As a relatively new player and a wannabe gamemaster for the roleplaying game Star Trek Adventures, published by Modiphius, I read the rules, watched a few videos, but nothing ever teaches me a game quite like being a player. I pay attention to how a game works from more experienced players, and I really pay attention to a gamemaster who is patient and takes the time to explain everything that we players are doing and can do. ‘Nathan Burgoine is the guy who runs the game I play in, and he’s exceptional. He always offers alternatives and is aware of the talents that our characters have and points out our individual options.
Star Trek Adventures Core Rulebook, by Modiphius
The economy aspect of Star Trek Adventures is something I really didn’t get a feel for while reading the rules. There’s an ebb and flow of momentum and threat. If you’re not familiar with these game terms, momentum are units that you earn that you can spend to increase your likelihood of success in rolling dice, or use to gain more information when you have rolled very successfully. Threat is a unit that you can provide the gamemaster so that he or she or they can do the same thing for the opposition. There is a constant flow of both momentum and threat going on throughout a game session. For this post, I am going to focus on momentum.
One of the key uses of momentum is to increase the likelihood of success when a player rolls the dice to resolve a task. In the Modiphius 2D20 system, a player rolls a base of 2D20 to determine success. They have a target number to meet or roll below, based on two of their combined stats to determine success or failure, and the GM must tell them how many successes on the dice they will need to be successful at the task.
Example: Captain Chamberlain takes over at the helm to make the starship Challenger engage in a fairly tricky approach to the damaged starship Pageant, which is leaking deuterium. The gamemaster declares that the task of flying Challenger in without contacting the deuterium is difficulty two. Chamberlain’s Control score is 11 and his Conn score is 4, so by adding those together, it is determined that he must roll 15 or less on each D20 to earn a success. Since the difficulty is two, he must roll successes on both dice to succeed at the task. Since his chance of success on each die is 3/4, his chance to succeed on both die rolls is 3/4 x 3/4, or 9/16. Yikes, that’s just over 56%. It’s a good thing there’s momentum. In Star Trek Adventures, a player can spend one point of momentum to gain an extra die to add to the chance to succeed. The player can spend an additional two points to gain a second die. A third extra die can be obtained by spending three more momentum, for a total of six momentum, which is the most a player group can bank at any one time. So, basically, you can spend:
1 momentum = +1D20
3 momentum = +2D20
6 momentum = +3D20
For our purpose today, I’m only going to talk about the first momentum spend. Additional spends have diminishing returns that make them debatable. So, in the example above, if Captain Chamberlain spends one momentum to gain an extra D20, his chances of success increase from 56% to a whopping 84% (I’m rounding to the nearest whole percent here, I’m not Spock or Data). Furthermore, he has a 42% chance of getting three successes and gaining that momentum spend right back again. The bottom line is that either he’ll get the momentum back again or he needed it to be successful in the first place, because there was a 44% chance that at least one of his first two dice were going to fail. That means that the chance of Captain Chamberlain failing his roll was nearly the same with 2D20 than the chance that he would get his momentum spend right back again with 3D20, and that makes it a good bet. Now, does this always hold up? Pretty much.
Let’s say your combined scores give you a success number of 12. You have a 40% chance to fail, and a 36% chance to get your momentum back with three successes. Still definitely worth it to me, so my philosophy is always spend one momentum on a task if you have one.
People ask me how, since I’m retired and don’t make comics anymore, do I keep my brain from rotting due to disuse. Well, I have a new hobby. As you may have read here or here, Mego action figures were among my very favorite toys when I was a kid. I just wasn’t allowed to play with them at home. I had written an entire Solution Squad story about eight-inch action figures, and one of my buddies had customized a Radical figure for me, which appears on the cover.
I tried my very best to emulate the blister card from the World’s Greatest Superheroes line that Mego produced in the 1970s, right down to the circles featuring other characters with their names encircling their head shots. It wasn’t easy! Radical’s head was made from a repainted Shaggy (from Scooby Doo) with some scupted hair and beard add-ons. His costume was printed! So cool.
My very favorite Mego was the first one I received for Christmas in 1972, Superman, which you can see young Radical playing with here, in a flashback.
As fun as it was, the Mego Superman’s cape was far too easily frayed. I don’t know whatever happened to my old Mego figure. It probably got tossed during one of our many moves. But I do know that he was well loved and well used, and his cape showed it. A few years ago, I acquired one that was in near-mint condition, and I bought a cool diorama from a buddy who sculpts them out of foam to display him permanently.
The next one I got as a kid, in 1974, was a Captain Kirk figure from Star Trek. When my brother got Spock, we had many adventures together. Both of those figures stayed with my brother when I moved away. But the one thing I always wanted was the USS Enterprise playset. I yearned for it, but it was not meant to be. Well, last summer, I found both. I bought a set of the first series of Star Trek figures released in 1974. Uhura was added in 1975, but was still considered in the first series. They can cost quite a bit in good condition, and these were pristine. They had all their weapons, delta insignias, their hair paint was unmarred, they were just perfect. With one exception; Captain Kirk’s leg was broken at the knee.
Now, I am not a handy person. My grandpa and dad did their best to make sure I was at least competent with tools, and when I was younger, I used to make things in my grandpa’s garage. But I never built models, or worked with glue very much. I always preferred drawing. But, I thought, for the price I’m getting this set ($120), I can at least attempt to repair a Mego leg. I would have never considered it when I was a kid, but then again, we didn’t have YouTube back then. Sure enough, I found a video explaining how to replace a knee pin, which is what was missing from Kirk’s leg.
I replaced the pin from a bag of cadaver Megos I had gotten alongside the Superman a few years before, and ironically, a Superman corpse gave up his knee pin so that Kirk could stand again!
In the end, it really wasn’t complicated at all. But I felt accomplishment, nonetheless. Paying only $20 each for mint (-1) Star Trek figures was really cool. And then when the Enterprise playset popped up for less than $100, I knew I had to have it, finally, after all these years! My shelf looked like a Christmas catalog item from 1974!
In the box for the Enterprise was also an extra Captain’s chair and black stool. I didn’t think too much about them, and just tossed them in a box with my cadavers. We’ll get back to them, though.
I thought that would be the end of the hobby of collecting Megos. But then I found out that Mego was back in business after decades of companies trying to do what they did. I had seen some of the newer figures with their fancy correctly-painted weapons and stuff, I dismissed it. Bah! New things! But then I discovered that they had finally produced Sulu and Chekov figures with their original-looking blue phasers and communicators!
The bridge crew would be complete! And what’s this? The impossible-to-find Romulan figure was being re-released with its red weapons set! I couldn’t have a Klingon on the bridge without a Romulan!
By then, I was in my new office, and had a much better display space for my beloved Enterprise set.
And, I thought, if they re-released the Romulan from the Aliens set from series two, maybe they did the Gorn, too! The Gorn figure, if you are not aware, was perhaps the worst and cheapest figure that Mego produced. There was nothing original about it. It utilized a repainted head from Marvel’s Lizard figure, the body from a Planet of the Apes Soldier, and a Klingon uniform. Parts is parts, right?
But the new Mego did not spare the detail! They made a real Gorn that looked like the one in the show!
Naturally, I had to have one. But where was I going to put it? I ran into my diorama-building friend Mike Sutter at a toy show, and put to him an idea. Could he make Vasquez Rocks for me? You know Vasquez Rocks. It’s a park in California where everything has been filmed, including the episode where Kirk battles the Gorn, Arena.
Well, Mike knocked it out of the park. I even got the new version of Kirk for the diorama.
When I discovered that the new shelves in my office were too narrow for the full diorama, I asked Mike if he could trim them down to nine inches wide. He agreed, and asked what I wanted done with the rest. I asked if he could use them to make another diorama, the Guardian of Forever from the episode, City on the Edge of Forever. And again, he crushed it.
But I didn’t want to move my wonderful Kirk and Spock from the bridge set, so off to EBay I went to buy the cheapest Kirk and Spock I could find. I got the pair for $40, but they didn’t come with weapons. I thought, well, that was hardly relevant to this display, so I didn’t worry about it. But it made me think, how hard would it be to just get a set of weapons? Apparently, much harder than I thought! A vintage weapons belt with the blue phaser, communicator, and tricorder can set you back $50! But I wasn’t done with this piece, yet. I needed another Dr. McCoy figure, and I didn’t want to pay a lot for it. I had just found another Kirk and Spock online for even less than I paid for the first pair, just $25, and I had replaced the new Kirk with the Gorn with the classic Kirk. The Spock figure had problems, though, He had a Type-1 body, and his legs were splaying out like crazy. You guessed it, I found a YouTube video. I ordered some 2 mm elastic cord and bought a crochet hook at Walmart. After two attempts, I had completely restrung the figure, making it as good as new. However, I didn’t need a Spock figure at the moment, so he sacrificed his uniform to go with a Type-2 McCoy body I had in my cadaver box. One of the things Mego saw in the Star Trek line was cheap production. The only difference between a McCoy figure and a Spock figure was the head! The McCoy figure had been a gift from my friend Tracy Edmunds, whose father-in-law had bought it in the 1970s to use as a driver in his model race cars. His head was completely messed up from having helmets glued to it, but his body was in perfect shape. I found a McCoy head on EBay for ten bucks and boom! Instant Dr, McCoy figure. Still no weapons, but the good doctor had lost his phaser in 1930s New York in that episode anyway. And now I have a Type-1 Spock figure in my spare Mego box. When another blue uniform comes along, he’ll be dressed again and I’ll have another nearly complete figure.
While that really wasn’t true customization, just a parts swap, I kind of wanted to try my hand at it. My first attempt was to make my Star Trek Adventures captain, by modifying a new Kirk uniform with fabric paint. It was a disaster. I thought I had better stick to what I could handle and not modify the clothes too much. If I try it again, I’m going to try gluing fabric over the existing fabric. I just need a couple of black panels, not a complete dye job.
I thought I would start my journey more successfuly by making a redshirt. If you don’t know that term, it refers to one of Star Trek’s many casualties, who often wore red shirts for security, and often didn’t even have names. But there was one who not only had a name, but he appeared in 57 episodes, more than even Sulu or Chekov! His name was Leslie…most of the time.
Lt. Leslie, played by Eddie Paskey
One of Mego’s new lines was Married With Children, and I had read that they were trying to go cheap on sculpts again. They were pulling old sculpts from everywhere, and they chose one that someone had made of Eddie Paskey, who played Lieutenant Leslie on Star Trek, to make Al Bundy’s head. This was supported when I got a look of the side view of Al’s profile.
I’m pretty sure Al Bundy never had those Starfleet sideburns! So, I thought, let me try making a custom Mr. Leslie figure. I took that now-shirtless Kirk figure, and popped off his head, and replaced it with the head of Al Bundy. I found a Scotty uniform shirt online for a fairly low price, and ordered it. Scotty was the only figure Mego produced in the old days who wore red. Leslie most often wore red for engineering or security. But I had also read that you could simply repaint Mego figures with the same paint you use for D&D figures, and I had some. So, I got to work repainting the head with a color more suitable for Leslie while I waited for the Scotty uniform to be shipped. When it arrived, I used an X-Acto knife to cut away one of the rank braids (Scotty was a lieutenant commander while Leslie was just a lieutenant), and put it all together. I borrowed one of my classic figure’s weapons belts to complete the look.
My first successful custom Mego: Lt. Leslie
Since I’m not worried about vintage weapons for this figure (the only part of him that’s vintage is his shirt), I looked for reproduction Star Trek weapons. And wouldn’t you know it, Dr. Mego has some! Instead of $50, I can get a full belt for eight bucks. And I have plenty of other figures that don’t need vintage weapons, but would display better with weapons than without. That site has replacement parts for everything we need to restore our 50-year-old figures and make them look new again! Okay, now I had a taste for customizing as well as repair.
There’s been a movement not just to sculpt Mego heads but to print Mego heads made of resin. And one that came up in my wanderings was one that I really want to make: Luke Skywalker.
It’s well known that Mego passed on the Star Wars license in 1977 and that decision factored into the company’s eventual demise. Kenner took up the toy license and instead of making expensive eight-inch figures, they focused simply on molded and painted 3.75″ figures that were far cheaper to manufacture and much more flexible in the types of figures that could be offered. It was a trend that even Mego adopted afterward, when they tried to keep up with their Star Trek license for Star Trek The Motion Picture. But I often wonder what it would have been like if Mego had made the Star Wars figures. So, I’m going to try to make one. I painted Luke’s head (so out of practice) and attached it to an extra Type-2 body I had. I noticed that the foot was broken, and yep, right to YouTube, learned how to pop out the ankle pin and replace it with a donor part.
Appropriate that he’s in front of a Star Wars game, right?
I’ve ordered a black bodysuit, and a pair of replacement boots for CHiPs figures to make a start on Jedi Luke. Yes, CHiPs boots are correct.
While I was in reconstruction mode, I dug back into my box of parts, where I found a Planet of the Apes figure. I honestly did not have any interest in these figures when they came out in 1974, so I didn’t even know the character’s name.
A trip to the Mego Museum page, and it was revealed! His name was General Ursus…or General Urko. It depended on when you bought him! That page is really a nice resource, because you can find out what parts a particular figure came with to be complete. This figure did not have his rifle or his scabbard and short sword, and like Star Trek weapons, they can be really hard to come by. But, because of his condition (really nice), I decided to complete him. It took a couple of weeks to find the parts, but I did. So, I spent $55 to complete a $150 figure. Pretty cool.
The Completed General Ursus/Urko
Here is where the new hobby is satisfying. I took parts from three incomplete figures and made a whole one. There’s just something right about that. It feels good. So I took a good look at my parts box and started making notes. Remember that extra captain’s chair from the Enterprise box? I sure don’t need it, but someone evidently does!
Just like there’s a market for Mego weapons, there is a market for any spare parts, even heads! I have an extra General Ursus head, and I don’t need that either.
So, to answer the question from the first paragraph, how am I keeping my brain from rotting? I’m doing math. I’m looking for parts lots that complement what I already have, and selling what I don’t need. Here’s the pièce de résistance:
I have a Klingon figure. Its head was in good shape, as was the uniform, and one of his two boots. His knee, though, had been replaced not with a plastic pin, but with a bolt and nut! I can’t even fix it because more damage was done to the leg when someone did their best knee replacement without YouTube.
Metal knee replacement before its time
So, I took a spare Type-2 body from a Robin figure with a messed up head, and did a transplant. Now I just needed a weapons belt and a boot replacement. Vintage boots are $20 a pair. Or, if you want a single boot, the price is…$20. The whole figure is only worth about $40. I was not about to pay $20 for boots. So, instead, I found a whole Klingon. Wait, what? Well, yes, the Klingon figure is whole, but…his head is messed up and the uniform pants have a few minute problems. That reduces the value. So, I paid $35 for this whole (messed up) figure, and I will take the boot and the weapons belt, to make a whole, good, sellable-condition vintage Klingon figure, and I could sell the remaining parts. Sounds crazy, but I could get $20 for the good boot, and $15 for the Type-2 body, and–are you following this? I could get $35–what I paid for the whole figure–for the leftover parts of this figure that are undamaged. I’m not going to, though, because I’m going to keep gathering an inventory of spare parts to complete more figures later on. I will probably ditch the defective pants, though. I think I might experiment more and repaint the head, too, since its paint defects make it not as valuable.
So, no, my brain isn’t going to rot. I’m on a constant watch now to find parts that go with my parts. It just becomes important now to keep track of what I have on-hand.
Everyone, take a bow! Your time will come. You will be complete again!
“Welcome aboard the USS Challenger. I’m Captain Jeff Chamberlain. If you’ll step down off the transporter pads, we’ll begin our tour.
Captain Jeff Chamberlain, deck 3 corridor, USS Challenger
“Before we begin, I’d like to give you a little context about Challenger‘s mission. In just a short time, the USS Enterprise should conclude its five-year mission, the only Constitution-class starship out of the original 12 to do so. The other 11 starships succumbed to the dangers of space exploration. The USS Intrepid lost all hands to a giant space amoeba near Gamma 7A. The USS Constellation was destroyed while battling the so-called Doomsday Machine near L-374. The crew of the USS Exeter were killed while investigating Omega IV.
“The Hood, Potemkin, Excalibur, and Lexington were severely damaged due to the runaway M-5 computer. The Excalibur lost all hands and was set adrift, while the Lexington sustained severe damage to the engineering section but was able to continue in its mission. I served aboard the Lexington, and lost my best friend, Chief Engineer Harold Bichel. I continued serving under Commodore Wesley as the new chief engineer until the Lexington, too, met its demise to an aggressive D-7 Klingon cruiser near Beta-Delta XII. I was part of the surviving crew who had to stay alive on the class-L planet for 40 days until help arrived. My back was broken, and I can tell you that it was a long 40 days. That’s where Challenger comes in.”
“During my recovery at Starbase 1, I petitioned Starfleet to create a new kind of ship and mission. I had plenty of time flat on my back in the medical bay to work on my proposal. Using all the data from every ship in Starfleet to that point, I outlined and addressed the weaknesses that led to the destruction of the ships and the loss of their crews. At the same time, I examined the non-sentient parts of the Enterprise that have contributed to its singular survival. All of these traits have been incorporated by Admiral Krause at Tycho Starship Yards into one prototype: Challenger. Now, I understand that the Enterprise will be getting overhauled. I’ve seen some of the fancy new engine designs that they’re planning. I wanted none of that. I wanted the most reliable, dependable, tried and true technology that Starfleet had to offer. Challenger may be the first, last, and only ship of its kind. She’s a forward-looking throwback. She’s the size of a Constitution-class starship, but she only crews 204. I’m hoping you’ll be part of that crew. Each of you were recommended to me by your individual captains.
Comparison of Constitution-class and Challenger-class
Challenger‘s mission is not one of exploration. Challenger‘s mission is crisis and emergency response. You won’t find state-of-the-art astrophysics labs or stellar cartography decks onboard. You will find an entire deck of emergency crew quarters to house survivors and refugees. You will find large cargo holds to transport medicines and grains. And you will find an expansive shuttlecraft bay with no fewer than 16 N-type Javelin shuttlecraft for emergency evacuation and rescue.
“But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start at the top. If you’ll follow me…”
Turbolift, USS Challenger
Shhkkkt.
“Computer; bridge.”
Shhkkkt.
Vrrrrrrr
“Such a satisfying sound, isn’t it? I understand that newer ships will have silent doors. I think that’s a shame. As you can see on the deck plans here, there are two turbolifts that go to the bridge. We typically use the main turbolift on the port side of the communications station. We reserve the secondary turbolift for emergencies. During my convalescence, I read too many incident reports of crew being trapped on the bridge after an incident with the sole turbolift being taken out of commission.
Shhkkkt.
Bridge, USS Challenger
“Captain on the bridge!”
“Shin, you’re the only one here.”
“Yes, Captain, except for the recruits you’re bringing on.”
“You have me there. Everyone, this is Lieutenant Shin Ch’tolnan, one of our tactical officers. It’s something new we’re trying out, separating the weapons systems from the conn. It’s enough to have to fly the ship under duress. It is thought that a dedicated weapons alcove would be more efficient. It’s one of the changes I didn’t come up with, but seems like a good idea.
“As you can see, there are two security stations, one for internal security and one for weapons systems. If necessary, they can be manned by two crewpersons. Shin knew we were coming because of an alert from his station. So, the port side of the bridge is typically manned by engineering or security officers. Communications is right behind the captain’s chair.”
Bridge, port stations, USS ChallengerLt. (j.g) Shin Ch’tolnan, junior tactical officer, USS ChallengerBridge station layout, USS ChallengerBridge, starboard stations, USS Challenger
“Over on the starboard side, we have Landing Party Monitoring, the medical station, and your typical science station. The interesting one is Landing Party Monitoring. You’ve probably noticed the device on my uniform that looks like a belt buckle. It’s called a Perscan, and it automatically feeds biometric data back to the ship via subspace link. It also helps maintain a transporter lock without relying on a communicator, which can be lost or taken away.
Perscan deviceMain bridge seen from viewscreen, USS Challenger
“And obviously, we have navigation, the helm, and the captain’s chair. Nobody really ever gets this view, since you have to stand in front of the viewscreen to get it. All right, take a good last look around and head to the main turbolift. You remember which one is the main lift, right?
“It’s the one on the port side. If you ever forget, it’s the one with the dedication plaque next to it.
Dedication plaque, USS Challenger
“Get back on that simulator, Shin. You need to get up to speed.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Isometric view of bridge, USS Challenger
Shhkkkt.
“Computer, deck three, aft.”
Vrrrrrrrr
Shhkkkt.
“Here we are, back on deck three. Deck two is taken up by a docking port. I was against that idea, because it provides easy access to the bridge for intruders, but I was overruled. Once we get underway, I’ll probably have the chief engineer weld it shut. Once we have a chief engineer, anyway.
Conference room, deck three aft, USS Challenger
“This is the conference room. On Constitution-class ships, the conference room was too far away from the bridge to be of practical use most times. In situations where solutions are not obvious, I always invite suggestions from my staff, and even debate, right up until I make my final decision.
“I like this room because it provides a good view of the nacelles. I may be a captain, but I’m still an engineer at heart.
Isometric view of conference room, USS Challenger
Shhkkkt.
“Also on deck three, we have transporter room one, where you beamed in. The Constitution-class ships had four transporter rooms. We have eight, and each one has eight pads and a cargo pad instead of the previous six-pad platforms. When we dedicate enough power to it, we can transport 80 people at the same time. That means we can move our entire crew in about two minutes if they’re standing by.”
Lt. Hal Bichel, security/communications officer, USS Challenger
“Ah, and Hal got here while we were gone to stock the armory. Everyone, this is Lieutentant Hal Bichel. Hal is a rare breed. She is both a communications and security officer. She had a double focus at the Academy.”
“What’s that, Commander? She has the same last name as my best friend? That’s not a coincidence. He was her father. Hal was with us on the Lexington when she was just a cadet. She’s also my goddaughter. Let’s–go ahead and continue our tour. I’ll see you later, Hal.”
Isometric view of Transporter Room 1, USS Challenger
Shhkkkt.
“Computer, deck five aft.”
Vrrrrrrrr
Shhkkkt.
Isometric view of Sick Bay, USS Challenger
“Pretty impressive, right? Here we are in the aft section of the middle of deck five, in the most heavily protected part of the ship. This is unchanged from the Constitution-class. None of the Sick Bays ever took direct hits in combat. This, however, is one of the most advanced medical facilities in Starfleet, only second to Starbase 1, though capacity is smaller, for obvious reasons. Sick Bay even has its own dedicated transporter room.
“Oh, and look who’s lurking about. This is Dr. Jenn Carmichael, my personal pain in the–”
Dr. Jenn Carmichael, nerve specialist, USS Challenger
“Don’t you say it, Captain. And speaking of backsides, have you done your physical therapy yet?”
“I’m getting to it. I’m a little busy, as you can see.”
“Captain, if you want to keep your command, you will do your physical therapy twice a day. I may not be the Chief Medical Officer, but I’m responsible for YOU.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Hey, everybody, remember how I told you that I broke my back? Well, turns out there was a little permanent nerve damage that went with it, which also happens to be my nickname for Lieutenant Carmichael. My sciatic nerve acts up from time to time. Good thing Starfleet made a new rule about landing parties. Captains pretty much stay in their chairs unless it’s absolutely necessary. And I have a really good chair.”
Office of the Chief Medical Officer, USS ChallengerMain bio bed room, USS ChallengerPhysical examination room, USS ChallengerLt Commander Brag bav Blav, trauma counselor, USS Challenger
“Oh, and look who it is! Dr. Brag bav Blav, everyone. Our trauma specialist. How’s it going, Doc?”
“How do you think it’s going, Captain? I just restocked my Saurian brandy. Again. I’m having Bichel put up a security force field on my display. These the new recruits?”
“Hopefully.”
“Well, I can’t wait ta get inside yer heads, kids.”
“Uh, okay, then, let’s continue, everyone.”
Shhkkkt.
“Computer, deck 16. aft.”
Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Shhkkkt.
“And here we are in my favorite place, Engineering. I saved the best for last.
“Over to the side is Auxiliary Control, where we can actually operate the ship if the bridge is compromised. And over here you see the warp core. What’s wrong, you’ve never seen anything like it? Well, my friend Woody, there, can tell you why. He’s the Assistant Chief Engineer. Lieutenant Wooderson?”
Lieutenant Chadwick “Woody” Wooderson, assistant chief engineer, USS Challenger
“All right, all right, all right! You must be the new recruits Cap’n has been trying to woo. This here is the fastest warp engine ever devised. Challenger has been rated for sustained speeds of warp factor eight, but we can push her up to warp nine if we have to. Of course, we can’t shoot when we go that fast, but you can’t have everything. She’s got some giddyup, and she purrs like a kitten at warp six. The only thing she don’t like is sittin’ still.”
Upper deck of engineering, USS ChallengerJeffries tube, USS Challenger
“Thanks, Woody. As you can see the warp core is installed vertically, requiring a second floor, which is new. And yes, we have a Jeffries tube for control access. No one likes to go in there, and hopefully no one will have to.
Isometric view of engineering, lower deck, USS ChallengerIsometric view of engineering, upper deck, USS Challenger
“Well, that pretty much concludes our little tour, unless you’re excited by cargo bays and crew quarters.
“If you’re still interested in serving aboard Challenger, I’m reviewing applications for the next several days. I look forward to reading yours.”
Credits:
Ship and shuttlecraft design by Bill Krause, @buckadmiral on Twitter, @admiralbuck on Instagram
Interiors by Craig Shoosmith, @tekknonerd on both Twitter and Tumblr
My wife Magi and I have been watching Bosch together recently, and I’ve been thinking about the trend toward 10-episode seasons for TV shows on streaming services. Game of Thrones used that format (more or less), as did Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, which I really enjoyed. I kind of like the idea for tabletop gaming purposes. I ran a weekly Champions game for almost a year before I needed a break, but it was too much for me to handle the pressure of preparation, even with a lot of free time to come up with interesting villains, maps, and virtual tabletop tokens..
Grinding in a 162-game baseball season is one thing, but when you’re doing something creative, it isn’t necessarily the best practice. I was thinking toward the end of that experience about the Aaron Sorkin-driven Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, with its never-ending clock that counted down until the next airtime of their fictional TV show. Even when the power went out, the digital clock just kept ticking by some almost metaphorical means. That’s what running an ongoing weekly game felt like.
I think that taking the time to put together 10 games with a fairly tight plot that includes a resolution in the end, that also plants seeds for future events, sounds really nice. And with my recent Star Trek Adventures campaign as an example, you can figure out if it’s just not working and you’re not locked into it for the long term if it isn’t.
I spent a big part of the pandemic collecting superhero role playing games and supplements, but I also picked up Star Trek games, Star Wars games, and a few others. I had a lot of fun with that, because I would buy them in big lots to get the unit price down on the ones I needed for my collection, and then I’d sell off the duplicates in smaller batches, getting the unit price up to a level where I was nearly breaking even. I was collecting for hardly any cost except for my time. And since I enjoyed what I was doing, that was no cost at all.
One of my favorite games to pick up was Mutants & Masterminds. I played in a short campaign back in 2009, but that was another edition of the game. I didn’t know the rules and just kind of went along with whatever the gamemaster said I could or could not do. I never got a real feel for the rules. The most recent edition, the third edition, has the advantage of having four sourcebooks featuring DC Comics characters that I am familiar with. I could kind of get a better handle on the game that way. But the best resource for learning about it was the actual play podcast, Masks and Mayhem. Listening to four people kind of struggle their way through learning the game while playing at the same time was a lot of fun. Mutants & Masterminds is more of a narrative game than Champions, and I’m not sure how that would go with the current group I play with. But that’s where the 10-game campaign would probably work best. Just the other day, I found myself pulling out game tokens for future use from an M&M supplement. If I take my time and put together a decent 10-game run at a leisurely pace, I think it would be a lot more fun for everyone.
Running games is one of my favorite things to do. It’s a lot like writing comics, except you get immediate feedback on your story, whether the intended audience enjoys it or not. The surprises that come with cooperative storytelling are an added bonus. Oftimes, a player’s speculation on what they think is happening is better than what the gamemaster had in mind in the first place, and a good GM will make a minor adjustment to make that speculation the truth. A great gamemaster can sell the players on the idea that it’s what they had in mind the whole time. Unfortunately, I’m not a great gamemaster. I am, however, a good one, and I’m not too proud to switch gears when someone has a better idea than mine, as long as it’s entertaining for everyone. After all, that’s the purpose of the game in the first place.
I think that running a 10-run campaign would be beneficial in other ways. I would have time to write out campaign summaries in some detail. It’s something I used to do back in the 90s when I ran a bi-weekly game. I lived in Michigan City, Indiana, and all my players lived in west Michigan, so I had a 65-minute commute each way to a friend’s house in Paw Paw, where we played. I didn’t mind this commute. I do some of my best thinking when I’m driving on the highway. I’d have time to visualize the game on my way there, and on the way back, I used my Sony microcassette recorder to dictate the game summary while it was still fresh in my mind. The next morning, I would transcribe the summary on my keyboard and distribute it to the players electronically, using our BBS. Yes, those were the days! Now I could just use WordPress, or Discord if I wanted immediate feedback. When I was running a weekly campaign for the long haul, I just couldn’t find the time.
Some of the campaigns I might like to run:
Wild Cards: Flashback–Set in 1986 after the Astronomer’s defeat and during the WHO tour that takes most of the well-known aces abroad, a mysterious drug called Flashback appears on the streets of Jokertown. One dose sends the user on a 12-hour hallucination of the way things used to be, allowing jokers to forget their deformities, at least temporarily. Highly addictive, each successive dose lasts roughly half the time of the previous one. Can a small group of aces and jokers uncover the truth behind the drug epidemic? Mutants & Masterminds 3rd Edition.
M&M Wild Cards
Star Trek: Chimera–While the captain of the starship Challenger (and most of the main characters) is on a landing party, the ship is taken over by once-human Augments who have melded their DNA with other humanoid races from the Alpha Quadrant. Can the landing party hope to sneak aboard and re-take Challenger? FASA’s Star Trek The Roleplaying Game 2nd Edition.
Challenger in orbit
Champions 1989: Escape from Stronghold–With the Champions gone missing, can the player characters prevent a mass escape of the “classic enemies” from the superprison, Stonghold? Champions 4th Edition.
“Captain’s log, stardate 7409.2. The starship Challenger, under my command, is to launch in just a few hours. But my operations officer, Lt. Hal Bichel, is holding me at phaserpoint with a serious accusation.”
“My tricorder is picking up Starfleet equipment not registered to this ship.”
“Oh, damn. You’re right.” Chamberlain walked back to the security station and opened his bag. He noticed that Hal hadn’t lowered the weapon. “You’re not relaxing.”
“No, sir. This is one of those situations you trained me specifically to watch out for. Android doppelganger, body switching, you know the drill.”
“I do,” said Chamberlain. “Color me impressed. Here you go.” He handed over his engineering tricorder. Hal inspected it with her left hand.
“Is this–?”
“Yes. It’s from Lexington. Commodore Wesley gave it to me when he promoted me.”
“When my–?”
“Yes, Hal, the day after your father died and I took over as Chief Engineer. Now do you see why I didn’t declare it?”
“I do, sir, and I thank you. But respectfully, it was three years ago, and I don’t need protection. I’m proud of my father’s service, and of his…sacrifice.” The last word came out as an epithet rather than a tribute. Hal’s father had been the chief engineer onboard the Lexington when the Daystrom M-5 computer had taken over Enterprise and fired its phasers at full power on an unsuspecting battle group of four starships during a training exercise. Fifty-three Lexington crewmen had died in the initial volley, mostly in the engineering section. Harold Bichel was killed by an exploding console while trying to stabilize the anti-matter reaction in the warp core. Lieutenant Commander Jeff Chamberlain, the assistant chief engineer, took over for the fallen man and saved the ship. Chamberlain lost his best friend that day, but Hal Bichel lost her father.
“I know that, Hal. I apologize for the oversight. Are we good to go?”
“Aye, sir.” Bichel’s reattached the phaser to her belt and held her tricorder up to Chamberlain’s device, tapping a few buttons. “I’ve reassigned your tricorder for use aboard Challenger, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Please see that my gear gets to my quarters.” Chamberlain winked at his operations officer and started again toward the turbolift. But then he paused and took a hard right. He wanted to check in at engineering before heading to the bridge.
When Chamberlain arrived in engineering, the section was buzzing with activity.
Main Engineering, USS Challenger
The captain found his chief engineer, directing his officers in five different directions at once. Commander Chad “Woody” Wooderson turned to meet Chamberlain’s eyes and rolled his own as a reaction. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Commander Chad “Woody” Wooderson
“That’s ‘Look what the cat dragged in, Captain.’”, Chamberlain laughed.
“As you wish, Captain, sir.” Wooderson was not impressed by rank, but by skill, and the two had been rivals in skill since their days at Starfleet Academy. “You have the braid, Captain, sir. Now what do you want?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I checked the hood over the secondary hull again to make sure that it was sufficient to prevent the deflector from—”
“–from interfering with the planetary sensor array,” Wooderson interrupted. “Haven’t we been over this about a googol times? It’s fine.”
“I know, but I wanted to be sure,” Chamberlain said, sheepishly. “Hey, why is everyone running around like their hair is on fire?” Wooderson grabbed Chamberlain by the sleeve and led him into the corridor.
“Because I told them that a planet killer was on its way into this sector and that we were the only ship available to handle it.”
It was Chamberlain’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re still doing that old routine? And they actually fell for it?”
“Oh yeah, I uploaded the simulation while they were at lunch. This one’s just a test for me to get a sense of who will perform under pressure. Be grateful I didn’t simulate a coolant leak. We wouldn’t get the stench out for a week, and I want to keep that new starship smell for as long as I can,” Wooderson chuckled.
Chamberlain laughed along with his old friend. “Can I help?”
“No…sir.” This time, the honorific was sincere. “I appreciate the thought, but they need to be able to trust you as their commanding officer. They already know I’m a jerk.”
“That’s true,” Chamberlain cracked. “Carry on then, Commander. And thanks for looking out for me.”
“Aye aye, Captain. We’ll be ready for launch in about an hour…even though we’re not scheduled for departure for another six.” Wooderson grinned, clapped Chamberlain on the shoulder, then vanished around the corner, shouting orders again. Chamberlain looked on his shoulder to check to see what Wooderson had put there but found nothing but a grease-stained handprint. He expected nothing less. Now he’d have to stop at his cabin on his way to sick bay.
As Chamberlain entered the turbolift, he prepared for horizontal movement by grasping one of the handles that encircled the lift. “Captain’s quarters,” he instructed the computer.
Challenger turbolift interior
The turbolift sped laterally along its track until it reached a point just below the stubby support pylon connecting the secondary hull with the saucer section. It then shifted seamlessly to vertical propulsion, rose one deck, and stopped. The door opened. Shhkkt. Chamberlain exited, turned left, and stopped at the very first door, straight ahead. The sign on the door read, “Captain Jeffery J. Chamberlain,” and as soon as he saw it, Chamberlain rolled his eyes. At least it didn’t say ‘Jeffery Joshua,’ he thought. Chamberlain’s middle name was in honor of the American Civil War Colonel from the 20th Maine Infantry Regiment who had successfully fought off a superior Confederate force at Little Round Top during the Battle of Gettysburg, a story that Jeff hoped he would never have to tell again. And he wouldn’t have to if he acted quickly.
He punched an intercom button on the wall in the corridor.
“Chamberlain to Bichel.”
“Bichel here, Captain.”
“I thought I had requested a different sign for my quarters door.”
“You did, sir. Has it still not been changed?”
“No, Lieutenant. That’s why I’m calling.” Chamberlain was irritated now.
Suddenly, a voice came from directly behind Chamberlain, not on the intercom. “Well, sir, if you had taken just a minute or two more, I would have had it changed before you arrived. I had a few more crew to check in before I brought your things up. But I see Woody has left his mark.” Bichel snapped her communicator shut, stowing it on her belt, and handed Jeff his gear bag. Then she started stripping the sign from the door, a small tool appearing in her hand from out of nowhere. She then took the adhesive strip off the enamel door plate and attached it to the door in place of the old one. It read, “Captain Jeff Chamberlain.” “Is that better, sir?”
Chamberlain nodded. “Much, thank you. ‘Jeffery’ has always sounded to me like a mother scolding a child.“
Hal smiled. She already knew the real story. “You don’t have to tell me, sir.”
Chamberlain smiled and stepped forward, the door whisking open ahead of him. He walked through. “How is your mother?” Bichel stood outside, every attention being paid to her duty as an officer, rather than a privileged near-relative.
“For crying out loud, Hal, come in,” Chamberlain gestured.
“Thank you, sir.” She stepped into Chamberlain’s quarters, but only just inside far enough to keep the sensor from closing the door behind her. She was protecting his reputation as much as her own. Chamberlain retrieved a fresh, gold triple-braided uniform shirt from his gear bag and stepped around the corner to his privy. “Mom’s fine,” she continued, “A little nervous about this mission, especially considering what happened to Dad.”
Chamberlain returned to the main living area, wearing an unblemished uniform. “Well, she’s not alone there.” Jeff looked out the transparent aluminum window of his cabin. Chamberlain was generally not one for pulling strings, but he had called in a fairly big favor to have his quarters located in the pylon just above the secondary hull instead of in the saucer on decks, three, four, or five, where most of the rest of his 247 officers bunked. Future starship designs would use this part of the ship for torpedo storage, but Challenger’s main torpedo bay was still in the forward section of the saucer. Chamberlain only wanted two things: An actual window that faced out from the port, or planet side of the ship when she was in standard orbit, and to be close to engineering. For some reason, the thrum of a properly tuned warp engine helped him sleep.
“Will that be all, Captain?” Hal’s voice brought Chamberlain back to reality.
“Yes, Lieutenant. And tell Maya for me that I will bring you home safely.”
“Aye, sir. But you should know, she’s just as worried about you.”
Chamberlain blushed. “I’m afraid that ship sailed a long time ago— when she chose your dad over me,” he chuckled. “I’m not saying it was the wrong choice. After all, you are a direct result of that choice. But I have to admit, it still stings a little.”
“Yes, sir.” Hal turned to leave, then paused. “But everyone deserves a second chance, sir. Don’t you think?”
Chamberlain thought for a moment and chose his words carefully. “Maybe we’ll see in two years, when this mission is over. Dismissed.” He winked at his security officer for what he decided would be the last time on this mission. He couldn’t show favoritism toward her despite his paternal feelings. Deep space missions were dangerous, especially for those wearing red.
Jeff turned away as the door whooshed shut, and put away the rest of his gear, stowing his bag. After he grabbed a quick protein supplement to silence his rumbling stomach, he started making his way to the aft section of the saucer via a short series of zig zag movements in the turbolift. Sick bay was on deck seven. It was massive, easily three times the size of the medical facilities on other starships. Challenger’s sick bay even had its own transporter room. There was a flurry of activity here, too, like there had been in engineering. No one even noticed the captain standing at the entrance for several seconds.
Sick Bay, USS Challenger
“Attention! Captain on deck!” an attentive nurse shouted, his deep voice resonating.
“As you were, everyone,” Chamberlain countermanded. The flurry resumed.
“Captain! We weren’t expecting you for a few hours yet,” Chief Medical Officer Jennifer Carmichael appeared out of nowhere.
“No worries, Lieutenant Commander; I just wanted to make sure that your last-minute personnel requests had been filled and you had everyone you needed.”
Carmichael may have been small of stature compared to Chamberlain, who stood a shade under two meters tall, but Jeff had known by her reputation alone that she was a force to be reckoned with. It was confirmed after just a few weeks of working with her. She was ambitious, achieving her position in her early thirties. Carmichael’s dark eyes flashed triumphantly. “Yes, Captain. Hickerson and Hoyle are just beaming aboard now. There was apparently a problem with the shuttlepod. Someone was holding it up, joyriding around the deflector dish.” She tried to stifle a smirk, but failed.
Dr. Jenn Carmichael in Sick Bay
“Uh, ahem, yes, I’ll have to have a word with Chief Nelson about that,” Chamberlain said sharply. He didn’t like being humiliated by an officer on his ship. He already had Wooderson to contend with in that regard. As Chamberlain turned to leave, he paused a moment, and looked back at Carmichael, all humor vanishing from his face. “Tell me, Doctor, in your years in Starfleet, have you ever lost a patient whose death could have been saved by someone taking extraordinary precautionary measures? But who, instead, died because of carelessness or miscalculation?”
“Why yes, of course, Captain. I didn’t mea—”
“That won’t happen on my ship, Doctor. Understood?”
“Underst—” Carmichael’s confirmation was cut off by the sound of the door to sick bay whooshing shut behind the captain.
Jenn Carmichael knew she’d just made a big mistake and had misjudged Captain Chamberlain. She resigned herself to making up for it in the performance of her duties.
Chamberlain seethed as he strode to the turbolift. Didn’t she understand the lengths he had gone to, to protect the crew of his ship? He had gone to the Starfleet engineers with a tactical study of starship damage compiled from the last five years of ship-to-ship combat and had found that the aft section behind the lower saucer was the safest place on the ship. With the widened support pylon protecting it from the rear, there was almost no way a phaser or torpedo strike would hit sick bay directly, and the hood over the deflector dish only added to that safety factor. As the elevator slowed, though, so did Chamberlain’s breathing. Jeff Chamberlain didn’t know how she had gotten under his skin, but he was sure he didn’t like it.
Jeff Chamberlain stood in the newly-completed Spacedock observation lounge, watching the U.S.S. Enterprise float into its designated mooring bay. The Federation starship, under the command of Captain James T. Kirk, had just returned from its five-year mission, the only Constitution class starship of the original 12 to do so. As Chamberlain’s practiced eye assessed the condition of the ship, he smiled and shook his head in disbelief. Jeff’s father had been one of the engineers that had designed and built Enterprise almost 20 years before, and Jeff was no stranger to starship design himself. What he saw was nearly a literal Ship of Theseus. He doubted if there were more than 20% of the ship’s original parts left intact. Both warp nacelles and pylons had been replaced. The shuttlecraft bay doors were new. The navigational deflector dish, he knew, had been damaged and replaced at least twice. The sensor suite, hull plating on the primary hull, both had sustained critical damage over the last 60 months. Enterprise had left damaged parts and debris scattered halfway across the quadrant. Chamberlain gave Kirk credit, though. He had brought his ship back and was the only starship captain to succeed at that.
But that was the past, Chamberlain thought, as he turned away from the new transparent aluminum alloy window. It was the very recent past, but the past, nonetheless. He had spent the last three months studying the logs detailing the collective demises of the Constellation, the Intrepid, the Exeter, the Yorktown, the Potemkin, and the rest, poring over every detail, every crew death, including those killed from the surviving Enterprise. Space exploration was a dangerous business. Extraterrestrial viruses, giant psychic single-celled organisms, and doomsday machines abound, not to mention the quadrant’s notorious bad actors, alien, and human alike. Jeff had done his homework, and he was ready. By the time the station’s docking clamps grasped the Enterprise, concluding the final moments of its mission, Captain Jeff Chamberlain was turning the control handle in the turbolift, heading up to his command, the U.S.S. Challenger, berthed 100 meters above.
As the turbolift door opened with a satisfying ssshhkt sound, Chamberlain tugged once each at his gold triple-braided sleeves, and greeted the dockmaster for what he hoped would be the last time for a long time.
“Nelson,” Chamberlain grunted to the chief.
“Captain Chamberlain, isn’t it exciting? Enterprise has returned,” Chief
Bruce Nelson replied. Nelson was a thin man, slightly older than Chamberlain, graying and balding at the same time. He had kind eyes and an affection for his pet cat that prevented him from serving on active duty aboard a starship. He was dressed in the red uniform shirt of the operations division.
Chamberlain was nonplussed. “Yes, everyone seems excited by it. In fact, it’s all anyone ever talks about these days. Take me over, please.”
“Aye, sir,” Nelson responded. “Bridge docking port or engineering?” Chamberlain gave Nelson a look that made the older man crack a smile. “I had to ask…sir.” In the 18 months that Chamberlain had been flying over to the nearly completed Challenger, he had not once chosen to dock behind the bridge of his command, nor had he chosen to use the transporter. “You’re going out…today, is it, sir?” Nelson inquired with a grin, rocking back and forth on his heels, knowing full well what the Spacedock schedule read.
Chamberlain’s grim visage finally broke. “You know it is,” he laughed.
The elder Nelson clapped Chamberlain on the back. “I do. And there’s never been a better man passed through those bay doors, I can assure you.”
Chamberlain ignored the compliment and as the shuttle pod pulled away from the dock, he gestured toward the front of the engineering hull. “Take me past the dish just one more time, would you please?”
Nelson sighed. “Again? Aye, sir. But you’ve done the math a thousand times. Chamberlain silenced him with another look, to which Nelson sighed, “Aye aye, sir.”
As Nelson piloted the pod around the bow of the secondary hull, Chamberlain regarded the deflector dish, which projected a beam of energy into space ahead of a starship, pushing aside any small debris that might strike the hull. Any impact at the high speeds at which the Challenger would be travelling could be fatal. The captain removed an engineer’s tricorder from his gear and slung the strap around his neck.
“You know, starship captains aren’t assigned engineering tricorders as standard gear, don’t you, sir?” Nelson teased.
“It’s a good thing I brought my own, then,” Jeff smirked. His tricorder was marked with his name, Chief Engineer Jeff Chamberlain, and bore the insignia of the U.S.S. Lexington. Chamberlain tamped down the memories that threatened to burst forth and focused on the task at hand as he flipped the lid open and started scanning. He had been concerned for months that the new, shorter pylon that supported the saucer section of Challenger would cause the deflector dish energy to bleed into the path of the planetary sensor array, the glowing dome at the bottom of the saucer. And for the 1,001st time, the math checked out. There would be no interference. He had requested a modified dish and a protective hood on the bow of the secondary hull just to prevent it, and it seemed to have worked. It had cost an extra two weeks fabricating the parts in Spacedock after Challenger had been towed from Tycho Starship Yards on Earth’s moon, but he had needed to be sure. Chamberlain snapped the tricorder shut and stashed it with his clothing.
“Satisfied?” Nelson smiled.
Chamberlain nodded. “Never more so. She’s ready.”
The chief piloted the shuttle pod down to the engineering hatch and backed in slowly. The connectors cycled around the circular docking ring in sequence, followed by an illuminated green light. “Barber poles,” uttered Nelson.
“Successful docking hasn’t been signaled with the alternating stripes of barber poles in 300 years and you know it,” teased Chamberlain.
“I know, sir, but some traditions ought not be forgotten. Besides, I knew you would know what I meant.”
The younger officer smiled as the hatch opened. “And now I have to greet over 200 kids who probably don’t remember it. Thanks for the lift, Nelson.”
“My pleasure, sir. And godspeed you on your voyage,” sighed the elder chief. “I hope to see you again.”
Port engineering hatch
Chamberlain nodded and turned to the intercom at the stern of the shuttlepod. “Chamberlain to Challenger. Permission to come aboard?”
The female voice on the other side of the intercom replied, “Permission granted, Captain.”
“Then open the pod bay doors, please, Hal.” The pod door did indeed slide open to reveal an attractive young woman with shoulder length dark hair on the Challenger side of the airlock. She was wearing the red uniform of the operations division. She was shaking her head. Chamberlain acted dismayed. “Lieutenant Bichel, please tell me you did not just roll your eyes at your captain from the other side of the hatch.”
The junior officer tried to stifle a smile and failed. “I’m afraid I can’t lie to you, sir. But that joke wasn’t funny the first time you told it back when I was at the academy. Welcome aboard, Captain.”
Captain Jeff Chamberlain
“Thank you, Hal,” Chamberlain responded with a warm smile. Her full first name was Hallie but she never used it. She was only Hallie when she was in trouble. He began to make his way toward turbolift three, when she stopped him. Her tricorder was beeping.
Lt. Hal Bichel
“Sir, one moment, please.” Chamberlain stopped.
“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“Are you carrying any unauthorized equipment on board?”
“No, why?” Chamberlain noticed that Bichel’s hand was on her hip near the grip of the type-2 phaser attached to her belt. She drew her weapon.
Fade to black.
“Space…the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Challenger. Its two-year mission: To answer the call when help is needed; to protect life and preserve the ideals of the United Federation of Planets; to boldly go where no one else would dare.”
