Sunday 29 January 2012

Train on the Brain

Murder on The Orient Express, one of Agatha Christie's most famous books, was first published in the January of 1934, and the glamorous setting makes it a great book to cheer you up post-Christmas, when winter stops being magical and starts feeling rather bleak. In light of this, I thought it might be a good time to talk about the Orient Express.

Generally speaking, I like trains. I'd even go as far as to say they were my favourite form of transport. I like the mechanical ticking, whirring noise they make and the feeling of escape you get watching the world rush by outside the windows.

But let's be honest with ourselves: trains are not what they once were. They are usually crowded and invariably smell of chips, and, if you're really unlucky, urine. They are never on time when you are, but, magically, they are always on time when you are late. Worse still, there is rarely anywhere to sit down, meaning you end up wedged underneath someones armpit in a corridor, feeling cheated at having paid £50 return for the privilege.

Every little part of me hopes that there will be a sudden return to classic train design. I long to jump on an ordinary train from Stroud to London, walk down the smart, wood-panelled corridor, slide back a compartment door and settle down onto a leather bench, reading an Agatha Christie. Sadly, I fear that this is never going to happen; the closest I will ever get to this experience will be to travel aboard the Orient Express.

The Orient Express trains are amazing, really amazing: impossibly glamorous, ornate and nostalgic. There are various trains dating from different periods, that run in different parts of the world, under the Orient Express umbrella. The most famous is probably the Venice Simplon-Orient Express, but there are three UK trains: the British Pullman, the Northern Belle and the Royal Scotsman.








For those interested, the British Pullman does run murder-mystery events on board, which include a five-course meal (no doubt composed of minuscule, unimaginably pretty food) and, more importantly, half a bottle of wine. However, it is somewhat expensive: the price of a decent second-hand car, a Mulberry handbag or a week in a fairly down-at-heel hotel somewhere in the Med — too much to spend on one train journey... isn't it?

I doubt there will be a time when I can justify a ticket to travel on the Orient Express. On balance, this is probably a good thing: if I ever did, I would probably vomit with excitement, all over the luxurious mahogany fittings, which, I'm sure, is not what they expect from their patrons.

For the time being, I will have to be content with murder-mystery games set on trains. Now, it isn't the easiest thing to convey 'train' at a dinner party, and I still haven't quite worked out how to do it (if you have any ideas then I would love to hear them). The best I've come up so far is little lamps on white table-clothed tables, which looks pretty cosy, but not necessarily that much like a train!

Murder-mystery party games set on trains

A First Class Murder, Paul Lamond Games
Last Train From Paris, How to Host a Murder
Dead on Time, Cheatwell Games

For inspiration

The most recent, somewhat controversial, dark and rather visually lovely ITV adaption of Murder on the Orient Express, with the wonderful David Suchet as Hercule Poirot. You can watch the trailer here.

The romantically shot Chanel No 5 advert set aboard the Orient Express.

The old PC game The Last Express, isn't it beautiful? (see my previous post here if you are interested in this game).

Sunday 22 January 2012

The Dressing-up Box: #1 The Roaring '20s

A dressing-up box

When finding your costume for a murder-mystery party, there a few issues with buying your outfit entirely from a fancy dress shop. Such 'fancy dress' is usually made of highly synthetic fabric and looks like it was designed to feature in a bad porno. Not really a good look, unless, of course, you want to get cast in a bad porno (not what this blog is about, in case you were wondering).

I recommend instead a dressing-up box, so you can gradually collect bits and pieces and then fit them together for each murder-mystery party. I say this so casually; of course, I don't have a box myself so much as a collection cotton bags under the bed. But when I grow up I hope to have a massive oak trunk to keep my costumes in... and a big house by the sea, french doors leading onto a rambling garden, shabby velvet armchairs etc. (None of the latter are looking terribly likely but I live in hope that the box, at least, will be mine.)

This week I seem to want 1920s-style things, and I've found them all over the place (the 1920s, apparently, are having a second wind) but mostly on my nemesis Asos (vortex of wasted time and money) and Etsy (much better as it supports small, independent sellers).

If you decide to do a '20s murder mystery, think decadence and glamour. Also think drinking too much and at least one guest accidentally incinerating your curtains with a cigarette in a long holder. Good times will be had by all.

Below are the main characteristics of 1920s fashion.

1920s fashion

* Drop-waisted dresses, just-below-the-knee in length. (If that looks as bad on you as it does on me, you can skirt around this issue - excuse the pun - by getting something with '20s fringing, sequins or feathers but of a shorter length.)

* Close-fitting hats or sequined caps or turbans. (Headbands, although popularly associated with the 1920s, in fact had their heyday in the early 1900s, and are more associated with art nouveau than deco.)

* Shoes with a smallish heel and gently rounded point, and often T-bar or with an ankle strap.

* Pearls, art deco jewellery.

* Lots of exotic beading, feathers and fur

* Clothes and jewellery inspired by ancient Egypt. (Tutankhamen's tomb was discovered in 1922 and piqued public interest.)

  
Some great 1920s-style bits and pieces around at the moment (January 2012): Sass and Bide ‘Winding Road’ feather and Battenburg dress, SOS; Detail of beautiful beading, vintage 1920s bag, Etsy; 1920s replica ‘Ritz’ shoe; Revival Retro; Faux fox fur stole, Wrap Me In Couture, Etsy; Black metallic turban, ASOS
 
1920s-themed murder-mystery games


A First Class Murder, Paul Lamond Games
Murder at the Four Deuces, Dinner and a Murder
The Chicago Caper, How to Host a Murder
Pyramids of Giza, Paul Lamond Games

I hope you enjoy being a flapper for the night, if you need a few tips on hosting a 1920s dinner party, click here. And if you want to check out my fun downloadable murder mystery dinner party games, click here.

Jessica xxx

Sunday 8 January 2012

A Day in the Life of a Murder-Mystery Game Writer

Alongside my full-time job, I am currently writing a 16-player interactive murder-mystery game for the lovely, ever-patient Freeform Games. Something tells me I should have been rather less ambitious.
   Most of the time I love writing, but some days, like today, turn out like this:

10:00 Get up. Make coffee. See the laptop glinting in the morning light. Suddenly have a mysterious urge to clean the fridge. End up cleaning the entire flat surrounding the fridge too.

13:30 Square up to ancient laptop. Turn it on. It is making a malevolent buzzing noise. It is probably thinking about crashing and then blowing up, for something to do.

14:00 Realise I haven't eaten anything yet. Inhale three shortbread biscuits, followed by more coffee.


17:00 Am forced to acknowledge that instead of writing my game I have wasted hours looking up murder-mystery weekends and Orient Express trips, neither of which I can afford. Feel bad about not having left the flat or achieved anything; get up and walk around, flapping arms, as though this is a substitute for either of these.

17:20 Actually start doing some work.

17:25 Am suddenly hungry. Get up and make 'salad' of cucumber, tinned chickpeas, cheddar, lemon juice and black pepper, messing up newly-cleaned kitchen in the process. It is verging on unpleasant, but I eat it anyway.

17:40 Hate Zoho. Shout at it for being a rubbish program. Think about drinking something other than coffee, but don't. Wish I was a smoker so the anguished writer scene would at least be picturesque.

18:00 Realise I am stuck. Cry. Consider turning to Poirot box-set for comfort but decide to soldier on.

18:20 Admit defeat, wondering what other, normal people have done with their Sunday.