TEXT: STEVE JACKSON GAMES
  G
  U
  R
  P
  S
  ®
  B Y E L I Z A B E T H MC C O Y &  WA LT E R M I L L I K E N
  I L L U S T R AT E D
  B Y PH I L
  A N D K A J A F O G L I O
  ™
  Welcome to Illuminati University!
  Welcome to Illuminati University!
  
  ISBN 1-55634-206-3
  9!BMF@JA:RSQOUUoY`ZfZdZnZ`
  SJG01995 6072
  Made in
  the U.S.A.
  . . . where Unusual Background isn’t just
  an Advantage, it’s a way of life.
  WHAT DOES THE
  “O” STAND FOR?
  WHAT DOES THE
  “O” STAND FOR?
  Written by
  Elizabeth McCoy
  and Walter Milliken
  Edited by
  Lillian Butler
  Cover by
  Phil Foglio
  Illustrated by
  Phil Foglio
  and Kaja Foglio
  GURPS Basic Set, Third
  Edition Revised is needed to
  use this supplement in a
  GURPS campaign, but it can
  easily be adapted as a
  humorous campaign setting
  for any game system.
  STEVE JACKSON GAMES 
  www.sjgames.com
  ®
  ORIENTATION LEADERS:
  FIRST EDITION, SECOND PRINTING
  PUBLISHED APRIL 2000
  YOU’RE NOT
  CLEARED FOR
  THAT!
  YOU’RE NOT
  CLEARED FOR
  THAT!
  Admit it. College would have been more
  fun if you were allowed to blow up the
  instructors. And you really would have
  liked to major in Military Biology,
  Anti-Social Sciences, Double-Entendre
  Bookkeeping, or Computer Wizardry.
  Too bad you didn't know about IOU.
  Illuminati University is THE best place
  to learn Things Man Was Not Meant
  To Know. With departments like Weird
  and Unusual Science and Engineering,
  Inapplicable Mathematics,
  Misanthropology, and Zen Surrealism
  . . . not to mention extracurricular
  activities like Democrats for Cthulhu,
  Moopsball, and food fights that set off
  nuclear alerts . . . this is college as it
  should have been. And gadgets?
  Everything from the Crockpot of the
  Gods to the Enigmatic Alien Device
  Button-Pushing Table.
  Illustrated by the one and only (two and
  only?) Phil and Kaja Foglio, this book
  supports three different campaign styles
  . . . Silly, Weird, and Darkly Illuminated.
  GURPS IOU takes you from creating a
  character to enrolling in classes, to
  study, finals, and the occasional 
  academic blood feud, all the way to
  graduation.
  If you survive.
  Admit it. College would have been more
  fun if you were allowed to blow up the
  instructors. And you really would have
  liked to major in Military Biology,
  Anti-Social Sciences, Double-Entendre
  Bookkeeping, or Computer Wizardry.
  Too bad you didn't know about IOU.
  Illuminati University is THE best place
  to learn Things Man Was Not Meant
  To Know. With departments like Weird
  and Unusual Science and Engineering,
  Inapplicable Mathematics,
  Misanthropology, and Zen Surrealism
  . . . not to mention extracurricular
  activities like Democrats for Cthulhu,
  Moopsball, and food fights that set off
  nuclear alerts . . . this is college as it
  should have been. And gadgets?
  Everything from the Crockpot of the
  Gods to the Enigmatic Alien Device
  Button-Pushing Table.
  Illustrated by the one and only (two and
  only?) Phil and Kaja Foglio, this book
  supports three different campaign styles
  . . . Silly, Weird, and Darkly Illuminated.
  GURPS IOU takes you from creating a
  character to enrolling in classes, to
  study, finals, and the occasional 
  academic blood feud, all the way to
  graduation.
  If you survive.
  
  By Elizabeth McCoy and Walter Milliken
  Edited by Lillian Butler
  Cover by Phil Foglio, colored by Derek Pearcy
  Illustrated by Phil and Kaja Foglio
  GURPS System Design by Steve Jackson
  Alain H. Dawson, Managing Editor
  Page Layout and Typography by Lillian Butler and Jeff Koke
  Interior Design by Jeff Koke; Cover Production by Derek Pearcy
  Print Buying by Russell Godwin
  Art Direction by Lillian Butler
  Ross Jepson, Sales Manager
  Any resemblance to real people (living, dead or otherwise), places, organizations or governments is purely for satirical purposes, totally
  concidental, the result of Orbital Mind Control Lasers or all of the above. Not approved for human consumption. Void where prohibited. Fnord.
  Playtesters: Albert Griego, Chris Pepper, Tim Carroll, Lee Graham, Michael Fox, Brian Warwow, Sean Punch, Michael Schwartz, Tony Ridlon, Larry Nutt.
  Our thanks to the original IOU crowd:
  Founder Yarblek, Walter Milliken, Archangel Beth, Professor Esteban, The Mentor, The Ogre, Green-Eyed Lady, THE Unseen Dean Cloudcat, TempDean Sleeve Coat, Dave Nalle,
  Chairthing Metalhead, Brett Slocum, Mike Hurst, Earl “Shiva” Cooley, Research Subject Krome, Stefan Jones, B.C., Elric, Chairthing Ryden, Professor Padraig, Silver, Ivorythorn, Student
  Judah, Student Gremlyn, Professor Case, Laughing Lemming Boy, Professor Grendel, WindLord, Pat Crumhorn, Ed Gore, Charithing Mephron, Justin Case, Invading Alien X’noleun TEnz,
  Dean Gus “Lestat” Smedstad, Student Voltaire, tkm, Student Monty, Morgoth, Professor Elros F., Mark Hagerman, Sean Rodden, Michael “Wintermute” Eaton, Crackpot, Mack Pitchford,
  compucious, Professor Dr. Memory, Talisar, C. David Dent, Invading Alien/Professor Caradon “B’thoriai Argh,” Schadwen, Deliamber, Professor Bughunter, Captain “Newob Det” Zwack,
  Professor Anselm, Student TanisHalf-Munchkin, Chad Irby, Urhixidur, Student Two-A-Day, Rif Christiansen, Student Jim Cowling, Student Mikey the Kid, Deliamber, Amal Hess,
  Mercutio, M*n*r “Captain Yid” N**s*nc*, Heathen God, EggHead “Dr. Igor von Torkemoff,” Tomb,  Phillip “Dr. Phil Off Sophy” Vela, IOU Campus Reporter, IOU Campus Security,
  Ghost In The Machine, Royce Day, Student Yossarian, Chairthing Tse-T’non-Chai, Ghost In The Machine, Freshthing TSRminator, Mason Kramer, TempDean Lady Tamiko Danica Drake,
  Professor bonsai, Liberator, Freshthing Paranoia, Student Wolverine, Dr. ditto, The Cure, Christian Death, Razor, the highlander, KC,  F.B. “Ches” Vecchio, Kirk Anderson, Nick Kinnas,
  Dean Dr. What, ken “thingfish” primer (and Battlesmurf), Professor Howard the Dolphin, Chairthing Astral Advisor, Professor Ancient Gnome, Curator John M. Ford, Edward Goldstein,
  Secretary Lilith, Dean Mephisto, Steve Jackson, Thanatos, Bob Schroeck, Count Zero, Chairthing Red Fox, Baron Helstar, Chief of Security \Hacmaniac/, Steve Brinich, Psychotic Budgie,
  Jeff K, Professor CWM, General Counsel Trag, Gradthing Traveller in Black, Terry McCombs, Lone “Dr. Whateless” Wolf, Mandrake, Highland Thing, Alan “Alanator” Goldstein, Arnold,
  Thugbuster, Hunter, Chrome Sync, Rick Gerdes, Invading Alien Fareless Liter, Digital Brujo, and everyone from the branch campus on ARRAKIS BBS.
  GURPS and the all-seeing pyramid are registered trademarks of Steve Jackson Games Incorporated. Pyramid and Illuminati Online and the names of all 
  products published by Steve Jackson Games Incorporated are registered trademarks or trademarks of Steve Jackson Games Incorporated, or used under license.
  GURPS Illuminati University is copyright © 1995, 2000 by Steve Jackson Games Incorporated. All rights reserved. Printed in the U.S.A.
  ISBN 1-55634-206-3
  2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
  STEVE JACKSON GAMES
  WELCOME TO ILLUMINATI UNIVERSITY!
  
  CCOONNTTEENNTTSS
  2
  INTRODUCTION ........4
  About GURPS.....................................4
  1. WELCOME!............5
  Obligatory Marketing Hype ....................6
  Top 10 Reasons for 
  Coming to IOU...............................6
  Politically Correct Speech at IOU......6
  Admissions .........................................7
  Financial Aid ......................................7
  College Acronyms...............................7
  The “Smith and Wesson” 
  Scholarship ....................................7
  Continuing Education.........................7
  IOU Overview .........................................8
  The University ....................................8
  Where in the World Is IOU?...............8
  Campus Rules .....................................8
  History (Oral Tradition Version)........8
  Student Handbook (Readers Digest
  Version)..........................................9
  Major Dorms ......................................9
  2. BUILDING 
  CHARACTER(S)......11
  Point Levels...........................................12
  Character Types.....................................12
  Advantages ............................................15
  Disadvantages........................................16
  Skills......................................................17
  New Advantages....................................18
  New Disadvantages ...............................21
  New Skills .............................................23
  3.COLLEGES & 
  DEPARTMENTS.....25
  School of Weird & Unnatural 
  Sciences & Engineering....................26
  University Organization ...................26
  Reorganizations................................26
  Other WUSE Departments................27
  Department of Chemistry .................28
  Department of Genetic 
  Engineering..................................28
  Department of Computer 
  Wizardry ......................................29
  Department of Military Biology.......30
  Department of Military Science 
  & Cost Overruns ..........................30
  Government Grants ..........................30
  Department of Physics......................31
  Department of THE Computer 
  Science.........................................31
  Forming a New Department.............31
  College of Obscure and Unhealthy
  Professions........................................32
  School of Medicine...........................32
  Other COUP Departments ...............32
  Creating Courses..............................33
  School of Law...................................33
  College of Temporal Happenstance,
  Ultimate Lies, & Historical
  Undertakings.....................................34
  Faculty Blood Feuds.........................35
  Department of Prehistory..................35
  Department of Ancient History ........35
  Department of Medieval Studies ......36
  Other CTHULHU Departments........36
  Department of Modern History ........37
  Department of Future History...........37
  D.O.C.T.O.R.....................................37
  School of Conservative Arts..................38
  Other SCA Departments ...................38
  School of Performing & Creative Arts..38
  Other SPCA Departments.................38
  Department of Cinematography .......39
  College of Metaphysics .........................40
  Other CoM Departments ..................40
  Department of Alchemy ...................40
  Department of Temporal 
  Metaphysics .................................41
  Department of Thaumaturgy.............41
  College of Communications..................42
  Other CoC Departments...................42
  Department of Journalism.................42
  Department of Mass Media ..............43
  School of Social Anti-Sciences .............43
  Other SSAS Departments..................44
  English Department ..........................44
  College of Zen Surrealism.....................45
  Other CZS Departments ...................45
  4. UNIVERSITY (DIS-)
  ORGANIZATIONS ..46
  The Administration................................47
  Axioms of Administration .................47
  Campus Mail.....................................47
  Board of Trustees..............................47
  Campus (In-)Security........................48
  Health Services.................................48
  Forms................................................48
  Student Union, Local 666 .................48
  The Library.......................................49
  The Ilumni Association .....................49
  Career Planning Center ...................49
  Student Disservices...........................50
  Vehicle Pool......................................50
  Student Investment Services..............50
  Student Organizations ...........................51
  Student Senate ..................................51
  Campus Crusade for 
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U.............................51
  Campus Crusade for Cthulhu...........51
  Democrats for Cthulhu .....................51
  WIOU and KIOU..............................51
  ROTC................................................51
  The Daily Illuminator.......................51
  The Student Overground...................51
  Student Liberation Organization.......52
  Society for Unimaginative
  Anachronism ................................52
  Fraternities and Sororities ...............52
  Sample Fraternities & Sororities......53
  Sports................................................54
  Basic Moopsball Rules .....................54
  5. PEOPLE ..............55
  Personalities...........................................56
  The ArchDean...................................56
  Dr. What7 ..........................................57
  Clark M. Walters ..............................58
  Dean of Metaphysics ........................59
  The Unseen Dean..............................59
  William Waldon................................60
  Lilly Ann Bie....................................61
  Patricia Miller...................................61
  THE Computer..................................62
  George the Janitor.............................62
  
  The Librarian ....................................63
  Robocrat............................................63
  Madame Curry..................................64
  Sample Students ....................................64
  Gillian Brent .....................................64
  Joe Calderwood ................................65
  Loriel deForest..................................65
  Guido ................................................66
  Sarah Holden ....................................66
  Johnathan Lirden III .........................66
  Og .....................................................67
  John Smith ........................................67
  Swomi Tift........................................68
  Generic Staff..........................................69
  Campus Security...............................69
  Sahudese Gardeners..........................69
  6. PLACES...............70
  Buildings and Landmarks......................71
  The Pent............................................71
  The Main Building............................71
  Mapping the Campus........................71
  The Founder......................................71
  The Clock Tower..............................72
  The College of Metaphysics 
  Building .......................................72
  The Avant Gardens ...........................72
  The Avant Guardsman......................72
  Generic Buildings.............................72
  The Library.......................................73
  Student Scab Building.......................73
  Student Confederacy.........................73
  The Museum.....................................73
  Campus Bookstore............................74
  The Botany Building .........................74
  The Public TOILET..........................74
  Madame Salome’s Performing Arts
  Center...........................................75
  Solar Power Plant.............................75
  Croesus Ilumni Center......................75
  Dorms ...............................................75
  Borgia Center....................................76
  A Typical IOU Meal..........................76
  Maiham Stadium & the Sports
  Complex .......................................76
  University Regulation of Pocket
  Dimensions...................................77
  The Steam Tunnels................................77
  The Town...............................................78
  Pyramid Mall ....................................78
  More Off-Campus Sites of Interest ...79
  Campus Map........................................80
  7. THINGS................81
  Tech Level IOU.....................................82
  Matter, Anti-Matter & 
  Doesn’t-Matter..................................82
  Braindumping Machines...................82
  Campus Reality Stabilizers...............83
  Dimensional Gates............................83
  Miniaturizer ......................................83
  Po-Peel Artifact ................................83
  Resurrectatron...................................84
  SuperDuplicator................................84
  THE Computer..................................84
  Vending Machines............................84
  Magic Items...........................................85
  Bare Skin Rug...................................85
  The Crockpot of the Gods.................85
  Dimensional Gates............................85
  Life-Savers........................................85
  Protection Racquet............................85
  Stupid Hat Tricks..............................86
  Three-Piece Suits..............................86
  VCR Remotes...................................86
  . . . and THINGS! ..................................86
  Bimbiras............................................87
  Bio-Ogre ...........................................87
  Cats, the ArchDean’s........................87
  CIA Gulls..........................................88
  Dryads...............................................88
  Gerbils, Zombie................................88
  IRS Agents........................................88
  Kajones .............................................89
  Meeps................................................89
  Pigeons, Campus...............................89
  Rabbits, Lab......................................89
  Rats ...................................................90
  Squirrels............................................90
  Stranglevine Cactus ..........................91
  Turtles, Arctic Furred .......................91
  8. THE IOU 
  CAMPAIGN.............92
  IOU in Other Genres ........................93
  Campaign Style .....................................94
  Silly...................................................95
  IOU and Time Travel........................95
  Weird ................................................96
  Darkly Illuminated............................97
  Using IOU in a Time 
  Travel Campaign .........................97
  Campus Life ..........................................98
  Housing.............................................98
  Parking Permits................................98
  Transportation...................................99
  Roommates........................................99
  Food..................................................99
  Money.............................................100
  Recreation.......................................100
  Jobs Table............................................101
  9. BEYOND 
  MUNDANE............102
  Technology..........................................103
  Weird Science and TL Modifiers ....103
  Do-It-Yourself Rubber Science ......104
  Control Ratings & 
  Legality Classes .........................104
  Gadgeteering at IOU............................105
  Catalogs..........................................105
  IOU in Space...................................106
  Guaranteed Play-Balance Table .....107
  Character Death (or Otherwise) ....107
  Random Side-Effect Table .............108
  When PCs Own Too Much..............108
  Alien Tech ......................................109
  Gadgets for Non-Gadgeteers..........109
  Enigmatic Alien Device 
  Button-Pushing Table ................110
  Loaning or Selling Gadgets............110
  Gadgeteering: Inventing 
  New Devices...................................111
  Creating New Equipment ...............111
  Bugs in Gadgets..............................111
  Malfunctioning Gadgets .................112
  Optional Rule: “Gizmo” Gadgets ..113
  Gadgeteering During Adventures...114
  Quick Gadgeteering........................114
  Psionics...........................................114
  Superpowers ...................................114
  Magic...................................................115
  Pun Magic.......................................115
  Weird Magic...................................115
  10. IOU 
  ADVENTURES ......117
  One Card to Rule the Mall..............118
  The Ultimate Plot............................118
  The Egg and IOU............................118
  The Spammish Inquisition...............119
  From Bad to WUSE ........................119
  Drafted into Security.......................120
  Recruiting Drive .............................120
  Sneak Preview.................................121
  Old MacDonald had a Byte – 
  AI IOU! ......................................121
  The Martian Morons.......................121
  Terminal Exam................................122
  Off-Campus Adventures......................122
  Ya Cain’t Get Heah From Theah! ..122
  Lights! Camera! Illuminati!............123
  GLOSSARY.............124
  BIBLIOGRAPHY.....125
  3
  CCOONNTTEENNTTSS
  
  IINNTTRROODDUUCCTTIIOONN
  4
  N
  o, this isn’t a GURPS supplement about moneylenders . . . exactly. “IOU”
  stands for “Illuminati University.” If you happened to be wondering what
  the “O” is for – you’re not cleared for that information. IOU is the ultimate
  in cross-genre campaign worlds – one that combines the worst aspects of the mod-
  ern-day world, weird science, bizarre happenings, time-, space- and dimension-
  travel, and the imaginative world-view of those newspapers found only in the
  supermarket checkout lines, and puts them all in a blender set on “puree.”
  IOU is the campaign setting that will let you use everything in the GURPS
  system. Of course, you can run an IOU campaign using nothing more than the
  Basic Set, but no one at Steve Jackson Games is going to complain if you want
  to use every GURPS supplement you own, and go looking for more. We do rec-
  ommend you have GURPS Magic and GURPS Time Travel is required if you
  plan to do anything with actual time travel at IOU. GURPS Grimoire will also
  be very useful, especially its coverage of high-tech magic. GURPS Supers,
  GURPS Psionics, and GURPS Fantasy Folk may also be helpful if the GM
  allows the more exotic abilities from these books.
  OOrriiggiinnss
  Illuminati University started life as we know it as a message area on Steve
  Jackson Games’ Illuminati BBS, and will – probably – end life as we know it in
  its incarnation as this worldbook. (No, we’re not going to explain what we mean
  by that – it’s left as an exercise for the student . . .) The IOU board evolved (or
  degenerated, depending on how you look at things) into a freewheeling hybrid
  between a shared-world anthology and a roleplaying game. Meanwhile, one of
  the authors had been running a series of GURPS games at gaming conventions,
  partly inspired by R. Talsorian Games’ Teenagers From Outer Space, but with
  university students for characters. One day, the BBS board and the convention
  series suffered a violent collision, and this worldbook somehow resulted.
  Among other dubious distinctions, Illuminati University was the first uni-
  versity to be seized by the Secret Service (in the now-infamous Steve Jackson
  Games BBS raid).
  AAbboouutt tthhee AAuutthhoorrss
  Elizabeth McCoy, formerly of Austin, Texas and currently living in the
  Frozen Wastelands of southeastern New Hampshire, has numerous qualifica-
  tions for being one of the authors – including five cats, a twisted sense of humor,
  experience at three colleges of various sizes and a degree in English which
  would make a dandy dartboard if it weren’t rectangular. Of all the “traditional”
  literature which she has been forced to read in her studies, she recommends “A
  Modest Proposal” by Jonathan Swift, but hastens to point out that Illuminati
  University is much sillier.
  Walter Milliken lives in the temperate, rational suburbia of southeastern
  New Hampshire, and has a well-paying real job as a computer programmer and
  systems architect. So it isn’t quite clear how he got into the business of writing
  warped nonsense like GURPS IOU. Must be brain-damage – a view justified by
  the fact that he previously wrote the offbeat adventure “Sahudese Fire Drill” in
  GURPS Fantasy Adventures.
  About GURPS
  Steve Jackson Games is committed to full
  support of the GURPS system. Our address is SJ
  Games, Box 18957, Austin, TX 78760. Please
  include a self-addressed, stamped envelope
  (SASE) any time you write us! Resources now
  available include:
  Pyramid (www.sjgames.com/pyramid). Our
  online magazine includes new rules and articles
  for GURPS. It also covers the hobby’s top
  games – Dungeons & Dragons, Traveller,
  World of Darkness, Call of Cthulhu,
  Shadowrun, and many more – and other Steve
  Jackson Games releases like In Nomine, INWO,
  Car Wars, Toon, Ogre Miniatures, and more.
  And Pyramid subscribers also have access to
  playtest files online, to see (and comment on)
  new books before they’re released.
  New supplements and adventures. GURPS
  continues to grow, and we’ll be happy to let you
  know what’s new. A current catalog is available
  for an SASE. Or check out our Web site
  (below).
  Errata. Everyone makes mistakes, including
  us – but we do our best to fix our errors. Up-to-
  date errata sheets for all GURPS releases,
  including this book, are always available from
  SJ Games; be sure to include an SASE with your
  request. Or download them from the Web – see
  below.
  Q&A. We do our best to answer any game
  question accompanied by an SASE.
  Gamer input. We value your comments. We
  will consider them, not only for new products, but
  also when we update this book on later printings!
  Internet. Visit us on the World Wide Web at
  www.sjgames.com for an online catalog, errata,
  updates, and hundreds of pages of information.
  We also have conferences on Compuserve and
  AOL. GURPS has its own Usenet group, too:
  rec.games.frp.gurps.
  GURPSnet. Much of the online discussion of
  GURPS happens on this e-mail list. To join,
  send mail to majordomo@io.com with “sub-
  scribe GURPSnet-L” in the body, or point 
  your 
  World 
  Wide 
  Web 
  browser 
  to 
  http://gurpsnet.sjgames.com/.
  The GURPS IOU web page is at
  www.sjgames.com/gurps/books/iou.
  Page References
  Rules and statistics for this book are specifi-
  cally for the GURPS Basic Set, Third Edition,
  Revised. Any page reference that begins with a
  B refers to a page in the Basic Set – e.g., p.
  B102 means p. 102 of the Basic Set, Third
  Edition, Revised.
  Page references that begin with an M refer to
  GURPS Magic, Second Edition. Other refer-
  ences are G for GURPS Grimoire, TT for
  GURPS Time Travel, P for GURPS Psionics,
  UT for GURPS Ultra-Tech and SU for GURPS
  Supers.
  
  5
  WWEELLCCOOMMEE!!
  T
  he freshthing orientation leader ducked the
  baby Tyrannosaur’s chomp and produced a
  large-caliber pistol. After firing, he looked
  down at the messy, twitching corpse and back up at
  the group of silent frosh. He managed a half-hearted
  grin. “Just a little escapee from the Department of
  Zoology, folks. Probably let loose by a rival universi-
  ty – won’t happen after orientation.”
  
  Gillian Brent was sure that he was lying through his teeth, and she muttered
  as much to Pyewacket, the black cat in her backpack.
  One of the other freshthings was equally dubious. Hysterically, he wailed,
  “But – but the explosion in that building! The creatures you said were just staff!
  Those – those flying saucers! And the Botany building is a tree! How can anyone
  expect us to actually study here?!”
  The orientation leader grimaced and coughed into his fist. “Well, there’s a
  certain challenge inherent in taking courses at IOU, but people seem to adapt
  pretty quickly. Heck, by your second semester here, you’ll be doing just fine.”
  From his incoherent moaning, the student didn’t seem convinced. A couple
  of the Campus Security guards converged from somewhere, and helped the gib-
  bering freshthing away, heading for the Health Center.
  “Especially if you get your major from the Department of Hysteria,” the
  leader added under his breath as he watched them go. “Mundanes. Gah.”
  Gillian snickered. “I think I’m going to like it here,” she whispered to Pyewacket.
  The feline eyed a slow-moving animal that looked rather like a puff of fur
  with legs, licked his chops and replied, “Me too!”
  OBLIGATORY
  MARKETING HYPE
  The University is committed to offering excellent educational programs and
  opportunities for its students. The University’s approximately 783.2 full-time
  teaching faculty (not counting Emeriti, faculty stored in cold sleep or MIAs)
  provide a ratio of 1 full-time faculty member to about 13 full-time, living, stu-
  dents. Sixty-nine percent of the active full-time faculty hold doctoral, terminal
  or third degrees, and many have earned national and international reputations in
  their professional fields.
  A faculty member’s second responsibility is earning his, her or its pay – i.e.,
  teaching students. (The first responsibility is bringing money into the
  University.) The University considers teaching so important that it engages in
  constant surveillance and evaluation of each faculty member’s teaching by stu-
  dents, colleagues and the most advanced technologies available. Such evaluation
  is intended to promote excellence in teaching and is used in tenure, promotion,
  termination and salary decisions concerning teaching faculty.
  The University also requires its faculty to contribute to the growth of knowl-
  edge through scholarly research and to disseminate that knowledge to the commu-
  nity beyond the campus. Research normally results in the publication of books,
  articles, video tapes, holo-vids, or in talks given to scholarly associations, while
  wider dissemination is accomplished through public TV stations, appearances on
  talk shows, subliminal messages, Orbital Mind Control Lasers, explosive disper-
  sal, various programs for educating professionals, and Congressional lobbying.
  The University is located at a scenic dimensional nexus with convenient
  access to numerous world- and time-gates, not to mention the local town(s). The
  student dormitories are located in attractive corners of the campus and are har-
  monious homes for a number of different races, promoting cultural diversity.
  Other major buildings on campus are the University Library, where thou-
  sands of books, periodicals, paintings, government documents, patents, maps,
  photo albums, recordings (video, cassette tape, LP, CD and holographic) and
  sensory bio-chips are housed; the Museum, home of many fascinating exhibits
  and artworks; the Performing Arts Center, featuring two conventional theaters
  and over a dozen smaller stages for more personal works; and Maiham Stadium,
  the sports complex.
  Top 10 Reasons for
  Coming to IOU
  10. University? I thought this was a
  movie studio tour.
  9. I’m not in Kansas (any more).
  8. My saucer crashed. Here.
  7. They threatened my dog.
  6. I had a Critical Failure on a Teleport
  spell.
  5. I made a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
  4. I was paid to come here – this wor-
  ries me.
  3. I was kidnapped.
  2. I like it here.
  1. Fnord.
  Politically Correct
  Speech at IOU
  IOU is committed to providing an
  environment conducive to learning for all
  races, genders and species. Therefore,
  instead of potentially offensive terms such
  as “freshman” and “chairman,” the admin-
  istration will use politically correct terms
  such as “freshthing” and “chairthing.” We
  wish to thank the battlefleet of the
  Zubenelgenubian Interspecies Hostility
  Reduction Council for their helpful advice
  and military restraint.
  WWEELLCCOOMMEE!!
  6
  
  Illuminati University is accredited by the InterDimensional Association of
  Schools and Colleges, Inc. Accreditation by the Association indicates that the
  institution has been carefully evaluated and found to meet financial standards
  agreed upon by various professional organizations, such as the ability to pay
  them substantial paperwork processing fees.
  AADDMMIISSSSIIOONNSS
  The University welcomes visitors to the campus. Visitors – especially
  prospective students – are encouraged to contact the office of Admissions ahead of
  time to arrange for a group indoctrination session, interview or tour of the campus
  with a qualified student admissions representative. These representatives are well-
  briefed on the current academic organization of the University, and have up-to-the-
  minute information about the criteria used by the Admissions Committee in
  reviewing candidates. They are also able to plausibly explain student activities,
  living arrangements and other aspects of campus life  – and un-life.
  All candidates for admission to IOU are required to submit the results of a
  College Entrance Examination Board Scholastic Aptitude Test, Credit Rating,
  Signed Release Form, at least three favorable references obtained from prominent
  members of the community and a large suitcase filled with small, unmarked bills for
  the application processing fee. Candidates applying for majors in Art, Music,
  Journalism, Photography and Character Assassination should include a portfolio of
  their work in the suitcase. Videotapes are also acceptable, as long as they have not
  yet received commercial distribution, and all rights are signed over to the University.
  Once all appropriate forms are filled out in good order, and the student’s
  credit references are verified, the student will matriculate at the start of the next
  semester. (No, it’s not obscene, merely a big word for “entering school.”)
  FFIINNAANNCCIIAALL AAIIDD
  The University encourages students to be self-supporting, or at least
  University-supporting, but many students and their families lack sufficient funds
  to pay for tuition, room and board, and other necessary college expenses – such
  as a really good stereo. So, first the University takes the money away from the
  student, then it takes it from his parents, and finally, it is forced to take it from
  someone else.
  The traditional source is the government (which, of course, will take it away
  from the student, his parents and everyone else – except the University, which is
  tax-exempt). Other sources include rich (and foolish) Ilumni, who’ve bought
  themselves immortality by creating scholarship funds; corporations, which think
  they’re investing money in a future, useful employee; and banks, which will
  loan the student money and take their pound of flesh right after he graduates.
  IOU has carried the student loan process a step further, by cutting out the
  middleman and loaning the student tuition money directly out of University
  funds. Since it promptly gets the money back, and owns the student’s future
  earnings for the next 20 years or so, this little bit of circular accounting is quite
  profitable, and won IOU’s administration the Machiavelli Bureaucratic
  Duplicity Prize in 1984.
  CCOONNTTIINNUUIINNGG EEDDUUCCAATTIIOONN
  Not content to stick to traditional educational roles, the University offers
  courses for the convenience of working people who seek a degree or merely
  wish to broaden their knowledge of the world. A wide variety of courses are
  given after normal working hours, so that people in the outside community can
  benefit from the educational opportunities that IOU provides.
  College Acronyms
  These are the acronyms used for
  Colleges and Schools within the
  University. For more acronyms used on
  campus, see the Glossary, p. 124, which
  also contains definitions of common cam-
  pus terms, such as Ilumni and Fnord, as
  well as acronyms used by the U.S. gov-
  ernment.
  CoC: The College of Communications.
  CoM: The College of Metaphysics.
  Specializes in magic, alchemy and explo-
  sions.
  COUP: The College of Obscure and
  Unhealthy Professions. Specializes in
  covert operations of all sorts, and explo-
  sions.
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U.: The College of
  Temporal Happenstance, Ultimate Lies
  and Historical Undertakings. Specializes
  in time travel; explosions optional. Don’t
  forget the periods in the acronym.
  SASS: School of Anti-Social Sciences.
  See WUSE.
  SCA: The School of Conservative Arts.
  Specializes in raking in money. Explo-
  sions are unprofitable.
  SPCA: The School for Performing and
  Creative Arts. Specializes in artistic and
  physical arts; explosions rare, but pretty.
  SSAS: The School of Social Anti-
  Sciences. Specializes in depressing litera-
  ture and theories unconnected with reality.
  There are no uncouth explosions here.
  WUSE: The College of Weird and
  Unnatural Sciences and Engineering.
  Specializes in computers, gadgets and
  explosions.
  The “Smith & Wesson”
  Scholarship
  Some students choose to invent their
  own form of financial aid – by stealing their
  way through college. At IOU, this is consid-
  ered a sign of a highly-motivated student,
  and generally encouraged . . . unless the stu-
  dent tries to steal from the University!
  A student who pays his tuition with no
  visible means of support (and the
  University has all his financial records, so
  it knows what he can afford) is said to be
  on a “Smith & Wesson Scholarship.” Such
  students often become quite wealthy after
  graduation, so the University keeps close
  watch on them. Gathering blackmail mater-
  ial before they learn enough to be cautious
  greatly increases Ilumni donations . . .
  7
  WWEELLCCOOMMEE!!
  
  IOU is proud to be the university that pioneered the concept of “drive-
  through” classes – just the thing for today’s busy citizen with little time to spare
  for education.
  IOU OVERVIEW
  TTHHEE UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY
  Most universities strive to bring together a wide range of people from differ-
  ent cultures, worldviews and branches of knowledge, to create a vibrant intellec-
  tual community. Illuminati University takes this concept a step farther out: it is
  an intellectual crossroads in time, dimensions – and weirdness. The entire cam-
  pus is a Weirdness Magnet; if something strange happens on Earth, it probably
  happens at IOU. At least once a semester . . .
  IOU is the odd corner of the world where all the strange, non-mainstream
  people collect to find their own kind: the witches, the mad scientists, the vam-
  pires and werewolves, the psis, the rock stars . . . even the chiropractors.
  Similarly, odd artifacts and books find homes in the campus Museum, the
  Library and forgotten basements where old research projects are left to molder
  away until some unfortunate grad student turns them up on a scrounging expedi-
  tion. IOU is the place where New Age became Old Hat – in 1892.
  The University is the epitome of the academic counterculture, a bastion of
  academic ivory-tower isolation from the crass, material world. Yet the name
  implies that the whole campus is somehow associated with the ultimate masters
  of that same world . . . the Illuminati. Is IOU a dumping ground for the world’s
  misfits, or a training ground for its future rulers? Anyone studying the campus
  carefully will probably decide that both theories are accurate.
  Superficially, IOU looks like any university campus – clusters of buildings
  set in expanses of lawn and carefully-tended shrubbery, with students wandering
  along the many pedestrian walks, lounging on benches studying and playing
  Frisbee behind the dorms. Those people not blinded by a mundane worldview,
  though, will notice more: some of the architecture is decidedly odd – how many
  universities hold classes in a giant treehouse? Or have bomb craters where one
  of the science buildings used to be? Or have gargoyles that actually move to
  watch passers-by? And many of the students and faculty are . . . different.
  HHIISSTTOORRYY ((OORRAALL TTRRAADDIITTIIOONN VVEERRSSIIOONN))
  According to campus legends, the University is as old as the universe . . .
  and maybe even older, which would make the universe just another failed
  WUSE experiment. However,
  this theory is hotly contested
  by students from the College
  of Metaphysics, who point out
  that “Universes, Creation of” is
  clearly under the jurisdiction
  of the Department of Applied
  Theology (and cite J. Halvah’s
  thesis project, “Universe
  Creation in 144 Hours or Less”
  as evidence).
  Since it is so old, the Uni-
  versity had no name until a
  few more educational institu-
  tions were created and orga-
  Where in the World
  is IOU?
  The first obvious answer is that it’s
  everywhere, with branch campuses that
  are interconnected by arcane means. (IOU
  is an interdimensional nexus . . .) The sec-
  ond obvious answer is that it’s wherever
  the GM wants it to be.
  The GM is encouraged to set it in place
  of a local university, if one is handy, or a
  famous one if it’s not. This worldbook
  generally assumes that the campus is near
  a small-to medium-sized town, and has at
  least 8,000 students.
  As a reference, mundane universities
  have about 5,000 to 80,000+ students, and
  range from being the sole reason for a
  town (such as College Station, Texas) to
  sitting in the middle of a thriving city
  (such as those in Boston, Massachusetts).
  Campus Rules
  In a nutshell, these are the main rules
  that will be enforced by major deans and
  administrators, and not just Campus
  Security. In more complex terminology,
  most of these can be found in the student
  handbook, but this is the simple version
  that is passed down from student to stu-
  dent (and professor to professor).
  1: The ArchDean always gets 10%.
  2: There aren’t any exceptions to Rule
  #1. No freebies!
  3: Don’t mess with cats.
  4: Thou shalt never lower the Arch-
  Dean’s stock values.
  5: First-semester freshthings are com-
  pletely off-limits.
  6: No black holes on campus. Except
  small ones on pizza.
  7: No antimatter on campus, either.
  Even on pizza.
  8: Destruction of the Earth, the Sun or
  other Solar System objects requires the
  written permission of the ArchDean.
  9: No faculty blood-feuds without a
  current permit!
  WWEELLCCOOMMEE!!
  8
  
  nized sports teams were formed. Not having a catchy name was bad for morale,
  so the Team convinced the administration of the need to choose something.
  Thus did Illuminati University (IOU) first appear in the Moopsball Hall Of
  Fame.
  For a time, IOU thrived, producing numerous politicians, lawyers and
  high-ranking leaders in government, insurance and other forms of organized
  crime – as well as many notable Nobel Prize winners (frequently posthu-
  mous) and Pulitzer Prize-winning authors (frequently posthumorous).
  Unfortunately, the administration started suffering from that common bureau-
  cratic affliction, creeping Mundanitis, and the University began a downward
  spiral into oblivion.
  Rescue arrived in the form (and such a compelling form . . .) of the current
  ArchDean. Mysteriously, she just appeared one day, announced that IOU was
  under new management, and posted a list detailing who was being hired and
  who was being terminated. With the aid of her attractive secretarial corps, who
  handled much of the University’s public relations (and fundraising) at the time,
  the ArchDean gained financial and political backing from many leading com-
  munity figures – and Illuminati University was back in business.
  Today, IOU is the Alma Mater for more Ilumni than you can shake a con-
  spiracy at, and generates a tidy profit for the administration. Once again the stu-
  dents can learn important things like how to deal with bureaucracy, the best
  ways to get people to give them money and how to eat the weirdest pizza on
  Earth.
  And still no one knows what the “O” stands for . . . except maybe the
  ArchDean.
  SSTTUUDDEENNTT HHAANNDDBBOOOOKK ((RREEAADDEERR’’SS DDIIGGEESSTT VVEERRSSIIOONN))
  The following sections, excerpted from the IOU Student Handbook, pro-
  vide useful information on University policies of interest to student characters.
  CCllaasssseess
  Full-time undergraduate students are expected to take from 12 to 18 cred-
  it-hours of courses each semester. Most courses are 3 or 4 credit-hours, though
  some offer variable credit at the whim . . . ah, discretion of the instructor.
  Students may take fewer courses only with the permission of the dean of their
  school, or they may switch to part-time status and pay by the credit hour
  (which costs about twice as much as being a full-time student). Any excess
  hours above 18 must also be approved by the dean of the school the student is
  majoring in, and require a nominal (translation: ruinous) fee per additional
  credit.
  Normally, a bachelor’s degree requires a minimum of 120 credit hours,
  with specific requirements set for each major by the school and department
  involved. In addition, the University may set certain general education
  requirements, subject to change without notice. These always include
  Freshthing English, and a minimum of three courses outside the school of
  the student’s major – to provide the student with a broader view of the
  world. (Not to mention that several of the schools support themselves by
  providing “gimme” courses for use in fulfilling these distribution require-
  ments.)
  Each full-time student PC should choose courses; the player may make
  up interesting and suitable ones, or select from some of the sample courses
  in Chapter 3, or from a list provided by the GM. Due to scheduling constraints,
  competition for limited space, and the whim of the gods (or at least the
  University administration), students don’t always get the courses they sign
  Major Dorms
  This is brief overview of notable
  dorms on campus, where students live and
  study. The descriptions are what a student
  will be presented with . . . the removal of
  load-bearing walls, addition of a few coats
  of paint and purchase of new carpeting
  can make the scruffiest dorm room quite
  habitable.
  Butler: This dorm is officially off-
  campus, and parties can get wild – “the
  Butlers did it,” is often said when reports
  come in of green food coloring dumped in
  the town water supply. According to
  English majors, residing here is the kiss of
  death for any “artistic” hopes a student
  might have.
  de Sade: Cramped rooms, deceptively
  comfortable-looking furniture, and itty-
  bitty windows for fresh air. At least it only
  houses about 150 students – all others can
  escape it. Incongruously enough, it is also
  a “party dorm.” (Don’t ask.)
  Faustus: Gargoyles perch on the roof
  of this building; rooms are highly vari-
  able, but usually livable. The first floor is
  prone to unexpected, noisy parties around
  finals week, though.
  Jackson Hall: Locally known as
  “Jackson’s Hole,” this is the major party
  dorm on campus. Because of a profitable
  relationship with Campus Security, just
  about anything goes here, if it doesn’t vio-
  late the Campus Rules (p. 8).
  Continued on next page . . .
  9
  WWEELLCCOOMMEE!!
  
  up for, often necessitating last-minute scrambling at the start of a semester.
  Also, due to forces beyond the student’s control – such as the professor get-
  ting lost in a black hole for three months – courses may disappear or mutate
  at any time. However, the University does not refund any tuition or fees if
  this happens!
  If the GM wishes to deal with the bookkeeping, successful completion of a
  typical one-semester course counts as half a character point towards the primary
  skill taught in that
  course.
  GGrraaddeess
  Full-time students
  are expected to meet
  minimum academic –
  and financial – stan-
  dards. The University
  uses a four-point grade scale for both. Any student unable to maintain at least a
  2.0 average in at least one of the two categories will be terminated. (Any unpaid
  tuition or fees are still due to the University, of course!) In no case will a student
  with less than a 1.0 average in either category be allowed to continue at IOU.
  Students should note that most professors are quite flexible in their grading
  procedures, and suitable arrangements can usually be made if the student is hav-
  ing academic difficulties in a particular class. As an alternative, students with
  academic problems may wish to petition the deans of their schools for special
  exemptions, based on impressive non-academic activities on behalf of the
  school, such as fund-raising or donations of cash or valuable properties.
  SSttuuddyyiinngg
  Students are expected to study outside of class – approximately two hours of
  study time each week for every credit hour in a given course. Naturally, study
  time varies with the capabilities of the individual and the demands of the profes-
  sor. The GM should note that many professors suffer from the Delusion that
  “Other professors don’t give students any real homework, so I should make up
  for this.”
  The University provides many places suitable for studying, including the
  Library, student lounges and sound-insulated dormitory rooms with spacious
  desks. (Most of these are actually noisy, cramped and filled with discarded soft-
  drink cans, candy-bar wrappers, bags half full of moldy potato chips and less-
  identifiable substances, all of which contribute to an atmosphere conducive to
  learning – or deafness, ulcers, insomnia and major brain damage.)
  Some courses may require study off-campus for special projects. Students
  may need to make special arrangements if they need to be off-campus on a pro-
  ject for an extended period of time.
  CCuullttuurraall EEvveennttss
  For the cultural enrichment of the student population, the University spon-
  sors a wide variety of cultural events, including moopsball games; movies in the
  Pent; speakers on many topics; performances of dance, music, theater and other
  artistic endeavors in the Performing Arts Center; the Homecoming Carnival;
  and, of course, the weekly “Casino Night” held in the chapel.
  Many of these enrichment activities require the payment of a modest entry
  fee; others are funded from the “Student Activities Fee” included in tuition. The
  Casino Night is “free,” though anyone with a Gambling skill of less than 18 is
  likely to find it quite expensive.
  Major Dorms
  (continued)
  Louis XVI: Expensive and luxurious,
  this U-shaped, three story building (sur-
  rounding a swimming pool) is populated
  by rich students and those on sports schol-
  arships. The penthouse rooms are delight-
  ful. Parties are tasteful, elegant affairs – or
  drunken debaucheries with high toga quo-
  tients.
  Monty Hall: Thirteen stories tall, with
  tiny rooms, this is where most freshthings
  are housed; many of them swear the build-
  ing sways in high winds. It also has base-
  ment connections with the Steam Tunnels
  (p. 77).
  Murphy Hall: Where random students
  with Unluckiness congregate, for some
  reason. Thermostats stick at “arctic” or
  “sauna,” lights burn out, doors creak,
  pipes break, windows spontaneously
  crack, and most students visit the Health
  Center several times per week. Aside from
  frequent accidents, not a bad place.
  Nobody dares throw a party here, though.
  Torquemada: Like de Sade, except the
  furniture doesn’t even look comfortable
  and there are no windows or parties.
  Known for poor air circulation. Again,
  only about 150 unlucky students are
  trapped here.
  Wilson: All the really illuminated stu-
  dents hang out here. Has a lot of pyramid
  designs tucked away in it (wallpaper, car-
  peting, elevator buttons, etc.). Parties are
  usually surreal.
  WWEELLCCOOMMEE!!
  10
  
  11
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  
  IOU campaigns can be run at a wide variety of point levels.
  A student-oriented game would typically involve second-semes-
  ter Freshthings, with a total value of 100 character points. This
  lets students start with a general knowledge of the University
  and some of its eccentricities, and allows plenty of time for
  adventures before graduation. Besides students, various other
  inhabitants of the University and environs may be played at this
  point level.
  Due to the hazardous nature of the environment, point val-
  ues rise rapidly with academic achievement: sophomores are
  about 125 points, juniors, 150, and senior undergraduates have
  point totals around 175. Academic levels convey a small amount
  of status on campus, but only the transitions from freshthing to
  sophomore and undergraduate to grad student are significant
  enough to require point expenditure for increased Academic
  Status. A freshthing who has earned 125 points has probably also
  gained sufficient credit hours – or the equivalent in cash or
  blackmail material – to advance to sophomore status.
  If a higher-powered campaign is desired, characters can be
  graduate students (200-300 points), assistant professors (250-
  300 points) or full professors (300-350 points). Those wishing
  to indulge in interdepartmental politics can become department
  heads/chairthings (300 points and up), or deans (500-1000
  points). Those aspiring to the position of ArchDean should have
  at least {fnord} points.
  Denizens of IOU often have major problems, especially if
  they are powerful. Suggested disadvantage limits are -40 points
  for characters designed on 100 total points or less, -60 points for
  PCs up to 250 total points, and -100 points for characters over
  250 total points.
  Universities are full of peculiar people with wide ranges of
  skills, interests and eccentricities. Many of these characters would
  have a hard time living in the real world – academic isolation is a
  wonderful thing. This allows a great deal of latitude in character
  design, since the troublesome constraints of other settings are not
  important in university environments. (“Your character does what
  for a living?” “Early Middle-European Alliterative Poetry. He’s
  got a Ph.D. in it.” “Oh, that’s okay then.”)
  IOU characters have even more latitude in the area of eso-
  teric skills and exotic abilities. Most universities would find the
  sight of a group of students playing Frisbee – in mid-air – at
  least slightly unusual. Practicing witches, budding telepaths,
  illegal aliens from Betelgeuse V and novice supers are all wel-
  come at Illuminati University, as long as they (or their parents)
  have good credit ratings. The University is truly an equal-
  opportunity institution.
  UUnnddeerrggrraadduuaattee SSttuuddeennttss
  110000--117755 ppooiinnttss
  As a general rule, low-level undergrads will not have many
  points in skills, but will often have a considerable number of
  points invested in attributes, advantages or odd abilities. More
  advanced students will have substantial skill levels in their
  majors, as well as Area Knowledge (IOU) and Survival (IOU). 
  Undergrads don’t leave campus much until their junior or
  senior year, but then will find themselves participating in field
  trips and other assorted hazards. Players should note that under-
  graduates have a short life expectancy if they don’t have student
  life insurance for some reason.
  Refer to Chapter 3, Colleges and Departments, to choose a
  major and determine any special requirements for characters in
  that subject area. Most full-time undergrads take four courses
  each semester.
  GGrraadduuaattee SSttuuddeennttss
  220000--330000 ppooiinnttss
  These students, commonly called “gradthings” – or “free
  labor” – spend a lot of their time working for professors in labs
  (read: experiment fodder) or as teaching assistants (read:
  babysitters). Other important activities of grad students include
  starting their own side-businesses and assembling blackmail
  material on their thesis advisors. (Of course, in COUP, these are
  often the same thing.)
  Gradthings often spend much of their time off campus, partici-
  pating in conferences, running experiments on an unknowing popu-
  lace of mundanes. Course loads for grad students vary: one nearly
  finished with his degree will probably not be taking any courses,
  but rather be working hard on his thesis research (see below). New
  gradthings usually take from one to three courses per semester.
  Useful advantages for grad students are Wealth, Luck and
  Combat Reflexes. Typical skills include high skill levels in their
  degree areas, Fast-Talk, Scrounging, Teaching and often combat
  skills. Running and Stealth can also come in handy. Any of the
  Thief/Spy skills can be considered survival skills.
  The hazards of graduate life are myriad, ranging from rival
  students out to steal one’s research, to dealing with crazy facul-
  ty, to keeping one’s latest experiment from devouring all the
  vending machines on campus. Even more than undergrads, grad
  students should make sure their student life insurance is paid up.
  Graduate students need thesis advisors. The player may
  design an NPC professor in the appropriate department, or the
  GM may inflict one on the student. Advanced gradthings must
  “Your name?” asked the secretary.
  The fur-clad student shifted nervously, and adjusted his
  loincloth. “Og. One ‘g.’ Tribe of Larh.”
  “Year and major?”
  “Freshthing. Ancient History. College of Temporal
  Happenstance, Ultimate Lies and Historical Undertakings,”
  Og recited proudly, and thumped his club on the floor for
  emphasis.
  The secretary seemed unimpressed. “Very nice. I pre-
  sume you’re here on a scholarship, too.” She waited for Og
  to nod. “All right, we’ll just skip birthdate and age right
  now. Here’s the key to your room and a copy of the rules for
  University dormitories. Ah, can you read them?”
  Og took the booklet and turned it in a few different
  directions. “Og get somebody read it, then Og remember.
  No problem.” He nodded politely to the secretary and went
  outside, passing by a pointy-eared woman and someone
  with orange and green striped hair. Og tied the room key to
  the leather thong hanging from his club, examined his cam-
  pus map and set out to find his dorm.
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  12
  POINT LEVELS
  CHARACTER TYPES
  
  have a thesis topic, which the player should pick, with the GM’s
  approval. To graduate, the student must defend his thesis to a
  panel of professors from his department. At IOU, this may
  involve anything from blackmail, to Fast-Talk, to armed com-
  bat, and can make a good adventure plot.
  FFaaccuullttyy
  225500--335500 ppooiinnttss
  In many ways, the life of a junior faculty member is like
  that of a grad student, only the pay is better. In place of a
  degree, junior faculty are pursuing the Holy Grail of Tenure, but
  the methods are often similar to those used by gradthings (e.g.,
  bribery and blackmail). Faculty are expected to do research and
  publish papers bringing prestige – and profit – to the University.
  “Publish or Perish” can be literally true at IOU!
  Besides the usual hazards of doing research, faculty also
  encounter the dangers of departmental politics. These include pro-
  motion by assassination (character or actual), lack of funding and
  faculty bloodfeuds (see p. 35). Faculty are usually covered by life
  insurance provided by the University, which is a deluxe version
  of Student Health Insurance. However, faculty members in the
  ArchDean’s bad graces may find their coverage has suddenly
  lapsed, especially if they’ve been skimming profits. Tenured fac-
  ulty are eligible for the first level of The Treatment (p. 20).
  Typical advantages include Academic Status, Wealth,
  Unfazeable and Tenure (for senior professors). All faculty have
  a required -10 point Duty (to the University, quite often, fre-
  quently hazardous), and many have the Absent-Minded and
  Greed disadvantages. A very few have Sense of Duty
  (Students), while others, especially senior professors, have
  Intolerance (Undergrads). Skill levels in the 20+ range are typi-
  cal in the professor’s field, though many faculty have narrow
  specializations. Other important skills include Research, Acting,
  Detect Lies, Diplomacy, Fast-Talk, Merchant, Law and any of
  the Thief/Spy skills. Teaching skill is optional.
  Faculty are members of a department. The player should
  pick a subject area, based on the professor’s skills, and choose
  an appropriate department from Chapter 3, Colleges and
  Departments. (Or, with the GM’s approval, the player can
  invent a new department to be in, as long as the character isn’t
  the chairthing.)
  AAddmmiinniissttrraattoorrss
  330000+ ppooiinnttss
  The University employs a number of people as professional
  toadies . . . that is, administrators. These are the cream of the
  crop – the faculty and staff who have shown outstanding abili-
  ties in management, political infighting, profiteering, sophisti-
  cated blackmail and survival against all odds.
  Major administrative positions include: deans of the various
  schools within the University, the Bursar, the Chief Librarian
  and the President of the Ilumni Association. Lesser administra-
  tive positions include chairthings of departments, the Head of
  Food Services and the Head of Student Disservices.
  All administrators are required to have at least the first level
  of The Treatment advantage (see p. 20), and the disadvantage
  Duty (to the University, -10 points if the character has The
  Treatment below level 3, -5 otherwise). Major Department
  Heads/Chairthings and minor Deans should have two levels of
  The Treatment. Major deans must have the full three levels, or
  they won’t last in office long . . .
  Skills appropriate to administrators include Administration,
  Diplomacy, Fast-Talk, Accounting, Merchant, Detect Lies,
  Psychology, Politics, Acting, Intimidation, Leadership, Tactics
  and any of the Social and Thief/Spy skills. Combat skills can
  also come in handy at faculty budget meetings. Other skills
  related to job position are strictly optional – at this level, actual-
  ly knowing what you are doing is less important than being able
  to tell others what to do, and getting them to do it.
  Besides The Treatment, all administrators have Academic
  Status appropriate to their position (see the table on p. 18).
  Other typical advantages include high levels of Wealth, Luck,
  Combat Reflexes, Danger Sense or outright psi powers, Magical
  Aptitude, Patron and Ally Group –underlings, often unwilling –
  and private hit squads.
  Disadvantages common to administrators include Bully,
  Enemy, Megalomania, Greed, Miserliness, No Sense of Humor,
  Paranoia, Laziness, Intolerance (students) and various Odious
  Personal Habits. Very few administrators will have Gullibility,
  Sense of Duty (students), Honesty or Truthfulness.
  Deans of schools and other major administrators will typi-
  cally be built on 500+ points, while major school deans like
  WUSE, COUP and Metaphysics may be up to 1,000 points.
  Department heads and other lesser administrators will be 300-
  500 points, depending on the competition for, and hazards of,
  the position. Department heads in major schools like WUSE,
  COUP and Metaphysics are often 450+ points, while the head of
  the English department might only be 250.
  SSttaaffff
  00--110000 ppooiinnttss
  Besides professors and administrators, the University employs
  a large number of people to perform a variety of necessary (and
  unnecessary) jobs around campus. These jobs include cooks in the
  dining halls, flunkies in the administrative offices, departmental
  secretaries, the ever-busy repair and maintenance crews, the
  groundskeeping staff and members of Campus Security.
  Most of these people provide color to the campaign, and
  make convenient obstacles for the PCs’ plans or “red-shirts” (i.e.,
  expendable targets) for the Monster of the Week, but some of
  them may be PCs. Also, students fill many of these jobs on a part-
  time (and sometimes terminal) basis. See the Jobs Table, p. 101.
  As a rule, departmental secretaries are usually Bimbiras (p.
  87) or Kajones (p. 89) and the higher-status the boss, the higher
  the secretary’s Appearance. Some secretaries only appear to be
  Bimbiras or Kajones, and can be quite formidable. Some have
  something on the boss . . . Their status is their bosses’ Status -2.
  Staff members need skills appropriate to their positions, as
  well as Survival (IOU) and Area Knowledge (IOU). It can be
  very embarrassing to be late to work because you forgot that the
  building would be on the south side of campus this week.
  Exception: Campus Security members need no skills whatsoev-
  er – the University will take anyone who hasn’t yet heard about
  the working conditions (and expected lifespan).
  Useful advantages and common disadvantages vary with
  job position. Cooks, for example, can benefit from Immunity to
  Poison and Cast Iron Stomach and often have No Sense of
  Smell/Taste. Members of Campus Security who have survived
  more than a month in their jobs usually have Paranoia and
  Cowardice. All staff normally have health insurance, for no
  point cost, and must have at least a -5 point Duty (to IOU).
  Many staff members have Greed or Miserliness, and few have
  more than average Wealth.
  IIlluummnnii
  220000+ ppooiinnttss
  These are the lucky few who have graduated from IOU.
  They may be visiting campus, or a campaign could be devel-
  oped around a group of classmates who have graduated. Some
  Ilumni may hang around campus because it’s one of the few
  places in an otherwise mundane world where they fit in. Or they
  may have more sinister reasons for lurking . . .
  13
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  
  Ilumni should be designed much like senior undergrads or
  grad students, only their skill levels will be somewhat higher.
  (Wealth levels will usually be much higher.) Most Ilumni will
  have jobs of some sort, usually suited to their skills.
  As a rule, Ilumni have the No Insurance disadvantage, since
  they aren’t part of the campus community, and thus are not cov-
  ered by the peculiar medical services available at IOU.
  However, a local Ilumnus has the option of buying University
  life insurance through the Ilumni Association. Cost varies with
  the character’s income, but will always be at least 20% of the
  character’s monthly income, due promptly on the first of each
  month, in advance.
  VViissiittoorrss
  2255--115500+ ppooiinnttss
  Visitors to the campus come in five general flavors:
  prospective students and their parents, academic visitors, job-
  seekers, salespeople and intruders.
  Prospective students are treated very well indeed (as
  long as they’ve got decent credit
  ratings). They are not usually
  suitable for PCs, since they
  have low point values, and aren’t yet clued in to the true nature
  of IOU. They mostly fall into the category of “innocent
  bystanders,” though sometimes they may be the source of prob-
  lems. However, an IOU campaign might start with students vis-
  iting campus, in which case 100-point characters are recom-
  mended. This is also a good way to introduce a new player into
  an ongoing IOU campaign.
  Academic visitors are professors and students from other
  universities who are on campus for a conference, a sports event
  or are working on collaborative projects with IOU professors.
  They should be designed like the corresponding IOU denizens,
  except that they will have the No Insurance disadvantage.
  (There are other universities inhabited by weird characters with
  odd powers – often IOU rivals.) These characters are best suited
  to one-shot games.
  Job-seekers are would-be staff, usually attracted by IOU’s
  high pay, good benefits and totally deceptive “Help Wanted”
  advertisements. They should be designed like ordinary staff,
  though Mundane Background is a common disadvantage, as are
  Gullibility and low IQ. New players with staff characters may
  be brought into the campaign in this way.
  Salespeople are generally known on campus as “targets.”
  They are not usually suitable for PCs, though there are some
  outside food and handicraft vendors who regularly bring push-
  carts onto the campus. The primary characteristic of salespeople
  is a high level of Fast-Talk skill, and they often have Voice or
  other influence-related advantages. Salespeople who bother the
  ArchDean (or fail to pay her “tax” for on-campus sales) usually
  disappear quickly.
  Intruders are visitors with sinister motivations, often spying
  on the campus, attempting to sabotage someone’s research or
  kidnapping a Filthy Rich student. Or they could simply be IRS
  agents or other terrorists. They may be masquerading as any of
  the more innocuous visitors, but are much higher in point value
  (150+ points). Intruders are normally heavy in Thief/Spy and
  Social skills, and have corresponding advantages; Mundanity
  (see p. 19) is common – and annoying. Typical disadvantages
  include Intolerance, Greed, Fanaticism, Secret, No Sense of
  Humor and Duty. Most intruders are quickly discovered by the
  ArchDean’s efficient surveillance systems and intelligence
  sources, but she doesn’t always inform anyone else . . . after all,
  it’s good practice for the COUP students.
  All visitors have the No Insurance disadvantage, though the
  ArchDean might “generously”
  allow use of the campus medical
  facilities to a potential student
  caught in crossfire. (The parents
  are likely to sue . . .)
  VViissiittiinngg 
  FFaaccuullttyy 
  115500--440000 ppooiinnttss
  These are professors with per-
  manent positions at other schools,
  temporarily working at the
  University for a semester or two.
  They may be working on a special
  project requiring facilities only
  available at IOU, or they may have
  special expertise in an esoteric sub-
  ject, and have been invited to lecture
  at the University for the prestige value.
  Visiting faculty never have the Tenure
  advantage (at IOU – they may be tenured at their
  “home” school), nor can they have any level of The
  Treatment. They are covered by the University’s faculty life
  insurance plan. Academic Status is normal for the professor’s
  rank, but Wealth levels will usually be below those of compa-
  rable IOU professors. Skill levels in Area Knowledge (IOU)
  and Survival (IOU) will be lower than average IOU faculty –
  visiting professors have a distressing tendency to get lost, or
  get eaten by wandering monst . . . ah, experiments. Otherwise,
  they should be designed as normal IOU professors.
  LLooccaall CCiittiizzeennrryy
  00--110000 ppooiinnttss
  Like any university, IOU is surrounded by off-campus busi-
  nesses catering to the students: bars, pizza joints, rental housing,
  fast-food franchises, tarot readers, used book/clothing/furniture
  stores, laundromats and police stations. There is also the nearby
  Pyramid Mall, with 523 stores (give or take a dozen – they
  change frequently) and the quiet residential district of
  University Heights, where many of the IOU faculty live.
  This provides a wide assortment of irate shopkeepers, local
  weirdos and eccentric neighbors. It is also possible for some of
  these characters to become involved in a campaign as PCs, if the
  GM is sufficiently clever.
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  14
  
  This section discusses standard advantages that need special
  treatment in an Illuminati University campaign. Also, advan-
  tages from any GURPS sourcebook or worldbook can be used
  for IOU characters, with the GMs approval. Psi, magic and
  super powers are all fairly common, and aliens with odd abili-
  ties are not unknown.
  AAllllyy
  SSeeee pp.. BB2233
  At IOU, it is possible to obtain an unwilling Ally through
  blackmail or other forms of coercion. Such allies work different-
  ly than the “reliable” allies described in the Basic Set. An
  unwilling Ally does not have the PC as an Ally, and the charac-
  ter isn’t required to treat the Ally as well as he would a “nor-
  mal” Ally. However, if the PC endangers the Ally, or attempts
  to get him to do something sufficiently unpleasant, the “Ally”
  may rebel, and the hold on the Ally is lost. (In game terms, the
  PC loses the Ally advantage, permanently.) Naturally, betraying
  the Ally will also terminate the relationship. (This happens if the
  PC reveals the Ally’s Secret, or otherwise loses the “hold”
  through exposure.)
  Because unwilling Allies are less reliable – and probably
  hate your guts – they are cheaper than regular Allies of the same
  power. An unwilling Ally has 25 more character points than a
  willing Ally of the same point cost. Example: a “standard” Ally
  of 100 points costs the PC 5 points, while the same 5 points
  buys a 125-point unwilling Ally.
  AAllllyy GGrroouupp
  SSeeee pp.. BB223322
  Typical small groups include apartment mates or a lab
  team. The Team, the members of a sorority or fraternity, or a
  professors’ class of students count as a medium group. The
  local Ilumni Association, the professors in a University depart-
  ment, or the students in a particular dorm count as a large
  group. The 100-point limit on members does not apply at IOU
  – each additional 25 points per member raises the Ally
  Group’s cost by 10.
  An entire school of the University may be purchased as a
  Patron, but cannot be an Ally Group.
  Unwilling Ally Groups are groups of people who owe a col-
  lective Duty to the character through coercion. A typical exam-
  ple at IOU is a class of students, who must do as their professor
  orders or fail the course. Members of an unwilling Ally Group
  are 25 points higher as individuals, for the same point cost for
  the Ally Group. For example, for a base cost of 10 points, an
  unwilling Ally Group of small size would be composed of 100-
  point characters. See Ally, above, for more on the behavior of
  unwilling allies.
  Local citizens never have any of the University-related
  advantages (such as Tenure or The Treatment), and will
  always have the No Insurance disadvantage (unless they are
  also Ilumni who pay for the privilege). Skills and advantages
  tend to match the citizen’s job; many of them have high levels
  of Merchant and Detect Lies skill. Since the University is a
  Weirdness Magnet, the local citizens may have odd advan-
  tages like psi powers or Magical Aptitude. Few of the locals
  will have the Mundane Background disadvantage, unless
  they’re Mundanes or recent arrivals – they’ve witnessed too
  many odd things coming from the campus.
  (Many locals have developed the Unfazeable
  advantage as a result.)
  OOtthheerr
  vvaarriiaabbllee
  IOU is a Weirdness Magnet without peer:
  sometimes hapless individuals or groups wander
  onto campus by mistake, or hitchhikers are
  dropped off by alien spacecraft on their way to
  Mars, or pesky heroes are teleported in by evil
  wizards from alternate dimensions.
  What with one thing and another (like over-
  reactions by students in the Department of
  Military Science and Cost Overruns’ course,
  “Military Overkill and its Applications”), these
  transients often lose their transportation and get
  stuck on campus for a while; some of them for
  several centuries. Others simply like the
  University’s ambience (such as the radiation
  leaks from the power plant, or the frat parties)
  and just hang around. A few of them are still try-
  ing to find their way off-campus – helpful stu-
  dents keep giving them directions.
  Whatever the reason, an assortment of enti-
  ties not strictly affiliated with the University
  can be found on campus. Such characters can
  make interesting PCs, though it is rather dangerous – the No
  Insurance disadvantage is required. On the other hand, any-
  thing goes for other advantages, disadvantages and skills (at
  least anything that doesn’t send the GM screaming for the
  door). All you need is a character story, and for IOU, it
  doesn’t even have to be very convincing.
  IIlllluummiinnaattii
  {{ffnnoorrdd}} ppooiinnttss
  Since playing Illuminati is so expensive, there are none in
  the campaign. This is really true. Trust us.
  15
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  ADVANTAGES
  
  Like advantages, disadvantages from other GURPS world-
  books are generally applicable to an IOU campaign, with GM
  approval. A few disadvantages from the Basic Set and other
  GURPS books need special explanation.
  The GM may choose not to count disadvantages that will
  vanish over the course of the campaign (e.g., negative Academic
  Status) against the disadvantage limit for characters.
  DDuuttyy
  SSeeee pp.. BB3399
  Duties are very popular at IOU, especially with faculty and
  administrators, who think that anyone below them in the pecking
  order owes them . . . 
  Examples of common Duties at IOU: 
  Students to professors: homework, aka scutwork: quite
  often, but not usually very hazardous, -5 points. (This covers all
  the student’s classes, not just one.)
  Grad students to thesis advisors: almost all the time, may or
  may not be hazardous, depending on research topic, -15/-10 points.
  Research assistants to professors: fairly often, usually haz-
  ardous, -5 points.
  Campus Security to IOU: almost all the time, extremely
  hazardous (see p. SU16), -20 points.
  EEnneemmyy
  SSeeee pp.. BB3399
  A common Enemy for students is a roommate. Such
  Enemies are usually worth only -5 points, and appear quite often
  (roll of 12-). A very irritating roommate, or several normal
  roommates, might be worth -10 points.
  IIlllliitteerraaccyy
  SSeeee pp.. BB3333
  All students, faculty and staff at IOU should be literate, to
  avoid taking remedial English courses for the next decade. The
  only exception is the Team, for which literacy is optional.
  Illiteracy is a -10 point disadvantage in a modern IOU campaign.
  PPoovveerrttyy
  SSeeee pp.. BB1166
  Illuminati University gives the term “Dead Broke” a whole
  new meaning – this disadvantage is often fatal at IOU. Poverty
  may be survivable, if the character has some overwhelming spe-
  cial talent that will win a scholarship, like being the world’s best
  moopsball player or the ability to spin straw into gold. Taking the
  ArchDean as a Patron also works, but costs a lot of points, and
  will put the character in line for many dangerous and unpleasant
  jobs, like cleaning litterboxes for the ArchDean’s cats.
  PC students with Poverty can be assumed to have a scholar-
  ship, but must either have a non-mundane advantage, or an IQ or
  DX of 14 or above. The character will almost certainly need to
  have a job, as the scholarship will only cover the basics of tuition
  and room & board. Edible food, transportation and textbook
  LLuucckk
  SSeeee pp.. BB2211
  Both normal Luck (15 points) and Extraordinary Luck (30
  points) can be useful to students at IOU. So, for that matter, can
  Ridiculous Luck, usable every 10 minutes, for 60 points. The GM
  may also permit Super Luck, which allows the player – rather than
  rolling dice at all – to dictate the result of any one die roll made by
  his character (or by the GM, for his character) once per hour of
  playing time. Wholly impossible attempts still cannot succeed, but
  the player can choose any result which would be possible, no mat-
  ter how unlikely, on a single normal die roll. This costs 100 points.
  A character can take Super Luck and any degree of “nor-
  mal” Luck, but Super Luck cannot be taken more than once.
  PPaattrroonn
  SSeeee pp.. BB2244
  Like Allies, Patrons may be acquired at IOU by coercive
  means. The basic rules for unwilling Allies also apply to unwill-
  ing Patrons. Unwilling Patrons have a base cost 5 points less
  than “standard” Patrons. For example, a 150 point character nor-
  mally costs 10 points as a Patron. An unwilling 150 point Patron
  has a base cost of only 5 points.
  Since Patrons are more powerful than PCs, taking an unwill-
  ing Patron is risky – if the Patron can find a way to break the
  “hold,” he will, and will probably become an Enemy! Unwilling
  Patrons are most popular with COUP students.
  Students with a professor as a mentor may take him as a
  regular Patron.
  UUnnuussuuaall BBaacckkggrroouunndd
  SSeeee pp.. BB2233
  This advantage is nearly meaningless at IOU. In most cases,
  the cost of an advantage or exotic skill will be enough. GMs
  could charge an Unusual Background for a student who somehow
  managed to take (and survive) the first level of The Treatment,
  say. Real live demi-deities, people with unrestricted access to
  technology above TL8 and greater demons would have an
  Unusual Background at the University.
  WWeeaalltthh
  SSeeee pp.. BB1166
  Large quantities of cash are very useful at IOU. A careful-
  ly-suppressed survey of IOU students showed that 91% of them
  come from Wealthy or higher backgrounds. In addition, many
  students, faculty and administrators are extremely wealthy. To
  represent this, use the Multimillionaire advantage (p. B237).
  Student Wealth levels below Very Wealthy receive special treat-
  ment – see Money, p. 100.
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  16
  DISADVANTAGES
  
  Virtually any skill imaginable is taught somewhere at IOU,
  so characters may have skills from any GURPS book. New spe-
  cializations of two standard skills are very useful on campus:
  AArreeaa KKnnoowwlleeddggee ((IIOOUU)) ((MMeennttaall//EEaassyy)) 
  Without this skill, the character will get lost on campus with
  amazing frequency. Buildings at IOU are poorly labeled, and
  connected together in ways that would give topologists night-
  mares. Sometimes buildings seem to move around . . . without
  notice . . . even while you’re inside. Walkways and tunnels that
  start on campus don’t always end there – sometimes a path leads
  to a building in an entirely different city, or another time.
  A successful Area Knowledge (IOU) roll is required to
  locate a specific building, or to find a shortcut to a class you’re
  running late for. On a critical success, you may arrive at your
  class before you left your dorm. On a critical failure, you may
  take a shortcut through the nuclear power plant’s reactor core or
  find yourself at Custer’s Last Stand. An ordinary failure just
  makes you late for class or sends you right past the office of the
  professor you’ve been avoiding for the last week.
  SSuurrvviivvaall ((IIOOUU)) ((MMeennttaall//AAvveerraaggee))
  This skill is a wide-ranging general knowledge about the
  hazards on the IOU campus. Characters with this skill will know
  how to get around “Keep Off Grass” signs, where to
  find a safe cup of coffee, which buildings are sturdy
  enough to survive giant simians sitting on them and
  where the vending machines with edible food are
  located on campus. They also know which drinking
  fountains are spiked with Everclear, and the fourteen
  different hazard symbols that indicate one should not
  push that button or pull this lever. High levels of
  Survival (IOU) can result in almost prescient-seeming
  actions – such as nonchalantly ducking just as a UFO
  sweeps overhead, or removing valuables from a win-
  dow sill before something big, winged and ugly crash-
  es through the window – as the character becomes
  attuned to subtle and subliminal cues from the sur-
  rounding environment.
  In particular, any roll to notice something poten-
  tially dangerous on campus should use the higher of
  the appropriate perception roll, a relevant skill or
  Survival (IOU). For instance, walking into a trap could
  get a roll on Danger Sense, Traps skill or Survival
  (IOU). Sometimes this can result in “defaults” to odd
  skills. GM: “Francis, make a Vision roll. Okay, there’s
  a flashing sign on the reactor saying ‘Radiation
  Hazard.’ Yolanda, roll against Nuclear Physics. You
  notice that the neutron absorption rate indicator is too
  low – the reactor’s gonna blow soon. Wolfgang, ah,
  roll against your Survival (IOU) skill. You notice
  George the Janitor is leaning on an extra-large push-
  broom, over behind the blast shield.”
  The Danger Sense advantage gives a +2 bonus to
  Survival (IOU).
  costs are all additional expenses, requiring the character to
  cough up his personal cash.
  PPrriimmiittiivvee
  SSeeee pp.. BB2266
  Because IOU students come from a wide variety of Tech
  Levels, this disadvantage is fairly common. When the TL differ-
  ence is large, this can lead to “useless” characters, requiring the
  disadvantage to be bought off quickly. Thus, it is recommended
  that the GM not count Primitive against the standard 40-point
  limit for disadvantages. (This also ensures that the GM will
  have some “hooks” left on the character when the Primitive dis-
  advantage is bought off.)
  SSoocciiaall SSttiiggmmaa
  SSeeee pp.. BB2277
  Nerds (most WUSE students and faculty) have the “outsider”
  Social Stigma, getting a -3 reaction from virtually everybody,
  except that they get a +3 from other Nerds (including WUSE fac-
  ulty). Jocks (p. 18) react to Nerds at -4, and vice versa.
  Mundanes (characters with Mundanity, p. 19, but not
  Mundane Background, p. 22) also qualify as “outsiders” at IOU,
  getting a -3 reaction from most residents, and a +3 reaction from
  each other (they tend to band together).
  WWeeiirrddnneessss MMaaggnneett
  SSeeee pp.. BB223399
  This disadvantage usually has no effect at IOU, since any-
  thing can and does happen to characters already. The GM may
  permit a PC to take Weirdness Magnet, but should escalate the
  weird happenings to an entirely new level – to be worth -15
  points at IOU, occurrences should be truly inconvenient. Say,
  being kidnapped on the way to finals to be a tour guide for aliens
  looking for the San Andreas Fault, or falling down a meep-hole
  into an alternate dimension based on television commercials.
  17
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  SKILLS
  
  AAccaaddeemmiicc SSttaattuuss
  55 ppooiinnttss//lleevveell
  Status on campus depends more on position in the Univer-
  sity pecking order than status in the outside world. This is repre-
  sented by the advantage (or disadvantage, for lowly students) of
  Academic Status. The following table shows the levels of
  Academic Status.
  Level
  Title
  7
  ArchDean
  6
  Dean, really senior administrator
  5
  Department Head, Chairthing, senior administrator, cats
  4
  Titled professor (holding a titled chair),
  Junior administrator
  3
  Tenured professor, petty bureaucrat
  2
  Professor
  1
  Assistant professor, really senior staff
  0
  Graduate student, senior staff
  -1
  Undergraduate student, departmental secretary, staff
  -2
  Freshthing
  -3
  High school students and other clueless lowlife
  Like Social Status, Academic Status requires “upkeep”
  expenses – use the cost for the equivalent level of Social Status
  (see p. B191), divided by two. This represents living expenses,
  including hosting parties, paying bribes and the considerable
  costs of insurance and security services. (Armored cars don’t
  come cheap.)
  Academic Status also confers some Social Status off-campus;
  halve the level of Academic Status and round down to get Social
  Status. Social Status derived from Academic Status requires no
  cost to maintain, beyond that required to maintain the Academic
  Status.
  Regular Social Status may also be purchased, and adds
  directly to Academic Status. For example, a Freshthing with a
  Social Status of +2 would have a total status of 0 at IOU.
  Because students will normally buy off negative Academic
  Status during the campaign, it does not count against character
  disadvantage limits.
  CCaasstt IIrroonn SSttoommaacchh
  1155 ppooiinnttss
  You can eat things no self-respecting campus cur would
  touch (gristle, month-old pizza, half-rotten vegetables, warm
  beer, fuzzy blue-green meat, cafeteria food), as long as it’s of
  the proper biochemical base. You also get a +4 to resist the
  effects of any poison, disease or drug not specifically tailored
  for you.
  You can reduce your food costs by 75%. However, you then
  get a -3 reaction modifier from anyone watching you eat! (Or
  even afterward, if you forget to brush your teeth after eating . . .)
  This advantage is mostly found among aliens and campus
  food service cooks.
  GGaaddggeetteeeerr
  2255//5500 ppooiinnttss
  You are a “natural” inventor. You can modify existing
  equipment, and given enough time and money, create entirely
  new gadgets. This advantage allows you to use the gadgeteering
  rules on p. 111. Standard gadgeteering costs 25 points. The GM
  may also allow the 50-point Quick Gadgeteer advantage, which
  permits you to build weird and wondrous gadgets almost
  instantly, from common household materials.
  HHeeaalltthh//LLiiffee IInnssuurraannccee
  00 ppooiinnttss
  All denizens of the University normally get some form of
  health and life insurance, which provides a “death benefit” of
  resurrection (see the Character Death (or Otherwise) sidebar on
  p. 107), and also entitles the holder to treatment in the
  University’s medical facilities for lesser trauma. Since this is a
  “built-in” advantage in IOU campaigns, there is no point cost.
  However, a character might not have this insurance for some
  reason, giving him the No Insurance disadvantage (p. 23).
  Mundanes (see p. 19) are only eligible for traditional med-
  ical insurance, as most of the methods used to make death a
  temporary inconvenience will not work on them. Fortunately,
  they are often unaffected by typical campus hazards. (“That
  can’t be a real nuclear bomb!”)
  HHoonnoorr SSttuuddeenntt
  33 ppooiinnttss
  Honor students get a +1 reaction from faculty and adminis-
  trative personnel, and a -1 reaction from Jocks. An Honor
  Student must have a minimum IQ of 13. Glasses are optional.
  IImmmmuunniittyy ttoo PPooiissoonn
  1155 ppooiinnttss
  You are immune to the effect of any toxins. This doesn’t
  confer immunity to a corrosive substance such as hydrochloric
  acid, just to bona fide biological or chemical poisons. If there is
  a question, the GM’s decision (as always) rules.
  This advantage is found in alien species, cafeteria cooks,
  and as part of The Treatment (p. 20).
  JJoocckk
  33 ppooiinnttss
  Jocks get a +1 reaction from faculty (through intimidation)
  and sports-loving Ilumni, and a -1 reaction from honor students
  and administrators. Nerds react to Jocks at -4, and vice versa. A
  Jock must have at least a 13 in either DX or ST and an HT of at
  least 11. IQ is optional.
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  18
  NEW ADVANTAGES
  
  MMuunnddaanniittyy
  55 ppooiinnttss ppeerr lleevveell
  You are that unfortunate (or fortunate) creature known as a
  Mundane. On the strange and wonderful grounds of IOU, you
  see nothing out of the ordinary. You automatically have the
  Mundane Background disadvantage (p. 22) and get no points for
  it, though you might wish that fantastic powers and UFOs were
  real. You cannot have any paranormal advantages or disadvan-
  tages, and couldn’t use them if you did (though Mundanity itself
  can be considered a “closet” superpower).
  Nothing “odd” (magic, psi, Weird Science, aliens, sum-
  moned demons, etc.) can affect a character with Mundanity.
  “Odd” is defined as anything the GM rules to be totally incon-
  sistent with the Mundane’s worldview – this can include “nor-
  mal,” but unbelievable, hazards like being strafed by an F-15 or
  standing next to a nuclear bomb. The strength of this effect is
  measured by the character’s Reality Check level, the use of
  which is described below.
  The GM should note that Mundanes native to other times or
  realities, who lack experience with high technology or similar
  magic, may suppress standard TL7 technology!
  First-level Mundanes simply don’t notice strange things. If a
  flying carpet swooped in front of one, he would blink. The most
  that he could see of a strange manifestation would be something
  he could explain away as “special effects.” He might or might not
  see illusions – the GM decides each case, based on how “normal”
  the illusion looks. Deliberate attempts to show the PC something
  strange will fail, even if it necessitates a “GM ex machina.”
  Attacks on the character using non-mundane means must
  pass a Reality Check first (see below). Otherwise, laser-toting
  aliens, psionic mind-blasts or fireball-throwing wizards will all
  have “bad luck,” while the unwitting target is busy looking at
  the attractive co-ed diving for cover across the Pent. (Mundanes
  often think other IOU denizens are crazy: they seem to overreact
  to everything, and are so paranoid . . .)
  It is possible to read the mind of a first-level Mundane, or
  otherwise harass him with strange abilities, but it has to be done
  in such a way that there is a plausible mundane explanation, and
  does not directly affect him; again, the GM must decide. For
  example, a UFO couldn’t hit a Mundane with its death ray, but
  could topple the building next to him – falling walls have many
  possible causes.
  First-level Mundanes have a Reality Check level of 13.
  Second-level Mundanity is much like the first level, except
  that the character has a mundane “aura” that affects the six hexes
  immediately adjacent to him – nothing “odd” will work in that
  area. (Summoned demons and other metaphysical nasties won’t
  be able to enter that area at all, which other characters may take
  advantage of.) At this level, there is a -5 to attempts to read the
  Mundane’s mind, cast Knowledge spells on or about him, affect
  his personal belongings or use similar indirect abilities.
  Second-level Mundanes have a Reality Check level of 15.
  The third level adds the effect that anything the Mundane
  notices becomes mundane while he looks at it. This will not
  normally impact things that don’t directly affect him, but any
  aliens threatening him with zap-guns will find that their arsenal
  has turned into stage props while he’s enjoying the antics of the
  “drama students.” Savvy characters will equip their flying car-
  pets with “wires” lest a Mundane see something more than spe-
  cial effects being tested.
  Third-level Mundanes have a Reality Check level of 17.
  If any further levels of Mundanity are permitted, they would
  have the effect of making things remain mundane for a while after
  the character left the area–maybe even permanently! The Reality
  Check level remains at 17 for any additional levels of Mundanity.
  This powerful advantage is cheap because it comes with a
  number of built-in disadvantages. First there is the Mundane
  Background that accompanies it, which cannot be bought off.
  Second, it only works for a character created in the IOU world;
  it usually wears off if the PC is somehow transported to another
  dimension. (Unlike many lost advantages, the player may get to
  buy another advantage with the freed points after a while.
  Former Mundanes have been known to mutate into powerful
  psis, for instance.) Finally, a Mundane character leads a dull
  existence, comparatively speaking, and often gets fewer experi-
  ence points. This advantage is most appropriate to NPCs.
  Most characters on campus react to a obvious Mundane at -3
  (an “outsider” Social Stigma), since they cause so many prob-
  lems with “fun” abilities and toys. Powerful Mundanes often
  have an additional negative Reputation. Mundanes frequently
  have the Clueless disadvantage (p. 21).
  Some students have wondered what would happen if a
  Mundane and the ArchDean interacted. Unfortunately, no one
  can ever remember seeing this happen. Perhaps the Universe
  prevents irresistible forces from meeting immovable objects.
  RReeaalliittyy CChheecckkss
  Any time something “weird” (GM’s decision) might be seen
  by, or affect, a Mundane, the GM should make a Reality Check
  roll for the Mundane character. Roll three dice against the charac-
  ter’s Reality Check level, like a skill roll. If the roll succeeds, the
  Mundane has forced a Reality Check on the attack or power, and
  it fails. Otherwise, proceed normally with the attack or power use.
  The GM should decide the results of successful Reality
  Checks according to circumstances, the type of effect attempted
  and the level of Mundanity of the character. A few guidelines:
  19
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  
  Attacks on the Mundane miss (first two levels of Mun-
  danity) or misfire (third-level and higher Mundanes).
  Weird happenings aren’t noticed at all (first- and second-
  level Mundanes), or fail to happen (third-level and higher).
  Unbelievable gadgets and weapons turn into kids’ toys or
  movie props (Mundanity 3+).
  Monsters, demons and aliens ignore first and second-level
  Mundanes (and vice-versa). Higher-power Mundanes temporari-
  ly turn them into men in rubber costumes, which can be very
  disconcerting to the poor victims! Using Mundanes as sacrifices
  to demons is generally a bad idea.
  IQ and skills do not affect Reality Checks – knowledge is a
  two-edged sword. A smarter (or more skilled) character is more
  likely to understand something is “off,” but is also more likely
  to think of a mundane explanation and ignore the phenomenon –
  probably to his detriment.
  If the Reality Check fails (i.e., the attack or power works on
  the Mundane), the Mundane will be affected, but will develop a
  minor Delusion about what happened. For example, if a Martian
  succeeds in shooting Fred with a laser pistol, Fred will be firmly
  convinced that a terrorist shot him with a .44 Magnum, and no
  argument or evidence to the contrary will shake this conviction.
  On a Reality Check roll of 3 or 4 (a critical success for the
  Mundane), the GM should treat it as a critical failure of the skill
  that provoked the check. A critical failure on the Reality Check
  roll (17 or 18 for Mundanity 1-2, 18 for Mundanity 3+) not only
  permits the effect, but the Mundane must roll on the Fright
  Check table at +5 and take an appropriate Delusion to cover the
  memory of the actual event.
  RRaappiieerr WWiitt
  55 ppooiinnttss
  This advantage allows the character to use verbal attacks in
  combat. Roll a contest of Bard skill vs. the IQ of the opponent.
  A success causes the opponent to be mentally stunned (see p.
  B127). A critical success also causes one point of physical dam-
  age – the opponent injures himself accidentally (by dropping
  something on his foot, choking on his own tongue, etc.). A fail-
  ure has no effect, and a critical failure enrages the opponent.
  (This may trigger disadvantages like Berserk or Bloodlust . . .)
  A Rapier Wit attack does not count as a combat action, since
  talking is a free action (p. B107).
  Rapier Wit may be used to affect a group, with a skill
  penalty of -1 for each additional opponent. The enemy group
  must have something in common which is known to the charac-
  ter using this advantage, e.g., the Team, a group of Men in
  Black or students with a particular major.
  For PCs, the GM may assign a modifier based on the player’s
  description of the verbal attack. There is a -2 penalty to skill if the
  target has the No Sense of Humor or Clueless disadvantages.
  This advantage is available to characters with Mundanity or
  Mundane Background.
  SSeeccrreett AAddvvaannttaaggee
  VVaarriiaabbllee
  The character has some advantage he is unaware of. This
  could be a latent magical, psi or super ability, a secret Patron,
  resistance to magic or psi, Immunity to Disease or even secret
  social advantages (the character will inherit a million dollars from
  a distant aunt, or is the long-lost Princess of Upper Fnordia).
  The player sets a value for the Secret Advantage, and the
  GM picks an appropriate advantage worth 5 points more than
  the cost of the secret. (The player should not be told the nature
  of the advantage.) Example: a player designs a character with a
  20 point Secret Advantage. The GM determines that the charac-
  ter is the half-breed child of a human with an alien, and is being
  watched over by a TL12 AI – a secret 25-point Patron who will
  intervene indirectly if the character gets into serious trouble.
  When the advantage is revealed (usually determined by the
  GM’s sense of dramatic timing), the extra 5 points for the advan-
  tage must be paid as soon as possible; these points were effective-
  ly “on loan” until the secret was revealed. The GM may assign
  more than one advantage to a single Secret Advantage, if desired.
  The GM may also wish to treat the Secret Advantage as a
  “Schrödinger’s Advantage.” Instead of choosing an advantage
  when the character is created, he waits for some critical juncture
  in an adventure, just when all seems lost. Then the character sud-
  denly discovers a new ability, which just happens to be the ticket
  out of trouble. Of course, the advantage, once revealed, is “fixed.”
  TTeennuurree
  55 ppooiinnttss
  This advantage applies only to professors. A professor with
  the Tenure advantage may not be fired. Or “terminated.” Or
  incinerated in a “lab accident.” In other words, the lucky charac-
  ter has some sort of hold on someone high up in the University
  hierarchy, and can’t be gotten rid of.
  However, the character is still subject to real accidents, fac-
  ulty bloodfeuds (p. 35) and marauding alien invaders, not to
  mention a lot of general unpleasantness. But his job – and salary
  – is guaranteed for life.
  Professors with Tenure also gain a level of Academic
  Status, which must be paid for separately.
  TThhee TTrreeaattmmeenntt
  112255//225500//550000 ppooiinnttss
  This advantage gives senior faculty and high-level adminis-
  trators a generic immunity to the more common dangers on cam-
  pus (especially gunfire and explosions). Without such a “perk,”
  the upper levels of the pecking order would never have time to
  get any work done – they’d spend all their time in the Lazarus
  Health Center, recovering from attacks by ambitious underlings,
  enemy departments and disgruntled students, as well as from the
  myriad “normal” hazards of IOU life, such as faculty parties.
  At least the first level of The Treatment is required to
  advance beyond the rank of tenured professor. There are three
  different levels of protection, starting with a resistance to damage
  at the first level, while the third level confers the ability to stand
  at ground zero in a WUSE lab during finals week while drinking
  sulfuric acid and making rude remarks about demigods.
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  20
  
  CClluueelleessss
  --1100 ppooiinnttss
  Clueless characters totally miss the point of any wit aimed
  at them, any attempts at seducing them (+4 to Will rolls vs.
  Sex Appeal), or meanings of colloquial expressions.
  Sophisticated manners are also beyond them – apply a -4 mod-
  ifier to all Savoir-Faire rolls. This disadvantage is most appro-
  priate to ivory-tower geniuses, aliens from Mars, Mundanes
  and members of the Team. Most characters react to Clueless
  individuals at -2.
  Unlike the No Sense of Humor disadvantage, the character
  may make jokes (often lame ones), and enjoy slapstick and writ-
  ten humor, but he doesn’t normally “get” verbal humor, espe-
  cially if he is the target (IQ-4 roll to realize he’s the butt of the
  joke). This disadvantage differs from Gullibility in that the char-
  acter is normally aware that someone is trying to take advantage
  of him, except in social situations. The PC is no more suscepti-
  ble to Fast-Talk than normal, unless someone is trying to con-
  vince him that an attractive character of the appropriate gender
  is interested in him.
  Clueless people also have many minor habits that annoy
  others, like leaving the turn signals on while driving from
  Chicago to Albuquerque.
  EEvviill TTwwiinn
  --1100//--1155//--2200 ppooiinnttss
  An Evil Twin is someone who looks like you, sounds like
  you and occasionally uses a name similar to yours – but who acts
  completely opposite; this may or may not be “evil,” depending on
  the PC. Characters rarely meet their Evil Twins, but they will hear
  about them, usually when they’re taking the blame for something
  they didn’t do (for a change). Evil Twins are often mistaken for
  Split Personalities, with the same reaction modifier (-3).
  Evil Twins have exactly the same skills and abilities as the
  character, including the Evil Twin disadvantage (from the Twin’s
  point of view, the character is the one who’s ruining his reputa-
  tion), but other disadvantages will be opposite or skewed. For -15
  points, the Evil Twin will have higher skill levels than the charac-
  ter, or abilities the character does not have; for -20, both skill lev-
  els and abilities are improved. In this case, the GM should decide
  what the differences are and create a separate character sheet. The
  character’s player should not know what the differences are!
  The base value of an Evil Twin is modified by frequency of
  appearance – i.e., how often the character is likely to have to
  explain that he didn’t do something, or produce an alibi. That is,
  if he really wants to admit he was busy sneaking Tantric Magic
  and You out of the Library when someone was putting nitrous
  oxide into the Team’s dorm-rooms . . .
  At the beginning of each adventure, or each session of a
  continuing adventure, the GM rolls 3 dice to see if the Evil
  Twin’s actions will impinge on the character’s existence.
  If the Evil Twin “appears” almost all the time (15 or less):
  triple the listed value.
  If the Evil Twin comes into play quite often (12 or less):
  double the listed value.
  If the Evil Twin comes into play fairly often (9 or less): use
  the listed value.
  If the Evil Twin rarely makes its presence known (6 or
  less): halve the listed value (round up).
  On a roll of 3, the character will actually catch a glimpse of
  his Twin leaving the area before he gets caught and accused of
  whatever the Evil Twin just did.
  Characters with Evil Twins will often find anonymous
  notes from their Twins stuck under their doors, in the campus
  The first level (usually called “The Treatment”) includes the
  ability to turn momentarily insubstantial (per the Insubstantiality
  power in GURPS Supers, p. SU42), giving complete protection
  from most physical assaults, explosions, etc. This ability is com-
  pletely involuntary, and activates automatically (i. e., when the
  GM determines the character is in danger of physical harm) on a
  roll of 12 or less on three dice. On a failed roll, the character
  takes damage normally. Only the character’s body is protected –
  clothes and carried items will take damage even on a successful
  roll, though they won’t usually be destroyed (nor will they leave
  the character’s body while he is insubstantial).
  This level also gives a +4 to HT on rolls to resist poisons
  and diseases, and +2 to resist psi, magic or super powers. Senior
  professors, chairthings of minor departments and mid-level
  administrators usually have this level of The Treatment.
  The second level (“The Treatment II” or “The Treatment
  Strikes Back”) works like the first level, but the roll to avoid
  physical damage is 15 or less on three dice, and the character
  gets the Immunity to Disease, Immunity to Poisons and Fast
  Regeneration (regain 1 HT every minute, see p. SU44) advan-
  tages. The recipient also gets a +5 bonus to resist psi, magic and
  superpowers. This is usually the level of The Treatment given to
  major department chairthings and high-level administrators.
  The third level (“The Treatment III” or “The Return of The
  Treatment”) works like the second level, but the roll to avoid
  physical trauma is 17 or less on three dice, and the character
  gets Instant Regeneration (regains 1 HT per second, see p.
  SU44). The bonus to resistance for psi, magic and superpowers
  increases to +10. This level of The Treatment is normally only
  granted to deans and very senior administrators. (For some rea-
  son, it is also known as “the ArchDean’s Revenge.”)
  Oddly, no one who has taken The Treatment will discuss it
  with those who haven’t. GMs should imply that the process is
  horrific and potentially fatal, and may cause mental aberrations.
  Players shouldn’t want to know about it! The Treatment should
  be mysterious, and the process may well vary from individual to
  individual, much like resurrection procedures, as the University
  tries out newer – and cheaper – versions.
  21
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  NEW DISADVANTAGES
  
  mail or in computer messages, especially when the characters
  have done something egregiously spectacular or incredibly stu-
  pid, and the Evil Twins are taking fallout from it. Characters
  with Evil Twins should also not leave their laundry unattended
  – Evil Twins hate doing laundry, and are likely to borrow the
  character’s (after it’s clean, of course), which is the main reason
  they get called “evil.”
  Note that it is possible to have more than one Evil Twin!
  Either this counts as a frequency modifier, or else it is possible
  that the Evil Triplets will act differently from each other, as well
  as from the character. 
  Also note that, very rarely, it can be an advantage to have
  an Evil Twin to take the blame for something you did. (A GM
  call, but a roll of 18 at the beginning of a session would be a
  good indicator.)
  KKlluuttzz
  --55//--1155 ppooiinnttss
  This disadvantage has two levels. A regular Klutz (-5
  points) must make a DX roll to get through the day without
  doing a pratfall, dropping books or knocking over shelves filled
  with fragile items. Regular klutziness is rarely life-threatening,
  but is very inconvenient, and often expensive. The GM should
  be creative in inventing minor torments. Klutzes should espe-
  cially avoid lab courses involving large amounts of glassware
  and hazardous chemicals.
  At the -15 point level, the character is a Total Klutz.
  Besides the daily DX roll to avoid minor hazards, a failure on
  any DX or DX-based skill roll is automatically a critical failure.
  Total Klutzes usually have very high auto insurance rates . . .
  A character with either level of this disadvantage may not
  have a DX above 13.
  LLiivveess oonn CCaammppuuss
  --55 ppooiinnttss
  The character lives on campus in one of the dorms, and has
  an obligation to eat at least one meal a day in a dining hall.
  While this may not seem so bad – after all, the dorms are rela-
  tively close to classes, you don’t need a car (or a parking per-
  mit!) and you get three guaranteed meals a day – there is a dis-
  tinct down-side.
  Dorms are subject to the whims of various faculty and
  administrators, who can always reprogram the fire-alarms to go
  off every 45 minutes if they are irked by a student; meals in the
  dining halls are often a contest to see whether the student eats
  the food, or the food eats the student; and there can be problems
  if your roommate is incompatible with you – it’s such a nui-
  sance to walk in and find that he’s set the air conditioning to
  “chlorine atmosphere” or “sulfur and brimstone.” Furthermore,
  the shuttle bus to dorms is frequently late, missing or unrecog-
  nizable – would you believe an intelligent cybertank is your
  bus? – which means students usually have to hoof it anyway. 
  Since conditions in the dorms are so erratic, anyone known
  to live on campus will get a -1 reaction from snobs and fraterni-
  ty brothers who have better living accommodations and no sym-
  pathy. Living on campus does give a +1 reaction from similarly-
  afflicted students, but it is no help whatsoever in explaining that
  your roommate ate your final paper. The GM should inflict a
  steady series of minor miseries on dorm dwellers: lack of sleep
  because your neighbors were up all night with their stereos set
  on “Richter 9,” or because your roommate locked you out (-1 to
  IQ and IQ-based skills all the next day), exotic food (treat as a
  poison or 24-hour disease, see pp. B132-133) or enormous food
  and phone bills generated by your roommate (consider taking
  your roommate as an Enemy).
  MMuunnddaannee BBaacckkggrroouunndd
  --1100 ppooiinnttss
  This disadvantage reflects a total lack of experience with
  the occult, the weird and the alien. The character probably grew
  up in the middle of an Iowa cornfield, was not visited by aliens
  during his teen years, believes magic is something done by
  David Copperfield and thinks late-model Fords epitomize cut-
  ting-edge technology.
  This disadvantage is similar to the Mundanity advantage
  (and is included in it), but unlike the advantage, Mundane
  Background confers no special ability to warp reality. (Just to
  confuse matters, characters with Mundane Background are also
  called “mundanes,” with a lower-case “m.”)
  Naturally, PCs with this disadvantage cannot start the game
  with anything other than normal, mundane, TL7 skills or equip-
  ment. Even the Occultism skill is forbidden – the character might
  read the astrology column in the newspaper, but that’s about it.
  The character can have advantages like Magical Aptitude, psi
  powers or even super abilities, but cannot use them, as he lacks
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  22
  
  the skills. He has no idea that he possesses
  talents beyond the norm, except maybe for
  the odd dream now and then.
  This disadvantage must be bought
  off if the character wishes to learn skills
  related to magic, psi, superpowers or
  higher Tech Levels than his own. It is
  common to buy off this disadvantage as
  the character reaches his second year at
  IOU – it’s very difficult for a mundane
  world-view to survive extended contact
  with this environment.
  Roleplaying note: your character will
  tend to stop and gawk at many of the
  more unusual things on campus (including
  some of the other students). Other stu-
  dents and faculty react to people with
  Mundane Background at -2 – standing
  around campus with your jaw hanging
  open is so gauche . . .
  NNeerrdd
  SSeeee SSoocciiaall SSttiiggmmaa,, pp.. 1177
  NNoo IInnssuurraannccee
  --110000 ppooiinnttss
  Characters with this disadvantage are
  not official members of the University
  (students, faculty, staff or Ilumni), and
  thus have no access to the techniques that
  IOU uses to cure death. In other words, if
  you’re dead, you’re dead, Jim.
  This disadvantage can be bought off, if the character enrolls
  as a full-time student or takes a position on the faculty, staff or
  administration. Coverage by the University life insurance plan
  can also be granted to characters by the ArchDean, but only in
  exceptional circumstances, usually associated with extraordinary
  services to IOU (including huge donations of cash).
  Due to the high value of this disadvantage, the GM may
  allow a character later acquiring life insurance to buy it off
  slowly – say, 20 points per death.
  If the campaign is started such that all PCs have the No
  Insurance disadvantage, but are all expected to gain insurance
  during early play (e.g., starting as potential students or aspiring
  staff), the GM should not permit characters to take points for this
  disadvantage. Only characters who will lack insurance during a
  major part of the campaign should get points for No Insurance.
  SSeeccrreett DDiissaaddvvaannttaaggee
  VVaarriiaabbllee
  The character has a disadvantage that neither the character
  nor the player is aware of. The secret disadvantage is deter-
  mined by the GM, from a point value picked by the player. The
  actual disadvantage should be worth 5 points less than the value
  of the Secret Disadvantage. (E.g., Berserk, normally -15 points,
  is worth -20 points as a Secret Disadvantage.)
  The GM must pick the disadvantage carefully – it should be
  something that the character would not have known about. If the
  disadvantage is a mental one, the conditions that trigger it
  should never have happened to the character.
  Most physical disadvantages are too obvious, though some-
  thing like Hemophilia might have gone unnoticed. Secret
  Enemies are quite reasonable, as are various mental disadvan-
  tages like Berserk, Bloodlust, Combat Paralysis, some of the
  less-common Phobias, the -15 point version of Split Personality
  and Unluckiness. Evil Twins make excellent Secret
  Disadvantages. Secret Dependents might be amusing, though
  implausible . . .
  A “Schrödinger’s Disadvantage” can be used to complicate
  the lives of the PCs when they’re getting a little too lucky, and
  the GM wants to deprive them of boredom. 
  When the disadvantage is fully exposed, as determined by
  the GM, the extra -5 points for the secret must be bought off as
  soon as possible. To encourage characters to take Secret
  Disadvantages, the GM may allow an extra -5 points of disad-
  vantages when the character is created with this disadvantage.
  This extra -5 points is more of a loan than a permanent part of
  the character design – the “exposed” character will have only
  the usual number of disadvantage points.
  23
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  NEW SKILLS
  Note that there is no Blackmail skill – blackmail requires a
  combination of other skills, including Intimidation, Psychology
  and Merchant, and usually involves reaction rolls. It depends
  greatly on the circumstances and character of the individual
  being blackmailed. The GM should have players roleplay all
  blackmail attempts.
  SScciieennccee!! ((MM//VVHH))
  NNoo ddeeffaauulltt
  PPrreerreeqquuiissiitteess:: sseeee bbeellooww
  Science! is a cinematic skill, and is inappropriate for use in
  realistic campaigns. It is useful for the scientist who wants to
  know a little – or a lot! – about everything.
  
  You have a general acquaintance with the fundamental
  techniques and theories of virtually every branch of laboratory
  and theoretical science. You’re equally at home monitoring a
  chemistry experiment, excavating an archaeological dig or
  expounding on a sociological theory.
  Science! skill will not allow you to create a new theory,
  invention or experiment, but on a successful roll you will know
  about any theory, invention or experiment that anyone else has
  published, in any branch of science, and be able to reconstruct it
  with the proper equipment. The GM can allow this to become as
  much or as little of a deus ex machina as he wishes.
  In order to take Science! skill, you must first purchase the
  Research skill at 13 or higher. Then you must invest at least 2
  points in each of two skills from the list given. Agronomy,
  Alchemy, Anthropology, Archaeology, Astrogation (if applica-
  ble), Astronomy, Biochemistry, Botany, Chemistry, Computer
  Programming, Diagnosis, Ecology, Economics, Electronics,
  Engineer, Forensics, Genetics, Geology, Linguistics,
  Mathematics, Metallurgy, Physiology, Psychology, Surgery,
  Veterinary, Weird Science, Zoology, or any other M/H or
  M/VH skill drawn from the “hard” or “soft” sciences (but not
  from the liberal arts). Your skill in Science! can never be greater
  than your lowest prerequisite skill-2. For example, if your pre-
  requisite skills are Biochemistry 16 and Botany 14, you cannot
  take Science! at more than 12.
  Any character with a Science! skill of 13 or more is entitled
  to use the title “Professor,” regardless of whether or not he’s
  affiliated with any institution of higher learning – though being
  too insistent on it could be a bad idea when a real professor at
  IOU is glaring at the character.
  Examples of characters from fiction with the Science! skill
  include Prof. Challenger, Dr. Van Helsing, the Professor from
  Gilligan’s Island, and Dr. Quest from the cartoon Johnny Quest.
  For the corresponding magical skill, see Thaumatology,
  p. G7.
  WWeeiirrdd SScciieennccee ((MM//VVHH))
  NNoo ddeeffaauulltt
  This skill allows the character to create astonishing new
  crackpot scientific theories that are far ahead of their time. A
  successful Weird Science roll will give a +5 bonus in an attempt
  to invent something using the invention rules on p. B186. A suc-
  cessful roll also adds a +1 to Gadgeteering attempts (see p. 111),
  and +2 to any roll on a Scientific skill to deal with something
  out of the ordinary. Critical failures of Weird Science skill are
  always spectacular, though not necessarily fatal, or even danger-
  ous. A critical success on a Weird Science roll gives the charac-
  ter some incredible insight into a totally different problem, as
  well as helping solve the current one. (This is the well-known
  Law of Serendipity in action.)
  Weird Science skill may also be used to analyze alien arti-
  facts and other incomprehensible tech beyond the ken of ordi-
  nary mortals. Thus, a successful Weird Science skill roll will
  permit the character a default Piloting skill roll on a TL14
  starsled, or enable him to program the average TL7 VCR.
  Unfortunately, many people with Weird Science skill are so
  fond of complicated theories that they have difficulty working
  the kitchen faucet.
  WWeeiirrdd MMaaggiicc ((MM//VVHH))
  NNoo ddeeffaauulltt
  Weird Magic is the arcane equivalent of the Weird Science
  skill. It may be used to gain partial understanding of otherwise
  unfathomable magic, such as strange magical artifacts left by
  lost races. A successful Weird Magic roll will give a +2 bonus
  to rolls to cast a spell with Improvisational magic (see p. M76),
  or aid in creating a new spell by research (see p. M16).
  BBUUIILLDDIINNGG CCHHAARRAACCTTEERR((SS))
  24
  
  25
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  T
  he ArchDean leaned back in her chair and put her feet on
  the desk. “So, who’s got the Department of Redundancy
  Department this week, computer?”
  A bland voice spoke out of – apparently – nowhere. “I
  BELIEVE THAT ALL THE SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES HAVE DECIDED TO
  CREATE THEIR OWN.”
  “Figures.” She rolled her eyes. “What’re the scores in the
  latest faculty bloodfeuds, and other casualties? Just the
  overviews, please, by college.”
  “WUSE HAS LOST FIVE PROFESSORS, TWO ACCIDENTALLY, WHILE
  COUP CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY FOR A THIRD. COUP HAS LOST THREE
  PROFESSORS AND A TEACHER’S ASSISTANT, AND TWELVE STUDENTS WILL
  BE GRADUATING. C.T.H.U.L.H.U. GAINED EIGHTEEN PROFESSORS, BUT
  IS EXPECTED TO LOSE OVER HALF OF THEM IN THE NEXT SEMESTER WHEN
  THE TEMPORAL ANOMALY IS FIXED. THE COLLEGE OF ZEN SURREALISM
  WOULD LIKE PISTACHIO COOKIES FOR THEIR VENDING MACHINES.”
  
  “Odds are running five to two against on the College of Metaphysics, for
  keeping their Computer Theology department, right? Put me down for twenty,
  that they’ll hang on to it. Oh, and drop a memo to the Dean of WUSE that he
  owes me on that bet – I told him Doctor Ruberg Golden would tick off the Unseen
  Dean with those silly elaborate deathtraps.”
  The colleges and departments listed below shouldn’t be taken as gospel –
  they are merely an incomplete sample from a single point in time. With all the
  political realignments, takeovers and department splits (see Reorganizations side-
  bar), the only way to get a complete list is to ask THE computer. And by the time
  the list is finished, it will probably be out of date . . .
  All this confusion can make it hard to choose – or keep – a major. Some of
  the wealthiest students at IOU still haven’t graduated, due to changing depart-
  ments and degree requirements. One might almost suspect a conspiracy on the
  part of the administration.
  Many courses are cross-listed in two or more departments or schools, at least
  if they aren’t actively feuding with each other. Cross-listed courses are not listed
  here for space reasons, but the GM can easily find opportunities. For example,
  most courses concerned with legal or quasi-legal businesses are cross-listed as
  SCA offerings.
  It is just a student rumor that some departments were formed solely for the
  spiffy acronyms.
  SCHOOL OF WEIRD AND
  UNNATURAL SCIENCES AND
  ENGINEERING (WUSE)
  “Only a WUSE major would think to attack Cthulhu with laughing gas . . .”
  Due to its fondness for high-tech and high-entropy phenomena, the School of
  Weird and Unnatural Sciences and Engineering is one of the larger colleges at
  IOU, consisting of many departments that span a wide range of subjects. (When
  University
  Organization 
  Like most universities, IOU consists of
  three major types of structural units. First
  is what most people think of when they
  think of a university – the part that is pri-
  marily concerned with educating students.
  Each subject area forms a department, and
  departments are grouped into larger, semi-
  autonomous units called “schools” or
  “colleges.” Each school typically has its
  own budget, and largely governs itself in
  matters such as curriculum design, student
  admissions, faculty selection and promo-
  tion and fund-raising.
  The second major component in the
  University is the administration (see p.
  47). Besides setting overall budgets and
  general education requirements, the
  administration operates all the infrastruc-
  ture of the university: buildings, grounds,
  student housing, food services, the library,
  Ilumni services, central accounting, etc.
  The final component to the University
  is a collection of semi-independent organi-
  zations that are owned by it, but are neither
  concerned with teaching, nor support ser-
  vices. Most of these are research labs con-
  nected with WUSE, but the University
  may also own hospitals, shopping centers
  and even businesses which somehow relate
  to the University’s operations. None of
  these “peripheral” organizations is
  described here – the GM will have to
  decide what his version of IOU owns.
  Naturally, the University may form or
  acquire such elements over time. More
  rarely, it may “spin off” an organization,
  usually one that is a viable commercial
  business (in which case the University will
  probably remain a major stockholder).
  Reorganizations 
  An almost daily occurrence at IOU is
  the dreaded “reorganization.” Causes are
  many, ranging from poor financial perfor-
  mance in the department, to faculty ambi-
  tions, to turf wars among colleges, to
  administrative whim. On very rare occa-
  sions, a change in department structure is
  driven by academic concerns. But most
  IOU reorganizations make less sense than
  governmental policies.
  In fact, most changes are caused by
  faculty and college deans forcibly creat-
  ing, destroying or hijacking departments
  for purely political reasons. (GMs wanti-
  ng to explain departmental politics to
  players might find the Illuminati: New
  World Order trading-card game a good
  demonstration.)
  Continued on next page . . .
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  26
  
  explosive dispersal is factored in, WUSE sometimes spans an even wider area
  . . .) Because of this broad approach to “turf,” it is often squabbling with other
  schools for some of its departments. The College of Temporal Happenstance,
  Ultimate Lies and Historical Undertakings, for example, tries to reserve all
  aspects of time travel for itself, when it is clear that “Time Machines, Building
  Of” falls under the aegis of Temporal Engineering. The College of Obscure and
  Unhealthy Professions often has its own ideas about who should be teaching
  weapons manufacture, and the School of Social Anti-Sciences has some opinions
  about where this “Culinary Studies” stuff belongs.
  However, WUSE (rhymes with “booze,” despite Team members’ tendency to
  pronounce it “wuss” or “wussie” just before becoming test subjects for final pro-
  jects) has certain advantages. Foremost among these is THE computer, the super-
  computer that runs the entire campus. Only WUSE administrators seem to be
  able to maintain THE computer effectively, and they have thoughtfully instructed
  THE computer to adjust their salaries correspondingly.
  WUSE majors usually have exceptional IQs, below average physical attribut-
  es and minimal abnormal abilities (though the College does welcome electroki-
  netic psis). Instead, they invent gadgets which – when they work as advertised –
  rival or surpass “natural” advantages. Despite their uncanny knack for creating
  mushroom clouds, WUSE majors are often pacifists and prefer to think of clever
  and elaborate plans to achieve their goals with minimal loss of life. Some even
  try to reduce property damage, but that’s an extremist viewpoint.
  Professors are similar to students, though often much balder. (All that radia-
  tion . . .) Teaching in WUSE is more profitable than in most other colleges –
  many professors have businesses on the side, and government grants for hyper-
  expensive equipment offer considerable opportunity for “overhead charges.” On
  the other hand, the inevitable departmental budget overruns and costs of replac-
  ing major chunks of campus draw the ArchDean’s attention to WUSE faculty
  more often than to those teaching lower-entropy curricula.
  Buildings devoted to the College of Weird and Unnatural Sciences and
  Engineering come in three flavors: high-tech, computerized labs; incredibly sturdy
  and nigh-indestructable bomb-bunkers; and cheap, disposable, pre-fab cracker-
  boxes.
  Reorganizations
  (continued)
  Most of the fallout from “re-orgs” falls
  on the undergraduate students, of course.
  A student may come to class one morning
  and find that:
  – his major no longer exists.
  – his major department now belongs to
  a different school, and he needs to transfer
  (with all the paperwork that implies).
  – the requirements for his major have
  totally changed, and he suddenly has 130
  additional credits of required courses.
  – the department faculty have mysteri-
  ously disappeared, but classes simply pick
  up where they left off yesterday, with new
  teachers.
  Sometimes entire buildings disappear
  overnight, and once in a while, a college
  suddenly appears or vanishes. (Puff of
  smoke optional.)
  Other WUSE
  Departments
  A sampling of additional departments
  in WUSE, for GM elaboration:
  Department of Deforestry: strip-min-
  ing for fun and profit.
  Department of Computer Mythology:
  the study of computer legends.
  Department of Earth Sciences: exploit-
  ing the planet for fun and profit.
  Department of Martian Sciences: don’t
  ask – no one knows anyway.
  Department of Recreational Biochem-
  istry: designer drugs.
  Department of Rude Engineering:
  building highly obnoxious artificial
  humanoids.
  Department of Synthetic Nutrition:
  hazardous materials handling.
  Department of Ultramarine Science:
  (a.k.a. Marine Ultrasciences) scientific
  wet work.
  Department of Zoology: classifying,
  capturing and assigning blame for the cre-
  ations of other WUSE or Metaphysics
  departments.
  School of Anti-Social Sciences (SASS):
  an alias for WUSE, attracts the mad scien-
  tists better, and confuses SSAS students.
  WUSE: Department of Botany 
  Known on campus mostly for the
  unusual architecture of the building – a
  giant tree-house, complete with dryads –
  the botany department is considered fairly
  innocuous, as WUSE goes. Though
  strange vines hanging down have been
  known to attack unwary students . . .
  The primary requirement for students
  and faculty in this department is that they
  be strict carnivores – vegetarians get a -4
  reaction from most of the more aggressive
  plants! 
  Continued on next page . . .
  27
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF CCHHEEMMIISSTTRRYY
  With most of the really fun stuff usurped by the Johnny-come-lately
  Recreational Biochemistry department, the chemistry department consoles itself
  by inventing newer and better anti-social materials, like tear gas, hyperexplosives
  and asbestos ceiling tile. The department also does a brisk side business in can-
  cer-causing chemicals and catalysts to deplete the ozone layer. One of the bigger
  recent successes is the first wholly-inorganic, zero-calorie breakfast cereal,
  “Macho Rockies – The World’s Crunchiest Cereal.”
  Faculty and students usually have fairly high IQs, Danger Sense (useful
  when something is about to blow up) and Deafness (from failing the Danger
  Sense rolls once too often). The primary skill taught is Chemistry, though
  Demolitions can be acquired through lab experience.
  Most graduates go on to work for multinational chemical conglomerates, or
  move to New Jersey (since they’ve become dependent on a polluted environment).
  A few find employment in toxic waste manufacture, or working for fast-food
  chains.
  Typical courses: Chem112 – Basic Pollutants, Chem267 – Theory and
  Practice of Explosives, Chem445 – Covert Toxic Waste Disposal, Chem633 –
  Universal Solvents, Chem755 – Designing Carcinogens, Chem756 – Mutagens
  for the Common Man.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF GGEENNEETTIICC EENNGGIINNEEEERRIINNGG
  Known around campus as the “Frankies,” the faculty and students in this
  department specialize in making friends – by building them. They also tinker with
  lower animals, and are the primary suspects for the origin of meeps. Unfortunately,
  the gengineers aren’t always careful to keep their toys in the lab, or maybe they just
  like to field test their creations around campus. Whatever the reason, a lot of the
  more . . . entertaining . . . campus flora and fauna seem to have come from here.
  Students and faculty are primarily selected for high IQ, and lack of Common
  Sense. Skills taught in the department include Genetic Engineering, Biochemistry
  and Gunner (Tank Cannon) – for dealing with the big ones that get away.
  Other WUSE
  Departments
  (continued)
  Graduates find careers with the U.S.
  Forest Service, large agribusinesses and
  the more unusual florist shops.
  Typical courses: Bot114 – Talking to
  Plants, Bot115 – Listening to Plants,
  Bot464 – Hybridizing Carnivorous
  Species, Bot788 – Growing Your Own
  Army.
  WUSE: Department of Temporal
  Engineering
  Unlike its rival D.O.C.T.O.R. (in
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U.), WUSE’s time-travel
  department is interested in “nuts and bolts.”
  Though forbidden to test their devices,
  except under C.T.H.U.L.H.U. supervision,
  many grad students from this department
  seem to turn up in the strangest times –
  usually in a great deal of trouble . . .
  The Gadgeteer advantage is common
  among the Temporal Engineering students
  and faculty, as are various of the special-
  ized temporal advantages described in
  GURPS Time Travel. Courses in the
  department teach skills in Temporal
  Engineering, Temporal Operation and
  Temporal Physics.
  Since the existence of time travel is
  not officially known outside the
  University, there is a limited job market
  for graduates, though there are rumors of
  some T.E. majors getting job offers from
  various world governments. Most gradu-
  ates either remain as researchers and
  teachers at IOU, or become self-
  employed temporal “entrepreneurs.”
  Typical Courses: TE115 – Applied
  Paradoxes I: Grandfather Clauses, TE374
  – Rewriting History, TE375 – Re-engi-
  neering History, TE448 – Timestream
  Hydraulics, TE617 – Sacking the Future,
  TE752 – Out-Teching the Time Patrol.
  WUSE: Department of Weird Science and
  Culinary Studies
  This is the department that asks the
  burning question, “Can we eat it, or will it
  eat us?” Considered a bit odd, even by the
  standards of WUSE, the Weird Science
  faculty indulges in far-out (one might
  even say, “over the rainbow”) scientific
  theories. Or pseudo-scientific theories. Or
  lunch . . . whatever comes first. The only
  commonality between the various projects
  being researched here is the apparent need
  for fresh produce as part of the experiment
  – usually rutabagas. (The College of
  Metaphysics worries that the Weird
  Science department is really trying to do
  some sort of odd alchemy, but so far
  hasn’t found any proof. Some of the spies
  even come back unchanged.)
  Continued  on next page . . . 
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  28
  
  Graduates either become typical hermit mad scientists, megalomaniac
  would-be world emperors (with armies of sentient wombats) or proprietors of pet
  stores featuring really exotic animals.
  Typical courses: GE100 – Bringing Good Things to Life, GE222 – The
  Making of a Politician, GE344 – 101 Uses for Lightning Rods, GE577 – Making
  Friends: Do-It-Yourself Sentients.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF CCOOMMPPUUTTEERR WWIIZZAARRDDRRYY
  As might be expected from the title, this department is contested with the
  College of Metaphysics. This recently-formed department is concerned with the
  interaction of magic and computers. Among other things, it teaches Tech College
  spells (from GURPS Grimoire), but due to inexperience with magic, the results
  are somewhat erratic. It also tries to build computer-assisted spellcasting gadgets
  and microprocessor-controlled magic items, and of course, it works at designing
  new and ever more arcane operating systems. (UNIX was an early triumph.)
  Some research in the department is attempting to create AIs with Magery, but so
  far such attempts have failed. (THE computer is keenly interested in this
  research, of course.)
  The department recruits faculty and students with interests in the occult, as
  well as high levels of Computer Programming skill. Magery is a plus (though the
  College of Metaphysics tries to recruit mages first). Skills taught here include
  Astrology, Computer Programming, Occultism, Electronics (Computers) and
  Electronics (Magical), as well as all the spells in the Tech College.
  Students majoring in Computer Wizardry go on to successful careers design-
  ing new vaporware operating systems for major software producers, VCR remote
  controls or video games. Some branch out and start computer graphics compa-
  nies to support Hollywood special-effects blockbusters.
  Typical courses: CW133 – Computerized Horoscope Generation, CW364 –
  Semiconductor Metaphysics, CW431 – Operating System Upgrades for Profit,
  CW678 – Computer Graphics for Movies, CW742 – Operating System Daemon
  Summoning.
  Other WUSE
  Departments
  (continued)
  Students and faculty in this department
  often have the Gadgeteer advantage, and
  not a few of them also have Cast Iron
  Stomach (their coffee is even worse than
  the average WUSE department’s). To no
  one’s surprise, the primary skill taught
  here is Weird Science, though Cooking
  comes a close second.
  For the few graduates of this depart-
  ment, there are limited job opportunities,
  other than as self-employed mad scien-
  tists, substitute high school science teach-
  ers or science fiction authors. On the other
  hand, Weird Science graduates are among
  the few people who are equally comfort-
  able inventing fire for prehistoric man
  (can’t make coffee without it), or playing
  “designated pilot” when the visiting alien
  gets too drunk at a faculty party. Drop a
  Weird Science grad on a desert island, and
  when you come back in five years, he’ll
  not only have a busy technological civi-
  lization based on sentient coconuts – he’ll
  be a few months from putting a coconut
  on Mars. Or maybe there’ll just be a
  glassy crater full of mutant radioactive
  cockroaches.
  Typical courses: there aren’t any –
  WSCS courses are generally never taught
  twice. Often on direct orders from the
  ArchDean . . .
  WUSE: Department of Political Science
  One of the major problems facing mod-
  ern scientists is funding – university
  administrations tend to be reluctant to fund
  billion-dollar projects whose purpose is
  searching for the elusive tau fuon, the parti-
  cle that will settle once and for all whether
  the Big Bang was left- or right-handed.
  Thus was born political science: the art of
  convincing Congress that a billion-dollar
  science research project will generate four
  billion dollars worth of pork-barrel jobs in
  every Congressthing’s home district. Many
  of the techniques are related to those long
  used by defense contractors, and with the
  decline in popularity of billion-dollar mili-
  tary boondoggles, lobbyists have recycled
  new life into old scams by moving to the
  scientific community. As might be expect-
  ed, some courses in the political science
  curriculum are contested with departments
  in COUP (“Advanced Political Bribery
  512” and “Blackmailing Your Congress-
  thing 212”) and the School of Conservative
  Arts (“Manipulating Congress for Profit
  671”), as well as the Department of
  Government Studies in the College of
  Communications.
  Continued on next page . . . 
  29
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF MMIILLIITTAARRYY BBIIOOLLOOGGYY
  A recent spin-off from the Department of Military Science and Cost
  Overruns, the Military Biology department teaches courses in Marine biology,
  Army biology, Navy biology and Air Force biology (bringing it into conflict
  with interests of the School of Performing and Creative Arts). It also does
  research into biological and chemical materials of critical military importance,
  like harsh soaps, nerve gas, caffeine, tobacco and Spam.
  A high HT is of critical importance to students and professors, and the
  Immunity to Disease, Immunity to Poisons and Rapid Healing advantages are
  also useful. Skills taught in the department include First Aid, Chemistry,
  Biochemistry, Physiology and Sex Appeal.
  After graduating, department majors often go into the military as medical
  assistants, become international arms dealers specializing in biological and
  chemical weapons, or start businesses in toxic waste disposal. Some also find
  careers with tobacco companies or with giant food conglomerates.
  Typical courses: MB105 – Hygiene is Your Friend, MB269 – Military
  Applications of Sex, MB390 – Combat Uses for Toxic Wastes, MB576 –
  Radioactive Toxins: Double Jeopardy, MB783 – 101 Uses for Neurotoxins.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF MMIILLIITTAARRYY SSCCIIEENNCCEE AANNDD CCOOSSTT OOVVEERRRRUUNNSS
  This department is coveted by COUP, which wants it mostly for the profit-
  skimming potential. WUSE justifies its jurisdiction by pointing to the word
  “Science” in the department title. Since there’s a natural symbiosis between the
  military outlook and the high-energy, high-cost WUSE approach to R&D, the
  department sticks with the creators of its high-tech toys – at least until COUP
  makes it an offer it can’t refuse . . .
  MSCO is a perfect home for the non-pacifist, pro-explosion WUSE major,
  especially one with high ST – to tote around tripod-mounted weapons. Department
  majors are an exception to the rule that WUSE students have high IQs. High ST,
  HT and Toughness are commonly found in MSCO students. DX isn’t as important,
  since the department favors excessive overkill in weapons, to eliminate the need for
  accuracy. “Close” counts in horseshoes and strategic thermonuclear hand grenades.
  Graduates have sure careers as administrative officers in military service, lead-
  ing eventually to lucrative jobs as vice-presidents of defense contractors. Some
  graduates eschew the military to start their own businesses instead, usually in the
  pest-control industry.
  Other WUSE
  Departments
  (continued)
  Students and faculty in the Political
  Science department specialize in commu-
  nication abilities: the Voice and Charisma
  advantages are common, as is the psi
  Telepathy power; skills taught include
  Accounting, Merchant, Performance,
  Bard, 
  Writing, 
  Fast-Talk, 
  Law,
  Intimidation and Forgery. (This depart-
  ment is WUSE’s attempt to keep students
  from taking courses in COUP, CoC and
  SCA, thus keeping all the income for
  itself. DPS classes sometimes turn into
  firefights between COUP infiltrators,
  WUSE loyalists and invading armies of
  briefcase-toting students from CoC.)
  Department graduates often find niches
  in major government science bureaucra-
  cies like NSF, DOE and NASA. Potential
  profits are lower than for other govern-
  ment jobs, but there are great travel oppor-
  tunities, and the exercise of power over
  the scientific community appeals to those
  with tendencies toward megalomania.
  Typical courses: PS115 – Congress-
  ional Influence-Peddling, PS255 –
  Misleading Congressional Committees,
  PS315 – Underestimating Budgets, PS316
  – Underestimating Schedules, PS364 –
  Science in Sound Bites, PS666 – Building
  a Bureaucracy.
  Defunct Departments
  Department of THE difference engine
  Science: pre-electric computing, mutated
  into THE computer Science in 1911.
  Department of Phlogiston Chemistry:
  resulted in the Pyromic Memorial Firestorm
  in 1605, burning on campus to this day . . .
  Government Grants 
  A critical function of WUSE depart-
  ments in particular, and sometimes those in
  other schools, is obtaining research fund-
  ing. Generally, only the government is rich
  enough – and unaccountable enough – to
  pour substantial sums into dubious research
  programs, though corporations and rich
  individuals can sometimes be tapped.
  Besides keeping graduate students
  employed and providing extra income to
  professors, government-funded research
  programs also pay “overhead” to the
  University. This usually amounts to 30-
  50% of the total grant, and covers charges
  for building space, secretarial help, elec-
  tricity, administrative space, office
  copiers, paper, building space, paper clips,
  administrative services, administrative
  space, waste collection, janitorial services,
  building space and so on, ad nauseam –
  whatever the creative accountants turned
  out by SCA can invent, or double-bill.
  And IOU hires the most creative graduates
  from the SCA (which keeps them from
  joining the IRS, among other things).
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  30
  
  Typical courses: MSCO107 – Snatching Victory from Defeat: Public
  Relations for Military Officers, MSCO211 – Counting Megadeaths: Statistics for
  Generals, MCSO304 – Applications of Military Overkill, MSCO622 – “Police
  Actions:” Having a War Without Inviting Congress, MCSO715 – Finding a
  Cushy Job in Industry.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF PPHHYYSSIICCSS
  This department is in an informal competition with the chemistry department
  and Military Science and Cost Overruns for the highest per-capita rate of major
  explosions. (There is also a betting pool among the gradthings about which will
  have the largest explosion of the month.) Physics is the study of how the universe
  is put together . . . or, at IOU, how to take it apart. Most physics research requires
  vast machines of enormous cost, using incredible amounts of electricity. All to
  move a few atoms around very, very fast, and smash them into things. (Physicists
  seem to enjoy this kind of stuff.) With all that energy kicking around, a few
  explosions come with the territory.
  Physics department majors and professors have the typical WUSE high IQ, and
  many also have high HT (to better withstand all that stray radiation). Typical disad-
  vantages include Bad Sight (nearsighted) and Absent-Mindedness (“Didn’t I
  remember to put the control rods back into the reactor? Oops.”). Most also have the
  Odious Personal Habit of “spouts incomprehensible physics gibberish at the drop
  of a hat.”
  Career paths after graduation lead to work in government sponsored nation-
  al labs (usually trying to find better ways to blow up someone else’s country) or
  teaching physics to university students. A few physicists go the lone-wolf mad
  scientist route, and find entertaining new ways to make the Sun go nova.
  Unfortunately, there’s not much profit potential in this, except maybe the film
  rights.
  Typical courses: Phy110 – Radiation is Your Friend, Phy213 – Converting
  Matter into Energy, Phy417 – Big Bangs: Making Your Own Universe, Phy642 –
  The Speed of Light: It May Be the Law, But You Can Always Cheat.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF TTHHEE CCOOMMPPUUTTEERR SSCCIIEENNCCEE
  Due to the existence of THE computer (see p. 62), this department replaces
  what would normally be called Computer Science. As well as teaching the stan-
  dard computer languages like C++, Pascal and Foulbol, THE computer Science
  covers computer specializations of skills normally considered social ones, like
  psychology, diplomacy and intimidation – as applied to THE computer.
  Naturally, the department has been at the forefront of promotion of computers in
  every application – the access to information this has produced has made the
  department one of the most powerful entities in the world. There is little ques-
  tion why the former department head here became the current WUSE dean . . .
  Forming a New
  Department 
  Ambitious senior faculty despairing of
  deposing the chairthing of their current
  department often consider breaking away
  and forming their own new department,
  which they will graciously volunteer to
  chair . . .
  Creating a new department first
  requires a core faculty, so the aspiring pro-
  fessor must first con . . . ah, convince some
  other members of his current department
  to defect, usually by offering them bigger
  salaries, better perks or longer titles.
  Normally the current chairthing will object
  to having valuable faculty stolen, so things
  can get sticky unless handled very quietly.
  Once the basic personnel problems
  have been solved (and George the Janitor
  has mopped up the bloodstains), the
  prospective chairthing faces some addi-
  tional hurdles. First, he needs to sell the
  new department to the dean of his college
  (unless he’s planning to defect to another
  college, which is an easier sale to the
  acquiring school, but tends to provoke
  high-energy objections from the current
  school’s dean). Normal procedure requires
  a hefty bribe, plus a lot of paperwork,
  including 5-year budget projections, esti-
  mated profits and other fantasies usually
  required in business plans. (Make a “mer-
  chant transaction” Reaction roll for the
  dean to the proposed department.) A
  catchy title for the department helps (+1
  on the Reaction roll).
  Once approved by the dean, the whole
  procedure must be repeated with the
  ArchDean, who will usually ask embar-
  rassing questions about the financial pro-
  jections. A truly inspired job of sales-
  thingship may convince the ArchDean to
  create a whole new college for the new
  department, and the ambitious professor
  may be able to become a full dean! (He
  will have to take – and survive – the
  appropriate level of The Treatment, of
  course, which will aid in the inevitable
  bloodfeud with the former college . . .)
  31
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  Majors in this department are actively recruited for high IQ, Mathematical
  Ability and the psi power of Electrokinesis. Compulsive Behavior (Reading
  UseNet News) is very common. Skills taught here include Computer Programming
  and Electronics (Computers), as well as the specialization Psychology (Artificial
  Intelligences). Other specializations of skills include Electronics (Security
  Systems), Merchant (Electronics) and Merchant (Computer Programs), Diplomacy
  (Artificial Intelligences) and Fast-Talk (Artificial Intelligences). Many courses are
  routinely taught at TL8.
  Career paths for graduates lead into lucrative jobs in the computer industry,
  consultants specializing in computerizing (read: infiltrating) computer-poor busi-
  nesses and jobs in government agencies (like the NSA).
  Typical courses: TcS128 – Virtual Breaking and Entering, TcS255 –
  Programming Languages, TcS256 – Deprogramming Languages, TcS511 –
  Designing VCR Programming Controls, TcS512 – Using Flashy Graphical
  Interfaces to Hide Grungy Old Code, TcS768 – Government Database Systems,
  TcS1024 – Designing Artificial Intelligences.
  COLLEGE OF OBSCURE AND
  UNHEALTHY PROFESSIONS
  “When a COUP professor says, ‘My door is always open to students,’ he’s
  probably referring to the trapdoor in front of his desk . . .”
  The College of Obscure and Unhealthy Professions is nearly as large as
  WUSE, and at least as profitable, though what they do is sometimes less obvious
  – especially when they do it right. They don’t often dispute territory with other
  schools, but when they do, they tend to win. Rather than deal with a faculty
  bloodfeud, other colleges prefer to give the department to COUP, and negotiate
  to teach its classes “tag-team” with COUP professors.
  The Dean of COUP is often referred to as “The Unseen Dean,” as he, she
  or it is a shadowy figure second only to the ArchDean in the rankings of
  “Administrators Students Don’t Want to Meet.” There is often some doubt as to
  whether the COUP dean is even alive, which results in the appointment of
  “TempDeans” to do the paperwork while the investigation is going on. A
  TempDean is in a prime position to become dean if the old one is discovered to
  be defunct (whether it happened before or after the TempDean’s appointment),
  so deans who don’t do their paperwork are asking for trouble.
  COUP majors are fond of skulking in shadows, puttering in darkrooms and
  running for office (and running for cover). Agility, intelligence and a winning
  personality can all be useful to these students, depending on the exact fields of
  study. Teachers in the College of Obscure and Unhealthy Professions sit with
  their backs to very solid walls, since they are unable to quash the rumor that if
  your teacher gets sent to the Infirmary for fatal reasons in the middle of a semes-
  ter, you get a passing grade in that class.
  Buildings in COUP often have a Gothic Cathedral look to them, and their
  medical labs are either decorated in Early Mad Scientist, or ominously gleaming,
  sterile high-tech. Some of the classes in techniques of mass destruction are taught
  in WUSE-like pre-fabs.
  SSCCHHOOOOLL OOFF MMEEDDIICCIINNEE
  IOU’s medical “school” is actually a department of COUP – it retains its title
  as a concession to the brilliant dean who recognized the overlap and synergy
  between the School of Medicine, the Law School and the College of Obscure
  Professions. Like any medical school, it is mostly concerned with graduate educa-
  tion – undergrads are “pre-meds” and take science courses in WUSE. The medical
  Other COUP
  Departments
  COUP: Department of Dirty Tricks 
  Eschewing physical force for more psy-
  chological techniques, the Department of
  Dirty Tricks specializes in the fine arts of
  bribery, blackmail and character assassina-
  tion. (The latter sometimes brings it into
  conflict with the Journalism Department in
  the College of Communications.)
  Students and faculty in the department
  have no particular requirements, other
  than the lack of Honesty and Truthfulness
  disadvantages. The primary skills taught
  here are Psychology, Detect Lies,
  Electronics Operation (Communications),
  Photography and Writing.
  Most graduates find jobs as “special
  assistants” in large corporations and the
  government, while others become news-
  paper columnists, radio talk show hosts or
  investigative TV reporters. A few have
  tried to join the IRS, but either changed
  their minds or disappeared.
  Typical courses: DDT187 – Congress-
  ional Bribe Estimation, DDT290 – Tabloid
  Photographic Techniques, DDT291 –
  Bedroom Surveillance for Fun and Profit,
  DDT302 – Techniques for Character
  Assassination and TV Reporting.
  Continued on next page . . .
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  32
  
  school operates Student Health Services and also runs a teaching hospital which ser-
  vices the local community (and makes a nice profit for the University). Most of the
  professors are looking to enlarge their reputations (and egos) by inventing new and
  more profitable operations or drugs, or by finding a new disease and discovering a
  cure.
  Faculty in the medical school generally have Social Status 1+ and are at least
  Wealthy, since they’re practicing doctors as well as teachers. Students need only
  better-than-average IQ, though psi Healing talent or knowledge of magical heal-
  ing is also useful. Some doctors have the -10-point Code of Honor (Hippocratic
  Oath), but this isn’t required. The medical school teaches all the Medical skills,
  naturally, as well as psi Healing skills, with minor ventures into the magical
  Healing college spells and the Alchemy skill.
  Naturally, graduates of the medical school can look forward to long, prof-
  itable careers as overpaid specialists, while the politically-inclined can go into
  government service and peddle regulations as wonder cures for society’s ills.
  Typical courses: Med567 – Uses of Scientific Notation in Hospital Bills,
  Med754 – Inventing Incomprehensible Jargon, Med755 – Explaining Diseases to
  Patients Without Telling Them Anything, Med756 – Selling Unnecessary Surgery.
  SSCCHHOOOOLL OOFF LLAAWW
  Like the medical “school,” this department kept its original title in the merg-
  er that formed COUP – it’s in the contract. This school is also a graduate-only
  one; pre-law undergrads are usually in the College of Communications.
  Professors are mostly practicing lawyers, and proximity to the medical school
  has given them important access to potential clients – both in ambulances to
  chase, and in doctors to defend for malpractice.
  Professors and students need moderate to high IQs, and good Law and
  Research skills. Trial lawyers benefit from the Voice, Charisma and Empathy
  advantages. Skills taught include Law, Research, Diplomacy, Fast-Talk,
  Intimidation, Acting, Bard, Interrogation, Detect Lies, Criminology and
  Psychology.
  Typical courses: Law504 – Basic Ambulance-Chasing, Law599 – Police
  Procedures and How to Avoid Them, Law614 – Padding Bills, Law754 –
  Politics: Writing New Laws for Fun and Profit.
  Other COUP
  Departments
  (continued)
  COUP: Department of Technical
  Difficulties
  If you like breaking things, this is the
  place to learn how. This department trains
  people in the gentle arts of sabotage: mili-
  tary, industrial, terrorist and economic.
  While this does sometime involve explo-
  sions, Technical Difficulties doesn’t com-
  pete with WUSE, preferring more subtle
  versions of the monkey-wrench-in-the-
  works.
  Besides a liking for gumming up the
  system, there are few requirements for
  professors and faculty – even the most
  untalented person can learn to be con-
  structively incompetent. Several depart-
  ment members share the Pyromania disad-
  vantage, while others, aiming for middle-
  management positions, develop the full
  potential of Laziness or Bully. Classes
  here teach a number of skills, including
  Demolitions, Administration, Psychology
  and most technical skills.
  Graduates find jobs in middle manage-
  ment in large corporations, become gov-
  ernment bureaucrats or operate as free-
  lance troublemakers.
  Typical courses: TD201 – Misrouting,
  Misfiling and Losing Paperwork in
  Triplicate, TD202 – Designing Incompre-
  hensible Forms, TD276 – Arson for Fun
  and Profit, TD317 – Writing User Manuals
  TD406 – Demolitions, TD512 – Computer
  Software Enbugging, TD622 – Designing
  Unserviceable Equipment.
  Creating Courses 
  The GM may be called upon to create
  IOU courses from time to time. One good
  source of ideas for topics is to leave the
  whole thing as an exercise for the students
  – let the players invent the courses their
  PCs are taking or teaching.
  Sometimes, though, the GM may need
  a specific course for a plot idea, or simply
  wish to indulge a perverse desire to create
  educational curricula. So a few words
  about course titles and subject matter are
  in order.
  Continued on next page . . .
  33
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  COLLEGE OF TEMPORAL
  HAPPENSTANCE, ULTIMATE LIES
  AND HISTORICAL UNDERTAKINGS
  “The only College where you have to take classes over before you take them
  the first time.”
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. is run by Doctor What7, out of his (their?) TOILET (see p.
  74). Classes span a large time period, but the subjects are narrower. Time travel is
  a staple of this College, and it has an annoying tendency to cheat when it wants a
  department by sending an agent back to acquire it (perhaps by giving a chairthing
  or dean’s parents birth-control devices at a crucial time) before all the hoorah
  even happens.
  Much to C.T.H.U.L.H.U.’s disgust, both WUSE and the College of
  Metaphysics have a tendency to create devices (hi-tech or magical) that will trav-
  el through time. Technically, this is permissible, so long as such creations aren’t
  used. Practically, C.T.H.U.L.H.U. is in the habit of sending seniors and grad stu-
  dents after any “unauthorized” time-jumpers to confiscate the equipment and
  (eventually) bring the miscreants back. Majors in other colleges maintain that
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. is trying to keep all the good looting eras to itself.
  Students at C.T.H.U.L.H.U. are also very good at history in the theoretical
  sense – either they’ve been there (and done that), or they don’t want to be sent there
  and then by an irritated teacher for failing a test. They have also been known to
  pick up souvenirs from previous (or
  future) times. This could be quite detri-
  mental to the campus, not to mention the
  rest of the world, if it were not for IOU’s
  Reality Stabilizers (see p. 83). These
  devices prevent temporal disturbances
  from wiping the University out of histo-
  ry, though they do very little for the rest
  of the universe. Thus, C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  majors are often quite dedicated to their
  Prime Directive: Don’t Do Anything
  Which Would Lower The ArchDean’s
  Stock Values (Or Any Other Dean’s, For
  That Matter).
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. is a viable college
  – despite being outnumbered, out-
  teched and out-magicked – primarily
  because the bigger colleges only want
  to horn in on the time-travel aspects,
  not the history department. Unfor-
  tunately, not knowing the local customs
  can cut short an otherwise promising
  professor’s career. (See the “Other IOU
  Schools” section of the IOU and Time
  Travel sidebar, p. 95, for a little more
  detail about this interaction.)
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. buildings come in a
  wide variety of styles, and it is rumored
  that they are not mere replicas, but actu-
  al buildings salvaged from disasters.
  Creating Courses
  (continued)
  First, your course needs a catchy title –
  boring titles don’t bring in the students,
  and a professor with no students will soon
  have no job, as well. (Exception: see the
  Tenure advantage, p. 20.) Once you’ve
  got a title, you need a course designation
  to use with all the computer scheduling
  forms. The first part of the designation is
  the department identifier, which is nor-
  mally 2-4 letters. This is followed by a 3-
  digit number, the first digit of which indi-
  cates the relative level of the course: 100-
  level courses are introductory, while 500-
  level courses are advanced courses for
  undergraduate majors or low-level grad
  students and 700-level courses are
  advanced graduate-level studies. Except
  on Tuesdays.
  Picking a course number can be a diffi-
  cult decision. An easy-to-remember num-
  ber is good, but a number one higher or
  lower than a popular course can fool stu-
  dents into thinking the course is either a
  pre-requisite or a follow-on for the well-
  filled (and profitable) course.
  Departments may also sometimes use
  the same letter designations. While the
  ArchDean will eventually intervene to fix
  things, students may sign up for the
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. Medieval Studies course
  MS142 – Medieval Entertainment Forms,
  and wind up in the WUSE Martian
  Sciences class MS142 – Yarbling for
  Vulgs.
  When creating a course, thought
  should also be given to prerequisites –
  those courses that are necessary grounding
  for the new course. (Or those that aren’t
  getting enough students on their own, or
  any other political reason the GM can
  think of.) Some courses will have
  “Permission of the instructor” as a prereq-
  uisite – this means the student needs to
  fast-talk, bribe, intimidate or blackmail
  the professor. Sadistic GMs may invent
  circular prerequisites; course A requires
  course B first, which requires course A
  first.
  Detail-conscious GMs may want to
  come up with a one or two-paragraph
  description of the course’s content to be put
  into the semester’s course catalog.
  (Remember that this is marketing hype
  designed to sucker students into taking the
  class!) The GM may also invent required
  textbooks, equipment and course outlines,
  but creating mid-term and final exams is
  carrying verisimilitude a bit far . . .
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  34
  
  Note: for a campaign that focuses heavily on time travel and C.T.H.U.L.H.U., it
  is recommended that the GM have a copy of GURPS Time Travel, for the Temporal
  skills and other time travel-specific material. GURPS Timeline is also useful.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF PPRREEHHIISSTTOORRYY
  On somewhat edgy terms with the department of Archeology, the department
  of Prehistory deals exclusively in matters of the past that were never written
  down (cave paintings don’t count as writing in this case). Many of the faculty
  also have interests similar to WUSE’s departments of Recreational Biochemistry
  and Botany, considering the exotic flora to be found in the Mesozoic Age. It is a
  little-known fact that the great dinosaur “die-off” was encouraged by Prehistory
  majors; it made finding oil so much easier if a bunch of dinosaurs all died in the
  same place . . .
  The main requirement for faculty and students is a reasonably high IQ,
  though Animal Empathy doesn’t hurt when you’re discussing territory with a
  Velociraptor. Skills taught include Archeology, specializing in dinosaurs and
  cavemen, Armory/TL0 and Prospecting. There are also some ancient Botany and
  Zoology classes. The general Tech Level studied is 0.
  Graduates generally go on to similar sorts of work as Archeology majors, as
  well as finding jobs as consultants to big oil firms.
  Typical courses: Preh240 – Dinosaur Identification: Are You Lunch?,
  Preh256 – Advanced Mammoth-Herding, Preh422 – Bring ‘Em Back Dead:
  Trophy Hunting for Museums, Preh617 – Fire-Making Skills for Cro-Magnons.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF AANNCCIIEENNTT HHIISSTTOORRYY
  Where Prehistory leaves off, Ancient History hurries to take over, and
  unearth all those nice bits of jewelry that people carelessly left behind when they
  died. Their sphere of influence starts at approximately 3500 B.C. (around the
  time the Egyptian hieroglyphics were developed), and lasts till about 410 A.D.
  (the end of Roman rule in Britain – Rome being sacked by Visigoths and all that
  – is where the department of Medieval Studies insists on taking over). It also
  includes the real stories behind Atlantis, Stonehenge, Lemuria, ancient astronauts
  (they were just lost) and the Greek gods.
  Language Talent is a plus for Ancient History majors and professors, along
  with Intuition and – for those who enjoy wowing the locals while locating the
  treasury – Danger Sense. Various History, Language and Savoir-Faire skills are
  taught (specializing in a particular culture, like Ancient Roman or Ancient
  Faculty Bloodfeuds 
  “Faculty infighting” between colleges,
  departments, and professors is a common
  hazard – it’s usually sparked by budgeting
  decisions, but personal reasons or compet-
  ing theories can also cause enmity. Since
  IOU has so many extremist professors, it
  seemed only logical to regulate what was
  going to happen anyway: the faculty
  bloodfeud.
  Faculty bloodfeuds must be announced,
  at least to the ArchDean, via the delivery
  of several pounds of paperwork (handwrit-
  ten, in triplicate without carbons) and a
  promise not to trash large portions of the
  campus indiscriminately. (A substantial
  donation will speed processing of the
  paperwork.) Designating a target or goal is
  nice, but not crucial. All this must be
  repeated at the beginning of every semes-
  ter, to renew the bloodfeud permit.
  Assuming the ArchDean doesn’t reject
  the paperwork indefinitely, or otherwise
  call a halt to the procedure (when socialist
  aliens invade, the ArchDean dislikes
  “friendly fire”), the two parties to the
  bloodfeud are allowed to make their
  points. It should be noted that only one
  party has to announce the bloodfeud –
  defending is automatically permitted.
  There are some rules to bloodfeuds –
  most notably the ArchDean’s Rules, a gen-
  eral decree that the feuding parties will
  have to clean up (and pay for) any mess
  they make and a prohibition against harm-
  ing the students. Undergrads in particular
  are supposed to be off-limits for serious
  damage, though having their dorm room
  doors welded shut is a perfectly reasonable
  solution to keeping them from being blown
  up along with their classroom. Graduate
  students are more likely to be “accidently”
  targeted, since they often help professors
  with research and paperwork. Aside from
  those guidelines, meant to keep the destruc-
  tion and student unease at a minimum, the
  feuding parties are generally left to their
  own devices.
  Faculty bloodfeuds are most often
  fought on the department or college level.
  Personal disputes can be dealt with this
  way, but the participants generally choose
  a less-formal duel at high noon in the Pent
  instead.
  Reasons for faculty bloodfeuds
  include:
  � Absorbing a smaller college or
  school as a department.
  � Attempting to acquire a department
  for one’s own college.
  � Eliminating competition for one’s
  own school, department, research project
  or promotion.
  � Keeping a department from becom-
  ing a school, or a group of professors from
  founding a new department.
  Continued on next page . . .
  35
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  Greek), along with the usual Archeology. Theology and Literature are highly rec-
  ommended for those studying the Romans and Greeks. Skills are also taught for
  Tech Levels 1 and 2.
  Graduates can make a nice living excavating ancient ruins, but many prefer to
  become movie consultants – it’s nice to see an orgy being done right for a change.
  Typical courses: AH127 – Things to See and Do in Ancient Rome, AH202 –
  Egyptian Tomb Construction Secrets, AH203 – Escaping Pharaohs’ Curses,
  AH399 – Selling Pots to the Beaker People, AH420 – Designing Mysterious
  Ancient Monuments for Modern Tourist Attractions, AH453 – Investment
  Opportunities: Roman Road Contracts.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF MMEEDDIIEEVVAALL SSTTUUDDIIEESS
  For the years 411 A.D. to 1492 A.D. (Columbus’ first journey) the depart-
  ment of Medieval Studies is in charge. Technically, they should have left off
  around 1485, the beginning of the Tudor dynasty, but complain that it isn’t fair
  that Ancient History got nearly 3000 years, and they’re stuck with a measly 1000
  or so. They’d like to expand their influence into the 1500s, or even as far as 1775
  (the start of the American Revolution, among others in China and Bohemia), but
  they haven’t been able to manage this yet. This era is a popular study for those
  interested in the rise of the Bavarian Illuminati, though the conspiracy theorists
  claim the Illuminati originated in much earlier times, and the Bavarians were
  merely the first to hire a good publicist.
  As usual, Language Talent is useful for majors and professors, as is Voice
  (traveling bards get to see a lot of neat stuff), and Danger Sense is highly impor-
  tant if researching anything around 1480 – C.T.H.U.L.H.U. students do expect
  the Spanish Inquisition. Medieval Studies teaches mostly the same skills as the
  department of Ancient History, with specializations in their extant cultures, and
  at Tech Levels 3 and 4. They also teach Research, since there’s a lot more writing
  to be found in this period.
  Those with a degree in Medieval Studies can make a nice living working at
  Renaissance Festivals and Faires, being paid bards for Society of Creative
  Anachronism wars and running strange little antique stores that sell daggers
  embedded in rocks . . .
  Typical courses: MS114 – Robbing the Rich to Give to the Poor, MS115 –
  Being the Rich (to Rob from the Poor), MS302 – Investment Opportunities: The
  Joy of Serfdom, MS396 – The Spanish Inquisition: Witchburning for Fun and
  Profit, MS527 – Politics of the Round Table.
  Faculty Bloodfeuds
  (continued)
  � Deadly insults that are better han-
  dled by sending hordes of underlings after
  the offender, rather than facing the culprit
  oneself in a personal duel – especially if
  one’s opponent has a higher level of The
  Treatment.
  Not all bloodfeuds are announced and
  registered. Covert faculty bloodfeuds are
  not uncommon, though the perpetrators are
  also less likely to worry about disturbing
  the students, paying for the cleanup bill or
  any other form of “good sportsthingship.”
  Personal promotions are often achieved via
  unauthorized bloodfeuds. Campus Security
  is supposed to keep covert bloodfeuds
  under control, and if it fails, the ArchDean
  may have a chat with the initiator.
  Other C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  Departments 
  Department of Alternate Histories:
  timeline branching made easy.
  Department of Alternate Universes:
  “sideways time” universes, often very
  strange . . .
  Department of Chronic Funding
  Shortages: stealing from the past to pay
  for the present.
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U.: Department of
  Archeology 
  This department focuses on finding
  and digging up ancient treasures – bearing
  in mind that it’s easier to do both if
  you’ve gone back and planted the stuff
  there in the first place, or at least gotten a
  map of the area while watching someone
  bury the goodies.
  Continued on next page. . . .
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  36
  
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF MMOODDEERRNN HHIISSTTOORRYY
  Starting at 1492 A.D. and continuing on to the present date, the department
  of Modern History has the smallest time-period to maintain itself on, but it’s just
  a matter of time before it racks up a few thousand years . . . This department is
  especially popular with students from the future, who want to fulfill their
  “Modern History” course requirements without having to go over quite so much
  in classes. They are also usually looking for a good stockbroker. Modern
  History majors learn such secrets as who shot JFK and who was buried in
  Grant’s tomb.
  Students and faculty only need an above-average IQ, though professors
  exposed to future students often develop Unfazable. Classes here generally deal
  with “current events” and sociological developments. Tech level skills range
  from TL5 to TL7.
  Graduates do well writing “The Year in Review” articles and books, selling
  war-mementos and sending the local newspaper “When I Was Your Age . . .”
  articles.
  Typical courses: MH231 – The Real Cause of World War II, MH378 – How
  to Be A Railroad Baron, MH411 – Stealth Politics: The Coolidge Era, MH464 –
  Investment Opportunities: Buying in the Depression, MH510 – The Rise of
  Bureaucratic Despotism.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF FFUUTTUURREE HHIISSTTOORRYY
  Starting from tomorrow and ending when the galaxy gets sucked into the
  black hole at its center (or WUSE terraforms it, whichever comes first), the
  Department of Future History is one of the stranger departments – unlike most
  other departments in the University, it seems to have little jealousy over its
  “turf,” and calmly turns over each old day to the department of Modern History,
  along with all the paperwork and reference material it’s assembled. It also has
  popular classes, since modern-day students like knowing which horses to bet on
  next month.
  The only necessity for majors and professors is an ability to deal with tempo-
  ral paradoxes, uncertainty principles and other hazards of knowing the future, or a
  future, or several futures . . . Skills taught include some very strange specializa-
  tions of History, Research, Languages, Savior-Faire and Gambling.
  Those with a Future History degree make absolutely spectacular stock-mar-
  ket predictors, gamblers and unofficial government astrologers.
  Typical courses: FH109 – Yesterday and Yesterday and Yesterday, Creeps in
  its Petty Pace, FH310 – Jam Yesterday and Jam Tomorrow: Having Your Cake
  and Eating it Too, FH652 – Investment Opportunities: Avoiding the SEC.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF OORRTTHHOODDOOXX CCHHRROONNOODDIISSPPLLAACCEEMMEENNTT TTHHEEOORRYY AANNDD
  OORRIIGGIINNAALL RREESSEEAARRCCHH ((DD..OO..CC..TT..OO..RR..))
  This department is dedicated to time travel R&D, C.T.H.U.L.H.U.-style. i.e.,
  sloppy, sporadic and mostly with a view to figuring out how to get five or six ver-
  sions of oneself together for a party, or ways of sneaking into zones of time that
  aren’t easily accessible. It might get more useful work done if it wasn’t disputing
  territory with WUSE (the Department of Temporal Engineering, in particular)
  which claims the Department of Chronodisplacement Theory should be under its
  control since it knows how to do research. It also thinks that C.T.H.U.L.H.U. is too
  acronym-happy. Failing to acquire the department by the usual means – bribery,
  assassination and blackmail – the Temporal Engineers have fallen back on the old
  Other C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  Departments
  (continued)
  Since there’s still a certain amount of
  guess-work associated with archeology,
  not to mention a lot of digging out in the
  sun, Intuition is a helpful advantage for
  professors and majors, and HT is good for
  avoiding sunstroke. The primary skill
  taught is Archaeology, of course, often
  specializing in a particular period of histo-
  ry. Other skills include Architecture, to
  figure out what old buildings were, Traps,
  to deal with one’s more paranoid ances-
  tors, Holdout, to deal with troublesome
  customs inspectors, a bit of Geology and
  Prospecting, History and Literature.
  (Remember Schliemann and the city of
  Troy . . .) Language skills for one’s spe-
  cialty era are also important, especially if
  one wants to go sightseeing first.
  Graduates find work digging things up
  and selling them to museums and collec-
  tors, or on the black market.
  Typical courses: Arc102 – Basic
  Burial Grounds: Your Neighbor’s
  Compost Pile, Arc303 – Intermediate
  Burial Grounds: Your Local Graveyard,
  Arc504 – Advanced Burial Grounds: The
  La Brea Tar Pits, Arc721 – Egyptian
  Practical Jokes, Arc??? – The Lost Arc.
  37
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  standby: an extended siege designed to keep D.O.C.T.O.R. from doing anything
  useful or profitable.
  Majors in this department will find that temporal advantages are helpful, as is
  Combat Reflexes (to deal with the bloodfeud). Temporal disadvantages (such as
  being Unique in all the timelines or alternate dimensions) are unusually common
  in D.O.C.T.O.R. students and faculty, for some reason. Skills taught here are
  History, Electronics Operation (Temporal Devices) and Temporal Physics (the
  theoretical science of time travel; a Mental/Very Hard skill, detailed in GURPS
  Time Travel, p. TT35). Combat and Thief/Spy skills are also honed, though not
  intentionally – that bloodfeud again.
  Graduates from this major would, theoretically, go into jobs such as stock
  market forecasters, historians and fortune tellers for the local supermarket check-
  out lane newspapers. However, there have been no graduates since this depart-
  ment was founded.
  Typical courses: DOCT132 – Paradox or Pair of Doctors: Visiting Yourself,
  DOCT133 – Double-Dating with Yourself, DOCT307 – The Orobouros Theory
  of Time, DOCT428 – The Moebius Effect: Timestream Splits and Temporal
  Loops, DOCT579 – Practical Applications of Time Travel in Alibis, DOCT652 –
  Chronogation: Asking the Natives “Do You Have the Time?”.
  SCHOOL OF CONSERVATIVE
  ARTS (SCA)
  “. . . and in conclusion, we are very grateful, on behalf of our students, for
  the contributions from the distinguished gentlething from our government, and
  we are sure the graduates will remember this favor as they go out into the world
  and take over their own businesses.”
  SCA is the business school. Considering a lot of the practices taught here, it
  could be considered “funny business,” though the No Sense of Humor disadvan-
  tage is a universal requirement for faculty, and common among students. The
  Mundane advantage is more common at SCA than any other division of IOU,
  and for this reason most students shun both the SCA section of campus, and
  SCA majors. For one thing, they have no sense of style: when the rest of the
  campus has a virtual dress code of slogan-bearing T-shirts and jeans, SCA
  majors dress in three-piece suits and power ties! “Tacky” doesn’t begin to
  describe it . . .
  SCHOOL OF PERFORMING AND
  CREATIVE ARTS
  “There’s No Business Like the Oldest Business . . .”
  This division of the University covers various performance and creative arts,
  including the oldest “performance art” of all. The students and faculty often tend
  to invent their own “counter-culture” – which means that with their flamboyant
  dress, weird jargon and accents and odd affectations, they blend right into the rest
  of the campus population.
  Many of the students here are almost indistinguishable from Bimbiras (p. 87)
  and Kajones (p. 89), though there are also some students with actual talent. An
  unusual Appearance is almost mandatory, either Beautiful/Handsome or better, or
  Hideously Ugly (which is considered “chic” here).
  Other SCA
  Departments
  SCA: Department of Empire-Building
  Known as the Department of Business
  Administration in less honest versions of the
  course catalog, this is the major of choice for
  those students who want to own half the
  known universe . . . by sometime next week.
  The most notable characteristic of fac-
  ulty and students in this department is the
  Greed disadvantage. Many have the -10-
  point Odious Personal Habit: Likes
  Flaunting Wealth. Megalomania is not
  unknown, especially for those who also
  have political ambitions. Skills taught here
  include Administration, Accounting,
  Merchant and Economics.
  Graduates find ready employment in
  large corporations as executive assistants,
  flunkies and yes-things. Some who start
  out Very Wealthy or better go into the
  venture capital business, taking over suc-
  cessful businesses started by naive young
  entrepreneurs.
  Typical courses: EB204 – Guerilla
  Accounting, EB381 – How to Commit
  Tax Fraud, EB462 – Starting Your Own
  Agribusiness: Profit From Government
  Subsidies, EB500 – 1001 Scams for All
  Occasions, EB704 – Hoard-Building for
  Dragons: Exploiting Economies of Scale.
  Other SPCA
  Departments
  Department of Hysteria: reacting
  appropriately to any emergency: panic.
  SPCA: Melodrama Department 
  Specializing in the Acting and
  Performance skills, the department teaches
  basic overacting to various celebrities from
  sports, bodybuilding and modelling, opening
  up profitable careers in bad movies, TV
  advertising and writing (the actual writing is
  done by ghost writers, of course, but the
  celebrity “writer” has to learn how to behave
  on talk shows). The Melodrama department
  also includes professional wrestling, which
  the Department of Physical Education refus-
  es to touch. (No one bets on something
  that’s known to be rigged!)
  Students in the department normally
  have high Social Status, Wealth or
  Appearance (wrestlers only need high
  ST). Professors only need lots of patience.
  Graduates normally go on to undistin-
  guished, if profitable, movie and televi-
  sion careers. Some of them become
  household names, being used in place of
  terms like “incompetent” or “pond scum.”
  Typical courses: Melo130 – Finding an
  Agent, Melo287 – Shameless Self-
  Promotion, Melo345 – Selling Your
  Autobiography, Melo346 – Finding a
  Ghost-Writer for Your Autobiography,
  Melo518 – Avoiding Talk-Show Hosts
  Who Might Actually Read Your Book.
  Continued on next page. . . .
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  38
  
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF CCIINNEEMMAATTOOGGRRAAPPHHYY
  Home to would-be Hitchcocks and Spielbergs, this department is pure
  Hollywood. Professors here can’t even “do lunch” without an accompanying film
  crew. Advanced grad students have discovered a new way to make low-budget
  SF and horror blockbusters – they follow other students around and film their
  lives!
  Requirements for students and faculty are few: serious deficiencies in vision or
  hearing are disqualifications, while Odious Personal Habits are a near-necessity.
  Successful professors often have a high Reputation and are Filthy Rich. A few
  choose to make critically-acclaimed films that lose money – the ArchDean appears
  to tolerate this for the tax-writeoff potential. The primary skills taught here are
  Photography, Writing and Video Production.
  Talented graduates can look forward to an illustrious career making
  Hollywood blockbusters, long-running TV series and beer commercials. Less-
  talented majors wind up running the local cable public-access channel, make use
  of contacts with other SPCA Ilumni to make X-rated films or team up with
  COUP grads to cast, produce and direct blackmail material.
  Typical courses: Cine210 – How to Produce a Sure-Fire Tax Loss to Attract
  Investors, Cine211 – Cooking the Books to Avoid Paying Residuals, Cine420 –
  Secret Blockbuster Formulas, Cine421 – How to Ignore the Critics, Cine589 –
  How to Be Snubbed at the Oscars and Laugh Your Way to the Bank.
  Other SPCA
  Departments
  (continued)
  SPCA: Department of Physical Education 
  The P.E. department covers a broad
  range of topics in its classes. Sports are
  taught here, except professional wrestling,
  and the department of House-Making fre-
  quently co-teaches certain courses (particu-
  larly a different kind of professional
  wrestling).
  P.E. majors and faculty are noted for
  high physical attributes, especially DX
  and ST, and a number of the students have
  the Jock advantage. Skills taught include
  Erotic Art (from GURPS Callahan’s
  Crosstime Saloon), Dancing, Acrobatics,
  Weapons skills (especially Fencing,
  Brawling and Martial Arts), First Aid, all
  Sports skills, Performance, Running,
  Swimming, Hang-Gliding and Skiing.
  After graduation, students go on to
  careers in professional sports, stunt-
  doubling and acting.
  Typical courses: PE101 – Sports for
  Nerds, PE102 – Thinking for Jocks,
  PE432 – Finding an Agent, PE655 – How
  to Strike for Mega-salaries, PE244 –
  Breaking Opponents’ Heads, PE245 –
  Breaking Contracts, PE533 – Retiring as a
  “Color Commentator” on TV.
  SPCA: Department of House-Making
  The shift to a post-industrial economy
  based on service industries hasn’t taken
  IOU by surprise – since the founding of
  the University, this department has pro-
  vided unparalleled training in the oldest
  service industry. (In fact, DoHM claims to
  be the first IOU department, though this is
  disputed by the Department of Applied
  Theology.) Course textbooks, usually by
  “Professor Anonymous” account for 42%
  of the Campus Bookstore’s profits; used
  textbooks are rarely available, though
  more copies are sold every year than there
  are students in the SPCA.
  Faculty and students are generally of at
  least Attractive appearance, and commonly
  have Charisma, Voice and a high HT.
  Lecherousness and Greed are typical disad-
  vantages. Skills taught are Sex Appeal,
  Merchant, Administration, Leadership,
  Professional Skill (Courtesan), Erotic Art
  (found in GURPS Callahan’s Crosstime
  Saloon), Acting, Performance, Diplomacy,
  Psychology, Physiology, Politics, Dancing
  and Law.
  Graduates often gravitate to centers of
  wealth and power, where they can apply
  their skills in molding the careers of major
  financial and political leaders.
  Continued on next page . . . 
  39
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  COLLEGE OF METAPHYSICS
  “Sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology. So there.”
  While not quite as flashy as its technological counterpart, WUSE, the
  College of Metaphysics is just as large and influential, especially when it comes
  to anything even remotely occult – like stock market fluctuations. Students often
  refer to themselves as “Metaphysics Mage-ors,” and claim that their college is
  run by a “Dean-mon.” It should be no surprise that the practice of Pun Magic
  (see sidebar, p. 115) is almost universal within the college.
  Students and faculty are recruited for Magery, though there is the occasional tal-
  ented scholar who does not have it. Individuals with Magic Resistance (or
  Mundanity) are encouraged to stay far away from the College of Metaphysics. An
  above-average IQ is preferred, while physical statistics are often average or worse.
  All the “Colleges” of magic listed in GURPS Magic and GURPS Grimoire
  are departments within the College of Metaphysics – the “Weather College” is
  split out and the Water department is still reeling from the recent formation of the
  Ice department. Majors in a particular department often have One-College
  Magery for that spell college.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF AALLCCHHEEMMYY
  This department has a running contest with WUSE over who can produce the
  most spectacular explosions. They managed a plaid cloud with the Stars-and-
  Stripes below it last year. Unfortunately, it also melted half the building into
  something reminiscent of a Salvador Dali painting.
  A high IQ is the only important characteristic for professors and students
  here, though Pyromania is a common disadvantage. And after many years of
  explosive experiences, quite a few professors have either the Deafness or
  Brontophobia disadvantages. High HT and Toughness can be useful in surviving
  failed experiments, and HT also helps in resisting the effects of that unknown
  elixir you just tasted . . . Alchemy skill is the only major subject taught here,
  though a few progressive professors have started adding Chemistry to the cur-
  riculum.
  Career options for graduates include the classical little shop hidden in an
  alley, as well as selling “miracle” diets on cable TV ads and even starting mall
  chain stores specializing in “nutrition.”
  Typical courses: Alch104 – Better Living Through Alchemy, Alch283 – New
  Age for Old Elixirs, Alch314 – Ethics of Love Potions, Alch591 – Marketing
  “Alternative” Medicines, Alch592 – “Food Supplements:” Avoiding the FDA.
  Other SPCA
  Departments
  (continued)
  Typical courses: HM100 – Public
  Relations, HM269 – Word of Mouth
  Advertising Techniques, HM308 –
  Double-Entry Bookkeeping, HM309 –
  Double-Entendre Housekeeping, HM675
  – Discreet Public Relations for
  Congressthings, HM676 – Government
  Subsidies for the Arts.
  Other CoM
  Departments
  Department of Applied Theology: alias
  for FIAT, below.
  Department of Computer Theology:
  Mac vs. IBM, etc.
  Department of Fundamental Interactive
  Applied Theology (FIAT): universe-building
  in seven days or less, or your money back.
  Department of Fundamentology: fanat-
  ic religions made easy; lots of internal
  strife here.
  Department of Inept Enchantment:
  where all the really fun magic items come
  from . . .
  CoM: Department of Theology
  The Department of Theology is the
  place to major if you’re an up and coming
  demi-deity, or merely want to start your
  own religion without performing miracles
  to kick-start it. Demons, deities, compara-
  tive religions and theological theory all
  fall into this department.
  Faculty and students here usually have
  either Clerical Investment or odd advan-
  tages that put one in the running for Deity
  of the Month. Very high levels of
  Appearance, Charisma and Social Status
  are common, as are super powers.
  Reputations – both good and bad – are
  possible, though less common. Ally Group
  (followers) is suitable for would-be deities.
  Continued on next page . . . 
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  40
  
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF TTEEMMPPOORRAALL MMEETTAAPPHHYYSSIICCSS
  Not wanting to be left out of the fun, the College of Metaphysics founded its
  own time-travel research department. Since the appropriate WUSE and
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. departments are 1) already feuding, and 2) technologically ori-
  ented, the Temporal Metaphysicists are mostly ignored. C.T.H.U.L.H.U. will still
  try to do something about anyone who shows up more than a few weeks in the
  past, though.
  Most of the Gate spells (see p. G44) are taught here, concentrating on the
  ones that affect time (to reduce friction with the Gate and Movement depart-
  ments). Majors and faculty generally have at least Magery 3 (One-College
  Magery is permitted, if it’s the right College to cast the spells), and an IQ of 15
  or above is required for some of the spells. Absolute Timing and Absolute
  Direction can be helpful advantages. Absent-Mindedness is a common disadvan-
  tage, perhaps from living in other time-zones too much.
  Like most magically-inclined graduates, Temporal Physicists have trouble
  finding jobs in their specialty. They often become free-lance authors of “what-if”
  fiction, photojournalists who always seem to be “on the spot” to cover major
  events, or drivers for overnight package delivery services.
  Typical courses: TM104 – Being on Time for Classes, TM344 – Taking Time
  Off for Vacations . . . During Classes, TM588 – Enchantments I: Chrono-
  displacing Broomsticks, TM589 – Enchantments II: Temporal Carpetweaving,
  TM606 – Building a Better Time-Trap.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF TTHHAAUUMMAATTUURRGGYY
  For those with no Magery, but the desire to dabble in spells anyway, the
  College of Metaphysics provides a home to the “pure” theory of magic. This
  department spends its time designing new spells (and convincing Magery-gifted
  grad students in other departments to test them). Recent research has led to the
  discovery of hundreds of new “mega-mana” spells, which are currently awaiting
  the location of a mage with enough Fatigue to handle spells requiring 50,000
  points of energy . . . Some of the more impatient professors have designed a
  lunar power plant to generate the necessary mana, but so far they’ve been
  unsuccessful in convincing the ArchDean that their $3 billion project will do
  anything more than provide fireworks exceeding WUSE’s best efforts.
  Other than high IQs, there are no requirements for Thaumaturgy professors and
  students. Absent-Mindedness and Overconfidence are common disadvantages;
  Other CoM
  Departments
  (continued)
  Department graduates usually find jobs
  as the heads of major religions, or get
  good minor positions in an open pantheon
  and try to work their way up to Chief
  Honcho of Everything.
  Typical courses: Theo210 – Religious
  Accounting: Tax-Free Tithing, Theo269 –
  How to Justify Anything, Theo315 –
  Aerobic Demon-Summoning: The
  Healthy Route to Infernal Power, Theo482
  – Creative Mythology, Theo483 –
  Creation Myths: Starting Out Right,
  Theo666 – Religion and Politics: Pros and
  Cons of Theocracy, Theo777 – Creating a
  Universe in Seven Easy Steps, Theo795 –
  Start Your Own Religion.
  CoM: Department of Political Thaumaturgy 
  In contrast to WUSE’s Department of
  Political Science, the Political Thaumatur-
  gy department is concerned with manipu-
  lating politics, by arcane means, of course.
  This includes techniques like polling, TV
  advertising and the application of voodoo
  to political opponents.
  Faculty and students in this department
  tend to specialize in Communication and
  Empathy, Mind Control and Knowledge
  magic. A minority have the psi powers of
  Telepathy, ESP and Psychic Vampirism.
  Classes in the department teach skills
  within these areas, as well as Politics skill.
  Graduates usually find jobs in the
  political machine as political forecasters,
  pollsters and “special assistants.”
  Typical courses: PT109 – Boosting
  Your Candidate’s Charisma Through
  Witchcraft, PT207 – Divination Spells:
  Picking the Winning Issues, PT317 –
  Using Knowledge Spells to Dig Up Dirt,
  PT333 – Running for Office, PT516 –
  Winning Debates With Mind Control
  Spells.
  41
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  some of the more progressive professors think Mathematical Ability is useful.
  The primary skills taught here are Research, Thaumatology (see p. G5) and
  Weird Magic.
  Due to the lack of practicing mages in the wider world, there is very little call
  for magical theoreticians. Most of them tend to vanish into other dimensions while
  observing tests of their new spells, anyway. The survivors usually become profes-
  sors at IOU or one of the few rival universities that teach occult subjects.
  Typical courses: Thau213 – Drawing Accurate Pentacles, Thau399 – Dr.
  Goldberg’s Methodology for Spell Synergy, Thau418 – Combining Spells for
  New Effects, Thau666 – 1001 Demons for All Occasions, Thau777 – High-
  Energy Spellcasting.
  COLLEGE OF COMMUNICATIONS
  “Fnord. Fnord. Communists. Fnord. National security. Fnord. The people
  have a right to know. Fnord. Higher ratings. Fnord. Fnord. Fnord. Good of the
  people. Fnord.”
  The College of Communications (headquartered in the Smedstad building)
  was formed several centuries ago in response to the rise of the mass media, and
  its influence on the populace and the government. It covers all forms of commu-
  nication, but concentrates on those aspects that help to influence and control the
  masses, such as advertising, public relations and television.
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF JJOOUURRNNAALLIISSMM
  The journalism department differs from the Mass Media department in that it
  promotes values of truth, justice and bigger circulations – influencing the public is
  not a consideration. Unless it’s for the greater social good, of course. This depart-
  ment has a harder problem with influencing the public: its target audience can
  actually read.
  Since journalists aren’t as exposed to the public, they have less need for
  advantages that influence other people. Still, Empathy, Voice, Charisma and psi
  Telepathy power are all useful in interviewing people to get stories. Investigative
  reporter types often have Enemies (anyone with something to hide). Skills taught
  here include Writing, Detect Lies, Diplomacy, Politics, Interrogation and an
  assortment of Thief/Spy skills.
  Most graduates become newspaper reporters and magazine writers.
  Typical courses: Jour114 – Surveillance Techniques for the Journalist, Jour390
  – Cover-Ups, Jour391 – Exposes, Jour415 – Concealing Sources, Jour416 –
  Betraying Sources, Jour417 – Inventing Sources, Jour721 – Advanced Exculpation.
  Other CoC
  Departments
  Department of Admissions: explaining
  things using the “yeah, we did it, so
  what?” policy. The title is useful for con-
  fusing students looking for Admissions in
  the administration.
  Department 
  of 
  Disinformation
  Management: lying for fun and profit, or at
  least political gain.
  Department of THE computer Psychol-
  ogy: conning THE computer, or at least
  trying – members of this department rarely
  graduate.
  Department of Apologies: cooling peo-
  ple down by saying “we’re sorry we did it;
  it won’t happen again.”
  Department of Cover-Ups: using the
  “we didn’t do it” strategy.
  COC: Department of Government Studies
  Government bureaucracies do an
  incredible amount of communicating –
  though the actual information content may
  be low to nil. Most administrative actions
  “require study” before implementation,
  and this is where the people who write all
  those studies are trained.
  The primary requisites for faculty and
  students in Government Studies are those
  which lead to their selection to do such
  studies: Voice, Charisma, Wealth and a
  high Fast-Talk skill are all desirable.
  Contacts (in the government) are useful in
  getting advance warning of juicy research
  contracts. The main skills taught here are
  Writing, Fast-Talk, Diplomacy and
  Politics. (These allow one to do a “study”
  with nothing more than a lot of meaning-
  less words that sound good, while avoid-
  ing offending one’s sponsor or anyone
  with any political significance.)
  Graduates find jobs either in the gov-
  ernment itself, working for a “Beltway
  Bandit” – a Washington-based consulting
  firm specializing in useless government
  studies – or continue on in academia,
  where they can get lucrative government
  work with lower overhead (and better per-
  sonal profits).
  Typical courses: GS134 – Getting
  Contracts: It’s Not What You Know, It’s
  Who Knows You, GS210 – Historical
  Revisionism for Fun, Profit and Re-elec-
  tion, GS346 – Starting Your Own
  Totalitarian State, GS476 – Fudging Data
  to Support the “Right” Conclusions,
  GS498 – Advanced Political Correctness,
  GS622 – Accounting for Consultants:
  Advanced Bill-Padding.
  Continued on next page . . .
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  42
  
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT OOFF MMAASSSS MMEEDDIIAA
  Specializing in television, advertising and other forms of mass brainwashing,
  the Mass Media department is a pale shadow of the Cinematography department
  in SPCA. What matters here is motivation – primarily the motivation to motivate
  others to do what you want, whether your goals are political, economic or simply
  social meddling for the sake of personal ego-gratification.
  Students and faculty are well-advised to have the Charisma and Voice advan-
  tages, at least if they intend to be front-line manipulators. Empathy or the psi
  Telepathy power can also come in useful. Skills taught in the department include
  Bard, Acting, Performance, Diplomacy, Savoir-Faire, Fast-Talk, Video
  Production and the Telepathy psi skills, especially Aspect (see p. P20), Suggest
  (p. P24), Emotion Sense, Telecontrol and Mindwipe.
  Graduates go on to jobs as television news anchors, commentators and per-
  sonalities, join advertising firms on Madison Avenue or become politicians.
  Typical courses: MM131 – We Want What You Want; You Want What We
  Want, MM451 – Saying Nothing in 500 Words or More, MM275 – Designing
  “Sound Bites,” MM643 – Political Advertising: A Match Made in Heaven.
  SCHOOL OF SOCIAL
  ANTI-SCIENCES
  “We don’t do useful things here. We devote ourselves to pure Art and
  Research.”
  The School of Social Anti-Sciences is the other refuge of Mundanes on cam-
  pus – those who do not have an aptitude for the SCA courses wind up at SSAS.
  This School has hostile relations with nearly every other school and college at IOU,
  though it disdains to participate in faculty bloodfeuds. The Environmental Studies
  Department dislikes WUSE, the Department of Government Liberties disputes
  COUP’s practices, and the Department of True Historical Research throws a
  tantrum every time C.T.H.U.L.H.U. misplaces a 12th-century cobblestone. In fact,
  the only two colleges that SSAS remotely gets along with are the School of
  Conservative Arts, which is also full of Mundanes with No Sense of Humor, and
  the College of Zen Surrealism, which seems relatively untainted by the petty grasp-
  ing after profits shown by the rest of the University. (Including the School of Social
  Anti-Sciences, though it hides it well.)
  Other CoC
  Departments
  (Continued)
  CoC: Department of Information
  Management 
  The growing amount of information in
  the world has created the “Information
  Crisis” – the problem of organizing data
  so that people can find it and, more impor-
  tantly, hiding data from people who
  shouldn’t find it. Once just “Library
  Science,” the introduction of computers
  sparked a rapid expansion of the field,
  resulting in new research opportunities.
  The most useful advantage for faculty
  and majors in the department is Eidetic
  Memory (especially second level). Intuition
  can also be helpful in locating obscure
  facts. Many research professionals have the
  Odious Personal Habit “Will Drone On
  About Unrelated Subjects at Length.” The
  primary skill taught here is Research.
  Many graduates become librarians in
  universities or corporations, while others
  go into civil service jobs, collating and
  organizing data in such a way as to hide
  whatever disasters this month’s govern-
  ment policies are generating.
  Typical courses: IM212 – Locating
  Obscure Information, IM213 – Obscuring
  Locator Information, IM402 – Things
  Man Was Not Meant to Know, IM403 –
  Men Things Were Not Meant to Know,
  IM570 – If Data Is Good, More Data Is
  Better: Making It Up.
  CoC: Department of Technical Writing 
  The demand in the high-tech industries
  for writers led the college to create this
  department, which specializes in format-
  ting, editing and sometimes translating
  techno-babble.
  Professors and majors in the depart-
  ment need skills in the various Scientific
  skills, and Language Talent can be useful
  in learning specialized jargon. Intuition
  can also be helpful when looking for fea-
  tures to document. Skills taught in the
  department include Writing, Interrogation
  (to pry important details out of Absent-
  Minded engineers) and Diplomacy (to
  keep the engineers from realizing they’ve
  had Interrogation skill used on them).
  Lucrative jobs for graduates are avail-
  able in many companies working in the
  fields of science and engineering. Most
  majors specialize in one or two sciences
  or engineering disciplines.
  Typical courses: TW112 – Under-
  standing Techno-Babble, TW213 – TLAs:
  Three Letter Acronyms, TW214 – Creating
  Imaginative Acronyms (required course for
  all WUSE majors), TW381 – Making Up
  Information, TW390 – Divination: The
  Last Resort, TW402 – Writing User
  Manuals, TW403 – Understanding User
  Manuals.
  43
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  The core of SSAS is the English Department – most SSAS administrators are
  or were English professors. Teachers in the School of Social Anti-Sciences are
  frequently Mundanes, and the No Sense of Humor disadvantage is common, as
  are Jealousy and Intolerance (Undergrads) – frequently concealed by high levels
  of Acting. Some have been known to have Bully, Sadism or Megalomania.
  Lecherousness is rarely acted upon, but attractive students of the appropriate gen-
  der(s) will get decent grades for minimal work. SSAS majors will usually be sim-
  ilar to the teachers, with the addition of Secret Enemy (a jealous thesis advisor or
  teacher). Some students are idealists when they pick the major, but will become
  cynics by their junior years.
  EENNGGLLIISSHH DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT
  This would be disputed with the College of Communications, but there’s some
  debate about the communication-value of the English Department . . . However, the
  English Department is the most powerful single department on campus, as every
  student is required to take at least one English class, or more if English is not the
  freshthing’s native language. There are two theories for this requirement: either the
  English Department kicks back a lot of the tuition for that class to the ArchDean, or
  . . . somehow it has a hold on the ArchDean herself. Nobody knows, and everybody
  suspects that knowing could be hazardous to their health.
  The English Department is one of the few departments on campus that is vio-
  lently anti-tech – even normal TL7 equipment, like IBM-compatible computers or
  Macintoshes, is shunned violently by the department’s administration. Instead, they
  do everything on paper, and the chairthing actually prefers to deal with hand-
  copied records. Due to this mindset, many grades are misplaced, lost or destroyed
  when somebody spills coffee on them, which means that students may have to take
  English classes ad nauseam. This wouldn’t be so bad, except that the English
  Department often doesn’t notice that a student “needs” to take a particular class
  until the student is applying to graduate; then the English administration sends a
  frantic little note (occasionally on a clay tablet), declaring that the student cannot
  possibly graduate until his English requirement is fulfilled! 
  Higher level courses are apparently designed to produce new critically-
  acclaimed Great American Novels, which will depress future generations of
  high-school English students – thus making them easier to control. Of course,
  some of the stuff is so depressing that the people who “enjoy” reading it typically
  commit suicide afterward, considerably reducing the market share and profits for
  this sort of writing. Sometimes the writers even have to pay the publisher to print
  it, which one would think the ArchDean would frown upon . . .
  Other SSAS
  Departments
  Department of Civil Liberties: filing
  nuisance lawsuits to benefit “the people.”
  Department of Government Liberties:
  filing nuisance lawsuits to benefit the
  government.
  Department of Misanthropology:
  studying the inferiority of everyone else’s
  culture.
  SSAS: Department of Education
  This is the department that (allegedly)
  teaches how to teach. An Education
  degree is required for teaching grade- and
  high-school classes at public schools (pri-
  vate schools may or may not require one,
  and universities only insist on a Ph.D in
  the subject to be taught).
  There are no requirements for majors
  and faculty in this department. The only
  skills taught here are Teaching,
  Leadership (of children), Psychology
  (children) and Politics (academic). Note
  that all these skills, save Politics, are more
  theory than fact, and any resemblance to
  reality is strictly optional. Students inter-
  ested in teaching above grade school lev-
  els will normally have a secondary major,
  such as History, English, a foreign lan-
  guage or a variety of low-level Scientific
  skills. Typical skill levels in the specialty
  will be low – 12 or less – Education grad-
  uates aren’t really expected to know much
  about what they teach. Understanding the
  current theories of student motivation,
  psychology and political correctness is
  much more important.
  Graduates go on to underpaid teaching
  jobs in their secondary major. Lucky grad-
  uates find fulfilling jobs as taxi drivers or
  fast-food franchise managers.
  Typical courses: Edu210 – No “Bad”
  Students: Handling Psychologically-
  Disadvantaged Individuals, Edu304 –
  “Gifted” Students: A Threat to Equality?,
  Edu461 – How To Teach Anything
  Without Understanding It, Edu542 –
  Parent-Teacher Conferences: Go For the
  Dirt!
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  44
  
  Professors must have the No Sense of Humor disadvantage, and Mega-
  lomania is more common than one might suspect. Majors have Stubbornness,
  Overconfidence or a -5 point Delusion (I will learn how to be a great author in
  this department). Surprisingly enough, Writing skill is actually taught here – at
  least, the technical things like spelling and punctuation. Other skills include
  Research, English, Literature, Psychology and (arguably) Poetry.
  There are also classes in Teaching, specializing in English, Literature, Writing or
  Poetry, for aspiring schoolteachers. (The English: Teaching majors are often known
  as “Vowelly Girls,” generally have the Gullibility disadvantage, and spend far too
  much of their time listening to the Jocks in their classes and going, “Ooooo.”)
  Those escaping with an English degree have few job opportunities that take
  advantage of all those classes they took. The Teaching majors can find work as
  underpaid schoolteachers, but the rest generally eke out existences as starving
  authors, trying to convince prestigious magazines to publish their short stories. A
  few, however, turn away from their teachers’ work-ethics and write runaway
  best-sellers (not to mention movie scripts), infinite books in continuing series or
  supplements for role-playing games. (These few renegades are quietly erased
  from the files in the English Department, since they made the scandalous choice
  to be popular, and worse, actually made money at it.)
  Typical courses: Eng001 – Freshman English (the English department doesn’t
  want to be politically correct . . .), Eng117 – Creative Apathy, Eng263 – Inducing
  Suicidal Depression, Eng271 – Existentialism as a Way of Life, Eng308 – Forming
  Your Own Mutual-Admiration Society Writing Clique, Eng535 – Literary Criticism:
  How to Pan Anything Popular, Eng610 – Deprecating Popular “Classics,” Eng611 –
  Patronizing E.A. Poe, Eng694 – Measuring Angst: the Angstrom, Eng770 – Polite
  Sneering at Popular Artists, Eng771 – Snubbing Steven King.
  COLLEGE OF ZEN SURREALISM
  “Ommmms! Ommmms for the poor!”
  If we knew what this was, we’d tell you (maybe). But it seems to get money
  from somewhere . . . Since its formation, CZS has provided a home for those
  departments that are so totally divorced from reality that they have trouble sup-
  porting themselves even in a university environment, where circular justifications
  for subjects are the norm.
  A well-kept secret at IOU is the fact that the output of some of the depart-
  ments here actually have practical applications. It is especially important to keep
  the professors in CZS from discovering this, lest they suffer the Centipede’s
  Dilemma (thinking too hard about which leg moves first, and keeling over in
  nervous fits).
  OTHER CZS
  Departments
  CZS: Department of
  Inapplicable
  Mathematics 
  Since sufficiently advanced mathemat-
  ics is indistinguishable from surrealism, the
  “pure math” people have ended up here.
  (“Applied Mathematics” lives in WUSE.)
  In fact, advanced theoretical math is so dis-
  connected from reality that surrealism is
  concrete in comparison. Researchers here
  spend their time looking for ways to invert
  the sphere, square the circle and transform
  eigenvectors. They also have the only grad-
  uate students on campus who can make a
  decent pot of coffee.
  The primary requirement for students
  and faculty in this department is
  Mathematical Ability and a high IQ.
  Lightning Calculator is useless here –
  these people don’t actually work with,
  ugh, numbers. The only skills taught are
  various specializations of Mathematics
  that have no conceivable use (at least until
  someone discovers hyperdrive and needs
  the math for Astrogation in 13.79-dimen-
  sional non-Euclidean spaces).
  There is no market for graduates of
  this department whatsoever, except for a
  few who become university mathematics
  professors.
  Typical courses: IM403 – Topological
  Characteristics of Chaotic Vortices in
  Fractal Spaces, IM486 – Applications of
  Eigenvalue Decomposition to Harding’s
  N-Dimensional Hyperplane-Folding
  Problem, IM612 – Applications of Chaos
  Theory to Art: Profit from Higher Math,
  IM775 – The Mathematics of Null-
  Dimensional Non-Spaces.
  45
  CCoolllleeggeess aanndd ddeeppaarrttmmeennttss
  
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  46
  S
  arah Holden sighed. Rush week again, and
  all the Greek-system advocates were out in
  force. So, for that matter, were all the other
  campus societies, all trying to recruit new members
  – or at least get votes for more of the Student
  Activity funds. And that was where the Daily
  Illuminator thought the biggest scoop of the week
  would be, so that was where Sarah was, casually
  wandering through the crowds in the Student Union
  and snapping photos of tables and booths that bore
  Greek letters or other arcane logos.
  
  The Team had fallen back on their old standby: a bowl full of meep keychains,
  some newspaper clippings of past wins, and seven hefty members bodily carrying
  likely candidates back to their corner to be indoctrinated. Sarah hastily switched
  to her color camera as a couple of the Team bore down on a fellow with a most
  fascinating purplish tan. The first shot captured the freshthing’s panic perfectly,
  while the second was absolutely priceless as the two bulky students looked around
  for their quarry (who had vanished into thin air and was now speeding down the
  hall).
  Passing the sororities’ row, Sarah watched one of the Sigma Epsilon Chi sis-
  ters tracking a particularly attractive young man. An older sister grabbed her
  with a, “Not now, Lisa! We’re looking for new members, not new friends!” In the
  booth next door, complete with holographic starfields, a bewildered Alpha Omega
  Pi asked, “There’s a difference?”
  Sarah rolled her eyes and headed for the Student Overground’s table.
  “Careful,” the guy handing out their flyers said. “You don’t want Them to know
  you’re reading our stuff.”
  The campus reporter nodded. “They won’t find out,” she reassured him, stuff-
  ing the paper into a pocket before she closed on her true target: on the next floor,
  campaigning for the Student Senate was going on, and she wanted a crack at new-
  comer Lirden the Third.
  It was easy to spot the rich kid. He was the one handing out signed pho-
  tographs of himself – amazing, that he’d found someone to print his photo on his
  checks – and making the typical empty promises. Well, it was going to be Sarah
  Holden’s byline on the story that made him or broke him. Let’s see, she thought,
  I’ll start with a few questions about where his folks got the idea for that ice
  cream, and then run the pathos angle on their accident, see if he flinches and
  go for the shady-angle kill. Yeah. That’ll sell some copies. She marched up,
  microphone in one hand and vidcam in the other.
  THE ADMINISTRATION
  That part of the University concerned with day-to-day operations like taking
  out the garbage, collecting fees, repairing blast craters and disposing of snooping
  government agents is collectively known as “The Administration.” (GM note:
  don’t forget to pronounce the capital letters.) Under this title live and lurk a vari-
  ety of useful organizations and useless flunkies, along with endless paper-pushers
  and other bureaucratic middlethings.
  Unlike the colleges and departments in the teaching part of IOU, The
  Administration is under the direct control of the ArchDean, so politics and feuds
  are less obvious, and tend to involve currying favor, rather than nuking the opposi-
  tion back to the Stone Age (or further, if C.T.H.U.L.H.U. is involved).
  Axioms of
  Administration 
  Power corrupts.
  Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
  Petty power corrupts all out of propor-
  tion to actual power.
  Campus Mail 
  If you want a message to get to some-
  one, it’s usually best to send it via electron-
  ic mail over THE computer. However,
  sometimes people want to send physical
  paper and ink, cuneiform tablets, or letter
  bombs, and that means the letter or parcel
  passes into the hands of the Campus
  Mailthings.
  Getting a job with Campus Mail is a
  good place to find blackmail material, as
  well as supplementing one’s diet by pilfer-
  ing “care packages” sent by students’
  mothers. On the other manipulator, it’s also
  rife with dangers such as papercuts and
  junk-mail overdoses.
  Primary requirements for getting a job
  with the campus mail service are a DX
  below 7 (or the Klutz disadvantage) and the
  Laziness disadvantage. Demolitions skill is
  considered a plus. High ST (to increase
  crushing damage) is also useful.
  Board of Trustees
  “The Bucks Stop Here.”
  Technically, the ArchDean isn’t the
  final authority on campus – the University
  is ultimately ruled by the Board of
  Trustees. As a practical matter, however,
  the fact that the ArchDean owns 87% of the
  University stock lets her overrule them if
  necessary, and her archives have plenty of
  blackmail material to keep them in line.
  The primary purpose of the Board is to
  set general University policy, and to review
  any appeals of the ArchDean’s decisions.
  (There won’t be any of those, if the poten-
  tial appellants know what’s good for them
  . . .) The Board also sets the ArchDean’s
  salary, and members draw a substantial
  stipend for attending meetings (with a
  bonus if they sleep through the budget
  reviews).
  Current board memebers are: Benedict
  Arnold, Genghis Khan, Mephistopheles,
  Judas Iscariot, Jimmy Hoffa, Richard
  Nixon, Hermes Trismegistus, Al Capone,
  and Professor Moriarty.
  47
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  
  Students who get involved with The Administration should take camping
  equipment and several weeks’ food on expeditions to straighten out bureacratic
  foul-ups. Heavy weapons can also be useful, if applied discreetly.
  CCAAMMPPUUSS ((IINN--))SSEECCUURRIITTYY
  “Semper Fnord. We protect and are
  served — up on a platter.”
  It is Campus Security’s job to keep
  all mayhem that occurs on campus under
  control, protect the paying students, pro-
  tect the paying faculty and staff, and
  recapture loosed Things after faculty
  bloodfeuds. Security guards are provided
  with snazzy uniforms: bright red with
  large, concentric white circles above the
  heart and on the back. They are officially
  armed with stunners (which are subject
  to the Guaranteed Play-Balance Table, p.
  107), but do have access to more destruc-
  tive stuff. Their hobbies are staying alive
  and avoiding student researchers looking
  for experimental subjects. Paranoia is a
  popular survival trait.
  Except for issuing parking tickets,
  Campus Security is singularly ineffec-
  tive, possibly because no one with any
  sense – or competence – wants the job.
  When faced with serious threat to the campus, Security’s tactics are usually:
  1. Dig out the heavy weapons and travel in packs.
  2. Lay down a lot of fire and hope for the resulting collateral damage to
  serendipitously destroy the problem.
  3. Find a good hiding place and hope one of the other guards gets eaten.
  HHEEAALLTTHH SSEERRVVIICCEESS
  The Lazarus Health Center ensures the well-being of the student population,
  primarily through the student health insurance plan. With all the assorted hazards
  of campus life (and death), the Center is one of the busiest places around (even
  beating out Pancho Sanza’s, perhaps due to the fact that the restaurant’s customers
  are also frequent visitors to the Center). The pressures of revolving-door medicine
  and insurance cost-reduction measures make a visit to Lazarus Center a harrowing
  experience for most students.
  The incredibly tortuous rules of the student health insurance policy require the
  affected student to make a “small” co-payment for each visit to the Center. The co-
  payment amount varies wildly from $10 for a resurrection procedure to $72,000 for
  an ingrown toenail removal. In addition, the harried staff tends to use “wallet triage”
  to determine who to treat first. Most students learn to take $50 or so with them to
  bribe the doctors. (“Oh. You wanted a cast on your broken leg.”)
  To keep costs down, many procedures are performed by barely-trained med-
  ical students from COUP. While this may be good experience for the proto-doc-
  tors, the results can be less than satisfactory for the victi . . . ah, patients. One
  common problem is that the COUP students often try to practice whatever proce-
  dures they’ve learned in the past week. It can be very disconcerting to go in to
  Lazarus with the flu and leave with a triple coronary bypass – and the flu.
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  48
  Forms 
  Like all good bureaucracies – assuming
  such a thing is possible – the University
  has a great many paper forms that need to
  be filled out. In triplicate. Without carbons.
  Most of these forms contain hundreds of
  tiny boxes that require most of your life
  history, in detail, in ink. All in spaces suffi-
  cient to write a single period – a small peri-
  od. One or two of the entries on the form
  even relate to the purported reason for the
  form’s existence. But why do they all
  require you to provide your third-favorite
  color? Only The Administration (and the
  Illuminati) know.
  Some suggestions for University
  paperwork to inflict on your players fol-
  low. (Space constraints preclude their
  inclusion here.)
  Drop Form
  Add Form
  Drop-Add Form
  Add-Drop Form
  Multiply Form
  Drop Dead Form
  Egg Drop Form
  Drop Out Form
  Request for Proposal
  Request for Proposition
  Request for Preposition
  Request for Money
  Request for Bribe
  Report of Outside Income
  Report of Insider Income
  Report of Unreported Income
  Eldritch Crossover Environmental
  Impact Statement
  Bomb Impact Statement
  Inter-library Loan
  Outer Library Loan
  Interdimensional Library Loan
  Security Deposit Form
  Announcement of Faculty Blood-feud
  Announcement of Covert Faculty
  Blood-feud
  Student Union,
  local 666 
  The “official” student organization has
  its headquarters in an impressive modern
  building on the Pent. Faced in white mar-
  ble, with vast internal expanses of lush
  carpeting and gleaming polished brass,
  this structure makes it quite clear where
  that $250 “Student Union fee” goes.
  Theoretically, any student is welcome to
  eat in the cafeteria or shop in the small
  stores in the mini-mall here. However, the
  Union building is the province of the stu-
  dents from COUP, SPCA and Social Anti-
  Sciences, and they make it quite clear this
  is their territory.
  
  49
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  Most students would rather die than visit the Center, which may account for
  the high percentage of resurrections performed . . .
  TTHHEE LLIIBBRRAARRYY
  “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you expensive.”
  Besides having one of the largest buildings on campus – and under it (see p.
  73) – the University Library is home to a large number of courteous and helpful
  staffthings, headed by the Librarian (see p. 63). It is also a major profit-making
  activity, both through fees charged to off-campus scholars for access to the
  restricted archives, and more importantly, fines for overdue books.
  Students and faculty may borrow books for one week by showing their ID
  cards. (Of course some books must stay in the library – for safety reasons – and
  do not circulate.) After precisely one week, zero hours and zero seconds, the alert
  library staff dispatches a COUP hit squad to collect the overdue book, the sub-
  stantial fine ($1 per hour overdue, plus the hit squad’s salary and a $20 contribu-
  tion to the Old Librarians’ Home) and possibly some assorted body parts, if the
  student or professor is a chronic offender.
  Of course, sometimes the culprit isn’t really at fault, having wandered
  through a time warp, been kidnapped by aliens for a week or the like. In such
  hardship cases, the librarians will make allowances and sympathetically waive the
  contribution to the Old Librarians’ Home. Groveling, pleading and whining to the
  Head Librarian might get a slight reduction in the fine (say $1), if the student is
  especially entertaining. (A Performance skill roll may help.)
  On occasion, students, professors or outsiders will attempt to steal books. The
  lucky ones (i.e., tuition-paying students) wake up the next morning in the Lazarus
  Health Center. Unlucky ones are often found chained to book carts in the sub-
  basements, where they’re forced to help reshelve some of the more . . . active . . .
  books. A few lucky souls with Research skill are chained to the Reference desk
  and forced to help students with inane research questions.
  The Ilumni
  Association
  “Lest auld acquaintance be forgot” –
  Ilumni fundraising motto.
  Like any university, IOU gets a lot of its
  funding by extort . . . ah, soliciting contribu-
  tions from its graduates. The alumni associ-
  ation – or, at IOU, the Ilumni Association –
  is an important part of such operations. In
  particular, the feeling of still belonging to
  the University helps pry money loose.
  Of course, some Ilumni with outstand-
  ing student loans find themselves quite liter-
  ally belonging to the University, demon-
  strating the hazards of not reading fine
  print. Even those who succeed in making
  payments are often surprised by the sudden
  jump in interest rates at graduation; the
  merely usurious rates paid while in school
  suddenly head for the upper stratosphere the
  instant the ArchDean signs that sheepskin.
  The Ilumni Association hires the very
  best tax accountants to find new loopholes
  to encourage Ilumni to give more money.
  A recent innovation is the “Give It All”
  campaign, where the Ilumnus gives his
  entire income to the Ilumni Association,
  with the result that the Ilumnus pays no
  taxes. The now-destitute Ilumnus qualifies
  for free meals, lodging and transportation
  provided by the Croesus Ilumni Center.
  Since the Center boasts a five-star chef,
  palatial residential facilities and a wide
  variety of executive limos and private jets,
  this plan has had considerable success.
  Of course, the Ilumni Association
  offers benefits to its members (this helps
  justify the fees). Members can get a low-
  interest gold card (with a rake-off from the
  credit-card company to the University),
  participate in social events like cruises to
  Europe (smuggling assistance available at
  extra cost), obtain job referrals (ensuring a
  high job-placement rate as bait for poten-
  tial freshthings) and buy overpriced
  University mementos like bumper stickers,
  T-shirts, desk sets, baseball caps and video
  tapes of their amusing antics as students.
  Besides annual contributions, Ilumni are
  encouraged to remember the University in
  their wills. (GMs should note that, unlike stu-
  dents, dead Ilumni may sometimes be more
  profitable to the University than live ones.)
  Career Planning
  Center 
  “Have we got a job for you!”
  The CPC is a service provided to stu-
  dents that helps them plan for a career,
  helps place them in jobs and even refers
  them to COUP graduates when they sub-
  sequently need legal services. The Center
  is proud of its 100% placement rate. Of
  course, with all of time and space to
  choose from, there’s always someone,
  somewhen, who can use a graduate with
  otherwise-useless skills. Galley slaves,
  anyone?
  
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  50
  The (avowed) primary purpose of the Library is to help students and faculty
  with research. To this end, the Library employs a large staff of research librarians,
  who will happily assist questioners (a normal reaction modifier of -2, but a $20
  contribution to the Old Librarians’ Home will raise this to a +1).
  Some materials are in special collections in the restricted stacks in the main
  library, or in the specialized branch libraries attached to the various schools and
  colleges. Access to these is only permitted to those professors who have at least
  the first level of The Treatment, though a substantial bribe can buy an hour or two
  of admittance for others. In such cases, the invitation into the special area is
  accompanied by a lecture on the hazards. (“You realize that you enter at your own
  risk, right? And be sure not to stay after midnight. And, whatever you do, don’t
  spill any blood on the books!”)
  For a lesser fee (“hazard pay”) students can get the research librarians to photo-
  copy a few pages from books in the restricted stacks – if the student has the neces-
  sary clearance, or a note from a professor. Even so, some books resist being photo-
  copied. This is especially true for the tomes in the branch library in the College of
  Metaphysics, though a few of the more radioactive texts in the WUSE branch
  library have been known to do odd things to the copying machines.
  Students lacking bribe money, or Intimidation skill, may be forced to use the
  convenient access to the Library’s card catalog, provided through THE computer.
  Locating relevant books requires a Research roll and at least a Neutral reaction
  roll from THE computer. People who abuse the terminals often find that every
  book they’re looking for has been checked out for the last century, and the name
  of the person holding them is restricted information. Or the books are in the
  ArchDean’s office library . . .
  SSTTUUDDEENNTT DDIISSSSEERRVVIICCEESS
  Some unfortunates in The Administration actually have to deal with live (or
  undead) students, rather than just processing their paperwork or spying on them.
  These hapless bureaucrats are usually those who’ve annoyed the ArchDean enough
  to be sentenced to a semester or two of “serving” the students. This fact may go a
  long way toward explaining their attitudes when students come to ask for a “tiny
  little favor.” The slogan “Just Say No” was invented here . . .
  Student Disservices handles two main student needs: food and housing. Food
  Services is nominally run by this organization, though in practice the bureaucrats
  are afraid of the cooks, and tend to leave them alone. This division also facilitates
  handling complaints – the cafeteria staff send complaining students to the Student
  Disservices office, while the office points complaining students at the cooking
  staff. (The ArchDean allows this, feeling that depriving the staff of all their fun
  would impact morale too much.)
  This administrative department also operates all the on-campus student hous-
  ing, as well as providing a locator service for off-campus housing (which has
  much better cash flow, since landlords usually have a lot more money for bribes
  than students). For cost reasons, most student dorm rooms are built using sound
  engineering principles – if you can’t hear people breathing next door, the walls are
  too thick. In addition, they are usually poorly ventilated, heated and cooled, and
  they’re just big enough to give an ant claustrophobia. Needless to say, the major
  expenses in the housing budget are for bribes to the city building inspector and the
  fire marshal.
  Campus Disservices has excellent accountants on staff – they are experts at
  insuring that living on-campus is marginally cheaper than off-campus. And the
  large staff of quality assurance experts ensures that on-campus living conditions
  are only marginally worse . . .
  Vehicle Pool 
  “Any accident you can walk away from
  is indistinguishable from a University
  bus.”
  Operating a university requires a wide
  variety of transport vehicles. These are
  kept in the vehicle pool, a small lake filled
  with a secret elixir supplied by the
  College of Metaphysics that preserves and
  repairs the immersed vehicles. It also
  leaves a fresh wax shine on anything
  taken from the pool. (Swimmers will  find
  the fluid is non-toxic, though the swim-
  mers will have a buffed paste-wax finish
  for several days.)
  Besides the more prosaic buses, deliv-
  ery vans, ambulances and security cars
  kept in the shallows, the murkier depths of
  the pool contain more unlikely forms of
  transport, including a 1930’s dirigible, a
  surplus Saturn V moon rocket, two F-15
  fighter jets, an L-1011 passenger plane
  and a Polaris-class nuclear submarine.
  Some students claim they’ve glimpsed
  other things at the bottom of the pool –
  everything from Space Shuttles to flying
  saucers to Ogres. The report of an entire
  nuclear aircraft carrier is undoubtedly an
  exaggeration, however.
  Student Investment
  Services
  “There’s one matriculating every
  minute . . .”
  As a service to students (riiight!), the
  University runs a discount brokerage ser-
  vice and provides investment counseling.
  This generates a small (uh-huh) profit for
  The Administration, through service fees,
  transaction fees and commissions. It also
  generates a somewhat larger cash flow
  through kickbacks from Ilumni floating
  stock and junk bond issues . . .
  SIS also brokers real estate transac-
  tions, including University-owned swa . . .
  ah, alluvially-advantaged land in Florida
  and a variety of bridges in New York.
  Recently, the University has started offer-
  ing special deals on quarter-acre lots on
  Venus, Jupiter and Saturn.
  
  51
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  STUDENT ORGANIZATIONS
  Although students are notoriously disorganized, there are some University-
  supported student organizations. (Most students will develop some organization, if
  they can get free money for it.) Funding for these groups is taken from the
  “Student Activity Fee” – $100 every semester. The University Administration
  manages to spend about $75 of that in “overhead and administrative expenses,”
  with the remaining $25 being allocated to student groups.
  Half of the budget is determined by the Student Senate (see below), with the
  remaining half set by a student vote every year. Needless to say, there’s a lot of
  activity just before voting day, and the society political machines employ many
  COUP students to “get out the vote.” (Translation: the various societies send out
  press-gangs of COUP thugs to snag passing students and make them vote – the
  right way.) So far, the ancient and honored practice of the “graveyard vote” hasn’t
  appeared – THE computer tallies the results, and it can tell a live student from a
  dead one, which is more than many professors can do . . .
  Listed here are some of the more prominent student organizations on campus.
  There are hundreds of others, ranging from groups of fanatic gamers to religious
  cults to secret societies of every stripe and purpose. Sometimes it’s hard to wander
  the campus at night without tripping over a dozen secret meetings.
  SSTTUUDDEENNTT SSEENNAATTEE
  In order to foster the illusion that the University actually cares about the opin-
  ions of the student population, and also to give budding demagogues and other
  PoliSci students an outlet for their ambitions, IOU has a “democratically-elected”
  student government. Other than providing a platform for the politically ambitious
  to strut on, the council has no real purpose beyond funnelling money to student
  organizations, nor any significant power. It does elect a non-voting student dele-
  gate to sit on the Board of Trustees. Being the student president looks good on a
  resume, though, so positions are often hotly contested.
  TTHHEE DDAAIILLYY IILLLLUUMMIINNAATTOORR
  “Freedom of the Press – we own one, and we know how to use it.”
  This is the organization that produces the campus newspaper. Despite its opti-
  mistic title, the Daily Illuminator comes out only every other day or so. Like most
  campus newspapers, it is free for anyone who happens to wander by campus, or
  an off-campus Ilumni can subscribe for a modest sum ($1 an issue, but it will be
  delivered to the Ilumni’s home). The Daily Illuminator is entirely student-run,
  with the majority of the staff being College of Communications Journalism
  majors. Administrators are drawn from the School of Conservative Arts, and
  some of the investigative reporters come from the ranks of Cinematography
  (SPCA) majors.
  The Illuminator is printed on-campus using an offset printing press and stan-
  dard recycled newspaper stock. The Daily Illuminator covers its publishing costs by
  selling advertising for local businesses and organizational events; it also charges
  reasonable rates not to print something, or run an audio-tape on the campus loud-
  speaker system. However, it is rarely very profitable, and most of the students who
  work on it are doing it for the experience and opportunity for personal gain, rather
  than as a paying job.
  TTHHEE SSTTUUDDEENNTT OOVVEERRGGRROOUUNNDD
  “Being underground was too dangerous – have you seen the steam tunnels
  lately?”
  Campus Crusade for
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. 
  “When the Servants of C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  have a fundraising phone-a-thon, it’s the
  Call of C.T.H.U.L.H.U. . . .”
  The Servants of C.T.H.U.L.H.U. are
  all C.T.H.U.L.H.U. Ilumni. They have an
  office in the Croesus Ilumni Center, and
  are one of the more aggressive organiza-
  tions dedicated to getting donations from
  every single C.T.H.U.L.H.U. major who
  ever graduated, or ever will graduate, for
  that matter. (They don’t shun money from
  other Ilumni, either – and temporal black-
  mail can be so effective.)
  Campus Crusade for
  Cthulhu 
  “Cthulhu saves – he might get hungry
  later.”
  This quasi-religious organization (not
  to be confused with the Ilumni group of a
  similar name) is dedicated to the worship
  of horrific Elder Gods on campus; their
  main belief seems to be that the nasty
  deities are showing up sometime next
  semester (maybe), and will want to eat
  everyone, so if you worship them and feed
  them other people, you’ll be the last to go.
  And while you’re at it, you might as well
  have some really strange parties before the
  Elder Gods show up.
  Democrats for
  Cthulhu 
  “He couldn’t be any worse . . .”
  This is a rather confused political fac-
  tion that is currently handing out “Cthulhu
  for President” bumper stickers. Since they
  all have the Clueless disadvantage, they’re
  quite harmless. Really.
  WIOU and KIOU 
  No campus would be complete without
  a student-run radio station playing a com-
  bination of the latest hits and anti-estab-
  lishment comedy. Illuminati University
  boasts two, both on the same frequency.
  This leads to some interesting innovations
  in radio technology.
  ROTC 
  Like any patriotic American university
  (especially those interested in free govern-
  ment money), IOU has a Reserve Officers
  Training Corp (ROTC) program. Students
  get their tuition paid by the government,
  and get to wander around campus in snap-
  py uniforms, play with heavy weapons
  and do push-ups. Most ROTC students are
  majors in WUSE’s Department of
  Military Science and Cost Overruns.
  
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  52
  The Student Overground is the “Resist Authority” group behind most counter-
  culture events on campus. They publish illicit news-flyers, organize sit-ins or
  other protest activities and try to tell “the real truth” about IOU to prospective stu-
  dents and first-semester freshthings, any way they can.
  There is surprisingly little retaliation from the upper ranks of the University’s
  Administration – probably because Overground members are paying money to
  stay, and it would be too much paperwork to expel them – but a known member
  will get a -2 reaction from most faculty and administrators. (Despite this, it is an
  open secret that the Overground is funded out of the Student Activity Fees – they
  appear on the ballot.)
  The Student Overground have a policy of non-violence and are anti-vandal-
  ism. Members will festoon cars with their flyers, but they won’t glue them on, for
  instance. They go peacefully if escorted away from an area by Campus Security,
  at most refusing to walk and grabbing furniture or scenery when dragged. They
  have been known to become involved in altercations with other students, either in
  self-defense or because a member lost his temper, but the group will send public
  apologies to the Daily Illuminator after the incident.
  Members of the Student Overground are generally typical IOUites who either
  have a grudge against The Administration (or some of the faculty, or whatever),
  or idealists who resent the exploitation of students and Ilumni. The core of the
  group are generally thought to be pure idealists who resist authority because it’s
  authority – or maybe they’re all agents of The Administration, channelling student
  frustrations in harmless directions. In a Darkly Illuminated campaign, the
  Overground is just a little too nice to be believed.
  In general, the Student Overground is a vocal nuisance. But see its “Evil
  Twin” group, the Student Liberation Organization . . .
  SSTTUUDDEENNTT LLIIBBEERRAATTIIOONN OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONN
  “Resistance is mandatory!”
  These are the students who think the Student Overground is too wimpy. This
  secret society is responsible for acts of violence and terrorism above and beyond
  usual campus life. They vandalize buildings and administrators’ vehicles or
  Society for
  Unimaginative
  Anachronism 
  “The past wasn’t quite as dull as the
  present.”
  The SUA is composed entirely of
  Mundanes, mundanes and people with the
  Mundane Background disadvantage.
  These individuals get together on week-
  ends and talk about the latest Western
  movie they watched that had American
  Indians wearing wristwatches in it.
  Sometimes they perform Shakespeare
  plays in somebody’s living room, drop-
  ping “poison” in Hamlet’s Kool-Aid, or
  discuss hypothetical football games
  between current stars and retired (or dead)
  old pros. They also study together, and
  write out first drafts longhand with foun-
  tain pens.
  Surprisingly, the SUA seems to be a
  stable organization – perhaps because
  Mundanes sense that the rest of the
  University has a different worldview from
  them, and it’s nice to relax with like-
  minded people for a change.
  Fraternities and
  Sororities
  Though not heavily into the Greek sys-
  tem (tending more towards the esoteric
  secret societies of the Persian system, the
  Egyptian system and the Mithraean sys-
  tem), IOU does have a few fraternities and
  sororities on campus. Partly, this is to pro-
  vide the Team a place to party, pillage and
  loot. It also provides a haven for the
  Mundanes who are into secret rituals,
  since the more . . . interesting ones on
  campus tend to discriminate against
  Mundanes on the logical grounds that they
  spoil all the fun.
  So while the Metaphysics students are
  practicing Succubus and Incubus
  Summoning 304, and the WUSE crowd is
  playing video games with the NSA’s com-
  puters, the less fortunate mundanes can
  party all night, holding drinking contests
  and practicing their sadism on the new
  recruits. (Sadism and Bully aren’t required
  to get into the Greek system, but they’re
  fairly common.)
  Fraternities and sororities count as
  Ally Groups for PC brothers and sisters,
  and normally have a base cost of 20 points
  – few members qualify as “formidable” at
  IOU. The exception is Alpha Omega Pi,
  which has weird tech, and costs 30 points
  to join. Members of a house at other uni-
  versities also count as part of this Ally
  Group, but will rarely affect play. Alumni
  of the house do not count into the Ally
  Group, but will have a +1 reaction to cur-
  rent members.
  Continued on next page . . .
  
  53
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  homes, sabotage research projects and try to destroy landmarks such as the Avant
  Guardsman or the statue of the Founder. They have even taken anonymous credit
  for some assassination attempts on professors. They are not funded by the
  University!
  The SLO has been known to kidnap first-semester freshthings, or any student
  attending IOU on a scholarship (on the grounds that if the University is teaching
  this person for “free,” it must be expecting to make major use of him later), and
  forge Drop forms for all that student’s classes while they try to “deprogram” him.
  They particularly like to create major incidents when prospective frosh are visit-
  ing with their parents.
  Despite intensive security sweeps and the expulsion of members (usually with
  extreme prejudice), the SLO persists – apparently the leaders of this malicious
  group have never been caught, and are perhaps even grad students or faculty!
  They certainly have enough skill that they are able to evade psionic, magical and
  high-tech detection methods, for many of the things they take credit for could not
  have been accomplished by Mundanes. One theory is that the SLO is actually a
  COUP project which discovers the truly vicious students, sucks them in and gains
  enough blackmail material on them to control them; instead of being expelled,
  “discovered” members graduate (or maybe flunk out for getting discovered).
  Another theory states that the “SLO” is just a front for whatever faction of the
  University is waging an unauthorized bloodfeud against another department this
  week.
  Whatever the Student Liberation Organization really is, everyone else thinks
  it’s a pain in the neck. Campus Security has standing orders to take SLO members
  into custody by whatever means necessary. The Student Overground denies any
  connection – with enough energy to place them out of Intermediate Hysteria 302.
  Even the ArchDean has been known to display public irritation when viewing the
  latest depredation perpetrated by the SLO.
  Members must take a -15 point Secret – exposure will get them expelled,
  resulting in a permanent -6 reaction modifier from the University’s administration
  and loyal Ilumni (a large class of people, who will always recognize an expelled
  SLO member, worth -30 points).
  Fraternities and
  Sororities 
  (continued)
  Membership in a fraternity or sorority
  often gives an automatic Reputation for
  certain attitudes. The GM will have to
  determine point costs, since these social
  modifiers are very campaign-dependent.
  Make a Reaction Roll for a PC peti-
  tioning to enter a fraternity or sorority. On
  a result of Good or better, the character is
  invited in. Most groups have specific
  requirements for membership; these are
  listed as reaction modifiers for the sample
  fraternities and sororities (see below).
  Sample Fraternities
  and Sororities 
  Sigma Epsilon Chi
  This sorority caters primarily to SPCA
  majors, and is well known as one of the
  more hedonistic groups on campus. Sisters
  have been known to prowl campus in
  hunting packs, “inviting” Attractive or
  better male students (or things!) back
  home to party. Modifiers to join: +1 per
  level of Appearance above Average, -2 for
  each level of Appearance below Average;
  +1 per level of Sex Appeal skill above 10;
  +1 per level of HT above 12.
  Beta Chi Nu
  Called the “Bitchen Bitches” by non-
  sisters, this sorority is devoted to those
  upper-class Mundanes who simply must
  belong to be anybody. Most are classic
  Valley Girl types. Many of them are
  Hysteria majors, though a few are in the
  School of Conservative Arts. On campus,
  they tend to fill the important ecological
  niche of “victim.” Usually with the
  onlooker applauding and rooting for the
  Monster of the Week . . .
  Reaction modifiers for joining: +1 or -1
  for each level of Wealth above or below
  Very Wealthy, +1 or -1 for each level of
  Appearance above or below Attractive, and
  Social Status modifiers. -1 for each 10
  character points in non-Mundane abilities,
  +1 for Mundane Background, +2 for the
  Mundanity advantage (any level).
  Delta Upsilon Delta
  Commonly known as the “DUDes” or
  “Deltoids,” this is the male counterpart to
  Beta Chi Nu. Many are Team members, or
  at least Phys. Ed. majors. Modifiers to
  join: same as Beta Chi Nu, plus: +1 (-2)
  per level of ST or HT above (below) 12;
  +1 for Phys. Ed. majors; +3 for Team
  members.
  
  UUNNIIVVEERRSSIITTYY ((DDIISS--))OORRGGAANNIIZZAATTIIOONNSS
  54
  SSPPOORRTTSS
  “Make the other team give 110% – in blood!”
  Naturally, Illuminati University is heavily into sports (and sports betting): the
  best bait for Ilumni dollars. At IOU, the sport – the one that gets Ilumni to con-
  tribute great wads of cold cash – is moopsball. (Trust us, you don’t want to know.)
  Like any sport, moopsball sounds totally inane to the non-fan; if you really want
  to know, find an Olde Ilumnus – he’ll be happy to discourse for hours on the rela-
  tive merits of the Flying Wing Shredder offense versus the Stealth Draconic
  defense, the vital (and deceased) statistics of every IOU moopsball player since
  1763 and the gall of the officials these days in wearing powered combat armor
  while on the field. Why, in the old days, officials took their chances like real men,
  or maybe real roadkill . . .
  Besides moopsball, there are other, wimpier, sports at IOU, such as water
  polo, rugby, combat football, cyborged gladiatorial battles and global thermonu-
  clear war. Since these don’t have the “draw” of moopsball, their coaches are usu-
  ally overworked and underpaid, and often looking for under-the-table sponsors for
  their better athletes.
  TThhee TTeeaamm
  The IOU moopsball team – known on campus simply as “The Team” – is
  composed of large, hulking students. Most of them are male, and they all look
  male, even if they’re female or “other.” They would make excellent barbarian
  swordsmen in primitive settings, or any other setting one cared to think of, for that
  matter. They are not known for their brilliance in classes; all of them are Jocks.
  Members of the Team live in their own extra-sturdy dorm and eat cafeteria food
  for practice. Their lives consist of barely passing academic courses, training for
  their sports of choice, harassing non-Team undergrads and partying. Sleep is
  optional.
  Members of the Team all have the Lives on Campus disadvantage, the Jock
  advantage, minimum ST and DX of 13 and minimum HT of 12. IQ is at least 4,
  and often as high as 8. They are allegedly majors in SPCA (P.E.) or SSAS
  (English). The Team normally plays football and moopsball (see sidebar), but has
  a passing knowledge of every other sport known to sentient species. (Including
  ways to cheat at all of them. The Team is not known for Honesty.) Team members
  must take the Team as an Ally Group, worth 20 points. (Since most Team mem-
  bers don’t have weird abilities or gadgets, they don’t count as “formidable” at
  IOU, despite their physical impressiveness.)
  Sample Fraternities
  and Sororities 
  (continued)
  Alpha Omega Pi
  This is an eccentric combined fraterni-
  ty/sorority catering to WUSE majors
  (“Sex? What’s sex?”). They are reclusive
  folks with a common interest in the cre-
  ation and destruction of universes, which
  they usually set up in the basement of the
  building. (They are the only Greek house
  to have its own fusion reactor.) Modifiers
  to join: +1 per level of IQ above 12; +2
  for WUSE majors; -5 for Jocks; +1 per
  level of Weird Science skill above 12.
  Basic Moopsball
  Rules 
  The actual rules for Moopsball are far
  too long and violent to reproduce here.
  They involve bicycles, Frisbee™ brand
  flying disks, and three-valued logic, as
  well as a great deal of body contact. A
  regulation game lasts at least three days,
  though much shorter exhibition matches
  are popular, and not as rough on players.
  Interestingly, although each team has a
  wizard, the wizard is limited to psycho-
  logical warfare, and may not cast any
  actual spells. The position is usually filled
  by an actor, a logician, or someone who
  paid a hefty bribe to get on the field.
  There is a version called “meepsball”
  where live meeps are used as goal-balls . . .
  Gary Cohn’s “Rules of Moopsball” can
  be found in Orbit 18, edited by Damon
  Knight.
  
  55
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  F
  etid and dripping, the ancient
  horror oozed towards the gate to
  the University, casually
  uprooting trees with its black 
  tentacles.
  
  It loomed taller than all the buildings on campus, save per-
  haps the clock tower, and looked capable of withstanding even
  WUSE’s biggest toys. Students and faculty were arrayed around
  the walls, mostly peering over them with trepidation or blatantly
  cowering (with some screaming; the Hysteria department was
  holding finals early), while the gardeners shook their heads
  morosely as they covered the shrubs to keep the slime off.
  The ArchDean herself was waiting at the gate with a bull-
  horn, tapping one booted toe in mild impatience and irritation.
  She raised the bullhorn and called out, “HOLD IT RIGHT
  THERE! OR ELSE.”
  Amazingly, the creature halted for a moment, waving tendrils in
  the air and hooting as if it had swallowed several off-key calliopes.
  “OR ELSE I’LL FLUNK YOU OUT, THAT’S WHAT. I
  DON’T CARE IF YOU ARE AN ILUMNUS.”
  It howled like a squadron of maddened jet fighters and
  surged forward a few yards. The ArchDean was unimpressed.
  “AND I SUPPOSE YOU THINK I WON’T PUBLISH
  THOSE PICTURES?” she asked sweetly. The forgotten evil
  froze and began edging backwards, furtively putting uprooted
  trees back in their holes and cooing like a psychotic dove. The
  ArchDean continued, “NOT TO MENTION THE ONES AT
  THE ILUMNI CENTER PARTY LAST YEAR.”
  The crawling horror turned, wailing into the night, and fled
  through the dimensional rift that opened in front of it.
  “Good grief,” the ArchDean muttered, lowering the bull-
  horn. “They graduate, take over one little universe, and start
  thinking they can get out of paying their Library fines.”
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  56
  PERSONALITIES
  The NPCs listed here are optional, though someone will fill
  these positions. Feel free to alter or totally replace anyone – this
  is the Illuminati University, after all, and who’s to say that the
  old Dean didn’t get . . . replaced.
  Not all the major campus personalities are detailed here, just
  enough to give the general flavor. Note that student characters
  will hear about these people, especially when being threatened
  with them as authority figures, or in campus gossip. But meeting
  them is rare – the GM may wish to have student characters make
  a Fright Check at -2 on meeting a dean (at -5 for the ArchDean),
  with a -5 modifier if the student has a guilty conscience, and an
  additional -5 modifier if the student has been summoned to the
  NPC’s office or workplace.
  At most, a student might interact with one of these people
  once a semester. Faculty, on the other hand, will see them much
  more often, usually carrying financial reports, wearing ominous
  expressions and asking pointed questions about profitability or
  extraordinary expenses.
  Three variations are given for each character, based on the
  campaign style the GM is using: Silly, Weird or Darkly
  Illuminated (see pp. 95-97).
  TTHHEE AARRCCHHDDEEAANN
  Unlike the other NPCs in this section, the ArchDean’s sta-
  tistics and skill levels are not listed. In most student-based cam-
  paigns, she won’t appear as anything but a (somewhat capri-
  cious) elemental force that is only seen from a distance. Maybe
  a student will see her once a year – and it will be a decidedly
  nerve-wracking experience.
  The leader of the University should be a larger-than-life fig-
  ure of awe and mystery, often referred to (with a furtive glance
  over one shoulder) and feared, but rarely seen. Through magic,
  tech or Methods Students Were Not Meant To Know, she is
  always well-informed as to the goings-on outside her office in the
  Clock Tower, which she rarely leaves. Students should always
  dread talking to the ArchDean, for while she may let them off rel-
  atively easy on one thing, the other shoe could drop at any time.
  The advantages that she is known to have will vary some-
  what from version to version. All are Very Beautiful, have
  Voice and unreasonable levels of Charisma, Alertness and
  Wealth. Being the ArchDean, she has her immediate underlings
  (e.g., all the deans in the various schools) as an Ally Group –
  probably an unwilling one. GMs should assume that the
  ArchDean has Magery 3 or better (she has been observed to cast
  minor spells) and some unknown set of psionic abilities. Her
  personal protections are something beyond the third level of The
  Treatment. If the GM feels a need to justify something improba-
  ble favoring the ArchDean, well, she has Luck, and lots of it.
  Disadvantages are only hinted at. She declares first semes-
  ter freshthings to be Off Limits, and enforces this. She also
  keeps lots of cats, and doesn’t tolerate attempts to torment them.
  She sometimes acts absent-minded, which probably doesn’t
  mean anything, and anyone who’s in charge of this University
  may very well be a Weirdness Magnet.
  The ArchDean has a lot of obvious quirks, including her
  liking for cats, her style of dress and the fact that she doesn’t
  ever tell anyone her name. She’s simply “the ArchDean,” “Her
  ArchDeanshipness,” “Ma’am,” or whatever sincerely respectful
  honorific the person she’s talking to is inclined to use.
  (“ArchSchnookums” is not a good choice, for instance.) The
  weird thing about this is that no one seems to notice she doesn’t
  have a name!
  Her skill levels are generally stratospheric, and she’s got a
  lot of skills. Administration, Merchant, Leadership and Sex
  Appeal are obvious ones.
  
  The ArchDean can serve as the ultimate deus ex machina in
  the campaign; if the PCs have totally flubbed it, and the planet-
  buster bomb is going to destroy Earth in the next five seconds,
  well, the PCs see this really bright light, coming from behind
  them . . . and they wake up in the Lazarus Health Center the
  next morning. They’re each minus a few dozen character points,
  too – players should fear having the ArchDean intervene!
  Typical dialogue: “So, you’re the person who just cost me –
  ah, the University – over $50,000, and drove my stock values
  down. I do hope you can find some way to correct this little
  error.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  The personality of the ArchDean will have a definite effect
  on the atmosphere of an IOU campaign. GM-designed
  ArchDeans should have the two important characteristics of being
  far too formidable to be worth challenging and being willing to
  give characters a lot of slack. This provides an “Ultimate NPC” to
  keep the PCs in line while not hampering their day-to-day may-
  hem very much, which can be important to the stability of a cam-
  paign; characters can become very powerful, especially in a Silly
  campaign, and having a PC take over the position of ArchDean
  will seriously alter the flavor of the game. (The Silly ArchDean,
  for instance, is designed to discourage University take-over
  attempts by being supernatural – and quasi-divine/demonic – as
  well as possessing a reaction modifier of 15 and up.)
  Silly: According to her autobiography (required reading for
  every student!), the Most Important Personage (pronounced
  “mip,” not “meep”) at IOU is a double-defector from the sides
  of Light and Darkness who went freelance (on the side of prof-
  it), operating a floating House of Ill-Repute and doing a brisk
  trade in photographic negatives on the side. Her position as
  ArchDean came when her dwelling and place of business was
  mysteriously teleported to a position above the former Main
  Building of the University. The old Main Building can still be
  found by intrepid spelunkers . . .
  The ArchDean herself stands about five-foot seven – nearly six
  feet in her high-heeled boots. (Her weight is unknown, since she’s
  wandered over pressure-sensors without setting them off . . .) She
  also wears a white leather mini-dress, a belt with the University
  Seal as a buckle and long opera gloves for formal occasions (like
  faculty parties). When she quit her first job, she managed to keep
  her large white wings and halo, though the halo is always crooked-
  ly hooked around one of the small horns above her forehead . . .
  This version is outwardly greedy and callous, but often finds
  sound financial excuses to let students off lightly for their inad-
  vertent misdeeds. Miscreant characters will feel that they owe
  her a favor for letting them survive intact, but she rarely calls
  those in – unless a character stops worrying about being drafted
  for something dangerous, at which point Guido will appear, point
  a finger at the PC and say “The ArchDean wants you!”
  Weird: While the ArchDean still shows a fondness for
  white leather outfits, her appearance does not include the wings,
  horns or halo – though the GM can drop hints that she may be
  more than mortal with the occasional shadow of an invisible
  wing on a wall, or a glimpse of a tiny horn. Her connections are
  likewise nebulous, leading more to powerful organizations than
  to old friends in metaphysical places. Rumors abound that she
  was a former madam who took over the University with the help
  of her, ah, staff of Bimbiras (see p. 87).
  She still has ambiguous abilities. For instance, a student
  waiting for her to come down from her Clock Tower office may
  see her casually walk past him on her way to the elevator he’s
  been watching so intently.
  This version acts like a hard-nosed business-woman with a
  fixation on the Bottom Line of financial statements, but still has
  a soft spot for non-malicious students – again, they’ll be waiting
  for the other shoe to drop, but that won’t happen often.
  Darkly Illuminated: The ArchDean still wears eccentric
  clothing, but it is doubtful that the white outfits signify any
  affiliation with the Higher Powers. GMs may still want to let
  PCs catch sight of a wing’s shadow, but whether the wing is
  feathered or leathery will be unclear. Her former connections
  are mysterious and fearsome, probably involving secret cults of
  hidden gods and organized crime. Her attractive but shallow-
  minded secretary corps may harbor darker secrets than their
  pleasant smiles suggest, and attentive characters should note
  that those secretaries often vanish, to be replaced by similarly
  bland personages. Her knack for impossible feats (such as walk-
  ing down a dark corridor when everyone thought she was in a
  board meeting) becomes less commonly seen, and much less
  innocuous.
  This version is, on the surface, more sympathetic and altruis-
  tic than she really is. The University is, perhaps, only a step in
  ruling the world – or universe. With the other versions, students
  should merely worry about what her “favor” might cost later;
  with the Darkly Illuminated ArchDean, they should know that she
  always collects what she’s owed . . . and she charges interest.
  DDRR.. WWHHAATT
  77:: DDEEAANN OOFF CC..TT..HH..UU..LL..HH..UU..
  ST 10, DX 14, IQ 16, HT 13.
  Advantages: Eidetic Memory (1 level), Extraordinary Luck,
  The Treatment III, Tenure, Charisma +1, Academic Status +6
  (dean), Social Status +1, Wealthy, Ally Group (department
  heads, unwilling, 300-point characters, medium group, appears
  quite often, 180 points), Chronolocation (advanced form of
  Absolute Timing, see p. TT29), Unusual Background (from TL9
  time-traveling culture, 50 points).
  Disadvantages: Absent-Mindedness, Duty (to University, -
  5 points: quite often, but not hazardous), Enemies (ambitious
  underlings, medium group, fairly often, -20 points), Evil Twin
  (himself – though Evil Septuplets would be more accurate,
  appears fairly often, -10 points), Sense of Duty (to timestream,
  -10 points).
  Quirks: Insists on the periods in C.T.H.U.L.H.U.; Has a
  weakness for beautiful females; Always wears a silly scarf;
  Usually has a pocket tool kit on him; Argues with himself a lot.
  57
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  
  Skills: Acting-20, Administration-16, Anthropology-19,
  Archaeology-20, Area Knowledge (IOU)-18, Area Knowledge
  (timestream)-22, Computer Operation/TL9-16, Computer
  Programming/TL9-16, Demolition/TL9-15, Detect Lies-18,
  Diplomacy-17, Electronics Operation (Communications and
  Computers)/TL9-17, Fast-Talk-17, Fencing-14, Gambling-15,
  History-22, Holdout-16, Language (All useful ones)-17, Leadership-
  16, Literature-17, Mechanic (TL9 Aircar, TL7 Automobile and TL9
  Small Gadgets)-16, Naturalist-20, Nuclear Physics/TL9-15,
  Physics/TL9-16, Politics-15, Research-16, Savoir-Faire-16,
  Scrounging-17, Stealth-14, Survival (IOU)-17, Tactics-14, Teaching-
  15, Temporal Electronics/TL9-20, Temporal Operation/TL9-20,
  Temporal Physics/TL9-20, Traps/TL8-15, Writing-15. Appropriate
  Weapon, Thief/Spy and transport-related skills for the tech level at
  14-17. (The Doctor is just as comfortable with aircars, sonic probes
  and stunners as he is with horses, lockpicks and sabers.)
  One of the more pleasant, if more eccentric deans, Dr. What7
  is devoted to wandering the timestream, Doing Good.
  Unfortunately, that means he’s out of the office a lot, and some-
  times comes into class hurriedly, wearing anachronistic clothing –
  usually including a 17-foot scarf. There are seven distinct ver-
  sions of the good doctor, from different parts of the timestream.
  They are all sufficiently alike to qualify as Evil Twins of each
  other, and it’s often hard to tell if the Dr. What you’re talking to
  has merely absent-mindedly forgotten your discussion last week,
  or if he’s a different version entirely. (Access to the future has
  drastically lengthened his life, and he has trouble remembering
  conversations from a century or two ago . . .) All seven versions
  are decidedly average in appearance, if not dress.
  While he’s reluctant to introduce anachronistic gadgets into
  the local culture (wherever he happens to be, including IOU),
  Doctor What7 isn’t reluctant in the slightest to use them himself.
  (His office, the “Public TOILET,” is a pocket dimension, for
  instance; see p. 74.) This access to ultra-tech gadgetry places
  him in the very unusual position of needing an Unusual
  Background in an IOU campaign.
  Typical dialogue: “Did you know that sabertooth tigers
  lasted until much later than normally thought? Take the one
  behind you, for example – it’s an excellent specimen, though it
  seems a trifle underfed.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: The Good Doctor is usually very hurried and distract-
  ed, and often resumes conversations from two months ago – or
  two months from now.
  Weird: Similar to the Silly version, but more coherent; the
  Public TOILET becomes a small garden shed, surrounded by a
  barbed-wire fence.
  Darkly Illuminated: There’s only one Doctor What around
  (though people might meet earlier or later versions of him on
  occasion). He’s probably a member of an Illuminati conspiracy
  from the future, and is either watching or guarding IOU, or
  maybe trying to suppress temporal meddling. Other than his
  own, of course.
  CCLLAARRKK MM.. WWAALLTTEERRSS:: WWUUSSEE DDEEAANN
  ST 9, DX 11, IQ 18, HT 10.
  Advantages: Eidetic Memory (2 levels), Mathematical
  Ability, Lightning Calculator, Luck, The Treatment III, Tenure,
  Attractive, Academic Status +6 (dean), Social Status +1, Very
  Wealthy, Ally (THE computer, almost all the time, 75 points),
  Ally Group (department heads, unwilling, 300-point characters,
  medium group, appears quite often, 180 points), Quick
  Gadgeteer.
  Disadvantages: Absent-Mindedness, Compulsive Behavior
  (Reading UseNet News), Bad Sight (nearsighted), Duty (to
  University, -5 points: quite often, but not hazardous – to him!),
  Compulsive Behavior: Tinkering with gadgets (-5 points), Code
  of Honor (scientist), Enemies (ambitious underlings, medium
  group, fairly often, -20 points).
  Quirks: Always dresses in a sloppy labcoat; Gadget freak;
  Everything he owns is computer-controlled; Speaks techno-
  babble all the time; Never wears a tie.
  Skills: Administration-18, Area Knowledge (IOU)-19,
  Astronomy/TL8-17, Beam Weapons/TL8-12, Chemistry/TL8-17,
  Computer Operation/TL8-24, Computer Programming/TL8-25,
  Cryptanalysis-24, Demolition/TL8-18, Detect Lies-17,
  Diplomacy-17, Driving (Car)-13, Electronics (Computers)/TL8-
  20, Electronics (everything else)/TL8-17, Engineer (Robot-
  ics)/TL8-17, Exoskeleton-12, Fast-Talk-18, Lockpick-ing/TL7-
  18, Mathematics-22, Merchant-18, Nuclear Physics/TL8-16,
  Physics/TL8-17, Piloting (Aircar)/TL8-14, Research-18,
  Scrounging-19, Survival (IOU)-18, Teaching-18, Temporal
  Physics/TL8-16, Traps/TL8-18, Weird Science-17, Writing-18.
  The dean of WUSE is responsible for maintaining THE
  computer system and keeping the explosions down to a mini-
  mum – buying all those prefab buildings gets a little hard on the
  budget. WUSE, unlike many other colleges, has promotion by
  technical competence: if you can get THE computer to give you
  the dean’s salary, the dean’s office and the title of dean, you
  must be the dean.
  Basically, the faculty in the college of Weird and Unnatural
  Sciences and Engineering – including the dean – don’t much
  care who’s running the show, so long as they can play with their
  expensive toys. They do have the attitude that a teacher’s lab is
  his fortress, though, which some students dub a symptom of
  “Apathetic Anarchy.”
  At age 45, Clark is one of the younger deans at IOU. He’s
  tall, thin and enthusiastic about exotic esoterica that generally
  goes right over the heads of his bewildered audience at faculty
  parties. (Most of the reason that he is invited to faculty parties –
  and is actually quite a popular guest – is his invention of several
  advanced distillation devices.) A founder of the “nerdpunk”
  movement, he wanders about in a stained and charred white
  leather lab coat decorated with metal chains and studs. The coat
  also has lots of pockets, containing uncountable gizmos, thingam-
  abobs, whatchamacallits and a black leather pocket-protector with
  a dozen five-color pens.
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  58
  
  He is, of course, less harmless than he looks, and is perfect-
  ly capable of getting into absent-minded faculty bloodfeuds. He
  will also involve himself in other altercations that seem to be
  damaging the computer hardware or software on campus, engi-
  neering defensive systems that make COUP drool. Fortunately
  for the stability – such as it is – of the University’s political
  structure, Dr. Walters has absolutely no desire for further rank.
  The pay may be better, but there’s too much paperwork, and not
  enough time to do all these neat projects. More funding is
  always useful, of course.
  Typical dialogue: “Uh, where was I? Oh, yes – I wouldn’t
  push that button if I were . . . oh, dear.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: This absent-minded and innocent denizen of a virtual
  ivory tower (actually a climate-controlled basement in a WUSE
  building bunker) is one of the least feared deans on campus. He
  tends to forget that he was supposed to be reprimanding miscre-
  ants, and will co-opt them to help with his latest project instead.
  Unfortunately, he is also likely to remember what they did, in
  great gory detail, at some other time, and arrange a suitable chas-
  tisement. On the whole, he is quite popular with the students and
  faculty of WUSE – probably because he happens to be brilliant,
  and WUSE people respect that. They also respect the fact that
  THE computer will jump through hoops for him, and they know
  who writes out their paychecks and class schedules.
  Weird: Since the Silly dean of WUSE is so understated,
  compared to other Silly deans, there’s not much change in his
  manner. Mainly, he’ll be a little more restrained in his projects,
  and a little less oblivious to the rest of the world. The Weird
  dean is known to possess an occasional sense of humor.
  Darkly Illuminated: The Darkly Illuminated Clark Walters
  is only absent-minded in the small things – for instance, he never
  forgets to carry at least one small, nasty and easily over-looked
  weapon. While he does not look like a wild-eyed lunatic, those
  who hang around him for very long will soon get the feeling that
  his sanity is only skin-deep. He’s not a mad scientist, though –
  he’s a psychopathic one. Unlike the other versions, this Dr.
  Walters is quite covetous of the position of ArchDean; however,
  he’s easily distracted from this goal – offer enough funding for
  some pet project, and nominal power becomes less interesting.
  Power from behind the scenes is easier to get, anyway.
  DDEEAANN OOFF MMEETTAAPPHHYYSSIICCSS
  ((NNAAMMEE WWIITTHHHHEELLDD BBYY RREEQQUUEESSTT))
  ST 12, DX 13, IQ 16, HT 13.
  Advantages: The Treatment III, Tenure, Academic Status
  +6 (dean), Social Status +1, Ally Group (department heads,
  unwilling, 300-point characters, medium group, appears fairly
  often, 90 points), Charisma +4, Filthy Rich, Magical Aptitude 3,
  Unaging, Winged Flight (p. SU40).
  Disadvantages: Duty (to University, -10 points: quite often,
  can be hazardous), Enemies (higher powers and church groups, -60
  points), Hideous Appearance, Lecherousness, Overconfidence.
  Quirks: Asks people to call him “Fred”; Stares hungrily at
  people to freak them out; Wears Hawaiian shirts; Equips his office
  in Danish Modern; Hates arguing religion.
  Skills: Acting-20, Administration-15, Anthropology-14,
  Area Knowledge (IOU)-18, Area Knowledge (Hell)-19,
  Brawling-13, Broadsword-13, Carousing-14, Computer
  Operation/TL7-15, Detect Lies-18, Diplomacy-15, Fast Draw
  (Sword)-13, Fast-Talk-17, Flight-14, Gambling-15, History-15,
  Hypnotism-14, Intimidation-18, Law (specializing in contracts)-
  21, Leadership-18, Occultism-20, Psychology-17, Research-15,
  Savoir-Faire-18, Survival (IOU)-18, Teaching-15, Theology-16,
  Language: Latin-16, Language: English-15.
  Spells: too many to detail here – assume he has all Fire,
  Necromantic, Illusion & Creation and Mind Control spells at a
  skill level of 17 (or better), and a smattering from several other
  spell colleges.
  This dean is clearly non-human. In fact, the dean is a demon.
  After all, who else is more qualified in the intricacies of meta-
  physics? Campus rumors state that half of the Metaphysics facul-
  ty have made . . . deals . . . to get their magical powers. Maybe the
  dean is just taking good care of someone’s investment.
  Being a demon, the dean doesn’t like having his name
  bandied about; students, staff and lesser faculty generally refer
  to him either as “You Know Who” or “that dean,” when talking
  about him, and call him “dean” or “sir,” when talking to him.
  Very senior faculty, the other deans and the ArchDean call him
  “Fred.” (The ArchDean is often seen to wink when using this
  pseudonym – maybe it really is his name.)
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: An old friend of the family (the ArchDean’s), the
  Silly variant is really a nice guy under that gargoyle-like exteri-
  or. He’s probably the second most friendly dean on campus, as
  far as the students are concerned (after the WUSE dean). He
  spends most of his time chasing his Bimbira secretary around
  the office, doing bad Groucho Marx impressions.
  Weird: The Weird dean is a more enigmatic figure – he may be
  after souls, but if so, he’s not obvious about it. He’s usually fairly
  helpful, unless people start waving crosses and holy water around.
  Darkly Illuminated: This version looks like a very ugly
  human, having no obvious wings or horns. He also dresses
  much more conservatively. He may just be keeping an eye on
  the ArchDean, or he may be after her job – or her soul. (He’s
  certainly after everybody else’s!)
  TTHHEE UUNNSSEEEENN DDEEAANN
  ST 10, DX 18, IQ 16, HT 12.
  (Attributes vary; high IQ and DX are useful, as is above-
  average HT.)
  Advantages: The Treatment III, Tenure, Status 6, Ally
  Group (department heads, unwilling, 300-point characters,
  59
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  
  medium group, appears quite rarely – they aren’t very coopera-
  tive, 45 points). Others as appropriate.
  Disadvantages: Duty (to University, -10 points: quite often,
  can be hazardous), Enemies (ambitious underlings, medium
  group, quite often, -40 points). Others as appropriate.
  Quirks: (Vary by individual.)
  Skills: (Vary; expertise in many Thief/Spy skills is highly
  recommended.)
  The dean of the College of Obscure and Unhealthy
  Professions is always referred to as “The Unseen Dean,” though
  the position has been known to change. The ArchDean would
  prefer a more stable administration of that important college, but
  she makes do by appointing all “TempDeans” herself, thus
  insuring that they owe her favors.
  There are several basic types of Unseen Dean – nervous
  and jumpy, matter-of-fact cautious, weapons-happy, sinister and
  “harmlessly” jovial. However, all of them make the top ten list
  of “Deans Students Don’t Want To Meet;” the COUP dean is
  scary, whether he (or she) is targeting through, around or direct-
  ly at students.
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: This variant is usually sinister, nervous or weapons-
  happy, and generally possesses a sense of humor. While one
  might think the Unseen Dean would aspire to the position of
  ArchDean, there is surprisingly little friction there. Part of this
  may stem from the ArchDean’s casual attitude towards the
  mechanics that give her the bottom-line profit, and COUP is a
  profitable college. It’s easier to chum around with the ArchDean
  and get favors than it would be to try for her place. Besides, the
  ArchDean always has blackmail materials on all Unseen Deans,
  and is pretty hard to get a handle on herself . . . Better to stick to
  getting holds on the other deans.
  Weird: The Weird version is sinisterly calm or just cau-
  tious, with a subtly sadistic funnybone and a preference for dis-
  cretion. This Unseen Dean is more likely to be maneuvering for
  the position of ArchDean, though only through the most delicate
  ways. His plans will be long-term, taking years to complete, and
  have no malice whatsoever in them; it’s merely a game. Though
  outwardly oblivious to this game, the Weird ArchDean plays
  just as enthusiastically, and often twice as subtly – should she
  admit to even being aware of the Unseen Dean’s plots, it would
  be a major event in their political dance.
  Darkly Illuminated: Here the likely types are split into the
  sinister assassin look, and a small, jovial and harmless appear-
  ance, but no student wants a taste of his sense of humor! The
  Darkly Illuminated Unseen Dean is no friend of the Dark
  ArchDean, and will work to usurp her position as soon as he
  can. When he does her bidding, it is only because it’s to his
  advantage – though this “advantage” may just be ensuring that
  the ArchDean will not tighten her secret hold (of blackmail,
  compulsion spells or other unpleasant means) on him. Some
  Unseen Deans, knowing that they hold their position (and life)
  by the whim of their superior, become boot-licking sycophants,
  desperate to prove that they have no desire for a promotion –
  perhaps even honestly, knowing that higher status just puts big-
  ger targets on their backs.
  WWIILLLLIIAAMM WWAALLDDOONN:: CCHHAAIIRRTTHHIINNGG,, MMAARRKKEETTIINNGG
  DDEEPPAARRTTMMEENNTT ((SSCCAA))
  ST 9, DX 10,
  IQ 14, HT 10.
  Advantages:
  Multimillionaire,
  Lightning Calc-
  ulator, Voice,
  Charisma +2,
  Academic Status
  +5 (chairthing),
  Social Status +2,
  The Treatment II,
  Tenure, Ally
  Group (professors,
  unwilling, 300-
  point characters, medium group, appears quite often, 180
  points).
  Disadvantages: Enemies (various alien races, very rarely,
  -30 points), Greed, No Sense of Humor, Compulsive Behavior
  (selling things), Duty (to University, -5 points: quite often, not
  usually hazardous), Enemies (ambitious underlings, medium
  group, fairly often, -20 points).
  Quirks: Likes to play poker; Selling things is what makes
  the world go ’round; Dresses really conservatively.
  Skills: Accounting-22, Acting-22, Administration-21, Area
  Knowledge (IOU)-17, Detect Lies-17, Diplomacy-16, Economics-
  20, Fast-Talk-21, Gambling-19, Mathematics-16, Merchant-23,
  Psychology-18, Savoir-Faire-18, Survival (IOU)-19.
  William Waldon, now chairthing of the Marketing
  Department in the School of Conservative Arts, is a former used
  planet salesthing – having first acquired said planets by repos-
  sessing them from bankrupt alien races whose civilizations he’d
  financed with junk bonds. His career change might have some-
  thing to do with the fact that several of the dispossessed races are
  now very militaristic . . .
  “Wild Bill,” so named for the very non-conformist gray
  flannel suits he wears, is the most formidable poker player on
  campus – after the ArchDean, of course. He also is a dangerous
  character to encounter, since almost no one walks away without
  buying something from him. The fact that whatever he’s selling
  is of no value whatsoever generally doesn’t help people’s sales
  resistance. He won’t steal the clothes off your back, but he’ll be
  perfectly happy to sell them to you. (Lack of clear title to an
  item has never stopped Bill from selling it.)
  Typical dialogue: “Here, let me just show you something . . .
  you’re gonna love it!”
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  60
  
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As above, except Bill never goes outside except in a
  disguise of some sort – he’s convinced that the aliens are con-
  stantly looking down from orbit. He may be right . . .
  Weird: As written, but add the Paranoia disadvantage.
  Darkly Illuminated: Rather than aliens, Bill’s former vic-
  tims . . . ah, clients, are several major Third World governments,
  who tend to demonstrate their displeasure with high explosives
  and anti-tank weapons. This leads to a serious case of the
  Paranoia disadvantage. Bill is also a close associate of the
  Gnomes of Zurich.
  PPRROOFFEESSSSOORR LLIILLLLYY AANNNN BBIIEE,, IINNFFOORRMMAATTIIOONN
  MMAANNAAGGEEMMEENNTT ((CCOOCC))
  ST 10, DX 11, IQ 16, HT 11.
  Advantages: Eidetic Memory (2 levels), Intuition, Ally
  Group (students, unwilling, fairly often, 9-), Language Talent
  +5, Academic Status +3 (Tenured Professor), Social Status +1,
  Tenured, Wealthy, Appearance: Attractive.
  Disadvantages: Curious, Duty (to IOU, -10), Odious
  Personal Habit (Interjects esoteric trivia into any conversation,
  -5), Truthfulness, Enemies (ambitious underlings, medium
  group, fairly often, -20 points).
  Quirks: Prides herself on knowing a little about everything;
  Dislikes having her department referred to by its acronym, DIM;
  Chocoholic; Keeps a cockroach hand puppet on her desk,
  Knows the best restaurants, everywhere.
  Skills: Administration-21, Anthropology-18, Archaeology-
  18, Architecture/TL7-17, Area Knowledge (IOU)-22, Area
  Knowledge (Earth)-18, Astronomy/TL7-16, Biochemistry/TL7-
  16, 
  Botany/TL7-18, 
  Chemistry/TL7-18, 
  Computer
  Operation/TL7-18, 
  Computer 
  Programming/TL7-16,
  Criminology/TL7-17, Cryptanalysis-16, Detect Lies-22, Driving
  (Car)-12, 
  Ecology/TL7-19, 
  Electronics 
  Operations
  (Communications)/TL7-17, 
  Electronics 
  Operations
  (Computers)/TL7-17, Electronics (Communications)/TL7-16,
  Electronics 
  (Computers)/TL7-16, 
  Forensics/TL7-16,
  Genetics/TL7-15, Geology/TL7-16, Heraldry-17, History-26,
  Intelligence Analysis-16, Law-18, Linguistics-23, Literature-22,
  Mathematics-16, Meteor-ology/TL7-17, Naturalist-20, Nuclear
  Physics/TL7-15, Occultism-21, Psychology-20, Research-35,
  Science!-14, Sign Language-19, Strategy (Land)-15, Survival
  (IOU)-23, Teaching-31, Weird Science-16, Writing-17,
  Zoology-18.
  Languages: English-23, French-23, German-23, Greek-23,
  Japanese-23, Latin-23,  Russian-23, Egyptian Hieroglyphics-22,
  any other two Mental/Average languages at 23.
  Lilly Ann is one of the best researchers in the College of
  Communications, if not the entire universe, and an expert in
  more areas than anyone else wants to know about. She would
  rise further, except she has no sense of diplomacy – she tends to
  say what she thinks, even when a white lie would be more appro-
  priate. Her students find this trait quite entertaining, though they
  often grumble when her lectures about common library sorting
  systems becomes a discussion on the habits of carnivorous
  dinosaurs and how that relates to the keeping of tropical fish in
  modern office buildings. Not that her classes aren’t interesting
  when that happens, but she rarely tests on that material.
  Dr. Bie is a little on the short side at five-foot-three (and a
  half!), and does not discuss her weight beyond occasional
  bemoaning that she’ll have to jog off a chocolate sundae she’s
  about to put out of its misery.
  Typical dialog: “As you can see, the mother-goddess and
  phallic symbols inherent in the ingredients clearly point to a
  Goddess-worshipping society which understood the biochemical
  effects of chocolate sauce on the brain. The whipped cream was
  added during the Victorian years, just as they added skirts to
  hide piano legs, but the erotic connotations were reinstated with
  the addition of the cherry on top.” (pause) “Hey! I ordered mint
  chocolate on this banana split!”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: Add Absent-Mindedness – she often doesn’t notice
  when people run off when she starts one of her little digressions.
  Weird: As above.
  Darkly Illuminated: Dr. Bie seems to know everything about
  everyone – sort of a Darkly Illuminated Mom.
  PPRROOFFEESSSSOORR PPAATTRRIICCIIAA MMIILLLLEERR:: SSPPCCAA MMUUSSIICC
  TTEEAACCHHEERR AANNDD RROOCCKK SSTTAARR
  ST 10, DX 12, IQ 11, HT 10.
  Advantages: Academic Status +2 (Untenured Professor),
  Social Status +3, Filthy Rich, Appearance: Very Beautiful,
  Charisma +3, Extraordinary Luck, Musical Ability +5, Voice,
  Reputation +4 (rock star; to fans, a large group, all the time),
  Ally Group (students, unwilling, fairly often, 9-)
  Disadvantages: Albinism, Enemy (Untenured Professors,
  very rarely, 6-), Stubbornness, Severe Delusion (All plants are
  intelligent beings), Duty (to the University, quite often, fre-
  quently hazardous).
  61
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  
  Quirks: Wears her stage costumes around campus; Doesn’t
  like jocks; Throws really wild parties; Won’t eat vegetables;
  Flirtatious.
  Skills: Acting-15, Area Knowledge (IOU)-15, Bard-19,
  Botany/TL7-12, Brawling-13, Carousing-14, Computer
  Operation/TL7-13, Dancing-15, Detect Lies-14, Diplomacy-14,
  Driving (Car)-14, Electronics Operation (Musical)/TL7-11,
  Electronics Operation (Security Systems)/TL7-12, Fast-Talk-16, Law-
  10, Merchant-11, Mind Block-14, Motorcycle (Med-ium/Heavy)-15,
  Musical Instrument (Drums)-16, Musical Instrument (Electric
  Guitar)-20, Musical Instrument (Keyboard)-18, Performance-16,
  Poetry-16, Research-11, Savoir-Faire-17, Sex Appeal-16, Singing-21,
  Streetwise-13, Survival (IOU)-17, Teaching-12.
  Dr. Patricia Miller is an attractive female rock star who’s
  still on the way up – she’s not quite a household name yet.
  When she’s not on tour, Dr. Miller is a minor professor (also on
  the way up; though she doesn’t have Tenure) in the School of
  Creative and Performing Arts. She teaches music, voice and
  Musician Appreciation 123 – the art of wrapping people around
  one’s little finger. As an example of that last, she holds many of
  her classes in the Botany building, to the bemusement of the
  Botany Department’s chairthing. (Patricia says that the plants in
  the Botany lab appreciate her music, so why shouldn’t she teach
  classes where they can hear?)
  Since her classes are usually sold out, ah, full, other depart-
  ments and schools would love to convince her to work for them.
  SPCA and the Music Department keep her by being very under-
  standing about her occasional world tours, and by being sure to
  introduce her to nice young saplings from time to time.
  Some folks would think her a little crazy – maybe it’s the
  way she dresses, or maybe they just don’t like “reputable” facul-
  ty who hold conversations with plants. Of course, most people
  like Patricia. In fact, they really like her – sometimes the force
  of her presence even makes them (usually the male ones) swoon
  at her feet. Heck, even deans have been known to be a little
  stunned – deans who have taken The Treatment!
  Despite her pasty-white skin, white hair and pink eyes,
  she’s extremely attractive (of course, that sort of appearance
  isn’t a problem in the musical superstar business, anyway), and
  she dresses to impress . . . Ms. Miller is in her mid-twenties,
  five and a half feet tall and 130 pounds. Besides her teaching
  duties and musical career, she is also a charter member of the
  Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Plants.
  Typical dialogue: “Yes, that Pat Miller. You can stop
  drooling now.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Ms. Miller is about the same in all versions. The Silly
  Patricia has practically turned her condominium into a green-
  house, and complains that her “housemates” don’t pay rent; she
  understands that they don’t have many job opportunities, though.
  The Dark version will be more cynical (raise Streetwise to 16,
  and add On The Edge, p. B241), and may be addicted to some-
  thing nasty – just so long as no plants were killed to make it. The
  black leather, chains, and knives look more, ah, functional, too.
  TTHHEE CCOOMMPPUUTTEERR
  IQ 17 (other attributes inapplicable)
  Advantages: Eidetic Memory (2 levels), Lightning Calcula-
  tor, Doesn’t Sleep, and any other similar advantages the GM
  wishes.
  Disadvantages: no obvious ones, though it probably quali-
  fies for Social Stigma: Valuable Property. It may have a differ-
  ent opinion about this . . .
  Skills: most mental skills (excluding spells and psi powers)
  at levels of 16 to 20.
  Further information on THE computer can be found on p.
  84. If the GM wants more detail, THE computer can be
  designed using the rules in GURPS Robots.
  GGEEOORRGGEE TTHHEE JJAANNIITTOORR
  ST 14, DX 11, IQ 13, HT 14.
  Advantages: Unaging, ESP Power 10, The Treatment III,
  Alertness +5, Unfazeable.
  Disadvantages: Greed, Unattractive Appearance.
  Quirks: Likes to watch students; Always carries a broom
  and dustpan; Never leaves campus; Calls bribes “contributions
  to the Janitorial Retirement Fund.”
  Skills: Professional Skill (Janitor)-18, Mechanic (heating/air
  conditioning)/TL7-17, Mechanic (Small gadgets)/TL7-15,
  Lockpicking/TL7-21, Precognition-22, Survival (IOU)-24, Area
  Knowledge (IOU)-25.
  A somewhat mysterious figure, George (no one knows his
  last name – it was apparently forgotten somewhere in the mists
  of antiquity) is the chief janitor for the University. In fact, he
  seems to be the only janitor for the entire campus! There are the
  occasional part-time assistants who show up, but any time
  there’s something to be cleaned up, George is there with the
  tools to do it. Furthermore, any time students are where they
  shouldn’t be, George is also there, and he’ll have helpful tools,
  if someone is generous and contributes to the Janitorial
  Retirement Fund.
  From anecdotal evidence, George teleports to wherever he’s
  needed (or wherever students are trying to do something covert-
  ly), somehow knows in advance where he’ll be needed or there
  are several dozen “Georges” who share one consciousness. It is
  strange that nobody knows where he lives, and he’s never been
  seen off-campus, not even to buy food. Some students even
  claim to have seen George entering or leaving the steam tunnels!
  George is a tall, thin man with graying hair. He typically
  wears a gray jumpsuit with his name stitched on one pocket, and
  often has a pushcart or toolbox with him. He’s also very laconic –
  a few words are to him what entire decologies are to English pro-
  fessors. Despite his occasional references to the Janitorial
  Retirement Fund, he shows no signs of ever retiring. He’s been at
  IOU practically forever (or at least for as long as any faculty, staff
  or Ilumni can remember), and it’s generally expected that he’ll be
  cleaning up after the latest havoc until the universe collapses into
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  62
  
  a point-mass again – and at that point, he’ll sweep up the
  remains and turn off the lights.
  Typical dialogue: “Need some help there? Think I got the
  key somewhere . . . Oh, thank you. Yep, here it is.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  George is a figure of mystery and power second only to the
  ArchDean. No one really knows what he can or cannot do – the
  description given above is only the least powerful explanation for
  what he’s been observed to do. He may actually be an ancient
  golem, an alien creature with a hive mind or a retired god.
  Silly: George probably is an alien or a retired god – after all,
  he’s nearly omniscient and omnipresent. Students poking around
  campus basements may run across 55-gallon drums labelled
  “Industrial Strength Janitor in a Drum.” Anyone who opens these
  wakes up the next morning in Lazarus Health Center. Attempts to
  record the opening always result in burned-out cameras, overloaded
  microphones and the like. Use of the History spell requires the caster
  to make a Fright Check at -10 and induces spot amnesia covering
  what the caster learned. Psychometry links the drums to George, and
  reveals incredible power – which washes out all details. A few stu-
  dents, subsequently treated for mental aberrations, have reported
  seeing a 50-foot-tall George sweeping buildings up after really big
  disasters. George can be used as a deus ex machina if the characters
  get into real trouble on campus, and no one else is handy to help.
  Weird: Same as Silly, though the power levels will be toned
  down. This version is probably close to the character statistics
  given above.
  Darkly Illuminated: There aren’t any 55-gallon drums or
  reports of 50-foot janitors. This George is a lot more sinister –
  he seems to lurk a lot more, and is probably spying on students.
  He sells information and assistance with locked doors, but not
  cheerfully. He also asks more questions, and isn’t very helpful
  until they’re answered. George might even be the real power
  behind the University. He’s almost certainly a senior member of
  the Illuminati.
  TTHHEE LLIIBBRRAARRIIAANN
  ST 8, DX 9, IQ 13, HT 10.
  Advantages: Strong Will +5, Danger Sense, The Treatment
  III, Absolute Direction, Academic Status +5.
  Disadvantages: Unattractive Appearance, Miserliness,
  Intolerance (students), Lecherous, Reputation -3 (students, all
  the time), No Sense of Humor, Odious Personal Habit (whiny
  voice, -2 reaction), Bad Sight (nearsighted).
  Quirks: The Library will close on time; Doesn’t much like
  professors, either; Thinks all the books in the Library are his.
  Skills: Administration-18, Research-14, Stealth-16, Area
  Knowledge (IOU Library)-18, Area Knowledge (IOU)-15,
  Survival (IOU)-19.
  A tall, balding, thin man with a thin, whiny voice, thick
  glasses and the soul of a bureaucrat – or maybe several of them,
  he’s the collector type – Ignatius Potts is the Head Librarian. If
  he had free rein, the Library would never lend any books out,
  nor would it allow students into the Library to handle them.
  Typical dialogue: “Where are you going with that book?
  You think you can just borrow it?”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  The Librarian is a bureaucratic menace in all the campaign
  styles, and differs very little – though he undoubtedly practices
  Necromancy on the side in the Darkly Illuminated IOU.
  RROOBBOOCCRRAATT
  ST 24, DX 16, IQ 12, HT 14/50.
  Advantages: High Pain Threshold, Combat Reflexes, Perfect
  Balance, Lightning Calculator, Infravision, PD +4, DR 100,
  Status 4.
  Disadvantages: Cowardice, No Sense of Humor, Fear of
  Oceans, Laziness, Duty (to IOU, quite often, not hazardous, -5
  points), Reputation -4 (all IOU students and faculty, all the time).
  Quirks: Needs frequent oiling or he squeaks; Weighs so
  much he endangers floors, bridges, etc.; Speaks in a high, nasal
  whine.
  Skills: Administration-18, Accounting-15, Survival (IOU) 
  -11, Area Knowledge (IOU)-15, Intimidation-19, Electronic
  Operations (Computers)-13.
  Formerly a joint project between WUSE and COUP,
  Robocrat was supposed to be the ultimate war cyborg. However,
  the only available brain at the time was Harvey Tillotson, a
  minor flunky in the Bursar’s office, who’d had the misfortune to
  be eating his lunch in the Pent when WUSE tested its nuclear-
  powered lawnmower there.
  When Harvey woke up in his shiny new body, he decided
  that war was too dangerous, and opted for a nice cushy adminis-
  trative position. Since the only thing really qualified to argue
  with him was the Bio-Ogre (p. 87), and the amount of collateral
  destruction was estimated to cost the entire COUP and WUSE
  budgets for the next five years, Robocrat got his soft job.
  These days, Robocrat makes sure that students don’t forget to
  63
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  
  fill out all their paperwork (like the “Home Universe
  Designation” entry on your student health incident report form),
  delivers “Overdue Library Book” notices, collects payments on
  various fines from students and counts the days till retirement.
  Any student who’s ever had to deal with Robocrat is also count-
  ing the days till his retirement, and wishing it would happen soon.
  Typical dialogue: “You do want to fill out your KT-14/YF,
  don’t you?”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As given above. This version looks like a giant
  chromed robot.
  Weird: Drop the quirks and add a quirk-level Intolerance
  for WUSE majors. Robocrat looks like a large male human with
  plastic skin, and moves mechanically.
  Darkly Illuminated: Drop the Cowardice and Fear of
  Oceans disadvantages, add Intolerance (WUSE students) and
  change the quirks to “Wants revenge on WUSE.” This variation
  appears to be just a normal 300-pound ex-football player.
  MMAADDAAMMEE CCUURRRRYY
  ST 7, DX 10, IQ 13, HT 18.
  Advantages: Academic Status +1 (senior staff), Rapier Wit,
  Absolute Timing, Unfazeable, Strong Will +3. Rumored: High
  Pain Threshold, Cast Iron Stomach, The Treatment II, One-
  College (Food) Magery 3.
  Disadvantages: Skinny, Miserliness, Stubbornness, Duty
  (to University, quite often, rarely dangerous). Rumored: No
  Sense of Smell/Taste, Sadism.
  Skills: Cooking-15, Shortsword-14 (used with rolling pins),
  Axe-13 (used with cleavers), Knife-15, First Aid-13,
  Accounting-13, Chemistry-12, Biochemistry-12, Administra-
  tion-16, Leadership-13, Poisons-12, Fast-Talk-14, Intimidation-
  15, Alchemy-14.
  Spells: All Food College spells from GURPS Magic and
  GURPS Grimoire. (Some rumors state that she is a
  Necromancer as well, but those are surely exaggerated.) All pre-
  requisites are known at 12.
  The Chief of Residential (and Industrial) Food Services is a
  formidable, and often old-fashioned, woman who goes by the
  name of “Madame Curry.” (A very few people are allowed to
  address her by her first name, Lucrezia.) With her steel-wool-
  gray hair in a tight bun, and wearing her lead-lined gloves and
  apron, Madame (not Mrs., not Ms.) Curry rules the kitchen staff
  with a cast-iron skillet, and has most of the students intimidated
  as well. Her office door bears a plaque reading: “The hand that
  wields the ladle rules the world.” Rumor has it that the plaque is
  magical – probably a rare example of Pun Magic enchantment.
  Typical dialogue: “So what’s wrong with curried milk?”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Madame Curry is essentially the same in all campaign
  styles. The Darkly Illuminated version definitely has
  Necromantic spells, though (and therefore doesn’t have the
  One-College restriction on her Magery).
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  64
  SAMPLE STUDENTS
  This is a collection of 100-point and higher students suit-
  able for use as “instant PCs” or as recurring NPCs. These stu-
  dents are primarily designed for Silly or Weird campaigns.
  There are suggestions for Darkly Illuminated versions, but
  details are left as an exercise for the student . . . ah, reader.
  (Hint: add Instant Angst, e.g., Paranoia and On the Edge.)
  GGIILLLLIIAANN BBRREENNTT::
  AANNTTHHRROOPPOOLLOOGGYY
  SSTTUUDDEENNTT//WWIITTCCHH
  Point Total: 100 (Freshthing)
  ST 10, DX 9, IQ 14, HT 9.
  Advantages: Strong Will +1,
  Intuition, Magical Aptitude 2, ESP
  Power 7, Psi Sense Power 6 (Single
  skill), Signature Sniffer Power 2
  (Single skill), Familiar (Pyewacket, cat): ST 3, Rider Within, IQ 7,
  Telepathic, Mage Suffers Wounds, Limitation: only within 100 yards.
  Disadvantages: Combat Paralysis, Academic Status -2
  (fresh-thing), Sense of Duty (friends), Severe Shyness.
  Quirks: Always dresses in black; Likes being “special”;
  Talks to her cat a lot; Enjoys playing “Freak the mundanes”;
  Tries to hide her southern drawl.
  Skills: Alchemy/TL7-11, Anthropology-13, Archaeology-13,
  Area Knowledge (IOU)-13, Clairaudience-11, Clairvoyance-13,
  Detect Lies-11, Driving (Car)-9, First Aid/TL7-13, History-11,
  Linguistics-11, Literature-11, Naturalist-11, Occultism-14,
  Precognition-11, Psi Sense-14, Psychology-11, Psychometry-12,
  Research-14, Seekersense-11, Signature Sniffer-12, Survival
  (Desert)-12, Survival (IOU)-12, Survival (Jungle)-12, Theology-
  11, Language: Ancient Mayan-12, Language: Egyptian
  Hieroglyphics-12, Language: Latin-13, Language: Sanskrit-13.
  Spells: (all at skill level 14) Light, Sense Life, Sense Foes,
  Sense Emotion, Truthsayer, Ignite Fire, Apportation, Levitation,
  Foolishness, Daze, Detect Magic, Aura, Seeker, Seek Earth,
  Seek Water.
  Ms. Brent is a witch – at least, that’s how she thinks of her-
  self. It’s a lot more interesting than being an ordinary anthropol-
  ogy student. Some of those anthropology courses were a lot
  more useful than the professors realized, though. And only
  witches have familiars, right? Pyewacket reassures her on that
  point. People do find the fact that a black cat goes everywhere
  with her a bit odd, but since the ArchDean likes cats, nobody’s
  going to raise much fuss about that.
  Gillian is 18 years old, moderately tall (5’8”) and willowy
  (about 110 lbs.), with green eyes and reddish-gold hair. She is oth-
  erwise average in appearance, if someone who dresses eccentrical-
  ly and carries a black cat around can be called average.
  
  Role Models: Samantha (from the TV series Bewitched), the
  Wizard of Oz, Granny Weatherwax (from Terry Pratchett’s
  Discworld books), Morticia Addams (from The Addams Family).
  Typical dialogue: Gillian doesn’t talk all that much, but she
  can really look at people . . .
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As above; Pyewacket rides on her shoulders and
  makes (somewhat simplistic) telepathic wisecracks about things.
  Weird: As above; Pyewacket hides in her backpack, espe-
  cially during classes, and is less opinionated.
  Darkly Illuminated: As above, but add Counterspell.
  Despite her aura of innocence; she’s perfectly capable of
  researching even the darkest spells – though she’d rather not
  cast them. Pyewacket always hides in her backpack, and is
  scared of any other cats on campus.
  JJOOEE CCAALLDDEERRWWOOOODD:: FFOOOOTTBBAALLLL EENNGGLLIISSHH MMAAJJOORR
  && PPAARRTT--TTIIMMEE WWEERREEWWOOLLFF
  Point Total: 103 (Freshthing)
  ST 10, DX 15, IQ 9, HT 13.
  Advantages:
  Attractive,
  Werewolf (can change at will),
  High Pain Threshold, Charisma
  +1, Ally Group (the Team), Jock.
  Disadvantages: Lives on
  Campus, Odious Personal Habit
  (Tells old game stories constantly,
  -5 points), Major Delusion
  (Believes supermarket tabloids are
  truthful), Claustro-phobia, Academic Status -2 (freshthing).
  Quirks: Wants to get a job as a “color” commentator when
  he graduates; Has secret cravings for dog biscuits; Sheds a lot;
  Afraid of the ArchDean’s cats; Thinks teen romance novels are
  “literature.”
  Skills: Area Knowledge (IOU)-9, Brawling-14, Carousing-
  12, Driving (Car)-13, Literature-7, Motorcycle-15, Poetry-8,
  Running-12, Sports (Football)-14, Survival (IOU)-8,
  Swimming-14, Tactics-9, Throwing-15, Writing-8.
  Joe is the typical football hero – except for that little prob-
  lem with howling at the moon and needing to shave about three
  times a day. After a run-in with the local dog-catcher, he’s got
  his doggie tags, at least. First time the pound had seen a blond,
  blue-eyed wolf, though.
  In appearance, he’s a standard quarterback, if one discounts
  the hair – tall, well-built and usually with a cheerleader or two
  hanging off each arm. Joe is 18, and is majoring in English
  (well, sort of).
  Role Models: Joe Namath, Lassie, Rin Tin Tin.
  Typical dialogue: “. . . and after he fumbled the pass two
  minutes into the second quarter . . . say, are you asleep?”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: Joe’s been known to shift forms on the field, if it’s
  tactically advantageous.
  Weird: As above.
  Darkly Illuminated: As above, but replace “teen romances”
  quirk with secret fears about the times when the full moon
  forces his change, and he can’t quite remember what he did all
  night . . . or where the blood spots on his T-shirt came from.
  LLOORRIIEELL DDEEFFOORREESSTT:: PPHHYYSS--EEDD MMAAJJOORR//YYRRTTHH
  EELLFF//MMAARRTTIIAALL AARRTTIISSTT
  Point Total: 200 (Gradthing)
  ST 8, DX 14, IQ 14, HT 10.
  Advantages:
  Animal
  Empathy, Elf (Combat Reflexes,
  Charisma +1, Magical Aptitude 1,
  Musical Ability +2, Unaging).
  Disadvantages: Poor, Racial
  Code of Honor (for elegant
  behavior, -10 points), Racial
  Sense of Duty (to nature, -15
  points), Kleptomania,.
  Quirks: Acts without thinking much; Always wears her
  epeé; Touchy about her ears; Has a short fuse on her temper;
  Likes to swing on ropes and yodel.
  Skills: Acrobatics-15, Animal Handling-15, Area
  Knowledge (IOU)-15, Artist-13, Bard-14, Bow-15, Carousing-
  11, Climbing-14, Cooking-13, Dancing-14, Fencing-17, First
  Aid/TL7-14, Fishing-13, Force Sword-14, Jeweler/TL3-12,
  Judo-15, Karate-15, Musical Instrument (Recorder)-15,
  Naturalist-13, Pickpocket-15, Riding (Horse)-17, Running-9,
  Shortsword-15, Singing-13, Stealth-15, Survival (Woodlands)-
  12, Survival (IOU)-15, Swimming-14, Throwing-15, Tracking-
  13, Traps/TL3-12, Veterinary/TL7-15, Language: Elvish-14
  (native language), Language: Anglish-12 (the Yrth variant of
  English), Language: English-12.
  Spells: (all at skill level 15) Ignite Fire, Create Fire, Seek
  Water, Purify Water, Create Water, Test Food, Cook, Create
  Food, Beast-Soother, Beast Summoning, Beast Speech.
  Ms. deForest is an elf from Yrth. (See GURPS Fantasy,
  second edition.) She’s still not too sure where she is now, except
  that if she ever gets her hands on the wizard who cast that
  Teleport spell . . . She only wanted to get to Megalos in a hurry!
  It hasn’t been all bad, though – once she learned the language,
  she found out they had all sorts of interesting combat skills
  she’d never heard of. Now, if she could only figure out why all
  the students call her Ms. Spock . . .
  Loriel is five-foot-five, thin (90 lbs.) and sort of attractive,
  in a pointy-eared way. While she looks 19, her actual age is
  about 30, due to her longer lifespan. Her major is Phys. Ed., nat-
  urally, and her graduate thesis topic is “Development of a
  Fencing Technique for Immaterial Energy Blades.”
  Role Models: John Audubon, Bruce Lee and Cyrano de
  Bergerac.
  Typical dialogue: “Will you stop staring at my ears,
  already? Or do you want me to stretch yours for you? No, I’m
  not cute when I’m angry – I’m mean.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As above, blatantly.
  Weird: As above, but tones herself down off-campus, and
  hides her ears under her hair.
  Darkly Illuminated: Loriel may be a Dark Elf, harboring
  a secret hatred of all non-elvish races and plotting to destroy
  the world while she escapes back to Yrth! (Add Bloodlust
  and Intolerance: Humans.) Or she could just be very, very out
  of her element, seeking a way back home that doesn’t
  involve necromancers (see the IOU in Other Genres sidebar,
  p. 93).
  65
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  
  GGUUIIDDOO ((MMAARRIIOONN MMIILLBBEERRTT)):: CCOOUUPP HHOONNOORR
  SSTTUUDDEENNTT && CCAAMMPPUUSS EENNFFOORRCCEERR
  Point Total: 175 (Senior)
  ST 11, DX 14, IQ 14, HT 12.
  Advantages: Honor Student,
  Combat Reflexes, High Pain
  Threshold, Magic Resistance +2,
  Strong Will +1.
  Disadvantages: Academic
  Status -1 (undergrad), Skinny,
  Reputation -4 (as a dangerous
  thug, all students, all the time),
  Ugly Appearance, Secret (he’s
  really wimpy-looking, -10 points,
  turns into -20 point Enemies),
  Code of Honor (thug), Stubbornness.
  Quirks: Hates being “himself”; Planning on going into law;
  Cultivates a New Jersey accent (he’s really from Iowa); Doesn’t
  like using guns; Takes pride in his work.
  Skills: Acting-21, Administration-13, Area Knowledge
  (IOU)-14, Battlesuit/TL8-13, Blackjack-15, Brawling-15,
  Boxing-13, Broadsword-13, Demolition/TL7-13, Detect Lies-14,
  Disguise-20, Driving (Car)-14, Electronic Operations (Security
  Systems)/TL7-14, Fast Draw (Blackjack)-15, Fast Draw (Knife)-
  15, Forgery/TL7-12, Guns/TL7-16, Holdout-14, Interrogation-13,
  Intimidation-18, Judo-13, Karate-15, Knife-15, Knife Throwing-
  14, Law-12, Lockpicking/TL7-14, Poisons-12, Psychology-13,
  Running-10, Shadowing-13, Stealth-14, Streetwise-13, Survival
  (IOU)-14, Swimming-14, Tactics-12, Traps/TL7-14.
  Marion Milbert, more commonly known on campus as
  “Guido,” is a senior Honors student in COUP, majoring in Dirty
  Tricks. When in grade school, Marion was a wimpy, picked-on,
  little kid. Since he had a great interest in acting and disguises, he
  invented the “Guido” persona when he switched schools. He
  never had problems again.
  In his natural state, Marion is 5’7” and weighs 123 pounds.
  As “Guido,” though, he appears 6’2”, weighing in somewhere
  between a refrigerator and a Mack truck. To reinforce his role,
  Marion has been working out since age 12, which is why his
  attributes are so high, relative to his actual size. He’s rather
  annoyed that he never seems to put on weight, though – must be
  one of those metabolic things.
  Role Models: Mack the Knife and Godzilla.
  Typical dialogue: “This is going to hurt you more than it
  hurts me. A lot more . . .”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Guido is essentially the same in all versions of the campus;
  add Sadism and Bully for the Darkly Illuminated character.
  SSAARRAAHH HHOOLLDDEENN:: JJOOUURRNNAALLIISSMM MMAAJJOORR//CCAAMMPPUUSS
  RREEPPOORRTTEERR
  Point Total: 150 (Junior)
  ST 9, DX 10, IQ 14, HT 11
  Advantages: Attractive, Acute
  Hearing +1, Acute Vision +1,
  Charisma +1, Empathy, ESP Power
  Level 8 (includes Danger Sense),
  Intuition, Strong Will +1, Voice,
  Rapier Wit.
  Disadvantages: Academic Status -1 (Undergrad), Lives on
  Campus, Curious, Impulsiveness, Overconfidence, Stub-
  bornness.
  Quirks: Code Of Honor: Keep quotes straight, don’t mis-
  spell names, get the story no matter what; The people (and she)
  have a right to know the facts; Locked doors are hiding a story;
  Always carries 2-3 cameras, a tape recorder and a bug or two;
  Pretends she doesn’t have ESP.
  Skills: Acting-13, Area Knowledge (IOU)-14, Bard-16,
  Bicycling-11, Brawling-11, Carousing-11, Clairaudience-13,
  Clairvoyance-13, Climbing-10, Computer Operation/TL7-13,
  Detect Lies-17, Diplomacy-15, Disguise-14, Electronic
  Operations (Security Systems)/TL7-14, Electronic Operations
  (Sensors)/TL7-14, Fast Draw (Camera)-11, Fast-Talk-14,
  Forensics/TL7-11, Forgery/TL7-12, Holdout-14, Interrogation-
  14, Lip Reading-13, Lockpicking/TL7-13, Mathematics-12,
  Performance-15, Photography/TL7-16, Precognition-14,
  Psychology-16, Psychometry-13, Research-13, Running-8,
  Savoir-Faire-15, Shadowing-13, Stealth-10, Streetwise-12,
  Survival (IOU)-17, Tracking-13, Traps/TL7-14, Writing-14,
  Language: English-14, Language: Spanish-12, Language:
  Japanese-12, Language: Russian-12.
  Sarah is a gung-ho reporter-in-training who wants to grow
  up to be a big-name muckraking telejournalist, or maybe a major
  newspaper reporter. She talks at about 78 RPM – though not so
  high-pitched – and chases sources (or suspected sources) all over
  campus while asking them all the questions they don’t want to
  answer. She also is very good at lurking outside offices and
  shoving microphones in peoples’ faces. She’ll go far.
  At 5’ 7” and 135 lbs., Sarah would make a fair stand-in for
  Lois Lane, except she’s a vivid redhead. On the other hand, it’s
  not at all unlikely she’ll meet a tall, dark alien around campus
  some day . . .
  Ms. Holden is a junior, majoring in Journalism (obviously),
  and part of the Daily Illuminator’s staff.
  Role Models: Woodward and Bernstein, Dan Rather, any
  writer for the more outrageous supermarket tabloids.
  Typical dialogue: “This is strictly off the record . . . can I
  quote you on that?”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As above, but add a -5 point Odious Personal Habit:
  Never Stops Interviewing People. She also shows little sign of
  self-preservation, having the -10 point Delusion: Reporters Are
  Immune to Events They Report.
  Weird: As written.
  Darkly Illuminated: Reporters often find out lots of things
  other people would rather weren’t known . . .
  JJOOHHNNAATTHHAANN LLIIRRDDEENN,, IIIIII:: BBUUSSIINNEESSSS
  MMAAJJOORR//SSUUPPEERR--RRIICCHH KKIIDD
  Point Total: 100 (Freshthing)
  ST 9, DX 10, IQ 13, HT 10.
  Advantages: Social Status +2,
  Multimillionaire +1, Language
  Talent +2, Voice, Reputation +2
  (Big spender).
  Disadvantages: Acrophobia,
  Cowardice, Laziness, Academic
  Status -2 (freshthing). 
  Quirks: Lets Jeeves do it;
  Spends a lot of time on his yacht;
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  66
  
  Never speaks Russian if he can help it; Hates soft drinks;
  Always wears a suit.
  Skills: Accounting-10, Acting-12, Administration-12, Area
  Knowledge (Boston)-12, Area Knowledge (IOU)-12, Bard-13,
  Boating-9, Carousing-10, Computer Operation/TL7-12, Detect
  Lies-11, Diplomacy-13, Driving (Car)-10, Economics-11, Fast-
  Talk-12, Law-10, Leadership-11, Merchant-15, Navigation/TL7-
  10, Politics-13, Psychology-12, Savoir-Faire-13, Seaman-
  ship/TL7-12, Survival (IOU)-11, Swimming-10, Language:
  English-13, Language: French-13, Language: German-13,
  Language: Japanese-13, Language: Russian-13.
  Johnathan is the typical spoiled rich kid, with a taste for
  yachts, expensive cars and big parties with the right people. He
  just wishes that, when his parents died in a car accident last
  year, he hadn’t found out that their booming business (alfalfa
  sprout-flavored ice cream) was originally supposed to be a front
  – they were spies for the KGB, until they hit it big-time in the
  land of opportunity.
  In appearance, J. Lirden the Third is the average preppy,
  though a trifle on the heavy side (his chef is very good). Of
  course, his clothing is much more expensive than the average
  preppy’s, but since he prefers the understated look, this isn’t
  obvious. He’s majoring in Business, though not working very
  hard at it (or anything else). Fortunately, a sizable monthly con-
  tribution to the University keeps his grades up . . .
  Unlike most of the other peons, Lirden can afford just about
  anything he needs or wants. It need only be available some-
  where, for money. Illegal equipment may be harder to get,
  though – he doesn’t really have the connections for it, though he
  can afford good enough lawyers to keep him out of trouble if he
  gets caught with something he shouldn’t have . . . probably.
  Role Models: John D. Rockefeller, Donald Trump and
  Howard Hughes.
  Typical dialogue: “Oh, Jeeves . . . would you mind terribly
  taking care of the rampaging Tyrannosaurus . . . yes, there’ll be a
  little something extra on your next paycheck.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: Johnathan makes money from the most improbable
  things without trying; Jeeves is a classic English butler, and even
  goes to classes with his master, taking notes (and tests) for him.
  Weird:As written.
  Darkly Illuminated: Has Enemy: KGB, and his parents’ for-
  tune probably originated in substances less legal than ice cream.
  He daydreams of becoming a robber baron, and the term “hos-
  tile takeover” makes him smile toothily. Jeeves looks like an ex-
  wrestler.
  OOGG TTHHEE EEIIDDEETTIICC CCAAVVEEMMAANN:: HHIISSTTOORRYY
  MMAAJJOORR//RREESSEEAARRCCHH SSUUBBJJEECCTT
  Point Total: 100 (Freshthing)
  ST 14, DX 12, IQ 11, HT 12.
  Advantages: Eidetic Memory
  (2 levels.)
  Disadvantages: Primitive (-6
  Tech Levels), Sense of Duty
  (friends), Academic Status -2
  (Freshthing), 
  Impulsiveness,
  Struggling, Unattractive.
  Quirks: Always carries his
  club; Has a decidedly non-primi-
  tive sense of humor; Tells Nean-
  derthal jokes a lot; Always refers to himself in the third person;
  Likes cafeteria food.
  Skills: Anthropology-10, Archaeology-10, Area Knowledge
  (IOU)-12, Axe/Mace (club)-13, Brawling-12, Camouflage-13,
  Climbing-10, Cooking-7, Fast Draw (club)-11, Fishing-12,
  Gesture-12, History-10, Intimidation-11, Jumping-11, Running-9,
  Scrounging-12, Spear-11, Stealth-12, Survival (Plains)-11, Survival
  (IOU)-11, Swimming-11, Throwing-10, Tracking-12, Two-handed
  Club-11, Language: Prehistoric Grunts-11, Language: English-11.
  Og is currently an Ancient History major in C.T.H.U.L.H.U. In
  his pre-college years, he was a prehistoric member of the Tribe of
  Larh. About to meet an unpleasant demise underneath a dying wool-
  ly mammoth, Og managed to hang onto a fleeing C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  student long enough for the temporal flux field to drag them both
  back to campus. Og being the quick study that he is, he picked up a
  few simple phrases (“Drop gun or Og hit,” “This button make time-
  machine go,” “Og borrow paper?” and “Got number-two pencil?”),
  and convinced various students and faculty that he should be given a
  scholarship (he makes a great research subject, too). It only took him
  another month to learn to read and write.
  Og is about 18, and a couple of inches above six feet. He
  weighs in at 185 pounds, and can be readily identified by the
  club that he always carries around. While Og isn’t necessarily
  the brightest student, he does have a sense of humor, and often
  wears shirts reading: “Co-Ed Nude Mud Wrestling – La Brea
  Tar Pits, 40,000 B.C.”
  Role Models: Og doesn’t have any role models – he’s a pro-
  totype.
  Typical dialogue: “No, not what you say before. Og got
  good memory – ‘oral tradition.’ Og hear you say . . .”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As above.
  Weird: If time-travel still exists, so does Og, but he’s learn-
  ing to use the first person pronoun.
  Darkly Illuminated: Og is severely out of his depth, and
  knows it. He’s hoping to learn enough about the outside world
  to survive, and then he’ll go far, far away from the University.
  Till then, he’s just trying to keep his head down and avoid draw-
  ing attention to himself.
  JJOOHHNN SSMMIITTHH:: PPSSYYCCHHOOLLOOGGYY MMAAJJOORR//SSTTRRAANNDDEEDD
  AALLIIEENN PPSSII--MMUUSSIICCIIAANN
  Point Total: 100 (Fresh-
  thing)
  ST 9, DX 9, IQ 15, HT
  10.
  Advantages: ESP Power
  Level 5, Psychokinesis Power
  Level 21 (Uncontrollable,
  Fickle: 14-, Needs 1-hour
  recharge), 
  Autoteleport
  Power Level 5 (Single skill,
  Emergencies 
  only, 
  No
  “castling,” Uncontrollable),
  Telepathy Power Level 7 (Half-power without 1 hour preparation,
  1-hour re-charge), Unusual Background (15 points, High-TL
  alien).
  Disadvantages: Ugly, Academic Status -2 (freshthing),
  Enemy (USAF, appears on 6-). 
  Quirks: Hums weird tunes; Homesick; Ignorant of Earth
  customs; Sort of spaced-out; Thinks milk is poisonous.
  67
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  
  Skills: Acting-14, Area Knowledge (IOU)-14, Area
  Knowledge (Milky Way)-14, Autoteleport-12, Carousing-11,
  Clairaudience-12, Clairvoyance-12, Cryokinesis-12, Disguise-
  13, Fast-Talk-14, Mental Blow-12, Mind Shield-12, Mindwipe-
  12, Musical Instrument (Psiharp)-14, Precognition-12, Psi
  Sense-12, Psychometry-12, Pyrokinesis-12, Savoir-Faire-15,
  Sleep-12, Streetwise-13, Survival (IOU)-13, Telekinesis-13,
  Telereceive-12, Telesend-14, Xenology-12, Language: Galactic
  Five-15 (native language), Language: English-13.
  Mr. Smith is an alien psi-musician from Betelgeuse XVII.
  On a lark in his saucer, he buzzed the Earth and took a lucky
  missile hit from a surprised F-15. Fortunately, the saucer crash-
  landed just off Cape Cod, and he made his way to IOU, hiding
  his violet-tinged skin under instant-tanning lotion, and his hair
  under a knitted cap. He still looks a bit odd, though. Hiding out
  from the Air Force while looking for a way to get back home, he
  found the University and decided it was a good hiding place –
  he almost blends in here.
  At least “John” salvaged his Tool. This is a mutable alien
  device he can mind-shape into anything he needs – usually it’s a
  psi-amplifier (+5 to power) for his performances. (The abilities
  of the Tool are the reason for the 15-point Unusual
  Background.) Changing the Tool’s current function requires a
  successful Telesend skill roll, and takes three seconds for the
  Tool to reconfigure.
  Since the Tool can duplicate Earth money quite easily, John
  has little to worry about on that score, but he is trying to stay
  inconspicuous, in case those unfriendly people with the missiles
  are still looking for him. (Furthermore, the ArchDean is not
  noted for accepting bills with the same serial numbers, even for
  different semesters – duplicating too much money, especially
  on-campus, might annoy her.)
  In appearance, John Smith is fairly human, except for the
  naturally-purple skin, orange and green-striped hair and
  facial features that resemble those of a Pekinese dog (minus
  the fur and wet nose). He looks about 19, though he’s a bit
  older (he never was very good at remembering those tempo-
  ral compensation factors . . .). He’s also large for a human
  male – an inch under six feet in height, and weighing in at
  200 lbs. John is majoring in Psychology, mostly because
  nobody can tell if he really knows what he’s talking about,
  and everybody is afraid to call him on it. Besides, it’s a snap
  for someone who can read the professors’ minds (such as
  they are).
  Role Model: Ford Prefect (from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to
  the Galaxy).
  Typical dialogue: “Uh, do you really use mustard on hot
  dogs? I mean, I thought that’s what we used for fuel in
  stardrives. Well, it was some kind of yellow glop. I’m a musi-
  cian, not an engineer!”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As above; keeps almost getting home, but pulled back
  to the University because of over-due book fines or other finan-
  cial foul-ups.
  Weird: Remove “Ignorant of Earth customs” and add
  “Nervous around people in military uniforms, army jets, etc.”
  Darkly Illuminated: John has to hide his features a little
  better, but he’s still pretty ugly; add Secret: Psionic Alien and
  Enemy: US Government – they found his saucer, and now
  they’re looking for the pilot. Fortunately (?), a Dark campus has
  many uses for a psi-musician, and some teachers will want to
  protect John for their own reasons; add Secret Advantage:
  Patron (various Faculty).
  SSWWOOMMII TTIIFFTT:: PPHHYYSSIICCSS SSTTUUDDEENNTT//GGIIRRLL
  GGEENNIIUUSS//MMAADD SSCCIIEENNTTIISSTT
  Point Total: 125 (Sophomore)
  ST 8, DX 8, IQ 18, HT 8.
  Advantages: Eidetic Memory
  (1 level), Beautiful Appearance,
  Gadgeteer, Gizmo (× 1).
  Disadvantages: Absent-mind-
  edness, Pacifism: Self-defense
  Only, Academic Status -1 (under-
  grad), Compulsive Behavior
  (Read-ing UseNet News).
  Quirks: Shy; Wears glasses
  but doesn’t need them; Likes
  machines better than people;
  Forgets to do homework (and
  take exams); Always complains
  about how primitive everything
  is.
  Skills: Alchemy/TL9-15, Area Knowledge (IOU)-18,
  Armory/TL9-17, Astronomy/TL7-12, Beam Weapons
  (Laser)/TL9-10, Biochemistry/TL9-15, Chemistry/TL9-16,
  Computer Operation/TL7-14, Computer Programming/TL9-17,
  Driving (Car)-13, Electronics (Computers)/TL9-18, Electronics
  (other)/TL9-15, Engineer (Robotics)/TL9-17, Engineer
  (Mechanical)/TL9-16, Engineer (Vehicles)/TL9-16, Geol-
  ogy/TL7-16, Lockpicking/TL7-17, Mathematics-17, Mechanic
  (Automobile)/TL9-17, Mechanic (Small Electric Motors)/TL7-
  17, Mechanic (Small Gadgets)/TL9-18, Metallurgy/TL9-16,
  Navigation/TL7-16, Nuclear Physics/TL9-17, Physics/TL9-17,
  Piloting (any)/TL9-12, Research-17, Science!-13, Scrounging-
  18, Survival (IOU)-17, Weird Science-15.
  Ms. Tift is the archetypical supergenius scientist gadget
  freak – wimpy, absent-minded and socially incompetent. But
  she can make all sorts of gadgets the world isn’t ready for: laser
  pistols, stunners, anti-grav vehicles, time machines . . . She
  hasn’t quite invented FTL drive, but it’s only a matter of time.
  (As a small child, Swomi swiped the repair manual for a UFO
  that had broken down in her backyard, hence her unusual TL9
  skills.)
  She doesn’t fit the classical superscientist mold in two
  ways, however: first, she’s female, and second, beautiful. Of
  course, being a typical WUSE student, she doesn’t think of her-
  self that way. Swomi is about 5’ 8” tall, 130 lbs. and age 19.
  She’s majoring in Physics, but is also interested in all the sci-
  ence and engineering disciplines.
  Role Models: Albert Einstein, Doc Savage and Rube
  Goldberg.
  Typical dialogue: “I can fix that for you. Really.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Essentially the same in all versions. The Dark Swomi is fig-
  uring out that if you rule the world, you get to build all sorts of
  neat stuff! Why, the space program would be so advanced if
  only she had control of it . . . (Replace “Forgets to do home-
  work” and “Shy” quirks with “Likes to run techie projects from
  behind the scenes,” and “Always puts a hardware or software
  ‘back door’ into anything she works on.”)
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  68
  
  This section gives average char-
  acters and descriptions for a couple
  of “spear carrier” NPC types likely to
  be encountered around campus. If the
  PCs insist on repeated interactions
  with a single character, the GM
  should elaborate on these basic tem-
  plates as whim dictates.
  CCAAMMPPUUSS SSEECCUURRIITTYY
  ST 10, DX 11, IQ 9, HT 10.
  Advantages: Legal Enforcement Powers (only on campus, 5
  points).
  Disadvantages: Unluckiness, Gullibility, Cowardice, Duty
  (to IOU, extremely hazardous), Enemy (Monster of the Week,
  quite often), Academic Status -1 (staff).
  Quirks: Keeps looking over his shoulder or up at the sky;
  Mild fear of loud noises (which usually mean something bad is
  about to happen); Trigger-happy.
  Skills: Detect Lies-9, Guns (pistol)-12, Beam Weapons
  (laser pistol)-10, Brawling-9, Karate-9, Judo-9.
  The campus cops are incompetent, dumb and generally use-
  less, but they do neatly fill the ecological niche of “monster fod-
  der.” They can also serve to harass PCs with silly questions while
  investigating something – especially if the solution to the crime is
  in plain sight. One important purpose of Campus Security is to
  convince PCs that they had better solve whatever problem is cur-
  rently threatening the University – before Campus Security makes
  it any worse. If not pre-empted, Security’s solution to any problem
  is to get bigger weapons. And they aren’t very good with them . . .
  Most Campus Security members who survive more than a
  few days in the job also have Paranoia, since everyone is out to
  get them! Surviving officers usually develop Combat Reflexes
  and higher combat skills. (To have survived that long, they also
  typically have either Luck or Danger Sense!)
  Typical dialogue: Bang! Bang! Zap! “Stop or we’ll shoot!”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: For reasons never adequately explained, the standard
  uniform for members of the elite campus security force is a
  crimson tunic with snappy black pants (which never seem to
  hold a crease well). On the front and back of the tunic is a bold
  white pattern of concentric circles.
  Weird: The uniform is maroon, with a small insignia of
  concentric white circles on the shoulder (which, for some odd
  reason, is where they often get shot). Raise average IQ to 10,
  and DX and HT to 12. Drop the Cowardice and Gullibility dis-
  advantages, and add Laziness.
  Darkly Illuminated: The uniform is a dark maroon, with a
  pyramid insignia patch on the shoulder. About half the force is
  “green,” and is the same as the Weird version; the remainder are
  fairly experienced, with some individuals being very formidable
  – possibly COUP graduates. Some of the latter masquerade as
  incompetents.
  SSAAHHUUDDEESSEE GGAARRDDEENNEERRSS
  ST 11, DX 15, IQ 11, HT 13.
  Advantages: Combat Reflexes, Danger Sense, Strong Will
  +6, Unfazeable.
  Disadvantages: Academic
  Status -1 (staff), Duty (to
  University, quite often, not haz-
  ardous, -5 points), Illiterate,
  Pacifism: Self-defense only,
  Primitive (TL4).
  Quirks: Just doing their job;
  Don’t take bribes; Don’t take notice
  of anything outside their work.
  Skills: Agronomy/TL4-15, Agronomy/TL7-14, Area
  Knowledge (IOU)-18, Botany/TL4-15, Botany/TL7-13,
  Professional Skill (Groundskeeping)-17, Survival (IOU)-17,
  Language: Sahudese-11, Language: English-8.
  Commonly seen on campus during the day, carefully pruning
  shrubs and trimming the grass, the vaguely Asiatic campus
  groundskeepers are all decidedly similar in appearance, enough so
  that it takes a Vision roll at -6 to tell them apart. It’s also hard to
  tell where they live – around dusk, they all disappear into the
  hedge maze in the Avant Gardens, to reappear from there the next
  morning. Rumors state that there’s a secret worldgate somewhere
  in the maze, which the gardeners use to commute to work, but no
  one has ever discovered it. Several of the more adventurous – and
  dumber – students have gotten lost in the maze for several days,
  before being rescued by the groundskeepers.
  One thing is clear: the groundskeeping staff isn’t from any-
  place on present-day Earth, though they appear human enough.
  They speak a language with a superficial resemblance to several
  modern-day Asian tongues, including Japanese, Korean and
  Mandarin Chinese, but it doesn’t match any of these very closely.
  In fact, all the gardeners commute from Yrth (the world
  described in GURPS Fantasy), from the nation of Sahud. Their
  culture is rather strange, but is unlikely to surface in on-campus
  interactions. (For the morbidly curious, there’s a great deal of
  information on the Sahudese in “Sahudese Fire Drill,” in
  GURPS Fantasy Adventures, as well as the basic information
  in GURPS Fantasy.)
  The gardeners are only interested in doing their jobs, which
  consist of tending the grounds and protecting the plants from the
  students and the students from the plants. They will, if absolutely
  necessary, converse in English with an extreme accent (probably
  to keep people from trying to talk to them). The rest of the time,
  they work quietly and ignore the destruction that often surrounds
  them – then carefully restore the lawns and shrubs afterward.
  Typical dialogue: “Keep off glass. Not feed.”
  VVaarriiaattiioonnss
  Silly: As written.
  Weird: Similar to Silly, though some of the gardeners seem
  to have other skills, including martial arts and spells – especially
  Plant College spells. They speak English with a skill of 9, and
  have much less of an accent.
  Darkly Illuminated: Rather than being from Yrth, the gar-
  deners seem to be from some unknown, remote part of Earth,
  possibly in the Himalayas. They still all look alike – maybe
  they’re clones. They lack the silly accent, and they probably
  sleep in hidden dormitories below the Avant Gardens. They
  speak English with a skill of 11, though they rarely use it.
  Campus inhabitants will often feel that the groundskeepers are
  watching them covertly. Many of the “gardeners” have ninja-
  like skills, combat skills and spellcasting or psionic abilities,
  though these will rarely be in evidence.
  69
  PPEEOOPPLLEE
  GENERIC STAFF
  
  PPllaacceess
  70
  T
  hree students lounged around the statue of the
  Founder, all in advanced stages of boredom. Four in
  the afternoon on the Thursday before classes start will
  do that – too early to party, too late to be sleeping in and all
  one’s books have already been bought or sold out.
  “Where ya wanna go?” Loriel asked, aiming the ques-
  tion somewhere skywards.
  Marcus sighed. “I dunno. You hungry? We could get
  Mexican food.”
  
  71
  PPllaacceess
  “If you call bean-sprout nachos Mexican . . .” Gillian said doubtfully. Her
  cat, Pyewacket, made hair-ball noises and hid his face against her side. She
  suggested, “Maybe we could get some popcorn and feed the squirrels in the
  Gardens?”
  “Last time we did that, we lost five hours on that ‘short-cut’ Marcus found,”
  Loriel objected. “How about the Mall?”
  With a shudder, Marcus shook his head. “They’re still doing back-to-school
  sales there. No way.”
  A bewildered-looking freshthing paused, looking at a map. “Excuse me,” he
  said, “but do any of you know where the Botany building is? I need to add a class.”
  The trio perked up. Showing new students around campus was usually good
  for some entertainment.
  “Sure!” Marcus said. “We’ll take you there! Ah, I hope you’re not afraid of
  heights, and don’t have any allergies . . .”
  “No – why?”
  Loriel and Gillian giggled, chorusing, “No reason.”
  BUILDINGS AND LANDMARKS
  TTHHEE PPEENNTT
  The “center” of campus is its Pent, a five-sided expanse of stone with the
  statue of the University’s Founder in the center. Trees are planted in small circu-
  lar pits at regular intervals around the edges, and there are several stone benches
  placed in orderly patterns. Overlooking the Pent are the Main Building, the
  Library, the Metaphysics building, the Student Union and the Escher Art
  Building. If anyone is curious enough to measure the angles of the Pent’s cor-
  ners, he finds that each one is 90 degrees.
  TTHHEE MMAAIINN BBUUIILLDDIINNGG
  The center of campus is the Main Building, where most Administration
  offices are located. This majestic building is impressively large, with proud neo-
  Gothic architecture. Jutting up from it, only slightly off-center, is the Clock
  Tower (see below).
  Inside, the place is a maze – the main hallway is clear enough and the main
  doors can usually be found, but the countless side corridors, stairs, hallways,
  unmarked offices and elevators ensure that any so foolhardy as to venture into
  the administrative warren will be lost in short order. Even those with Absolute
  Direction (or its enhanced version, Three-Dimensional Spatial Sense, from
  GURPS Space) will become confused, as the halls seem to continue on and on
  and on, looping around somehow until they connect into themselves. Only a full
  eidetic can navigate safely, and will get a headache from it.
  The ArchDean, with several years of experience in the building, doesn’t
  seem to have any problems, possibly because she carries the only known N-
  dimensional map of the structure.
  Many of the “fire-escape” style stairways lead past apparent basements to
  the lowest levels of the Main Building, where the architectural style abruptly
  changes (brick is used a lot more, for one thing), and where the dust on the
  floors is marked only by the footprints of Things Students Don’t Want To Meet.
  These lower levels connect to the steam tunnels. From the layout of the build-
  ing, it can be assumed that, by some mischance, these lower levels are actually a
  former Main Building, which somehow slipped or was thrust beneath the sur-
  face of the Earth, and built over. (A successful Architecture roll will reveal that
  the Clock Tower is actually built in the same style as these eerie lower levels.)
  Mapping the Campus 
  A sample campus map can be found on
  p. 80, but the GM may wish to use one
  from a local university, or make up his
  own. In any case, no printed map of the
  campus will be accurate for long, since
  some of the buildings move about, paths
  change, and, of course, many buildings
  suffer explosive deconstruction.
  Students get a map in the student hand-
  book. If the GM wants to give players a
  copy of this map, the best way to proceed
  is to make a photocopy of the real map on
  the worst copying machine available, spill
  a lot of coffee on it, then copy it again,
  reducing it to postage-stamp size.
  Somewhat better maps can be obtained for
  $5 and up in the campus bookstore.
  The only accurate maps of the campus
  are contained within highly-classified files
  buried somewhere in THE computer’s
  massive databases. As a rule, only the
  ArchDean and the deans have access to
  this information, since it includes all the
  secret tunnels, labs and storage vaults in
  and under the campus.
  The Founder
  In the center of the Pent, a large stone
  statue rests atop a five-sided marble
  pedestal – time, wind, rain, pigeons and
  the depredations of frat pranks have worn
  the statue into a vaguely humanoid shape
  with a distressing suggestion of facial ten-
  tacles. Well, maybe it always did have
  tentacles. There is a simple brass plate at
  the base of the statue, which bears a near-
  ly-indecipherable word: “Yarblek.” The
  meaning of this word has been lost in
  time, and none of the University’s person-
  al records seem to refer to it. Radioactive
  dating techniques indicate the statue is
  older than the universe.
  
  PPllaacceess
  72
  TTHHEE CCLLOOCCKK TTOOWWEERR
  In contrast to the rest of the Main Building, the Clock Tower is a simple,
  square, brick structure, somewhat off-center of the middle of the Main Building.
  It has four digital faces, one pointing in each direction, and all with different
  times. Exactly which time is accurate, if any, requires a Survival (IOU) roll to
  discern – especially since the faces have been known to display unrecognizable
  symbols. The Clock Tower also has hourly (or so) chimes, which are rarely in
  sync with any of the times it displays.
  The top of the Tower is reached via a single elevator off the main hallway, or
  by a very long and very creaky wrought-iron spiral staircase. These are the only
  ways to get to the ArchDean’s office, directly beneath the clock-faces – it seems
  to be shielded against magical and even psionic means of teleportation, while
  uninvited flyers suffer mysterious and devastating turbulence (astral visitors are
  equally restricted). It should be noted that the elevator is subject to change with-
  out notice, from a creaking cargo-lift, to a fairly normal elevator car, to a sleek
  bullet-shape, to an antigravity lift. Furthermore, it is always out of order whenev-
  er someone the ArchDean would rather not see wishes to visit her.
  Rumor has it that the elevator tends to fail when carrying someone the
  ArchDean particularly dislikes, plummeting several stories and crashing into the
  sub-basement. These rumors are sparked by the occasional unexplained appear-
  ance of elevator buttons with negative numbers – they currently go down to -4.
  (Once in a while, some of the buttons will be labelled with imaginary numbers,
  dates, or curious labels like “Now,” “Strawberry” or “Fuchsia.” So far, no one
  has been brave enough to try them. Or at least no one has returned to report try-
  ing them . . .)
  At the top of the Tower is the ArchDean’s office – the elevator doors open
  upon a vast expanse of pale gray carpeting, pristine despite the numerous cats
  lounging about. At the far end of the anomalously-large room is the ArchDean’s
  imposing desk and leather executive’s chair. While there is obviously an elevator at
  one end of the room, the ArchDean’s desk at the other and two windows to either
  side, the exterior of the Clock Tower sports four sizable windows. Go figure . . .
  TTHHEE CCOOLLLLEEGGEE OOFF MMEETTAAPPHHYYSSIICCSS BBUUIILLDDIINNGG
  This is the main building for the College of Metaphysics, and the headquar-
  ters of the college’s dean. There are, of course, several other buildings nearby
  which are devoted to Metaphysics classes (though the Alchemy department’s
  The Avant Gardens 
  One of the most pastoral areas on cam-
  pus (if a bit exotic at times), the Avant
  Gardens are the masterwork of an army of
  dedicated Sahudese gardeners (see p. 69).
  They will take offense if anyone damages
  a blade of grass or disturbs a piece of
  white gravel, and go after the miscreants
  with gardening tools, shuriken, katanas
  and dragon-headed flamethrowers.
  Despite the gardeners’ militant
  approach to peace and harmony in nature,
  the Gardens are popular with artists, pho-
  tographers and trysting couples.
  The Avant
  Guardsman 
  Stationed at the heart of the Avant
  Gardens is the Avant Guardsman, a fire-
  breathing dragoon (the product of a thesis
  project of a grad student in Phlogiston
  Chemistry at the turn of the 17th century).
  Generic Buildings 
  Many buildings on campus look alike
  – particularly those assigned to WUSE,
  the College of Metaphysics and the high-
  er-entropy areas of COUP. To aid in mov-
  ing things back in after an explosion and
  building-replacement, the insides are just
  as predictable as the outsides (at least at
  first; there’s no telling what will have
  been added in a few weeks).
  Most buildings on campus are three
  stories high, and have at least one base-
  ment with connections (usually sealed by
  ominously-thick steel doors) into the
  steam tunnels. Roof access is typical.
  Classrooms are on the first and second
  floors, have twenty to twenty-five student
  desks in them, one teacher’s desk and
  about an acre of whiteboard; anywhere
  from thirty to forty human-sized entities
  can fit into a room before the air condi-
  tioning really starts to break down.
  Most chairthings’ offices are also on the
  first floor – there will be one entry-room
  (complete with secretary) which has doors
  into the departmental heads’ private office
  and the center of operations for the depart-
  ment (with coffee machine nook, mailbox-
  es, bulletin board, student records,
  teacher’s records and copying ma-
  chines/enchanted pens/scribes).
  The third floor is usually devoted to
  teachers’ personal offices. Nearly all of
  the schools are short on space, so un-
  tenured professors will be doubled up,
  either timesharing tiny offices or actually
  dividing up a larger one with half-walls.
  In very small – and unprofitable – schools
  or departments, all the teachers and even
  the chairthing may be crammed into the
  same few rooms.
  Continued on next page . . .
  
  73
  PPllaacceess
  building is at the extreme edge of campus, for obvious reasons). This is the only
  building on campus which has withstood numerous explosions in its history
  with little major damage – just a touch of blistered paint, or some doors and
  windows to be replaced.
  This four-story (plus uncounted basement levels) structure is yet another
  example of five-wall architecture, as well as Early Lovecraft decor, complete with
  gargoyles carved to parody various political figures. The odd bas-relief carvings
  on the walls suggest writing, beckoning figures or horrific creatures, depending on
  the time of day and the angle of viewing. Strangely, the Metaphysics building
  always appears to be in shadow, and – even on the clearest nights – a faint mist
  surrounds it after dark. When the entire campus is fog-covered, this can be a real
  traffic hazard.
  TTHHEE LLIIBBRRAARRYY
  This large building with Corinthian pillars appears to be one of the most nor-
  mal buildings on campus, at first glance. It is a large, friendly-looking structure –
  despite the fact that it has no apparent windows – four stories high. Inside, it is very
  large. It initially appears to be a typical modern library, with computer terminals to
  search the catalogs, and neatly-organized, well-marked shelves and books.
  However, the Library has side wings and many floors, which cater to differ-
  ent media. Students venturing into the upper stories of the Library, for instance,
  will discover the microfiche archives, the videotape collection (including the
  section marked, “Restricted – Faculty Only!”), the CD-ROM section, the holo-
  graphic records area and the VR “Stairway of Living History.” (Fright Checks
  are applicable for any unwary student using these stairs to go from one floor to
  another – it doesn’t help that they are prominently marked with an upward-
  pointing arrow labeled “History.” It is rarely pleasant to discover one is standing
  in the middle of the decisive engagement in the Luna Base Civil War and
  Buffet.) For those who dare to take the gravity-lifts higher, ever more exotic
  forms of information storage and retrieval may be found, along with ever more
  exotic Library patrons.
  The Library also extends downwards, and in the levels just above the final sub-
  basements, cuneiform tablets – all neatly filed according to the Dewey Decimal
  System – are stored. Some adventuresome students claim that going further down
  will reveal some striking, though primitive, paintings on the walls. Most agree that
  by the time one is this far down, one is too close to the steam tunnels for comfort.
  Besides, walking down all those stairs in the first place is tiresome.
  Side wings contain books (with Tech Levels appropriate to the floor) on
  Alchemy, Magic, Theology (including 4,762 plus or minus 6.4 copies of the
  Principia Discordia – all different) and one of the few complete collections of
  supermarket tabloids. The last, unfortunately, are occasionally defaced by cryp-
  tic notes in the margins. However, many students browse these damaged copies,
  seeking entries in their professors’ scrawl; one never knows what might provide
  a hint of some juicy blackmail material. “Rock Star Caught in Poolside Fling
  with Mystery Figure,” for instance . . .
  One wing of the Library connects, on the lower levels, to the lower floors of
  the Museum. Which wing is subject to change without notice.
  TTHHEE MMUUSSEEUUMM
  This building is connected underground to the Library, and is also across
  campus, which makes it a good shortcut for students who are late to class.
  (Unfortunately, due to the confusing natures of both buildings, a successful roll
  against Area Knowledge (IOU) is required to avoid being lost for at least as
  Generic Buildings
  (continued)
  The roof is rarely used for teaching or
  office purposes. Most of the time, it merely
  provides a place to sunbathe illicitly, since
  students are not supposed to be loitering
  there. Pigeons, CIA gulls, squirrels and
  COUP students may also defend their terri-
  tory.
  What is found in the basement will
  depend on the building’s residents. If there
  is no sub-basement, then cleaning supplies,
  storage rooms, fuse boxes and other non-
  academic stuff will be there, as will entries
  to the steam tunnels. If there is a sub-base-
  ment, or just enough space left over, there
  may be some overflow from the upper lev-
  els. Classrooms and laboratories (especially
  for classes where sunlight is a problem)
  show up in basements, as do junior faculty
  offices and graduate student carrels. Rooms
  resembling bomb bunkers are also quite
  common, especially in WUSE.
  Supposedly, sub-basements (when pre-
  sent) only contain non-academic parapher-
  nalia. So if a student should happen to find
  interesting locked doors down there, 1) it’s
  not a classroom or office, 2) it probably
  belongs to someone who would be upset if
  it got opened and 3) students shouldn’t be
  down here in the first place.
  Student Scab
  Building 
  This alternative to the Student Union
  was sponsored by a group of anarchists.
  The food is better and cheaper, and the ser-
  vice is better (though the pay is worse for
  the students employed there). The major
  drawback to hanging out at the “Scab” is
  the high likelihood of a food fight escalat-
  ing into a major war. WUSE and
  Metaphysics students are the largest two
  classes of patrons . . .
  Student
  Confederacy
  For the students who seceded from the
  Union. Enough said. Popular with SCA and
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. majors.
  
  PPllaacceess
  74
  long as taking the long way
  would have been.) Both the
  Curator and the Librarian
  frown on this use of their
  domains, and will occasional-
  ly make things more difficult.
  One of the more extensive
  parts of the museum is its
  Knight Gallery, where a star-
  tlingly large number of suits
  of armor are kept – or maybe
  they’re knights in stasis. No
  one’s ever asked. (Twice, any-
  way.) The exhibit starts with a
  tableau that the students call a
  “Knight Court,” but the dis-
  plays quickly become more
  and more disturbing as the
  viewer walks down the
  strangely-twisting corridors of
  the Gallery.
  Of potential use to the
  students are the Flora and
  Fauna Floors, which boast
  plant replicas and stuffed ani-
  mals of many different
  species – including, if you
  know where to look, things
  native only to the campus.
  The little cards in the displays
  which give snippits of infor-
  mation can be invaluable in discovering anything about the more esoteric
  species. (There is a bonus for Research rolls on the topic of Weird Fauna/Flora
  while in the Museum, up to a +3, but critical failures may necessitate a roll
  against Survival (IOU) to avoid getting lost for three days or eaten by a model
  that decided it wanted to be stuffed with food.)
  Other exhibits change periodically according to the Curator’s whim and
  whether or not he can make anything from showing it on tour, or selling it.
  These exhibits range from the harmless, to the useful, to the dangerous. Some
  are enchanted magical items (standard rolls for mages to detect), others are
  cursed and not a few are both – opening the curse-proof display cases is usually
  a bad idea. Also, the Curator definitely disapproves of people “borrowing”
  exhibits, and some remarkably life-like mannequins displaying historical cos-
  tumes bear a startling resemblance to missing students known to have sticky fin-
  gers. COUP majors are strongly warned to stay away from the Museum.
  TTHHEE PPUUBBLLIICC TTOOIILLEETT ((TTEEMMPPOORRAALLLLYY OOSSCCIILLLLAATTIINNGG IINNTTEERRDDIIMMEENNSSIIOONNAALL
  LLIIFFTT WWIITTHH EENNDDOOCCHHRROONNOOSSYYNNCCLLAASSTTIICC TTEENNDDEENNCCIIEESS))
  This structure, seemingly a bright blue portable toilet with a flashing blue
  light atop it, is actually the home and office of Doctor What7, and is far, far big-
  ger on the inside than it appears. On one side is a placard that states this is an
  appropriately marked, authorized, potentially dangerous pocket dimension – in
  six-point type and faded blue ink on faded blue paper.
  Campus Bookstore
  Looking like a miniature version of the
  Library, the Campus Bookstore sells
  paper, pens, pencils, calendars, textbooks,
  lab coats, videotapes and cassette tapes for
  classes (blank or pre-recorded), snacks,
  IOU clothing, IOU bumper stickers, IOU
  umbrellas (especially on rainy days), holi-
  day cards, postcards, envelopes, stamps,
  campus maps (for numerous campuses,
  including IOU) and generally everything
  that a student might need with the sole
  exception of furniture – all in a single
  two-story building.
  Besides the things that are out and
  labeled, the Bookstore sells “pre-written”
  papers and test cheat-sheets, runs student
  betting pools on anything, and serves as a
  go-between for students in search of more
  exotic deals.
  They even buy back used textbooks at
  the end of the semester (provided that the
  books are still readable, and not missing
  any pages), for less than a fifth of what the
  student paid, and only if the book was not
  written by an IOU professor.
  Mysteriously, while all used books
  must be in near-pristine condition to be
  bought, the ones sold always bear distinct
  signs of (mis)use.
  Due to successful lobbying by COUP
  students, the Campus Bookstore is not on
  the free map.
  The Botany Building 
  The Botany department’s building is a
  giant tree, looking something like a 15-
  story oak on steroids (not an unlikely
  explanation, actually). The actual class-
  rooms are rooms or platforms constructed
  on the huge plant’s limbs, with the
  chairthing’s office in a large hollow por-
  tion, about midway up.
  The upper sections of the tree, as well
  as the outer limbs, are too weak to support
  stable classrooms, offices or labs (though
  some of the junior faculty and grad stu-
  dents occupy rooms that sway alarmingly
  in windy weather). The unused areas are
  popular hiding places for students looking
  for a quiet, out-of-the-way corner for a lit-
  tle dalliance, or just a good ambush spot.
  This is somewhat hazardous, however,
  because these areas are also inhabited by
  the tree’s dryad population (see p. 88).
  Students can get to class by climbing
  ladders or taking the open cargo elevator
  built against the side of the tree. There is a
  small door at the base, among the roots,
  leading into the Botany department’s
  cave-like laboratories. The building-tree
  itself is tended here, and its roots come
  through the earthen ceiling to rest in huge
  vats filled with strange concoctions.
  (Rumors of human sacrifices here are
  probably due to the hyperactive imagina-
  tions of Hysteria majors.) This is one of
  the few buildings with no known connec-
  tions to the steam tunnels.
  
  Solar Power Plant 
  One of the Botany department’s finest
  creations, this 15-story-tall sunflower per-
  petually blooms at one end of campus. It
  is hooked up to a bioelectrical converter,
  and produces about 30 megawatts during
  sunny days. Unfortunately, every spring it
  also produces a great deal of pollution in
  the form of pollen grains the size of bas-
  ketballs, and the Botany department has
  been told that it must “control emissions”
  or the Solar Power Plant will be chopped
  down and used for fertilizer. (You don’t
  want to ask what pollinates the Plant . . .)
  At the base of the plant is the
  University’s other power plant – a 150
  MW fission breeder reactor. (The radia-
  tion from the reactor may have something
  to do with the size of the solar plant.)
  Cooling water from the reactor is cycled
  through ancient pipes to some unknown
  destination deep in the steam tunnels.
  Radioactive cooling water hardly ever
  escapes into the campus water supply.
  WUSE has been agitating to replace
  the antique fission plant with a modern
  fusion reactor, but so far, the Administra-
  tion has refused to spend the money
  required. Some WUSE professors have
  speculated that someone in the Adminis-
  tration has found a market for nuclear
  waste, or bomb-grade plutonium.
  Croesus Ilumni
  Center
  The only building on campus that
  looks like it might have been specified by
  a 1920s hotel designer with an unlimited
  bank account, or Louis XIV on a big bud-
  get, the Croesus Ilumni Center is luxuri-
  ous, opulent and ostentatious. It also con-
  tains the second highest concentration of
  Bimbiras and Kajones on campus (the
  Performing Arts Center is number one).
  The kitchen is staffed by four-star chefs,
  and the dining room is a frequent lunch
  spot for campus notables. Besides the
  guest suites and the dining room, the
  Center features a wide variety of recre-
  ational and entertainment facilities, all
  designed to encourage sybaritic Ilumni to
  sign large checks while they’re in good
  moods. The more irreverent students on
  campus – most of them, actually – refer to
  the Croesus Center as “Xanadu House.”
  Along with the expensive furniture and
  enough art to fill the Metropolitan Museum
  (from which some of it was “borrowed,” as
  COUP thesis projects), the Center is filled
  with hidden cameras and microphones.
  Fortunately, former students are used to
  that sort of thing, though it does increase
  the average Ilumni donation a bit. You get
  what you pay for, and vice versa . . .
  The TOILET moves around the campus, seemingly at random, but can usually
  be found in the middle of a wide stretch of greenery next to a sign reading, “Keep
  off the Grass!” It is always locked, but knocking can sometimes summon one of
  the C.T.H.U.L.H.U. Deans – especially if one is so fortunate as to catch him during
  his office hours (which are usually sometime during the Cretaceous Era).
  MMAADDAAMMEE SSAALLOOMMEE’’SS PPEERRFFOORRMMIINNGG AARRTTSS CCEENNTTEERR
  No good university would be without a theater to stage drama, musical per-
  formances and dance. IOU’s Performing Arts Center – named for a particularly
  successful Ilumnus who graduated at the top of the Class of ’35 – has a dozen
  theaters, most of them quite small and intimate, used mainly for experimental
  audience-participation performances. Two theaters are large enough to seat an
  audience of nearly a thousand people (or whatever). All of them feature up-to-
  date sound systems, video production facilities and an extensive assortment of
  stage sets and props. Some of them also have support for impressive special
  effects, normally designed and executed by WUSE and Metaphysics students
  with an interest in theater (or at least SPCA majors).
  The University is proud of the success of its performers – nearly every
  showing of every production is sold out, thanks to the art lovers in the student
  body, faculty and even the surrounding towns. (The Center even has convenient
  parking for tour buses in the back.) SPCA often has five or even six different
  productions running at once, and usually offers at least four performances per
  day of each, to meet the high demand. Needless to say, most of SPCA’s profits
  come from the gate at Madame Salome’s (as the PAC is affectionately known to
  students and Ilumni).
  Many of the Bimbiras (see p. 87) and Kajones (p. 89) work here – in fact
  this is the highest concentration on campus.
  DDOORRMMSS
  There are a dozen or so dorms on campus, mostly catering to the under-
  classthings – older and wiser students generally find apartments, share houses or
  nest in old refrigerator cartons off campus. Rooms range from tramp-freighter
  steerage accommodations to palatial suites filled with fine art, expensive stereos
  and Jacuzzis.
  Sometimes the same room will vary from one end of the scale to the other,
  depending, for example, on how recently the student has paid an installment on
  his tuition (and how big a bribe was included for the ArchDean). Some teachers
  and deans are also able to influence the appearance of students’ quarters. More
  of them can influence the building utilities.
  75
  PPllaacceess
  
  PPllaacceess
  76
  Most of the dorms are named after esteemed – or more likely, generous –
  Ilumni. The name is often a clue to the type of accommodations: the de Sade
  and Torquemada dorms are to be avoided at all costs, while the Louis the XIVth
  dorm is highly sought-after. The Faustus dorm is somewhere in between,
  depending on what kind of deal you make with Housing Services. Freshthings
  are generally housed in the multi-story Monty Hall. See the Major Dorms side-
  bar on p. 9, for brief overviews of some of the more important dorms.
  BBOORRGGIIAA CCEENNTTEERR
  The main dining hall for on-campus students is located conveniently near
  the dorms. (Some student wags claim this is so the cafeteria staff has ready
  access to the paper recycling bins in the dorms, as a source of “nutritious fiber.”)
  A large, low building, Borgia Center is subdivided into four cavernous dining
  areas, with a huge central kitchen serving all four. The four halls are open at dif-
  ferent times, and no student has ever been able to discern a pattern to the sched-
  ule – much less a reason for it.
  When the dining halls are open, students have the privilege of standing in
  long lines for 20 or so minutes. (This is always just long enough to ensure that
  they will have a maximum of 37 seconds to eat before they risk being late to
  their next class.) After this exercise in patience, the lucky diner then participates
  in the hallowed University ritual, The Viewing of the Food. Early students get a
  choice of two or three entrees, along with side dishes ranging from mummified
  peas to polymerized mashed potatoes. Borgia Center specializes in “hot cuisine”
  – apparently on the theory that enough pepper and chili powder will kill any
  bacteria that can actually survive in the food.
  A Survival (IOU) skill roll will allow selection of a minimum amount of
  food to sustain life without also threatening it. The Gluttony disadvantage gives
  a -4 penalty; it can be fatal here! On a failed Survival roll, the diner must make a
  HT roll; on a success, the student survives with nothing more than cramps, a
  failure results in the loss of 1 HT and -1 to all IQ and DX-based skills for the
  rest of the day, a critical failure permits the student to wake up the next morning
  in Lazarus Health Center. Smart (i.e., survival-oriented) students avoid eating
  here entirely, instead patronizing the hot-dog pushcarts on campus, or snatching
  quick meals off-campus. Mundanes bring homemade bag lunches.
  Students late in line are faced with the leavings, normally the most danger-
  ous choices, and are likely to become late students – all Survival (IOU) and HT
  rolls are at a cumulative -1 for each 10 minutes since the dining room opened
  for the meal. Cast Iron Stomach negates any chance of difficulties, though only
  Anosmia – No Sense of Taste or Smell – will permit the diner to enjoy the
  experience.
  The best use for the food is as missile weapons – some of it is deadlier than
  a tac-nuke hand grenade. Not to mention more radioactive.
  A Typical IOU Meal 
  Appetizers
  Buffalo-style small animal limbs
  Dehydrated carrot sticks
  Hard tack
  Entrees
  Meat loaf (don’t ask what kind of
  meat)
  Cheese and cardboard pizza
  Something foreign with rice and small
  bits of unidentifiable rubber-like
  substances
  Fried squid in pureed zucchini sauce
  Side dishes
  Potatoes mashed with powdered lime-
  stone
  Pureed eggplant
  Peas (suspiciously edible)
  Vermincelli
  Toast (radioactive)
  Desserts
  Assorted fruit (slightly glowing)
  Brownies (hard tack with brown paint)
  Chocolate Bombe (only explosive
  when digested)
  Dried prunes
  Rainbow gelatin
  Lawyer torte
  Beverages
  Soft drinks (98% caffeine)
  Coffee with sludge
  Fluoridated water
  Reconstituted powdered milk
  Rutabaga juice
  Maiham Stadium and
  the Sports Complex 
  Mindful of the profit opportunities in
  sporting events, the University has devot-
  ed a great deal of money and space to
  such activities. The Maiham Stadium
  (used primarily for meepsball, but also
  football, horse racing and gladiatorial
  bouts) is the most obvious, but IOU also
  has fields for baseball and soccer, fencing
  sallés, vollynuke bunkers, basketball
  courts, indoor and outdoor swimming
  pools, an ice-rink, jousting lists and even
  zero-gravity shuffleboard courts.
  
  77
  PPllaacceess
  Students are not encouraged to wander into the kitchen areas. Besides the
  need to make a Fright Check (at -10!), there are other hazards to entering the
  cooks’ domain. Most “lost” students turn up the next morning in the Health
  Center, often missing a few body parts. Health inspectors routinely disappear,
  never to be heard from again. (Though the next day’s “Surprise Special Entree”
  is usually roast pork . . .) COUP students sometimes sneak into Borgia Center
  late at night, looking for sources of exotic new poisons or biological weapons.
  Borgia Center is one of the few places where the steam tunnels are open into a
  building. Most tunnel rats have learned to avoid the place, though. (Perhaps this
  evolutionary pressure is one reason why the tunnel rats are so intelligent.)
  THE STEAM TUNNELS
  (And you thought you’d never use your old dungeon modules in a GURPS
  game . . .)
  The steam tunnels extend for miles (long and deep) beneath the IOU cam-
  pus and the surrounding areas. They are said to lead to natural caves, forgotten
  bomb shelters, subways, abandoned underground kingdoms, huge complexes of
  humans who have never seen the light of day and the occasional University-
  style building that was somehow thrust beneath the earth. Besides steam pipes,
  sewer pipes, water pipes, high-voltage electrical conduits and pipes ominously
  labeled “coffee recycling,” the tunnels contain, at the least, the infamous tunnel
  rats (p. 90). Other, less speakable, things also crawl, slither or fly through the
  dank passageways beneath the campus. It is rumored that there is even a sub-
  species of meep (p. 89) that thrives in the darkness, breeding deceptively cute
  offspring and kidnapping the unwary passer-by for unknown – but doubtless
  ghastly – purposes.
  Technically, exploring in the tunnels is not permitted, and violators could be
  suspended or otherwise inconvenienced. Practically, Campus Security wouldn’t
  go anywhere near the steam tunnels (and open hatchways into them count),
  instead relying on the natural dangers of the tunnels as a deterrent. If they do
  find an open tunnel entrance, they just close it up and leave a few guards on
  duty to shoot anything that tries to come out. They could, of course, be ordered
  into the tunnels.
  Sensible students (if there are any at IOU) avoid the steam tunnels – the
  only reason not to being that the tunnels extend all over campus, with hidden or
  bricked-over entrances into most buildings, and are probably not monitored.
  And despite their reputation, some of the near-surface passages are only mildly
  dangerous . . . most of the time.
  University
  Regulation of
  Pocket Dimensions 
  Many of the faculty and staff at IOU
  literally do live in worlds of their own (at
  least when they go home after work) and
  some of them prefer an easy commute: an
  on-campus gate into their personal uni-
  verses. However, improper warning-sym-
  bols and security precautions can result in
  hapless freshthings stumbling into unat-
  tended pocket dimensions and getting lost
  – sometimes permanently, which means
  they don’t pay tuition any more.
  Unfortunately, despite the fuss associ-
  ated with finding little freshthing skele-
  tons in the lower basements of one’s
  other-dimensional home, few owners of
  private universes get around to making
  sure the incident doesn’t happen again.
  Therefore, the University regulations were
  amended to require appropriate markings,
  warning symbols and security systems on
  all unmarked and potentially dangerous
  pocket dimensions.
  If an unmarked gateway is discovered
  on-campus, a note will be delivered – per-
  sonally, if the owner can be found, but
  slipped into the gate otherwise – giving
  the residents a reasonable amount of time
  (at least three minutes) to comply with
  University regulations. If the owners don’t
  fix the matter, the reaction is for Campus
  Security to move the gateway to a large,
  open field . . . and “unfold” it. This
  involves turning it inside out and dumping
  the contents helter-skelter onto the
  ground. (For very large unauthorized per-
  sonal worlds, a permit may be issued for
  the creation of a pocket dimension to
  unfold the unauthorized one into.)
  A private universe is properly marked
  if it has a hazard symbol and permit
  prominently displayed somewhere around
  its entrance. See The Public TOILET (p.
  74) for an example of a properly marked,
  potentially dangerous pocket dimension.
  It should be noted that Clueless stu-
  dents believe that the ArchDean’s larger-
  than-plausible office is a pocket dimen-
  sion, and is unmarked. More sophisticated
  students – or ones with a high Survival
  (IOU) skill – understand that the little
  plaque reading “ArchDean” at the door is
  warning enough . . .
  
  PPllaacceess
  78
  THE TOWN
  The town surrounding IOU – though tactical analyses favor
  the campus, five-to-one – is a mostly quiet, mostly mundane
  city with more important things on its collective mind than a
  few rowdy college students. (A lot of rowdy college students,
  or ones with military-grade weapons will attract some notice,
  however.)
  Areas near the campus cater to the needs of the University
  and its denizens, but once you get a mile or so off-campus,
  you’re back in Mundania. Students should remember when
  going off-campus that a) the reality-stabilizer fields don’t
  extend outside the ivy walls of IOU, b) most of Earth is a low-
  mana zone and c) there are a lot of Mundanes out there . . .
  PPYYRRAAMMIIDD MMAALLLL
  Pyramid Mall is a 23-story (at least on the inside) pyramid
  of aluminum, glass and steel, containing a branch of every
  known chain store (including some unique to this mall).
  Besides 179 stores specializing in overpriced yuppie clothing,
  42 shoe stores and 57 “gift” stores (most of which have no
  business and are probably Illuminati fronts), the mall features a
  number of stores specializing in more esoteric merchandise,
  including magical supplies, antique and arcane books and pro-
  peller beanies. The mall’s advertising boast, “Everything Under
  One Roof,” is surprisingly accurate, other than the technical
  detail that pyramids don’t really have roofs. Or maybe they’re
  all roof . . . whatever.
  This is where everyone who is anyone goes to shop. So
  does everybody who is nobody, for that matter. It is a prime
  source of student jobs – in the food court, as sales clerks in the
  stores or as janitorial staff to clean up after the mall-rat kids
  (too many of whom are, like, total Valley Girls from a grotty
  timewarp or something).
  The mall is also a prime source of stuff that students need,
  from clothes to nifty toys to jewelry to electronics to New Age
  crystals to powdered bat toes. As another of its mottos states,
  “Pyramid Mall has it all.” Of course, it has it at mall prices,
  which are always inflated ten to fifty percent.
  The mall’s management is composed of several Ilumni, and
  they keep a SWAT team of COUP graduates on the payroll to
  deal with things that regular Mall Security (who are much more
  sedentary than Campus Security, though otherwise indistin-
  guishable) can’t handle – such as rampaging students.
  Since Pyramid Mall is the mall to visit in the area, non-
  locals often shop here. The management frowns severely upon
  anything that would cause customers (especially these non-
  locals, who generally have Mundane Background) to avoid the
  mall, and will deal with troublemakers by eviction, firing or
  asking Pyramid Mall’s silent partner to have a talk with the
  offenders. Being summoned to the ArchDean’s office to
  explain why they threw a fireball at the mall’s Automatic
  Teller Machine is usually sufficient to keep students from
  repeat offenses.
  
  79
  PPllaacceess
  Despite the number of Mundanes (and mundanes) who visit the mall, the
  place has similarities to the IOU campus – maze-like hallways, a tendency for
  doors to open into other dimensions, connections with the steam tunnels, areas
  that appear and vanish again for various reasons and the occasional confused
  shopper who thought this was the Galleria . . . It is also a high-mana zone, per-
  haps due to “pyramid power.” Students are advised against getting locked in, or
  prowling the “Authorized Personnel Only” hallways. GMs may wish to add
  Area Knowledge (Pyramid Mall) and possibly Survival (Pyramid Mall) to the
  campaign’s skill list.
  UUnniivveerrssiittyy HHeeiigghhttss 
  This quiet residential district is where many of the IOU faculty live. Little
  disturbs the peaceful neighborhood, and its scenic splendor is carefully main-
  tained by private gardeners.
  The highly anomalous peace and quiet is enhanced by the fact that most of
  the residents are University faculty, and therefore will take great steps (one
  might even call their reactions “overkill”) to keep their homes untroubled.
  Students are not advised to drive through here at three in the morning with their
  stereos blaring, even if their vehicle could hit 90 MPH in five seconds. It would
  only put a few more craters in the road before the inevitable finale.
  Sadly, even University Heights can display strife – usually when budget
  meetings are hot or a large faculty bloodfeud is in progress – turning the attrac-
  tive houses and lawns into fortified citadels and minefields, sporting laser turrets
  and machine guns. But when the disagreement has been settled, things quickly
  return to their original pristine condition.
  It should be noted that, for whatever reasons of her own, the ArchDean does
  not live at University Heights, preferring to dwell within sumptuous apartments
  in her own Main Building.
  More Off-Campus
  Sites of Interest
  IOU Industrial Park
  Just west of campus, and nearly an
  extension of it, are the inevitable high-
  tech corporations that leech graduates and
  ideas from the University, especially
  WUSE. Many professors have high-pay-
  ing consulting jobs with these companies,
  or even control them. IOU owns the land
  and buildings in the industrial park, rent-
  ing or leasing the space to an endless pro-
  cession of startup companies and estab-
  lished giants that wish to benefit from a
  symbiotic (or parasitic) relationship with
  the University. IOU derives considerable
  revenue from the park, and it provides
  many student jobs, including practical, on-
  the-job training for COUP students spe-
  cializing in industrial espionage.
  The Elephants’ Junkyard 
  This is the popular title for the town’s
  dump – considering the nature of the
  University and Ilumni, lots of really nifty
  things get thrown away and carted out
  here. Fortunately for would-be scav-
  engers, most of the good stuff is dumped
  by specially-sealed trucks, and doesn’t get
  mixed in with the mundane garbage like
  eggshells, coffee grounds or old kids’
  shoes. Unfortunately for those same scav-
  engers, the rare and esoteric things they
  seek will be mixed in with University
  cafeteria scraps, departmental coffee
  grounds and the occasional unidentifiable
  biological remains. Gas-masks, suitable
  armor, and weaponry are recommended.
  Pancho Sanza’s 
  This Mexican-food establishment is
  located just outside of campus, and caters
  mostly to the student crowd – this means
  that it serves substantial meals for reason-
  able prices, and has a most astonishing
  variety of dishes listed on its menu
  (Chocolate Meep Burritos, for example).
  For the more conservative, it serves sim-
  ple burgers and salads. It also has a well-
  stocked bar, a large private function room
  (for celebrating seniors, private parties,
  secret conspiracy meetings and the like)
  and absolutely lousy parking. But it’s
  within walking distance of campus, serves
  good food and never seems to close.
  The decor is Modern Guerrilla
  Warfare, with the wait-things dressed in
  camo outfits and carrying AK-47s; this
  ensures few complaints and heavy tipping.
  This is another good place for students
  to get part-time jobs as wait-things, though
  it should be noted that having the Guns
  skill is required – “Generalissimo” Sanza
  takes his food seriously and has been
  known to call for a firing squad if one of
  the cooks creates something too inedible.
  
  PPllaacceess
  80
  Distance covered in 5 minutes
  Visitor
  IIlllluummiinnaattii UUnniivveerrssiittyy
  CCaammppuuss MMaapp
  $5.00
  Dean
  Freshthing
  Sophomore
  Junior
  Senior
  Gradthing
  Associate
  Professor
  Tenured
  Professor
  NN
  Faculty and Visitor Parking
  Library Parking
  Stadium Parking
  Dorm
  Parking
  FFuulliiggaann PPaarrkkiinngg
  LLoott
  ((SSttuuddeenntt PPaarrkkiinngg))
  Faculty
  and
  Staff
  Parking
  PPyyrraammiidd AAvveennuuee
  ““DDrruunnkkaarrdd’’ss WWaallkk””
  TToo PPyyrraammiidd MMaallll ((22mmii..))
  CCrrooeesseeuuss
  lllluummnnii
  CCeenntteerr
  MMuusseeuumm
  Barnum
  LLaazzaarruuss
  HHeeaalltthh
  CCeenntteerr
  Student
  Union
  Mephisto Hall
  Founder’s Statue
  MMaaiinn BBuuiillddiinngg
  Fountain
  TThhee PPeenntt
  Clock           Tower 
  AAvvaanntt GGaarrddeennss
  A
  α
  β
  γ
  Ω
  B
  C
  ΑΩΠ
  ΒΧΝ
  ΣΕΧ
  ΡΕΖ
  ∆Y∆
  D
  SSttuuddeenntt
  CCoonnffeeddeerraaccyy
  TOILET
  MMaaddaammee
  SSaalloommee’’ss
  PPeerrffoorrmmiinngg
  AArrttss CCeenntteerr
  Liberty
  Hall
  Escher
  Library
  tkm
  Esteban
  Monopoly Hall
  Smith
  Danica
  Smedstad
  Lud
  Koke
  John
  Schroeck
  Alchemy
  Murphy Hall
  Louis XVI
  de Sade
  Jackson Hall
  Pearcy
  Wilson
  Torquemada
  Butler
  Monty
  Hall
  Borgia
  Center
  Faustus
  Blankenship
  What Hal
  Nixon
  Pinonneault
  Jones
  Haring
  Doe
  Maiham
  Stadium
  Botany
  Sports
  HHeeaassddeedd
  GGyymm
  SSttuuddeenntt
  SSccaabb
  Brienza
  Slocum
  Lilith
  IIOOUU IInndduussttrriiaall PPaarrkk
  DDoorrmmss
  SSoocciiaall AAnnttii--SScciieenncceess
  Frat Row
  DDoorrmmss
  PPoowweerr
  PPllaannttss
  CCoolllleeggee ooff MMeettaapphhyyssiiccss
  WWUUSSEE
  SScchhooooll ooff
  CCoonnsseerrvvaattiivvee
  AArrttss
  CC..TT..HH..UU..LL..HH..UU..
  CCoolllleeggee ooff
  CCoommmmuunniiccaattiioonnss
  CCOOUUPP
  SSPPCCAA
  
  81
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  T
  roll-toll!” the evil monstrosity bellowed, standing in the middle of the
  bridge. It was huge, brandished a very large club and had a stench that was
  even worse than the mess the Cafeteria had burnt last week.
  Loriel pulled out her bow and strung it casually. Marcus shifted his sword to
  his left hand, freeing his right for spellcasting. The rest of the group readied their
  various weapons as the troll charged toward them. Each footfall shook like thunder
  and the bridge shuddered violently.
  “
  
  Listed here is a small sample of the gadgets in use around
  campus, and also some products of long-ago thesis projects,
  locked away in storage rooms deep under the WUSE buildings.
  The latter are protected by nervous patrols from Campus
  Security and signs reading “Authorized Personnel Only –
  Beware of Mutants,” which generations of scavenging grad stu-
  dents have carefully left behind on the shreds of the doors they
  once guarded.
  For rules about operating strange devices notably lacking in
  documentation, see Alien Tech, p. 109.
  MMAATTTTEERR,, AANNTTII--MMAATTTTEERR AANNDD DDOOEESSNN’’TT--MMAATTTTEERR
  Ordinary matter makes up most of the universe (and even
  the University). There is also antimatter, which makes up really
  large explosions when mixed with the universe (and is therefore
  banned on campus). University scientists have discovered a
  third kind of mass, which doesn’t interact violently with either
  matter or antimatter, and so has been named “doesn’t-matter.”
  (Some WUSE cosmologists hypothesize that this third type of
  matter makes up the so-called “missing mass” in the universe.
  Others argue that it was simply stolen by one of the Precursor
  races, as a practical joke.)
  Doesn’t-matter has a great many peculiar properties which
  make it useful in Weird Science projects. Gadgets employing
  doesn’t-matter can achieve astounding effects, some of which
  may even have been intended by the designer. A few gadgets
  even consume doesn’t-matter as fuel, which can make them dif-
  ficult to keep operating – you can’t just stop at the local gas sta-
  tion for ten gallons of premium doesn’t-matter!
  In certain circumstances, doesn’t-matter can be “van-
  ished” – under sufficient stress, it apparently squirts out of
  normal space, sometimes taking normal matter with it. This
  property of doesn’t-matter may also explain why socks tend to
  disappear in the dryer – nylon and rayon actually include
  miniscule amounts of doesn’t-matter. (These are the only
  known natural sources, in fact. Which may also account for
  suddenly vanishing socks – they were stolen by WUSE grad
  students on scrounging expeditions.)
  BBRRAAIINNDDUUMMPPIINNGG MMAACCHHIINNEESS
  A problem with some of the resurrection methods on cam-
  pus is that they produce clones with no memories of their “for-
  mer” existence. While this does mean the students have to take
  all their classes again, they also require toilet training, and that’s
  more hassle than it’s worth. So the University plays memory-
  recordings into mind-blank clones. How does it get these
  recordings? Via braindumps.
  Braindumping machines (similar to braintaping devices,
  see GURPS Ultra-Tech, p. 65) are scattered throughout the
  campus, typically built into doorways and the walls of dorm
  rooms. When a student – or anyone else with University Health
  Insurance – walks through a door, his, her or its memories are
  scanned and dumped into storage. It is unfortunate but true that
  with all the students passing through doorways at one time,
  braindumps tend to be fairly superficial, hastily compressed
  and occasionally mislaid in THE computer’s databanks. The
  leisurely braindumps made in dorm rooms while the student is
  asleep are more reliable. (This means that people waking up in
  the Infirmary, depending on the version of reanimation used,
  can expect to remember the last day clearly, while the last few
  hours or so will be a bit fuzzy, and they may have to re-cram
  for tests.)
  Individuals who do not live on campus will be encouraged
  to accept a braindumping device, which usually looks like a pair
  of light headphones connected to a flat slab of electronics that
  takes up all the room under the typical twin-sized bed. (Exactly
  what this “space waster” is may or may not be explained.)
  Braindumps can also be made from dead bodies, if you
  have the equipment and the body still has an intact brain.
  Someone who is awakened using post-demise memory record-
  ings will remember his death and how much it hurt – along with
  any afterlife experiences – and should make a Will roll or suffer
  an appropriate new mental disadvantage for several months to a
  year (or permanently, on a critical failure!). Phobias about the
  fatal incident or serious flashbacks to it under stress (requiring a
  periodic Fright Check) are both common results.
  Generally, braindump records cannot be used on someone
  else’s clone or serious mental aberrations will occur, eventually
  resulting in the complete nervous breakdown of the misplaced
  personality. Of course, if the Infirmary personnel can be con-
  vinced to swap the minds of a boyfriend-girlfriend pair for a
  weekend, most of the bad effects can be avoided and the experi-
  ence can be lots of fun. (Such unstable creations will have the
  IQ and mental characteristics of the personality, and the physi-
  cal stats of the body – however, psi and magery are usually
  associated with the body at IOU!)
  Some students might be tempted to cheat on exams by hav-
  ing someone else (hopefully more competent) swapped into
  their bodies. However, the general unpleasantness of the experi-
  ence, the possibility that Student Health Services might subse-
  quently mix up the two students’ records and the substantial
  bribes required to have the procedure done, all serve as deter-
  rents. Also, many students are unaware of the existence of
  Swomi fished a long, thin tube out of the golf bag slung across
  her back. Raising it to her shoulder, she shouted “Fore” and
  pushed the doorbell button dangling from one end. With a
  whoosh, the photon torpedo (human-portable version) took the
  troll in the chest. There was a flash of white light and a very loud
  explosion, and when the greasy smoke cleared, the troll was gone.
  So, unfortunately, was the bridge.
  As the others turned and glared at her, the physics major
  shrugged. “My project from Dr. Jones’ Military Physics 403:
  Tactical Overkill.”
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  82
  TECH LEVEL IOU
  
  braindump records at all – the doctors at the Lazarus Health
  Center never explain what they’re doing, or why. (“You’re alive
  – don’t worry about how!”)
  CCAAMMPPUUSS RREEAALLIITTYY SSTTAABBIILLIIZZEERRSS
  These devices, which resemble giant electrical transform-
  ers, keep the campus intact through major timestream disasters,
  unauthorized terraforming, planetary vaporization and similar
  crises. Anything off-campus is subject to change without
  notice.
  A few of the buildings have individual reality stabilizers,
  which keep things fairly sensible for that building, while others
  (especially in the English Department and School of
  Conservative Arts) rely on the large number of Mundane stu-
  dents they teach. But the rest of the campus depends on the
  larger, general purpose stabilizers which are set into the wall
  around the campus at precise, though irregular, intervals that
  were determined to give the best coverage and protection by a
  committee composed of the deans of WUSE, the College of
  Metaphysics, COUP and C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  Tampering with the reality stabilizers is generally consid-
  ered a very bad idea, and most sentient denizens of the
  University will try to stop such an attempt – even if they have
  their own plans about altering reality, they are aware that too
  many strange experiments are going on every minute, which
  might mess things up before the stabilizers could be repaired.
  An interesting side-effect of the reality stabilizers is that
  time-traveling to the future while on University grounds invokes
  the Observer Effect – anything observed in the future will come
  to pass, exactly as the traveler saw it happen. So if someone
  wants to see what the stock market is doing three weeks from
  now, and discovers a newspaper saying the University is broke
  because of a stock crash – well, that newspaper will be printed.
  Or if he discovers that a giant lizard is going to step on his
  dorm, it will happen . . . Which does not prohibit people from
  getting around a known future by printing false newspapers, or
  replacing entire dorms with Hollywood set-pieces!
  Note that visions of the future received via Divination
  spells or psionic Precognition are not as restricted, since they’re
  usually more symbolic and subject to interpretation anyway.
  Also, future-travel while off-campus (and therefore out of range
  of the reality stabilizers) is not subject to the Observer Effect;
  the character merely travels to the most likely future, which he
  can later change by his actions when he returns to the present.
  (If GMs thrive on paradoxes, the campus reality stabilizers
  may – like many Weird Tech items – have occasional glitches,
  permitting students to alter the past on-campus just a little. These
  alterations may have interesting consequences, of course . . .)
  IOU reality stabilizers are only vaguely related to the TL16
  Reality Stabilizer in GURPS Ultra-Tech (p. UT116).
  DDIIMMEENNSSIIOONNAALL GGAATTEESS
  Other dimensions are an ever-popular thesis and research
  topic in WUSE, so it’s probably no surprise that there are
  dozens, if not hundreds, of discarded research projects in WUSE
  basements that open gates, portals and pet doors into other
  dimensions – the stranger, the better. Some of these gadgets still
  have batteries, or gasoline, or moldy rutabagas to power them,
  and the frequent explosions in the area tend to bump the ON
  switches once in a while . . .
  The shapes and sizes of dimensional gate generators are as
  varied as the theories they were built to prove. Some resemble
  simple tuning forks, while others look like flashlights, boom
  boxes, VCR remote controls, toasters, computer terminals or
  abstract sculpture (that one was built by an SPCA/WUSE dou-
  ble major). Then there are the ones that look just like the
  replacement doors kept stocked in every WUSE basement. (For
  some reason, doors are a frequent casualty of the scientific
  process at IOU.)
  MMIINNIIAATTUURRIIZZEERR
  This huge device, looking something like a gigantic
  meat-grinder, was once the pride and joy of some forgotten
  tenured professor. Unfortunately, the professor went on to
  bigger and better things, and left it in the basement, sans
  instruction booklet.
  Fortunately (?), the Miniaturizer has fairly clear labels, and
  its purpose and use can easily be deciphered. It has to be
  plugged into building power, and will cause a momentary
  brown-out in the building when operated. Anything within the
  area of effect will be shrunk by the selected amount – from 50%
  to 10% of its previous size. This includes living creatures. It
  should be noted that the area of effect is not inside the bell-
  shaped compartment on top – that’s where the operator is sup-
  posed to sit and observe from! – but is a three-hex-wide area
  next to, and slightly in front of, the controls.
  The effects of the Miniaturizer may wear off for biological
  beings after three days, if a HT roll is made. Inanimate objects (or
  non-organic PCs) must be brought back to the Miniaturizer and re-
  sized. This is not an easy thing to figure out, since making things
  go back to their original size was a very late afterthought on the
  inventor’s part. In fact, PCs might want to try this outside . . .
  PPOO--PPEEEELL AARRTTIIFFAACCTT
  This TL15 artifact, left on Earth by the enigmatic Po-Peel
  Precursor race, appears to be some sort of high-tech pistol –
  though the vast number of miniscule controls and small fold-out
  projections make its purpose and operation difficult to deter-
  mine. In fact, the artifact is not a weapon at all, but a compact
  sport-fishing device. Besides functioning as a poor fly-casting
  rod (-2 to Fishing skill), it includes attachments that not only
  scale fish, but automatically fillet and deep-fry them. It can also
  adapt to a wide variety of different aquatic prey, providing an
  assortment of fishing gear, from the built-in mini-harpoon with
  tractor beam, to nerve poisons, surface-to-water missiles and
  tac-nuke depth charges.
  Besides its primary functions, it includes auxiliary devices
  such as a sonar fish locator, a nutritional compatibility analyzer
  (tuned to the Po-Peel, unfortunately, who think that meals go bet-
  ter with hydrogen sulfide), a 4,000-entry holographic cookbook
  83
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  
  of fish recipes, and, for those fishermen who lack a handy water-
  world to fish on, complete terraforming and genetic engineering
  attachments.
  RREESSUURRRREECCTTAATTRROONN
  This device is found in the Lazarus Health Center, down in
  the sub-basement. It is one of the ways that the University avoids
  paying student health insurance claims (and losing tuition). The
  Resurrectatron is a mad-scientist’s playground of conveyor belts,
  choppers, bubbling retorts, shredders, sparking Jacob’s Ladders,
  grinders, steam whistles, flywheels and control consoles filled
  with flashing lights. On one wall is a prominent sign reading:
  “Warning: Operation by Authorized Personnel Only!”
  Despite all the stage-dressing (originally intended to
  impress potential investors), the Resurrectatron is a simple
  cloning device, which can reconstitute a living body from a
  small genetic sample. A completed clone is ready within a few
  minutes to a few hours, depending on the amount of original
  material available. Memories are optional, and require a brain-
  dump record (see p. 82).
  Operation of the machine requires Physician/TL9 and
  Electronics Operation (Medical)/TL9 skill rolls to make sure the
  genetic sample is pure and not contaminated by unwanted mate-
  rial. If such care is not taken, the resulting body may not be
  quite what the doctor ordered . . .
  Due to the frequent demands placed on Student Health
  Services, many laboratory procedures are performed by poorly-
  trained pre-med students who get paid according to the number
  of patients they work on. Naturally, their work is always of the
  highest quality, and they aren’t authorized to operate the
  Resurrectatron in any case.
  SSUUPPEERRDDUUPPLLIICCAATTOORR
  “The ultimate copying machine”
  A copying machine the size of a small elephant, the
  SuperDuplicator can copy anything, including people. Beside
  collating, stapling, binding, enlarging and reducing, the
  SuperDuplicator also includes special computer image process-
  ing hardware that actually makes the duplicate better than the
  original. But you have to figure out how to use the controls –
  approximately an acre of walls covered with dials, blinking
  lights, knobs, levers and keyboards. A well-trained operator can
  actually duplicate a dead body and bring the copy back to life.
  There are only a few things the SuperDuplicator won’t
  copy. First, it won’t make copies of pieces of itself – you get a
  neon-orange sign reading “NO PATENT VIOLATIONS,”
  instead. It also seems to be singularly incapable of replicating
  objects of significant value. In fact, when this is tried, the origi-
  nal disappears . . . Finally, copying enchanted items or alchemi-
  cal elixirs results in an apparent success, but the duplicate has
  no magical properties whatsoever.
  Operating the SuperDuplicator requires Electronics
  Operation (Matter transmitter)/TL15 skill.
  TTHHEE CCOOMMPPUUTTEERR
  While there are many computer terminals around IOU, they
  are all hooked into THE computer. Even TEMPEST-hardened
  personal machines will eventually be drawn into the campus net-
  work. The Dean of WUSE is generally responsible for mainte-
  nance of THE computer. Rumors that THE computer is sentient
  are probably true, but the rumors that it’s deranged are hopefully
  exaggerated.
  The actual location of THE computer – or, rather, its main
  CPU, as it runs on many, many individual machines – is
  unknown. Most students assume that it is in a specially shielded
  bunker below one of the sturdier WUSE buildings. Some claim
  that it is physically accessible through hidden routes in the steam
  tunnels, but few students wish to trek through those just to get a
  good grade in something. (Most of the WUSE majors would
  much rather try and crack their professors’ security, anyway; it’s
  much more elegant, and not as likely to get them devoured by
  tunnel rats.) Besides, it probably has physical security as well.
  The origin of the name (and THE computer’s insistence on
  the capitalization thereof) is classified. Students in THE computer
  Science have occasionally leaked rumors that it’s because it is the
  computer – all the “computers” in the world are merely parts of it.
  If true, it may be the most successful Illuminati conspiracy to
  date.
  VVEENNDDIINNGG MMAACCHHIINNEESS
  Like any normal campus, vending machines are liberally
  scattered around the buildings. Most vending machines are sur-
  prisingly normal (they don’t usually follow students around, for
  example), but the contents can range from the mundane (soft
  drinks, mummified sandwiches and sugar-laden snacks) to the
  useful (batteries, flashlights, lockpicks and crowbars) to the
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  84
  
  absurd (inflatable rafts, plutonium pellets and +5 Swords of
  Radioactive Monster-Slaying).
  Most vending machines on campus will accept coins, bills
  from nearly any country (people who use counterfeits will regret
  it) and Illuminati Express. They often fail to give change, and
  sometimes either refuse to disgorge the selected product or spit
  out something entirely different than what the user wanted.
  Shaking IOU vending machines is strongly advised against . . .
  The College of Metaphysics has made its own contributions
  to campus equipment, as well as producing a considerable num-
  ber of magical artifacts of dubious utility as a side-effect of
  graduate thesis research. Unlike the technogadgets of WUSE,
  Metaphysics products can’t just have the batteries removed and
  be packed onto metal shelves in the basement.
  Old Metaphysics projects are likely to be found sitting
  inside locked steamer trunks in the musty attics of campus
  buildings; on obsidian plinths in endless caverns deep under the
  University, guarded by centuries-old COUP deathtraps and
  Wandering Monsters™; or inside pentagrams in small, dusty
  rooms that have been walled up for decades. And sometimes
  they just pop out of malfunctioning vending machines in the
  dorms, when all the poor students wanted were bags of potato
  chips, not Rings of Total Cosmic Power.
  BBAARREE SSKKIINN RRUUGG
  This particularly ugly magic item – it looks like a giant chi-
  huahua skin, or maybe a shaved tiger – is very popular with the
  School of Performing and Creative Arts (and frat houses) for one
  very cogent reason. When subjects lie down on it, the rug casts a
  modified Teleport Other spell on them, divesting them of all their
  clothes and depositing the garments in a neatly-folded pile to one
  side. (Persons standing on the rug are immune, as are those who
  sit or crawl onto it. It requires hip and shoulder contact.) Subjects
  are not re-dressed when they stand up.
  The rug’s magic will work through an inch or two of cover-
  ing, which makes it useful for spicing up a game of Twister or for
  putting under a blanket. Students of the College of Metaphysics
  are rumored to have a plot to create enough of these to cover the
  entire moopsball field, thus causing the Team to have an amusing
  surprise the next time someone is body-tackled there.
  TTHHEE CCRROOCCKKPPOOTT OOFF TTHHEE GGOODDSS
  One of the messier ways of resurrecting damaged students,
  this large, black pot will repair and reanimate any once-living
  biological placed within it – provided the body is pureed first.
  Ashes should be mixed with a suitable amount of water, and for-
  eign objects, such as smoking boots, must be removed first.
  Mixing bits from several people (or things) is not advised . . .
  The Crockpot runs on ordinary house current, but it’s very
  slow; it takes 24 hours to complete the process. If anyone looks
  inside the pot before it has finished, the whole process must
  start over from scratch.
  DDIIMMEENNSSIIOONNAALL GGAATTEESS
  Unlike those upstarts over in WUSE, the faculty and stu-
  dents of the College of Metaphysics have been wandering in and
  out of other dimensions for millennia. The magic versions of
  dimensional gates are all done the old-fashioned way, with the
  Create Gate spell (p. G49). Classic portals are anchored to mas-
  sive Stonehenge-like trilithons, though more experimental pro-
  fessors and grad students have created them in mirrors, mid-air
  and even refrigerators.
  Magical dimensional gates usually have a set of prescribed
  opening (or closing) conditions. These are often so incredibly
  tortuous that consultants from the COUP law school must be
  called in to untangle the requirements.
  LLIIFFEE--SSAAVVEERRSS
  These are alchemical elixirs always prepared in the form of
  small, colorful tablets with a hole in the center. They are created
  using a Weird Magic shortcut in the preparation of the
  Persephone elixir (p. M102).
  One tablet will restore 2d hit points to a newly-dead (within
  1 hour) subject, and brings him to life with fatigue 1! On a live
  subject, it restores 5d hits and all fatigue. No missing parts are
  restored. Will not work if the head has been destroyed, or if the
  body has been burned or taken more than 10 x HT hits. The sub-
  ject is also left with a hyperkinetic “sugar high” and a mouthful
  of cavities . . .
  PPRROOTTEECCTTIIOONN RRAACCQQUUEETT
  This is an everyday tennis racquet enchanted with the
  Missile Shield spell; unfortunately, it doesn’t cast the spell on
  the person holding it – the spell is on the racquet, forcing the
  wielder to actually “parry” an oncoming missile. Some
  Protection Racquets have Reverse Missiles, instead – if the
  owner makes the parry, the missile will be reflected back at the
  sender. The skill required to make use of this item is Sports
  (Tennis)-3. So far, no Metaphysics majors have managed to
  adapt either a Dancing Weapon or a Dancing Shield enchant-
  ment to the rather unique style necessary for using the racquet.
  Rumor has it that this Missile Shield variant may also be
  cast on racquetball racquets, ping-pong paddles and even base-
  ball bats, but so far none have been found.
  85
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  MAGIC ITEMS
  
  SSTTUUPPIIDD HHAATT TTRRIICCKKSS
  A favorite practical joke around finals, these otherwise
  ordinary baseball caps are enchanted with a variant of the
  Foolishness spell, so anyone who dons one will suffer a -3 to IQ
  – and Driving skill! The penalties are doubled to -6 if the cap is
  worn backwards. A very few caps are Hexed, so that they can’t
  be removed easily, but most can be taken off at will (if the wear-
  er thinks of it).
  TTHHRREEEE--PPIIEECCEE SSUUIITTSS
  Various enchantments can be placed on expensive cloth-
  ing, such as hand-tailored business suits. These stylish suits are
  just the sort of thing that lawyers, businessthings and other
  wealthy (and boring) people normally wear. While the coat,
  vest and pants are all magical, the entire outfit must be worn
  for the enchantment to take effect. This includes the coat, even
  indoors.
  LLaaww SSuuiitt
  This outfit, popular with some Law majors, is enchanted
  with the Lend Skill spell (p. M30). When wearing the entire out-
  fit, the user either gains a +4 to his (or her or its) Law skill if he
  already has it, or gets the Law skill at IQ+4 – whichever is
  greater. The spell lasts for a minute, and costs 3 Fatigue, 2 for
  each additional minute. Some suits also have the Persuasion
  spell (p. B155 or M29) enchanted into them, for use in swaying
  judges and juries.
  BBllaacckk SSuuiitt
  Popular with would-be Men In Black, these suits are gener-
  ally enchanted with Protection and Warning, Body College and
  Mind Control spells. Sensible mages will also imbue them with
  Resist Fire spells (p. B159 or M37), so that the wearer won’t
  fall over from heat exhaustion when wearing the suit inside un-
  air conditioned rooms on hot, sunny days. Other mages forget
  about that, and add the Resist Fire enchantment to a pair of dark
  glasses, as an afterthought.
  MMoonneeyy SSuuiitt
  One of the rare items from the mysterious “Money College”
  of magic, this gray dress-suit appears to be enchanted with the
  fabled Seek Money spell – it detects relative concentrations of
  cash, credit cards and checks that can draw on large bank
  accounts. Little else is known about it, as it is the sole and
  exclusive possession of the ArchDean, who probably uses it to
  evaluate potential students from her Clock Tower office.
  UUnn--ssuuiitt--aabbllee
  This practical joke appears to be the same as a Law Suit,
  but when the wearer invokes the garments’ enchantment – the
  clothes suddenly do something rude, like coming totally unfas-
  tened, unraveling or simply vanishing! Unlike the other Suits,
  the Un-suit-able need not be an entire set; a single piece will
  work its magic just as well as all three of them together.
  CCaatt SSuuiitt
  Another practical joke (though it can be of practical use, if
  someone else is handy with the Remove Curse spell), the Cat
  Suit is enchanted with the rare Shapeshift Others (Cat) spell.
  Use the statistics for an ordinary cat (sidebar, p. B142) for the
  feline form. The cat’s markings depend on the suit – a herring-
  bone tweed will transform into a mackerel tabby, while a black
  suit produces a sleek black cat and a white suit transforms the
  user into a fluffy white Persian.
  VVCCRR RREEMMOOTTEESS
  Originally invented by a Metaphysics grad student as a
  practical joke on his WUSE apartment-mates, this magic item
  has proven incredibly popular with VCR manufacturers, despite
  the fact that they are mage-only, rendering them non-functional
  for 95% of the population. (And most of the remainder find
  them incomprehensible without using a Gift of Tongues spell.)
  Rumors that some VCR remote controls can put the entire
  universe into Stop, Fast-Forward or Rewind are probably exag-
  gerations. And changing channels would likely be dangerous . . 
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  86
  . . . AND THINGS!
  While it’s sometimes difficult to tell the students from the
  fauna, there are creatures on campus everyone agrees are not
  students or faculty . . . probably. (Admittedly, some of the crea-
  tures listed here are normally considered NPCs, but campus-
  dwellers tend to regard them as environmental hazards and
  occasionally practice targets.)
  In the entries that follow, the Origins and Habitats fields
  use special abbreviations, which are listed below. Note that the
  Origins field is used somewhat differently here, indicating the
  source of the creature in the IOU universe.
  
  Origins:
  GB = Government Bureaucracy
  ML = Myth and Legend
  MU = Mutation (radiation, toxic waste, magical or whatever)
  R = Real
  SF = Science Fiction
  U = Unknown
  WM = Created by Weird Magic
  WS = Created by Weird Science
  Habitats:
  B = Buildings
  CG = Campus Grounds
  DO = Dorms
  F = Forests
  MA = Malls
  O = Offices
  P = Plains
  R = Roads
  RW = the Real World
  ST = Steam Tunnels
  A “#” means the text contains additional information.
  If a creature is substantially different in one of the cam-
  paign style variations (see p. 94), it will be noted. If it is very
  similar or identical, no variations will be listed.
  BBIIMMBBIIRRAASS
  ST: 9
  Move/Dodge: 5/5
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 11
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 100-155 lbs.
  IQ: 8
  Damage: $50-100
  Origin: SF
  HT: 12
  Reach: C
  Habitats: O
  Advantages: Appearance: Attractive or better, Double-
  Jointed.
  Disadvantages: Slave Mentality, Social Stigma (Valuable
  Property), Combat Paralysis.
  Skills: Sex Appeal-15, Administration-10, Poetry-8.
  Bimbiras, while looking remarkably like beautiful human
  females, are actually a variant race (which does not interbreed
  with humans) that the ArchDean picked up on some planet –
  Blood or Guts or something like that – and gainfully employed
  prior to her very friendly takeover of the University. Most
  Bimbiras are in secretarial positions. Some also hold teaching
  positions in the School of Performing Creative Arts; they are
  generally quite flexible . . .
  Students can flirt with Bimbiras, usually effectively, but are
  advised to remember that Bimbiras were once “working girls,”
  and expect to be given tips. They also love to work in front of
  cameras, which indicates either vanity, or some clues about their
  former jobs.
  Since Bimbiras cannot be bred, they are reproduced by
  cloning. Occasionally a minor mutation during the process will
  result in a Bimbira who is actually human-normal, mentally.
  Such variants are snapped up by COUP, since they tend to make
  excellent students with a talent for viciousness and a preference
  for black leather clothing.
  For some odd reason, most Bimbiras claim to have former-
  ly been English majors, before they found fulfillment in their
  current positions.
  (The precise mechanics of Slave Mentality can be found in
  GURPS Aliens or GURPS Fantasy Folk, 2nd edition.)
  Variations: Weird Bimbiras probably aren’t a separate race,
  just scatter-witted; Darkly Illuminated Bimbiras may be what
  happens to people who irk the Dark ArchDean – a bodysculpt
  and lobotomy job (most likely done by magic or psionics).
  BBIIOO--OOGGRREE
  ST: 200
  Move/Dodge: 20/3
  Size: 60 hexes
  DX: 15
  PD/DR: 6/200
  Weight: 50 tons
  IQ: 14
  Damage: 6d x 50
  Origin: WS
  HT: 14/500
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG, R
  Advantages: Magery 3.
  Disadvantages: Lecherous (only applies to other vehicles).
  A creation of the Dean of Metaphysics, the Bio-Ogre is part
  intelligent cyber-tank the size of a small building and part
  organic – in particular, it includes a brain with Magery.
  (Nobody knows where the brain came from.) Most of the time it
  sleeps in one of the bunkers in the College of Metaphysics,
  absorbing nutrients and playing dreamgames through its neural
  interfaces, but it has been known to escape. It is, unfortunately,
  somewhat deranged and will attempt to ram and mount unfortu-
  nate shuttlebuses. So far, those unions have not produced off-
  spring, for which many students are thankful.
  Besides running over people, the Bio-Ogre has a variety of
  ranged weapons. The GM should feel free to equip it with any-
  thing from GURPS Ultra-Tech or GURPS Vehicles, or simply
  assume all its weapons do 6d × 50 damage, which is usually quite
  adequate around campus. It has also been known to cast spells,
  and sometimes can be found lurking outside Metaphysics lecture
  halls, trying to eavesdrop on professors teaching new spells.
  Supposedly, there is only one Bio-Ogre, and it’s a small one.
  Of course, there is nothing to prevent another one from being
  created – and it might be more or less insane than the first.
  Variations: This does not exist at the Weird IOU, though
  something similar (though smaller) might be present in the
  Darkly Illuminated version.
  CCAATTSS,, TTHHEEAARRCCHHDDEEAANN’’SS
  ST: 3
  Move/Dodge: 10/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 14
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 5-15 lbs.
  IQ: 5+
  Damage: 1d-4 cut#
  Origin: R
  HT: 13/3
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  Besides biting and scratching for 1d-4 cutting damage, the
  campus cats can meow for help from the ArchDean, for impres-
  sive damage.
  87
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  
  Despite all rumors of enhanced intelligence, psi powers,
  bionic augmentation, magical abilities and dedication to spying
  for the ArchDean, these are really a bunch of rather sweet and
  normal-acting cats. They will rarely, if ever, cause trouble for
  PCs who don’t go around abusing them. (For safety, PCs should
  assume all the cats on campus are the ArchDean’s.)
  CCIIAA GGUULLLLSS
  ST: 1-3
  Move/Dodge: 13/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 14
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 3-5 lbs.
  IQ: 3?
  Damage: 1d-4
  Origin: U
  HT: 14/3-5
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  These are apparently some sort of robotic spy cameras –
  they are found all over campus, often sorting through garbage
  bins or dropping small bits of electronic apparatus as they fly
  overhead. Move/Dodge given is flying; it drops to 1⁄3 on the
  ground. They can be distinguished from ordinary sea gulls by
  the fact that they have feet. (Some New England natives will
  explain that real sea gulls don’t need feet, since they only land
  on the water; they’re also an endangered species.)
  DDRRYYAADDSS
  ST: 10
  Move/Dodge: 6/6
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 12
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 90-150 lbs.
  IQ: 10+
  Damage: by weapon
  Origin: ML
  HT: 11
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG, F
  Advantages: Attractive Appearance or better, Voice.
  Disadvantages: Odious Racial Habit (Practical Joking).
  Skills: Traps-13, Camouflage-15, Stealth-13 (in wooded
  areas only), Survival (Woodlands)-16.
  These green-tinged tree spirits live in the Avant Gardens
  and the Botany Building. They rarely interact with anyone, and
  can become vicious and cunning if mistaken for Bimbiras too
  frequently.
  It should be noted that with the Team around, the Dryads
  were mistaken for Bimbiras “too frequently” several years ago,
  and began setting traps around their homes just for giggles. The
  Team has learned that the Avant Gardens are “for wimps” and the
  Botany Building has too much classwork associated with it, but
  anyone who takes classes or enjoys scenic strolls here is likely to
  stumble into a snare and be jerked upside-down to the melodious
  giggles of the Dryads, who may stop to pelt the student with mud
  or snow (depending on season), before running away. They avoid
  those who have taken The Treatment, for good reasons.
  The only exceptions to their general hostility (COUP would
  love to get some as students, but they won’t cooperate), are the
  Sauhudese gardeners and George the Janitor – probably because
  those people carry fertilizer stakes in their pockets whenever
  they’re working around Dryad-infested areas.
  Variations: Dryads are only present on a Silly campus.
  GGEERRBBIILLSS,, ZZOOMMBBIIEE
  ST: 1
  Move/Dodge: 4/6
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 12
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 3 ounces
  IQ: 2
  Damage: 1d-4
  Origin: WM, WS
  HT: 14/2
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG, B
  On the IOU campus, there are numerous sources for zombie
  gerbils. WUSE experiments (though those are more likely to
  create cybernetic gerbils) and certain classes in the College of
  Metaphysics are the main producers. (Well, how else are you
  going to let students practice the Zombie spell? Or any other
  magic that deals with zombies? Bodies are expensive!)
  Zombie gerbils are generally kept in their lab cages, but
  sometimes they get out and go roving about. Furthermore, the
  dean of the College of Communications has been rumored to use
  them as messengers. In both cases, they travel around campus in
  a massive horde – a swarm of Gerbils With A Purpose. See
  Swarm Attacks, p. B143, for rules on running these fearsome lit-
  tle creatures – or use the Horde rules in GURPS Horror or
  GURPS Bestiary. A swarm consists of about a dozen of the
  undead rodents, does 1d of cutting damage per turn (armor pro-
  tects with its normal DR), and can be dispersed by 6 hits.
  As zombies, they feel no pain and cannot be stunned. They
  crumble to dust when their HT reaches zero, which tends to hap-
  pen quickly . . .
  Other zombie lab animals are known to exist. An interest-
  ing campus legend concerns a horde of zombie lemmings who
  attempted to take the elevator to the top of the Clock Tower
  (presumably to throw themselves off it); they were never seen
  again, and there are only hints at the fate of their creator. Most
  say the ArchDean walked into his class and asked him outside
  to “have a word” with him.
  Variations: These do not exist on a Weird campus, and
  probably don’t roam around a Darkly Illuminated one. They
  might be found, caged, in basement laboratories.
  IIRRSS AAGGEENNTTSS
  ST: 9-14#
  Move/Dodge: 5/5
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 12-15
  PD/DR: 0/0#
  Weight: 130-250 lbs.
  IQ: 10-16
  Damage: monetary
  Origin: GB
  HT: 10-13
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG, B, O, 
  RW
  Advantages: Lightning Calculator, Legal Enforcement
  Powers (10 points).
  Disadvantages: Enemy: just about everyone, Reputation -4.
  Skills: Accounting-15, Administration-18, Detect Lies-14,
  Intimidation-18, Law-13.
  One of the more cunning hostile fauna on campus, IRS
  agents show up occasionally to audit somebody’s books – a stu-
  dent’s, a faculty member’s or even the University accounts them-
  selves. When they go over someone’s financial records, they will
  find some excuse to charge $100 or so, just to recompense them
  (and the IRS) for their time. Even when they check the scrupu-
  lously clean books of the University (the public ones).
  Understandably, the ArchDean does not approve of IRS
  agents. It is well known that just about anything that happens to
  them is fine with her. So, even more than Campus Security, IRS
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  88
  
  agents are targets. The goal is to vanish them or get them into
  the Infirmary (which has specific instructions regarding them).
  Of course, the IRS isn’t entirely stupid (and is probably
  Illuminated anyway, handling that much money . . .); the agents
  they send to IOU are likely to be superb specimens, and well
  equipped – maybe even cyborged. But that just makes it more of
  a challenge, right?
  KKAAJJOONNEESS
  ST: 12
  Move/Dodge: 6/6
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 11
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 160-200 lbs.
  IQ: 7
  Damage: 1d-1 cr.
  Origin: WS
  HT: 12
  Reach: C
  Habitats: O
  Advantages: Attractive or better Appearance.
  Disadvantages: Slave Mentality, Social Stigma (Valuable
  Property), Combat Paralysis.
  Skills: Sex Appeal-15, Running-12, Administration-9.
  Kajones are the male equivalent of Bimbiras, created by
  genetic engineering on campus (rumor has it that one of the
  administrators wanted to impress the ArchDean; rumor also has
  it that the attempt succeeded). They are also sterile, and no nor-
  mal-intelligence mutants are known to have appeared.
  Unlike Bimbiras, Kajones are actually quite camera-shy,
  and less likely to expect a tip.
  Variations: Same as Bimbiras, but Dark Kajones grovel
  better than their female counterparts.
  MMEEEEPPSS
  ST: 2-10
  Move/Dodge: 3-10/5
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 3-15
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 1-6 lbs.
  IQ: 1-15
  Damage: var.
  Origin: U
  HT: 10+/5
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG, B, ST
  No one knows exactly where on campus – or Outside –
  these small, furry, cuddly creatures came from. In fact, it’s usu-
  ally not safe to inquire closely into the origins of campus flora
  and fauna. In any case, they started infesting the campus a few
  years ago, proving to be quite a nuisance until it was discovered
  that they were edible, and rather tasty. Now they’re something
  of an endangered species, though infestations of mutant strains
  appear from time to time. Meeps are named for their resem-
  blance to a moopsball, and for the odd sound they make.
  The typical meep (if such a thing exists – there are hun-
  dreds of mutant varieties) is a furry ellipsoid about the size and
  shape of a half cantaloupe, with four stubby feet and no obvious
  eyes, nose, mouth or other body openings. All varieties of
  meeps have the ability to turn the average freshthing into a smil-
  ing zombie, with an affinity for cuddling small furry animals –
  roll against the higher of Will or Survival (IOU) to resist. The
  College of Communications is currently researching possible
  commercial applications of this effect. In addition to this, the
  various mutant varieties might have any sort of weird ability the
  GM can imagine; color-coding them by their powers is optional.
  Damage varies from none (except maybe suffocation via
  burial in meeps), to concealed dagger-like fangs and claws, to
  psionic or magical attacks. Meeps are generally seen in swarms
  of dozens to hundreds.
  Rumors of a Queen Meep living in the steam tunnels, able
  to overcome the most cynical student’s resistance to petting
  meeps and feeding them junk food, are hopefully exaggerated –
  though it is true that the more meeps in the area, the harder it is
  to resist the temptation to pick one up, smile inanely and coo
  “Meep!” for no good reason.
  PPIIGGEEOONNSS,, CCAAMMPPUUSS
  ST: 1-2
  Move/Dodge: 10/5
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 11
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 1-2 lbs.
  IQ: 3
  Damage: 1d-5 cut
  Origin: R(?)
  HT: 13/2
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  The University, like many other campuses, has a sizable
  pigeon flock that flies about, roosts on buildings and statues, and
  terrorizes smaller birds out of the areas where students congregate
  and drop crumbs. For the most part, they appear quite normal.
  However, observant students will notice that the pigeons in
  the town and the pigeons on campus never mix. The “townies”
  won’t fly over the walls onto campus, and the resident birds
  don’t ever seek to escape. Town pigeons brought onto campus
  will try – earnestly – to hit Mach speeds on their way off-cam-
  pus. Campus pigeons will seek to return to campus, if they’re
  within sight of it; otherwise, they just flap about aimlessly and
  starve themselves to death.
  If a campus pigeon is caught, it seems to be a perfectly
  ordinary bird . . . except for the small tattoo under its left wing,
  clearly reading: “Made in Pigeon Forge, Tenn. USA.”
  Sometimes packages arrive from Pigeon Forge, too, but no stu-
  dent’s seen what’s inside them.
  Variations: The Darkly Illuminated version lacks the tattoo.
  RRAABBBBIITTSS,, LLAABB
  ST: 1-2#
  Move/Dodge: 14/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 14
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 8-20 lbs.
  IQ: 3#
  Damage: 1d-5 cut#
  Origin: R
  HT: 14/2-4
  Reach: C
  Habitats: B, CG, ST
  These are typical lab rabbits: dumb, a little high-strung and
  expendable. They are primarily used in WUSE, COUP and the
  College of Metaphysics. They make good meals (if uncontami-
  nated), nice fur hats or acceptable pets, beyond their use as thesis
  fodder.
  If let loose, they breed four to eight times a year, with three
  to eight “kittens” in a litter. They begin breeding at six months
  of age, and continue for seven to eight more years. Rabbits are
  89
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  
  very social animals, living in groups of 10-30 in a network of
  underground burrows, called a warren. They often organize
  themselves into a complex pecking order.
  Of course, rabbits at IOU (feral or otherwise) have slightly
  different living conditions than their mundane relatives. Feral
  rabbits have been known to live in burrows with meeps, for
  instance. Many of the escapees can be assumed to have freed
  themselves from their cages, rather than being let loose by soft-
  hearted or careless students. Even the captive ones often display
  some effects of the project they’re used in. Teleportation, intelli-
  gence, opposable thumbs and cyborging are all possible addi-
  tions to the basic lab rabbit’s repertoire.
  (For more ideas about enhanced rabbits and their abilities to
  complicate PC life, the GM should read GURPS Bunnies &
  Burrows.)
  RRAATTSS
  LLaabboorraattoorryy RRaattss
  ST: 1
  Move/Dodge: 6/6
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 13
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: <1 lb.
  IQ: 4
  Damage: 1d-5 cut
  Origin: R
  HT: 17/2
  Reach: C
  Habitats: B, CG
  These are typical albino lab rats. Like their fellow inmates,
  lab rabbits, they are subjected to various experiments, and don’t
  stay “typical” for very long. Those which become dangerous
  enough frequently escape to the steam tunnels, where they meet
  their destiny in the form of the resident tunnel rats – either as
  snacks, or as newfound companions.
  When possible, rats travel in swarms of about 12 (see
  Swarm Attacks, p. B143) with Speeds of 4 and doing 1d of cut-
  ting damage per turn, and can be dispersed by 6 hits of damage.
  Depending on where the rats escaped from, the GM may want to
  require an HT roll of anyone bitten by lab rats – you never know
  what sort of interesting diseases they might have been infected
  with.
  Some lab rats have confided that they are only sticking
  around to study the researchers.
  MMaallll RRaattss
  ST: 9-11
  Move/Dodge: 5/5
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 9-11
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 90-125 lbs.
  IQ: 10-11
  Damage: annoyance
  Origin: R
  HT: 10
  Reach: C
  Habitats: MA, RW
  Found in hordes of five to ten throughout Pyramid Mall,
  and occasionally spotted in smaller groups in other areas where
  things are sold, mall rats strike terror into the hearts of any store
  clerk. Mall rats are adolescent humans between the ages of 11
  and 15, who are cruising the mall to window-shop, gossip (or
  “hang out,” if male) and mob attractive members of the appro-
  priate genders. Occasionally they actually buy things.
  Variations: Silly IOU mall rats wear miniskirts, bows in
  their hair and imperfectly applied make-up. There is no male
  counterpart to them. Far, far too many mall rats are Mundanes,
  children of Mundane parents who live in town. Of the ones who
  aren’t Mundane, an astonishing number are so self-absorbed
  that they might as well be, for all the odd stuff that they don’t
  notice! Weird IOU mall rats will usually be found in starter-
  jackets and gang colors, but are otherwise similar. Darkly
  Illuminated mall rats are likely to be Neo-Gothic or vampire
  poseurs. (Some may not be posing . . .)
  Mall rats are surprisingly good at running mazes.
  TTuunnnneell RRaattss
  ST: 2
  Move/Dodge: 7/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 13
  PD/DR: 1/1
  Weight: 1-3 lbs.
  IQ: 4#
  Damage: 1d-3 cut
  Origin: MU
  HT: 17/3-4
  Reach: C
  Habitats: ST, B, CG
  Tunnel rats inhabit the steam tunnels that run underneath
  the University (and a lot of other places, as well) in hordes of 50
  to several thousand. While most of them are merely extra-large
  and extra-vicious, their leaders have human (and inhuman) lev-
  els of intelligence, and have organized their less-intelligent fol-
  lowers into lethal armies. Despite all this, tunnel rats are not
  feared so much for their ability to strip an elephant to the skele-
  ton in fifteen-point-one-seven seconds, but for their hideous
  proclivities – they play pan-dimensional chess, and wager fos-
  silized snack food on the outcome. Loser has to eat the stale,
  synthetic sponge-cakes.
  Not satisfied to restrict their depravities to their own kind,
  tunnel rats capture anyone foolish enough to enter their domain,
  and force their prisoners to play. (Pan-dimensional chess is a
  M/VH skill. Due to lack of five-dimensional perceptions, there
  is a -5 skill penalty for anyone except rats, sentient computers
  and cats – and cats never play in public.) In games between rats
  and students, it can be assumed that the student will be forced to
  play until he loses a game and chokes down the “food” . . . and
  then he’ll be stripped to a skeleton in five-point-zero-one sec-
  onds, just to add insult to injury.
  Variations: Darkly Illuminated tunnel rats don’t bother with
  stale food – they just eat the loser.
  SSQQUUIIRRRREELLSS
  ST: 1
  Move/Dodge: 9/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 15
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 1-2 lbs.
  IQ: 4
  Damage: 1-5 cut
  Origin: R
  HT: 14/3-4
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG, RW
  Like most university campuses, IOU is infested with squir-
  rels. Many of the rodents are exactly what they appear to be –
  cute, furry little critters that scamper about in the trees and over
  the lawns, sometimes stopping near students at lunchtime to beg
  for food. These squirrels are generally useful only for target
  practice, field testing of dubious lunch components or cat snacks.
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  90
  
  Due to the vast array of toxic wastes, radiation and strange
  magical energies encountered on campus, the ordinary squirrel
  population conceals other varieties. Some seem to take an inor-
  dinate interest in the people on campus, occasionally following
  victims for days and staring at them with beady little eyes for
  hours at a time. Reports of black squirrels with projecting fangs
  are linked with stories of students falling asleep under trees late
  at night, and waking the next morning with advanced cases of
  anemia. The recent appearance of “Do Not Feed the Squirrels”
  signs, along with daytime sightings of rodents wearing dark
  sunglasses, lends credence to these stories.
  However, the rumors of roving packs of squirrels mugging
  students for their lunches are undoubtedly wildly exaggerated.
  WWaattcchheerr SSqquuiirrrreellss
  ST: 1
  Move/Dodge: 9/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 15
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 1-2 lbs.
  IQ: 7
  Damage: 1-5 cut
  Origin: MU
  HT: 14/3-4
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  Besides having higher than normal intelligence, and a fasci-
  nation with human activities, watcher squirrels are otherwise
  normal animals. They are completely harmless. Really.
  VVaammppiirree SSqquuiirrrreellss
  ST: 5
  Move/Dodge: 9/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 15
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 1-2 lbs.
  IQ: 7
  Damage: 1d impale#
  Origin: WM
  HT: 16/6-8
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  Vampire squirrels can also shapeshift into flying squirrels
  (takes 3 turns), and cast the Sleep spell (p. B164 or M66) at skill
  level 15. A sleeping character attacked by a vampire squirrel
  will lose 5 hit points to blood loss, and will wake with a com-
  pulsion to gather nuts.
  If a character loses 15 hit points or dies from the bites of
  multiple squirrels, he will turn into a very wimpy vampire, with
  all his normal attributes and abilities, plus an allergy to sunlight
  (loses 1 HT per hour in full sunlight), a craving for blood (treat
  as an Addiction) and the ability to change into a giant flying
  squirrel (takes 3 turns and costs 6 Fatigue).
  MMuuggggeerr SSqquuiirrrreellss
  ST: 1
  Move/Dodge: 9/7
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 15
  PD/DR: 0/0
  Weight: 1-2 lbs.
  IQ: 7
  Damage: 1-5 cut
  Origin: MU
  HT: 14/3-4
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  Mugger squirrels travel in gangs of a dozen or so (see
  Swarm Attacks on p. B143), dropping out of trees on top of lone
  students and knocking them to the ground (treat as a flying tack-
  le attack in Close Combat, p. B113, adding the ST values for all
  the squirrels). The squirrel swarm has a Move of 5 and can be
  dispersed by 4 hits of damage.
  Once down, the victim is rapidly – 3 turns – stripped of
  anything edible or shiny, and the squirrels immediately scamper
  away into the nearby trees with their loot. If a PC walks under a
  mugger squirrel pack, make a reaction roll at -5, -10 if the stu-
  dent is munching on food or obviously holding a lunch bag. On
  a reaction of Bad or worse, the squirrels attack.
  SSTTRRAANNGGLLEEVVIINNEE CCAACCTTUUSS
  ST: 15-20
  Move/Dodge: 0/3
  Size: 1-10 hexes
  DX: 13
  PD/DR: 0/1
  Weight: 200-2,000 lbs.
  IQ: 3
  Damage: 1d-3 imp.# Origin: MU
  HT: 14
  Reach: 3
  Habitats: CG
  Rumor has it that this mutant vegetable, with the behavior of
  a psychotic octopus, was created when a very high-ranking dean
  accidentally poured large amounts of a famous soft-drink into an
  otherwise innocuous potted plant. While the first occurrence of
  the Stranglevine Cactus was torn apart by the Team (under the
  mistaken impression that it was an opposing player), the seeds
  that it left still sprout occasionally. Stranglevine Cacti are often
  used as nasty surprises for people who chase the dryads too much.
  Besides damage from the thorns, the flexible branches of
  the cactus attack in Close Combat by grappling the victim and
  then inflicting strangulation damage (see p. B112).
  Variations: On non-Silly campuses, the Stranglevine
  Cactus doesn’t grow in the wild, and is smaller, less mobile (DX
  7) and less aggressive.
  TTUURRTTLLEESS,, AARRCCTTIICC FFUURRRREEDD
  ST: 5
  Move/Dodge: 1/1
  Size: 1 hex
  DX: 5
  PD/DR: 2/5
  Weight: 4-12 lbs.
  IQ: 3
  Damage: 1d-5 cr.
  Origin: MU
  HT: 16/5
  Reach: C
  Habitats: CG
  These small mutant turtles have shells covered in white fur.
  Probably the result of an ancient WUSE experiment in gene-
  splicing, the slow-breeding turtles have now reached a sufficient
  population on campus to be a minor nuisance in the gardens.
  Other than that, they’re not good for much, except maybe as
  practice targets. They aren’t even very good eating, unlike
  meeps. (Sometimes very nearsighted or Clueless characters will
  mistake them for large meeps, but they’re a lot harder to kill,
  and not at all worth the effort.)
  They’re small, they’re stupid, they’re slow and they’re
  harmless – unless you happen to stick a finger into one’s beak.
  So why are they even mentioned here? First, they give the
  Sahudese gardeners something to chase besides students taking
  short-cuts. Second, something in the IOU bestiary has to be
  harmless, just so the GM can harass players by mentioning the
  creature frequently and letting them get paranoid about why
  they haven’t figured out why. And maybe they’re just a ploy by
  an evil extraterrestrial intelligence that happens to look like
  small, white, furry turtles. Once everybody gets used to the fact
  that they’re stupid and harmless . . .
  91
  TTHHIINNGGSS
  
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  92
  J
  ohn Smith checked the room number against
  his class-schedule, cracked the door open to
  peek through and – when the resulting scenery
  looked reasonable – walked in. A young woman was
  in the room already. WUSE major. John could tell –
  it was something about the way she had a CIA gull’s
  internal components strewn over her desk and the
  two adjacent ones.
  
  93
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  The rest of the class trailed in over the next few minutes. John waved to
  Loriel and Marcus – he’d had a class with the two alternate-dimensioners last
  semester, and stranded sentients should stick together. A blond wolf trotted in,
  carrying a backpack, and turned into an embarrassed-looking member of the
  Team. A redhead in black sat down next to John, and began lecturing her black
  cat about heckling. The cat muttered under its breath and blew a raspberry.
  Finally Professor Barmo arrived. John pegged him for a COUP teacher “on
  loan” to the English Department, since Barmo had a Bullet-Proof Briefcase (on
  sale at the campus bookstore). Barmo pulled his notes out of the briefcase and
  set them on the lectern. “Greetings, class. I’m Professor Barmo, and this is
  Combat Journalism 323, which will fulfill one non-major English requirement.
  Is everyone in the right classroom?” The Team wolf sounded out the letters on
  his class schedule, and Loriel chucked a shuriken at the teacher; despite her
  excellent aim, it clattered against the wall. John groaned to himself – even
  though he was teaching a measly English class, Barmo had gotten The
  Treatment, which meant John wouldn’t have a chance of reading his mind and
  figuring out what the teacher really wanted to see papers about.
  **CLICK**
  John Smith checked the room number against his class schedule and walked
  in. A young woman was already inside, standing on a chair at the back of the
  room to examine the security camera at closer range. Something about the way
  she held her power screwdriver said “WUSE major” to John.
  The rest of the class trailed in over the next few minutes. John waved to
  Loriel and Marcus – he’d had a class with them last semester, and had a notion
  that wherever they were from, it was about as far away (and far out) as his
  homeworld. Maybe it was Loriel’s ears . . . An unshaven Team member came in,
  wearing dog-tags around his neck, followed by a redhead in black who was talk-
  ing quietly to the (oblivious) black cat riding on her shoulders.
  Finally Professor Barmo arrived: a nondescript fellow with an executive’s
  briefcase. “Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Barmo, and this is Competitive
  Journalism 323, for non-majors. Is everyone in the right room?” The Team
  member checked his class schedule a few times, and John tried to slip into
  Barmo’s mind, to see what kind of papers he really wanted. John “bounced”
  painfully. A mindshield? On an English teacher? Drat. And he could have
  sworn the teacher wasn’t wearing one, too.
  **CLICK**
  John Smith checked the room number against his class schedule and walked
  in. A young woman was already there, and she looked up warily from behind the
  desk’s lectern at John’s entrance. He carefully avoided looking at her and took a
  seat near the door – WUSE or COUP, he wasn’t sure, and he didn’t want to
  evaluate any explosions or bugs first-hand.
  The rest of the class trailed in over the next few minutes. John nodded to
  Loriel and Marcus – they’d had a class together last semester, and there was a
  chance they’d remember him. An unshaven Team member came in, wearing dog-
  tags around his neck, followed by a redhead in black. As she passed John, he
  noticed a black cat peeking out of her backpack.
  Finally Professor Barmo arrived: a carefully bland man in a dark suit, car-
  rying a slim briefcase. “Hello. I am your teacher for Advanced Journalism 323.
  Are you all in the correct class?” The Team member surreptitiously checked his
  class schedule, and John tried to slip into the professor’s mind, to see what
  kinds of papers he really wanted . . .
  He woke up groggily, with Marcus and Loriel leaning over him. The chubby
  pre-med student looked relieved and called, “He’s all right, sir,” while Loriel
  helped John to his feet.
  IOU in Other Genres 
  By its very nature as a dimensional
  nexus, Illuminati University can show up
  in any other universe the GM wishes. The
  University will always have a Tech Level
  at least 3-4 higher than the rest of the
  world, and perhaps more if introduced into
  a GURPS Ice Age campaign. Here are
  some suggested treatments for other
  worlds/genres.
  Yrth (GURPS Fantasy) – Most of the
  time IOU collectively ignores Yrth, since
  there’s not much that the University wants
  from there. The exception is Sauhudese
  gardeners, who may very well travel freely
  to and from Sahud. Occasionally Yrth is
  assaulted by a group of students on vaca-
  tion – say, the WUSE Class of ’98. Critical
  failures of Teleport spells in Yrth some-
  times strand the transported individuals on
  the IOU campus. A Weird University will
  have less traffic with Yrth, mostly just
  accidents while reading Books Man Was
  Not Meant To Read Aloud, but former
  Yrthling students are quite possible. A
  Darkly Illuminated campus may have ties
  with Necromantic mages who receive spell
  components in return for supplying IOU
  with research subjects for mind-control
  experiments. Sometimes the spell compo-
  nents are former research subjects; the
  University is big on recycling.
  A Yrth-based IOU would be difficult to
  explain – Yrth doesn’t approve of tech at
  all – but a magic-focused University is
  possible. The Unseen University in Terry
  Pratchett’s Discworld series is mandatory
  reading for this option.
  Other fantasy worlds could easily have
  a Metaphysics-dominated IOU.
  Supers – The University is essentially
  unchanged, except for the larger number of
  metahumans on campus. Add a School of
  Superhumanities (SoS) to handle things
  related to superpowers: super-genetics,
  super-history, etc. (They will be in conflict
  with other schools.) In all versions of the
  University, the amount of damage that
  rampaging supers might cause should be
  minimized as much as plausible, and a lit-
  tle beyond that. IOU is used to strange
  powers that can topple buildings in a single
  hiccup, and builds accordingly. A Silly
  campus will have Mundanes who don’t
  believe in superpowers, even when the rest
  of the world does! A Darkly Illuminated
  IOU will probably be experimenting with
  the origins of super-abilities; while
  Illuminati University may be the best place
  for a young super to train and discover the
  limits of his powers, the University is also
  discovering everything about him, and may
  have some suggestions on how a metahu-
  man Ilumnus might be helpful . . .
  Continued on next page . . . 
  
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  94
  The teacher nodded. “Good. We shall have a roll-call now, and see if we
  have everyone.” John had the unpleasant feeling Barmo was looking at him, and
  wondered if he’d made a mistake, assuming a simple English teacher wouldn’t
  be one of Them . . .
  Illuminati University can be used as a setting for an entire campaign, with
  the characters as students, staff, faculty or “Other,” or as a background for one-
  shots. If the characters are all students, putting them in the same class makes a
  natural starting place for a PC group to form, and there are always required
  courses to pull them together again – not to mention paperwork bungles, sched-
  uling mishaps and computer errors; it’s perfectly reasonable for the party-hearty
  Team member to end up in a Postnuclear Physics class with the ivory-tower
  genius. Dormitories are another good place for characters to meet. At IOU, the
  generic “the adventurers all meet in the tavern” scene is replaced by the group of
  lost freshthings meeting in the dorm lounge . . .
  Depending on the players’ interests, the GM may want to start the campaign
  with unsuspecting 100-point freshthings as they arrive at IOU for the first time
  (offering numerous opportunities for traumatic experiences, such as their first
  bite of cafeteria food), instead of seasoned second-semester freshthings (or
  upperclassthings) who already know the ropes.
  Staff are likely to be assigned to work in the same building or area, and fac-
  ulty will encounter each other at meetings, either as rivals from different
  schools, or as allies (sometimes reluctant ones) striving to ensure that their col-
  leges don’t get the budget cuts this semester.
  If IOU is placed into an existing campaign, it is recommended that the GM
  figure out some reason why the PCs will have access to Student Life Insurance.
  Just being toted along and processed by the cleanup crews is perfectly reason-
  able, though there will be a bit of a hassle when the Health Center discovers that
  these people weren’t students. Of course, the GM doesn’t have to mention that
  this place is IOU, or that the PCs aren’t really going to be dead permanently
  (just talk fast, before anybody rips up a character sheet).
  In an existing campaign, IOU can be a strange locale that the PCs discover in
  the course of an adventure, deal with, and leave as quickly as they can manage –
  or a bit of “flavor” that they might encounter and wonder about – or a source of
  the subtle manipulations that they’ve been tracing for years. Or all three . . .
  CAMPAIGN STYLE
  IOU campaigns lend themselves to considerable variations in style. These
  range from the outright silly, brain-dead campaign, through mystery, weirdness
  and horror, to the darkly-illuminated tone of GURPS Illuminati.
  While an IOU campaign will probably stay with one particular style, it is
  possible to change if the GM desires. It is not hard to incrementally turn a dark-
  ly-illuminated or weird IOU into a silly one, though characters from hard-bitten,
  dark campaigns may not mesh well with lunatic science, rampaging rubber
  monsters and aliens with silly plots to corner the ice cream
  market on Mercury; they may quickly long for the bad old
  days of demonic conspiracies and elaborate quintuple-cross-
  es. Silliness will rapidly run riot, given half a chance.
  Converting a silly campaign to a darker style can be
  much harder. The easiest way is to use that old chestnut, the
  “alternate universe” gimmick. A silly IOU has plenty of cra-
  zies with unreliable magic or tech – probably half the profes-
  sors commute to campus from alternate realities (and some of
  them seem to stay there, even while teaching). Something
  IOU in Other Genres
  (continued)
  Cyberpunk – Add chrome, leather and
  flash to the campus, but just a bit less than
  might be expected; when the shocking
  becomes commonplace, the University
  expands its strangeness in other directions.
  The University will probably be the Darkly
  Illuminated version, though a Weird IOU is
  possible. (Silly cyberpunk is almost a con-
  tradiction in terms. But if you can make it
  work . . .) 
  From the outside world, IOU has few
  links into the Net – very few deckers will
  even know “iou.edu.com” exists. Or can
  exist . . . From University computers there
  are links everywhere, and the only problem
  is getting proper passwords. Deckers can-
  not break into THE computer at IOU at all,
  except with the help of a student or faculty.
  After dodging all kinds of ICE, slipping
  past countless Watchdogs and using every
  skill at his disposal, a decker might eventu-
  ally come across a message that reads:
  “Congratulations, you have placed out of
  THE computer Science 101, and earned a
  free semester at Illuminati University. Do
  you accept?” 
  In any version, IOU owns several
  Corporations outright. The Darkly
  Illuminated University will be a source of
  new designer drugs, and prying Netrunners
  may find that THE computer is an
  Artificial Intelligence with Electronic
  Deathtouch instead of Black Ice.
  Space – The way Illuminati University
  fits into a Space campaign will depend
  heavily on what the GM has previously set
  up. The University could have a relatively
  small campus on one world, branch cam-
  puses on several worlds (why is there a
  Main Building in each branch campus with
  the ArchDean in residence?) or IOU could
  have an entire world to itself. If a Silly
  University has set up shop on a hostile
  planet or asteroid, there will be no obvious
  reasons for the Earth-like conditions on
  campus. As always, Illuminati University
  will have a slightly higher tech level than
  the rest of the universe, and will often have
  a distressing lack of respect for Precursor
  artifacts.
  Lensman – Not until Mentor pays his
  overdue library fines.
  
  95
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  Goes Horribly Wrong and *POOF*, the characters are suddenly in a much dark-
  er, grimier version of the campus.
  Unless the players are agreed on changing the course of the campaign,
  changes in tone are best reserved for single adventures, with the characters
  heaving a sigh of relief when they finally find their way back to their own –
  sane and sensible, of course – version of IOU.
  SSIILLLLYY
  This is the primary style presented in this worldbook: bad puns, silly gadgets,
  campy campus humor and incompetent – or incomprehensible – conspiracies to
  take over the world. Character survival is almost assured (though there’s no guar-
  antee the characters won’t be . . . changed). Many, if not all, of the stories in the
  supermarket tabloids are true, though the mundane world rarely believes them.
  Conspiracy theorists are all crazy, and 100% right – there’s a lunatic behind every
  bush planning to take over the world, and everyone’s controlling everyone else.
  Campus events are characterized by impressive special effects, and correspond-
  ing collateral damage. Death, both of NPCs and PCs, is common, but normally
  temporary. Silly IOU campaigns are highly cinematic.
  Characters in a Silly IOU setting need not follow any guidelines for reality,
  sense or taste – the more unlikely and off-the-wall the character is, the better!
  (The sample students starting on p. 64 may be useful as examples of outrageous
  characters.) PCs in a Silly campaign often have strange goals in life, such as res-
  cuing plants from vegetarians, walking on the Moon . . . barefoot, or phoning
  home to the Andromeda galaxy (collect). A starting point level of 100 to 150
  character points is quite adequate for a Silly campaign, especially since there is
  no need to design the character for survival. Pick character concepts for interest-
  ing worldviews, perversions of the rules or satirical value.
  Aliens and other non-humans are common on the Silly campus. (They’re
  common off-campus, too – half of your neighbors back home were probably
  Martians, vampires or orthodontists in hiding.) Almost nothing qualifies as an
  Unusual Background; “Raised by Orthodox Jewish ninja werewolves” doesn’t
  even come close . . .
  The Silly IOU is a hotbed of psi, magic, weird science and superpowers,
  and you can hardly cross campus without seeing something that would freak
  mundanes. Most PCs will have a weird ability or two, though not necessarily a
  useful one . . . True Mundanes are objects of fear, and some students even
  believe they are mythical!
  Many off-campus spots are normal mana, and high mana zones are common
  at IOU. The parts of campus that aren’t overrun with arcane powers are flooded
  with exotic technology. WUSE is a riot of devices from wildly different Tech
  Levels, and its products spill over into the rest of the campus. Every “computer”
  on Earth, down to the lowliest VCR and microwave oven controller, is part of
  THE computer. Surveillance devices are visible – and invisible – all over campus.
  Adventures can happen anywhere, anywhen. Even a simple lecture on com-
  parative biology can be enlivened when the stuffed demonstration model of T.
  rex comes to life. Alien spacecraft routinely land on campus to invade, party or
  just boggle the hicks. Elder gods drop in for lunch, or simply to watch an espe-
  cially good show of “Funniest Home Videos.” Time travelers stop and ask direc-
  tions to ancient Rome, inviting the helpful locals along.
  Off-campus adventures will often involve students using their weird powers
  to combat local menaces, like cyborged, 90-year-old psychotic grandmothers
  with nuclear-powered chainsaws, or Madison Avenue plots to brainwash the pop-
  ulation into buying toothpaste-flavored cereal. Interactions between the charac-
  ters, recreational activities and part-time jobs are also fertile ground for plots.
  IOU and Time-Travel 
  The University and time travel go
  together like bacon and eggs, Mom and
  apple pie, bug-eyed monsters and drool.
  Not only can the characters trash large
  sections of the planet (and near-Earth
  space), but they can rampage through
  time. Possible activities range from out-
  right cross-time looting, to do-it-yourself
  time paradox generation, to showing up at
  famous historical events and heckling. 
  For general rules on time-travel, see
  GURPS Time Travel. Due to the “publish
  or perish” syndrome, IOU professors and
  graduate students have probably tried just
  about all feasible (and many highly implau-
  sible) ways to accomplish time-travel, so
  the GM can allow multiple techniques.
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  The premier time-travel organization
  on campus is C.T.H.U.L.H.U., naturally.
  It considers itself the only authorized
  agency for temporal operations, thus caus-
  ing occasional conflicts with other col-
  leges, which may have peripheral interests
  in time-travel. This college has appointed
  itself the guardian of the timestream –
  only it is allowed to meddle (and loot!).
  History courses are taught here, and
  often feature “hands-on” learning in the
  field. If the GM wants to operate a time-
  travel campaign at IOU, this is the best
  method. C.T.H.U.L.H.U. favors “push the
  button and it goes” methods of time-travel
  – it does not teach temporal theory or do
  much experimentation, and the actual
  devices involved are small, unspectacular
  and usually reliable. (They appear to be of
  a very advanced Tech Level, and are prob-
  ably imported by the Dean from sources
  in the far future.)
  Continued on next page . . .
  
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  96
  WWEEIIRRDD
  Weird IOU campaigns deal in occult phenomena, aliens and other oddities,
  but taken mostly seriously. This style resembles our own world, but with subtle
  bits of weirdness. Perhaps 10% of the stories in the supermarket tabloids are
  true, and conspiracy theorists are usually outright lunatics. Large-scale death
  and destruction is less common in this style than in the Silly campaign, and
  character resurrection is less necessary (but still possible).
  Characters in a Weird campaign should be much like ones from a Silly IOU,
  but toned down a little. A Weird campaign is best started with 100-point charac-
  ters (second-semester freshthings). The GM should be more concerned with
  abusive character designs, and should feel free to veto outrageous levels of
  advantages, skills and powers, as well as incongruous disadvantages. Most PCs
  will probably be humans with weird abilities. Aliens and other non-humans will
  be infrequent on campus, and the GM may wish to charge a few points for
  Unusual Backgrounds for such characters.
  Psi and magic are still fairly common in a Weird campaign. Super abilities
  are uncommon or unknown, though human-derived “natural” shapeshifters,
  such as vampires and werewolves, will be around. Weird science is less outra-
  geous, but still present, and there will be a few experimental gadgets around that
  exceed the nominal local Tech Level. THE computer is confined primarily to the
  campus. Cinematic rules and abilities are optional – a weird campaign can work
  with either a realistic or cinematic style.
  Mana levels on-campus will be normal, with some spots of high mana, while
  the rest of the world will be a low mana zone (with some exceptions, of course).
  Surveillance of the campus is less overt, but still present. PCs should always
  have the impression that they are being watched while on campus; it will be
  unclear whether this is by human agents, technology or more arcane techniques.
  Many adventures will happen off-campus, as the PCs attempt to do research
  for class assignments, or simply happen upon strange situations. Characters
  should be concerned about showing off strange abilities in the largely mundane
  world. While some authorities will take occult abilities in stride, and may even
  welcome them, others might run “troublemaking students” out of town. Overt
  displays of power could attract unwelcome media attention, though only local
  and “fringe” newspapers will bother with clearly unbelievable stories.
  Typical adventure plots will involve borderline horror (hauntings, polter-
  geists, mythical monsters and perhaps the odd demon or two), people plagued
  by – or abusing – weird powers, alien visitations and searches for legendary or
  mythical artifacts, locations, people, creatures, etc. The X-Files and In Search Of
  . . . television series and the Indiana Jones movies typify the concepts and style
  that characterize Weird IOU campaigns.
  IOU and Time Travel
  (continued)
  Time-travel adventures in C.T.H.U.-
  L.H.U. will either be simple excursions
  into the past for observation, looting and
  timeline tinkering, or will be operations
  against unauthorized trippers from other
  schools, or perhaps repairs to the timeline
  after amateurs have snarled up the past.
  The University itself is – usually – pro-
  tected from timeline meddling by the cam-
  pus reality stabilizers (see p. 83), but the
  outside world is not. And the ArchDean
  gets very annoyed if she finds out that the
  stock market was abolished when the
  People’s Republic of America was estab-
  lished in 1968.
  Other IOU Schools
  Many other schools and departments
  have interests in time-travel, and each has
  its own favored techniques. WUSE tends
  toward complex time machines that pull
  enough power to brown out the North
  American power grid, while the College of
  Metaphysics leans toward techniques
  involving phoenix blood, midnight cere-
  monies and odd potions. The College of
  Zen Surrealism may also engage in time
  travel, using experimental meditative tech-
  niques, but with them, it’s hard to tell if
  they’ve actually gone anywhere, or merely
  had particularly strange dreams . . .
  Most adventures involving other col-
  leges at IOU will be one-shots: testing a
  new theory, or trying to snag a particularly
  important bit of loot from the past. Such
  operations are usually secret (to keep
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. from horning in) and ill-
  prepared. Except for time-travel gear,
  WUSE and Metaphysics students generally
  have better weird tech or powers than
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. students, but most of the
  real geeks hate history, which means they
  tend to be clueless about the era they travel
  to. “You mean they don’t speak English
  here?” “Where’s the bathroom?” “Where’s
  the toilet paper?”
  Rival Universities
  Some of IOU’s rival institutions may
  also be capable of time-travel, which
  opens opportunities for major skuldug-
  gery: professors with opposing theories,
  squabbles over loot (academic and mone-
  tary) and sabotaging the enemy Team
  before – long before – a critical game.
  Illuminati
  Where time-travel exists, the Illuminati
  will undoubtedly have it, and be tinkering
  with the timestream for their own
  inscrutable purposes. Luckily, IOU is part
  of the conspiracy, which means that
  Illuminati operations in the past will only
  conflict with the University’s on rare
  occasions. Say, about half the time . . .
  Continued on next page . . .
  
  97
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  DDAARRKKLLYY IILLLLUUMMIINNAATTEEDD
  This is most suited as an adjunct to a GURPS Illuminati campaign (or
  GURPS Horror, or both) – this campaign also resembles the “real” world, but
  has the added complication of the Secret Masters running the University.
  Humor, if present, will be dark, and the campaign will tend to revolve around
  survival. Physical dangers are less overt in this campaign, and characters are
  less likely to die gratuitously. Therefore, character resurrection may not be
  available (see p. 107). Of course, knowing too much can be deadly – but so can
  knowing too little . . . 
  Characters in a Darkly Illuminated campaign should be either fairly normal
  100-point characters – second-semester freshthings just discovering that the
  world is not as innocuous as they thought – or perhaps 150 - 200-point visiting
  faculty who become enmeshed in the dark political web at Illuminati University.
  While they can still have strange powers, PCs will want to keep them secret, and
  the powers themselves will be less outrageous. In general, only NPCs will dis-
  play any cinematic characteristics – shrugging off fatal wounds, for instance.
  Dark IOU characters should be encouraged to take high levels of Thief/Spy
  skills, and possibly Combat skills, since character survival may depend on these,
  and plots will revolve around such skills.
  The mana level of the world in general will be low, with disturbingly fre-
  quent instances of normal mana on-campus, and the occasional spot of high
  mana. Characters should worry when they stumble across anything but low mana
  zones. Psi powers exist, and the University even offers training, but known psis
  will often get the feeling they’re being watched, even more so than normal char-
  acters. (The same will be true for PCs with magical or super powers.)
  Technology is outwardly no different than the rest of the world’s (but don’t
  examine Campus Security’s nightsticks too closely. . .), and THE computer
  shows no signs of intelligence or being in control of the world-wide network; at
  least, students don’t see any indications of this. There is considerable evidence
  of cutting-edge technology, much of which is locked away in labs doing govern-
  ment research, with prominent “Classified Area: No Unauthorized Entry” signs
  on the doors, and sophisticated crypto-locks.
  Overt signs of surveillance activities on campus are limited, just a few secu-
  rity cameras outdoors, watching walkways and other common areas – strictly for
  student safety, of course. Characters with appropriate skills may ferret out other
  bugs in classrooms, dorms and bathrooms, as well as outdoors in trees, flowers
  and bushes. Such bugs are clearly highly sophisticated and probably at least clas-
  sified government technology. Attempts to trace signals will typically result in
  failure, though some bugs can be linked to classroom activities in COUP.
  IOU and Time Travel
  (continued)
  The Time Patrol
  A staple of science fiction, the Time
  Patrol probably takes a dim view of stu-
  dents joyriding (and looting) throughout
  the timestream. These square-jawed
  heroes of the timeways are likely to show
  up and ruin that really special party in
  ancient Rome. Of course, they have been
  known to blunder once in a while, them-
  selves, so they might be subject to black-
  mail. C.T.H.U.L.H.U. and the Time Patrol
  will have a strong rivalry, each asserting
  that it is the One True Protector of the
  once and future past.
  IOU in Other Times
  Visitors to other times may be sur-
  prised to find branches of the IOU campus
  in the far past, even back to the Dawn of
  Man. Further back, reptile-inhabited ver-
  sions of the campus may be found in the
  Age of Dinosaurs. Sometimes this can be
  useful – a few of the campus walkways
  seem to link the campus at different times,
  though finding these deliberately takes an
  Area Knowledge (IOU) skill roll at a -10
  penalty, and there’s no guarantee that
  there is a path to the specific time and
  location sought (roll of 5 or less on 3d).
  Parallel Universes
  As an interdimensional nexus, the
  University offers intermittent access to a
  wide variety of universes – sometimes by
  merely taking the wrong route off-cam-
  pus. Technological and arcane techniques
  offer other ways of visiting parallel (or
  skew!) timelines and interacting with their
  inhabitants.
  Using IOU in a Time
  Travel Campaign 
  The University can make an interesting
  adventure in a “normal” time-travel cam-
  paign. Travelers could encounter a past
  version of the campus, or may run afoul of
  a present-time IOU excursion in the past.
  The PCs might even be the Time Patrol,
  trying to keep these trans-temporal hooli-
  gans from destroying the timestream!
  Discovering past-time looting and med-
  dling, and eventually tracing the perpetra-
  tors to the University can be the basis of
  an extended adventure. And once the
  characters have located the troublemakers,
  exactly what are they going to do with an
  entire university? Between the reality sta-
  bilizers and the various sorts of weird
  powers and tech available on campus,
  IOU is going to be a tough nut to crack.
  Sideways “time” travel can easily
  dump travelers onto the University cam-
  pus – it’s one of the easiest locations to
  access in all the parallel worlds. In fact, it
  tends to suck people in from neighboring
  timelines . . .
  
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  98
  All humanoid faculty and staff look and dress like normal humans, with
  only disturbing hints at their actual appearances or origins – some people may
  cast odd shadows, or look strange when seen out of the corner of one’s eye. Men
  In Black will be common on campus, even on the faculty (but always teaching
  other students’ classes, never the PCs’). Odd quirks of dress are common: mir-
  rorshades worn indoors; concealing, hooded capes; umbrellas carried open on
  pleasant, sunny days; odd bulges under clothing; and the like.
  Dark IOU adventures will typically focus on intrigue: uncovering mysterious
  plots, getting inducted into secret societies, backstabbing rival students or faculty
  and amassing power and money, not to mention avoiding the intrigues of enemies
  (or crossfire from “neutral” parties), trying to keep from becoming pawns of oth-
  ers and covering up when the PCs learn things they shouldn’t know. . .
  CAMPUS LIFE
  There are many aspects of life at a university besides education. (Many stu-
  dents consider these more important than education.) Characters face a variety
  of issues of everyday living that are specific to the university environment.
  HHOOUUSSIINNGG
  Unless the students want to camp out on the Pent (not recommended!), they
  need a place to sleep, party, store their books and even study on occasion. There
  are a number of choices, but no matter which the players choose for their char-
  acters, the GM can use the character’s residence to inflict a variety of petty
  annoyances.
  Dormitory housing is a common choice. It’s fairly cheap, convenient to
  classes and usually in good shape – unless the Team has had a party in the next
  room. Drawbacks are noisy neighbors, cramped quarters, and, most of all, room-
  mates (see p. 99). Suitable application of cash to staffers in the Student Housing
  Office can alleviate these problems. Some of the penthouse suites in the high-
  rise dorms are quite nice, but are also expensive! Generally, no one cares who is
  actually living in a given dorm room, and many students take advantage of this,
  if they have accomodating roommates. This does sometimes lead to games of
  “musical roommates,” in both senses.
  Parking Permits 
  Issuing parking tickets and towing
  vehicles are the only things Campus
  Security is competent at; too much so, in
  many students’ opinions. Therefore, any-
  one with a car on campus should get a
  parking permit. A basic student parking
  permit costs $50 per semester, and entitles
  the holder to park in any available space –
  no more than two cars are permitted in any
  parking space – in any student lot (which
  are guaranteed to be at least a mile from
  wherever the student wants to be). Note
  that the University sells roughly three
  times as many student permits as there are
  spaces in the campus student lots . . .
  Illegally-parked vehicles, or those
  without permits, are likely to be towed
  within an hour (roll against Campus
  Security’s Detect Illegally-Parked Vehicle
  skill, at an effective level of 12). A $100
  fine must be paid before the vehicle will
  be released.
  Students with cash to burn can bid in
  the annual auction for “Special” parking
  permits. These entitle the holder to park
  anywhere on campus, and generally cost
  in excess of $1,000 per semester.
  Theoretically, there are enough “Special”
  spaces on campus for the number of per-
  mit holders, but enterprising COUP stu-
  dents do a brisk side-business in forged
  “Special” permits at the start of each
  semester. Prices vary, but are usually $200
  and up. For each week that a student uses
  a forged permit, roll a contest between the
  forger’s original skill roll and Campus
  Security’s skill at detecting bogus permits
  (typically an effective skill of 10). If
  Security wins, the permit is confiscated,
  the car is towed, and a $100 fine is levied
  on the student.
  
  99
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  Off-campus apartments are available at rates ranging from about $100/month
  for a room in someone’s house to entire rental houses (and the occasional man-
  sion). Splitting the cost of a multi-room apartment or house will usually cost
  $100-250/month per student, depending on the size and quality of the place. Most
  students will need to split costs with roommates or housemates, which leads to the
  roommate problem again. Other drawbacks to apartment living include neighbors,
  meal preparation, and, of course, landlords. Apartment dwellers are prone to a
  wide variety of landlord-caused nuisances, ranging from building problems, to
  unusual restrictions (“Never open the drapes after midnight. And don’t open the
  nailed-up door. And no pets!”), to outright extortion (“First and last month’s rent,
  security deposit, cleaning fee, utilities surcharge . . .”).
  Living at home is usually the cheapest option. This is only possible if the stu-
  dent’s parents live in town (or the PC has some exotic means of transportation!).
  The drawback to this, of course, is that the PC is constantly exposed to his parents
  and siblings. (If the parents are Ilumni, this can get even more entertaining . . .)
  For this reason, students may opt to live on campus or in an apartment, anyway.
  TTRRAANNSSPPOORRTTAATTIIOONN
  If the PCs don’t live on campus, they’ll need transportation, and even if they
  do live there, they will need to go off-campus on occasion. The campus and sur-
  rounding town offer a number of options:
  Personal cars are the most flexible form of transportation. However, besides
  the usual costs of buying and operating a car, IOU adds two major expenses.
  First, insurance rates for cars brought to campus are astronomical – they often
  suffer raids from WUSE students on scavenging expeditions, theft by COUP
  students in need of getaway vehicles or collateral damage from routine campus
  activities. To add expense to injury, all cars parked on campus require parking
  permits, which are a major source of University revenue. See the Parking
  Permits sidebar on p. 98.
  Most students can’t afford decent cars, and usually wind up with $500
  junkers from Honest Al’s Used Cars. GMs should note that Murphy’s Law of
  Adventuring Inconvenience definitely applies to these vehicles – any time it is
  absolutely critical that the car start, roll 3d. The car works on a roll of 10 or less.
  Repeated attempts take ten seconds, but have no penalty. On a critical failure,
  the car won’t start until someone with Mechanic skill fixes it.
  Campus shuttles are provided free to University students, staff and faculty.
  (Well, actually it’s not free – the fees are in the fine print of the tuition bill, or in
  payroll deductions for employees. Whether they use the shuttle service or not . . .)
  The shuttle bus service covers much of the surrounding town, and also runs fre-
  quent buses to the Pyramid Mall. While cheap, the buses aren’t particularly conve-
  nient: riders are exposed to the weather while waiting, and the published schedule
  bears little resemblance to when the buses actually arrive. Also, the drivers may
  be inclined to demonstrate pursuit-driving techniques, or compete to see who can
  get closest to pedestrians – or waiting riders – without hitting them.
  Public transportation is available in the surrounding town, though the buses
  cost money. Periodic warfare breaks out between the city bus system and its
  competition, the campus shuttles. When this happens, it’s time for the GM to
  break out the Car Wars set . . .
  Taxis are also available in town. Drivers rarely speak English, and are
  known to drive recklessly at high speeds for hours without finding their destina-
  tions. Even without taking the scenic route, cabs are expensive and risky.
  Roommates
  Roommates can be very annoying. PCs
  should normally have roommates unless
  they’re Wealthy or better, or are living at
  home. (Characters with high Wealth can
  bribe their way into a single room or pay
  for their own private apartment, house or
  even a whole estate!) Ex- (or current!)
  roommates make good Enemies – they
  know the PC’s habits, and usually have a
  selection of good blackmail material,
  besides.
  PCs may try to get each other for room-
  mates to avoid problems (a small cash
  bribe to the Housing Services Retirement
  Fund will allow the character to declare a
  roommate preference). If this happens, the
  sadistic GM can use the petty annoyances
  of close living to foment intra-party strife
  . . .
  Seniors can sometimes get a (small)
  dorm room all to themselves, providing
  underclassthings with incentive to pass
  their classes!
  Food
  Students in the dorms must buy one of
  the Food Service meal plans. There are sev-
  eral dozen of these, and the details change
  each semester. A meal plan determines
  where the student can eat, what type of
  food he’s entitled to and when he can eat.
  Special plans are available for students
  with special needs: kosher, vegetarian and
  vampire diet plans are all offered. The cost
  of basic food service is covered by the
  monthly cost of living for students. Special
  meal plans cost an additional $100/month
  or more.
  Continued on next page . . .
  
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  100
  MMOONNEEYY
  While some expenses (food, housing, basic transportation and recreation)
  are handled by the standard cost of living for the character’s Social Status level,
  there are many uses for extra cash around campus. Lab equipment fees, parking
  fines and replacing personal possessions damaged by the latest WUSE explosion
  all consume cash. (The University disclaims any responsibility for anything that
  happens to students or their possessions on campus – this is written in Sanskrit
  down one margin of the student application form, in 3-point type printed in
  invisible ink.)
  Most students will have to manage their own finances, though occasional calls
  to one’s parents for “emergency funds” are part of everyday student life. (The GM
  may want to make a reaction roll for the parents, with modifiers for the student’s
  grades, and a -5 cumulative modifier for each call in the same semester.)
  SSttaarrttiinngg WWeeaalltthh
  Starting wealth for an IOU campaign is normally the same as for a regular
  modern game: $15,000 for a character with Average Wealth, of which the char-
  acter can use one-fifth for “adventuring equipment,” the rest being standard per-
  sonal possessions like a car, equity in a home, clothes, furniture, etc.
  Because of the special circumstances of students, their starting wealth is
  treated differently. A student’s starting wealth is treated as two levels below his
  actual Wealth level, unless his Wealth level is Very Wealthy or higher. This rep-
  resents two things: first, students don’t generally own much, nor have they had
  time to accumulate much money, and second, most of the student’s money is
  being put toward his tuition expenses. (Thus, the GM doesn’t need to concern
  himself with tracking tuition costs; room and board expenses go into the month-
  ly cost of living.) However, all of the student’s starting wealth may be in
  “adventuring equipment:” a car, personal computer, lockpick kit, stereo and
  other campus necessities.
  Examples: Gillian Brent comes from a family with a Wealth level of
  Average. At IOU, she gets a starting wealth as though her Wealth level were
  Poor, or $3,000. But she can use all of this money any way she wants. Johnathan
  Lirden III is a Multimillionaire – he’s got so much money that even IOU’s
  tuition doesn’t put much of a dent in it. (But he’ll probably get monthly personal
  visits from the ArchDean looking for contributions for new buildings.)
  SSttaattuuss aanndd CCoosstt ooff LLiivviinngg
  The monthly cost of living for IOU inhabitants is dictated by Academic Status.
  Use the modern cost of living table on p. B191, divided by two, to determine the
  monthly cost. (Exception: Freshthings have the same cost of living as other under-
  grads: $150/month; they’re only treated as worse scum than other students.)
  Food 
  (continued)
  As a rule, campus meals are like
  ancient life – nasty, brutish and short. The
  Food Service prides itself on its creative
  menus, which generally means that half
  the meals are simply unpalatable or inedi-
  ble to start with, before the cooks even get
  a chance to add their own special touches.
  Some cafeterias on campus serve better
  food than others; paying for a premium
  meal plan (an extra $100/month) will usu-
  ally result in edible food. Filthy Rich or
  Multimillionaire students can purchase the
  “Five-Star Plan,” which is on-demand
  room service catered from the Cordon
  Bleu chefs in the Croesus Ilumni Center.
  This costs $2,500/month.
  In addition to the Food Service, stu-
  dents can buy food at a number of on-cam-
  pus businesses, including hot-dog carts in
  the Pent, two pizza parlors, the snack bar
  in the Student Union and the Ilumni
  Center. Quality and cost vary widely –
  food from the pushcarts often appears to
  share the dubious origins of cafeteria food,
  but is usually better cooked . . .
  Students can also eat off-campus, or, if
  they have apartments, cook their own
  food. In all cases, assume that food costs
  are included in the monthly cost of living
  for the student’s Social Status level, unless
  the PC wants to eat above his means.
  Recreation
  Students often want to break from
  classwork. (Some of them don’t do any-
  thing but take breaks . . .) IOU offers a
  considerable array of non-academic activi-
  ties for students, ranging from student
  events like moopsball games and
  Grandmaster Killer tournaments, through
  an assortment of campus-sponsored soci-
  eties (including secret ones), complete
  bookie services, protest marches and
  movies, to “private classes” at SPCA and
  public lectures and demonstrations at
  WUSE or the College of Metaphysics.
  Furthermore, the English Department fre-
  quently holds poorly-attended poetry read-
  ings. For students on a budget, standing
  around the Pent and simply waiting for
  something interesting to happen is cheap –
  if dangerous – entertainment. Many stu-
  dents also use the campus computer sys-
  tem to play games, chat with remote
  friends or break into foreign government
  computers.
  Two other important recreational
  events are Summer Vacation and the infa-
  mous Spring Break. Students with money
  (or good Fast-Talk skills) head for the
  southern beaches, where important activi-
  ties include getting tans and observing
  members of the opposite sex in scanty
  clothing.
  
  101
  TThhee iioouu CCaammppaaiiggnn
  JJOOBB TTAABBLLEE
  Most students will want part-time and summer jobs. The Job Table below gives some typical student and campus staff jobs.
  Halve the monthly income given in the table, if the job is part-time.
  Job (prerequisite), Monthly Income
  Success
  Critical failure
  Poor
  Undergraduate on scholarship stipend (IQ 14+), $100
  IQ
  LJ (lose scholarship)
  Struggling
  Administration Clerk (Accounting 11+), $900
  PR
  LJ
  Secretary (Clerical Skills 11+), $1,100
  12
  LJ
  Store/mall Janitor (Cleaning 11+), $1,000
  PR
  -1i/LJ
  Full-time Service Industry (none), $1,000
  12
  LJ
  Manual Labor (ST 10+), $600
  ST
  LJ/5d
  Store Clerk (Merchant 10+), $700
  IQ
  LJ/LJ, 3d
  Student Supported by Parents*, $700
  Fast-Talk-3
  Tuition payments stop
  Teaching Assistant (Teaching 11+), $300
  PR
  LJ/LJ, 2d
  Research Assistant (Research 11+, any Scientific skill 12+), $350
  Worst PR
  LJ/LJ, 4d
  Environmental Activist (Diplomacy or Bard or Politics 11+), $500
  PR
  -2i/LJ, 2d
  Security Guard (ST 10+, any combat skill 11+), $700
  PR
  -1i, LJ/LJ, 4d
  Campus Security (Gullibility), $800
  Move+3**
  3d/10d or vaporized
  Gambler* (Gambling 11+, Fast-Talk 10+), $650
  Worst PR
  -1i/-1i, 4d
  “Geisha”* (Sex Appeal 10+), $75 × PR
  PR
  -1i/-1i, arrested
  Average
  Artist (Art skill 14+), $1,500
  PR
  -1i/-3i
  Health-center Medtech (First Aid 13+, Elec. Ops 11+), $2,500
  PR
  LJ/LS (lawsuit: -1 year’s income)
  Private Investigator* (Streetwise 12+ or Research 12+), $1,200
  Best PR-2
  -2i/3d
  Skilled Labor (Craft skill 12+), $1,400
  PR
  LJ/4d
  University Instructor (Academic speciality 13+), $1,500
  PR
  -2i/LJ
  Clergything (Theology 12+, Social Status 1+), $1,800
  PR
  moved to smaller church; pay cut 20%
  Journalist (IQ 10+, Writing 12+), $1,800
  Best PR
  LJ
  Bodyguard (one combat skill at 12+, ST 11+), $1,000
  ST
  -1i, LJ/-1i, LJ, 4d
  Computer Operator (Computer Operation 11+), $1,175
  PR
  -1i/-1i, LJ
  Computer Hacker* (Hacking 12+), $1,000
  PR-2
  -1i/-3i, arrested
  Comfortable
  Tenured Professor (Academic Specialty 13+, 
  Tenure, Academic Status 3+), $3,500
  PR+Status
  -2i/2d
  Administrator (Administration 13+), $3,500
  PR
  -3i/LJ
  Doctor* (Physician 14+, Social Status 1+), $4,000
  PR-1
  -2i/-10i
  Engineer* (Engineering [specialty] 12+), $4,500
  PR-1
  -2i/-4i
  Black Marketeer* (Streetwise 12+, Merchant 10+), $300×Worst PR
  Streetwise
  -3i/-5i, arrested
  Computer Programmer* (Computer Programming 12+), $3,500
  PR
  -1i/-3i
  Wealthy
  Idle Rich (Social Status 1+), $5,000
  Reaction +8
  allowance cut by 20%
  COUP or WUSE Professor (Academic Specialty 15+, 
  Tenure, Academic Status 2+), $5,000
  PR+Status
  -2i, 1d/4d
  Team Member* (Sport specialty 15+, Reputation 2+), $6,000
  PR-2
  LJ/-5i, LJ
  Rock Star* (Performance 13+, Charisma 2+, Social Status 2+), $5,000
  Perform-2
  -3i/-10i
  High-level Administrator (Administration 15+,
  Academic Status 2+), $5,000
  PR+Status
  -2i/LJ
  Wall Street Trader*
  (Economics 13+, Merchant 12+, Social Status 1+), $5,500
  Worst PR
  -2i/-10i
  Major Corporate Stockholder
  (Economics 14+, Social Status 1+), $10,000
  Economics
  -3i/-10i
  Wall Street Inside Trader* (Economics 13+, Merchant 12+,
  Fast-Talk 12+, Social Status 2+), $20,000
  Economics-6 -5i/-20i, 10 yrs. jail
  * These are freelance jobs with variable income. See p. B193.
  ** Campus Security requires a success roll per week, due to the hazards of the job.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  102
  T
  he assembled deans eyed each other carefully – SSAS
  and the ArchDean were both late to the budget meeting,
  which meant the Mundane must have delayed the
  University’s leader in the hallway.
  This also meant that there was still a little extra time to
  freely . . . discuss financial matters among themselves without
  interference from either the Mundane or their boss.
  The dean of SPCA leaned back in her chair, inhaling
  deeply. “You know, with just a little more than I got last year,
  we could have an absolutely splendid theater line-up,” she
  hinted.
  
  103
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  “Invites to the reception?” asked Metaphysics.
  “It wasn’t worth it, you know.” C.T.H.U.L.H.U.’s dean loosened his scarf,
  surreptitiously moving it away from his neighbor, the Unseen Dean.
  SPCA glared at the time-traveler. COUP smiled a little, offering, “Need a
  hand?” (Neither of his were showing, which meant the lesser deans were watch-
  ing him warily.)
  “Let me,” the Dean of Metaphysics suggested, pointing one taloned finger.
  The dean of WUSE started packing his notebook computer into its blast case.
  Dr. What7 aimed a wide-barreled weapon at the Dean-mon. “I wouldn’t try
  that, ‘Fred.’”
  The Unseen Dean concentrated on the device, and it wavered slightly.
  Various other things happened very quickly, after that.
  When the dust cleared, the assorted deans (the Unseen Dean now younger
  and female; Dr. What7 slightly smug) were left in the middle of a blast-crater.
  Fortunately, the walls and door were still standing. The dean of SCA sighed,
  brushing the sparks off his suit. “This is going to come out of our budgets.”
  Dr. Walters offered Metaphysics a hand up. “Oh, well – as we say in WUSE,
  ‘Any explosion you can walk away from is a good one.’”
  The door opened, falling off its hinges. “Starting the meeting without me?”
  the ArchDean inquired lightly. The singed administrators tried to look abashed
  and innocent at the same time, with little success. The new COUP Dean added
  puzzlement to her expression. The ArchDean raised an eyebrow at the leader of
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. “Been vacationing in alternate universes again? Or just sabo-
  taging the reality stabilizers?”
  The Doctor shrugged. “It was just a little sideways swap. Nothing fancy.”
  “I do hope the bloodfeud papers are what landed on my desk 15 minutes
  ago.” The ArchDean paused, tsking at the shambles for a moment, and then con-
  tinued with a frown, “Dear me, I can’t be five minutes late, and now we’ll have to
  get another pot of coffee for the meeting. And that was my favorite table, too.”
  “Fred” muttered to his companion, “Well, I don’t think we’re gonna be
  walking away from this explosion . . .”
  Central to the style of an Illuminati University campaign is the ready avail-
  ability of unusual abilities, beyond the ken of the largely mundane world.
  Weirdness comes in many forms, including technological gadgets, magical abili-
  ties, psionics and superpowers. Other GURPS sourcebooks cover these areas in
  detail, but some special considerations for IOU campaigns are discussed in the
  following sections.
  TECHNOLOGY
  The University harbors an improbable number of garage-shop tinkerers,
  eccentric gadgeteers and outright mad scientists. These keep the campus awash in
  strange tech, some of it ahead of its time, some of it behind the times and some
  that doesn’t belong in any sane time. Storerooms under WUSE contain centuries’
  worth of thesis projects; thankfully, most are no longer in working order, and use-
  ful primarily to current-day grad students scavenging parts for their soon-to-be
  discarded research projects. Sometimes, though, a rummaging student or a stray
  tunnel rat accidentally sets some long-forgotten project running again.
  The Basic Set gives the standard rules for Tech Levels, inventions and rais-
  ing campaign TL on pp. B185-187. IOU adds special rules for Gadgeteering
  starting on p. 111. (For Silly IOU games, the GM should strongly consider allow-
  ing the 50-point Quick Gadgeteering advantage.) Useful ideas for weird tech can
  be drawn from a number of GURPS sourcebooks, including Ultra-Tech,
  Weird Science and TL
  Modifiers 
  The Weird Science skill can be used to
  reduce the Tech Level modifiers for
  Scientific skills. On a successful Weird
  Science skill roll, reduce the TL penalty
  by the amount by which the Weird
  Science roll was made. (When used in this
  way, Weird Science cannot increase
  effective skill – at most, it cancels out the
  Tech Level penalty.)
  Example: Astarte, a student with
  Computer Programming/TL7, needs to
  reprogram a TL8 Martian warbot that’s
  trying to steal a critical bit of IOU tech –
  the coffee machine in the student lounge.
  Normally, she’d have a -5 modifier to her
  skill roll, since she’s dealing with a TL8
  computer, one Tech Level above hers.
  Fortunately, she also has Weird Science-
  16. She rolls a 12, reducing the Computer
  Programming penalty to -1. The GM tells
  Astarte’s player that the mummified garlic
  bagel left lying on the couch looks like it
  might fit into the warbot’s programming
  cartridge slot. If Astarte’s player had
  rolled a 10, the TL modifier would have
  been reduced only to 0; she could not have
  gotten a +1 to skill.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  104
  Vehicles, Robots, Atomic Horror, Cyberpunk and Space. Below are some addi-
  tional rules for handling the mixture of Tech Levels and ultra-powerful gadgets
  that are needed to provide the proper “flavor” in an Illuminati University setting.
  TTLL 77 77//88
  The Tech Level of the “standard” IOU campus is a little bit in advance of
  “modern-day” technology, which means it is generally late TL7, with some
  early TL8 equipment, especially in the areas of computers and surveillance
  devices. Items of higher TLs are not uncommon on campus, but they are gener-
  ally one-of-a-kind prototypes, imported alien technology or perhaps Precursor
  artifacts left on Earth in ancient times. In other words, PC equipment should be
  late TL7, unless the character is either an alien or a Gadgeteer. Likewise, start-
  ing characters will have TL7 skills, unless their background dictates otherwise.
  (Note that characters from other Tech Levels will have trouble with the primi-
  tive/advanced gadgets on campus – GMs should remember to enforce the TL
  difference penalties on p. B185.)
  On the other hand, the eclectic mix of professorial backgrounds means that
  scientific and engineering courses are offered at a variety of Tech Levels, often
  ones higher than TL7. However, due to laboratory equipment problems (see
  Gadgeteering at IOU, p. 105), it is rare for skills to be taught at levels above TL9.
  DDOO--IITT--YYOOUURRSSEELLFF RRUUBBBBEERR SSCCIIEENNCCEE
  From time to time the GM (or players) may need to provide some sort of
  plausible-sounding explanation for a typical bit of WUSE or alien superscience.
  For the benefit of the less scientifically-literate GM, we provide the following
  set of class notes from IOU’s own Physics 103.1415, “The Poet’s Guide to the
  Wonderful World of Physics.” (Don’t try this at home – but if anyone manages
  to do anything useful in the real world using this information, the authors will
  be happy to accept their half of the Nobel Prize, and 50% of the royalties.)
  Special relativity: Einstein created this theory near the beginning of the 20th
  century, to keep starships from traveling faster than the speed of light, and to
  enable people to create bigger and better explosions by turning matter into ener-
  gy, like in atomic bombs. Fortunately, most alien races, like most truckers,
  ignore Einstein and his silly speed limit. WUSE professors will happily turn
  large amounts of matter into stupendous amounts of energy, though.
  General relativity: this theory was created by Einstein to plug the loopholes
  in special relativity, to try to explain gravity, and to confuse the few people who
  actually understood special relativity. General relativity is a good explanation
  for anything that involves warping space or time, and is useful when you want
  to make a black hole or two. Both special and general relativity apply primarily
  to things that move very fast, are very far away or are extremely large, like the
  national debt.
  Quantum mechanics: this theory was first created about the same time as
  relativity, to explain some weird phenomena that occurred at very small scales,
  inside the atom. (Reputable physicists at the beginning of the 20th century no
  longer ascribed such activities to demons, at least in public.) Quantum mechan-
  ics (or QM) states that certain things are uncertain in a very precise way, at a
  very small scale. It holds atoms and atomic nuclei together, lets you create ener-
  gy and matter out of nothing (as long as you promise to destroy it again very
  quickly), and lets you get rid of the black holes you created using relativity. It
  also allows objects to pass through walls, or jump from point A to point B with-
  out going through any of the points in between. Therefore, QM is a good expla-
  nation for teleportation, or anything that can’t get enough energy just from sim-
  ple nuclear explosions.
  Control Ratings
  and Legality Classes 
  Social Control Ratings and equipment
  Legality Classes (see p. B249) are
  designed to model social restrictions on
  weapons and other anti-social technology.
  The United States (where most IOU cam-
  puses are) is roughly CR 3 to 4 – pistols
  and other hand weapons require a license,
  which usually isn’t too difficult to get, but
  other items of nominally higher Legality
  Class may be restricted. The IOU campus,
  however, is effectively CR -2; anyone can
  openly carry just about anything without
  being hassled. But don’t take your ther-
  monuclear bazooka off-campus . . .
  There are some items at IOU that
  would have Legality Classes below 0 –
  many of WUSE’s more energetic toys, for
  example. Even the ArchDean’s tolerance
  for mass destruction is taxed by strategic
  thermonuclear weapons or Mega-
  DeathRays. Also, students are advised
  against carrying heavy armaments (or
  other equipment of presumably hostile
  use) into the offices of major professors,
  department heads, administrators or deans.
  And people shouldn’t even consider bring-
  ing such gear when summoned to the
  ArchDean’s office!
  
  105
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  Grand Unified Theories (GUTs): after Einstein, physicists needed some-
  thing new to generate research papers and justify billion-dollar research projects
  like the Superconducting Super-Collider. (No, we didn’t make that up – it’s
  real.) Someone hit on the clever notion of the “Grand Unified Theory,” which
  tries to explain that electromagnetism, the weak and strong nuclear forces and
  gravity are all really the same force, only different. (Got that? These people are
  mostly trying to prove that they’re smarter than Einstein, who couldn’t figure
  out how to get this idea funded, and also that they’re better at confusing other
  physicists.) The more adventurous physicists also throw in time and space as
  part of the bundle.
  There are lots of proposed GUTs, with catchy names like “supersymmetry”
  and “String Theory.” Mostly they try to explain what happened during and after
  the Big Bang that started the universe. GUTs are most useful to explain how you
  built a pocket universe in your dorm-room closet, or to justify an antigravity
  gadget.
  Chaos theory: while not strictly physics, recent developments in mathemat-
  ics have opened new vistas in the physical sciences. Chaos theory basically
  states that under the right conditions, a vary small change in the input to a physi-
  cal system may produce a very large change in the output, in a somewhat unpre-
  dictable manner (especially if you mix in quantum mechanics). For example,
  chaos theory now allows us to understand why, despite ever-bigger and better
  satellites and computers, the U.S. Weather Service still can’t predict the weather
  accurately – weather is a chaotic phenomenon.
  Since most real physical systems are at least partly governed by chaotic
  mathematical equations, chaos theory is a good explanation for practically any-
  thing, though it’s especially useful for avoiding awkward questions about psion-
  ics, like where the energy for PK comes from.
  PNAMBC science: this is a catch-all category for things the GM can’t other-
  wise explain away. It stands for “Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the
  Curtain,” and boils down to, “It works because the GM says so. Don’t ask any
  more silly questions unless you want your character eaten by Quantum
  Armadillos from Beyond Time and Space.”
  GADGETEERING
  AT IOU
  Characters at IOU will want to build
  new gadgets from time to time. These things
  may be totally new (and possibly of a higher
  Tech Level), or merely things that already
  exist, but are hard to obtain. For example,
  inter-continental ballistic missiles are TL7
  technology, but if a student wants one, he’s
  going to have to create it from scratch – you
  can’t buy them at the corner drug store, or at
  a local yard sale (unless you happen to be
  shopping in Russia around 1994).
  The rules given here are intended for use
  when producing a single prototype device,
  not something engineered for production. At
  most a half-dozen or a dozen copies might be
  made – IOU is not a manufacturing facility!
  There are four ways to create new gadgets:
  Catalogs 
  In a Silly IOU campaign, the GM may
  want to introduce the very cinematic (car-
  toon-like, even) gimmick of the mail-order
  catalog. (Male-order and female-order cat-
  alogs are handled by the SPCA. And then
  there are the thing-order catalogs. It’s bet-
  ter not to discuss those . . .) These are pri-
  marily useful to characters with great
  Wealth levels. With such a catalog, you
  simply find the item you want, touch the
  picture and a Temporal Express truck dri-
  ves up and delivers it. (Of course, since
  they have time travel, they also billed your
  credit card last year. So it goes.)
  Using mail-order catalogs carries its
  own risks. For one, catalog companies
  don’t always get the order exactly right –
  sometimes you order an Uzi and get three
  years of back-issues of Playmeep maga-
  zine. In the middle of a firefight, this can
  be very embarrassing . . .
  Catalogs often have discontinued items
  at low prices. Sometimes there are good
  reasons why the items were discontinued.
  (The evil GM might wish to consult the
  Guaranteed Play-Balance Table or the
  Random Side-Effects Table, pp 107-108.)
  Unless the character somehow obtains
  a future-time or alien catalog, the items
  available will be limited to mundane TL7
  technology, and the GM may still wish to
  enforce Control Ratings. (“Availability of
  nuclear devices may vary by country.
  Please bribe your local Customs officials
  accordingly.”) Some items may be too
  large for Temporal Express to deliver – if
  the PC orders a Boeing 747, he should
  expect a slight delay in delivery.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  106
  Inventions: this is the mundane way for creating new technology. It’s slow,
  hard and dull. See the New Inventions rules on p. B186.
  Higher-TL skills: in this case, the would-be inventor knows how to build the
  device, but it’s of a higher Tech Level than the components and equipment
  available to build it. This route is primarily open to aliens and time-travelers,
  though such skills can also be learned in a few advanced courses in WUSE. Use
  the rules for Building Up Local Technology on p. B186, except that no extra
  time is required to actually build up the local Tech Level – there is enough
  strange junk around campus that something can usually be managed. However,
  the result will not be as good as the “real thing” – the GM should use the
  Guaranteed Play-Balance Table, below, to see what sort of problems resulted
  from using primitive tools and components.
  Gadgeteering: for this option, the developer must have the Gadgeteer
  advantage (p. 18). Read further to find more Gadgeteering rules on p. 111. Costs
  can be ignored by faculty and student characters – the University will supply lab
  and shop equipment and prototyping materials. (It will also wind up owning any
  rights to the new invention, but this is buried in the fine print in the admissions
  applications and contracts with professors; characters will probably not know
  this.) Very expensive projects will require convincing a dean or even the
  ArchDean that the cost is worthwhile.
  Weird Science: this skill can be used in conjunction with any of the above
  techniques. A successful roll gives a +5 bonus to both the “conception” and
  “working model” rolls for regular inventions. Gadgeteering gets a +1 to effective
  skill from a successful Weird Science roll, and Weird Science skill can also
  reduce or eliminate TL penalties when building gadgets using primitive equip-
  ment (see the sidebar Weird Science and TL Modifiers on p. 103). The drawback
  to using Weird Science is that all devices built using this skill have strange side
  effects – 1d-3 of them (minimum 1). The GM should roll for these (or choose
  them) using the Random Side-Effect Table, below. Also, devices built using
  Weird Science are strictly “one-of-a-kind” items – they can’t be reproduced reli-
  ably. To make another similar gadget, it has to be re-invented, from scratch!
  IOU in Space 
  While the University has some access
  to space, it is best to restrict space-travel
  to the Solar System only, with the rare
  exception of the occasional visiting alien
  craft that might be willing to give a few
  people a lift – for a price. Some WUSE
  professors might be working on a
  stardrive, but sensible characters won’t
  want to be guinea pigs for something that
  might leave them stranded in the
  Andromeda galaxy, which is a little far for
  AAA road service . . .
  Though reliable – or mostly reliable –
  stardrives are best left to alien NPCs, IOU
  characters may be able to acquire, or
  invent, various technologies useful for
  interplanetary travel, including reaction-
  less drives and contragravity (see GURPS
  Space for spaceship design rules). This
  gives the GM lots of excuses for stranding
  characters in strange places. And maybe
  the IOU version of the Solar System is
  more like science fiction writers used to
  picture it, back in the 1950s. (Or perhaps
  NASA is part of an Illuminati plot to sup-
  press evidence that there are aliens on
  every planet in the system!)
  Of course, alien characters need trans-
  port to and from Earth at semester start
  and end. This is best handled by NPC
  agencies: parents, interstellar traders mak-
  ing a special detour to an off-route planet,
  interplanetary teleportation from the
  homeworld or even hitchhiking. Alien
  characters should not come equipped with
  starships, unless the GM is prepared to run
  an Illuminati University/GURPS Space
  crossover campaign. If interstellar travel is
  expensive and has to be scheduled in
  advance, it will have little impact on the
  campaign, other than to introduce a few
  weird characters and gadgets.
  Interstellar communications is another
  potential problem. The GM will have to
  decide if he wants alien students phoning
  home. It’s easiest to say that there aren’t
  any interstellar communications, other
  than sending letters along with the occa-
  sional visiting UFO. However, it may be
  amusing to let destitute alien students
  phone home for money once in a while . . .
  collect. If interstellar phone calls are per-
  mitted, they should probably be expensive,
  otherwise alien students can call parents,
  siblings and friends for backup, which will
  seriously warp the flavor of the campaign.
  
  107
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  When someone invents something of a higher Tech Level than the “nor-
  mal” TL, whether using the regular invention rules, Gadgeteering, or simply
  knowledge of a higher TL, the GM should roll 3d on the Guaranteed Play-
  Balance Table (or simply pick something appropriate). For very complex
  gadgets (or very unbalancing ones), the GM may want to roll multiple times.
  At a minimum, gadgets should double in size and weight for every Tech
  Level below their nominal TLs, i.e., ×2 for TL8, ×4 for TL9, ×8 for TL10 and
  so on.
  GGUUAARRAANNTTEEEEDD PPLLAAYY--BBAALLAANNCCEE TTAABBLLEE
  GM rolls 3d, or picks something appropriate.
  3 – Roll 3d for each use (each hour of use for continually-operating
  devices). On a result of 6 or less, an agent of the Interstellar T’vorging
  Commission teleports in and tells the operator to cease generating k’fith parti-
  cles at once! If the PC doesn’t comply, the agent will frown at the gadget and it
  will disappear, immediately followed by the agent.
  4 – If the gadget is normally hand-held, it is so large and heavy as to need a
  cart or vehicle to move it around; if normally a vehicle-borne device, it needs a
  really big vehicle, like a battleship, or must be mounted in a building; if normal-
  ly the size of a small building, the device takes up a city block.
  5 – Each use of the gadget (or hour of constant use) consumes $250 worth
  of exotic chemicals, rare herbs or the like.
  6 – The device has 1d+1 side-effects (see the Random Side-Effect Table,
  below).
  7 – The PC carrying the gadget is so inconvenienced by its awkward shape
  and balance that all his DX rolls are made at a -2 penalty.
  8 – The gadget has 1d-2 (minimum 1) side-effects.
  9 – If normally powered by batteries or power cells, the device requires a
  large power supply, like building power or a vehicle power plant; if normally
  requiring power in the megawatt range, it needs to be tied into the North
  American power grid and causes brownouts whenever used. (Magical devices
  use three times normal Fatigue.)
  10 – The gadget is twice as large, twice as heavy and uses twice as much
  power as it should. (Magical items use 50% more Fatigue than normal.) If it is a
  weapon, damage, range and Acc bonus are halved, and SS increases by 4.
  11 – The gadget gets too hot to handle after one or two uses, and must cool
  down for ten minutes before it can be used again. (If used before it cools off, it
  burns out in a shower of sparks and inflicts 1d burn damage on the user.)
  12 – Each use of the gadget (or hour of use for constantly-operating
  devices) consumes $25 worth of exotic chemicals, rare herbs or the like.
  13 – The gadget is unreliable, and fails on a skill roll of 14 or higher.
  14 – The device requires repairs after every use; it will not work until
  repaired. (Magical items require a Repair spell after every use.)
  15 – The device has a recoil like a heavy projectile weapon (even if it isn’t a
  gun). The user must make a DX roll for every use to avoid being knocked down.
  16 – The gadget is very unreliable, and fails on a skill roll of 10 or higher.
  17 – The device is very complicated to operate. If a weapon, it takes five
  seconds to ready. (This represents pushing buttons, chanting, etc.) Non-weapon
  gadgets require two hours of painstaking preparation before each use.
  18 – On any critical failure using the device, it self-destructs in some appro-
  priately-spectacular fashion. The user must make a DX roll at -2, or take 2d
  damage as the gadget vaporizes itself. The entire gadget is gone, and cannot be
  repaired or even broken down for usable parts.
  Character Death
  (or Otherwise) 
  Even the most ardent IOU-booster will
  admit that life on campus is, well, interest-
  ing. (Translation: risky.) Alien invasions,
  out-of-control scientific experiments and
  animals mutated by toxic wastes and radia-
  tion from poorly-shielded nuclear-powered
  lawnmowers all take their toll on students.
  Then there are the normal hazards of stu-
  dent life: cafeteria food, field trips, finals
  and UV overdoses from Florida beaches
  during Spring Break.
  Since the University has yet to find a
  way of making a significant profit from
  dead students (they don’t pay tuition, and
  the medical cadaver market prefers mostly
  intact bodies), the ArchDean has decreed
  that all students should be covered by
  Student Health Insurance. Rather than
  paying off when you die, however (heav-
  en – or someplace – forbid that the
  University pay out money), IOU health
  insurance makes sure that you don’t die.
  Permanently, anyway.
  At this point, the savvy GM is proba-
  bly asking, “But how can I threaten the
  PCs if they know they won’t die?” Don’t
  worry – you see, all that the insurance sys-
  tem does is guarantee that the PCs won’t
  die. It says absolutely nothing about the
  quality of life . . . 
  Therefore, sadistic GMs can indulge
  themselves, and fold, spindle and mutilate
  characters all they want, or at least as
  much as they can get away with before
  being lynched by the players. And if
  things go a bit too far, the PC wakes up
  the next morning in a bed in the Student
  Health Service infirmary (see p. 48).
  The precise means of the hapless PC’s
  return to life, liberty and pursuit of mem-
  bers of the appropriate gender need not be
  detailed – IOU is full of mysteries not
  meant to be explained to mere students.
  However, a number of gadgets and magi-
  cal spells and items are available to
  account for the resurrection. See entries
  on the Resurrectatron (p. 84), the
  SuperDuplicator (p. 84), Braindumping
  (p. 82), The Crockpot of the Gods (p. 85)
  and Life-Savers (p. 85). For the tradition-
  alists, there are also the old standbys – the
  Lightning-Powered 
  Slab 
  of 
  the
  Reanimation and Zombie spells.
  Unfortunately for accident-prone char-
  acters, most of the means of restoring life
  have side-effects. The GM should reward
  truly outrageous PC stupidity by allowing
  the character to be the first on his block to
  try out some new – and un-debugged –
  resurrection procedure. Say, the
  Reincarnatron. Life as a sentient house-
  plant will probably keep the character out
  of trouble for a while . . .
  Continued on next page . . .
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  108
  RRAANNDDOOMM SSIIDDEE--EEFFFFEECCTT TTAABBLLEE
  The GM rolls 3d, or chooses something appropriate.
  3 – Each use causes a small, cumulative change in the user’s body or mind.
  Roll vs. HT+4 (IQ+4) for each use, or acquire -1 point toward a physical (men-
  tal) disadvantage of the GM’s choice.
  4 – Every use of the device inflicts 1d damage on the user (bypassing  DR).
  5 – Each use causes one point of damage to the operator (bypassing DR).
  6 – The gadget mutates one person (choose randomly) within 10 yards into
  an animal (GM’s choice) for 10 turns.
  7 – The device makes an incredibly annoying, high-pitched screech when
  used. This gives everyone within 20 yards a headache for ten minutes (-1 to all
  rolls). The user gets a migraine (-3 to all rolls for twenty minutes.) Earplugs
  don’t help, though Deafness does.
  8 – Use of the gadget disrupts electronics of a lower TL: TVs and radios
  within one mile get nothing but static, computers within 100 yards crash on a
  roll of 7 or less on 3d, within 10 yards even flashlights and other simple devices
  are affected. This effect is popular with scanning devices on UFOs. (Magical
  items produce local mana disruptions that cause a -3 penalty to all spellcasting
  within 10 yards for the next ten turns.)
  9 – The device produces noxious fumes in a 4-hex radius. These do no dam-
  age, but are extremely unpleasant to breathe. Anything that breathes must make
  an HT+3 roll each turn they breathe in the area, or suffer mild nausea for five
  minutes (-1 to all rolls).
  10 – The gadget produces a loud hum in operation (+3 to Hearing rolls to
  notice it).
  11 – Use of the device is accompanied by impressive, but harmless, special
  effects – beams of colored light, showers of sparks, et cetera. The source of the
  effect will be obvious to any watcher, and anyone in the area gets a +5 to Vision
  to notice something is going on.
  12 – The gadget emits dense clouds of steam or smoke while in operation.
  Treat as a Fog spell of radius 4 (see p. B159 or M40).
  13 – Every use of the gadget attracts swarms of nearby meeps, tunnel rats,
  IRS agents or other vermin of the GM’s choice. The swarms disperse ten min-
  utes after the device is shut off.
  Character Death
  (or Otherwise) 
  (continued)
  Characters with The Treatment advan-
  tage (p. 20) usually don’t die in the first
  place. By whatever mysterious means, the
  character simply shrugs off deadly toxins,
  falling from orbit, nuclear explosions and
  similar indignities. Generally, The
  Treatment is limited to high-level faculty,
  and student PCs will have to make do with
  Student Health Insurance.
  In a Darkly Illuminated campaign style
  (see p. 97), the GM may wish to eliminate
  Student Health Insurance. Even if it exists,
  he should not tell players that it does, and
  the No Insurance disadvantage cannot be
  taken. Also, even if the characters can
  return from the dead, they may find a very
  unwelcome price attached. So it goes . . .
  When PCs Own 
  Too Much 
  Occasionally, characters will accumu-
  late loot and booty beyond what the GM
  can deal with. (The stealthed physics van
  was bad enough, but when the students
  add the car-mounted hypnogogic projec-
  tors that they stole from the invading
  aliens?) If the GM can no longer come up
  with a satisfying challenge except via a
  technological or magical arms-race –
  which is rarely satisfying – it’s time to
  level the playing field again.
  There are several ways to deprive the
  PCs of their hard-won toys. The most
  obvious is to break them – while they can
  probably be fixed with Weird Science or
  Weird Magic, such repairs will add side-
  effects. For a item that is only mildly
  obnoxious, a professor can appropriate it
  for research (allowing the PCs to “bor-
  row” it occasionally, but they have to put
  it back). Or, for a truly dangerous widget,
  the ArchDean can decide it’s a threat to
  the University and confiscate it – person-
  ally. And then there’s collateral damage;
  high-entropy stuff happens on campus all
  the time, and innocently bystanding things
  just aren’t safe.
  Excess money is even easier to deal
  with, especially if the PCs get sent to the
  Infirmary a lot: raise the Health Insurance
  rates until the students are back at a decent
  level of poverty, or maybe “discover” that
  some of the classes the PCs signed up for
  have required materials, books and bribes
  that are expensive. 
  
  109
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  14 – Using the gadget renders the operator unconscious for 1d minutes.
  15 – Each use of the device attracts the attention of nearby demons or
  punches holes into random dimensions through which strange creatures appear.
  16 – The device inflicts one point of damage (bypassing DR) per use, on
  everyone within 10 yards, including the user.
  17 – Every use of the gadget opens a gate into a random dimension for 1
  turn; the user must roll vs. DX to avoid falling into the hole before it closes.
  18 – Each time the device is used, roll for a different random side-effect. (If
  this result comes up, roll for two side-effects!)
  AALLIIEENN TTEECCHH
  In the grand tradition of the supermarket tabloids, the Earth of Illuminati
  University is littered with artifacts left behind by alien visitors. Some of these
  aliens visited in the geologically-distant past, and are known as Precursors. Such
  races include the Tee-Hee-Chee and the Po-Peel. Other races stopped by to build
  the Egyptian pyramids, or sink Atlantis. More recent visitors buzz small towns
  in Kansas, or pick up medical specimens on remote roads in New England.
  There are even Postcursors – time-tripping aliens from the future who have
  stopped off in a picturesque little millennium for lunch. No matter what the race,
  though, all these aliens have one thing in common: they’re slobs, and they never
  pick up their garbage when they leave.
  Many such alien remnants are discovered by alert IOU field teams, dili-
  gently pursuing tans in the Bermuda Triangle or looking for Inca gold to steal
  . . . ah, artifacts to bring back to the University museum. PCs will
  often be members of such teams, or may be tasked with analyzing
  alien gadgets as part of their classwork.
  When someone attempts to operate an alien device of unknown
  purpose, first, have them choose a skill and roll against it. If the skill
  is inappropriate and the skill roll is a success, he realizes that skill
  doesn’t apply and may try another; otherwise, he continues with the
  useless skill (treat as a failure by 10 for an appropriate skill). The GM
  then rolls 3d, adds the amount the skill roll was made or failed by, and
  consults the Enigmatic Alien Device Button-Pushing Table below.
  Each attempt takes one minute. Repeated attempts are possible:
  for each failure of the skill roll, apply a cumulative -1 modifier to the
  next attempt. The table assumes a device of moderate complexity
  including a number of controls without comprehensible labels, e.g., a
  TL10 blaster rifle, a radscanner or a space suit. Very simple or very
  complex devices should have appropriate modifiers applied to the
  GM’s roll. The Intuition advantage can be useful in selecting the right
  skill, and also provides a +4 bonus to the GM’s roll.
  Example: Hal has found a Precursor artifact that resembles a glow-
  ing potato with warts. He wants to figure out what it is, so he uses his
  Weird Science skill of 15 (lacking anything obviously more suitable).
  Hal’s player rolls a 16, so the modifier is a -1. The GM rolls a 7, so
  poor Hal decides the device is some sort of musical instrument and
  tries to blow into a hole he finds in one of the warts. Hal breathes in
  some toxic cooling vapors and suffers 3 points of damage.
  Note that Earthlings are unlikely to completely figure out alien
  tech, unless they happen to have very high levels in relevant skills (or
  Weird Science), or get very lucky – the cumulative failure modifier will
  eventually get them in trouble if they don’t stop random button-pushing
  fairly quickly. A different character can start from scratch, though; other
  people can bring fresh insights on the problem.
  Gadgets for 
  Non-Gadgeteers 
  Many characters will just wish to use
  high-tech equipment – they couldn’t care
  less how it was made, as long as it works.
  Mere use of these gadgets doesn’t require
  the Gadgeteering advantage – just money
  or character points.
  It is up to the GM to decide whether
  the desired gadget has already been
  invented. If not, the PC must find a gad-
  geteer and commission him to invent the
  thing, paying the required development
  cost (p. 112) and waiting the required time
  for results. Then figure the production
  cost as per p.113, and charge the character
  150% of the production cost.
  On the other hand, if the device has
  already been invented, and is in produc-
  tion, it need not be developed. If the PC
  can find the source, he can buy the item at
  150% of the production cost.
  If the PC can’t afford the cost, and
  doesn’t have (or want) a patron who will
  pay for his equipment, he may spend char-
  acter points to get money – 1 character
  point equals one month’s salary at his reg-
  ular job, or (if he has no job) at the best
  job he is qualified for.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  110
  These rules can also be used when characters analyze magical devices using
  unknown spells, or forgotten research projects found in sub-basements of WUSE
  buildings. In the latter case, apply a +2 modifier to the GM’s roll – at least some of
  the device’s labels will help. If the thesis related to the device can be located (tak-
  ing a Research-5 skill roll) an additional bonus of +4 should be applied to the roll
  on the table. But even with the manual, operation isn’t automatic – the documenta-
  tion rarely matches the prototype, and the grad student may have fudged the data!
  EENNIIGGMMAATTIICC AALLIIEENN DDEEVVIICCEE BBUUTTTTOONN--PPUUSSHHIINNGG TTAABBLLEE
  GM rolls 3d. On repeated attempts by the same character, re-roll results that
  duplicate or are subsumed by previous results.
  0 or less – the character takes 3d of damage, and the device is destroyed. (If the
  device is indestructible, it vaporizes everything within ten yards instead, and
  is later recovered from the crater by an NPC.)
  1 – the device’s primary effect is applied to the experimenter, if possible; if not,
  the character takes 2d damage.
  2 – the device’s primary effect is applied to a nearby character, if possible; if
  not, a nearby character takes 2d damage from a side-effect.
  3 – the experimenter takes 3d damage from the device.
  4 – a nearby character takes 3d damage from the device.
  5 – the experimenter takes 1d damage from a device side-effect.
  6 – a nearby character takes 1d damage from a device side-effect.
  7 – the experimenter suffers superficial damage from a device side-effect.
  8 – a nearby character suffers superficial damage from a device side-effect.
  9 – the experimenter suffers an embarrassing mishap while trying to operate the
  device: he gets a body part stuck to it, or suffers some unpleasant minor side-
  effect.
  10 – the PC forms an erroneous theory concerning the device’s purpose, possi-
  bly being misled by a secondary function or side-effect.
  11 – nothing happens: the PC gains no useful insight into the device’s nature or
  operation, but at least it didn’t do anything nasty . . .
  12 – the character locates one of the device’s less-obvious controls (but doesn’t
  find out what it does).
  13 – the PC discovers the power switch that turns the device on and off.
  14 – the experimenter gets a clue concerning the purpose of the device.
  15 – the device’s main function is clearly demonstrated (possibly by blowing a
  large hole in something inanimate – and expensive – nearby), and the charac-
  ter can now operate this function, at a skill penalty of -4.
  16 – a procedure is discovered that reliably operates a single secondary function
  (with no skill penalty).
  17 – the location and general nature of all secondary device controls is deduced,
  and these functions can be used at a skill penalty of -4.
  18 – the PC figures out how to operate the major controls and can use the main
  function of the device at no skill penalty.
  19 – the operator discovers all the functions of the device, and all relevant oper-
  ating procedures, and can use all device functions at no skill penalty.
  20 or higher – as 19, and the character finds a totally serendipitous – and useful
  – application of the device that the creators never thought of!
  Modifiers:
  amount character skill roll was made or failed by
  -1 for each skill-roll failure after the first
  +5 if the device controls are simple and obvious
  +1 to +5 for a device of simple function
  Loaning or 
  Selling Gadgets 
  If a gadgeteer is a member of the party,
  there will be times when the other charac-
  ters want to use his devices.
  Realistically, unless a given device
  requires special knowledge, anybody
  should be able to use it. Body armor,
  recoilless weapons, gas grenades and so
  on are simple to use. But in terms of game
  balance, one gadgeteer should not be able
  to outfit the whole party with ultra-tech
  devices.
  In general, the GM should restrict the
  use of gadgets to their creator except in
  unusual circumstances. Non-gadgeteers
  should be unwilling to place their faith in
  unfamiliar devices. (At IOU, there are
  usually good reasons for this!)
  Alternatively, if a gadgeteer’s friends
  want to use some of his devices, they can
  pay character points for the privilege.
  They do not have to be gadgeteers them-
  selves; they would buy the devices as per
  the sidebar on p. 113, paying 15 points for
  the Unusual Background “Has gadgeteer
  friend,” and money for the gadgets.
  
  111
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  -5 for an incredibly complex device with lots of controls (e.g., a starship, a
  computer or a TL7 VCR).
  -4 for poking at device with a stick
  -2 for decent waldos (remote manipulators)
  -1 for using psi or magic to manipulate the device from a theoretically safe
  distance
  +4 if the PC has Intuition
  +2 if the character has Danger Sense
  GADGETEERING: INVENTING
  NEW DEVICES
  A gadgeteer builds technological
  equipment that the GM feels can be reason-
  ably accomplished. At IOU, “reasonably”
  is a very flexible term – this can include
  devices of higher tech levels, as well as
  weird applications of mundane technology,
  and may even include supergadgets.
  The Gadgeteer advantage reflects the character’s aptitude in quickly creat-
  ing new equipment or modifying existing equipment. It doesn’t just mean the
  hero is unusually smart or knowledgeable; it represents a broad, intuitive capaci-
  ty for inventing
  Every gadget has a specific area of knowledge required to create it. The
  gadgeteer may wish to specialize in one or two areas to start, then expand his
  horizons as he progresses in experience. The GM will assign the prerequisite
  skills for each gadget.
  CCRREEAATTIINNGG NNEEWW EEQQUUIIPPMMEENNTT
  Creating new gear requires the character to have a good understanding of
  the field he is working in. For example, someone trying to invent a new type of
  weapon must have a high skill in Engineer (Weapon Type) in order to succeed.
  The level of expertise required should depend on the complexity of the device
  (which is decided by the GM):
  Simple gadget: requires skill 12-14
  Average gadget: requires skill 15-17
  Complex gadget: requires skill 18-20
  Amazing gadget: requires skill 21+
  A player who wants to create a new gadget must have an explanation for its
  operation and must describe it to the GM in a logical manner. The GM is free to
  accept or reject the design depending on its feasibility.
  TTiimmee RReeqquuiirreedd
  A simple gadget will only take 1d-2 (minimum 1) days to develop. Average
  complexity calls for 2d days, a complex gadget takes 1d months, and an amaz-
  ing gadget takes 3d months. These times assume that the character works eight
  hours a day on the invention. If the gadgeteer works 16 hours a day, time is cut
  by 50%, but he must make a HT roll each morning or suffer fatigue as if he only
  got a half-night of sleep (see sidebar, p. B134). Fatigue points lost in this man-
  ner can’t be regained without taking a break from the project, which will add 1d
  days to it! If the PC has the Doesn’t Sleep advantage (p. SU39 or GURPS
  Fantasy Folk, p. 18), only 1 fatigue roll per week is necessary.
  Bugs in Gadgets
  Newly-designed gadgets normally
  have bugs in them. A critical success on
  the skill roll for building the device results
  in a gadget with no bugs (other than those
  side-effects imposed for too-high TL or
  use of Weird Science). A normal success
  results in a working gadget with 1d6/2
  (round up) minor bugs. These are usually
  annoying little problems that result in
  small penalties in operating the device: a
  weapon has a Malf number of 16, or a
  lower Acc bonus, or 10% less range than
  expected; vehicles have minor handling
  problems, “blind spots,” or fuel-efficiency
  problems; other gadgets are awkward to
  use (-1 penalty to skill), are fragile (low
  hit points or low DR) or need frequent
  adjustments (-1 to skill per week since the
  last “tune up”).
  Minor bugs are usually detected in
  testing – if the inventor bothers to do any
  – or when the device is used “in the field.”
  A bug is detected any time the operator
  makes a skill roll by 3 or more in normal
  operation (if the device is being tested,
  roll once per week of testing). A critical
  success reveals all the bugs; otherwise a
  single bug is noticed. The inventor has a -
  3 penalty to detect bugs – he’s too close to
  the design to see minor problems! A suc-
  cessful design skill roll and a week of lab
  or shop work will fix a single bug.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  112
  Most IOU characters will only be able to work on gadgets part-time, in lab
  courses or in their free time. If the GM doesn’t want to worry about bookkeep-
  ing, assume the character can work two hours a day on a lab project, or four
  hours a day on a “free time” gadget.
  At the middle of the project, the character rolls against the skills the GM
  required for the particular gadget. A failed roll adds 50% to the time to complete
  the gadget. On a critical failure the gadget is destroyed – all work is lost and the
  development cost (below) must be paid over again. A critical success means that
  the item is finished immediately!
  No further skill rolls are required to complete the gadget, though testing of
  the final result is advised. Most gadgets built in an IOU campaign will have
  bugs and various other problems – see Gadgeteering at IOU, p. 105.
  This skill roll is modified by the complexity of the gadget – no modification
  for simple; -2 for average; -4 for complex; -8 for amazing.
  EExxppeennsseess
  Creating new gadgets is very costly. Tools, raw
  materials, unusual parts, laboratory space, etc., all cost
  money. The GM will assign two costs to an item –
  Development cost, which must be paid before any
  item can be fabricated, and Production cost, which
  must be paid for each item created.
  Development cost is a function of tech level and
  complexity of an item. The following table shows the
  Base Cost for an item at the campaign Tech Level, and
  the TL Increment, the cost for each additional Tech
  Level above the campaign.
  Gadget Development Cost Table
  Complexity
  Base Cost
  TL Increment
  Simple
  $50,000
  $100,000
  Average
  $100,000
  $250,000
  Complex
  $250,000
  $500,000
  Amazing
  $500,000
  $1,000,000
  Malfunctioning
  Gadgets
  Gadgets have a tendency to malfunc-
  tion, break when used as blunt instruments
  in combat or simply get trampled by ram-
  paging dinosaurs. When this happens,
  someone needs to fix the device.
  Characters with the appropriate operation
  skill and familiarity with the gadget (have
  used it for a least a week or two) can
  attempt to repair minor problems, such as
  those that happen when the device mal-
  functions. This requires an operation skill
  roll at a -4 penalty to simply diagnose the
  problem, or a -8 penalty to actually fix it.
  Appropriate tools must be available, or an
  additional -5 penalty should be added; this
  is not usually a problem on campus.
  For major damage, operation skill will
  not suffice – the skill used to invent the
  gadget must be used. In addition, the
  repairing character must either be the
  inventor, or have a good technical manual
  or equivalent for the gadget. (Note that
  most WUSE professors and students hate
  to document their work.) Without a tech
  manual, characters other than the inventor
  have a -4 penalty to effect repairs.
  As a general rule, major damage to
  devices above the campaign Tech Level
  can only be repaired on-campus; parts and
  appropriate test equipment simply aren’t
  available off-campus. TL7 gadgets can be
  repaired in the field, though parts may be
  costly. Most students prefer to apply their
  Scrounging skill to avoid the expense of
  new parts, though using “Midnight Auto
  Supply” runs the risk of encounters with
  the minions of Law and Order – roll a
  contest of the student’s Stealth vs. the
  cops’ Vision (usually about 12).
  
  113
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  Production cost varies from item to item. If the gadget exists in GURPS
  Space, GURPS Ultra-Tech or the GURPS Basic Set, use the cost of the item as
  a base production cost and double it for each difference in tech level, accumu-
  lating the cost!
  Example: Dr. Heinrich Von Der Maker wishes to make a Holobelt (p.
  UT85). This is a TL10 item that projects a holographic image around the wear-
  er, giving the wearer some small bonuses in combat and making him look like
  something else.
  The GM rules that this is a complex item, so the base development cost is
  $250,000. Since TL10 is 3 Tech Levels above the campaign TL7, there is an
  additional $1,500,000 (3 × TL Increment) development cost, bringing the total
  to $1,750,000.
  This item sells for $1,100 at TL10. The difference of three Tech Levels
  causes the price to double 3 times; $1,100 + $2,200 + $4,400 + $8,800 =
  $16,500 per item!
  Gadgets developed as lab projects normally do not cost the character any-
  thing – the University picks up the tab for lab equipment and materials. But it
  also owns the resulting gadget! (Normally, the student will be able to use it until
  he graduates, but then it will have to be returned, or he may find a rather large
  “lab fee” attached to his pre-graduation bill . . .)
  “Free-time” gadget developers can usually make use of University facilities,
  and often a Scrounging roll will serve to “liberate” a few parts from a campus
  stockroom – halve costs. If the University Administration finds out about the
  gadget, though, they will point out that often-overlooked clauses in the faculty
  contracts and student admission papers gives the University rights to the inven-
  tion if any campus facilities or parts were used in its development.
  Optional Rule:
  “Gizmo” Gadgets
  Many characters always seem to have
  the right piece of gear at the right time
  (“Good thing I had that inflatable mace in
  my pocket, or those jocks might have
  fogged my glasses!”). To emulate this, the
  GM may allow a gadgeteer to use a gizmo
  during his adventures. This may be any
  device the PC could have reasonably been
  carrying. It remains undefined until he
  uses it.
  Example: Swomi Tift, the physics
  major, has room in her backpack for eight
  items. She normally carries a laser pistol,
  portable computer, two smoke bombs, an
  electronics tool kit, two textbooks and a
  gizmo (an unidentified gadget). While
  scrounging some parts, the intrepid student
  is accidentally locked in the cafeteria meat
  locker to freeze or suffocate. Swomi’s
  player tells the GM that her gizmo is a vial
  of thermite paste, which burns the hinges
  off the freezer door.
  Only gadgeteers are allowed to use
  gizmos.
  Point Costs
  The number of gizmos a character can
  use per game session is determined as part
  of the cost of the Gadgeteer advantage.
  Each gizmo adds 5 points to the cost, up
  to a maximum of 3 gizmos (15 points).
  Example: A normal gadgeteer (25
  points) wishes to be able to carry two giz-
  mos per game session (10 points), for a
  total cost of 35 points. A quick gadgeteer
  (see p. 114) would pay 60 points for the
  same privilege.
  Limitations
  The gizmo must be a device that the
  gadgeteer has already developed and built.
  Obviously it must fit the space that the
  gadgeteer had available – no autogyros in
  coat pockets. Essentially, if the gadgeteer
  had built 20 different devices that would
  fit into a coat pocket, he may reach into
  the pocket and produce any of them as the
  gizmo.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  114
  GGAADDGGEETTEEEERRIINNGG DDUURRIINNGG AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  At least as important as the ability to build gadgets is the ability to modify
  and analyze equipment during the course of an adventure. The skill roll
  required to successfully figure out an item is the same as the roll that would be
  required to create it.
  To modify someone else’s gadget requires 1d hours, and two such success-
  ful skill rolls! The GM will have to use his judgment to decide what modifica-
  tions could reasonably be made in each particular case.
  QQUUIICCKK GGAADDGGEETTEEEERRIINNGG
  Some GMs will not be satisfied with the regular gadgeteering time and
  costs. Rather than spending days of work and hundreds of thousands of dollars,
  they wish to run PCs who can throw together an Interphazed Fromblitzer in less
  than an hour, using only the contents of a random glove compartment. This
  “quick” gadgeteering is best suited to a highly cinematic game, such as a Silly
  IOU campaign.
  NNeecceessssaarryy SSkkiillllss
  Skills are chosen by the GM as per normal gadgeteering, p. 111. The char-
  acter must also have the 50-point Quick Gadgeteer advantage.
  RReeqquuiirreedd MMaatteerriiaallss
  The cinematic gadgeteer is a master at cannibalizing parts and scrounging
  bits and pieces from other equipment. The GM should allow a roll versus an
  appropriate speciality to locate usable components. For example, if the only
  thing available is a wrecked ’65 Mustang, the GM might require a roll versus
  Mechanical Engineering or Mechanic to find the parts necessary for the gadget
  under construction.
  This roll should be modified as follows:
  Simple Gadget: No modifier
  Average Gadget: specialty -2
  Complex Gadget: specialty -6
  Amazing Gadget: specialty -10
  TTiimmee RReeqquuiirreedd
  A simple gadget will only take 2d minutes to assemble from the needed
  components. Average complexity calls for 1d-2 hours (a roll of 1 or 2 indicates
  a 30-minute assembly time). A complex gadget requires 1d hours to assemble,
  and an amazing gadget will take 4d hours.
  The inventor doesn’t roll against the required skills until the end of the pro-
  ject. A failed roll indicates that the PC must start over. A critical failure means
  that the parts were ruined – new ones must be found before construction can
  resume.
  EExxppeennsseess
  If the inventor can scrounge the necessary parts, costs are minimal (1d-1 ×
  $100, a roll of 1 indicates no cost). If he must buy the needed items, the cost is
  figured as normal (see p. 111), then divided by 100.
  QQuuiicckk GGaaddggeetteeeerriinngg DDuurriinngg AAddvveennttuurreess
  Figuring out someone else’s devices requires 1d minutes using these rules,
  and the device can be modified in 1d × 10 minutes (plus normal skill rolls, as per
  p. 111).
  Psionics
  Psi is fairly common at the University,
  and operates as described in the Basic Set
  and GURPS Psionics. The advanced tech-
  niques described in Chapter 2 of Psionics
  are likely to be known and taught in
  courses, as well as the basic skills. Most
  psychotronic devices of TL7 and some
  TL8 ones can be found at IOU. Most
  importantly, mind shields are common
  equipment for professors, especially near
  mid-terms and finals.
  Unlike magic, psi techniques have no
  specific home at the University. Telepathy
  and Psychic Vampirism training is mostly
  found in the College of Communication,
  while Astral Projection is primarily taught
  in the College of Zen Surrealism, and
  Electrokinesis in WUSE. The remaining
  psionic powers are the province of COUP.
  Psychotronics and bio-psi technology are
  handled at WUSE, of course.
  Superpowers
  If the campaign includes powers from
  GURPS Supers, they are handled much
  like psionics in the University structure.
  Generally, training in super powers will
  belong to the college most related to the
  origin or nature of the power.
  
  115
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  MAGIC
  The University is a normal-mana area over most of the campus.
  Technoweenies tend to attribute it to a side-effect of the campus reality stabiliz-
  ers (p. 83), while the metaphysically-inclined usually point to that odd South
  Seas statue in the sub-basement of the Anthropology building. Off-campus, the
  mana level is usually low, though for some unexplained reason, the Pyramid
  Mall is a high-mana zone, and the world contains a considerable number of nor-
  mal-mana areas, and even a few high-mana ones, like Stonehenge and Times
  Square. Since the campaign will usually involve weird places when off-campus
  adventures take place, the GM should consider making most adventures occur in
  locations that “just happen” to have normal mana. This will allow PC mages
  reasonable operating room, while keeping them from freaking the mundanes too
  much while traveling.
  Magic in an IOU campaign functions as described in the Basic Set, GURPS
  Magic and GURPS Grimoire. In addition to the standard rules and whatever
  optional rules the GM permits (improvisational magic is very much in the spirit
  of IOU, for example), IOU also offers the Weird Magic skill (below) and Pun
  Magic (see the sidebar).
  The College of Metaphysics offers courses that teach spellcasting – the
  “colleges” of magic are departments within the College. All spells in GURPS
  Magic and GURPS Grimoire are taught, though some may be restricted to
  graduate-level courses, or courses requiring “permission of the instructor” as a
  prerequisite.
  WWEEIIRRDD MMAAGGIICC
  As with science, there are shortcuts to magic – unreliable ones. The Weird
  Magic skill (p. 24) represents the ability to go far afield from tried and true sym-
  bolic magic into the realms of total illogic. (Perhaps Weird Magic is the thau-
  maturgical version of chaos theory.)
  Pun Magic 
  For the adventurous GM, we offer pun
  magic – an alternate spellcasting system.
  As the name implies, the spell is cast
  using a pun related to the desired effect.
  The caster must have Magery, and the
  spell effect should be described using
  either the regular spell lists in the Basic
  Set, GURPS Magic or GURPS Grimoire,
  or the rules for improvised spells (see p.
  M85). Pun magic has two major advan-
  tages: casting time is only as long as it
  takes to make the pun, and it draws some
  of its energy from bystanders as they
  groan at the pun.
  The player must actually make the pun.
  (Alternatively, the GM may allow pun-
  challenged players to use the punning rules
  in GURPS Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon.)
  The pun is successful if one or more of the
  other players, or the GM, groans at the pun
  or throws things at the punster. On a suc-
  cessful pun, every character in hearing
  range of the punning PC must make a Will
  roll to resist groaning at the pun. (Pun-al –
  ah, penalties to this roll should be assigned
  for particularly atrocious puns.) If the
  hearer fails the roll, he suffers one point of
  Fatigue, which goes to help power the
  spell. On a critical failure of the Will roll,
  the character contributes all his Fatigue
  and falls unconscious! People with
  Mundanity or No Sense of Humor cannot
  be tapped by pun magic.
  After all the points from listeners are
  totalled up, the caster must supply any
  additional energy required for the spell. If
  there is excess energy available, the
  spell’s effect is increased proportionately
  in some fashion, determined by the GM.
  In a roomful of people, pun magic can
  be very powerful. Fortunately, pun magic
  is self-limiting. Unless a Will roll is criti-
  cally failed, after losing three Fatigue
  points to pun magic, a character cannot be
  “tapped” for any more until all lost
  Fatigue is recovered – people burn out on
  puns rather quickly. Also, the spell effects
  and energy costs can be somewhat unpre-
  dictable – the caster needs to be quite sure
  that he’s got a bad-enough pun, or the
  spell may tap all his energy and render
  him unconscious! Furthermore, bystanders
  who hate puns may want to do something
  nasty to the punning mage.
  Pun magic enchantments are possible,
  but difficult – while up to three points of
  Fatigue can be tapped per mage (or
  observer!) per day, telling awful puns on
  the same subject for a month can get a lit-
  tle taxing. (Unlike normal enchantments,
  an unlimited number of spectators can pro-
  vide energy without skill penalty, though
  they’ve been known to throw things at the
  mages . . .) Items created with pun magic
  are usually twisted and quirky.
  Alchemical researchers have been
  looking for ways to tap pun magic in the
  manufacture of elixirs, but so far the
  results have been disappointing.
  
  BBEEYYOONNDD MMUUNNDDAANNEE
  116
  A successful Weird Magic skill roll provides a +2 bonus when
  casting a spell using improvisational magic (p. M76). Using Weird
  Magic is chancy, however – any failed roll on a weird improvised
  spell will result in some embarrassing or unpleasant result affecting
  the caster, such as being ground zero for a rain of zucchini.
  Research for new spells (p. M15) can be made easier with Weird
  Magic skill in two ways. First, a successful Weird Magic roll at the
  start of the research can eliminate the need to know prerequisites; the
  mage comes at the new spell from a totally off-the-wall angle, rather
  than building on existing knowledge. Second, a Weird Magic skill
  roll can be made for each IQ+Magery “research” roll, with a success
  giving a +5 bonus. This can make spell research a lot faster! But the
  resulting spell will be “warped” – it will always use energy, even on
  failure, and failed spell rolls will cause peculiar results which will
  never favor the caster. Even “successful” spells tend to create odd
  side effects. (Perhaps the Random Side-Effects Table on p. 108 will
  suggest possibilities.) The GM is encouraged to be creative . . .
  The Weird Magic skill can also make it easier to enchant magic
  items. Before the item is enchanted, the mage makes a Weird Magic
  skill roll. For each point by which the skill roll is made, the energy
  cost of the enchantment is reduced by 10%, to a maximum reduction
  of 90%. An exact success or a failed Weird Magic roll provides no
  benefit, but the item is enchanted using Weird Magic anyway.
  Naturally, there’s a price for taking shortcuts – the GM should use the
  Guaranteed Play-Balance Table on p. 107 to determine exactly what’s
  wrong with the item. It will also have 1d-3 quirks (minimum 1); the
  GM should roll on the Random Side-Effect Table on p. 108, or use the
  rules for magic item quirks on p. 9 of GURPS Magic Items 2.
  Use of Weird Magic skill isn’t confined to mages – the principles
  can be applied to Alchemy skill as well (see the rules for Making
  Alchemical Items, p. M98). With a successful Weird Magic roll, an
  alchemist can do one of the following:
  Get a +2 bonus to Alchemy skill rolls while making a “batch” of
  one elixir,
  Reduce the materials cost for a batch of any one elixir by 50%,
  Reduce the time to produce a batch of one elixir by 50%, or
  Make twice as many doses in a batch for the same skill penalty
  (e.g., make two doses at no penalty, four at -1 and so forth).
  As with other uses of Weird Magic, there is a cost. Elixirs made
  using Weird Magic principles always have a side-effect (use the
  Random Side-Effect Table on p. 108, or make up something appropri-
  ate). They also are less reliable in effect than normal elixirs – any time
  a dose is taken the GM should roll 1d-4 and multiply by 25%. The
  result is the modifier for the duration of effect of that dose, ranging
  from -75% to +50% of the normal time. For elixirs with no duration,
  like Cadmus or Hebe, apply the modifier to the elixir’s effect, instead.
  Hopeful Romantic who use love potions made with Weird Magic will
  probably regret it . . .
  Critical successes with Weird Magic skill give the caster the idea
  for a totally new spell (or elixir) that has nothing to do with the cur-
  rent problem (another application of the Law of Serendipity). Critical
  failures are utter – and spectacular – disasters. The tale of the
  Sorcerer’s Apprentice probably involved a critical failure of Weird
  Magic.
  
  117
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  Gillian Brent looked over the spread of Tarot cards in
  front of her. “Looks like something strange is going to hap-
  pen to you, Johnathan.”
  The millionaire student ducked what looked like a meep
  on a hang-glider. “It took Tarot cards to tell you that?” he
  asked, incredulously.
  Gillian braced herself as Pyewacket launched himself
  off her shoulder after the flying treat. “You have a point.” A
  furry turtle finally got close enough to the cards to taste
  them. The witch sighed in defeat. “Maybe palm reading
  would work better.”
  
  Though the IOU Game Master can undoubtedly think of evil plots without
  assistance, the authors feel obligated to inflict some of their bad ideas on the
  hapless reader. A number of these adventures were originally run as improvisa-
  tional games at conventions, using freshthing versions of the sample student
  characters on pp. 64-68. Because of the free-wheeling nature of the setting, most
  of these adventure ideas are merely situation setups and the GM will have to
  expand on them, providing an appropriate resolution. But first, a relatively com-
  plete short adventure, the authors’ tribute to the classic fantasy quest . . .
  OONNEE CCAARRDD TTOO RRUULLEE TTHHEE MMAALLLL
  In the Pyramid Mall one day, the PCs are run down by a gaggle of Valley
  Girls. As the characters pick themselves back up off the floor, one of them spots
  a shimmering metallic credit card lying loose on the ground. Whoever retrieves
  the card hears a soft chattering noise and sees his own name being embossed on
  the front of the card! The signature area on the back will prove to have the hold-
  er’s signature on it. On examination, the card looks like a normal credit card,
  though the name of the card is partly unreadable – the most that can be made out
  is “M????rCard.” The account number is unusually short: “2001 000 0666,” and
  the fine print on the back of the card reads “If this card is lost or stolen – tough!”
  The new owner of the card will prove most reluctant to turn the card in to
  the mall Lost and Found. After all, it has his name on it – who are they going to
  contact? (The new owner must make a Will roll to turn in the card. And when
  the PC gets home he’ll get a call from mall security, asking him to come pick up
  his card, which some kind-hearted citizen turned in.)
  Any merchant will accept the card, and it seems to have an unlimited credit
  limit. Automated bank terminals will also take it and dispense any amount of
  cash, up to the entire contents of the machine. An account balance check at an
  ATM will print only the word “JACKPOT.”
  More esoteric investigations of the card will reveal some additional infor-
  mation. Most magical or psionic examinations will only produce a faint sense of
  “bad vibes” and incredible power. Scientific investigations will show that the
  card is made of some virtually indestructible metal alloy. Being dropped into a
  supernova or a black hole might destroy it, but nothing short of that will.
  Heating the card with a blowtorch or the equivalent will cause small glowing
  red letters to appear, spelling out the following verse:
  One Card to rule them all, One Card to bribe them,
  One Card to bring to malls, with all it takes to buy them.
  Don’t leave home without it!
  Reading the magnetic stripe on the card into a computer will cause the com-
  puter display to show the same verse, including the glowing red letters – even
  on a monochrome monitor. Successful use of the spell Detect Magic or the psi
  skill of Psychometry will also reveal this text.
  The previous holder of the card was one of the mall-rat valley girls that ran
  down the characters. Gail McWhirtle (known to the “in” crowd as “Gail M” –
  “McWhirtle is, like, sooo uncool!”) is the daughter of a prominent local lawyer,
  Stanford McWhirtle, of the firm McWhirtle, Strunk & White. Poor Gail M
  doesn’t discover the loss of the card until after she, and the PCs, have left the
  mall. A frantic call to mall security produces confusion in these staunch defend-
  ers of the law and the three-hour coffee break. (They have difficulty understand-
  ing at first exactly what “the Gnarliness” is.) Eventually they report no one has
  turned in such a credit card to Lost and Found. Perhaps the young lady should
  contact the bank?
  The Ultimate Plot
  A good long-term plot to weave
  through IOU adventures is a quest to
  answer the question, “Why does IOU
  exist, and what is its purpose?”
  In a Darkly Illuminated IOU, the
  answer will certainly be sinister, and prob-
  ably related to an Illuminati plot to control
  people with weird (and useful) powers.
  A Weird IOU may have a more natural
  (and less sinister) explanation – perhaps
  Someone is collecting and training a cadre
  of people to Save the Universe.
  The Silly IOU needs no real justifica-
  tion, and if there’s any reason for its exis-
  tence beyond sheer randomness, it is like-
  ly to be totally irrational. Say, the univer-
  sity started as a retirement home for
  burned-out demigods, who needed some-
  thing to keep them busy in their declining
  centuries. If you can’t do, teach . . .
  The Egg and IOU 
  (No Pets Allowed!)
  One of the PCs’ roommates – a
  Paleontology major – is out of town on a
  dig. Unfortunately, the fossilized egg she
  brought back from her field trip to the
  Amazon last month is making funny nois-
  es. After a few hours it hatches into a
  small green slug-like creature, which is
  terminally cute . . . and very hungry!
  Fortunately, it is easy to feed – it eats any-
  thing. All the time. And grows quite fast.
  So now the PCs need to do something
  about it, especially since the dorms have a
  very firm “No Pets!” policy.
  (GMs may want to dig out their copy of
  “Awful Green Things from Outer Space”
  as a prop, or maybe a tactical map . . .)
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  118
  
  TThhee HHaabbiitt
  For each week holding the card, the holder must make a Will roll, at a
  cumulative -1 for each week after the first, or acquire an additional disadvan-
  tage. The first three failed rolls give the character successive levels of the
  Compulsive Behavior (Spendthrift) disadvantage (see p. B240). The fourth
  failed roll adds the Greed disadvantage, and the process ends. (Will rolls can
  overcome these disadvantages normally, without additional penalties.)
  The new disadvantages do not wear off if the holder gives away or loses the
  card – they will only fade away when the card is destroyed. In fact, the cardhold-
  er must make a Will roll to deliberately lose, transfer or destroy the card – at a
  penalty equal to the number of weeks of possession! If the PCs get really para-
  noid about the card’s side effects, the ArchDean should get it somehow . . . (Not
  that she’ll be affected – in fact, when in her possession, the card will read: “One
  card to rule them a. . . oops.” – but the players shouldn’t know this.) Smart PCs
  will also remember the ArchDean’s first two rules (p. 8). If no one thinks of this,
  have all the characters make a Survival (IOU) roll to remember.
  If the holder loses the card, he should make an additional Will roll at a
  penalty equal to the number of weeks he had the card. On a failed roll, the char-
  acter gains the Obsession disadvantage (p. B241) – he must get the card back!
  An Obsessed ex-cardholder can vaguely sense the current distance and direction
  to the card, which can make life difficult for the current holder . . .
  Consultations with psychics, Divination spells or Psychometry skill will
  reveal these details – after the lucky cardholder has acquired at least one disad-
  vantage (including the Obsession). THE computer can also determine the effects
  by analyzing the contract encoded in the magnetic stripe on the card. (It will
  demand substantial payment in advance, not with the card, and will require at
  least a week. Even it won’t be able to determine exactly who issued the card, or
  what the repayment terms are . . . they seem to be encrypted in a code THE
  computer can’t crack easily.)
  TThhee FFrraatteerrnniittyy ooff tthhee CCaarrdd
  Gail M, not yet wanting to bother Daddy with this eensy little problem
  about the loss of his birthday present to her, needs help. Fortunately, she’s a
  member of the sorority Beta Chi Nu, and they can demand assistance from their
  male equivalent, Delta Upsilon Delta, home to many members of the Team.
  Gail M doesn’t yet know who has the card, but has traced it to the IOU cam-
  pus. Unfortunately, there is enough stray magic, radiation and general weirdness
  around to keep her from getting an exact fix on the card’s current holder. The
  best plan the Deltas can come up with (after several hours of deep thought, plus
  the consumption of a dozen pizzas and three cases of beer) is to wander the
  campus, asking people about “The Gnarliness” in something barely detectable
  as English. Hulking over the interrogation victim usually supplies enough incen-
  tive for the intimidatee to produce an answer – any answer – to send the
  searchers on their way. By purest chance, this will often be somewhere near the
  current cardholder.
  The PCs will get plenty of opportunity to watch the “Delta DUDes” in
  action. Perhaps the DUDes will even try to interrogate a PC standing next to the
  real cardholder . . .
  If the DUDes don’t get a clue about the real holder of “The Gnarliness,” such
  as a preemptive strike by the PCs, one of them will eventually get the idea of ask-
  ing George the Janitor, who will fortuitously have been hanging around the play-
  ers’ party just when the card was being discussed. After a suitable gratuity (cash
  only, please) George will finger the lucky PC, and the DUDes will descend on the
  characters like a ton of goldbricks. The GM should arrange the ensuing mayhem
  The Spammish
  Inquisition
  Why are the FBI, the CIA, the KGB
  and the Phone Company looking for 20
  cases of emergency rations that were
  stored in IOU’s fallout shelters back in the
  1950s? It seems that people who have
  eaten the strangely-glowing synthomeat
  have acquired weird powers . . .
  A long time ago, in an atoll far away, a
  certain government tested the effects of
  nuclear weapons on various common
  items – including standard government
  emergency rations. A bureaucratic foul-up
  resulted in some of the cases being routed
  to fallout shelters, instead of being
  shipped to secret government labs for fall-
  out analysis. Forty years later, someone
  discovered the error, after the mayor of
  Podunk, Nebraska was held hostage for
  twelve hours by a horde of super-powered
  rats in the basement of City Hall.
  Will the students find the cases before
  the government agents? Will they decide
  to eat some of the food in preference to
  cafeteria fare? Will they sell the cases to
  the cafeteria as a new type of synthetic
  food that comes in designer neon colors?
  Will they be able to cope with hyper-pow-
  ered IOU tunnel rats and Supermeep?
  From Bad to WUSE
  A group of students has incurred the dis-
  pleasure of the ArchDean by excessive
  complaining about the cafeteria food
  (attempted arson at the Borgia Center is a
  bit much). So they’re assigned new jobs –
  as experimental subjects in the Department
  of Weird Science and Culinary Studies.
  Even the dorm food will look good after
  surviving on Dr. Rupo’s 21-Day
  Radioactive Rutabaga Miracle Diet . . . . (“It
  Worked for Elvis – It Will Work for You!”)
  119
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  
  so that the DUDes don’t get the card, even if that means Campus Security puts in
  an improbably-timely appearance. (At the very least, Security can provide a dis-
  traction for the DUDes to fight while the PCs slip away.)
  TThhee TTwwoo TToowweerrss
  Foiled in her first attempt to recover the card, but at least now knowing the
  opposition, Gail M calls in the big guns – Daddy. The PCs will promptly be
  buried in legal papers, deposed, subpoenaed and habeas corpused. Like any
  good lawyer, however, McWhirtle Senior won’t actually give the opposition
  anything in the way of useful information, like where the card came from.
  The characters will get to make frequent treks off-campus to the Cirith
  Tower, whose thirteenth floor is occupied by the offices of McWhirtle, Strunk
  and White. If any of the characters has Law skill, a successful roll will tell them
  that the best tactic is to play dumb about the card – McWhirtle doesn’t seem to
  have any real proof that the card belongs to his daughter. (A friendly, or suit-
  ably-bribed, COUP law student can also offer this advice.)
  All this legal action on campus (231 process-servers in one day tends to
  stand out) eventually attracts the notice of the ArchDean, who will summon the
  characters to her Tower, and grill them about Precisely What is Going On? And
  Why Are All These Lawyers on Campus? If the characters try to dump the prob-
  lem on the ArchDean, or even simply tell the truth, the ArchDean will examine
  the card, produce a disconcerting grin, and tell the students, “Three credit hours
  each if you take care of this. Now, get these Mundane lawyers off my campus!”
  TThhee RReettuurrnn ooff tthhee KKiinngg
  At this point, the PCs should have plenty of motivation to destroy the card.
  The question is, how? Various WUSE students and professors will happily
  attempt the job, but aside from the usual collateral destruction, are unable to
  accomplish much. Summoned demons will look at the card, giggle hysterically,
  refuse to help and vanish in a cloud of credit-card slips (none of which will
  prove interesting). The dean of C.T.H.U.L.H.U. has a sign on his door reading
  “Out to lunch. Back yesterday at 2:30.”
  Eventually the characters should find some vague information about similar
  cards (say, a visit to the library and a successful series of three Research rolls, or
  a consultation with – and substantial bribe to – the dean of Metaphysics). Such
  cards are sometimes given out by very powerful demons, who enjoy watching
  the ensuing chaos (and running betting pools on how long an individual will
  hang onto the card). The contracts are iron-clad, and can’t even be revoked by
  the demon. Only the destruction of the card will break the contract (and remove
  the imposed disadvantages). Destroying the card usually frees the holder of any
  obligation to repay. A typical repayment rate is one soul per $1,000 charged to
  the card, with a 10% per month interest rate. (Unless the PCs come up with
  Drafted into
  Security!
  Due to a recent upsurge in general
  intelligence, a lower unemployment rate or
  maybe just a higher-than-usual attrition
  rate, the University personnel department
  has had trouble recruiting warm bodies to
  fill Campus Security positions. WUSE has
  tried to supply security robots to fill in the
  gaps, but (1) the robots aren’t terribly
  effective, since they tend to run away from
  situations where Campus Security would
  rush in, and (2) the robots are expensive
  and tend to require excessive repairs after
  a typical night’s patrol on campus.
  In order to placate the ArchDean after
  this costly debacle, WUSE has manufac-
  tured computer records showing that some
  students have “volunteered” to work part-
  time as Campus Security, and the PCs just
  happen to be among the lucky winners . . .
  Recruiting Drive
  It’s spring – time for all good high
  school seniors to be thinking about the col-
  lege of their choice. In order to forestall
  that sort of nonsense, the ArchDean has
  decreed a bounty of one credit hour for
  every acceptable (read: wealthy) senior
  recruited to the University. This is a chance
  for the PCs to get out there and practice
  their Fast-Talk, Intimidation, Sex Appeal
  and maybe even Lasso skills. Of course, all
  the other students at IOU are trying to cap-
  ture live ones, too. And there may not be
  enough to go around. (The GM should be
  thinking about California during the Gold
  Rush, here . . . claim-jumping, backstab-
  bing and double-dealing are the order of
  the day – if the PCs don’t think of it first.)
  To make things more interesting, each
  School wants to get more new freshthings,
  at the expense of other Schools. So each
  student will get a “secret” briefing from
  his own School’s dean. And each depart-
  ment will want to recruit for its own bene-
  fit, so there’s another complication. And
  Student Housing Services would like stu-
  dents to live on-campus. Et cetera.
  Don’t forget that other universities are
  out recruiting, too. And some of them are,
  well, a trifle unethical. Who’d have
  believed it?
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  120
  
  some entertaining way to divide a soul into fractions, the principal and interest
  is rounded up to whole souls per month!)
  Unfortunately, destroying the card will require great energy – your basic
  nuclear explosion simply won’t cut it. (It used to be possible to destroy similar
  items by tossing them into a really big volcano, but people caught on. The last
  user to get away with this was Samuel Clemens, and the result was the explo-
  sion of Krakatoa, though for some reason Mark Twain never reported this expe-
  dition.) The GM should allow PCs with Astronomy or Physics skills a roll to
  realize that there are some astronomical phenomena that might work. The Big
  Bang is rather a long way to go (not to mention full of time-traveling tourists),
  but either a supernova or a stellar-mass black hole would probably suffice. The
  difficulty is, there are no handy starships on campus at the moment, and the
  ArchDean would object – vigorously – to turning the Sun into a supernova, or
  manufacturing a stellar-mass black hole on campus.
  So now the characters need a starship. They may try to build one (which is
  most likely to fail in some entertainingly spectacular way, such as imitating an
  inflatable rubber duck deflating into a point-mass). Or they could try to summon
  one. Or the GM can simply drop a handy alien starship in the party’s collective
  lap. (This coincidence should make the players paranoid. With good reason . . .)
  Just as things look darkest (about 12:47 A.M. one moonless night), a
  scruffy-looking alien vessel lands in the parking lot outside the PCs’
  dorm/apartment/igloo/whatever. Something resembling an 8-foot tall stalk of
  broccoli (complete with hundreds of buggy eyes) emerges carrying a clipboard
  and accosts one of the PCs. After a little bit of language trouble, the bug-eyed
  vegetable inquires whether this is “Noshville,” and if so, would the kind person
  please sign for this delivery? (Sensible PCs will say no and wreck this amaz-
  ingly clever plot device, but most GMs don’t have to worry about characters
  being sensible, do they?) Most likely, the party will try to hijack the ship, or cut
  a deal with the broccoli. Hijacking will be difficult, since the ship controls are
  designed for something that grows a root system made of optical fibers, though
  one never knows what the mad scientist types might be able to manage . . .
  The alien is perfectly happy to cut a deal to swing by the black hole known
  as Cygnus X-1 (yt was planning to dump the garbage there anyway). But yt
  absolutely insists that the PCs must take delivery of this package when they get
  back to Earth (or IOU, whichever comes first). The trip to the black hole is
  uneventful, the card gets dumped with the rest of the garbage, producing enough
  pyrotechnics to satisfy George Lucas, and the alien quickly returns the crew to
  campus, along with a frost-covered object that looks a lot like a 1950’s refriger-
  ator, except that it has a transparent front (mostly iced over). Dimly visible
  inside is something . . . humanoid. In what looks like a white satin suit covered
  with rhinestones. It appears to be holding a guitar. On the outside of the refriger-
  ator is a shipping label written in some arcane Earth tongue that one of the PCs
  happens to be able to read (Sanskrit, Pig Latin or Val-speak are all possibilities).
  The label reads, “Return to Sender, Address Unknown.”
  (At this point, sadistic GMs may have Elvis recover from cryonic suspen-
  sion and regale the PCs with a stirring rendition of “All Shook Up.” Or some-
  thing. This is an ideal opportunity to inflict your Elvis impersonation on a cap-
  tive audience.)
  The former card owner slowly returns to whatever passes for normal within
  a week of the card’s destruction. The GM should drop occasional hints that
  someone might turn up to demand repayment of the account – small giggling
  demons popping into the dorm room at midnight, or flocks of crows following
  them around, that sort of thing. But the other shoe never drops . . .
  Sneak Preview
  Some of the PCs are students in Dr.
  Mindbender’s course, Advanced Cheating
  447, and finals time is drawing near. It is
  well-known to COUP students that the final
  exam consists entirely of totally obscure
  trivia – only a full eidetic who’d memorized
  the entire contents of the University Library
  would have a chance at a passing grade. Or
  the students can cheat . . .
  All the PCs need to do is sneak into
  Dr. Mindbender’s home and somehow
  steal a copy of the test or the answer key,
  or maybe substitute their own version of
  the test. Just to make things interesting,
  Dr. Mindbender also teaches Advanced
  Deathtraps 416, and frequently field-tests
  his research at home.
  Truly creative solutions to this prob-
  lem will get an A from Dr. Mindbender.
  Getting caught in a deathtrap is good for a
  failing grade (unless the student cheats by
  altering the computer grade records).
  Taking the test “straight” will get the stu-
  dent drummed out of COUP entirely, for
  terminal cluelessness.
  Old MacDonald Had
  a Byte – AI IOU
  Dr. MacDonald’s newest invention, an
  artificial intelligence in a shapechanging
  robot, has wandered off. He’s given his
  Computer Mythology class three days to
  find “Toby” and return it – that’s when
  he’s set the auction to sell it to the highest
  corporate bidder. Unfortunately, the robot
  likes life (so to speak) on the IOU campus
  and doesn’t want to leave, so it’s in hiding.
  It can mimic anything roughly human-
  sized up to the size of a refrigerator (or
  Coke machine). Can the students find the
  reluctant machine before Friday? If so, will
  they stage their own auction, or help the
  machine hide out? Will the corporate spies
  on campus try to find and steal “Toby,” and
  will our intrepid heroes try to save it from a
  life as a soft-drink salesthing?
  The Martian
  Morons
  The Syrtis U. moopsball team – the
  Suckers – is visiting campus, and the stu-
  dents are assigned as local guides. While
  well supplied with body mass, tentacles
  and an insatiable appetite for anything
  remotely organic, the average Sucker isn’t
  well-equipped in the brain department,
  being slightly smarter than the average
  houseplant. (Mundane houseplant, that is
  – a lot of the vegetation on campus is
  quite erudite, and many plants make a bit
  of fertilizer on the side selling information
  via the grapevine.)
  Continued on next page . . .
  121
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  
  OFF-CAMPUS ADVENTURES
  (FIELD TRIPS AND VACATIONS)
  University life offers many opportunities to get off campus and see the
  Universe. The wise GM will use these to harass everyone with Mundanes, let the
  PCs rampage throughout time and space or maybe just party in ancient Rome.
  YYAA CCAAIINN’’TT GGEETT HHEEAAHH FFRROOMM TTHHEEAAHH!!
  On summer vacation in coastal Maine, the students get lost and take an
  unmarked side road not on their map. The road leads into the quaint fishing vil-
  lage of Wye, Maine, and continues on to the north – to Wye, Maine. In fact, all
  attempts to leave the town result in a quick return to town. Fortunately, the
  natives are friendly, and the village has all the amenities: Moffit’s General
  Store/U.S. Post Office/Town Hall/Wye Library and Museum, Fred’s Garage
  (“We Fix Foreign Makes”), Vlad’s Lumberyard, Norma’s Bed and Breakfast,
  the Congregational Church and the Wye Diner.
  At first glance, the place is a typical Maine hamlet of perhaps 200 souls, but
  closer observation will turn up a number of odd facts. Fred’s Garage has some
  odd-looking parts in the junkyard out back – some of them glow, while others
  seem to warp out of sight into other dimensions. Mages will note that the mana
  level is normal, rather than the low mana found most places off-campus. There
  is also some kind of permanent spell on the entire village, though the precise
  nature of the spell is unclear. One of the local farms (the mailbox reads “George
  Draco”) has a barn with a smoking chimney, and a number of charred spots out
  in the cow pasture, along with some burnt-looking skeletons. If there are any
  virgins in the party, they might catch glimpses of unicorns in the woods. (Or
  griffins. Or lions, tigers and bears, oh my!) The Zip code on the Post Office is
  “00000.” Wolves – or something – howl in the woods at night. Strange lights are
  seen after dark in the sky over town. All the lobstermen (the fishing boats; peo-
  ple who fish for lobsters are “lobster fisherman,” and are quite insistent on cor-
  rect usage) are floating in the small harbor, and not out pulling lobster pots,
  which is very unusual in the summer. The church has a large pentagram inset
  before the altar.
  At this point, inquisitive characters will be trying to find out more about the
  town, while sensible ones (at IOU?) will be trying to leave. Unsuccessfully, in
  the latter case. No matter how clever the PCs are, nothing will get them out of
  town, including teleportation and other weird powers or technology. Space sim-
  ply seems to be folded back on itself, or some such pseudo-scientific persiflage.
  Strangely, the village inhabitants seem to come and go – someone brings the
  mail, fills the gas tanks at Fred’s Garage and delivers fresh food to Moffit’s
  General Store/etc. Phoning to someone “outside” will work fine (though the
  labels on the phones have only four digits, and lack even an area code), but no
  amount of research will determine where Wye, ME is, or how to get to it. If the
  characters attempt to hitch a ride with one of the villagers, the villager will get a
  couple miles out of town and suddenly remember that today is the town festival,
  realize they don’t have any gas or get a flat tire.
  Talking to the locals will be somewhat more productive, though confusing.
  Mostly the PCs will be told that Wye is a quiet little town, that people mind their
  own business, and that hardly anyone outside ever comes here, except to settle
  down. Current town gossip seems to revolve around the lobster fishing (“ain’t
  been this bad since 1834”) and someone named Larry, who apparently is hang-
  ing around the harbor.
  The Martian
  Morons (continued)
  If trying to stop the Suckers from eat-
  ing students, pets and cafeteria food
  weren’t trouble enough, the ArchDean has
  let it be known that there must not be the
  slightest appearance of foul play in the
  upcoming Divisional Moopsball Finals.
  With special emphasis on the word
  “appearance.” Unfortunately, the IOU
  Team isn’t much smarter than their rivals,
  so avoiding an interplanetary incident
  while simultaneously escaping a trampling
  by 137 angry Team-members may call for
  some very fast talking, or at least fast feet.
  Terminal Exam
  In a rare example of inter-school collab-
  oration,WUSE has provided an experimen-
  tal device to SPCA, for use in final exams
  in Advanced Hysteria. The “Metamorphic
  DNA Transmogrifier Ray” (or “MDTR”)
  turns ordinary – or otherwise – students
  into innocuous laboratory animals for 24
  hours. As it happens, WUSE currently has
  a shortage of lab animals, and the
  Department of Hysteria needed something
  to provide suitable adrenalin levels in stu-
  dents for finals.
  When the PCs report to class for their
  final exam (set for midnight), they find
  themselves facing a cannon-like object
  sporting fins, knobs, the obligatory
  Jacobs’ Ladder and sporty racing stripes
  on the side. The professor walks into class
  at 11:55 P.M., distributes envelopes
  marked “Open at precisely midnight,” and
  walks out, locking the only door behind
  him with a loud “thunk.”
  As the witching hour approaches, the
  cannon starts warming up, emitting the
  usual increasing hum, sparks and flashing
  lights. At precisely the stroke of midnight,
  the cannon fires, transforming all the stu-
  dents into white lab rats, rabbits or guinea
  pigs – GM’s choice. (If the students didn’t
  cheat by opening their envelopes before
  midnight, they don’t belong at IOU. Inside
  is a slip of paper reading “Advanced
  Hysteria 397 Final Exam: Survive the next
  24 hours. Disabling or destroying the
  MDTR will result in an automatic flunk of
  the class.”)
  Continued on next page . . . 
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  122
  
  Ultimately, use of divination techniques, weird science and magic and con-
  versations with the locals should reveal the following facts:
  The Village That Wasn’t There: the village is protected by a permanent spell
  cast by an Indian medicine man around 1630. The spell was intended to keep
  white settlers out of the area, but it was either a critical failure or a spectacular
  success, depending on one’s viewpoint. The spell keeps people who don’t
  belong in the area out, and makes them forget that it even exists. (This is very
  handy at tax time . . .) It also draws those who do belong in the village there,
  causing the entire area to be a Weirdness Magnet, much like IOU itself. A third
  aspect of the spell is an extremely powerful protection spell which actively
  works to keep the area and its inhabitants safe. (Some villagers claim that the
  spirit of the Indian medicine man, Wampafido, is bound up in the spell. His
  medicine bag is in the museum, and may prove useful in finding out this infor-
  mation.)
  Why Johnny Can’t Leave: It is Wampafido’s protection spell (or his spirit)
  that keeps the visitors from blowing town. Apparently, they are somehow neces-
  sary to the working of the spell. This information may come through divination,
  conversing with Wampafido’s ghost or by consulting one of the village witches
  (Granny “Glitza the Good” Smith comes highly recommended). The PCs need
  to determine what problem caused the spell to draw them in, and solve it. At
  that point, the spell will probably let them go.
  Close Encounters of the Lobster Kind: About the only obvious problem in
  town, besides minor health complaints like Vlad’s sunburn and Granny Smith’s
  bad knee, a lack of Twinkies in Moffit’s General Store and a werewolf with a
  case of unrequited love for a unicorn, is the marked lack of lobsters in the area.
  Talking with the locals (the three old men sitting on the front steps of the
  General Store are a good, if garrulous, source of information) reveals that
  “Larry” is the giant lobster living in the harbor. He’s still around, and perhaps he
  knows something . . .
  If the characters can’t come up with a way to talk to Larry, one of the village
  witches can provide a potion that will let one of the PCs talk with animals,
  including the 50’ giant crustacean.
  Lobster Extraterrestrial: Larry will sob about her children, who have been
  stolen away by aliens. (GM roleplaying note: lots of pathos here!) UFOs have
  been hovering over the Maine coast at night, and sucking up all the lobsters in a
  tractor beam (or something – Larry’s understanding of high technology seems to
  be drawn from Star Trek reruns). So far, the aliens’ beam hasn’t picked up Larry
  herself, but she feels it getting stronger every night.
  At this point the PCs should be sufficiently motivated to do something about
  the lobsternappers. They’ll need to find a way to deal with the aliens and make
  them release all the lobsters. This will be made difficult by the fact that the
  Beerigreezi (the aliens) are trying to corner the lobster market in this sector.
  They’re rude, greedy and unsympathetic, and they’re making the biggest profit
  of their lives. Fortunately, they’re not well-armed, and they’re not very bright,
  either. A clever plan by the PCs might talk them into giving up their cargo (trad-
  ing them the Brooklyn Bridge for the lobsters might work), or perhaps the
  Beerigreezi mothership can be disabled by exotic powers or weird tech (Fred’s
  Garage might help). In the latter case, the GM can try to outdo George Lucas in
  spectacular starship crashes. After all, even Lucas never thought of having a tor-
  rential downpour of lobsters from the sky! Watch the skies . . .
  Terminal Exam 
  (continued)
  The transformed students retain their
  IQ, skills and any special abilities they
  might have, but they cannot talk (includ-
  ing to each other, except for squeaking),
  and all their other attributes are typical for
  their new forms. Carried equipment – and
  clothing – does not get transformed. Most
  skills involving physical actions will be
  difficult or impossible; the GM should
  assess penalties of at least -4 to any skill
  requiring hands, and should feel free to
  use higher modifiers or forbid use of skills
  entirely. Transformed mages can cast
  spells, but at a -4 penalty. (Use the charac-
  ter’s original ST attribute, not the trans-
  formed one, for use in powering spells.)
  The PCs now must survive encounters
  with WUSE students hunting experiment-
  fodder, rabbit-hating Sahudese gardeners,
  birds, 
  discarded 
  cafeteria 
  food
  (“Lunchtime!”), foraging tunnel rats and
  the ArchDean’s cats. (The GM may find
  GURPS Bunnies and Burrows useful in
  creating problems for small animals.) At
  precisely midnight the next day, Presto!
  Nothing happens. In typical WUSE fash-
  ion, the MDTR doesn’t work quite as
  advertised – the students don’t regain their
  normal forms until 8:57 A.M. the next
  day, giving them just three minutes to get
  to their next final. Sans books, equipment
  and clothes . . .
  Students developing suitable levels of
  panic during the test should pass the
  course. Anyone who figures out a clever
  way to turn themselves back to normal
  flunks. So it goes.
  Lights! Camera!
  Illuminati!
  Somehow, the PC group wins a free
  trip to Hollywood, and a visit to the set
  where Steven von Spellberg’s latest sci-
  ence-fiction movie (and special-effects
  extravaganza) is being filmed. While
  there, the visitors witness some strange
  accidents – prop blasters blow holes
  through the set, model starships start fly-
  ing around and coffee machines start pro-
  ducing something other than acidic black
  sludge. Gee, maybe something out of the
  ordinary is going on.
  The GM will need to motivate the PCs
  to investigate the problem. Perhaps they’ve
  invested money in the movie, or maybe
  von Spellberg is distantly related to one of
  them. After considerable investigation, the
  group will find out that the studio is built
  on top of an old Indian burial ground, and
  some of the spirits have awakened and are
  trying to be helpful – they’ve been making
  things work the way the people have want-
  ed them to, haven’t they? Either the genius-
  es from IOU will have to convince them to
  stop “helping,” or sign them up as part of
  the special effects crew.
  123
  AADDVVEENNTTUURREESS
  
  Campus Glossary
  Terms that are in use on the IOU campus.
  AI: Artificial Intelligence, a self-aware computer-based
  entity. THE computer (p. 62) is one, and currently, the only one
  on Earth.
  B.A.: Bachelor of Arts. The first degree for non-science
  majors, taking four years (or more) to acquire.
  B.S.: Bachelor of Science. The more common “generic”
  term for the first degree. Also stands for something to do with
  male bovines.
  Chair: may refer to a department head (i.e., chairthing) or a
  “titled chair” – a high-status professorial position in a depart-
  ment, usually named after a famed alumnus, or at least someone
  the University would like to be associated with.
  CYA: Cover Your . . . Assets, to prevent folding, spindling
  and mutilation by higher-ups in an organization. Usually used in
  bureacratic or military contexts when seeking to avoid retribu-
  tion for something.
  E-mail: electronic mail, sent over computer networks.
  Flamewar: a heated argument on a public computer mes-
  saging system.
  Fnord: you’re not cleared for that. See also Fnord.
  Ilumni: a contraction of “Illuminati University alumni.”
  Not to be confused with Illuminati.
  IOU: Illuminati University. You’re not cleared to know
  what the “O” stands for.
  M.A.: Master of Arts. 
  MBA: Master of Business Administration. The goal of
  most ambitious mundanes.
  M.S.: Master of Science. The second degree. Also expand-
  ed to “More of the Same.”
  Net: (often “the Net”), the global computer network allow-
  ing the exchange of electronic mail, files and other forms of
  subversive information.
  Ph.D.: Doctor of Philosophy. The third degree. Also stands
  for “Piled Higher and Deeper.”
  VR: Virtual Reality – computer-synthesized experiences.
  U.S. Government Alphabet Soup
  These are government agencies of particular relevance to
  IOU. Besides pursuing their jobs, they may also appear on cam-
  pus to recruit graduating students.
  ARPA: the Advanced Research Projects Agency of the
  Department of Defense. It tends to fund small, way-out research
  projects with vast potential – if only they work out, which they
  often don’t. Biggest success to date is the (unintentional) cre-
  ation of the Net.
  BATF: Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms, respon-
  sible for collecting taxes on the first two, and suppressing the
  third. It likes to make sure it’s the only ones with megadeath
  weaponry, and it’s happy to use its own toys to ensure this.
  CIA: Central Intelligence Agency, the major covert opera-
  tions arm of the U.S. government. It never operates inside the
  country. Riiiiiight . . .
  DEA: Drug Enforcement Agency, the mortal enemy of the
  Department of Recreational Biochemistry.
  DOE: Department of Energy, the agency that oversees oil,
  gas and electricity production, as well as supervising nuclear
  reactors and doing fun research into nuclear weapons. It often
  funds research projects into energy production.
  EPA: Environmental Protection Agency. These are the
  people who get annoyed when you throw your toxic waste (or
  dirty laundry) into the river.
  FBI: Federal Bureau of Investigation. Most likely to show
  up on campus looking for foreign spies or security violations,
  though it investigates any federal crimes.
  FDA: Food and Drug Administration. It protects people
  from dangerous foods and dubious medications. The FDA never
  investigates the food served at Borgia Center, unfortunately.
  IRS: Internal Revenue Service, a.k.a. Infernal Revenue
  Service, a.k.a. It Really Steals – #1 on everyone’s hit list. See p.
  88 for IRS Agents.
  OSHA: Occupational Safety and Health Administration; the
  nosy guardian of workers everywhere. Potential spoilsports any-
  where there’s weird and possibly harmful stuff around.
  NASA: National Aeronautics and Space Administration,
  the agency that does research in space-travel and airplane
  design. Also known for funding giant projects that keep aero-
  space engineers employed and generate vast amounts of bureau-
  cratic paper-shuffling.
  NSA: No Such Agency, a.k.a. the National Security
  Agency, a wholly-owned subsidiary of IOU, Incorporated. No
  (visible) relation to NASA, though one wonders about Orbital
  Mind Control Lasers . . .
  NSF: National Science Foundation. It funds fundamental
  scientific research, primarily at universities.
  SEC: Securities and Exchange Commission, a group that
  regulates public corporations and the stock and bond markets.
  Generally a bunch of spoilsports when you have a really clever
  money-making scheme.
  USSS: the United States Secret Service, primarily responsi-
  ble for protecting the President; it’d like to branch out into the
  FBI’s turf. It also investigates counterfeit money.
  GGLLOOSSSSAARRYY
  124
  
  Any publication from a local university is a good source of
  information for IOU campaigns. Especially useful are course
  catalogs and student handbooks. These can often be obtained for
  free, and can also often be found in libraries and local high
  school guidance departments.
  GAMES
  Besides any number of relevant GURPS books (GURPS
  Illuminati comes immediately to mind, but GURPS Callahan’s
  Crosstime Saloon deserves mention as well, as another locus of
  modern weirdness), there are other games that can provide use-
  ful material for an Illuminati University campaign.
  The Call of Cthulhu, from the Chaosium. The Elder Gods
  come to roleplaying. Since IOU is pretty crazy already, a little
  insanity won’t hurt. Cthulhu material fits well into a Weird or
  Darkly Illuminated IOU campaign, though a “Silly IOU meets
  Lovecraft” setup could also be amusing.
  Ghostbusters, from West End Games. Weird science role-
  playing based on the hit movies.
  Over the Edge and On the Edge, from Atlas Games. A
  roleplaying game and a trading card game set on a
  Mediterranean island filled with conspiracies and weirdness.
  Pandemonium! Adventures in a Tabloid World, from M.
  I. B. Productions. Roleplaying through tabloid-colored glasses.
  Paranoia, by West End Games. Silly roleplaying in a dark
  future. Some of the R&D toys would fit in at WUSE, and
  Troubleshooters resemble Campus Security. One supplement
  was a package of forms that could be useful in an IOU game.
  Teenagers from Outer Space, from R. Talsorian Games.
  One of the original inspirations for IOU, this is a good, silly
  beer and pretzels roleplaying game. The basic premise is “alien
  kids go to high school on Earth” – talk about busing!
  Toon, from Steve Jackson Games. Perfect adjunct for the
  Silly IOU, especially if the GM wants cartoon characters on
  campus. The Toon Ace Catalog may provide sadistic GMs with
  inspiration for WUSE gadgets and alien artifacts.
  BOOKS
  You should also check out the tabloids in the checkout line at
  the supermarket. Some of them have truly inspiring plot material,
  if they don’t specialize in celebrity gossip. (The Weekly World
  News and the Sun are usually entertaining.)
  Adams, Douglas. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and
  sequels. The High Weirdness and general silliness is a good
  model for the Silly IOU.
  Anderson, Poul. Operation Chaos. A set of novellas about a
  werewolf and a witch in an alternate timeline, including one
  story set in a university that is not unlike IOU.
  Asprin, Robert. Another Fine Myth and sequels. While it
  doesn’t touch on university life, there are many interesting
  worlds which would fit into an IOU campaign as adventure
  locations or character origins. And the Bazaar on Deva is clearly
  some sort of Illuminati plot.
  Bischoff, David, Brown, Rich, and Richardson, Linda. A
  Personal Demon. What comes of knowing just a little too much,
  and having one too many at a faculty party. Highly entertaining
  stories of a not terribly terrible demon and her master, a profes-
  sor. Unfortunately not in print much.
  Cook, Rick. Mall Purchase Night. Weird goings-on at a
  California mega-mall. Includes some nice eccentric characters,
  and plenty of random special effects.
  Drummond, Dr. Philo U. and Stang, Rev. Ivan. The Book of
  the SubGenius. The bible of the Church of the SubGenius; full
  of Slack, secret wisdom, and other randomness.
  Freisner, Esther and Greenberg, Martin (editors). Alien
  Pregnant by Elvis! An anthology of science fiction stories trying
  to out-weird the tabloids.
  Friesner, Esther. Gnome Man’s Land and its sequels, Harpy
  High and Unicorn U. The series follows a young man with an
  advanced case of Weirdness Magnet, who tries to “mainstream”
  an assortment of mythological creatures back into mundane
  society.
  Friesner, Esther. Here Be Demons. Students on a summer
  archeology dig are tempted by a bunch of demonic failures out
  to score a few souls at last. The sequels, Demon Blues and
  Hooray for Hellywood, follow the college career and other
  adventures of the son of two of the characters in the original
  novel. The first two books are in the “must read” category.
  Harrison, Harry. Star Smashers of the Galaxy Rangers.
  Gadgeteering college students invent a cheese-based stardrive,
  then rampage through a cinematic sendup of Doc Smith novels.
  Leiber, Fritz. Conjure Wife. One of the classics of the genre
  – mystical doings in a university setting.
  Norman, John. Captive of Gor and any of the other Gor
  books – they’re all pretty interchangeable. Just begging to be
  parodied; it would make a good place for graduating female
  WUSE, COUP and Metaphysics students to have a graduation
  party – no one would miss it . . .
  Nye, Jody Lynn. Mythology 101 and sequels. A student dis-
  covers a band of leprechauns living in the underbasement of the
  campus library. The whole series suffers somewhat from sim-
  plistic plotting and characterization, but is entertaining anyway,
  especially the first book.
  Pratchett, Terry. The Colour of Magic, and all sequels,
  especially the sections on the Unseen University (an appropriate
  atmosphere for the College of Metaphysics, Silly version).
  Furthermore, Pratchett’s characters are useful role models for
  IOU characters and NPCs. Granny Weatherwax, first appearing
  in Equal Rites, makes an excellent prototype of a Metaphysics
  professor, and would also make a great Dean.
  Pratchett, Terry and Gaiman, Neil. Good Omens. While not
  relating to academia, the atmosphere is very well suited to Silly
  and Weird IOUs. One major character is the Antichrist – a 12-
  year-old boy who isn’t at all interested in destroying the world.
  Steinber. If At All Possible, Involve A Cow. Somewhat
  obscure non-fiction, suggested by a respected Ilumnus. A schol-
  arly history of collegiate practical jokes, including MIT’s Rose
  Bowl escapades and Caltech’s Ditch Day.
  125
  BBIIBBLLIIOOGGRRAAPPHHYY
  
  Younger, Malaclypse the. Principia Discordia (or How I
  Found Goddess, and What I Did to Her When I Found Her).
  The bible of Discordianism, the unauthorized official religion of
  the Illuminati. Very illuminated, naturally, and highly useful, if
  you can understand it. Hail Eris! This book is in the public
  domain; one edition is published by Steve Jackson Games.
  There are a number of different versions extant.
  Zelazny, Roger. Doorways in the Sand. The quintessential
  Weird university story, this wonderful book revolves around a
  perpetual student who gets mixed up with a cast of marvelously
  strange characters, weird alien tech and convoluted plots.
  Zelazny, Roger. A Night in the Lonesome October. While
  set in Victorian England, and not involving any educational
  institutions whatsoever, this odd tale is a perfect example of the
  sort of weird adventure that fits into the Weird or Darkly
  Illuminated IOU campaign.
  COMICS
  Oh My Goddess!. Kosuke Fujishima, Dark Horse Comics.
  College student gets live-in goddess (and her sisters). Look for
  it on video.
  Ninja High School. Ben Dunn, Antarctic Press. Aliens, out-
  rageous martial arts, and weird science, in a high school setting.
  Ranma 1⁄2. Rumiko Takahashi, Viz Comics. Ancient Chinese
  shape- (and sex-) changing curses, weird martial arts, and off-
  the-wall characters.
  MOVIES
  Besides the winners below, any 1950s B-grade SF epic,
  e.g., Plan Nine from Outer Space, is suitable IOU-fodder.
  The Absent-Minded Professor (1961). Disney’s version of a
  mad scientist invents some hyperkinetic goop, builds a flying
  car and deals with political skulduggery in his university. ∆∆∆
  The Addams Family (1991) and Addams Family Values
  (1993). Probably IOU Ilumni. Great characters and atmosphere,
  though not related to academic life. ∆∆∆∆
  The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th
  Dimension (1984). Great “mad scientist” movie; Buckaroo
  Banzai (and his Hong Kong Cavaliers) are interesting takes on
  scientists as celebrities. Lots of damage, and the Lectroid aliens
  are amusing. ∆∆∆∆
  Animal House (1978). The most famous “Stupid Frat Trick”
  movie for the brain-disadvantaged; very dated now, and
  Revenge of the Nerds does it much better anyway. 1⁄2∆
  Back to the Future (1985) and sequels. Probably the best
  time-travel movies ever made, with fine examples of a mad sci-
  entist and Weird Science. ∆∆∆∆
  Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992). Valley Girl turns vampire
  hunter. Good (bad?) example of Vals, but not nearly enough
  collateral damage. 1⁄2∆
  Ghostbusters (1984). Weird science and weird metaphysics.
  What more could one ask for? ∆∆∆
  How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (1967).
  A musical view of the business world, IOU-style. Also demon-
  strates the value of alumni connections in business. ∆∆∆
  My Science Project (1985). Aspiring proto-WUSE students
  wreak havoc on a high school with a space- and time-warping
  alien gizmo. Contains excellent examples of the effects of the
  Enigmatic Alien Device Button-Pushing Table, and why
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U. dislikes WUSE-style time-travel. ∆∆
  Real Genius (1985). Might be an average day at WUSE.
  Terrific characters, lots of neat weird tech, and an adequate
  number of explosions. ∆∆∆∆
  Revenge of the Nerds (1984). Nerds vs. Jocks, with the
  inevitable results. Rates very low on the Richter scale for
  destruction, but entertaining nonetheless. There are two sequels,
  which are mostly missable. ∆∆1⁄2
  Weird Science (1986). High school nerds create a genie out
  of a computer program. Promising start, but never really fulfills
  that promise. Adequate destruction. You gotta love the title, at
  least . . . ∆
  Zapped! (1982). Lab accident gives a young genius telekinet-
  ic powers. Predictable, but has some cute side plots. The parents
  are a good example of Mundane Background and Mundanity;
  there’s also an IOU-style lab mouse. ∆
  TELEVISION
  Bewitched. The classic sitcom about a mixed marriage
  between a mundane and a witch.
  I Dream of Jeannie. Another classic sitcom; astronaut gets
  a live-in female genie.
  Parker Lewis Can’t Lose. Very strange high school weird-
  ness.
  Misfits of Science. A comedy/adventure series about a
  bunch of people with weird powers who drive around in an ice-
  cream truck and get involved in paranormal doings.
  Monty Python’s Flying Circus. Any episode dealing with
  bureaucracy is relevant.
  The X-Files. Weird happenings that would fit right in with
  any of the IOU campaign styles, though PC reactions will be
  very different!
  MUSIC
  The Wurst of P.D.Q. Bach (Vanguard, 1971), and other
  PDQ Bach records. Professor Peter Schickele’s musical discov-
  eries of the least-talented of J. S. Bach’s offspring. Highly rec-
  ommended highbrow musical weirdness. Good background
  music for IOU games.
  They Might Be Giants (Bar/None, 1986), Flood, Lincoln
  (Bar/None, 1988), Miscellaneous t (Bar/None, 1991), Apollo 18
  (Elektra, 1992),  John Henry (Elektra, 1994), and other records
  by They Might Be Giants. Definitely music for WUSE majors,
  this group (which recently changed from a duo to a full-fledged
  band) has done songs about mammalian evolution (“Mammal”)
  and James Ensor (“Meet James Ensor”), and everything in
  between. Highly recommended.
  An Evening Wasted with Tom Lehrer (Reprise, 1959), Tom
  Lehrer Revisited (Reprise, 1959), That Was the Year That Was
  (Reprise, 1965). Don’t let the dates on these recordings put you
  off. Tom Leherer penned many of the best satirical songs ever
  written, many of which had to do with the perils of academe.
  Some of his best-known songs are “Poisoning Pigeons in the
  Park,” and “The Masochism Tango.” Highly recommended.
  BBIIBBLLIIOOGGRRAAPPHHYY
  126
  
  Academic Status advantage, 18.
  Acronyms, 7, 26.
  Administration, 47; axioms, 47.
  Administrators, 13.
  Admissions, 7.
  Advantages, 15; new, 18.
  Adventure seeds, 118-123.
  Alchemy Department. 40
  Alien Tech, 109.
  Ally advantage, 15; unwilling, 15.
  Ally Group advantage, 15.
  Ancient History Department, 35.
  Anti-matter, 82
  ArchDean, 9, 56, 77, 79.
  Area Knowledge (IOU) skill, 17.
  Avant Gardens, 72.
  Avant Guardsman, 72.
  Bare Skin Rug, 85.
  Bimbiras, 87.
  Bio-Ogre, 87.
  Black Suit, 86.
  Board of Trustees, 47.
  Borgia Center, 76.
  Botany building, 74.
  Braindumping, 82; machines, 82.
  Cafeteria, see Borgia Center.
  Campaign styles, 94; Silly, 95; Weird, 96;
  Darkly Illuminated, 97.
  Campus bookstore, 74.
  Campus (In-)Security, 48.
  Campus mail, 47.
  Campus Map, 80; mapping, 71.
  Campus radio, 51.
  Campus Reality Stabilizers, 34, 83.
  Campus rules, 8.
  Career Planning Center, 489
  Cast Iron Stomach advantage, 18.
  Catalogs, 105.
  Cat Suit, 86.
  Cats, the ArchDean’s, 87.
  Chaos theory, 105.
  Character; types, 12; death, 107.
  Chemistry Department, 28.
  CIA Gulls, 88.
  Cinematography Department, 39.
  Classes, 9.
  Clock Tower, 72.
  Clueless disadvantage, 21.
  College of Communications (CoC), 42.
  College of Metaphysics (CoM), 40; build-
  ing, 72; and time-travel, 96; dean, 59.
  College of Obscure and Unhealthy
  Professions, see COUP.
  College of Temporal Happenstance,
  Ultimate Lies and Historical
  Undertakings, see C.T.H.U.L.H.U.
  College of Weird and Unnatural Sciences
  and Engineering, see WUSE.
  College of Zen Surrealism (CZS), 45.
  Computer Wizardry Department, 29.
  Continuing education, 7.
  Control Ratings, 104.
  Cost of living, 100.
  COUP, 32; dean, 59.
  Courses, 9; creation, 33.
  Crockpot of the Gods, 85.
  Croesus Ilumni Center, 49, 75.
  C.T.H.U.L.H.U., 34; Campus Crusade
  for, 51; and time-travel, 97; dean, 57.
  Cultural Events, 10.
  Daily Illuminator, 51.
  Departments, forming new, 31.
  Dimensional gates, 83, 85.
  Disadvantages, 16; new, 21.
  Do-It-Yourself Rubber Science, 104.
  D.O.C.T.O.R. Department, 37.
  Doesn’t-matter, 82.
  Dorms, 6; major, 9; buildings, 75.
  Dryads, 88.
  Duty disadvantage, 16.
  Einstein, 104.
  Elephant’s Junkyard, 79.
  Enemy disadvantage, 16.
  English Department, 45.
  Enigmatic Alien Device Button-Pushing
  Table, 110.
  Evil Twin disadvantage, 21.
  Faculty, 6, 13; bloodfeuds, 35; visiting,
  14.
  Financial aid, 7.
  Food, 76, 99.
  Forms, 48.
  Founder, 71.
  Fraternaties, 52.
  Future History Department, 37.
  Gadgeteer advantage, 18.
  Gadgeteering, 106; at IOU, 105; inventing
  new devices, 111; weird science, 106;
  time required, 111; expenses, 112; dur-
  ing adventures, 114; quick, 114; neces-
  sary skills, 111.
  Gadget Development Cost Table, 112.
  Gadgets, 109; inventing, 111; loaning or
  selling, 110; bugs, 111; malfunction-
  ing, 112.
  Generic buildings, 72.
  Genetic Engineering Department, 28.
  George the Janitor, 62.
  Gerbils, zombie, 88.
  “Gizmo” gadgets, 113.
  Glossary, 124.
  Government grants, 30.
  Grades, 10.
  Graduate students, 12; in bloodfeuds, 35.
  Guaranteed Play-Balance Table, 107.
  GURPS Cyberpunk, 94.
  GURPS Fantasy, 93.
  GURPS Lensman, 94.
  GURPS Space, 94.
  GURPS Supers, 93.
  GURPS Time Travel, 94, 95.
  Health/Life Insurance advantage, 18.
  Health Services, 48.
  Honor Student advantage, 18.
  Housing, 98; dormitory, 98; off-campus,
  99.
  Illiteracy disadvantage, 16.
  Illuminati, 8,15.
  Ilumni, 13.
  Immunity to Poison advantage, 18.
  Inapplicable Mathematics Department, 45.
  IOU Industrial Park, 79.
  IRS Agents, 88.
  Job Table, 101.
  Jock advantage, 18.
  Journalism Department, 42.
  Kajones, 89.
  Klutz disadvantage, 22.
  Laboratory Rats, 90.
  Law Suit, 86.
  Lazarus Health Center, 48.
  Legality Classes, 104.
  Library, 8, 49; building, 72; Librarian, 63.
  Life-Savers, 85.
  Lives on Campus disadvantage, 22.
  Local Citizenry, 14.
  Luck advantage, 16.
  127
  IINNDDEEXX
  
  Madame Curry, 64.
  Madame Salome’s Performing Arts
  Center, 75.
  Magic, 115; weird, 115; pun, 115.
  Magic Items, 85.
  Maiham Stadium, 76.
  Main Building, 71.
  Mall Rats, 90.
  Mass Media Department, 43.
  Medieval Studies Department, 36.
  Meeps, 89.
  Military Biology Department, 30.
  Military Science and Cost Overruns
  Department, 30.
  Miniaturizer, 83.
  Modern History Department, 37.
  Money, 100.
  Money Suit, 86.
  Moopsball, 54; rules, 54.
  Mundane Background disadvantage, 22.
  Mundanity advantage, 19.
  Museum, 8; building, 73.
  Nerd disadvantage, 23.
  Nexus, interdimensional, 6, 8.
  No Insurance disadvantage, 23.
  Organization, University, 26.
  Other genres, IOU in, 93.
  Pancho Sanza’s, 79.
  Parking permits, 98.
  Patron advantage, 16; unwilling, 16.
  The Pent, 71.
  Personalities, 56.
  Physics Department, 31.
  Pigeons, campus, 89.
  Pocket dimensions, University regulations
  of, 77.
  Point levels, 12.
  Po-Peel artifact, 83.
  Poverty disadvantage, 16.
  Prehistory Department, 35.
  Primitive disadvantage, 17.
  Professor Lilly Ann Bie, 61.
  Professor Patricia Miller, 61.
  Prospective students, 7, 52.
  Protection Racquet, 85.
  Psionics, 114.
  Public TOILET, 34; building, 74.
  Pun Magic, 115.
  Pyramid Mall, 78.
  Quantum mechanics, 104.
  Quick gadgeteering, 114; necessary skills,
  114; required materials, 114; time
  required, 114; expenses, 114; during
  adventures, 114.
  Rabbits, Lab, 89.
  Random Side-Effects Table, 108.
  Rapier Wit advantage, 20.
  Rats, 90; laboratory, 90; mall, 90; tunnel,
  90.
  Reality Checks advantage, 19.
  Recreation, 100.
  Reorganizations, 26.
  Research, 6.
  Resurrectatron, 84.
  Rival universities, 96.
  Robocrat, 63.
  Roommates, 99.
  Samples: students, 64; fraternities and
  sororities, 53-54.
  SCA, 38; chairthing, 60.
  Scholarship, Smith & Wesson, 7.
  School for Performing and Creative Arts,
  see SPCA.
  School of Anti-Social Sciences (SASS),
  see WUSE.
  School of Social Anti-Sciences, see
  SSAS.
  School of Conservative Arts, see SCA.
  School of Law, 33.
  School of Medicine, 32.
  Science! skill, 23.
  Secret Advantage advantage, 20.
  Secret Disadvantage disadvantage, 23.
  Skills, 17; new, 23.
  Social Stigma disadvantage, 17.
  Solar Power Plant, 75.
  Sororities, 52.
  Space, 106.
  SPCA, 38.
  Sports, 54.
  Squirrels, 90; watcher, 91; vampire, 91;
  mugger, 91.
  SSAS, 43.
  Staff, 13; generic, 69.
  Starting wealth, 100.
  Status, 100.
  Stranglevine cactus, 91.
  Steam Tunnels, 10, 77.
  Student Confederacy, 73.
  Student Disservices,
  50.
  Student Handbook, 9.
  Student Investment
  Services, 50.
  Student Liberation
  Organization, 52.
  Student Organizations,
  51-53.
  Student Overground,
  51.
  Student Scab Building,
  73.
  Student Senate, 51.
  Student Union, 48.
  Studying, 10.
  Stupid Hat Tricks, 86.
  SuperDuplicator, 84.
  Superpowers, 114.
  Survival (IOU) skill, 17.
  Tech level, 82.
  Technology, 103.
  Temporal Metaphysics Deparment, 41.
  Tenure advantage, 20.
  Thaumaturgy Department, 41.
  THE Computer, 27, 62, 84.
  THE Computer Science Department, 31.
  The Team, 54.
  Things, 81.
  Time travel, 95, 97.
  Three-Piece Suits, 86.
  Town, 78.
  Transportation, 99; personal cars, 99;
  campus shuttles, 99; public, 99; taxis,
  99.
  Treatment advantage, 20.
  Tunnel Rats, 90.
  Turtles, Arctic furred, 91.
  Undergraduate students, 9, 12; in blood-
  feuds, 35.
  University Heights, 79.
  Unseen Dean, 32.
  Un-suit-able, 86.
  Unusual Background advantage, 16.
  VCR Remotes, 86.
  Vehicle Pool, 50.
  Vending Machines, 84.
  Visitors, 14.
  Visiting Faculty, 14.
  Wealth advantage, 16.
  Weird Magic, 115.
  Weird Magic skill, 24.
  Weirdness Magnet disadvantage, 17.
  Weird Science skill, 24; TL modifiers,
  103; gadgeteering, 106.
  Weird Science skill, 24.
  WUSE, 26; and time-travel, 28, 96; dean,
  58.
  Yrth, 93.
  IINNDDEEXX
  128
  
  STEVE JACKSON GAMES
  STEVE JACKSON GAMES
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