The Inside Scoop on Gaming

This is a long review. If you don’t want to wade through my ramblings, here’s the short version – Little Fears is a very good game, its flaws notwithstanding. I would recommend buying it immediately if: a) your gaming group is capable of, and will be entertained by, intense roleplaying; b) you are a GM capable of handling extremely sensitive, hot-button subject matter without becoming a bully or the wrong sort of “creepy”; and c) you’re willing to gamble $20 on a game that will either provide gaming sessions that your group is still talking about years from now, or wind up as a bookshelf game that you pull down occasionally and rave about while your players nod sagely and humor you. My advice is to take that gamble.

The hype around Little Fears started before Origins, and has snowballed since its convention release. The buzz surrounding the game indicates that it can put you in touch with your inner moppet, spark a life-changing catharsis, contribute to your 401(k) plan, and give you a larger or smaller bosom according to need. In other words, Little Fears is one of those games with initial response so overwhelmingly positive that some amount of backlash or disappointment is inevitable as reality sets in and people start viewing it more objectively as a game rather than as the latest high-concept gewgaw with a great hook and a groundswell of support from the community.

I’ve really, really wanted a copy ever since I saw the first banner ad and the love-it-or-hate-it website. I’ve irritated my long-suffering comrades in gaming by hyping it up, with the caveat “but God knows we could never play it with this group.” I’ve cackled over the prospect of Games Workshop picking up a miniatures license for LF (“A Mighty Suzie stomps mightily across the mighty battlefield! Mighty mighty!”), d20 LF, or White Wolf LF (Clanbook: Second Grade). Seth Ben-Ezra’s short story, “Dear Diary,” appeared on the Mystic Ages website and whetted my interest even more. Word trickled in from Origins that LF was the next big thing, and forum posts were almost hysterically positive. By the time I received my copy this week, I was geared up for letdown. Nothing could be as good as LF was built up to be. Right?

I’ll take it from the front and work through, trying not to give too much away.

The Book: 144 pages, a bit smaller in height and width than “standard” gaming books. A significant number of pages are devoted to Moody Art rather than text.

The Cover: The cover is one of those moody bits with some nice evocative drawings, some muzzy photographic stuff, and some scratchings and scrawlings. If you’ve seen Arkham Asylum or Sandman, there you go. Comparisons to Lunch Money are inevitable, especially considering the subject matter. As best I can tell, it’s just convergent evolution. You can probably see the cover any number of places, and I think it’s a good match for the game.

The Disclaimers and Dedication: Not surprisingly, there’s a disclaimer of the “this isn’t real, don’t torch Billy” variety. The book is dedicated, basically, to the lost and wretched children of the world. The dedication, and other “real-life” references in the book, are done tastefully, and don’t come off as self-serving or mere lip service. I suspect that Jason Blair was genuinely affected by the subject matter, and is concerned that it be handled with the proper respect. Good job.

The Story: The story is available on Mystic Ages (http://www.mysticages.com/articles/diary.shtml) Since you can go look at it yourself for free, I won’t go over it here except to say that it’s more wrenching to read about Jenna and her Bunny than all the White Wolf splatbook poseur-narrators in the world.

Intro: Without giving too much away, the situation is this. The Demagogue, a vaguely defined bad guy, rules over Closetland, a locus of the world’s fear. He’s served by minions who can affect the real world to varying degrees. At least some of the horrible things that happen to children are done by the denizens of Closetland. At age 13, people are Blinded to the horrors of Closetland. The only people who can still see, the children, are on their own.

Chapter One – To Be Young Again

Players play children. Regular children. This is a world-class hook. Most roleplaying games, as best I can tell, are based on becoming someone more powerful and vital than oneself. In LF, you’re just a kid, with everything that means. You aren’t a kid with special powers, or a mutant kid, or a Space Marine kid. Some kids might be Guided, or Haunted, but this has more of a narrative effect. You don’t toss fireballs.

There’s some advice here on how to play a kid, so you don’t end up going “ga ga goo goo” while playing a 10-year old. This is moderately useful.

Character generation is set up around a questionnaire, and a character sheet that looks and feels a lot like a crumpled-up theme essay. Questions cover your physical characteristics, and such things as what adults you trust, what you want to be when you grow up, what your most prized possession is, and so on. This works. By the time you’re done deciding on your kid’s personality and appearance, you’ve gone a long way towards immersing yourself in the game.

Stats are Smarts, Muscle, Hands, Feet, and Spirit, on a closed scale from 1 to 6. You also have Virtues – Soul, Innocence, and Fear – and Qualities, which are basically advantages and disadvantages, like Asthmatic, Glasses, Favorite Child, etc. Your Stats and Virtues can be modified at generation using some “playaround points.”

The base game mechanic is to make a stat-based Quiz for unopposed rolls or a stat-based Test for opposed contests. For a Smarts Quiz, you try to roll under your Smarts on a d6. If you have certain Qualities, you roll an extra die, and keep either the better or the worse of them depending on the Quality. For opposed Tests, you’re rolling against an opponent’s stat while they roll against yours (re-roll stalemates). If you’re rolling damage, you factor in how strong a character is and what weapon is being used (note: don’t get shot). These are basically the mechanics of the game, and they look pretty intuitive. I can see Tests getting a bit clunky between two characters who are both very good or both very bad at something, since you re-roll stalemates. Even so, the mechanics are very rules-light, and it’s obvious from the start that the GM will have to make a lot of judgment calls. That shouldn’t be a problem, as I doubt anyone was expecting GURPS.

Fear checks are a big part of the game, and are basically Spirit Quizzes. If you fail, you might stand and gibber, or run away, or become paralyzed, or wet yourself. Spirit is therefore a key Stat, as you’re going to make Fear checks early and often.

I half-expected LF to be like a pint-sized Aberrant, with moody little kids wielding psychic powers. I was pleased to see that it’s not like that at all. A PC kid might be smart, or tough, or spooky, but he’d still better run from a bigger kid. This, I think, is what separates LF from other “horror” or “terror” games. In most games, even Call of Cthulhu, you’re playing a proactive, above-average character. You can affect your environment in a significant manner, even if there are consequences. In LF, you’re a target, plain and simple. You’re weaker and scareder than everything else out there, and any hope you’ve got comes from finding the courage to overcome that. A burbling voice speaking atrocities from under your bed is pretty terrifying, but it’s positively hellish when you’re just a kid.

Chapter Two – The Virtues of Childhood

The Virtues are Soul, Innocence, and Fear, each scaled from 1 to 10.

Soul starts at 10, and can be lost through “the Darkening” (not going to spoil that one). It can be regained through acts of faith, not necessarily religious. As your Soul creeps down towards 0, bad things start to happen.

Innocence is primarily dependent on age – each year, you grow less Innocent until you go Blind at 13. You lose Innocence through the passage of time, through trauma or abuse, or through doing bad things yourself, which doubles the loss. There’s no way to regain Innocence once it’s lost, and once it’s lost, you’re Blind. There are individuals, the Vestal, who retain their Innocence beyond age 13 – these are the simpleminded, the insane, or the sheltered, and Closetland considers them under continual Open Season. There are also those who go Blind before age 13, and Closetland can still get to them ... the kids don’t know what’s happening to them, and may invent stories about adults by way of rationalization.

Fear starts at 0, and is gained through failed Fear checks or possession. Again, acts of faith will lower Fear points, though it isn’t easy. Build up too much Fear, and your kid starts getting seriously weird.

The Power of Belief section details how kids’ beliefs, for better or for worse, factor into their fight against Closetland. In dire moments, kids’ fear and belief may combine to imbue mundane items (protective stuffed animals, blanket shields) or rituals (prayers, monster songs) with potency against the denizens of Closetland. On the flip side, kids’ fear and belief may also combine to give Closetland power over this world. Whenever Belief fails, kids inch that much closer to loss of Innocence.

Chapter Three – Keeping the Kids in Line

This is advice on running LF as a campaign, and is probably useful, as this is ground that hasn’t really been covered before. The single most important thing here is the author’s admonition to know your players, and establish boundaries and expectations in advance. Stories may be told where children are brutalized or raped (for God’s sake, make this off-camera). This is not a funny game. I hope that any GM running LF pays attention to the author’s constant admonitions to be responsible and mature, because the potential exists to, in technical terms, screw with players pretty badly.

There are three recommended styles of play – Faery Tales (Hansel and Gretel), Scary Stories (Monster Squad, Salem’s Lot), and True Horror (visceral, bad stuff). My opinion is that LF shines as a True Horror game, but that this style of game will require a level of maturity and roleplaying that a lot of people either aren’t capable of, or more likely aren’t comfortable with. Put it this way – if your gaming sessions produce more in the way of loud “eww, gross” than quiet “oh, no,” then carefully consider how and if you want to run LF. Things could quickly get disturbing for the wrong reasons if things aren’t handled delicately.

I understand that there are Little Fears LARPS germinating. The only thing I have to say about that is OH MY GOD. And post pictures.

There are also notes here on how Closetland would use the information on the character sheet against a kid – very useful – and on how to play a grown-up authority figure. That’s probably new ground for a lot of us. There are stats for three grown-up archetypes, and you could generate more in seconds.

The Divine Host gets a few paragraphs. They’re the good guys, the guardian angels, but they can’t directly oppose Closetland. There will be more on them in an upcoming supplement, and I frankly don’t find them that exciting. The atmosphere is more stark and terrifying if the kids don’t have anyone to rely on but each other. Maybe the new stuff will prove me wrong when it comes out.

Hand-me-downs, or kid magic items, are briefly detailed. They’re power-ups, plain and simple, and I hate them. There are only a few, and your mileage may vary. I’m ignoring them.

Chapter Four – Behind the Door

MILD SPOILER WARNING!

Warning notwithstanding, I’m not going to give much away. I think, though, that players will have the most fun if they know absolutely nothing about Closetland at the beginning.

Closetland is basically Kid Hell. Sometimes you might be carried there by the Closet Monster or the Thing Under the Bed. You might enter voluntarily to retrieve your teddy bear or your little sister. Getting out is not easy.

There are writeups here for the Demagogue and his minions. The minions range from cool (Rael-Schol) to familiar (the Bogeyman, Baba Yaga) to just messed-up (the Defiler, Patchwork). Most of these are meant to be background figures, as a kid just wouldn’t stand a chance.

There are also monsters that kids can fight and stand a chance against – vampires, mummies, werewolves, Closet Monsters, and weirder stuff. The monsters don’t have stats. There’s no “I crit for 17 with my woobie of slaying.” The kids have to figure out how to kill the monsters, just like in the movies. The GM gets to adjudicate things using the story’s internal logic. If kids are attacked or chased by monsters, they roll Quizzes to try to resist. All I can say about this is that the GM better be prepared to make stuff up on the fly, and that a kid is going to get obliterated quickly unless the GM handles combat from a storytelling standpoint, i.e., gives the kids a fighting chance.

I do have one quibble. Vampires turn to stone when exposed to light. Um, how does the most Blind adult rationalize that one away? “Say, Johnson, that’s a hell of a new lawn ornament you got there.”

Chapter Five – Spooky Stories

These are scenario ideas, which can be run according to the style of campaign you prefer. The ideas are presented as just that, “ideas.” You’ll still have to do the work. Some of them will play out very nasty, particularly the “Hide and Go Seek” story.

A Note from the Teacher

Designer’s notes. For once, worth reading.

So that’s what’s in the book.

GOOD:

The hook – you’re kids, and Hell wants you. As I said before, I think this game has the potential to produce some of the best gaming sessions ever.

The approach – it’s got to be hard as hell to figure out a way to present material like this without being maudlin, or sick. Jason manages almost without exception to tread the line. This is an admirable handling of the material.

The implementation – character generation does a great job of immersing players in the game. Monsters don’t have hit points. Kids don’t throw fireballs.

The art – some of the art is really, really good.

BAD:

The hook – LF is destined, I think, to be bought by many and played by few. The subject matter and roleplaying requirements narrow its scope to the point that the people mature enough to play it probably have kids of their own, and if you have kids, you might not want to game this stuff. Ever. That said, even if you never play it, it’s probably worth the $20 as a good read and as an example of innovative design and responsible presentation.

The proofreading – there are all-too-frequent sentence fragments, and misspellings, and spots where material from previous drafts was only partially deleted. The fragments aren’t a big deal, as the tone of the writing is conversational, and people use fragments intentionally all the time. Myself included (heh). The misspellings and mis-edits are a bit more distracting, but not enough so as to be maddening. Key 20 isn't a huge operation, and I'm sure Jason Blair had to wear many hats, but a more thorough proofreading would have been nice. There's always second edition.

The art – some of the art is clunky. Not GURPS-level bad, but clunky. I’m not going to mention any names, because I myself can’t draw a straight line with a T-square.

OVERALL:

If you suspect at all that this game might be a good buy for you, it probably is. It really is a special game. It’s not for everyone, though. I’m considering running a couple of sessions for my wife, who has never roleplayed (at least not with dice, hee hee. j/k, kind of). I think, though, that it might be too heavy. It might not feel like a game to some people.

The kind of campaigns that would make best use of LF are going to be incredibly difficult to do well, and you’re going to have a lot of uncomfortable moments, intentional or unintentional. LF will also benefit from a second printing to correct some of the editing and proofing snafus. Flaws and constraints aside, though, I consider my $20 ($30, actually, with rush shipping) to be well spent, whether or not the game ever gets played.

Oh, and if you want source material for the Defiler, go rent “Happiness.” It’s one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, but man.

Little Fears
Little Fears Capsule Review by Scott Driver on 26/07/01 Style: 4 (Classy and well done) Substance: 5 (Excellent!) Very good, very hyped game with great hook, great potential, minor flaws. Product: Little Fears Author: Jason L. Blair Category: RPG Company/Publisher: Key 20 Publishing Line: Cost: $20 USD Page count: 144 Year published: 2001 ISBN: SKU: Comp copy?: no Capsule Review by Scott Driver on 26/07/01 Genre tags: Modern day Horror	This is a long review. If you don’t want to wade through my ramblings, here’s the short version – Little Fears is a very good game, its flaws notwithstanding. I would recommend buying it immediately if: a) your gaming group is capable of, and will be entertained by, intense roleplaying; b) you are a GM capable of handling extremely sensitive, hot-button subject matter without becoming a bully or the wrong sort of “creepy”; and c) you’re willing to gamble $20 on a game that will either provide gaming sessions that your group is still talking about years from now, or wind up as a bookshelf game that you pull down occasionally and rave about while your players nod sagely and humor you. My advice is to take that gamble. The hype around Little Fears started before Origins, and has snowballed since its convention release. The buzz surrounding the game indicates that it can put you in touch with your inner moppet, spark a life-changing catharsis, contribute to your 401(k) plan, and give you a larger or smaller bosom according to need. In other words, Little Fears is one of those games with initial response so overwhelmingly positive that some amount of backlash or disappointment is inevitable as reality sets in and people start viewing it more objectively as a game rather than as the latest high-concept gewgaw with a great hook and a groundswell of support from the community. I’ve really, really wanted a copy ever since I saw the first banner ad and the love-it-or-hate-it website. I’ve irritated my long-suffering comrades in gaming by hyping it up, with the caveat “but God knows we could never play it with this group.” I’ve cackled over the prospect of Games Workshop picking up a miniatures license for LF (“A Mighty Suzie stomps mightily across the mighty battlefield! Mighty mighty!”), d20 LF, or White Wolf LF (Clanbook: Second Grade). Seth Ben-Ezra’s short story, “Dear Diary,” appeared on the Mystic Ages website and whetted my interest even more. Word trickled in from Origins that LF was the next big thing, and forum posts were almost hysterically positive. By the time I received my copy this week, I was geared up for letdown. Nothing could be as good as LF was built up to be. Right? I’ll take it from the front and work through, trying not to give too much away. The Book: 144 pages, a bit smaller in height and width than “standard” gaming books. A significant number of pages are devoted to Moody Art rather than text. The Cover: The cover is one of those moody bits with some nice evocative drawings, some muzzy photographic stuff, and some scratchings and scrawlings. If you’ve seen Arkham Asylum or Sandman, there you go. Comparisons to Lunch Money are inevitable, especially considering the subject matter. As best I can tell, it’s just convergent evolution. You can probably see the cover any number of places, and I think it’s a good match for the game. The Disclaimers and Dedication: Not surprisingly, there’s a disclaimer of the “this isn’t real, don’t torch Billy” variety. The book is dedicated, basically, to the lost and wretched children of the world. The dedication, and other “real-life” references in the book, are done tastefully, and don’t come off as self-serving or mere lip service. I suspect that Jason Blair was genuinely affected by the subject matter, and is concerned that it be handled with the proper respect. Good job. The Story: The story is available on Mystic Ages (http://www.mysticages.com/articles/diary.shtml) Since you can go look at it yourself for free, I won’t go over it here except to say that it’s more wrenching to read about Jenna and her Bunny than all the White Wolf splatbook poseur-narrators in the world. Intro: Without giving too much away, the situation is this. The Demagogue, a vaguely defined bad guy, rules over Closetland, a locus of the world’s fear. He’s served by minions who can affect the real world to varying degrees. At least some of the horrible things that happen to children are done by the denizens of Closetland. At age 13, people are Blinded to the horrors of Closetland. The only people who can still see, the children, are on their own. Chapter One – To Be Young Again Players play children. Regular children. This is a world-class hook. Most roleplaying games, as best I can tell, are based on becoming someone more powerful and vital than oneself. In LF, you’re just a kid, with everything that means. You aren’t a kid with special powers, or a mutant kid, or a Space Marine kid. Some kids might be Guided, or Haunted, but this has more of a narrative effect. You don’t toss fireballs. There’s some advice here on how to play a kid, so you don’t end up going “ga ga goo goo” while playing a 10-year old. This is moderately useful. Character generation is set up around a questionnaire, and a character sheet that looks and feels a lot like a crumpled-up theme essay. Questions cover your physical characteristics, and such things as what adults you trust, what you want to be when you grow up, what your most prized possession is, and so on. This works. By the time you’re done deciding on your kid’s personality and appearance, you’ve gone a long way towards immersing yourself in the game. Stats are Smarts, Muscle, Hands, Feet, and Spirit, on a closed scale from 1 to 6. You also have Virtues – Soul, Innocence, and Fear – and Qualities, which are basically advantages and disadvantages, like Asthmatic, Glasses, Favorite Child, etc. Your Stats and Virtues can be modified at generation using some “playaround points.” The base game mechanic is to make a stat-based Quiz for unopposed rolls or a stat-based Test for opposed contests. For a Smarts Quiz, you try to roll under your Smarts on a d6. If you have certain Qualities, you roll an extra die, and keep either the better or the worse of them depending on the Quality. For opposed Tests, you’re rolling against an opponent’s stat while they roll against yours (re-roll stalemates). If you’re rolling damage, you factor in how strong a character is and what weapon is being used (note: don’t get shot). These are basically the mechanics of the game, and they look pretty intuitive. I can see Tests getting a bit clunky between two characters who are both very good or both very bad at something, since you re-roll stalemates. Even so, the mechanics are very rules-light, and it’s obvious from the start that the GM will have to make a lot of judgment calls. That shouldn’t be a problem, as I doubt anyone was expecting GURPS. Fear checks are a big part of the game, and are basically Spirit Quizzes. If you fail, you might stand and gibber, or run away, or become paralyzed, or wet yourself. Spirit is therefore a key Stat, as you’re going to make Fear checks early and often. I half-expected LF to be like a pint-sized Aberrant, with moody little kids wielding psychic powers. I was pleased to see that it’s not like that at all. A PC kid might be smart, or tough, or spooky, but he’d still better run from a bigger kid. This, I think, is what separates LF from other “horror” or “terror” games. In most games, even Call of Cthulhu, you’re playing a proactive, above-average character. You can affect your environment in a significant manner, even if there are consequences. In LF, you’re a target, plain and simple. You’re weaker and scareder than everything else out there, and any hope you’ve got comes from finding the courage to overcome that. A burbling voice speaking atrocities from under your bed is pretty terrifying, but it’s positively hellish when you’re just a kid. Chapter Two – The Virtues of Childhood The Virtues are Soul, Innocence, and Fear, each scaled from 1 to 10. Soul starts at 10, and can be lost through “the Darkening” (not going to spoil that one). It can be regained through acts of faith, not necessarily religious. As your Soul creeps down towards 0, bad things start to happen. Innocence is primarily dependent on age – each year, you grow less Innocent until you go Blind at 13. You lose Innocence through the passage of time, through trauma or abuse, or through doing bad things yourself, which doubles the loss. There’s no way to regain Innocence once it’s lost, and once it’s lost, you’re Blind. There are individuals, the Vestal, who retain their Innocence beyond age 13 – these are the simpleminded, the insane, or the sheltered, and Closetland considers them under continual Open Season. There are also those who go Blind before age 13, and Closetland can still get to them ... the kids don’t know what’s happening to them, and may invent stories about adults by way of rationalization. Fear starts at 0, and is gained through failed Fear checks or possession. Again, acts of faith will lower Fear points, though it isn’t easy. Build up too much Fear, and your kid starts getting seriously weird. The Power of Belief section details how kids’ beliefs, for better or for worse, factor into their fight against Closetland. In dire moments, kids’ fear and belief may combine to imbue mundane items (protective stuffed animals, blanket shields) or rituals (prayers, monster songs) with potency against the denizens of Closetland. On the flip side, kids’ fear and belief may also combine to give Closetland power over this world. Whenever Belief fails, kids inch that much closer to loss of Innocence. Chapter Three – Keeping the Kids in Line This is advice on running LF as a campaign, and is probably useful, as this is ground that hasn’t really been covered before. The single most important thing here is the author’s admonition to know your players, and establish boundaries and expectations in advance. Stories may be told where children are brutalized or raped (for God’s sake, make this off-camera). This is not a funny game. I hope that any GM running LF pays attention to the author’s constant admonitions to be responsible and mature, because the potential exists to, in technical terms, screw with players pretty badly. There are three recommended styles of play – Faery Tales (Hansel and Gretel), Scary Stories (Monster Squad, Salem’s Lot), and True Horror (visceral, bad stuff). My opinion is that LF shines as a True Horror game, but that this style of game will require a level of maturity and roleplaying that a lot of people either aren’t capable of, or more likely aren’t comfortable with. Put it this way – if your gaming sessions produce more in the way of loud “eww, gross” than quiet “oh, no,” then carefully consider how and if you want to run LF. Things could quickly get disturbing for the wrong reasons if things aren’t handled delicately. I understand that there are Little Fears LARPS germinating. The only thing I have to say about that is OH MY GOD. And post pictures. There are also notes here on how Closetland would use the information on the character sheet against a kid – very useful – and on how to play a grown-up authority figure. That’s probably new ground for a lot of us. There are stats for three grown-up archetypes, and you could generate more in seconds. The Divine Host gets a few paragraphs. They’re the good guys, the guardian angels, but they can’t directly oppose Closetland. There will be more on them in an upcoming supplement, and I frankly don’t find them that exciting. The atmosphere is more stark and terrifying if the kids don’t have anyone to rely on but each other. Maybe the new stuff will prove me wrong when it comes out. Hand-me-downs, or kid magic items, are briefly detailed. They’re power-ups, plain and simple, and I hate them. There are only a few, and your mileage may vary. I’m ignoring them. Chapter Four – Behind the Door MILD SPOILER WARNING! Warning notwithstanding, I’m not going to give much away. I think, though, that players will have the most fun if they know absolutely nothing about Closetland at the beginning. Closetland is basically Kid Hell. Sometimes you might be carried there by the Closet Monster or the Thing Under the Bed. You might enter voluntarily to retrieve your teddy bear or your little sister. Getting out is not easy. There are writeups here for the Demagogue and his minions. The minions range from cool (Rael-Schol) to familiar (the Bogeyman, Baba Yaga) to just messed-up (the Defiler, Patchwork). Most of these are meant to be background figures, as a kid just wouldn’t stand a chance. There are also monsters that kids can fight and stand a chance against – vampires, mummies, werewolves, Closet Monsters, and weirder stuff. The monsters don’t have stats. There’s no “I crit for 17 with my woobie of slaying.” The kids have to figure out how to kill the monsters, just like in the movies. The GM gets to adjudicate things using the story’s internal logic. If kids are attacked or chased by monsters, they roll Quizzes to try to resist. All I can say about this is that the GM better be prepared to make stuff up on the fly, and that a kid is going to get obliterated quickly unless the GM handles combat from a storytelling standpoint, i.e., gives the kids a fighting chance. I do have one quibble. Vampires turn to stone when exposed to light. Um, how does the most Blind adult rationalize that one away? “Say, Johnson, that’s a hell of a new lawn ornament you got there.” Chapter Five – Spooky Stories These are scenario ideas, which can be run according to the style of campaign you prefer. The ideas are presented as just that, “ideas.” You’ll still have to do the work. Some of them will play out very nasty, particularly the “Hide and Go Seek” story. A Note from the Teacher Designer’s notes. For once, worth reading. So that’s what’s in the book. GOOD: The hook – you’re kids, and Hell wants you. As I said before, I think this game has the potential to produce some of the best gaming sessions ever. The approach – it’s got to be hard as hell to figure out a way to present material like this without being maudlin, or sick. Jason manages almost without exception to tread the line. This is an admirable handling of the material. The implementation – character generation does a great job of immersing players in the game. Monsters don’t have hit points. Kids don’t throw fireballs. The art – some of the art is really, really good. BAD: The hook – LF is destined, I think, to be bought by many and played by few. The subject matter and roleplaying requirements narrow its scope to the point that the people mature enough to play it probably have kids of their own, and if you have kids, you might not want to game this stuff. Ever. That said, even if you never play it, it’s probably worth the $20 as a good read and as an example of innovative design and responsible presentation. The proofreading – there are all-too-frequent sentence fragments, and misspellings, and spots where material from previous drafts was only partially deleted. The fragments aren’t a big deal, as the tone of the writing is conversational, and people use fragments intentionally all the time. Myself included (heh). The misspellings and mis-edits are a bit more distracting, but not enough so as to be maddening. Key 20 isn't a huge operation, and I'm sure Jason Blair had to wear many hats, but a more thorough proofreading would have been nice. There's always second edition. The art – some of the art is clunky. Not GURPS-level bad, but clunky. I’m not going to mention any names, because I myself can’t draw a straight line with a T-square. OVERALL: If you suspect at all that this game might be a good buy for you, it probably is. It really is a special game. It’s not for everyone, though. I’m considering running a couple of sessions for my wife, who has never roleplayed (at least not with dice, hee hee. j/k, kind of). I think, though, that it might be too heavy. It might not feel like a game to some people. The kind of campaigns that would make best use of LF are going to be incredibly difficult to do well, and you’re going to have a lot of uncomfortable moments, intentional or unintentional. LF will also benefit from a second printing to correct some of the editing and proofing snafus. Flaws and constraints aside, though, I consider my $20 ($30, actually, with rush shipping) to be well spent, whether or not the game ever gets played. Oh, and if you want source material for the Defiler, go rent “Happiness.” It’s one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen, but man.