians, even in extremely minor cases like this one.

2) Each of those suggested changes fuckin' blows. Absolute dogshit, baby-brained stuff. Trade the flavorful "Sorority Babes" for the vanilla-ass "Cultists"? You've got to be kidding me. Look to WotC or Paizo if you want pure milquetoast. 

Also, what's up with changing "Of the SS"? Clearly "Of the SS" is meant to describe the bad guys of the scenario--if you think we should never depict real-world villainy, I don't know what to tell you. Inglorious Basterds is worth seeing just to watch fascists die horribly. Fuck Nazis. I can't be any more clear than that.

3) I'm fine with the game not being for everyone, but come on, PMF does not hide what it brings to the table. The game has the word "Motherfucker" in the title. The cover has a woman in a bikini straddling a fuckin' missile. PLANET MOFO does not engage in subterfuge or subtly. 

The thing that surprised me is that this pushback was coming from a segment of the MORK BORG community, but as a friend pointed out, it shouldn't have. As she noted, despite the elements of grimdark misery and pretenses to brutal violence, MORK BORG does seem a little "smooth down there," if you know what she means. It's all Thanatos, no Eros. 

The attitude looks like this: Violence? Yes. Depicting a misery-laden apocalypse? A-OK. Drugs and Satan? Sure. Alluding to sex as either the intimate act or biology? Hold up, you can't do that! I'm not even talking about role-playing sex scenes--do what you want at your own table, I'd rather not with my pals, and PMF doesn't ask you to do this--I'm talking about the game noticing that sex is a thing that exists and has a ton of cultural baggage attached to it.

It's a stance I see a lot of nerds adopt these days. Ironically, despite the blasphemy that MORK BORG often revels in, some of the game's fans assume a stance that is essentially and deeply Protestant. By which I mean: ambivalent about depictions of violence, horrified by any mention of sexuality, full of hypocritical pieties, giddy at the prospect of castigating others, and steadfast in the belief that their preferences carry moral weight.

While this handful of pearl-clutching fellas (and they all appear to be guys, according to their bios) perform their sensitivity to each other for approving reaction emotes and generally speak for women instead of to them, I'm over here busy packaging up copies of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER to send to the women who bought the thing. 

Food for thought, innit?

To state things bluntly: PLANET MOTHERFUCKER is an exaggeration of all the weird violent and libidinal shit that lurks in the dank bargain basement of the American Dream. It's a tongue-in-cheek critique through the lens of b movies, trash culture, shlock, and outrageousness. It's a fun excuse to gather at the gaming table with people who aren't shitheads and get loose with the dark side of America's atomic levels of ridiculousness. Uptight Good Boys are less likely to get that because part of what the game has in its crosshairs is them. 

Find out what all the fuss is about: buy a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER today! This is a game by and for sickos. Squares and goons need not apply.

Shticky Fingers

Now that PLANET MOTHERFUCKER is out, I can talk a bit about some of the design choices I made with it. This post is going to be about the game's "Shticks"--basically the available character classes in PLANET MOTHERFUCKER.

The PMF zine presents seven Shticks. I've copy-pasted the flavor text from the zine in italics, then followed it with a commentary chaser. Here's mud in your eye.

CHURCH BURNER

You are a heathen devotee of extreme metal, empowered by the Metal Gods to go forth and wreak havoc on this blighted world.

Church Burners are basically the bards of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER, but true to the game's ethos they aren't about bolstering their friends by singing songs of great triumphs. Instead, they're extreme metal fanatics who bring extremely bad vibes.

FACE-BREAKING GOON

You are a brute shaped by a lifetime of downtrodden struggle, bad luck, and hard times. Everything looks like a nail to you because you are a human-shaped hammer.

Face-Breaking Goons are designed to be simple to play; if "fighter" is the default choice in D&D, Face-Breaking Goons fill that role in PLANET MOTHERFUCKER. When you play a Face-Breaking Goon, your gameplan is pretty straightforward: approach every problem as something that can be solved with violence. It'll probably work.

HELLFIRE PREACHER

Whether a born-again holy roller, a gun-toting nun delivering fire-and-brimstone sermons, or an apocalyptic cultist, you have been chosen to spread the “Bad News” of what’s to come.

Hellfire Preachers resemble PLANET MOTHERFUCKER's clerics, but they aren't relegated to the "healer" role by design. Since your starting ability is determined randomly, your Hellfire Preacher might having some divine healing, but you're just as likely to get kick-ass martial arts depending on how the dice land.

LIVING DEAD HUSTLER

You used to be alive, then you were dead, now you’re somewhere in-between. You might be a zombie prostitute, a ghoulboy stripper, a Frankenhooker, or a vampire go-go dancer.

Living Dead Hustlers are built for resilience. Being undead has some perks; you're probably really hard to put back in the grave. One of the neat things in some of their abilities is the temptation to court death because you get some bonuses when your "hit points" aren't topped off.

SATANIC WITCH

You have made a pact with Satan and have been granted the eldritch secrets of the blackest magic. Hail, Satan!

Satanic Witches are the wizards and warlocks of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER, but their shit isn't all tied to spells spells spells. And, of course, their abilities are explicitly black magic--no "white" witchery here, my friend. This was the Shtick I probably had the most fun working on.

SCUMBAG

You are a thief, a sneak, a liar, and a cheat. And probably worse, if you were honest with yourself about how big a scumbag you are. But you’ve never been honest with nobody. So why start now?

Fuck your noble rogue with a heart of gold! Scumbags are what rpg rogues should be: morally compromised dirtbags on the make. Imagine if Han Solo had a meth problem and never came back to help the Alliance and you're on the right track with these shitbirds.

WASTELANDER

You are a road warrior, an amazonian barbarian, a badlands marauder, a high plains grifter, a monster hunter, or some other kind of shithead who travels the wastes looking for trouble.

Wastelanders are closest to D&D's rangers, I guess, but they're actually fun to play. Lots of unique shit in their abilities list: bitchin' motorcycle, feral kid sidekick, big fuckin' shotgun, etc. There's even a bit of Conan baked in as a possibility if the dice decide to hand you a big freakin' sword. This shtick probably has the widest range of interpretations.

Sound good? Buy a copy of PLANET MOTHERFUCKER and let the good times roll. I've got less than half the print run left, so don't be a slow-ass about it.