Everyone thought Vince would live forever. Seems they were wrong, because Vince is dead. Of course, knowing Vince it could be another one of his pranks and he's going to jump out of the coffin with a drink in his hand, laughing his head off. But perhaps this time Vince hasn't been able to cheat death, he finally chanced it one too many times. Anyway, here you are, at the funeral. Lot of unfamiliar faces along with with the people you do know, but Vince always did move in lots of circles, a real social butterfly he was.

"Helllllllo and welcome to the All States Roller Derby championships! Oh boy what a line up we have for you today. After a brutal round of semis yesterday we have managed to get down to our final two teams. Who will be the winner of the prestigious All States Roller Derby Cup? Stay tuned to find out!"

Join the Time Police, they said. It's a cushy life, they said, in the Women's Auxiliary of the Xenochronometry Division of the Standards Inspectorate. Snappy uniform, they said, government pension and nothing more laborious to do than fill out the occasional B11 Notification of Noncompliant Measurement Units (Revised). Yeah, right. Because since breakfast you’ve been shot at twice, erased from history six times, trapped in five temporal paradoxes and narrowly avoided having sex with your own grandfather. And it’s still only glargle past threep. Again.

In a world where the Rules Lawyers enforce the holy writ of the Dungeon Master’s Guide, there is little mercy for those who stray from the One True Way. So when your village comes due for a Wandering Monster Check, it's all hands on deck to make sure that you're fully compliant with the tables in Appendix C. And that’s when you find out the authorities have rezoned your wilderness hex "Sub-Tropical to Tropical - Age of Dinosaurs."

Deep under Wellington, something stirs...

KapCon has been dead but dreaming for the past few months, but is now beginning to stir to life to eat the minds of the puny fleshy things that walk the surface of the earth, never contemplating what horror lurks beneath organise next year's con. The first step: organise the first round GMs. We need to start early because first round game details go in the flyer, which we would like to have out in time for Buckets of Dice (or CONFusion at the latest). So, we're looking for some volunteers. At this stage, all we need is a title, a blurb, and most importantly, a commitment to be there and run. If you can do that, then please email us or chip in on the NZRaG discussion.

The flickering light of neon signs illuminate the blood soaked streets from their lofty perch atop the corporate towers of NeoSteelsberg. These mega corporations tower over the darkened streets of the city, but in those streets, just beyond their reach lie the true power of the city.

This power has become is fractured, years of war have rent the underworld families and divided this once strong Mafia powerbase. On any normal night, the air would be filled with the stench of blood and the scream of police sirens, but tonight is special. Tonight, for just one night, the war ends. The guns are silenced and the blood has time to dry. The powers of the underworld join together to pay their respects to the fallen.

But who was Big Tony? Word on street is rife with rumour. Some say he was a deep cover federal agent, others have him as a member of the ruling body of the Mafia from Sicily, still more connect him with the mega corporations. One thing is true, his death has attracted the attention of all three of the underworld family heads; which forces a second, more dire question.

Who killed Big Tony?

Tonight, the city holds its breath as the three criminal powers meet under the same roof. For this night holds more promise than any in years, this night is maybe the last and only chance for the warring factions of the cities underworld to reach peace once more, or forever rend it asunder.

In top contention; La Cosa Nostra, the Malandrino family. With years of heritage behind them, tonight presents an opportunity to reclaim the city for themselves and to finally rid the streets of an infection they have been forced to share power with for too long, the Irish.

With no need for fancy titles and the pomp and ceremony of their Sicilian counterparts, the Irish Mob has controlled the lower city for decades. Tonight, with the Commissione present, true control of the city is once again within their grasp, but their lofty goals are not without complication.

From the shadows of the new world wide web, the Matrix, a new power has emerged. They need no hit man to kill you or strong-arm to make threats, with but a whisper and keystroke they can steal your very identity. The NeoMafia have struggled against the traditional powers for too long, and now demand recognition.

Tonight, the city holds its breath these warring factions the sit together in an uneasy peace. Traitors will be unmasked. Bonds of friendship made and broken. Love found and lost Peace made or destroyed Tonight, amidst the neon glow and fading gun smoke, the fate of NeoSteelsberg will be decided.

Mafia 2071.

The new Drupal version is very clean and easy to use and will hopefully make my life easier!

KapCon the Thirteenth : I Know What You Role-played Last Summer, was held at Wellington High School over the period 19 - 20th of January 2002 and again represented a record level in KapCon attendance.