last updated and validated May 1, 1999. SHD
This roleplaying adventure has been designed to follow a "marathon" format, and is intended to run over the course of a weekend, lasting from Friday evening until Sunday evening. With some work and referee padding it is perhaps possible to run it as a short campaign, although the adventure's short timescale (approximately three game weeks) makes it unsuitable for extended play.
In the prelude to the Martian Invasion the party meet up on their way to Woking.
For whatever reason each party member has for travelling to Woking in the early evening of Saturday, they end up sharing the same compartment on the train from Waterloo to Woking Station. This provides an opportunity for the party to meet each other, make introductions, and so set the scene for the rest of the adventure. Let them talk amongst themselves for a little while, describe their characters, their reasons for coming to Woking - the landing of the cylinder has been fairly widely reported, as well as the slaying of the Deputation the previous evening. The day so far has been extremely hot and muggy across the south of England, with signs of an impending storm.
The party's journey to Woking is suddenly interrupted by the attack of a Martian Fighting Machine.
While the party are talking, the train approaches Woking Station. Outside, what appear to be heath-fires are burning in the distance, with the faint sounds of gunfire and artillery on the wind, which cease as the party listen. Abruptly, there is an explosion from the front end of the train, and the party are thrown around their carriage as the train grinds to a sudden juddering halt. Flames flicker outside amid gouts of thick black smoke, and the sounds of screaming and destruction fill the air. The houses outside Woking Station are smashed and ablaze, and panicked citizens run in disorder. The party has arrived in time to witness the Martians' attack on Woking.
The Martians attack Woking, while the party must somehow meet up with their contacts in the military.
The military forces around Woking have set up a field headquarters in the Oriental College at the foot of Maybury Hill. The houses of Woking are ablaze, and a few seem to have been flattened by something other than fire. There is a deafening howling, like a factory siren - "Aloo! Aloo!" loud enough to drown out the screams of the dying. They come across the Fighting Machine that is the source of this unearthly wailing as it goes about its grim business.
The party would be well advised to hide at this point, as they stand no chance against the glittering metallic titan towering a hundred feet tall above the town. On occasion the Heat-Ray will sweep dangerously close to the party (Dodge or Luck rolls to avoid the scorching backwash and fragments of flying masonry), forcing them to dive for cover. They can watch as people less fortunate are struck by the Heat-Ray, causing them to burst into flames and be torn apart by the infernal weapon.
The Heat-Ray itself is fired in a beam which spreads to a width of about six inches, its path only revealed as a hazy beam of shimmering heat as it sears the air it passes through, and a trail of objects bursting into flame. As the party begin to think themselves out of immediate danger, perhaps crouching behind a ruined section of wall, a patch of vegetation about twenty yards away from them smoulders and bursts into flame with a dull thud, then the trail of fire starts to creep towards them. Watch them run.
Eventually, having reduced most of Woking to glowing rubble, the Fighting Machine will stride off towards the woods where the second cylinder fell. However, there is little time to waste, as it will undoubtedly be back.
The party should, having crept furtively across the ruins of Woking, arrive at the Oriental College, where the military forces set up headquarters, at around nine. The College itself is now a heap of smoking ruins - it was one of the first buildings to be destroyed this evening. The remaining able-bodied soldiers (of whom there are pitiful few left) are busy evacuating the wounded and looking for other survivors among the rubble while the Fighting Machine is elsewhere. A number of wagons are being loaded with casualties, many of whom are horribly burned, or have been crushed beneath falling masonry.
On arrival the party will be curtly told that civilians are to leave town immediately. If party members associated with the government explain who they are and ask to see Major Eden, their liaison officer, they will be told that he was on Horsell Common when the fighting started, and is currently missing, presumed dead, along with about 400 men of the Cardigan regiment. Instead they will be directed to another officer, Lieutenant Phelps, who will inform them that the Army are evacuating Woking and withdrawing to Weybridge, where the next major concentration of military forces are located under the command of Brigadier-General Marvin. Once there they are to brief the Brigadier-General on the situation, and he will give them their next instructions.
Following the party's evacuation to Weybridge, they will meet up with the military there to advise them on the Martians. They will be quizzed on the ability of the Martians, their tactics, potential methods of beating them, and so on. Of course the party didn't see too much of the invaders, but every available piece of information could help defend against this menace. The Brigadier-General will wire London to inform his superiors of the party's arrival, and to request further reinforcements. Shortly after the party will receive a reply telegram from the government. News of the Martians' destruction of Woking has reached London, and the party's mission profile has been adjusted accordingly. They are to gather as much information as possible about the Martians that might help in the defence of London against them. However, should the situation become such that their lives are in danger, they are to return to London with whatever information they can get on the invaders.
Meanwhile Weybridge itself is in a state of utter confusion - grenadiers are rushing hither and thither warning people to either evacuate, or to stay in their homes when the fighting starts. Some residents are strolling about in their Sunday best, and the military is having a hard time persuading many of them that they are in danger. The railway station is piled with boxes and packages belonging to the multitude of people hoping to catch a train away from the area.
In the morning the Brigadier-General will propose the party accompany a scout onto Horsell Common in order to glean as much information as possible on the enemy. They do not have to accept this assignment, as it may prove extremely dangerous. As it is, the Martians have not allowed any human closer than a mile from any of their pits, save at the cost of that person's life. If they decline, the party can do what they can to assist in the evacuation of the town, and give whatever advice they can. If they choose to scout out the Common, go to On Horsell Common, otherwise skip on to The Destruction of Weybridge and Shepperton.
The party scout out the Martians' pit on Horsell Common, and meet Ogilvy, the astronomer.
Early on Sunday morning Marvin is dispatching scouts to the areas around the cylinders, in order that they might warn the waiting artillery between Woking and London of the Martians' approach. Marvin believes that the party would be best deployed accompanying one of the scouts approaching the pit on Horsell Common, where their expert knowledge would be best applied. This is especially the case if the party contains military types. Those wearing clothes that might draw attention to them will be issued with drab military fatigues, and they can set off. They are accompanied by a veteran scout, Henry Phillips, who will carefully instruct them on how to move quietly and without being seen, and give a brief lesson on the functioning of the heliograph he is carrying.
Phillips will lead them through Addlestone and Ottershaw towards Chobham, skirting carefully around the Martians' pit in the pinewoods of the New Zealand golf links. The land around the cylinders is scorched and blackened by the Heat-Ray, not a house is standing, not a tree in sight that has not been reduced to a charred trunk. Closer to the pits the effects of the cylinders' impact becomes apparent, with trees flattened and heaps of earth scattered about. Through it all crawls the party, their guide cautiously leading the way.
The Martians seem to be extremely busy, transferring material from the pits at Addlestone and Pyrford into the one on Horsell Common, so the party must make extremely slow progress, moving from cover to cover, skulking along hedgerows and crawling through ditches. Ever and again they will have to duck into the shadows as one of the monstrous Fighting Machines strides past them. After passing through Ottershaw Park, Phillips leads them along the banks of the Bourne, a small river that brings them close to the Martians' pit. Phillips will press forward to a wooded hillock, its trees now nothing more than blackened stumps, from which a spyglass affords a view of the interior of the pit. Peering through the smouldering vegetation they can see a single Martian Fighting Machine standing guard over the pit, its hood turning to and fro as it surveys the surrounding landscape.
The party can spend a while observing the Martians moving about the pit. The place is a veritable hive of activity, and the party can count about a dozen individual Martians, including the occupants of the Fighting Machines. The bodies of several thin, pale creatures lie in a corner of the pit as if discarded, suggestive of apes in form, and partially translucent. A peculiar red growth appears to be creeping up the sides of the pit around the open cylinder. The party can stay like this for some time; as they watch, they can observe a Fighting Machine making the trips to and from the other cylinders carrying large, unidentifiable pieces of equipment, and various plates and bars of a shining metal. The Martians seem to be engaged in intense activity, their incessant hammering and a dense pillar of green smoke rising into the still air.
Party members can watch the Martians' going about their business, engaged in a number of seemingly incomprehensible activities. One of the Martian Handling Machines, a glittering vehicle in which a Martian sits, comparable in form to a large, five-legged crab or beetle, is busy sorting various plates and bars of metal into piles. It then transfers them to where a couple of other Martians in similar machines appear to be engaged in the construction of a large, flat object, what will become the Martians' Flying Machine. Over a frame of shining metal are attached large metal sheets. These are welded onto the frame with a device held in one of the Handling Machine's many tentacles which produces a blinding glare and a wisp of green smoke. On the other side of the pit to this strange construction is another Handling Machine, which is involved in the operation of a peculiar device resembling a milk-can, above which oscillates a pear-shaped receptacle. The Handling Machine imparts the oscillatory motion with one tentacle, while two shovel-like hands fling great masses of clay into the receptacle. Occasionally the Handling Machine removes a quantity of blackened and rusty clinkers from a hatch in the machine. From the Refining Machine there flows a trickle of white dust into a basin, and from there it is guided along a ribbed channel into another device similar to the first which produces a wisp of green smoke. However, instead of white powder, the product of this machine is blue-green dust, which is piled in a heap against the side of the pit. From a hatch in this machine the Handling Machine regularly removes a shining bar of aluminium, which is stacked on top of a pile of identical bars.
After a while observant party members will notice that the Fighting Machine's hood has stopped scanning the landscape, and is instead facing towards Byfleet. A Spot Hidden with the aid of the spyglass will allow the recipient to notice a couple of soldiers in fatigues about a mile away, operating a heliograph, and on seeing this Phillips will curse under his breath. They seem to be unaware that the Martian sentinel has spotted them, and are more concerned with the heliograph. He will spring into swift action with his own heliograph, urgently signalling a warning to the other scouts, but too late. As the party watch, the Fighting Machine will stride away towards the oblivious scouts, swinging loose the generator of the Heat-Ray. The scouts have finally noticed the approaching Martian, and are trying to crawl away as fast as possible. In a matter of minutes the Martian is upon them, and the bushes and grass around them flash into fire. One scout breaks and runs, and is swiftly cut down, the Heat-Ray turning him into a mass of flames before he has gone a dozen paces. The other scout, perhaps possessing more common sense, drops to the ground and lies motionless when a bush nearby ignites. However, playing dead does not save him, as the Martian plays the Heat-Ray over him, setting light to all the vegetation around the unfortunate soldier as if trying to flush out any other humans in the area. When satisfied that no more intruders are nearby, the Martian once more returns to his position over the pit, and resumes his scanning of the countryside.
After this observation, Phillips will suggest returning to Weybridge, as he has seen quite enough, and is sure that the party has as well. By now it is approaching noon. The scout will lead the party back towards the Bourne, keeping to the lengthening shadows of hedges and ditches. Then, on the riverbank where a small tributary stream runs off the common into the Bourne, they come across the prostrate body of a man, lying in the mud next to the stream. At first it appears that he is dead, but a closer examination will reveal that he is alive, but only just. He is dressed in the filthy remains of a respectable suit, stained with blood and dirt, blackened with ash. His hair is scorched, his lips are parched and blackened, he appears to have suffered burns to the left side of his body, and what is left is sunburned. He has a fever and a wound on his forehead is caked with dried blood. All in all, he is a mess.
On a successful First Aid or Medicine roll, the man will regain consciousness, although he is very weak. This man is Ogilvy the astronomer. He will relate to the party in a hoarse whisper that he was a member of the Deputation sent out to greet the Martians on Friday night. The other members of this group, including Stent, the Astronomer Royal, and Henderson, a London journalist, were slain by the Martians' Heat-Ray. Ogilvy escaped because he was on the rightmost end of the little group of men. As the three puffs of green smoke had driven up into the air, he had been briefly dazzled, and tripped on some unseen obstacle on the ground. He had fallen forward just as the Heat-Ray struck his companions, and hit his head on a rock. All through the subsequent day he had lain unconscious on the common, scant yards from the Martians' cylinder. Of the destruction of Woking he knew nothing, and he only came to late last night during a violent thunderstorm. He found that the proximity of the Heat-Ray had burnt his left side, and movement was extremely painful. He had managed to drag himself into the shelter of a blackened clump of gorse, where he spent the night, shivering and terrified. As the light of dawn came he had made his way as quickly as his injuries would allow to the north, having some inclination to skirt round the Martians' pit and thence to his home at Ottershaw. However, he had made little progress as the Martians' route between their pits directly crossed his path, so once more he had been forced to hide, and since then he had been unable to move from his position under the gaze of the guardian Fighting Machine. Finally, a short while ago, the sentinel had briefly moved away to the east, no doubt to inflict some other act of destruction, and he had summoned his last strength to make a dash for the river. He had managed to reach the river, but had collapsed from stress and exhaustion. The next thing he knew he was surrounded by the party.
Once Ogilvy has told his story, Phillips will anxiously suggest moving on, as it is only a matter of time before the Martians look in this direction, and the Brigadier-General will have his hide if the party are not back safely. He will propose following the Bourne as far as Addlestone and then heading across the fields towards Weybridge. Not only are there hedgerows along the riverbank, but the water might afford some protection if the Martians were to spot them.
Ogilvy is well enough to walk, but it is likely that the party will have to take frequent breaks or travel slowly to avoid exhausting him. Some way down the river, south of Ottershaw, the party passes a small boathouse that seems to have mostly escaped the devastation of the last few days. Within is a rowboat large enough to fit the party (fairly tightly packed, admittedly), and various other pieces of bric-a-brac of the sort normally consigned to outhouses, such as a tarpaulin, some rope, tin buckets, a ladder, that kind of thing. If the party don't think of it, an Idea roll will suggest that drifting down the river in this boat might get them to Weybridge faster and less tired than trudging along the riverbank. In addition, it provides a handy way of getting past the pit housing the second Martian cylinder, which is located in pine woods right next to the river, without having to make a lengthy and time-consuming detour. From where they are they can see a Fighting Machine standing over the pit in a similar manner to the Martian on Horsell Common.
Whatever method they choose to avoid the Martians, call for appropriate rolls and let them get on with it. The Martian guarding the second cylinder is not paying particular attention to the river, and is more concerned with eliminating the scouts who are creeping up on the pit. Unless the party is particularly unlucky, or you want to be sadistic, the Martian won't notice them. The party won't know this, so roll dice for the Martian anyway, just to keep the party on their toes.
Just as the party have started to breath again after making it past the second pit, five Fighting Machines come striding across the landscape from the direction of the pit on Horsell Common. Strangely they seem to take no notice of the party cowering in their shadows, but continue swiftly towards Weybridge, their ringings footsteps shaking the ground, their glittering bodies emitting spurts of green smoke from the joints. Soon after heavy gunfire sounds from the direction of Weybridge, punctuated by heavy explosions, and the exultant howling of the Fighting Machines. This tumult lasts perhaps ten minutes, and four of the Fighting Machines return, bearing the shattered body of the fifth between them. Pillars of dense smoke shot with flame rise into the air above Weybridge and Shepperton.
After they have passed the second cylinder, the journey is pretty uneventful. The party can abandon the boat at Addlestone, and make their way to Weybridge, where they report back to Brigadier-General Marvin. By now it should be around half past seven in the evening. Ogilvy will be seen to by medics, and sent to Shepperton Station in one of the black government wagons, along with other casualties of the Martian attack, to catch a special train evacuating the area between the Martians and the London defences. Shortly after the casualty train departs, the party receives a telegram from London instructing them to make their way back to London immediately. It is believed to be highly likely that the Martians will attempt another attack this evening, with the aim of reaching London, and defences are frantically being laid across their path. It is of utmost urgency that the party return to make their report, as the information they have could prove vital. With that they bid farewell to the Brigadier-General and go on their way.
The party find themselves standing in the path of the Martians' Londonward advance.
If the party decline the request for them to accompany a scout onto Horsell Common, they will be in Weybridge when the Martians begin their advance upon London. At around noon, five Fighting Machines attack from Horsell Common.
The first indication of the approaching Martians is the sound of the guns at Chertsey being fired at the invaders. Instantly the guns on the north side of the river at Weybridge open up. The guns at Chertsey are silenced almost immediately, the Martians' Heat-Ray destroying the ammunition wagons in a deafening explosion that shakes the ground and shatters windows in Weybridge. Four Fighting Machines advance in a line towards Weybridge, while another approaches Chertsey to finish off the guns placed there. As the Martian destroys Chertsey, panic grips the crowd on the riverbank, and they flee. A Martian crosses the river a couple of hundred yards from the point where the Wey joins the Thames, and is about to destroy the village of Shepperton when the guns concealed among the houses of that village open fire. The first three shells miss the Fighting Machine, but the fourth explodes directly in the face of its hood. The Fighting Machine is decapitated, and the mechanism reels, uncontrolled, into the tower of Shepperton Church, flattening it, before collapsing into the river in an explosion of superheated mud, steam and shattered metal. A wave of boiling water sweeps upstream, scalding many of the people who dived into the river to escape the Heat-Ray. Two of the remaining four Martians attend to the wreckage of their fallen comrade, while the others unleash the Heat-Ray upon Weybridge, reducing the town to rubble. The Martians then return to their pit on Horsell Common bearing the debris of the destroyed Fighting Machine. The whole battle has taken less than fifteen minutes from the Martians first being sighted to their retreat to Horsell Common. Weybridge, Chertsey and Shepperton are smoking ruins, hundreds of people are dead, and many more are injured. The guns from Chertsey to Weybridge have been destroyed. It is technically a victory for the human defenders, but at an enormous cost.
Whether the party were present during the attack, or only returned from the scouting mission to witness the aftermath of the Weybridge and Shepperton, the party can spend some time doing what they can to help the survivors of the attack. There are dozens if not hundreds of casualties, ranging from those burned and scalded by the Heat-Ray to the unfortunates caught up in the overthrow of the Fighting Machine. Brigadier-General Marvin, his arm in a sling from a shrapnel wound sustained as the ammunition wagons exploded, is organising the search for survivors and the removal of casualties from the field of battle. Any assistance the party can render either looking for survivors amid the rubble or administering first aid to the injured is greatly appreciated. Party members injured during the attack can receive medical attention from the army physicians tending to the wounded, but their resources are stretched to the limit with the number of injured soldiers and civilians.
The Brigadier-General will hold a council with the party to see if they can come up with any way of defending against these metallic titans. He knows that the destruction of one of the Fighting Machines proves they are not invulnerable, but he also understands that it was pure luck that they managed to bring the thing down. He will listen carefully to any suggestions made, as he is at a loss as to how the Martians might be defeated. The best he can think of is to position artillery batteries between the Martians and London, and hope that they sustain sufficiently high losses as to be dissuaded from attack.
Meanwhile, casualties will be loaded onto special trains bound for London, while the rest of the population of Weybridge, Shepperton and Chertsey will strike out by foot away from the Martian advance. The last casualty train will depart at around six in the evening. The Brigadier-General will suggest that the party get some rest, as the Martians are bound to make another assault, and it would be best if everyone was rested and alert.
Following a Phyrric victory by the human military at Weybridge, the party make their way to London to report on their discoveries.
At around half past seven in the evening, those party members affiliated with the Government will receive a telegram from the War Office. They are to return to London immediately, repeat, immediately. Railway transport is unavailable, so they must travel in a spare wagon supplied by the military. However, no one can be spared to drive the vehicle, so they must make their own way back. The quickest route is to follow the Thames through Walton and Hampton Court to Kingston, and thence through Putney and Wandsworth to the War Office. Their route is shared with the residents of Surrey who are evacuating their homes, burdened with boxes and bundles containing their valuables, which will slow their progress. There are dogcarts, farm wagons, bicycles, pony chaises, a grocer's cart, even a motorcar or two, as well as a wide range of people on foot.
At the same time, the Martians are resuming the offensive. Around 8 p.m. Three Fighting Machines venture forth from the pit on Horsell Common, and advance cautiously in a line, with perhaps a mile and a half between each walker and the next. They move slowly through Byfleet and Pyrford towards Ripley and Weybridge, emitting their unearthly howls all the while. At around 8.30 p.m. a Fighting Machine is crippled by artillery fire from concealed batteries on St. George's Hill. About an hour later it is repaired, and the Martians resume the advance, firing canisters of Black Smoke at any obstacle that might provide cover for artillery.
The party will hear the Martians' wailing and artillery fire to the southwest around that hour. The party, looking back through the gathering darkness, will see a number of large cone-shaped mounds rising above the surrounding landscape. These black kopjes will sink and broaden even as they watch. From the direction of the nearest, several miles behind the party in the direction of Sunbury, can be heard a distant tumult of voices and horses, which quickly stops.
The Martians advance slowly, implacably, systematically spreading the Black Smoke in their path. The party might occasionally catch glimpses of the Fighting Machines as they go about their grim business, small and remote against the stars. When the Black Smoke has served its purpose, the Martians wade into it and direct a jet of superheated steam upon the banks of cloud, causing it to settle into a clinging black powder, similar in texture to coal dust.
All through this the party make their careful way towards London, the distant concussions of artillery fire sounding intermittently throughout the evening. Such is the traffic on the Londonward roads that the party have only just passed through Kingston shortly after eleven, where they can observe the mighty siege guns on Kingston Hill and the more distant ones in Richmond Park firing against the Martians, aided by large electric search lights. These cannon are firing chance shots towards Hampton and Ditton in the hope of hitting the Martians in that area. However, as the party is passing through Kingston, a Martian approaches the guns positioned on the hill. With a deafening howling it strides towards the artillery and unleashes the terrible Heat-Ray upon the forces arrayed against it. Munitions wagons detonate, the cannons explode in white-hot fragments, and men and horses collapse in flames. The trees burst into flame with dull thuds, and houses crumble in ruin. If the party have any kind of common sense at all they will whip the horse into a gallop and flee this devastation. Behind them the hills are crowned with a bright red glow.
By midnight the party are flanked on both sides by the Black Smoke, the countryside towards Richmond on the left and Wimbledon on the right blotted out by towering clouds of poisonous vapour which rapidly sink and spread, flowing along streets and roads, smothering all it touches. The mood of the traffic will become more frantic as it hurries to escape these mencaing mounds of darkness.
A few seconds after midnight the party can see the sky pierced by a thread of green fire, a falling star that passes overhead with a fluttering sound like tearing silk. It lights up the countryside for miles around, and lands to the southwest with a flash like summer lightning, and a distant concussion that can be felt through the ground. This is the fourth cylinder, which lands in Bushey Park.
The deeper they get into London, the heavier the traffic becomes - it seems that the news of the advancing Martians is filtering through the population in their path. In support of this the party can watch as soldiers and policemen bearing lanterns knock on people's doors to wake them and warn them of the approaching danger. Doors are opened by occupants wearing nightshirts or in various states of undress, all wondering what the fuss is about. The atmosphere seems to be one of confused anxiety, verging on panic, and some members of the public are not helping matters. One cart is carrying a clergyman who harangues the crowd with a sermon of blood and thunder, of the coming apocalypse, of God's final judgement of Mankind's sins, that sort of thing. As the party passes they can listen to his cries fading into the distance.
The party cross the Thames at Putney at around two o'clock on Monday morning to discover that the government is rousing the city's six million inhabitants, warning them of the choking death approaching from the west. The Exodus from London has begun.
The party are caught up in the mad stampede of the population out of London.
The party arrives in London on the crest of the wave of fear that is sweeping through the capital. Church bells are pealing out across the great city, rousing the slumbering population of London to flight. Here too there are policemen and soldiers hammering on doors in the street to wake the slumbering occupants within. Every train station in the capital from which northbound trains are running is surrounded by mobs of people desperate to get a place. Revolvers are fired, there are fistfights, stabbings, and people are trampled underfoot by the panicked crowds. Incredibly early extra editions of the newspapers are being sold on the streets, so fresh that the ink is still wet. The vendors are selling these papers for up to a shilling a copy, yet they are being snapped up. If the party purchase one of these papers, show them handout #3. There is a terse dispatch from the Commander-in-Chief warning of the Black Smoke, ending with the words: "There is no safety from the Black Smoke but in instant flight." It goes on to mention that the Government is moving out of the capital, although it neglects to mention where. The trickle of refugees from Surrey, joined by the populace of London, soon becomes a raging torrent, packing the northeast roads.
As the first light of Monday dawns the party have made it as far as Hyde Park. All about them are fellow refugees fleeing the encroaching Black Smoke on foot, on horse, on bicycle. As the day progresses, the populace becomes increasingly desperate. By ten o'clock the police organisation has broken down and by noon the railways cease to operate - drivers and crews refuse to return to the metropolis, leaving thousands waiting at city train stations for trains that will not arrive. Soon, frustrated at the impossibility of catching a train out of London, the crowds that had surrounded the railway stations across the city start streaming along the roads leading away to the northeast. The Thames is a chaotic mass of shipping, their crews lured by the extravagant sums of money offered by refugees for passage out of the country, and people are actually swimming out to the vessels in the river, only to be thrust off with boathooks.
About one in the afternoon a thinning cloud of Black Smoke drifts down the river past Blackfriars Bridge, and at this the river erupts into a frenzy of frantic activity as the shipping gathered there rushes to escape this ominous wall of smoke. A number of vessels become jammed for a time in the northern arch of Tower Bridge, and their crews have to fight off the fugitives climbing down the piers of the bridge above.
At two o'clock, when a Martian appears above the Clock Tower laying the clouds of Black Smoke with its steam jet, the river is deserted apart from a few pieces of floating wreckage. The shipping removes itself to the Essex and Kent coastlines, where it resumes picking up passengers for extortionate fees.
There is no feasible way the party can secure transport out of the capital, and will have to make their own way out. Over the next two days the party should make their way northeast towards the sea, surrounded on all sides by the weary inhabitants of London. On the way, you might like to add a couple of optional encounters, given below.
A Martian Fighting Machine appears over some trees in the distance, emitting its siren-like howl. At this the traffic, already tense and on the verge of panic, breaks into a wild stampede away from the invader. Pedestrians who cannot jump out of the way in time are trampled underfoot, carts lock wheels with a splintering of wood, and the frantic cries of the fleeing crowds are drowned out by the Martian's deafening wail. Advancing swiftly upon the heavy crowd, the Fighting Machine's snatches up a cart, horse and all, with its metallic tentacles and flings it back into the flow of traffic, where it smashes to splinters, crushing people beneath. The Martian strides over the road, wreaking random destruction upon the fugitives who flee in terror. People whose paths are cut off try to turn around and run back the way they came, but only succeed in causing collisions and confusion that causes the flow of traffic to grind to a halt. Its metallic tentacles writhe, and their tips crack like whips as they smash vehicles and flatten buildings lining the road. Strangely, the Martian does not unleash its Heat-Ray, as it might be expected if it intended to destroy the terrified humans. Rather, it seems to be acting to sow panic and confusion, to crush and overawe its opposition and disrupt the stream of fugitives leaving the capital. It will uproot one of the nearby pine trees, and use it as a club, sweeping aside the carts and wagons which are now galloping away from it in blind panic. With a good Drive Carriage roll to avoid wrecking the wagon in the desperate crush, the party manages to find its way onto a quiet side road which most of the crowd, rushing headlong, seem to have missed. This hollow track is edged on both sides by high banks and hedgerows. The road is quite winding, but still allows the party to get up a reasonable degree of speed. A couple more vehicles spot the party's wagon and follow them into this opportunity to escape. Meanwhile the Martian, from his vantagepoint in the cupola of the Fighting Machine, has spotted the humans trying to escape, and gives pursuit. There are a handful of other vehicles bolting down this road, their horses galloping as fast as they can under the frenzied whips of their drivers.
The driver of the party's vehicle will have to receive a Drive Carriage roll every round due to the winding nature of the road and the breakneck speed of the wagon. Failure of a roll, unless a fumble, simply means that the party lose their lead on the Fighting Machine. However, this also applies to the Fighting Machine's operator, as the wagon, veering as it is down the twisting lane, is hard to follow. The essential challenge here is one of manoeuvrability: the Fighting Machine can travel very fast, but at such high speeds its momentum is such that it cannot change direction suddenly; the wagon is not quite as fast, but can take sharper corners than the Fighting Machine, and so elude it.
The party whips their horse into a wild gallop, the Fighting Machine charging after them with ringing metallic footsteps and a siren-like howl. Buildings in its path are smashed to smithereens, trees uprooted and flung headlong. Non-driving party members with firearms might want to take pot shots at the metallic monster; their chance to hit halved due to the movement of the wagon, in addition to penalties for range. Others might want to simply cling for dear life to the wildly bouncing vehicle.
The Martian is steadily gaining on them, and those watching its pursuit can look on as it seizes the buggy scarcely a hundred yards behind them in its tentacles and throws it at the fleeing wagon. The buggy will land with a splintering crash ahead of the party, forcing them to veer wildly to avoid a collision.
As the Fighting Machine closes the distance, the party can see with relief the edge of Epping Forest ahead of them. If they can just make it under the trees, the leaf canopy might allow them to evade the Martian altogether. But they need to get there first. Happily, luck lends a hand to even the odds. The vehicle they are driving, the wagon supplied by the military in Weybridge, was being used to transport munitions to the battle line, and the soldiers who unloaded the wagon missed a box pushed under one of the seats. A particularly violent bump knocks loose the box, and it clatters across the floor of the cart. A DEX or Luck roll might be called for to catch it before it slides off the edge of the wagon. Inside this box are about a dozen sticks of dynamite with fuses.
This fortuitous discovery slightly evens the chances of survival. The sticks of explosive can be lit and thrown off the back of the wagon into the path of the Fighting Machine. The length of fuse is such that the sticks explode approximately ten seconds, or three rounds, after the fuses are lit. Thus it takes four rounds in total for a stick to explode - in the first round it is lit, for the next two rounds the fuse is burning, and on the following round it explodes. Lighting the fuse is no mean feat - a DEXx4 roll is required to ignite the thing. It might be possible to shorten the fuse so that the stick explodes sooner - an INTx4 or Demolitions roll might be called for to successfully gauge the length of fuse required, failure meaning that the stick explodes too soon or too late - a fumble might indicate that a lit stick has been dropped in the back of the wagon, or that the fuse is so short that the party are caught on the edge of the explosion.
Once the party has entered Epping Forest, the driver needs to make a Hide roll to evade the attention of the Fighting Machine - perhaps ducking down a small side-track, or suddenly halting the wagon and allowing the Martian to pass them by. It must be said that the horse is not particularly inclined to stop when a hundred-foot-high Fighting Machine is pursuing. A Ride Horse or Drive Carriage roll might be needed to calm the horse enough for it to stand its ground. Alternatively the party might simply jump from the moving wagon, meaning that the Martian passes them by as it pursues the vehicle. Jump rolls are called for to minimise the 1D6 hit points of damage taken due to leaping from a moving vehicle.
Eventually, after thrashing around the forest for a while, the Martian will lose interest and move off to the south, leaving the party shaken and exhausted after the headlong chase. After a break to recover their wits, they can continue on their way.
Travelling down a small side-road the party come across a distraught-looking man in dishevelled clothing, who pleads with them to help his friend, who has been run down by a cart and broken his leg. Further down the lane can be seen the body of a man lying by the side of the road, his legs swathed in bloodstained cloth. In fact, this is a ruse, as these men are after the party's transport. If the party stop to help the injured man, then as soon as one of them has descended from the wagon both men will draw revolvers, and order the party to raise their hands and get off the wagon. The party now has two options: they can go along with it and lose their transport, or they can put up a fight. The party outnumbers the robbers, and should be able to overpower them, but there is the risk of being shot.
If the party decide to go along with the robbers' demands, they will be ordered to lie down in the ditch by the side of the road while the two thieves clatter off down the road, laughing at having tricked the party out of their transport.
On the other hand, if the party decide to put up a fight, run it as a normal combat. The robbers have their guns drawn and aimed, and the party (unless some of them stated otherwise) doesn’t. They might try to distract the bandits, or bluff their way out of the situation, or just shout and leap at the robbers. It isn't necessary to kill them - if they are obviously outclassed they will run away, leaving the party to continue on their way.
As the party travel north, the vast mass of humanity fleeing London will realise the necessity of acquiring food. The normal rules of ownership will cease to be obeyed, and farmers will take up arms to protect their crops from hungry refugees. In one village the party reaches their horse will be confiscated from them as food, and they will be turned away at gunpoint. Eventually it should occur to the party that it would make sense for them to return to the capital, where plentiful provisions are going to waste.
The party discover the wrecked remains of the Martian Flying Machine - shortly before the Martians.
From Richmond or Putney Hill, the party can see a large swathe of destroyed houses away to the northwest, in the direction of Hammersmith or Shepherds Bush. On investigating, they stumble across the crashed wreckage of the Martians' mighty Flying Machine, along with the bodies of the craft's two Martian pilots. This is an opportunity for them to closely examine the Martian physiology, and witness the complexity of Martian technology. It is also an opportunity for them to relieve some of the feeling of utter impotence which should have been building up until now, that is, if they manage to get the Heat-Ray working again. The craft is almost buried under the piles of rubble it ploughed up on its crash landing, and the Red Weed has spread to conceal the craft very well. There is an acrid smell in the air, caused by the evaporation of spilt viridigen fuel. The Flying Machine still has power, and limited functionality. The party might notice that a steady breeze blows towards the craft from every direction, most noticeable close to the craft.
On entering through an access hatch, they will notice that they feel somewhat lighter than normal in certain areas of the craft, and that the air is slightly thinner than usual. This is a result of the gravity-blocking substance used to help the machine to fly - various areas of the gravity shield array are jammed open (meaning almost normal gravity) or closed (leading to much lower gravity over these areas). Party members are likely to be rather surprised as they step on one section of the floor only to drift upwards and hit their heads on the ceiling. The two Martian pilots are enclosed in a tube of transparent material, thin and flexible, yet very hard to cut. Doctors or biologists might wish to perform an examination of the Martian bodies, leading to various revelations about the Martian anatomy. In front of the Martians is a wide console from which emanate a number of beams of different coloured light. Some of the shafts flicker erratically, others pulse slowly, while others are steady beams. Around the sources of these beams are sinuous inscriptions in a language totally alien to the party, but faintly reminiscent of ancient script.
There are a number of flat panels on the walls of the cabin, similar to windows. There is a main panel mounted in the centre on the front wall, surrounded by a number of smaller panels. Some are blank and featureless; others flicker intermittently, while a few show a view of the outside of the craft, or different areas inside the craft. Waving a hand through any of the beams will have a variety of results. Depending on how lucky they are, these may range from the hatch sealing, to different beams changing colour, or messages in the strange script appearing on the panels. There may be a grinding noise from the hull of the craft as it reconfigures its shape, or some sections of the gravity shield array may open or close. Characters may notice (on an Idea or Spot Hidden roll) that the result is not only dependent on which beams of light you block, but also on how far from the console you block it. It is not possible to fly the craft, as the main engine has been damaged, a large quantity of the viridigen fuel has evaporated, and the gravity shields are damaged. Some beams of light on the console may cause the images on the panels to zoom in or out, or show different views. Let the party play with these controls for a while, experimenting and learning how to use them. The controls are fairly intuitive - moving your hand down one of the beams that control the picture panels will cause it to zoom in, and moving your hand up will cause it to zoom out.
It should be noted that the dorsal-mounted Heat-Ray is still partly functional, if only the party could work out how to use it. How the party learns this is up to you. Perhaps one of the controls causes a hydraulic whine from the back of the craft, and observers outside the machine will notice the Heat-Ray armature unfolding from the hull. Small visual schematics of the Flying Machine might appear on one of the panels showing the armature extending. These schematics will also show some sections of the craft lit up steadily in red, while other [damaged] parts flash green. Incidentally, it is worth mentioning that this is generally the rule for Martian displays - the colours of green for functional or undamaged and red for danger are interchanged. This means that if, for example, they try to fiddle with the controls and the schematic shows the whole craft flashing green, they would be advised to get away from the Flying Machine very quickly. If the party press their luck, they may get the Heat-Ray to fire, igniting some of the Red Weed outside.
Party members receiving a successful Spot Hidden roll will notice that one of the panels seems to show the view from the hood of a Fighting Machine as it travels through the ruins of London, and another is displaying the inside of a Fighting Machine. It should be noted that if the panel allows the party to view the inside of an occupied Fighting Machine, the occupant is able to see them in return, by means of a camera located on the console. This is a Bad Thing, as the presence of humans in a Martian construct is not to be tolerated. The Martian will be seen to spring into activity, tentacles flying across its control console, and the external view from the Fighting Machine will show it striding across the landscape. Observant party members will note that the scenery the Fighting Machine is passing is rather familiar. Eventually it should dawn on them that the Martian is heading towards them. What the party does now is open to question. If they have discovered how to use the Heat-Ray, they may decide to make a stand - this is brave, but foolish. Alternatively, they might take the wiser measure of running far, far away. It should be made apparent that this machine would allow the Martians to dominate the entire world.
What actions the party take is entirely up to them, but any explosives obtained earlier would be most useful. Failing that, wrecking the complex and temptingly fragile-looking crystalline matrices might suffice. Whatever they do, they have approximately ten minutes before the Fighting Machine arrives on the scene.
The party meet an escaped member of the Martian slave race.
Near one of the Martians' pits the party come across a strange figure, crawling painfully away from the Martian pit. This creature is a member of the Martians' slave race who has somehow managed to escape his masters, and is attempting to flee from them. He is well over six feet tall, but ridiculously thin and spindly compared to humans. His skin is extremely pale, almost translucent, and his large eyes have red irises. He wears rags streaked with dust and mud, and appears to be injured, as he is having trouble breathing. What the party do with him is up to them. He is extremely weak, and looks unlikely to last much longer. He will babble in a lilting language that none of the party will understand. He has the Telepathy spell, but its use obviously drains him. Even so, the party will be able to get some information out of him, but it is incoherent at best. It will consist of the information that his name is Galnir, he was on the Martian cylinder, but escaped a couple of days ago. They also learn that the Martians intend to signal Mars for reinforcements in several nights' time, but have not yet completed the assembly of their apparatus. He will die a couple of hours after the party find him.
The party encounter a group of revellers bidding farewell to the Empire of Man.
On Day 12, the party may notice a blaze of electric lights illuminating the night sky over Regent Street and Picadilly Circus. Someone has got the electric generators working, and the streets are crowded with the ragged survivors who have been lurking in the shadows. Now, attracted by the lights and the raucous sound of revelry, they have crept from their hiding places for one last wild night of excess in the face of despair. The atmosphere is one of hopeless debauchery and excess - the sentiment being "It's the End of the World, so you might as well get drunk and enjoy yourself while you can". Shops have been ransacked for food and alcohol, which is piled around in barrows and heaps. Drunken merrymakers weave their way along the street, or dance to the tinny sound of a phonograph someone has dug out. At one end a member of the Salvation Army is berating the crowds for their decadence, making comparisons with Sodom and Gomorrah and the Babylon of the book of Revelations,but with little result. Painted ladies of the night offer their services for food or alcohol, while the occasional fight breaks out over the piles of supplies.
As the night wears on, the festivities continue. More and more people are drawn out into this strange and pathetic party. As dawn breaks, someone notices a terrifying sight - lurking next to the Langham Court Hotel a Martian Fighting Machine is watching the proceedings. No one knows how long it has been standing there, but as the crowd starts to stumble away it strides into action, plucking up those too drunk or frightened to run and depositing them in the metal basket on its back. People are trampled in the panicked stampede, carriages overturned, windows broken.
The party find evidence of the sinister method of Martian mind control, and learn of the Martians' plan to signal Mars.
The party comes across the prostrate form of a man lying in the road. He is alive, but unconscious, and bleeding from a scalp wound. He is dressed in clothes that were once respectable, but are now in a sad state. A First Aid roll will restore him to consciousness, and he will awake frightened and confused. When he calms down he will introduce himself as Marcus Pearce, a stockbroker prior to the Martian invasion. He will ask to join the party, as there is a better chance of survival as part of a group.
If asked why he was lying in the road, he will become quite confused. He was creeping down a street perhaps a mile away from where he was found by the party when he spotted one of the Martians' Handling Machines. He ran, and thought he had escaped. The next thing he remembers is being woken by the party. If he tries to think too hard about it, he will get a sharp headache. He won't make this too obvious to the party - a good Spot Hidden or Psychology roll will allow a character to notice him wince slightly, and perhaps put a hand to his head, but nothing more. Psychology or Psychoanalysis rolls will allow a party member to notice that he is not terribly well balanced, but this is hardly surprising considering the destruction and terror of the Martian invasion. Over time, however, he will deteriorate. If Marcus is allowed to join the party, he will follow them around while they do whatever it is they do. However, if they perform actions inimical to the Martians' plans, he will suffer a debilitating headache, perhaps even pass out. He will attribute this to a blow he took to the head shortly before the party met him. After a while he will recover. He will not, however, help them directly to fight the Martians.
A few days after they meet him, a Martian will attempt to gain control of Marcus via the implant. If the Martian fails at first, Marcus will clutch his head and begin screaming about how they are coming for him, how much it hurts, and similar hysterical ravings. The Martian will continue to attempt to gain control of Marcus until it succeeds. At that point Marcus will abruptly become quiet. If questioned by the party about the nature of this episode, he will claim not to have any memory of what happened, but that he is "feeling well now".
If the Martian succeeds first time, the only outward sign might be a slight tic or suchlike. His behaviour and demeanour, however, will noticeably change. His speech is calm, almost unnaturally so, while a Psychology roll will let a character notice the curious blankness of his eyes and face. He will carry on as if nothing had happened. Other such minions have been released to infiltrate the various small groups of human survivors to allow their masters to keep track of resistance and capture them at their leisure.
Eventually Marcus will simply snap under the repeated control attempts of his Martian master and attack the party or kill himself. He will rant about "them", controlling him, talking to him, in his dreams, inside his head, yes, voices, whispering, ordering, commanding, but no one else can hear them, so they talk to him, and so on, you get the idea. If he is not killed by the party, and is restrained such that he cannot kill himself he will eventually swallow his own tongue during a particularly violent seizure. The party may wish to examine his body for signs as to why this happened. If so, they will discover a small mass of crystal, perhaps the size of a half-pea, imbedded in his scalp on the crown of his head. Further examination (Medicine, Pathology or suchlike) will reveal is to be attached to a thin wire, no thicker than a human hair, that runs into his brain - specifically the pineal gland. Nothing further of note is present. It is a reasonable deduction that the Martians were controlling this unfortunate man, and the strain proved too much for him.
Indeed, over the next few days the party can encounter the bodies of men, usually fairly strong-looking, who have apparently killed themselves, usually by beating their brains out on a wall or pavement. All will have similar implants in their heads.
The party are captured by the Martians, and must escape before their blood is drained to feed the invaders.
While roaming the streets of London, the party is caught unawares by a Martian Fighting Machine. The Fighting Machine will appear suddenly, rearing over some nearby buildings, having previously had its legs folded to render itself less visible. It moves towards them, evidently not intent on killing them, as it uses neither the Heat-Ray nor the Black Smoke. Its enormous strides mean that it is soon upon them, and attacks with its metallic tentacles, grabbing whoever it can and depositing them in the basket of wire mesh on its back. Dodge rolls might allow party members to evade the tentacles for a while, but the Martian is very persistent, and unless they can find a secure hiding place, they will be caught eventually. The tentacles are able to jolt victims with an electric shock if they struggle too much, rendering them unconscious. Thick clothing may provide some protection against this, at the GM's discretion. If the electric jolt does not manage to render a victim unconscious, the Martian may knock their head against a nearby object such as a tree or building to subdue them. The Martian will capture 1D4+2 victims before it is satisfied and leaves - try to ensure that at least one of the party members is not captured, although if the whole party is caught it simply serves to add to the threat of this encounter.
There are already 1D6 prisoners in the basket at the point that the party is captured. Once it has captured a sufficient number of prisoners, the Fighting Machine will take the party to the Martians' camp at Wimbledon. There the Fighting Machine will take up a position near the edge of the Pit, and contract its legs to allow its operator to dismount. Individuals rendered unconscious during capture will come to in 30 minus CON minutes. The party, and any other people captured, is left in the basket for several hours while the Martians go about their business. Try to characterise the other captives. Get the party to identify with them. They represent a wide cross-section of society, ranging from a solicitor to a housemaid. For the most part they have been lurking in the deserted buildings of London, trying to eke out a living and avoid the Martians. Several of the NPCs will be weeping or hysterical, others will fume impotently, and the others might just sit dejectedly in the corner, having given up all hope. The situation provides an opportunity for the party to observe the Martians up close and personal, and to get to know the enemy.
The Pit itself measures perhaps one hundred and fifty yards across, and fifty feet deep at its lowest point. The Cylinder, a wide shape thirty yards across, lies open in the centre of the Pit. Martians are working around it in their Handling Machines, or sluggishly dragging themselves about the pit. Another Fighting Machine stands at full height on the other side of the Pit, its hood moving to and fro as it scans the surrounding countryside. Various machines and engines are scattered around the floor of the Pit. There is a Refining Machine being operated by one of the Martians, turning clay into bars of sparkling aluminium, a Digging Machine, apparently operating without the supervision of a controlling Martian, and assorted other engines and constructs. As well as gathering information on the Martians, they should be planning some sort of escape. At this stage in the Invasion the Martians are fairly complacent about their prisoners - they have yet to suffer the effects of determined guerrilla warfare by human resistance fighters, and as far as the humans can tell, they are treated rather like cattle. The prisoners are typically left in the Fighting Machine's basket until needed. The basket itself is of a similar shape to a lobster pot, meaning that it is easy to put victims into the basket, and they have a hard time of escaping. The prisoners are mostly unguarded, the shape of the basket and the fact that it is about thirty feet off the ground being believed to be discouragement enough. How the party engineers their escape is up to them. Party members who remain free have little trouble sneaking into the pit, although it might be a good idea to wait until after dark, as the shifting shadows and the dense cover of Red Weed provide ample concealment from the Martians. If the free characters try to approach the pit before nightfall, the Martian in the Fighting Machine has a reasonable chance of spotting them as they creep through the Red Weed. If it spots them, however, it will have better things to do than go chasing after a couple of stray humans, and will satisfy itself with incinerating the Red Weed on the edge of the pit nearest the characters with its Heat-Ray in the hope that they get the hint. The Martians' sense of hearing is not particularly acute, although there is no need to tell the party that, and besides, the clangour of the various Martian machines is sufficient to mask all but the loudest noise. In any case, the prisoners are perfectly capable of holding a hushed conversation with those on the ground.
If you want to make things interesting, have one of the NPCs, preferably one who was hysterically ranting earlier, shout loudly to the free characters, imploring them to release him. He will beg and wail, and become dangerously loud and desperate if the free characters look like they are leaving without freeing him. The party will need to subdue this irrational and inconsiderate individual before he attracts the attention of the Martians. Make periodic Listen rolls for the Martians at half base chance due to the noise of the machines operating in the pit. While the party tries to work out a plan, have them interrupted by one of the Martians returning to the hood of the Fighting Machine. If the party are engaged in conversation with their free colleagues, a Spot Hidden roll, with appropriate modifiers for darkness and suchlike, will warn of the Martian's return. The free characters have plenty of time to secrete themselves, as the Martian tediously crawls to the tripod and is lifted into the hood by one of the metallic tentacles. After a short while, a glittering tentacle will reach into the basket. Have all of the party make Luck or Dodge rolls. Also make rolls for the NPCs in the basket. Have the party member with the worst Luck roll brushed by the tentacle and stunned by the electric charge, and let the NPC with the worst Luck roll grabbed by the tentacle and lifted out of the basket. This poor unfortunate will be the Martians' first victim.
The party watch as the selected person is deposited amid a group of Martians gathered below the Fighting Machine, who quickly secure their victim with their tentacles. The victim will struggle and cry out, but a chorus of hooting from the Martians, who will then proceed to feed on the hapless person, will drown their shouts out. They extend thin, needle-like pipettes from their mouths, about two to three feet long, and plunge them into the victim's neck, draining the living blood from his veins in front of the party's eyes. The victim will give a blood-curdling shriek, and implore the other captives for help. The victim's cries and struggles will grow weaker as they are drained of every last drop of blood, and his body will be carelessly cast onto a pile of similarly drained corpses. Once they have finished feeding the Martians will blow through the pipettes to clear them of blood, creating the characteristic hooting noise before going about their business.
The Martian in the Fighting Machine will laboriously clamber down from the vehicle and go off to perform some activity in another part of the pit. This incident should prove sufficient to galvanise the party into action. Numerous possibilities are available for escape. As it stands the basket is almost on a level with the edge of the pit, although there is a gap of approximately ten feet to cross. Party members on the outside might throw a rope across to the basket, or they might orchestrate a distraction in another part of the pit while the rest of the party climb down and make their escape. They might even attempt to sabotage the Martians' machine before they make their getaway, although unless done subtly, or intentionally as a distraction, this sort of behaviour would draw attention to them, and cause the Martians to try to stop them escaping. Pyrotechnics are not the way to go in this situation.
Do remember though, that the aim of this encounter is not to wipe out the party, but to scare them and to give them an opportunity to observe the Martians in detail, and to try to uncover some weakness that might be exploited. If they come up with an escape plan that the GM judges to be practicable, call for appropriate rolls and let them try it.
The party meets up with the Artilleryman on Putney Hill.
The first they will see of the Artilleryman is a filthy and dishevelled figure, wild of appearance and gaunt of face, wielding a cutlass and a revolver, lurking amongst the bushes on Putney Hill. A Spot Hidden might reveal that the ragged and filthy clothing he wears were at one point a military uniform. At first he will be hostile and challenge the party, thinking them a group of raiders searching for food, especially if they are openly carrying weapons. If the party respond to the Artilleryman's bluster with hostility, or even violence, he will be quite capable of holding them off to start with, but if the odds look too bad he will flee into the fields of Red Weed, and hide until the party go away. He might be more amenable if a military party member could convince him of their bona fides. If they make known their peaceful intentions (if they are peaceful, that is), then he will change his manner dramatically, becoming friendly and invite them into the house he has made his den, a large, luxurious residence with a good view over the surrounding countryside. He will engage them in conversation, on subjects such as the fact of Martian victory, how there is no way Humanity can hope to defeat the invaders, and so on. Eventually he will talk to the party about his plan for Humanity to start living underground, and enthuse about his planned Brave New World. He has even gone so far as to acquire some plans of the London sewer and drain system. However, closer inspection will reveal them to be for a different area of London entirely, and useless for this particular region. The Artilleryman is quite happy to let the party have these plans, as he found a load of them while foraging in the civic offices. He recommends that the party also search the civic offices for plans if they intend to navigate London's labyrinthine system of underground tunnels.
He is extremely charismatic and persuasive, but beneath the surface of his planned Utopia can be detected a deep resentment of the class system, and specifically those people he regards as being of higher class than he. He evidently has something of an inferiority complex. He speaks with particular vehemence about how there won't be any more of those decadent activities like visiting the opera, or meals at fancy restaurants and suchlike. No, his perfect society won't have any of those outmoded and unfair class distinctions. Only those who can contribute to the functioning of the society may be a part of it, with the scientists and engineers deciding the actions of the community for the greater good, himself among them. Of course the architects of this subterranean paradise would qualify for certain privileges. But that would be only natural, considering the extra value of their input.
He may ask the party for help in digging the tunnel he has started in the cellar of the house he is living in. He will join in eagerly at first, but after about an hour of work he will propose that they stop for a break while he and some of the party goes off to check for Martians. On their return to the house he will then challenge the party to games of cards and other such activities, plying them with cigars, champagne and other scavenged luxuries. If the party look like they are going to stay with this man for a prolonged period, gently remind them of the importance of their mission; if they stay here, they are wasting their time, indulging themselves in petty and meaningless luxuries while the human race teeters on the edge of extinction. If they bring up the subject of leaving, he will be disappointed, but will not hinder their departure - it was nice to share their company while it lasted.
The party venture into the labyrinthine tunnels beneath London, and make some disturbing discoveries.
Following on from the prompting of the Artilleryman, the party may choose to take his advice and avoid the Martians in London by navigating the city via the vast network of tunnels and sewers underground. Maps of the London sewer and underground rail system might be found by searching what remains of assorted civic offices and libraries (Library Use). Without an adequate map and a compass or other navigational aid then the party stands a very good chance of getting lost in the labyrinthine tunnels beneath London. Navigation rolls may help, but not much in the Stygian darkness beneath the capital. They will need various items of equipment such as lanterns or electric lamps, food, and so on.
Alternatively, if you want to steer them into the tunnels, an attacking Martian could drive them to seek shelter in a nearby tube station or suchlike. In any case their exploration and navigation of the tunnels provides ample opportunity for "filler" encounters, ranging from packs of rats to other subterranean wanderers like themselves.
The party stumble upon a huge swarm of sewer rats, a writhing carpet of filthy fur and glittering eyes. These vermin have grown fat on the death of London, and are bolder than ever, even going so far as to attack humans. 2D3 rat packs attack the party, swarming from the grates and pipes.
While exploring the network of tunnels beneath London, the party will make a shocking discovery.
As they venture through an underground train station, they notice that the place is thick with the dusty residue of the Black Smoke, which must have drifted in during the Martians' initial attack on London. It covers every surface in a layer of clinging sooty powder. Rather than was the case above ground, where the Martians laid the Black Smoke with superheated steam, the dust down here has settled gradually. However, an Idea roll will lead them to realise that there are not as many bodies as one might expect. In fact, there are no bodies at all visible. This is in marked contrast to the state of affairs above ground, where one can scarcely turn a corner without encountering the unfortunate victims of either the Black Smoke or the Martians' deadly Heat-Ray. However, down here, where one would expect to find the corpses of those travelling on the Underground and fleeing the Martian menace above, not a single body is to be found. A Spot Hidden will reveal evidence that the dust has been disturbed since it settled here, implying that the party is not the only ones beneath London. The scuffed tracks lead into the train tunnels, from which an evil odour emanates. A Tracking roll indicates that humans, perhaps barefoot (the marks are so scuffed as to make it hard to tell), dragging something behind them probably caused the marks. The party might wish to investigate this strange matter. Then again they might not. If they decline to investigate, yet remain in the tunnels, they are likely to be ambushed by the mysterious subterranean denizens. If they leave the tunnels, they might still be attacked, during the hours of darkness.
Investigation will reveal that the marks lead down the railway tunnel to a small room off to the side. The foul smell of rotting meat mixed with that of human waste emanates from a manhole in the middle of the room which connects to the sewer network. Entering the manhole, they can splash through the shallow streams of rainwater in narrow tunnels until they come to heavy iron door, which is propped open, revealing another small room which was probably a maintenance area. The floor is strewn with bones and scraps of clothing. A Medicine or Knowledge roll will show that the bones are human, a Spot Hidden will show that they have been gnawed clean, and a subsequent Idea or Medicine roll will tell the character who makes it that they were gnawed by a human. Characters coming to this conclusion lose 1/1D4 Sanity points. Listen rolls will allow characters to notice shuffling, scurrying sounds in the nearby tunnels.
It appears that the Martian Invasion has brought the dark side of some members of humanity to the fore. A section of the population became totally unhinged by the Martians and the scenes of carnage and devastation that have ensued, and descended below ground to seek refuge in the city's sewer network. They have taken to eating whatever they can find, no matter how abhorrent. It is shocking to discover how a few short weeks can reduce man to a savage animal. These pathetic creatures will eat anything from rats and dogs to the decaying corpses of those slain by the Black Smoke, and even live victims if they present themselves. They roam the tunnels beneath London in search of food, and occasionally venture onto the surface after nightfall, to attack the various lone wanderers and hopeless drunkards that now populate the metropolis. They are sad, ragged creatures, pale and filthy, with staring eyes and crouching postures, which communicate in hoarse whispers or guttural grunts. The dirt-encrusted rags they wear indicate that these foul degenerates might once have been workmen, railway employees and engineers, as well as the occasional businessman or traveller, but no longer. Now they are beyond reason, and cannot think further than the next piece of food they might find. If the party venture into the tunnels in a group, and appear to be strong and confident, the scavengers will simply watch from the shadows. Good Spot Hidden or Listen rolls may allow the party to catch glimpses of the scurrying creatures, which will vanish into narrow side tunnels if spotted.
The party will now likely want to leave the tunnels as fast as possible. As they hurry along, a Listen roll will allow alert party members to notice the sounds of soft footsteps following their own, splashing in the shallow water, padding after them on the hard floor. When the party stops, these footsteps also stop briefly. Build up the tension and paranoia.
Should a party member venture off on his own, then 1D6 scavengers will attack him when he is out of sight of the party, dragging him down and inflicting savage bites. If the party make it to the scene in time, they will encounter the hapless party member struggling against skinny, ragged and filthy attackers. Discharging a firearm or shouting at them will cause them to cease their attack on their victim, and bright light, such as from a lantern or electric lamp might make them cower and shield their eyes, unused to such illumination after weeks spent in the gloomy darkness of the underworld. They will quickly scuttle off into whatever dark holes they appeared from, earning the party a brief respite. However, they now know that they party is a force to be reckoned with, and will attack in greater numbers later on. The amount of fresh meat the party represents will prove too much to resist, and they will try to swarm them - 1D4 scavengers for each party member. There are too many of them to kill, although if they lose more than 50% of their number they will break and flee into the tunnels. The best course of action for the party is to hold them off long enough to make a hasty retreat to the surface - Navigate rolls will prove quite important here. Once they emerge, shaken and dishevelled, into the fresh air, the scavengers will cease to pursue them, discouraged by the bright daylight. However, the party is advised to post watch during the hours of darkness.
The party must act to prevent the Martians from signalling their compatriots on Mars to begin the next stage of the Invasion.
Secure in their victory over the empire of Man, the Martians are preparing to communicate the news of their conquest to their superiors on Mars. However, they are facing obstacles posed by the difficulties of communicating over the vast distances of interplanetary space. To enhance their telepathic capabilities, they have constructed an elaborate device, a Telepathic Resonance Transmitter, which will focus their psychic energy. Once they have reported their domination of Britain, Earth's greatest military power, as a beach-head, the second phase of the invasion will commence, in which a mighty armada of cylinders will be launched from Mars to begin the conquest of the rest of the Earth.
During the week prior to the transmission of the message to Mars, the Martians will test their equipment to ensure that it will function correctly. The telepathic broadcasts emitted by the Martians will affect the dreams of humans in the area. They will suffer dreams of Martians trying to speak to them, although the content of the message will be unclear they will pick up on a sense of satisfaction on the parts of the Martians, and anticipation of further conquests. Characters with psychic abilities will get more information. The effect will be similar to that of someone speaking with a chorus of voices saying exactly the same thing but slightly out of sync. The message will consist of the information that the Martians have conquered the primary landing site with minimal resistance, and that they are now ready for the launch of the colonisation fleet. The character will also get the understanding that this is a test of the apparatus, although the emanations will become stronger as time progresses.
The Martians are unable to communicate with their homeworld from Earth, as their innate telepathic abilities simply do not possess the range required. They understood this, and have thus brought with them a complex apparatus beyond the current scope of human science. While psychic phenomena are relatively rare among humans, and thus research in this field has been limited in the extreme on Earth, the Martians are well versed in its practical applications. They have developed a substance, an opaque, misty sort of crystal which, when fashioned in the proper way and placed correctly in relation to a subject, is capable of storing the vibrations of psychic energy from that subject for later use. If an array of such crystals are arranged in a certain manner the psychic vibrations will begin to resonate, significantly amplifying the energy available.
The Martians have a set date on which they will signal their comrades on Mars, which will set in motion the launch of the great colonisation fleet. Attacking before this time will simply mean that the Martians must rebuild their transmitter, a delay of a few more days, when they will once more be able to signal their compatriots. The time of greatest weakness will be when the Martians have patched a large portion of their number into the transmitter, and it has accumulated a substantial amount of psychic energy. They must charge up their apparatus before transmitting is feasible. The Telepathic Resonance Transmitter charges at a rate of 5 magic points per round, so with Mars at its current distance of 120 million miles, they must spend 8 rounds charging it up fully. They may overcharge it, but this is unlikely. As it accumulates psychic energy, the crystals embedded in the structure will pulse with light, at first barely perceptibly, and quite slowly, but the peaks will grow stronger, and the pulses come more frequently until just before the Transmitter is ready to send its communication the crystals will be blazing with white light. They are fully charged, crackling with psychic energy. The air will feel greasy, with coronae of static electricity enhaloing nearby objects with an eery violet glow. The hairs on the skin of nearby humans will stand on end, the blood pound in their ears. Finally, as the transmission is sent they will hear the message in their heads, strong enough to temporarily blot out their own thoughts. Characters failing a POWx4 roll with suffer sudden nosebleeds as the delicate veins are ruptured by the psychic energy.
If this happens, the party have lost.
If the party manage to disrupt the Martians' transmission, this will not be the case. This could occur in a number of ways. The most likely is if the party manage to somehow critically damage the Transmitter when it is highly charged with psychic energy. Damaging the central crystal, smashing several subsidiary crystals, or killing the Controller, the Martian who is actually sending the transmission. In the first two cases, the release of the raw psychic energy will ravage the assembled Martians, while the latter will do its damage by virtue of the telepathic backlash against all those Martians in the surrounding area. Killing any Martians other than the Controller has no effect on the accumulation of energy or the transmission of the message.
Smashing the central crystal or more than four of the smaller crystals will cause the Transmitter to instantly discharge all accumulated magic points in a blast of psychic energy that will wash across the pit, and indeed London. An intangible wall of light will rush in all directions from the Transmitter, while a gout of energy will streak skyward. All Martians present must roll POW against the total magic points accumulated in the Transmitter on the Resistance Table. Reduce the magic point effect by one for each mile that the Martian was distant from the Transmitter. Failure indicates that the psychic shockwave has burnt out their minds, reducing them to a vegetative state. Passing indicates that they are stunned by the blast for a number of combat rounds equal to the total magic points accumulated in the Transmitter at the time of discharge. Humans within a number of yards equal to twice the accumulated magic points will be knocked insensible for a short time, although not permanently damaged. Characters failing a POWx4 roll with suffer sudden nosebleeds as the delicate veins are ruptured by the psychic energy.
Killing the Controller will result in a psychic scream of agony being accumulated, amplified and transmitted by the Transmitter and rolling across the landscape. The Martians, with their highly psychically attuned brains, will suffer from this much more than the humans. The basic effect of this will be to cause all humans within half a mile to lose 1/1D6 SAN, and driving any Martians within a mile insane (reduce INT to zero).
If some party member gets a death wish, they could try to usurp the transmitting Martian, and use all that psychic power for their own applications. It should be noted that mere humans are unable to channel such energies without irrepairable damage to their own minds. While they are in place to receive this power, they may use the magic points in whatever spells they desire. The Transmitter will continue to draw magic points from the patched in Martians until they are all drained of magic points, or killed. Needless to say, while the Controller has been usurped the Martians will be unable to send their communication. The character will be able to use this power for any spell of their own, or they may focus this energy on a single target per round. The target must match POW against the total magic points accumulated by the Transmitter, or their minds are destroyed, burned out by the raw energy. This attack uses up 5 of the accumulated magic points, but these may be reclaimed from any Martians still patched into the Transmitter. When all the Martians patched into the Transmitter are dead or mindless, or have no further magic points to donate, the Transmitter will begin to consume the individual who has replaced the Controller. 5 points are randomly taken from the character's attributes and converted to magic points. Unless the character can disengage (a POWx3 roll), this will continue each round until an attribute reaches zero, at which point the character will die, burnt out by the energies he or she tried to wield. Their death agonies will be amplified by the Transmitter, and will wash across the landscape, causing all humans within half a mile to lose 1/1D6 SAN, and driving any Martians within a mile insane (reduce INT to zero).
If the party manage to stop the Martians before they have sent their message, they have won. Humanity has won a miraculous reprieve.
The outcome of the party's actions, and the repercussions for the destiny of mankind.
If the Martians get their transmission sent to Mars the party have failed, and the Martians truly have won. Several months later the colony pods will land, disgorging countless Martians and their diabolical machines. Even if the original forces were eventually defeated after the message was sent (an unlikely outcome), the British military is weakened, and is no match for this second wave. The Martians will first crush any remaining resistance in Britain before sweeping across the globe, conquering all in their path. Humanity will be subjugated, a slave race useful to the Martians only as labour or food. Pockets of resistance will exist, but they are few and far between. It is a dark fate for all of humanity. It might be interesting to run a campaign with the party playing the part of resistance fighters against the now-victorious Martians.
If the party managed to stop the message being transmitted, the defeat of humanity is averted, and society will begin to rebuild itself. The damaged parts of London will be reconstructed, government will return, and order restored to the Capital of the World. During the three weeks of the Martian invasion, they conquered the entire southeast of England, their rule stretching from the east coast to Southampton, and it is believed they were on the verge of mounting an assault on Birmingham. However, that was prevented. However, society will not get the whole picture. The Martians' death will be believed to have been the result of the actions of terrestrial bacteria, to which they had no natural resistance. Research will begin on the Martians' technology, advancing human science by leaps and bounds, although some brock walls will be met - attempts to dismantle Heat-Ray generators in order to understand them and replicate their effects will lead to disaster in the Ealing and South Kensington laboratories, dissuading further research into that particular branch. The chemical composition of the Black Smoke is still unknown, as is the case with viridigen. Despite the horrors of the Invasion, it will have a positive effect on the destiny of humankind. Nations who might otherwise have directed their energies into petty nationalist hatreds will unite together into a League of Nations, an embryonic World State. The future looks brighter than it might have done had the Martians not put our little squabbles into perspective.
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last updated and validated
May 1, 1999. SHD