
Originally Posted by
gdmcbride
A Red Shirt campaign is a great idea. Imagine Star Trek meets Paranoia. The bridge officers get all the glory, credit and survivable missions. You, the briefing officer hates you. Still, if you ever want to get out of here, you've got to constantly lick his boots.
Star Fleet is your friend.
The Prime Directive is mandatory.
Keep your phaser handy.
Trust no one.
And be vigilant ... Klingon Mutant Traitors could be anywhere.
Paranoia sprang to mind, as did the comic Goblins. ("This time could we maybe use some of the items in the poorly locked treasure chest?" "Now you're just talking crazy.") Although I think what would be funnier is if fate itself conspired against the characters. You're the extras, not the stars; bad things happen to you to create the illusion of danger to the actually important people.
The Captain could be standing *right* *in* *front* (to catch the best light) when the bloodsucking fog attacks. Miraculously, he dives entirely out the way, whereas you, executing the same dive, get a lungfull of fog.
Whenever you're in a brawl with the Klingons, you and your surviving teammates have concussions, broken bones, batleth wounds, and so forth. The Captain is invariably slightly grimy and winded, with a faint trail of blood from the left corner of his mouth. (Always the left, because that's his not-as-good side.)
The Bridge Officers upstage you at every turn, no matter what you try to do to be important. "Maybe if we seal the cave with our phasers," you comment, unheard. "What do we do, Captain?" shrills the bimbo of the week. "Aim your phasers above the cave mouth!" the Captain declares. "We'll *seal* *them* *in*!"
And always, always, when there are two doors, the Captain gets the lady, and you get the tiger.
Some of your bosses might be kind to you because deep down they know how long you have to live; others might be indifferent, because they see no point in getting attached. Upon your death, the Captain will shout his grief to the uncaring heavens, lamenting how Bill was too young to die, even though your name was Fred.
After all, to paraphrase Philip K. Dick, the ultimate in paranoia isn't when everyone is out to get you, it's when everything is out to get you.
"On two occasions I have been asked [by members of Parliament], 'Pray, Mr. Babbage, if you put into the machine wrong figures, will the right answers come out?' I am not able rightly to apprehend the kind of confusion of ideas that could provoke such a question."
- Charles Babbage (1791 - 1871)
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