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The First Page
The first page of any published manuscript can be an important tell. For some, it's the clue a reviewer needs to get that sinking feeling that will soon be corroborated by the rest of the text. For others, there's something brilliant about it that is about to be proven or given the lie. In this case, it's something of a mix: It's the sinking feeling, given the lie.
Philip Reed, the author and publisher, takes this opportunity to thank a few who contributed to his creation of this work and indulge himself in a short, not-unpleasant poem. Anything involving talking cats (because we all know they do) gets a stamp of approval here. The most noteworthy credit given is to Ron Edwards, who "encouraged [Phil] not to refine the tone of the writing." This is the source of the sinking feeling: Unrefined tone? Unprofessional writing! But, in truth, any fears derived from this source are quickly assuaged by the game's text, which is much better in the semi-conversational tone the author uses throughout.
Interlude One: Layout and Art
There isn't much to say. The layout in vs. Monsters is an effective black-and-white contrast, given a professionally-unfinished, ink-spattered look that is entirely appropriate to the tone of the book. It looks (though is certainly not) as rough-spun and un-completist as the text and game themselves. This feel pervades the product and is doubly reflected in the art, which Mr. Reed proudly claims comes entirely from public domain sources. Unless the man dissembles, he found the best public choices possible for his work. Regardless of the man's veracity, the art wonderfully supports the feel of the game. (Some of it is even eerily familiar. Old tarot card art, perhaps?) The layout and art don't get a lot of other mention in this review, but keep in mind, they are right for the work. Well done.
The World of vs. Monsters
After the near-obligatory admittance that no artist works in a vacuum (a brief list of influences and the like), the author moves on to describe the setting for his game, a region as vague, indistinct, and importantly-so as his writing, layout, and art.
It begins with the Town. The Town is home to no more than 50,000, with thickly-clustered, dark, buildings that always leak somewhere. Although the author takes the time to describe the town - the maze of alleys, the corrupt constabulary, the recent introduction of electric lights and the automobile - he only says enough to paint a faint picture. This is important. The players are expressly forbidden from using the telegraph to communicate with the outside world (it is too expensive, in terms of in-game monies and meta-game ambiance) and they are never able to traverse the mountains that surround the Town, and this is the same thing. This game requires mystery, else it fails. The details ignored are as important - more - as details given. They are to be filled in by the reader's imaginations, and his fears.
To me, the Town is Dark City, from the movie of the same name.
The Village is near the Town. It is small, and its few inhabitants are insular and unwelcoming. The Village is also a place of ill-fortune and the close supernatural. The Town may have its dark, mysterious alleyways and imposing, locked mansions, but the Village is open, unprotected from the elements and the things that haunt the night. Worse, even rescuing a villager from the werewolves, vampires, and whatever else that constantly threaten the Village's inhabitants (yet never seem to destroy them altogether), earns nothing more than an ungrateful stare.
To me, the Village is the small area near the classic "Castle Frankenstein." Aside: The reviewer is actually descended from one Dr. Emil Frankenstein. Readers are invited to whisper and monger rumors.
The Forest and the Church are the other two locations mentioned. The first is a dark, frightening place, where none who value their lives would go. The second is the sole beacon of hope in this place, where the resident priest serves to aid player characters and pray for the thousands of lost souls in the valley. In addition to these two bastions (of evil and good, respectively), there are also innumerable cemeteries, desecrated crypts, and abandoned castles. These dot the landscape or reside in the impassable mountains, as far from the Town as one may go.
Though it's not the most frightening reference, my Forest is that of the Forbidden variety, just outside Hogwarts of Harry Potter fame. The implicit understanding that people just don't go there and the resulting fear fits, for me, and I like the idea that there are occasional, exceptional people who foray into the dark place for secret business of their own. My Church also draws inspiration from Frankenstein, combining the Father with the blind elder, one who might listen to and forgive even a hideous creature.
Characters and Stats
There are few numbers in this game. In fact, this is where readers learn that the bare-bones approach applies also to vs. Monsters' mechanics. The provided character sheet is lovely, a pinnacle of simple-yet-attractive layout and design. Okay, so it's really just a very appropriate mess, but for a game with only five numbers to write down and a little bit more, the author did it right. The sheet fits the look for the game, even if its so simple that printing it out rather than scribbling your own on a blank sheet of paper is like finding your way out of a pharaoh’s tomb rather than going out your front door. Enough of that. Moving on to the meat.
Meat. The author directs players to think of a character ("19th-century") name and then to write down his name (the player's, not the author's). Next comes "blah," the two- or three-word description of the character. Filling in Health (10) follows, then "Stuff," the merits, perks, advantages, flaws, and disadvantages all mixed into one name with the usual two categories: good stuff and bad stuff. Example good stuffs include Attractive, Cunning, Nimble, Tough, and the like. Example bad stuffs are Inexperienced, Old, and Slow. They alter a character's statistics or give them additional capabilities. The mechanic for taking stuff is simple: If you take a good stuff, take also a bad stuff. If you take more than two good stuffs, each additional also lowers one of your attributes by one. Oh yeah, attributes.
There are four of them. They are, like the rest of the game, simple: Fighting, Defending, Thinking, and Running. You get to put six points in one, four in another, and three in the last two. What the attributes actually do should be fairly self-evident. If it isn't, this isn't the game for you.
This chapter ends with a brief system for character advancement. At the end of each session, the GM improves each character's lot somewhat, either by doing away with a bad stuff, adding a good stuff, improving an attribute, or giving them bonus cards to aid in play.
I don't know if it's broken or not, but here's a stretched sample character (statistic only): Health 10, Fighting 2, Defending 2, Thinking 10, Running 3. This uses a good stuff (Cunning) that increases Thinking by one and pairs it with a bad stuff (Old) that decreases Fighting, Defending, and Running by one but increases Thinking by three. Depending on how useful Thinking is, this might make someone able to trick even the most suspicious monsters.
Interlude Two: Equipment
One could point out that this chapter is brief and seems tacked on, but it would be a pointless exercise to reprint what the author himself says plainly. The game could be played well without this chapter, but it is here for those GMs and players who like to know what the characters have.
Equipment falls into one of five categories: Clothing, Transportation, Food, Weapons, and Junk. Obviously enough, Junk is everything that doesn't fall into the earlier categories. Getting equipment takes place at the beginning of the first session. It is based on luck. An unlucky player can end up without equipment, and a lucky poor fellow can buy a cannon. There are good and bad stuffs that alter the odds, and in general a player should get at least some of what he wants.
Mechanics!
Find the deck of cards that your grandmother used to keep in her study. Shuffle it and put it on the table between you and your players. You are now playing vs. Monsters. The mechanic is this: Draw a number of cards equal to the appropriate attribute. Take the highest visible card. If this is higher than or equal to the target number declared by the GM, you succeed. Otherwise, you fail. Used cards go in a discard, and once the draw pile is empty the GM shuffles the discard. Pretty simple. The book proceeds directly to the most important part of the game: Combat.
Initiative is the easiest of any game that uses it: Player to the left of the GM goes first, go in order around the circle, then the GM (monsters and NPCs) goes last. Repeat. There are alternative options offered, but why mess with perfection? Attacking is a simple test. Draw cards equal to your Fighting and compare to the monster's Defending. If any of your cards is equal or greater, you hit. Doing damage, the next step, contains the only displeasing mechanic in the entire game. Not only does it require the player to make an additional draw (one card for each card in the Fighting draw that beat the Defending value), the target is now to draw cards that are equal or less than a value determined by the weapon used. While it does provide a use for low numbers and a reason to hold onto low-value bonus cards (which can be used at any time in play), there's a reason d20 doesn't still use roll-under saves and roll-above attacks - it's an unnecessary confusion. This game, with most of its beautiful simplicity, didn't need this.
The section wraps up with the effects of being wounded (suffering penalties to attributes, or death) and rules for recovery.
"Unnecessary Complications"
Here, Philip introduces a smattering of optional rules that seem, as suggested, completely unnecessary. They are, in order of appearance: fear checks, miscellaneous combat modifiers, tracking ammunition, tracking movement, making multiple attacks at once, called shots, and adding a separate attribute for making ranged attacks. Blech. Don't let them ruin your game, Phil! Keep it pure!
Wrap-up
The next chapter, for GMs, gives some information for NPCs, some adventure seeds, and some tips on ambiance. As always, the information is pleasantly sparse. The final section contains a series of detailed (as much as anything in this game is detailed) monsters. They have the same four attributes as characters and have some additional information useful for running a game with them. Occasionally, they have special powers. Some notable inclusions: the Cthuloid Terrors (and accompanying cultists), the usual suspects (Mummies, Werewolves, Vampires, and Zombies), and the fun Misters. The Misters are the dark businessmen who perform foul deeds quietly and happily in the darkness of their alleys. (The villains from Dark City are good examples.)
Summary
The Good:vs. Monsters is an excellent game of its type: the mechanic-light, narrative- and fun-weighted games. It doesn't even have to be about the story, really: vs. Monsters can easily and quite happily be all about kicking monsters' asses. Furthermore, this was clearly a work of love. Thanks to the tone and style, the author communicates easily in his relaxed manner. This may (but need not) be a beer-and-pretzels type of game, and that's a good thing.
The Bad and Ugly: The villains are bad. The monsters are ugly. The game loses a little of its pure simplicity with the damage system, and Phil really didn't need to include those little extras, but these faults are miniscule and easily repaired, if that is one's desire, for any given game.
If you like simple games, whether for one-shots or long-term games, this is for you. If you like horror and monster-mysteries and aren't dead-set on a game that has a different skill for everything, this is for you. If you like killing monsters, friend, this game is for you.
