First off, for those who don't know, Mutant Chronicles is a roleplaying game with a rich and sordid history going back to the early nineties when Target, a Swedish gaming company decided to take a poke at the dark and grim techno fantasy market pioneered by Games Workshop's Warhammer 40000.

Mutant Chronicles tells the tale of the great corporations after they abandoned Earth and nuked it hard on their way to the inner planets which they terraformed and subdued to their will.  The greatest human city is Luna with San Dorado on Mars coming in second.  Eventually corporate infighting led to the unleashing of an ancient evil bound in the strange ruins on Pluto and the founding of a universal spiritual order known as The Brotherhood.  Due to the insidious influence of The Dark Symmetry computer use is proscribed (but not unknown giving us a decidedly analog future.  On the whole it's a much smaller dark and grim future of more personal horror.

I sometimes describe Mutant Chronicles as Buck Rogers verses Hellraiser.

So, I ran the Mutant Chronicles rpg for the first time today. I ran the old one a bit about twenty years ago. I pregenerated five characters and found the new system a bit on the busy side for my tastes but I already knew that from reading the rule book. This just cemented my opinion. That said, as a player who was only making one character it probably wouldn't seem so bad and the detail it layers in would be fun. Top tip, save two life points to pick your first career and another if you want to pick your corporate allegiance, spend the rest on stats.

 The players chose a Brotherhood Mystic, Brotherhood Inquisitor, and a Mishima Triad Enforcer. In the beginning the Mystic and Inquisitor have been sent to a minor chapel in a rough part of San Dorado on Mars because the doddering chaplain has been sending in reports of heresy and iniquity on an almost daily basis. The morning after they are sitting at breakfast with the chapel's chaplain, two functionaries, and four security guards. The Mystic asks the functionary to his left what he feels the greatest problem they face is and told that the people are insufficiently afraid and if only they could be shaken out of their stupor things would get better. He then asked the guard on his right what he sees as their greatest problem. "Too much fear," he responds, "I pray every day for the strength to go on but I know I won't make it to the end, fear weakens me as it weakens all of us."

The chaplain then calls the Mystic and Inquisitor over to himself and informs them that there is to be a protest at the local primary school today and he would like them to investigate as heretics are often at the root of dissatisfaction among the masses. They decide to leave immediately.

 Out on the street, the Enforcer and his junior associate have just finished shaking down a local grocer. The man say's they're cheaper than the local police force and give better service at any rate. The triads are moving into this neighbourhood and while there are no official connections with Mishima corporation there will repercussions from Fukido if the venture is not profitable. The Enforcer notices that there are two men in suits across the street and one on either side of him down the sidewalk. It is early in the morning but there is significant foot and street traffic. He decides to force his way into the crowds and try to evade the potential rivals or police. This ploy succeeds but the four men are definitely following them, even breaking into a run when they reach clear spots in the traffic.

 As the Inquisitor and Mystic exit the chapel, the Enforcer and his associate rush up the stairs. The Inquisitor demands, "What do you want here!"

The Enforcer responds, "We want to learn about the light."

 "Not likely," the big guy in a crisp navy suit announces as he mounts the steps, "they're suspects in an investigation into gangs that are moving into our corporation's territory."

 "And who are you and what do you want," the Mystic asks.

"We're with the Capitol Security Service," mister big suit says flopping out a wallet full of badges, certificates, and credentials. "We just want to take them a nice alley way and vigorously question them about their superiors," he continues as two of his companions jog up. The fourth well dressed fellow went back to get the car. You don't leave a nice car like that just sitting there for very long in a neighbourhood like this.

"Well," says the Mystic to the Enforcer, "we are on our way to investigate a protest at the local primary school. Come with us."

The CSS men aren't happy with this but aren't looking to pick a fight with The Brotherhood, so they follow along to find out what the Mystic is up to.

 The streets are filling up with people walking in the direction of the public school. Many are carrying signs that say things like "THINK OF THE CHILDREN" and "FORTY FIVE IS FORTY TOO MANY."

The school is a large and architecturally beautiful building that dominates a full block to which haphazard additions have been made until only the front steps speak to the grand vision to which it was raised in better days and only a small field with some broken down playground equipment lies in the shadows on one side. The crowd is already nearly a thousand strong and spilling out of the grand entryway onto the road. Two police officers are attempting to control the unruly mob to no avail.

 The Inquisitor approaches a bystander and asks what the problem is. The broad fellow responds, "The student death rate is up twenty percent this quarter, this is our school and these are our children and forty five is just too many to overlook. We've written to the board and even head office and got nothing but empty apologies and reassurances that a committee is looking into our concerns. The science teacher electrocuted a kid in front of his whole class yesterday and we've had it, they can't sweep this under the rug anymore. It's gonna be headline news today and then we'll see some action taken."

The Mystic then proceeds up the steps and tries to mollify the crowds, "You all need to calm down, surely the wheels of action are in motion and things will not get better with you rioting in the streets." A demagogue in the crowd shouts back, "We're supporters of The Brotherhood! We attend our services and make donations! You should support us not them!" The Enforcer starts trying to rile up the crowd to help him escape the CSS agents. The crowd, however, begins to settle down. Then there is a rapping from the door and the Mystic looks back to see a severe looking woman gesturing for him to come in. He turns to enter and the demagogue cries, "The door's open," and the crowd surges forward. The woman slams the door shut behind him and snaps the security bolt into place as angry men and women crash into it pounding with their fists and kicking with booted feet. She brandishes a Piranha hand gun and the crowd recedes. The Enforcer remains, leaning against the wall beside the door while fishing around in his B&E kit for a few things.

 Outside, the Inquisitor fires a warning burst into the air. The crowd turns and well over half start drawing firearms. One of the police officers is shoved out of the mob but his side arm and night stick are missing and he looks pretty roughed up. The other is nowhere to be seen. She (did I mention our Inquisitor is female?) mounts the steps and commands the crowd to appoint a spokesman and she'll get him inside. They push forward a massive bald man with arms like pythons and a heavy infantry tattoo. The Inquisitor knocks on the door and the severe woman lets him and the spokesman inside.

 She returns to explaining the school's side of the situation. "So with ten thousand students running in three, eight hour shifts and teachers working twelve hour shifts there have been increased incidents, even increased disciplinary measures have failed to control the situation but the vast majority of those are the fault of the children. If they were where they were supposed to be doing what they should be they'd still be with us. We're sad, of course we are, but our job is to keep getting these children the education they'll need to survive in today's cutthroat work force."

 "I wanna talk to the principal," the spokesman grunted.

"The principal is off shift right now and the school is in lock down. We've opened up the office arms locker and given the janitors shotguns and pistols to the teachers if they didn't have one already. You can talk to the vice principal when he gets off the phone with the police commissioner," the severe lady snaps, "You people are just making the situation worse for everyone. You should go out there and tell them all to go home!"

Outside the Enforcer pops the lock and after glancing around for his associate who's lost in the crowd, slips into the school like a ghost.

 The Mystic and the Inquisitor push their way past the severe secretary into the small vice-principal's office. He's demanding that something be done in a breathless nasal voice when he looks up and seeing the Inquisitor, gives a frightened little squeak. "I have to go, a crisis has arisen."

After hanging up, he stammers, "Look, I know things are bad on the whole but we're below our individual quotas and have a very high graduation rates. If you kind brothers would just disperse the crowds there is a blue ribbon panel of educational experts looking into the situation. It takes time for things to move through the system. After-all, there's a war on." After fiddling with some papers on his desk he continues, "See! Discipline related deaths are only at twelve, and accidentals are at thirteen, physical education nine, bullying eight, and peanut butter at three why do people insist on sending that poison into school with their children?"

The Inquisitor looks down, "peanut butter, did it kill the child who brought it or did they trade it to another?"

 "Yes, the janitor got some on him while cleaning up and had a reaction, he began swelling and violently attacked the lunch monitor, I had to shoot them both and caught a child in the blast from my shotgun. We had to cleanse lunch room eleven with the fire suppression system. Peanut butter kills." After pausing briefly he looked at the spokesman with a withering glare, "I don't know what more you people think we can do! We work twelve hour shifts with classes of sixty children or more for a minimal wage and two weeks of unpaid vacation and have to take home marking and professional development work just to keep up."

The spokesman, quailed for a moment before the figure of childhood authority's tirade, then drew himself up, "Well you can end that Hutchkinson woman's tenure immediately for starters, she's responsible for seven of the disciplinary deaths all by herself, she hates kids and beats them just for spite and won't call for help when they're really hurt."

 "I'm sorry but it's out of the question. She is as you said, tenured. We can't get rid of her but her total student deaths are down from last quarter if you consider the accidentals from students who fell out the window, back when her room was on the fourth floor. And don't think of trying to take matters into your own hands, better men have died trying, she's been teaching for almost a century and her husband was a Sea Lion at Graveton."

 "And we want the playground fixed up, how many accidentals are kids who bled to death or got impaled on the broken implements? We already pay for janitors, at least have them grind down the rough edges and paint over the rusty parts every year."

 "I'm afraid we can't. The janitor's contract doesn't permit hazardous material work, nor does our liability coverage. And the teacher's contracts clearly show that children run, jump and play at their own risk. In any case, I'm not sure that even air support would help to control recess. And of course, if you parents try to come into the school yard to work on the playground it would be considered defacing corporate property and trespassing so that's no good."

The Mystic raised his hand to interrupt, "Is there anything The Brotherhood can do to help?"

 "Actually, now that you mention it, the contract law always gives broad and sweeping authority to The Brotherhood," the vice principal said thoughtfully, "If you could form a supervised work group of lay people from the congregation, then you could bring them into the school yard on an Inquisitorial Mandate and effect the repairs." You see, he said fixing the spokesman with a steely glare, "rational discussion between sensible adults always results in acceptable solutions!"

The Enforce slipped down into the basement, looking for anything of value. Poking his nose into the mechanical room he noted the kerosene cleansing system wired into the fire suppression lines and borrowed a glass bottle which he filled and stuffed a cloth into its neck. Proceeding down the hallway, past the solitary confinement detention cells where dull eyed children waited in the dim light for the school day to end, he found a door labelled, "Steam tunnels, janitorial staff only." Popping the lock he gazed down the black rock lined passage and the peculiar symbols on the walls that pulsed with a dull red light.

 Well that's as far as we got before the rest of the group showed up and we went back to D&D. I'm still finding the system fiddly and cluttered and my players (mostly 17 - 19) found it counter-intuitive, but maybe that will change as we play it.