Roland Volz

A beer & pretzels RPG of espionage hijinks at the dawn of time. It’s a rough life out there for a caveman, especially one from a small tribe such as your own. You live in a cave, subsisting on fruits and berries, and the occasional piece of wild game. Nobody’s invented pastimes yet, so you sit around telling stories to one another, trying to keep warm. That is, when you’re not running for your life from some ravenous saber-toothed tiger or a raiding party from a rival tribe.

A beer & pretzels RPG of espionage hijinks at the dawn of time. It’s a rough life out there for a caveman, especially one from a small tribe such as your own. You live in a cave, subsisting on fruits and berries, and the occasional piece of wild game. Nobody’s invented pastimes yet, so you sit around telling stories to one another, trying to keep warm. That is, when you’re not running for your life from some ravenous saber-toothed tiger or a raiding party from a rival tribe.

You’re not the largest or strongest tribe around; that would be the Rock Crushers over in the mountains. You’re not the smartest and you haven’t discovered any of the basic inventions the smart tribes (like the One- Stone Tribe) are busy developing – levers, fire, the wheel. You don’t have the best lands (like the Green Grass Tribe), or the best cave paintings (like the Big Mojo Tribe), or even the best luck (like those hated Red Steps from down the valley). You’re not even the sneakiest and most underhanded tribe – that would be the Black Worm Tribe from the swamps. All you’ve got is guts and determination, and a few clubs and spears to level the playing field.

So, when the chief called you all together, everyone agreed what had to be done – you’re going to have to steal all those things from the other tribes. You’re going to have to copy the inventions, sabotage the rival tribes’ mammoth hunts so they’ll be just a little bit weaker than you when it comes time to expand the tribe’s lands, and mess up their cave paintings so their shamans will have a little less mojo next year. All as the agents of the chief; but remember, if you’re caught, he didn’t know nothin’ about it!

With a little bit of native ability and a whole lot of luck, you’ll lick this “survival of the fittest” thing yet!