Blades '68: Gutter Journalism
Sunset tackle the issue of tabloid journalism as directly as they know how.
Preamble & GM Notes
When we left off the crew had picked up a job to liquidate a journalist for the notorious Ink Lane Tabloids. This faction doesn’t get a full spread in the playtest materials because it’s actually a group of individual newspapers. Fortunately there is a wealth of real life information one can draw on to build a really scummy newspaper office.
Here is the profile I knocked together for them, in case you want to use this in your own game (I can’t say I’d recommend it, the book itself is coming out… soon). I’ve left Allies and Enemies mostly empty because I haven’t revealed any other relevant factions yet.
News of the Void (II):
Blurb: The largest single newspaper printed on Ink Lane, known for breaking stories on celebrity scandal, Imperial intrigue, and exploitative “page three” picture spreads. The lowest common denominator of the press, who will stop at nothing for a racy scoop.
Turf: A large office on Ink Lane. Satellite offices in each District.
NPCs: Elmsley (Editor, mercenary, rotund, uncouth), Skelton (Paparazzo, manipulative, slim, ambitious), Somerfield (Chief reporter, conflicted, analytic, friendly)
Notable Assets: Several branded autovans. Advanced phone and RF hacking equipment. Bribed informants in the upper strata of Duskwall society.
Quirks: The paper has blackmail information on several key figures in the Imperial administration that they use to ward off Bluecoat interference.
Allies: The Keel Twins
Enemies: The Bluecoats
Situation: News of the Void is the target of several lawsuits brought by celebrities across Duskwall and the wider Imperium accusing journalists of thefts, wiretapping, and intimidation; the paper is going after each accuser individually to discover or fabricate scandals to force them to back off.
Clocks: Break a major scandal story (Repeating): 8
Gimme The Dirt (Prestige Ability): Call a reporter from the News of the Void (via flashback or otherwise) and they will give you the dirt (usually blackmail material) on a target, or if they’re clean they’ll deliver you some high-quality tracking equipment. After the score roll two dice (instead of one) to see if they want you to return the favour.
The Approach is chosen to be deception with a quiet loadout, the entry point will be revealed in fiction.
Also notable is that this score is an Accident, it’s successful if they make the death look like an accident. They will still suffer the Heat penalty because of a death associated with the score, but that’s the price of the Hit Squad crew type.
The Engagement Roll is up, I think we’re all familiar enough with it now that I can say it’s a baseline roll of 1d with no major factors. The result is 4 so they open in a risky position.
Fifth Floor, News of the Void Offices, Ink Lane, The Docks
“What did you say you were here for?” The clerk asked incredulously.
“We are interns.” Anvil replied in its even tone. It was wearing a gatsby with a press ticket jammed into the brim, and nobody on Sunset was quite sure where it had come from. The rest of the team were arrayed in a line in front of the receptionist’s desk at the News of the Void headquarters.
The waiting room was opulent, a glass chandelier gently tilted overhead as the breeze from the revolving door at the entrance brushed against it. Leather sofas and large armchairs were arranged around delicate, glass-topped coffee tables, each one decorated with one of the many awards the newspaper had won. When they had entered, Brielle had snorted derisively and whispered to Eve that “They’re all just bought anyway”.
The clerk looked down at a sheet of paper on his desk. “I’m sorry, but-”
“We saw the advert, we know it’s unpaid.” Winstone cut in, stepping to the front of the group, “We’re just here for some experience. Give us today, if it doesn’t work out we’ll leave with no fuss. I’m sure there’s plenty of busywork we can pick up.”
It was a highly unusual situation, while unemployment in Duskwall was described (in the News of the Void itself, frequently) as “dire” and “unworkable” the organised press had a reputation as brutal sweatshops that took advantage of young people’s enthusiasm for journalism to put them to work digging through bins and running coffee for the seniors, and therefore most people were unwilling to step into that environment.
The clerk was aware of this and was appropriately suspicious.
Winstone is going to roll Consort, the Threat here is that the clerk will call in someone higher up to come and deal with them. He rolls 1d and gets a 3, ticking his Special Armour (called Precision) to resist it, the clerk is going to hold off but is unconvinced. I’ll start a clock for Cover Blown and mark 1 of 6 segments on it.
The clerk sighed. The sheet in front of him contained all of the appointments for today and while these four were not on it, a compliant hull being with them along with the apparent earnestness was slowly moving them to the column of his brain marked ‘Not my problem’. He tapped a pencil thoughtfully on it for a moment before looking up at Winstone. “Go through. No time for a tour but if you introduce yourself to Somerfield, he’s the head of desk, he’ll find something for you to do.”
Sunset sidled awkwardly through a set of double doors into the press pool. The room was massive with desks arranged in a grid formation, each one decorated according to its occupant’s tastes, the only shared detail being a single dialler that everyone was ignoring for now. Each desk was empty, and all of the reporters were gathered in a huddle in the center of the room where a few desks had been pushed to the side for the morning huddle.
Despite the ambient chaos, the room was quiet, an air of anticipation building. The door of one of the glass-walled offices at the far edge was flung open and a bald man charged out, beelining for the gathering.
“My niece can write better than you bloody lot, and she’s five!” He bellowed, “I am not askin’ for miracles, here, I’m not the bleedin’ Church, what I am askin’ for is something a bit more interesting than this shit!”
A bundle of papers was sent sailing over the heads of the assembled reporters, it scattered in the air and blew about the place, adding to the general detritus around the nearby desks. Then the bald man - evidently the chief editor, levelled a finger at random into the crowd, people winced back as if it was a loaded weapon. “Corcoran! I appreciate the feature on the Keels, I quite like them myself, but I’d like to remind you that I pay your wages, not them! I’m not running another story on them this month, find someone else to bribe you.”
The finger of blame turned and picked another victim out of the group, “Stoker!”
Beside Eve, Brielle winced.
“Yes, Mr. Elmsley?”
Elmsley advanced, “Do you understand who reads our newspaper?”
“Sir?”
“The News of the Void, Stoker, is read by the common person in the street. Their life is, not to put too fine a point on it, a stack of shit, and it’s not a high stack either. They like blood and guts, especially when it’s not in the penny dreadfuls, and they like it when the fatcats get one of their nine lives trimmed off by the state, or the gangs, or someone just like them.”
The rest of the room was quiet, everyone else grateful that the brunt of the ire was being borne by the luckless Stoker, who gulped loud enough for Sunset to hear it.
“Now, this common person is not thick, despite appearances. They can tell when we’re giving the old brown nose treatment to someone. And as I have just told you, they hate the poshos, the rich, the factory owners and landlords. So they’re going to be especially upset if we embark on a rectal excavation expedition up Cecil Calliard and his latest venture to work some more common people to death. Aren’t they?” This last was delivered with a friendly clap to the back from Elmsley to Stoker.
“Ah.” Winstone whispered to himself. He was wondering why Brielle had winced.
“So what I want you to do, Stoker, is get down to his offices and his factories and his big old house in Whitecrown and his mistresses’ flats in Crowfoot and you dig through the biggest, smelliest piles you can find down there, and you bring me some absolute filth on that man.” Another clap to the back, “And don’t come back until you do. Off you fuck.”
“Think I’ve worked out who wants him dead.” Eve whispered to Winstone.
“Lots of people not getting returns on their investments here, by the look of it.” Winstone replied. Elmsley was delivering some final cutting remarks the general audience before turning and storming back into his office.
A general hubbub ebbed into existence and then flowed back out again as everyone dispersed to their desks. Brielle watched Stoker slumping into his chair, everyone giving it a wide berth as if he had just been diagnosed with something extremely contagious. She felt a hand on her shoulder, “Don’t.” Winstone whispered, “We’re here for Elmsley, not this.”
“He could be useful, even if he is Calliard’s man.”
“It’s too risky. Stick to the job.”
Winstone is going to tick his Professional key, while Brielle ticks Passionate.
If Brielle approaches Stoker, I would tick up Cover Blown by 2 in exchange for Brielle having a chance to roll to increase her Long-Term Project track. I’ll toss a coin to see if she does (Heads) or if she goes with Winstone (Tails). I get a heads.
“I’ll be fast. Better if we split up anyway, we’re drawing attention like this.”
Winstone watched her walk away and turned back to Eve, “Alright. Let’s focus- where is Anvil?”
No location or time change here so I’m using the divider.
Across the room, Somerfield, the head reporter, was nursing a headache. Two painkillers dissolved slowly in the glass of water in front of her, and there was a hull looming over her desk.
“I have been told to report to you.” The hull announced. “I am an unpaid intern.”
Anvil marks XP for obeying an order.
Somerfield did not want to question why it was dressed like a caricature of a journalist. She settled for a more gentle redress, “We normally just say intern.”
The hull stood silently in acknowledgment of this.
“Who ordered you?” Somerfield asked after some time had passed.
“The clerk at the front desk.”
“N-no, who ordered a- give me a moment.”
With remarkable alacrity Winstone had managed to cross the room as soon as he noticed where Anvil was. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Ms Somerfield,” He began, “We’ve got tasks to be getting on with, I’m afraid our hull here just got a little confused.”
Threat is ticking up Cover Blown another 2 if Winstone doesn’t talk his way out of this. Anvil is going to assist for 1 stress by using its Advanced Visual Sensors. Winstone gets a 6, so gets away with it.
Anvil looked down at the glass of water and then back at Somerfield. “You are experiencing a migraine. The medication here will not help. Limit light exposure and loud noise instead.”
Winstone resisted the urge to give Anvil a sideways glance as he went on, “I’ll just get us out of your hair now.” He locked his arm around Anvil’s and gently guided the hull away.
Somerfield blinked a few times and studied the glass of water closely, taking a sip before sighing and getting up. She addressed the desks surrounding her, “I’m taking five. Cover my shit.”
“Hi, Stoker.”
“Who- Brielle?” Stoker jumped in his seat, “What are you doing-”
“Relax. I’m just interning for a bit. I thought you were freelance?”
“I got hired. And you’ve quit inciting riots at factories?”
“That was really more of a hobby. Listen, I’ve got a deal for you.”
Stoker sputtered, “As if, you don’t have anything I could want.”
“Give me the dirt you find on Calliard. Simple as.”
“And lose my job? Amazing deal there, don’t quit your… day job?”
Brielle perched on the side of Stoker’s desk, “I saw the beating you just took. You know people like Elmsley, he’ll move on to another target tomorrow.”
Stoker was still suspicious and drew back, “This is very kind of you, considering what I wrote. Why are you…?” He trailed off and let the question hang there.
“Because Calliard interests me a whole lot more than you do.” She answered honestly.
Rolling with Sway, the Threat is simply failure. She rolls 2d and gets 3, she opts to resist and takes 3 stress for the effort. As a lesser reward, she can tick up the Long Term Project by 1 tick instead of 2.
“I’ll think about it,” Stoker reached down and grabbed a bag under the desk, “I’ve got to go.”
“Find me something good.” Brielle called after him, then got off the desk and moved to rejoin the crew.
“We’re doing very well. All things considered.” Eve quipped as the crew gathered at one corner of the room, next to a water cooler.
“It’s alright, we’ve only nearly blown our cover three times.” Winstone replied, “And I’m no closer to figuring out a way to close this one out.”
They had been circulating around the office for about an hour. Elmsley did not appear to leave his office and the glass window meant sneaking in was not an option. Winstone shrugged, “I was thinking the Skovlan Option. Get him drunk and shove him out the window. We’d need a big distraction, though.”
“I don’t have any alcohol on me, but I do have some go-gos.” Eve reached into a pocket and produced a small packet with several pills in it, “Good for a big fight. Drives your blood pressure right up, makes you really mad.”
“Oh, me too!” Brielle whispered, producing an identical packet, “Rover down the Docks.”
Go-go pills happen to be no-load items on both the Radical and the Veteran’s playbooks.
“Ah, lucky. Rover cut me off a while ago.”
“I could get you hooked back up with him, just-”
“The job, people.” Winstone took the two packets and deftly removed their contents, “Brielle, mix these in a coffee and take them to Elmsley. Anvil?”
“Yes?” The hull loomed over Winstone’s shoulder.
“Come with me.”
“I’ll cover your escape if it all kicks off.” Eve finished as the group split up again.
“Mr Elmsley?”
Brielle nudged the door open gently, cradling the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. She had been watching surrpetitiously from the machine at the other end of the room, waiting for his phone call to finish. The editor-in-chief looked up at her with an expression approaching hostility.
“What is it?”
“Your coffee, sir.”
“Didn’t order any, did I?” It wasn’t phrased like a question.
“It shows initiative, sir. Something the people in your office sorely lack.” Brielle said with a level of authority that didn’t really belong in an intern’s voice.
She’s rolling with Sway again here, the Threat being 2 ticks for the Blown Cover clock. She gets a 3 and resists for another 3 stress. The clock hits 4/6.
Elmsley got up and took the coffee. “Word of advice,” He leaned forward, “There’s people ‘ere who’ve been breaking stories since before you were chucking tantys from a cradle. This lot might be backstabbing bastards but initiative is not a quality they’re missin’.”
He sipped the coffee and regarded her coldly. “Why are you still ‘ere?”
Outside, Winstone and Anvil were carrying a massive stack of blank papers across the room. On cue, Winstone stumbled on a chair that had been left a little too far out and landed heavily against Anvil’s bulk. Anvil made a loud, distressing, mechanical noise, and then began emitting smoke.
Using Anvil’s built-in Smokescreen Emitter here.
In the office, Brielle returned Elmsley’s glare. “There was a message as well, sir, from Stoker.”
“Go on then. It’s not much initiative if you’re holdin’ back on me, is it?”
“He said you’re a cruel, poorly-intentioned bully. A tiny little man who deals with the fact that his fourth wife is halfway out the door by taking it out on the only people in his life that he holds a modicum of power over. He said you’re responsible for the poor quality of tabloids in this entire country, for how normal people are hounded for days on end by vulturous shutterbugs who invade privacy and call it journalism. That your gutter journalism elevates petty criminals like the Keels and makes good people feel hopeless in a dark, unforgiving world. And that your cologne smells like goat’s piss, so I’m going to open a window.”
The coffee cup, now drained of its contents, began to crack under Elmsley’s grip. This was no mean feat - it was ceramic. Veins bulged along Elmsley’s forehead, down his neck, and across his hairy forearms. Brielle moved over to the window, unlocked it, and pushed it open, then stood there stoically. Behind her, the room was steadily filling with smoke and Elmsley had not noticed. The door swung open.
Elmsley dropped the mug and charged. Behind him, Eve was picking up speed. Brielle ducked and braced herself.
Eve is going to roll Skirmish, the Threat is that the Cover Blown clock fills as Elmsley’s scream is heard outside the room. She rolls 2d with +1d from Anvil’s assist and gets 5, resisting to ignore the consequence entirely and scoring 2 stress for the trouble. She also gets to tick up a Key for ‘Violent’.
There was a collision at the window frame. The glass was floor-to-ceiling with the window cut out of the middle. Brielle felt a body hit her and knock her backward, then a second body hit that one and push her further against the lower pane. The weight of the first body lifted off and she caught a glimpse of the figure on the other side of the glass as it began the gravity-guided descent to the ground. Then Eve’s hand was around her shoulders, yanking her to her feet.
“Come on.”
Outside, Winstone was wafting the smoke away and calling out for people to not panic, and that he would take the hull away for repairs. He watched for figures in the smoke and when he saw two emerge from the direction of Elmsley’s office he turned Anvil around and began marching towards the exit.
It was a good ten minutes before anyone noticed Elmsley’s office was empty. Down below, Section Six vans were arriving. The news of Elmsley’s death reached the News of the Void offices much later in the day, long after all of their competitors had learned of it. Judged a death by misadventure, it would dominate the next day’s front page, in the absence of any other story he would have deemed passable. Somefield decided it was probably what he would have wanted, blood and guts and all that.
Conclusion
Zipping through the mechanics we used here, this was the introduction of Brielle’s chosen Rival - Stoker, a journalist. We’ll also go through the XP triggers:
Crew: An Accident is 1xp, a Tier II target is 1xp, and expressing the crew’s drives or motivations (i.e. ticking Keys) is 1xp. They didn’t really do this one Professionally, though…
Winstone: 2xp for dealing with multiple situations with subterfuge. 1xp for ticking his Professional key.
Eve: 1xp for addressing a challenge with violence and 1xp for ticking her Violent key.
Brielle: 1xp for addressing a challenge with persuasion and 1xp for ticking her Passionate key.
Anvil: 2xp for obeying orders (the clerk and Winstone).
Payoff is 6 stacks (minus 1 for the Keels’ cut), and the immediate fallout is:
0 Heat for low exposure, +2 Heat for killing. This triggers Wanted Level 1, which will automatically cause a Trouble in the next section.
2 base Rep +2 for a Tier 2 target. Sunset’s Rep track is now full and they can advance once they have 2 Cohorts (that’s four Advancement clocks they’d need to fill, and they currently have 1.5).
Everyone will do Vice Indulgence and mark one downtime action for a Job to recoup the loss, remaining stack neutral (except Anvil who does not need to do this).
Next time we’ll do the Unwind scene and see what the crew get up to in Downtime. See you in two weeks!