Slowly, very slowly, the roof is nearing completion.
The corrugated roof is the same as on the original; it’s not just because I couldn’t be bothered making more tiles. I suppose that in somewhere as remote as Ascension there’s only so much money even for prestigious government buildings.
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That thing called “real life” is getting in the way again; this week I had time to make something, but not to write about it.
The Something in question was the frankly unnecessarily complicated roof on the Ascension Island Government offices, which I managed after a certain a mount of swearing and remaking of awkwardly shaped sections.
Notice high-tech construction materials: no expense was spared on this project.
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It turns out that if you think ahead, you end up progressing faster on a project. The second version of the Ascension Island government offices is looking like a recognisable if heavily condensed version of the real thing.
Mind you, that means I’m running out of excuses to make the roof…
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So we return to the latest of “The Races”. Following on from Episode 1:
The Ascension Island Socialist Worker’s Party (AISWP) are currently in a running battle against just about everyone…
Comrade Pratt has just decided the Cause of the Workers is best served by reversing into the 40 Elephant Gang’s truck.
Charles Vane has managed to get around this battle and is racing after the other two competitors:
It seems they will outpace him easily, but Moggerington-Smythe and Skerrit have to take a card on this turn. It turns out to be “Engine Fire”
“Skerrit?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Remember that you said the engine might catch fire if I didn’t fix it, and I told you not to be pessimistic?”
“Oh dear…”
“Quite, please accept my apologies, and jump out and see what you can do, there’s a good chap. I’ll look for a fire extinguisher.”
“Very good sir…”
The Limpton sisters accelerated away as Skerrit beat the fire with an old coat.
Comrade Beadrsworth, the gunner on the AISWP, was trying to get as far away from the large gun on the other van as he could. To this end he was practically trying to climb out of the front of the vehicle, causing Comrade Pratt to crash.
“Why have you abandoned your post?”
“They’re shooting that massive great gun at me”
“The road to revolution is paved by the blood of the Martyrs, Comrade”
“Assume I don’t want it to be my blood just yet, okay?”
Mary lined up the experimental gun, aimed, and pressed the trigger…
The gun fired for two seconds, then made a noise like an elephant inhaling a vacuum cleaner. I’d pulled the “Guns Jammed” card, so the Socialists were safe for this turn…
“Fire’s out sir” Reported Skirret. as Moggerington-Smythe ran out of the crowd.
Moggerington-Smythe looked at the now superfluous extinguisher in his hand and then at a man in the crowd.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes?” Said the startled bystander
“Catch!”
He leapt on board and started the engine.
“Let’s go!” He pressed the accelerator to the floor while waving to the crowd…
“Look out, sir!”
Charles vane’s furious face peered over his now quite tilted car.
“Scoundrels! Road Hogs! I’ll report you to the race marshals, you see if I don’t!”
Moggerington-Smythe accelerated, pushing past the lighter Bugatti. There was a sound of twin Lewis Guns firing from the rear and Vane was briefly silent as he ducked under the side of the car.
“Any luck?” Called Moggerington-Smythe.
“There appears to be a small wisp of smoke coming from his engine, sir, unfortunately no physical damage is visible”
“Never mind; every little helps, Skerrit; every little helps…”
“Why aren’t you shooting at them?” Shouted Jim into the back of the 40 Elephants’ van.
“It won’t work!” Mary demonstrated by pressing the electronic trigger again: there was a whirring noise that was possibly terminal, a loud bang from the roof, and silence.
Jim looked towards Col. Lawrence. The Colonel made his opinion clear using a surprisingly wide range of gestures.
Jim looked forward. This was it then: it all depended on him. Just like it always did.
“Hold tight.” He called back, forcing the van into gear and driving towards his target…
Comrade Beardworth emerged from the back of the van to see the 40 Elephants gang charging towards them. He banged on the side frantically.
“Colin! Get out… quickly”
This service to the revolution rendered, he ran.
Jim didn’t see or hear anything any more: all he was aware of was the need; the need… he thought for a moment… for speed… Mary was shouting at him from a long way off, he ignored her. A tyre burst on a pothole, causing the steering to wobble: he merely gripped the wheel tighter and accelerated… His entire world consisted of that tiny slit in the van’s armour, giving a view of the AISWP truck, getting bigger, and bigger…
He saw Comrade Pratt scramble out of the broken windscreen, the side of the truck filled the whole of his vision; he remembered that he didn’t have a seatbelt, and braced for impact…
Wham…
The AISWP truck lurched sideways into a building, the 40 Elephants truck engine whirred briefly, and stalled. There was silence…
Meanwhile, at the distant end of the course…
“Should you have given that extinguisher away, sir?”
“”The engine seems to be working Skirret, we’re doing fully eighteen miles an hour.”
“I admire your optimism, sir…”
“I know you do. Hold tight, Those delightful ladies are about to try and ram us.”
The Limpton sisters passed Moggerington-Smythe.
“Take a shot at them” Shouted Jicama to her sister, “Then hold on: I’ve got a secret fuel from Charles…!”
“Oh dear” said Romaneque.
Suddenly everything became a blur. Romaneque was thrown onto the floor of the car.
“What… are you… doing?” she screamed, as they charged down the road.
“Sp-ee-e-ccc-c-ial… M-ii-i-xxt-uu-u-re!” Shouted her sister in return, gripping the wheel. “We’re way… ahe-a-aa-d… n-o-oo…”
There was a loud bang, both sides of the engine burst sideways with a cloud of sooty smoke, and the steering stopped working.
“My word” Said Moggerington Smythe, peering into the distance. “I do believe I scored a hit.”
Skirret stepped forward to look over his shoulders. Some way ahead the sisters were climbing out of the remains of their Bentley.
“My word sir, I believe you have.” he responded.
“Now all we need is…”
“There was another, louder bang, and the Rolls Royce lifted into the air, bouncing hard on the landing.
Skerrit fought his way to the rear and peered over the machine guns.
“Mr. Vane appears to have fired on us, sir!”
“Hoisted on my own Petard, eh Skirret?”
“It happens sir” There was a prolonged burst of machine gun fire. “However, I can report that Mr Vane’s vehicle also seems to be smoking profusely, and even appears to be stopping.”
“Well, that is most gratifying, Skirret, Our car, on the other hand appears to still be moving, and I can steer…”
“We are still in the race then…”
“Indeed, and… Oh dear.”
“Is there a problem, sir?”
“It seems our brakes are not working…”
Charles Vanes Bugatti rolled to a noisy stop with one wobbly wheel and a great deal of smoke. He stood up in the driving seat.
“You bounders!” he shouted “You… cheating scoundrels! I’ll have the race committee on you. I’ll write to the authorities. I’ll sue you through the courts… I’ll…”
Then he saw Jiacama and Romaneque looking at their damaged car. He jumped out of his vehicle and sauntered over to the sisters, straightening his moustache.
“Can I help you ladies?”
Romaneque turned. “You can explain what was in that ‘Secret fuel’ you sold us!”
“Oh,” said Vane awkwardly. “Ah, yes. Um…”
“Um what?” Began Romanesque, but was nudged by her sister
“Hello Charles…” smiled Jicama. Romaneque rolled her eyes.
“Seriously?” she asked. “He just…”
“Shutup, shutup, shutup…” muttered Jicama, smiling at Vane.
Romaneque gave up and walked towards the finish line.
“Well done on that checkpoint!”
“Very kind of you Skirret. I’ve also found there is a little bit of a response on the brake if I stamp on the pedal. We are slowing down…”
“That is most encouraging sir, However, will we slow soon enough to avoid the large truck in the roadway?”
“Er… hopefully” Moggerington-Smythe was stamping on the brake, which was causing the car to lurch in a manner never conceived by Rolls-Royce.
“Nearly there… Skirret”
“So I can see sir” came Skirret’s muffled voice from the back of the car.
Then there was a thud, and silence…
“There! said Moggerington-Smythe, arms outstretched. “All’s well, that ends well!”
“That was a bourgeois act of repression!” Comrade Beardsworth stalked towards them, a one-man proletariat uprising.
“What?” Asked Moggerington-Smythe, helping Skirret out of the back of the Rolls.
“Your use of our vehicle to stop you, I demand reparations for your treatment of the property of the working classes!”
Moggerington-Smythe and Skirret looked at Beardsworth for a moment, then each other, then back again. Moggerington-Smythe patted the activist on the shoulder.
“Would it help if I buy you a drink?”
“We stopped ’em didn’t we?”
Alice Diamond, leader of the 40 Elephants group, was watching Col. Lawrence inspect the remains of the van, which had gained even more dents than previously.
“Oh, yes,” said Lawrence. “Eventually.”
“You said nuffink about how fast we was to do it!”
“But I did expect you to do it without sacrificing my vehicle.” Lawrence climbed down and slammed the drivers door shut. The passenger door fell out. He shook his head.
“I’m afraid I can only pay half of what we agreed.” he concluded
“But…”
“I will have to get this vehicle repaired which will incur considerable costs and delay” If you manage to do better next time, maybe I will be able to pay a small bonus.”
“You said…”
“Good day to you…”
He walked off to his waiting car.
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I’ve been getting stuck again. This often happens, as many* long term readers will know.
I made this project more difficult because I wanted some kind of interior on the lower and upper floor: this is the main government building on Ascension island, so in my version of history it would be the centre of all the corruption, bribery and international intrigue on the island, so a lot will be going on inside it.
My first plan, making the upper storey come off the model, hasn’t worked very well: it makes a thumping great gap all around the model which rather distracts from the overall effect. Worse, I rediscovered the important lesson that it is essentially impossible to make two card boxes to within a millimetre of the same size, and in this scale a one millimetre difference is pretty obvious, enough to be annoying, or at least enough to be annoying to me.
When this sort of thing happens I tend to leave a where I can see it, for a few days, while my brain sorts out the problem. Often this results in a coat of dust on the model, but in this case I had a lightbulb moment. To access the ground floor, I only needed to remove the first floor interior, not the exterior walls. This can even sit on the downstairs interior walls, so no need for any joins and brackets, or other clever solutions I’ve been trying to come up with all week.
This revelation was of course followed by the inevitable second thought: why didn’t I think of this a month ago?
*“Many” defined as “about three.”
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Because, what else?
Elder Son talked me into running a role-play game. I’ve never even played a roleplay game before, let alone run one, so it took a fair bit of thought to understand how it works. On the other hand, the opportunity to spend time with Middle and Elder Son, both of whom were keen to try out the idea, was too good to miss.
However, it also meant I had to come up with a story to start off with.
As I already have the whole background for “Ascension Island 1937” pretty much ready-made I’ve decided that the story will be based on that world, with several of the characters like Police Captain Bryant, and Col. Lawrence, but with a role-play game, I can be a bit more ambitious than when I have to keep making models for everything.*
On the other hand, I generally need a visual “anchor” for a story, so I spent a few minutes feeding the idea into an AI generator and added the title. Now I have that, for some reason building the story feels much easier…
*Yes, know I promised you I’d make an airship; I’ll get around to it, eventually…
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“I hope you understand, miss Holmes, that I have agreed to this as a last opportunity for your… gang to redeem themselves.”
“Yes Colonel Lawrence”. Florrie Holmes moved to a slightly more comfortable place to stand on the pile of boxes. As far as she could tell, Col. Lawrence had two settings: condescending and incandescent rage: currently he was languishing in the pools of condescension and, unfortunately, her job was to keep him there. She hoped that Jim Bullock, the gang’s driver, was on the same page.
Down in the Forty Elephant’s van, Jim gripped the steering wheel.
Behind him, Mary sat in her firing seat and pedalled experimentally, turning the turret on the truck back and forth. “You haven’t forgotten what Alice said?” she called forward.
“We aren’t racing, we’re stopping the Socialist Worker’s truck,” Parroted Jim. “And I hadn’t forgotten it two minutes ago when you last asked. Or the two minutes before that. So stop asking. You just make sure you don’t shoot the Colonel again.”
Mary sulked and turned the gun so she was facing the back of the van.
The Ascension Island Socialist Workers Party were having their own problems.
“…we agreed in the last meeting: I work on planning and overall strategy, and you deal with technical matters,” called Comrade Pratt from the driving seat.
“Here we go again. You’re going to talk about your degree in mathematics…”
“…I have the qualifications to understand the bigger picture, all I asked of you, Comrade Beardsworth, is…”
“You never graduated…”
“That’s not the point. The division of labour was diplomatically agreed upon and should have been carried out. This was recorded in the minutes of the last meeting, and you clearly agreed to fix the loudspeaker.”
“I couldn’t get the wire to fit…”
Between the Heroes of the Revolution and Forces of the Old Order, Jicama Limpton sat in her green Bentley and tried to pointedly ignore Moggerington Smythe in the Rolls Royce next to her.
This was proving difficult: the point, as it were, of pointedly ignoring someone is that the ignoree has to be actually trying to talk to you, but Moggerington-Smythe was reading a newspaper, and his rear gunner was checking the twin machine gins in the rear of the vehicle. Fortunately Jicama’s sister, Romaneque, had decided to complain about the rockets again, so she was ignoring her instead.
“It took me nearly a week to fix the steering after the last time. On my own, I might add”.
“Charles Vane said the new ones…
“Oh, really? I don’t see Harry anywhere nearby right…”
“Well hello, ladies…”
They turned around. Behind them was a blue racing car with a machine gun lashed on the front. Charles Vane leaned over the side, grinning. He had even started twirling his moustache.
“Hello Harry” said Jicama, checking her hair. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d come and join the fun”.
“You’re racing?”
“Of course: see you at the finish line…”
“Oohhh…” simpered Jiacama.
Romaneque actually exchanged a Look with Moggerington-Smythe: it was that bad.
The starting horn went off. Jicama reacted automatically, flooring the accelerator on the Bentley.
“This didn’t work last time!” Shouted Romaneque over the sudden roar…
But on this occasion the dice aligned, the engine didn’t explode, and they made it around the first checkpoint…
The other competitors all followed, with varying degrees of success. Vane roared forwards, tried to turn, failed and spun round until he was facing the wrong direction.
“Pardon me sir,” called Skirret “I believe the political Gentleman are intending to…” He was thrown across the back of the Rolls-Royce as the Socialist Workers Party truck rear-ended them.
“Take that, oppressors of the working class!” came a muffled voice from the cab.
Vane cackled and waved. “Serves you right you bounder!” he called, then ducked as Comrade Beardsworth fired the machine gun.
The sight of the Socialist Workers truck ramming the rolls had brought Col. Lawrence back into his usual incandescent rage. “Stop them!” he screamed, gesticulating wildly.
Mary was still trying to turn the turret, but Jim responded immediately…
…slamming the van into the side of the Socialist worker’s truck and allowing Moggerington-Smythe to escape.
The delay enabled Vane to reverse past the ‘#1’ marker: always ready to kick a man when he’s down, Vane tried to shoot at the Rolls-Royce, but in the first use of the “chance” cards, Vane’s machine gun had “Broken sights”, so he missed…
Moggerington-Smythe Rounded the first checkpoint. Unfortunately, so did the Socialist Workers…
“The political Gentlemen seem unusually belligerent today sir” Skerret fired his twin machine gun into the cab at point-blank range. In the truck, Comrade Pratt jumped so high, he hit his head on the roof: the truck stalled.
Jim swerved back, aiming to ram the socialists again…
“How could he miss?” Screamed Lawrence, who had left incandescent rage and was heading towards hysterical. “It was right in front of him!”
Mary swung the heavy turret gun around and pressed the firing button.
In the Socialists truck, It was Comrade Beardsworth’s turn to bang his head on the roof. “Go-go-go-go, Marvin!” he yelled. Comrade Pratt got the truck started and hit the accelerator, which would have worked better if he’d remembered to steer as well…
Mary saw her opportunity to really impress the boss, and pedalled to swing the gun around. There was a loud “Brrrrrrt” as the cannon fired, hitting the van, and perforating several of the boxes under Lawrence and Florrie…
Vane had finally managed to perform a three point turn around the checkpoint, and saw the Socialist workers party dead ahead. “Take that, anarchists!” he shouted, pulling the trigger.
“Anarchists?” Screamed Comrade Pratt, red mist rising. He threw the van into reverse…
“What are you doing?” Shouted Beardsworth from the back…
“Hold on Skirret!” Called Moggerington-Smythe as the bounced down the alley in pursuit of the Limptons…
“Why aren’t you -oof- Braking? Screamed Romaneque between potholes
“Why aren’t you shooting?”
“Too busy holding -ow- on…”
Comrade Prat reversed the van, screaming defiance at all capitalist oppressors of the people; he missed Vane, and crashed into the only solid object for some distance…
Vane cackled and accelerated away*.
Will Charles Vane catch up with the other competitors? Will the Ascension Island Socialist Workers party make it to the second checkpoint? Will Col. Lawrence manage another emotion apart from screaming fury? Find out in the next thrilling episode of The Races…
*This would have been an excellent moment for him to try his grenades but for some reason I forgot…
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Back in the mists of time, also known as November, I mentioned a souvenir I’d brought back from the UK in the form of a model Bugatti Type35 racing car. The plan was to adapt it for “The Races”, the mildly bonkers and highly lethal motorsport on the Island.
I’d also been waiting for a driver who goes around twirling his moustache while dreaming up ways to steal from the Widow’s and Orphans fund just before Christmas, and with the arrival of “Charles Vane” on the island I had a perfect candidate.
Most participants in “The Races” on Ascension started out with whatever vehicles they could find; It takes a considerable fortune, like that of the Limpton Sisters, to transport a car several thousand kilometres over the Atlantic. This is why the other independent teams are driving a clapped out Rolls-Royce and some battered trucks. Thus, it says a lot about Charles Vane that he imported a Bugatti type 35 racing car; an older vehicle by 1937, to be sure, but still not cheap.
Of course, this being “The Races”, the car needed to have some kind of offensive weaponry, and so this classic of the European race scene is now equipped with a forward facing machine gun, operated by what appears to be either an air hose and plunger or a piece of string.
On the back is a pair of grenade launching tubes: apparently Vane doesn’t trust the rockets he sold to the Limpton sisters so he’s going for a “safer” alternative. These will of course be wildly inaccurate in a race; there aren’t any rules in the official rule book, so I’m going to have to work out how to simulate them bouncing off in all directions before exploding…
*Not a typo, just another bad pun…
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One minor problems I’ve discovered with tabletop games, is that they tend to be made for more than one player. You will see the issue here at once. The obvious solution of going about and being sociable was dismissed out of hand because that means, well, going out and being sociable.
Left to my own devices, I decided to work on a “solo” adaptation for the slightly bonkers Maximilian racing game I’ve been playing for a while now. I decided to base this in the solo version of Pulp Alley, mostly because I’d used the system and it seemed to work. It is based on a set of “chance” cards that can add a bit more unpredictability and chaos to the game; given that the last time I had a “race” one competitor managed to blow up their car with their own rockets, the need for extra chaos is possibly questionable, but still…
As with the Pulp Alley card deck, I decided these needed to have a good mix of positive and negative outcomes, so a competitor is as likely to get a card allowing them to accelerate faster than usual, or “fix” the damage to a car during a race, as they are to find their guns have jammed or their brakes don’t work. There are also several “wild card” versions which won’t automatically affect the competitor on the current turn but which are specifically targeted at the lead car or other vehicles in the race.
I will try these out at some point when I have time. I’m also wondering if a railway based version of this would be possible, to introduce things like sheep on the line or even represent traffic. I will return to this subject.
Of course, having read this post back, I realise that if this is what my brain does when left to its own devices, it’s possibly a good argument why I should be more sociable…
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I have to admit, I’ve been putting this off for a while, as it is the first model “based on” a building that exists in real life on Ascenstion Island, where it houses the Government headquarters and presumably some administrative offices and reception rooms for serving little chocolate based sweets*.
The original building is a bit bigger; there are five archways instead of three, but if I’d aimed for accuracy it would have dwarfed everything else on the table, so some compromise was necessary. Even with this, the first version looked collosal when I added a makeshift roof to get a feel for the overall impression. Typically I then went too far the other way and made the next mockup too small. This one seems to be in the “goldilocks zone”, but to be honest I’m fed up of remaking the same building over and over agian, so this is the size it’ll be.
I’m also aware I’m going to need an interior for the building. I don’t seem to like making interiors, judging by the number of empty shells I’ve made so far, but being a government office in a corrupt boom town on with one of the few open ports in an intercontinental trade war, there has to be somewhere for all the diplomacy, spying, general espionage and corruption to take place.
Just don’t expect it too soon…
*Very old, very British cultural reference…
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Railway Misadventures 