Haven’t posted in a couple days, so I thought I’d write this up. I’m embarrassed to admit that I read a lot of Christopher Pike when I was in elementary school, besides the classics by Lloyd Alexander, Susan Cooper, and CS Lewis. Why? Because all my friends were reading RL Stine, and Pike was supposed to be more “adult,” and the library had a bunch of his books. I actually own The Midnight Club because it’s one of my favorite books. The writing’s not that great, but it’s a really touching story with some really meaningful themes, and it was really influential to me at the time.
I was cleaning when I noticed that I had it on a pile of books by my bed– it was inspiration fodder for a game Jonathan and I had talked about writing once upon a time. So I reread it today. It struck me how very easy it would be to play The Midnight Club as a hack of 1001 Nights, actually, with very little hacking at all.
The Midnight Club is a book about a group of teenagers dying of terminal diseases in a hospice. They meet every night at midnight to tell each other stories of darkness and loss and love and betrayal and death and hope.
In order to play this hack, you’ll need a copy of Meg Baker’s 1001 Nights. Go get one.
Instead of your character’s position in the sultan’s court, determine the disease your character is dying from. Additionally, choose one character that you remember from a past life, and how. These choices do not have to be reciprocal. Finally, choose one regret from your life.
There are no “Freedom” boxes.
Instead of “Safety,” there is “Health.” If you cross off all three boxes, you die.
Ambitions are unchanged; they may be dying, but they’re teenagers. There’s plenty of love and life and drama and hormones in even the terminally ill.
This is actually pretty much the same. Instead of trying to satirize your fellow terminals– although you could, if you like– the stories should comment on your interpersonal relationships, current and what you might foggily remember from past lives. Stories can also be personal catharsis, or purging for other members, by drawing on each other’s shared regrets.
If the players would like to continue the game after someone dies, that person can still play roles in stories; the stories would be to honor that person’s memory, and the way the dead person’s part of the story unfolds might relay something about the afterlife, or lives previous to this one. In this variant, the game is over when there’s no one left alive to tell stories to.