Andrew Foster sat in front of the old flat-screen television in his parent''s living room. On the screen was a paused frame of an old spaghetti western, the grizzled main character in mid-action pulling out his gun at the outlaw in front of him. I’d been paused because the other current birthday recipient was busy using the bathroom. Sitting back, Andrew picked up the battered DVD case and read through it once more.


    In this third installment of the Search for Goldfinger Mine Franchise, wanderer Colt Anders must stop a gang of bandits who not only terrorize the town of Los Alamos but also reportedly have a clue in the puzzle of the Mine’s location. Facing off against Quicksilver Pete, reportedly the fastest gun in the West, will Colt gain the next clue on his hunt? Or will he become nothing more than a notch on Pete’s pistol?


    Copyright 1978, Antonio Lorenzo Studios. All rights reserved.


    Andrew and Marilyn, his friend, shred more than birthdays, they share a love for cheesy movies found in bargain bins and thrift stores and unusual tabletop roleplaying games. Generally, their presents to each other revolved around these two things. Marilyn had donated the DVD, and Andrew was giving an old copy of a fantasy spin-off book in return. Grinning at that, Andrew sat back in his chair and then promptly realized he was hungry. What he planned to eat came to the man instantly. What better snack right now than popcorn?


    Humming to himself, Andrew got up and walked into the kitchen, opening up a cabinet and pulling a package of microwave popcorn out. Opening the wrapper, he stuck the paper bag into the microwave and punched two minutes onto the timer. His parent’s microwave was old, so it took some repeated pushes to get the worn-out buttons to work. As the popcorn got nuked, Andrew heard a toilet flush upstairs and breathed a sigh of relief. Looks like someone’s getting done, the man thought to himself. Abou time too.


    The microwave beeped, and Andrew pulled out the popcorn carefully just as Marilyn came down the stairs. “Feeling lighter?” Andrew asked jokingly. His fried glared, but only halfheartedly. “Har, har” she muttered. “Are you ready to finish the movie or not?”


    Andrew chuckled. “What do you think Marilyn?” he asked. “We had to pause at the climax of the film so you could use the john.”


    The woman rolled her eyes and sniffed the air. “Is that popcorn?” she asked, looking more excited than annoyed now.


    “Yep. Now let’s go finish the movie or it’s gonna get cold.”


    Just as the two entered the living room, the front doorbell rang. The two looked at each other. “It’s seven o’clock at night…” Andrew muttered. “And my parents won’t be home till midnight…”


    Marilyn sighed. “I’ll go check it out.” She then walked out of the room, and Andrew heard the door open before a confused “What the hell?” quickly hurrying over revealed Marilyn staring at the porch, a confused look on her face. Looking down, Andrew saw a… box?


    It was large, heavy, and old-looking, the cardboard stained and the tape slightly frayed. “What is it?” Andrew muttered, feeling the bulky and weighty container. Marilyn shrugged. “Beats me. Let’s get it inside before it starts raining.” A rumble of thunder in the distance accented this.


    “It is supposed to storm tonight…” Andrew muttered, the two straining to lift the box before resorting to sliding it into the house and then to the living room. As Andrew started opening the box, Marilyn hurried back to the door, about to close it, before noticing the wireless camera on the door. Surely, it would have caught whoever had put the box there. So why hadn’t Andrews’s phone gone off, or his parents contacted them? Odd. Closing the door and making sure it was locked, Marilyn went back to the living room to see Andrew digging through the box, which appeared to be full of books, dice, and pieces of paper. “This… this is amazing…” he muttered, before looking up at Marilyn. “This… this is groundbreaking! If the copyright date is real… this is one of the first Eldritch Westen games ever created, if not the first.”


    At Marilyn’s confused look, Andrew cleared his throat before saying, “It’s like the Wild West but with monsters, magic, and horror. It''s an interesting setting for an RPG, and this game was likely an early attempt at converting it to tabletop gaming.”


    What’s the name?” Marilyn asked, pulling out her phone.


    Andrew looked down at the books and read “The Cursed Lands. Says it was created by Witchcraft Games”


    Typing the names, Marilyn’s brow furrowed after a few seconds. “I can’t find anything on this game, or the studio, so it’s either a fake or extremely obscure and unsuccessful.”


    Andrew grunted. “I’m guessing the second option or someone’s found a way to make everything in here look old as dirt. This box and its contents… aren’t exactly in pristine shape.”


    Taking a book out, the title read THE CURSED LANDS: CHARACTER BOOK in font, a cross between old west text and dripping blood. The cover picture showed a gunslinger-looking individual firing a revolver at a horde of zombies while a woman in torn pioneer clothes held a musket in her hands, looking at the undead with terror. It was a cool drawing, to say the least, and curiously, she started thumbing through the pages, seeing old-school, black-and-white ink drawings of monsters and stereotypical Wild West figures. Andrew was muttering to himself. “this could be an important piece of RPG history. Hell, I bet we could sell this to a collector for millions.”


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    “I think we should make characters with these,” Marilyn said.


    Andrew looked at her with glee. “We could be the first people to make them in almost three decades,… he muttered, pulling out a pair of character sheets, both of which were slightly faded and worn.


    Putting the two on the table, Andrew grabbed some pencils, handed one over to Marilyn, and then cracked open the character book. “Looks like we choose races first…” he muttered. “Standard RPG standards…”


    After leafing through the book, Andrew hummed. “Okay. So there are four ‘races’: Demon, Forsaken, Native, and Settler. Demon is basically a spirit or extraplanar creature. Forsaken is a free-willed undead, Native is… well… Indigenous peoples, and Settler is pretty much pioneers.”


    “Why doesn’t one of us pick a weird one, and the other picks a normal one?” Marilyn offered. “Seems like we should cover our bases.”


    Andrew nodded. “Sounds good. ‘Forsaken sounds cool, and it gives me increased resistance to disease and poison, and I can’t be controlled mentally.”


    “Not immunity?” Marilyn asked.


    Andrew looked closer. “No. I’m still partially alive, so I’m not fully immune. Still cool, though.”


    Marilyn took the book and settled on one page. “How about Settler? Looks like I’m tougher and have a better talent with firearms.”


    The two spent a few minutes scribbling down notes before Marilyn leaned over and examined the yellowed book. “Okay. Seems like there are seven classes – Gunslinger, Sawbones, Occultist, Outlaw, Priest, Tinkerer, and Warlock. She sighed. “Too bad we don’t have a bigger group tonight. I’d love to see how all the character classes“ – She looked closer at the pages – “Or ‘Strangers’ as the game calls them. I wonder where the name came from”


    Andrew grinned. “A classic Western term for the main character who comes into town just as a problem starts. I’m glad they put that in there.”


    Marilyn grunted and looked through the book. “Occultist seems interesting. Looks like this is a cross between a wizard and a monster hunter.


    “What does that get you?” Andrew asked.


    “I can curse people, communicate with ‘entities of the Beyond,’ detect magic – Ether – they call it – and I have a handful of spells.”


    “Neat,” Andrew muttered. “I’m picking Gunslinger. Good brawler and ranged class. Besides, a gunslinger and occultist traveling together sounds cool.”


    Marilyn sighed. “Yeah. Too bad we’re probably not going to find a group to play this with. I’d say the money’s worth more than the fun.”


    “Let’s put that off for another day…” Andrew said, jotting down the character information. “Looks like we have a pretty standard list of stats: Strength, Dexterity, Fortitude, Arcana, and Perception.”


    “Why no main mental or social stat?” Marilyn asked.


    Kyle flipped through the book. “To make the game more narrative and interactive, we insist characters use problem-solving and roleplaying instead of rolling dice for mental- or social-based tasks,” he read aloud. “Odd…” Andrew muttered.


    “Every system has its quirks,” Marilyn put forth. “Besides, we’re unlikely to be actually playing this. Now, how do we determine attribute ratings?”


    Reading the book again, Andrew read aloud, “Each Stranger has a base score of ten – average – in all attributes. They start with six points to spread across and may reduce up to two attributes to eight to gain one point each to spend on other stats.”


    “Seems balanced,” Marilyn muttered. “Still don’t understand the lack of intelligence and charisma…” she muttered. The premise was cool, she had to admit, but something about it seemed off. Like the rules weren’t meant for the situation it was being used in. Still, the two started filling in stats before looking down at the book. “Says here that our hit points, stamina points, and Ether start at one hundred, increasing or decreasing by ten for every point above or below.”


    “One hundred?” Marilyn said in shock. This game had some serious quirks.


    Andrew shrugged. “That’s what it says,” he stated plainly.


    Marilyn grunted, jotting down her points before grinning. “Now the fun part,” she said. “Equipment.”


    Andrew shuffled through the pages. “Seems like it’s got equipment packages,” he said. “I can choose between ‘pistoleer,’ ‘marauder’ or ‘sharpshooter,’


    “What do they each get you?” Marilyn asked, interest piqued.


    “Pistoleer gives me a pair of revolvers and a knife; Marauder awards me a bunch of melee weapons and a metal breastplate; sharpshooter grants me a musket. Otherwise, I gain desert clothing, a backpack with supplies, ammunition bandolier, and a ‘trinket of my past life.’”


    “Go Pistoleer,” Marilyn encouraged. “Sounds like a classic gunslinger to me.”


    Andrew quickly started scribbling down the equipment before turning to Marilyn. “Your turn, missus Occultist,” he said, grinning. Marilyn took the book, flipping through it before frowning. “Damn. Looks like I don’t have different equipment sets.”


    “What do you have?” Andrew asked.


    Marilyn started reading from the book. “Light crossbow with twenty bolts, a silver dagger, a book on basic occult knowledge, a ritual kit, backpack of supplies, and a… familiar revealed at the start of the game.”


    “This game is so cool but so strange simultaneously…” Andrew muttered.


    “Tell me about it,” Marilyn laughed, jotting down her equipment. “Okay, looks like the final step is… sign our names at the bottom of the paper.”


    “Weird…” Andrew muttered as the two scribbled their signatures on the bottom. Putting the papers down, Andrew sighed. “Well, that was interesting. Hopefully, all this is worth something, or we can get a group together before selling this stuff.”


    “Want to finish watching the movie?” Marilyn asked. “I think it’s almost over.”


    “Sure,” Andrew said, yawning. “If I don’t fall asleep beforehand.”


    Leaving the papers on the table, the two friends walked over to the couch and sat down, excited but also exhausted. Marilyn grabbed the remote and flicked the movie back on. The two were asleep within ten minutes as the move went to the credits. However, on the table, blue symbols began to form in a language never spoken on Earth. They grew brighter and brighter as the pages began to burn, turning into ash that swirled like a dust devil before swooping over into the two asleep Strangers’ bodies and changing their lives forever.


    For better or worse.