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The name’s Davenport. I review games.
So the other day I figured I’d take me a break from reviewing and just watch the boob tube.
Thing is, in this biz, the surest way not to take a break is to try takin’ a break.
When I first saw a big eye on the set, I just figured I was just watchin’ CBS… but then the big eye starts talkin’. To me.
“Greetings, Citizen!” says the eye. “Your Mandatory Bonus Duty for this daycycle is the reviewing of Paranoia XP!”
“Paranoia XP?” I says. “That the game with the mutants and the Commies and the six-pack of clones for the PCs ‘cause they die so damn fast?”
“Correct, Citizen!” says the eye.
Well, you can bet I was rubbin’ my hands together at that news, talkin’ eye or no talkin’ eye. I’d never had the chance to take a crack at that game’s older siblings, and I wasn’t about to miss the boat on this one.
“Great!” I says. “So, let’s get down to business. You gonna just mail me a copy of the book, or just ‘beam’ it over, or what?”
“All rules-related data is classified, Citizen!” says the eye. “Possession of the rulebook is Treason!”
“…Oooo-kay… So, if I can’t have the book, how can I tell folks how the game works?”
“Disseminating knowledge of classified information is Treason, Citizen!”
“So… I can’t review the game…?”
“Refusal to accept a Mandatory Bonus Duty is Treason, Citizen!”
(This is what we in the biz call a “problem client”.)
“Okay…” I says. “You need to root out these traitor guys, right?”
“Correct, Citizen!”
“And readin’ the rules is treason, right?”
“Correct, Citizen!”
“Alright, then. Send me the book and let me write the review, all chock full of treasonous info. That way, you’ll know who the dirty Commie traitors are just by who reads the review.”
The eye was quiet for a sec while it mulled this over. (Or maybe it was just stoppin’ to munch on a sammich or somethin’. Who knows?)
“Agreed, Citizen! Your copy of the rulebook will arrive in 3.725 daycycles!”
Of course, this means that if you’re readin’ this, you’re a “Traitor”. Sorry, pal. I’ve told you people what a tough gig this is.
Anyway, here’s the review. Try to leave a pair of smokin’ boots behind…
Substance
Paranoia XP divides the rules and setting information into three sections: a Player Section, a GM Section, and a Sourcebook. Everyone’s welcome to read the first section, but players reading the latter two won’t just be putting their enjoyment of the game at risk – they’ll be putting their characters at risk.
You see, players exhibiting knowledge of GM-only information – which includes the vast majority of the game mechanics, by the way – make their characters subject to summary execution.
That’s right: in-character consequences for out-of-character actions. If that bothers you, this may not be the game for you.
Initially, I’d planned on breaking the review down by the aforementioned sections. Unfortunately, all the re-visiting of topics from the Player’s Section required to reveal The Truth in the GM and Sourcebook sections made that plan a serious headache. So, I’m going with my alternate “Setting/System” format instead and give you advanced warning before any GM-only material starts up. If you are a prospective player and read that material, I wash my hands of your character’s fate.
Setting
SystemParanoia XP takes place in a massive post-apocalyptic underground (maybe) arcology of undefined size known as Alpha Complex, run by a nightmarish bureaucracy headed up by a well-meaning but thoroughly insane A.I. known as The Computer.
I should mention that the Sourcebook section actually describes the truth behind the history of Alpha Complex – one that is both entirely optional and disposable, but one that does a fine job of explaining the ridiculous bureaucratic and technological status quo with an equally-ridiculous bureaucratic and technological f***-up of apocalyptic proportions. Kudos to the author for not keeping secrets from the GM, even if said secrets are neither mandatory nor vital.
This backdrop creates a darkly humorous setting rather than an outright cyberpunk-depressing one. The exact darkness-to-humor ratio depends upon which of the three play styles the GM chooses. From least to most wacky, these are Straight (think Terry Gilliam’s Brazil), Classic (slapstick parody with a mean streak), and Zap (unrestrained cartoonish insanity, except that nobody gets back up after being crushed/blasted/atomized).
The Computer groups the citizens of Alpha Complex into color-coded clearance levels – from lowest to highest, INFRARED, RED, ORANGE, YELLOW, GREEN, BLUE, INDIGO, VIOLET, and ULTRAVIOLET – each with jumpsuits of the corresponding color. (INFRAREDS wear black and ULTRAVIOLETS wear white.) The convenient color-coding of all areas of the complex makes visual identification of required clearance – and of those in a given area lacking said clearance – a breeze. Clearance levels have nothing to do with competence or worthiness and everything to do with The Computer’s trust in the citizen in question. And that trust isn’t necessarily well-placed, since insanity doesn’t do much for one’s judgment.
The Computer wants nothing more than universal happiness for the citizens of Alpha Complex. It wants this so badly that it keeps most of them drugged out of their gourds. It wants this so badly that it’s taken steps to neutralize potential sources of unhappiness, like sexual attraction and natural reproduction. It wants this so badly that not being happy is treason, along with lots of other things, like being a mutant or unhygienic or a member of a secret society. Traitors quickly find themselves on the wrong end of a laser, preferably leaving nothing behind but a pair of smoking boots.
Unfortunately(?), The Computer is neither omniscient nor omnipresent. That’s where the Troubleshooters (a.k.a. the PCs) come in: INFRAREDs who have displayed their loyalty to The Computer by ratting out traitors amongst their colleagues and who have been rewarded by promotion to RED clearance and given the honor of seeking out and destroying Commies, mutants, secret society members, and other traitors wherever they may lurk in Alpha Complex.
Too bad the PCs are all mutants and members of secret societies. Heck, some of them may even be Commies.
So this is the fundamental nature of Paranoia XP: Your character’s job is to seek and destroy people exactly like himself. In other words, he’s screwed. Unless, of course, he manages to earn The Computer’s trust by seeking and destroying other Commie mutant traitors… like, say, his fellow PCs…
TechnologyI’d describe the tech level of Alpha Complex as being just shy of space opera, similar to pre-war Gamma World but even more silly. In addition to omnipresent robots, horribly portable nukes, and laser pistols (standard issue for Troubleshooters) with beams of clearance-appropriate color that can be stopped by clearance-appropriate reflec armor, cloning has been perfected to such a degree that all citizens get six of them as backups free of charge, complete with current memory uploads. (This is rather important, given the attrition rate among Troubleshooters.)
Furthermore, the boys in the lab at Research & Development never stop coming up with fascinating new devices that push the envelope of physics and sanity, and Troubleshooters get the honor of testing them out in the field.
This gives GMs the flexibility to introduce pretty much any sort of insane technology they can dream up, with the added bonus that this technology can (and probably will) backfire horribly.
EconomyOn the one hand, Alpha Complex is all about restrictions and stratification: clearance determines what you can know, what you can eat, where you can go doors and hallways, etc…
On the other, rampant consumerism isn’t just encouraged – it’s essentially mandatory. All services are divided into overall categories (e.g., Armed Forces, Central Processing Unit, Research & Design), which in turn are divided into service groups (e.g., for Armed Forces, groups like the Ammunition Fresheners and the Threat Assessors), which in turn are divided into individual service firms (e.g., for the Ammunition Fresheners, firms like Buffed Bullets and Shiny Happy Projectiles). While service firms may be analogous to competing companies, all of them really do the same things and produce the same products; hence, any “competition” actually involves sleazy sweetheart deals and dirty double-dealings. (Since Troubleshooters often receive side-tasks to accomplish for service firms while performing their main missions, this means that they also may end up as involuntary corporate saboteurs.)
This rampant consumption and competition (however illusory), combined with the black market and C-Bay (The Computer’s online auction site), provide a whole lot more flexibility in daily life (also however illusory) than would a completely regimented economy. And, of course, the chance to get ahead to get more stuff is a lot more appealing than only doing things because The Computer says so. (Granted, that is also a very good reason.)
DrugsDrugs are all over the place in Alpha Complex. In fact, they’re a matter of daily life – a key means of keeping the citizens happy and energetic and passive and so forth. Higher clearance citizens are allowed lower mandatory doses of medication, which means that the newly-advanced Troubleshooters will be experiencing somewhat clear thought for the first time in their lives. On the other hand, The Computer freely force-feeds citizens of all clearance levels whatever drugs it deems necessary to maintain happiness. Both of these facts mean that players get to play characters dealing with any number of altered states of consciousness.
As an aside, one of the drugs constantly provided to all citizens (in theory) suppresses all sexual urges. In essence, all PCs are sexual neutrals by default, rendering cross-gender roleplaying pretty much a non-issue.
TreasonSo many actions (or non-actions) fall under the category of “treason” in Alpha Complex that the PCs would quickly become traitors even if they weren’t all starting out that way. This is, of course, a huge part of the fun: PCs trying to weasel their way out of treason charges, leveling charges of treason at fellow PCs, and choosing between inevitable Catch-22 treason-vs.-treason and treason-vs.-death scenarios.
Character Creation
Skills
Previous versions of Paranoia made use of skills based upon attributes. Paranoia XP takes a somewhat different tack, with six ultra-broad skills – Management, Stealth, Violence, Hardware, Software, and Wetware – taking the place of attributes, and specialties of several varieties filling the more traditional skill niche.
“Stealth” is pretty self-explanatory, covering everything remotely sneaky. “Management” includes all interaction skills. “Hardware” and “Software” mostly retain their standard definitions in this context, while “Wetware” deals with both the physical and mental aspects of living creatures. (Well, and how to make them dead creatures with bioweapons.)
“Violence” is a deliberate thematic misnomer, covering all physical activities rather than just the combat skills that the name implies. Regular readers of my reviews may recognize this as a manifestation of one of my game system bugaboos, the holistic “body” attribute. Yup, it is. For the most part, though, I give it a pass in consideration of the general silliness of the setting. Its use does mean that the “Ninjasaurus Effect” is in play, making bigger and stronger creatures also more deft and nimble, but aside from really big robots and the occasional giant mutant cockroach, this won’t be a problem all that often.
Players can determine the aforementioned skills randomly (1d20/2, minimum 4), use point allocation (40 points, max 10), or simply make them 7 across the board. Then it’s time for vital, common, and narrow specialties. Energy Weapons is the only vital specialty and is equal to Violence + 4. Players can select up to six common specialties, also starting at their governing skills + 4; however, for each common skill selected, characters must have one weakness: a specialty under the same skill that has a flat score of 1 (i.e., not added to the skill score). Players get one narrow specialty per skill at a score of +6 with no corresponding weakness. These skills are really narrow, however – so comically narrow that they’re only likely to be of use in pretty specific circumstances. The system wisely allows players to select narrow specialties during play to give them a boost in a tight spot.
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Playtest: Because the adventure included in the book comes with six Troubleshooters designed with the adventure in mind, character creation didn’t come up in our game. However, I’m going to run through the process myself just to see how well it works. I’m going to assume it’s a Classic game and go completely random, even when point assignment is an option.
I name my character “Bob-R-NCL-1”. His skills and specialties end up looking like this:
Management: 4
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Service Firm
All Troubleshooters continue to work their Service Firms from their INFRARED days; it’s just that now they get called up by The Computer to do Troubleshooty things, likely as not pissing off their superiors and co-workers for the extra workload they leave behind. As such, players randomly roll for their characters’ Service Firms (or have them assigned by the GM) and may take a common specialty associated with that firm without a corresponding weakness.
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Playtest: I roll a 20 on the Service Firm table. If you think that “nat 20” means I made out like a bandit, you’ve got a lot to learn about this game.
In fact, it means that my character is an industrial spy or saboteur. That requires me to roll again to get my actual service group – in this case, Production, Logistics & Commissary – and then roll twice for the service firm, the first determining the firm I’m spying for, and the second, the firm I’m spying on. I end up being an employee of an Inventory Systems Updaters firm who’s been assigned to spy on a Food Vat Control firm. The mind boggles… |
Mutant Power
As previously mentioned, all Troubleshooters are mutants. Players roll on a mutant power table specific to the play style selected by the GM to determine their Troubleshooters’ powers, assuming the GM doesn’t just want to assign the powers himself.
The play style-based tables are as follows:
| CLASSIC | STRAIGHT | ZAP |
| Charm | Adhesive Skin | Absorption |
| Corrosion | Adrenalin Control | Chameleon |
| Detect Mutant Power | Bureaucratic Intuition | Charm |
| Electroshock | Charm | Desolidify |
| Empathy | Death Simulation | Electroshock |
| Energy Field | Deep Thought | Energy Field |
| Hypersenses | Electroshock | Growth |
| Levitation | Empathy | Levitation |
| Machine Empathy | Energy Field | Machine Empathy |
| Matter Eater | Hypersenses | Matter Eater |
| Mental Blast | Machine Empathy | Mental Blast |
| Polymorphism | Matter Eater | Polymorphism |
| Puppeteer | Mechanical Intuition | Puppeteer |
| Pyrokinesis | Mental Blast | Pyrokinesis |
| Regeneration | Pyrokinesis | Regeneration |
| Slippery Skin | Regeneration | Shrinking |
| Telekinesis | Rubbery Bones | Telekinesis |
| Teleportation | Toxic Metabolism | Teleportation |
| Uncanny Luck | Uncanny Luck | Transmutation |
| X-Ray Vision | Ventriloquist | X-Ray Vision |
As for how they work – or fail to work, as the case may be – we’ll get to that in just a moment. For now, I should mention that Troubleshooters can opt to register their mutant powers, in which case their use – in service to The Computer, of course – is not considered treason. The obvious question, then, becomes why all Troubleshooters wouldn’t want to go that route. The answer is one word: stigma. Yes, registered mutants don’t get executed for being mutants, but they are immediately identifiable for the yellow stripes on their uniforms and are the officially-sanctioned objects of ridicule. If I may be forgiven for a particularly dark comparison, imagine Jewish scientists working for the government in Nazi Germany – too valuable to kill but still required to wear the Star of David and subject to official derision.
| Playtest: I roll a 4 on the Classic mutant power table, giving me Electroshock. Since I’m going to want to blend in, being a spy and all, I decide against registering my power. |
Secret Society
Secret Societies in Alpha Complex pursue a wide array of opposing agendas: Computer worshippers and Computer haters, nature freaks and cyber-fetishists, Capitalist Mafiosi and Commie terrorists, etc. As previously mentioned, every PC is a member of a Secret Society, and no PC will start out knowing the society affiliation of any other PC. (Or, technically, even that any other PC is a member of a Secret Society at all.)
In addition to serving as possible sources of contacts, illicit equipment, intra-party conflict, and treasonous side-missions, Secret Societies also give Troubleshooters access to “secret skills”. Some of these duplicate common specialties and have their starting scores determined in the same fashion (albeit without requiring corresponding weaknesses); others aren’t skills most normal and/or non-traitorous Alpha Complex citizens would possess and start at a completely random level determined by a roll of 1d20.
If that seems arbitrary, unfair, and/or unbalanced to you, thereby offending your gaming sensibilities, this probably isn’t the game for you. It ain’t getting any better.
Secret skills come in three varieties, with each society offering one or more secret skill in each category. Some are mandatory and others are not, but a Troubleshooter must take one skill out of each category. These categories include “uncommon” (those most citizens have no reason to learn), “unlikely” (those that most Troubleshooters will never use on a mission), and “unhealthy” (those that are treasonous to know, either at a given clearance level or at all).
Troubleshooters also have a starting degree (rank) in their secret societies, the potential score varying with the chosen play style (from a flat 1 in Straight to a 1d20 in Zap). If that bothers you, please see “arbitrary,” “unfair,” and “unbalanced” above.
| Playtest: Bob-R-NCL-1 turns out to be a member of Free Enterprise. Because he’s a character in a Classic game, I roll 1d20 and divide by 4 for his degree, which ends up being 1. None of the Secret skills available through Free Enterprise have skill specialty counterparts, so I roll 1d20 for the scores in each of them. None of the listed skills are mandatory, so I can either go with the recommended skills listed under each category or choose different skills with GM approval. I decide to go with the recommended skills, which means Haggling for “uncommon”, Advertising & Marketing for “unlikely”, and either Bribery or Forgery for “unhealthy”. (I go with Forgery.) Since none of these have skill specialty counterparts, I roll 1d20 to get the scores for them. Bob-R now has Haggling: 11, Advertising & Marketing: 13, and Forgery: 2. Hopefully he will never have the need to forge anything… |
Perversity Points and Tics
Players start with 25 Perversity points – wonderful, wonderful things for which I will describe the use momentarily. Note that I said “players”, not “characters” – that is intentional. (Well, actually, it was accidental, but then I glanced at the book and saw that “players” was correct, so I’m sticking to my story.) Players can get up to 10 additional Perversity points by taking immediately obvious repetitive behaviors called “tics” – “up to” because the players must assign their tics secretly and reveal them to the GM simultaneously, with the GM awarding 1 point for tics similar to those of another character and 5 points for those that are unique. I love that approach, since it forces players who want more points to earn them with a display of creativity.
| Playtest: Since this requires an actual GM and players, I’m skipping this step. |
Attributes
Did I say characters have no attributes in this game? That’s not exactly true. In fact, they have two of them: Power and Access. The former governs the strength of a character’s mutant power; the latter measures how effectively the character can grease the wheels of Alpha Complex bureaucracy to get things done. In either case, attribute use may or may not result in temporary attribute reduction, based upon the GM’s preference.
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Playtest: Since my hypothetical GM would be determining these scores, I’m now basically done.
Character creation took me less than 20 minutes from start to finish. I could spend credits on personal gear, but given the proclivity of some players to browse equipment lists, there’s no real way to know how much time that would add. On the other hand, bear in mind that the GM would not be spending any time on telling me the rules, because I’m not allowed to know them. That takes a substantial chunk out of first-session game prep time. |
Clones
One of the nigh-legendary aspects of Paranoia, Troubleshooters start the game as Clone #1 of a 6-clone set, with the remaining clones decanted as needed. Depending upon play style, Troubleshooters may be able to purchase additional six-packs of clones. Both the cost and the chance of genetic drift (a.k.a. imperfect copies drifting toward freakishness) increase along with the number of additional clones purchased, although characters with sufficient cash and clearance can have the latter fixed up. This system partially frees players from the fear of character death – thus freeing them up to do the crazy, fun things Troubleshooters really ought to do – while further encouraging Troubleshooters to fight tooth and nail for cash and promotions to ensure their survival in perpetuity.
| Playtest: This aspect of the game played out perfectly for us. A crazed citizen blew himself up with a grenade and took half of the party with him, but the players just saw it as just one more amusing event in a humorous game. In fact, some seemed to take pride in being the first to be on their second clone. Certainly, the event lacked the frustrated player groans I’d expect a multiple-fatality encounter to generate in other games. |
Game Mechanics
Okay, here we go. You are now entering GM-only territory. While I personally don’t think that knowing the basic game mechanics will affect a player’s enjoyment of the game much, officially, they are not supposed to know how the system works. (And, again, their characters can be killed for that knowledge.) So, if you’re a player who wants the full Paranoia XP experience – or, at least, wants to increase the already-slim odds of your Troubleshooter’s survival – read no further.Now… Paranoia XP uses a simple 1d20 roll-under system, the target number equal to the relevant skill along with any bonuses for specialization. A 1 is always a rousing success, and a 20 is always an equally-rousing failure, and the amount by which the player rolls under or over the target number is the margin of success or failure, respectively. Normally, I don’t care for systems with flat scores for major successes or failures (as opposed to those which make the chances of such results dependent upon ability level), but in a game like this, I don’t really care.
But here’s the really ingenious part… Remember those Perversity points I mentioned earlier? This is where they come into play. Like your typical Drama/Hero/Fate points, Perversity points, when spent by the player of a Troubleshooter attempting an action, increase the chance of success – in this case, by lowering the target number on a one-to-one point basis, with a maximum expenditure of 5. However, other players can spend Perversity points to affect the aforementioned Troubleshooter’s target number as well – positively or negatively – also with a maximum expenditure of 5.
In other words, players get to screw each other over.
Furthermore, the GM can decide whether these expenditures must be made publicly or privately – i.e., whether he feels like stirring up shit between players.
But best of all? This Perversity point spending retroactively determines the circumstances of the task. In other words, rather than looking up modifiers as they apply to a given roll, the GM sits back and lets the players collectively determine the net modifier, at which point the GM comes up with a setting-based explanation for that modifier. For example, if a net modifier ends up in the Troubleshooter’s favor, maybe the target of his laser pistol shot slipped out from behind cover due to the sudsy floor left by a passing scrubot. If the same modifier ends up penalizing the shot, perhaps the glitchy experimental A.I. in the laser pistol’s targeting system decides that it would rather be a toaster oven.
CombatSpeaking of laser blasts, the combat mechanics set out to expand upon the basic system while still keeping things fast to the point of utter chaos.
To whit: combat dispenses with “initiative”. Instead, everything always happens at once. Again, I’d balk at this idea in most games, but in Paranoia XP, it seems entirely appropriate. (It might seem a bit out of place in a Straight game, but as I’d be unlikely to play Paranoia in that way, that’s a moot point in my case.)
Characters roll against a target number based on their Violence skill (or the appropriate specialty). On a success, the margin is the damage. Damage tracks have seven stages – (O)kay, (S)NAFU’d, (W)ounded, (M)aimed, (D)own, (K)illed, and (V)aporized – each with its own associated status. Weapon stats express damage in a “Minimum/Boost/Maximum” format. Dividing the success margin by the Boost determines additional damage done by the attack; thus, the lower the boost number, the more deadly the weapon. For example, an attack with a weapon rated W3K that gets a margin of success of 12 would do 12/3 = 4 extra damage steps. That moves the attack from (W)ounded all the way to (V)aporized, but because the maximum damage is (K)illed, the target is only killed. (Lucky him.) Armor ratings reduce an attack’s Minimum damage; however, armor tends to be attack-specific in its protection. A Troubleshooter’s standard-issue reflec armor only protects against lasers, for example.
Playtest: Combat definitely seemed speedy enough. I’d been leery of dealing with the damage mechanic, but the “cheat sheet” chart solved that problem nicely. The first full-blown combat involved a player charging an out-of-control cleaning robot with a force sword. That highlighted the strangeness of the simultaneous attack mechanic, insofar as no matter when the attacking PC reached the robot, according to the rules, they’d both get a swing in at the same time. It just so happened that the robot missed and the player hit, doing enough damage to destroy the robot with one blow. You may note the lack of a defense roll, or even a passive defense score. I didn’t notice that on my first read-through and thought I must have missed it somehow upon re-reading, but nope – those rules don’t exist. I suppose that’s one more bit of streamlining at the expense of realism that doesn’t have much place in the game to begin with, not to mention a further way to encourage Perversity point expenditures, but it may strike some players as excessively silly even by Paranoia XP standards. (And besides, it makes dramatic force sword duels a bit less dramatic if you can’t ever parry, fer cryin’ out loud.) And even given the possible reasoning behind the lack of a parry/dodge mechanic, the reasonable expectation of finding such a mechanic means that its absence warrants an explanation.
Playtest: On a side note, I had the same problem with drug effects. Our group’s Happiness Officer sprayed a fellow Troubleshooter with Gelgernine aerosol (happy gas), and I couldn’t find any rules regarding drug potency or resistance. While I can see the value of leaving the effects of drugs up to the GM and humorous necessity, I’d have preferred to have the rules tell me that’s the way it’s supposed to work rather than leaving me to search for rules that weren’t there. Unsurprisingly, the game uses the same basic system for vehicular combat, substituting vehicle damage levels for their human body counterparts. What is somewhat surprising is the game’s use of that same basic system for playing out accusations of treason, with the accuser’s Management replacing Violence, accusation severity replacing weapon power, corrective measures replacing physical damage, and the target’s Access attribute replacing armor. (Well, in non-Zap games. In Zap games, there’s no defense at all against treason accusations.) In other words, accusing someone of attempting to blow up Friend Computer is a lot more serious than a charge of vandalism, and punishments range from official reprimands to “erasure” (i.e., termination and no more clones, ever).
I was a little confused about this mechanic, since there didn’t seem to be any disincentive from using the most serious accusation possible, all things being equal – as they generally are, since, again, modifiers depend upon Perversity point expenditure rather than such things as the quality of evidence. It seems that the only drawback to using the most serious accusations possible is the fact that accusation failure margins of 10 or more or rolls of natural 20s on the accusation result in the accusation backfiring on the accuser.
Using Attributes and Mutant PowersAs mentioned previously, Access and Power scores are determined by the GM rather than the player. Power starts at a level equal to the roll of a 1d20, minimum 8. Access starts at either a 1 (for Straight games) or 1d20/4 (Classic and Zap games). When trying to get something done, whether through bureaucratic finagling or mutation, make a standard roll. The biggest difference lies in the optional attribute drain roll, which, in keeping with the overall unfairness of the setting, makes the amount of the drain inversely related to the margin of success – really high rolls may result in no drain at all, or even an attribute increase in the case of Power.
And speaking of power, the GM section contains full descriptions of the various mutant abilities, including their inevitable visual cues and possible backfires. The former mean that unregistered mutants risk discovery using even seemingly subtle powers like Empathy (due to glowing eyes, for example); the latter mean that even uses initially going undetected may have some spectacularly obvious, catastrophic, and (naturally) humorous results. Blow a roll while activating Rubbery Bones, for example, and a Troubleshooter may find himself reduced to a flopping, boneless blob.
Playtest: The players have yet to make use of their mutant powers so far in my review playtest game. I suspect that this is due to some combination of their fear of being discovered and their forgetting that they possess the powers in the first place. It’s there that the holistic nature of the Violence skill had a jarring effect. I know that at least one previous edition included a super-strength mutation, but as strength has gone, so has super-strength. Instead, Troubleshooters may possess Adrenalin Control, which boosts Agility and Unarmed Combat to 18 – impressive, but not superhuman – and bestows a completely undefined degree of superhuman strength and speed. As a result, characters with this mutation can lift over a ton but can’t do a correspondingly high amount of damage with a punch. Troubleshooters using this ability suffer the consequences of pushing the human body beyond its physical limits, but these consequences, too, are left up to GM fiat. The end result is a meeting of two design flaws: the molding of the setting to fit limitations imposed by the rules, and designers using GM fiat to get out of having painted themselves into a corner with the rules.
Tension LevelNot a major mechanic, but a clever one, a scene’s Tension Level is a target number indicating the chance that The Computer will notice something the Troubleshooters are up to. If a task roll is equal to or less than the Tension Level, The Computer takes note of the action in question. Of course, given the margin of success mechanic, this means that more skillful Troubleshooters are both more likely to succeed without The Computer noticing and more likely to be doing something in spectacular fashion – including treasonous activities – when The Computer does notice. Fair? Nope. If the game still interests you at this point, presumably you’ve already reconciled yourself to this sort of thing.
As a bonus, the GM can use the Tension Level as the default skill rating for anyone or anything opposing the Troubleshooters.
Introductory Adventure: Mr. Bubbles
(Okay, I’m really serious now: if you are a player and want to enjoy this adventure at all, quit reading now.)(I mean it.)
(No foolin’.)
Paranoia adventures tend to follow a pretty straightforward framework, however awry they may end up going: get the assignment from The Computer or its representatives, get equipped (including any goodies from R&D), possibly get a side assignment from a service firm to perform on the way, go to on the mission, go to debriefing, possibly trade accusations of treason, possibly get terminated. Well, this adventure takes advantage of the rookie status of the players and their characters by giving them a first mission that completely violates standard adventure protocol while making them think that everything is standard operating procedure. A garbled mission alert (okay, so that’s not so unusual), a briefing officer insane with fright, a black market scam posing as outfitting, and a hacker so fed up with email spam that he’s reprogrammed scrubots to kill those responsible all serve to keep the Troubleshooters so far away from their actual first mission that they won’t realize until Debriefing just how off the rails they’ve gone.
Now, in an unusual display of pity to the poor Troubleshooters, they don’t get zapped for going on the wrong mission, and while they obviously get no pay for a mission they didn’t perform, the sidetracking they undergo does provide some credit-making opportunities. So, hopefully, the players won’t feel so screwed over that they don’t want to play again. (Of course, if the players are averse to getting screwed over during an adventure, they’re probably playing the wrong game anyway.)
Playtest: However, my main concern is how well all this chaos translates into an introductory adventure. And I’m really of two minds on this point. On the one hand, the chance of pulling off as beautiful a con as this on the players drops exponentially after they’ve had a “real” adventure. On the other, by its very nature, this adventure doesn’t show new players the ropes beyond some trappings of the setting and the general fact that they will get screwed over at every turn. More importantly, though, it doesn’t give the GM a chance to run through a “normal” adventure before running one that’s totally FUBAR’d. It’s akin to having someone write a parody without being completely familiar with the subject being parodied. From a practical standpoint, I found myself having to continually re-orient myself to what would normally be happening so that I’d have a better idea of what the players and their characters would think was happening. That said, the adventure certainly amused my players and me for the most part, so in that sense, it’s a success.
Style
Comedy RPGs tend to walk a fine line between presenting an amusing setting for the players and just providing amusing reading material for the GM. Paranoia XP walks that line quite well. While not every gag will have you ROFL by any means, most everything’s worth at least a chuckle from both the GM reading it and the players encountering it. And the humor embedded in the rules for the GM’s eyes only manage to be both entertaining and enlightening.
Playtest: The only typo that stuck out to me was the omission of clearance level on some items owned by one of the pregen PCs. The bureaucratic chaos that is Alpha Complex did, at least, give me an in-setting explanation for the “oversight”. Although the book labels every section, subsection, and list, the result, ironically, has the somewhat cluttered appearance of the sort of bureaucratic manual one might expect to find within the setting. The book does include an index, although the necessary division of rules and setting information between the player and GM sections still requires a bit of page-flipping. More troublesome are the aforementioned rules that are absent altogether – if there’s anything worse than page-flipping, it’s page-flipping for information that isn’t there.
The art, near as I can tell, is all recycled from previous editions, consisting of extremely silly cartoons, which works well for Classic and Zap games but probably won’t appeal to those interested in the darker Straight games.
Conclusion
Gimmicky rules have a tendency to make or break a game for me. In the case of Paranoia XP, inspired mechanics like Perversity points and Tension Levels definitely make the game. The combination of comprehensive (if fundamentally simple) rules with requirements for GM fiat – both spoken and unspoken – feels a little awkward, but the game rewards GM flexibility with a system that truly fits the setting.
And this edition skillfully updates that setting, adding new, clever elements without ever straying from the aspects that made it a classic in the first place – something, I’m given to understand, that cannot be said for the previous edition…
So if you’re tired of nauseatingly cooperative play and are ready for some seriously funny backstabbing using a classic setting and simple rules, I heartily recommend Paranoia XP.
Just don’t forget to leave a pair of smoking boots behind.
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