Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 23, 2022

We Are Not The Same

Someone recommended I check out the Eberron campaign setting. I could see myself running it with a few tweaks. I would change the names a bit (way too many "Dragon-somethings"). But the magic-as-technology thing is intensely annoying. I would rather play in a game where wizards ride stagecoaches and helium zeppelins and send telegraphs, than one where every post office is run by a dude casting sending.

'High Magic' in D&D should be a lot less continual light streetlamps and more of this, and I am reprinting it here so I can link to it during internet arguments. 



Before the black-armored image there hung seven silver lamps, wrought in the form of horses' skulls, with flames issuing changeably in blue and purple and crimson from their eye-sockets. Wild and lurid was their light, and the face of the demon, peering from under his crested helmet, was filled with malign, equivocal shadows that shifted and changed eternally. And sitting in his serpent-carven chair, Namirrha regarded the statue grimly, with a deep-furrowed frown between his eyes: for he had asked a certain thing of Thasaidon, and the fiend, replying through the statue, had refused him. And rebellion was in the heart of Namirrha, grown mad with pride, and deeming himself the lord of all sorcerers and a ruler by his own right among the princes of devildom. So, after long pondering, he repeated his request in a bold and haughty voice, like one who addresses an equal rather than the all-formidable suzerain to whom he had sworn a fatal fealty.

"I have helped you heretofore in all things," said the image, with stony and sonorous accents that were echoed metallically in the seven silver lamps. "Yea, the undying worms of fire and darkness have come forth like an army at your summons, and the wings of nether genii have risen to occlude the sun when you called them. But, verily, I will not aid you in this vengeance you have planned: for the emperor Zotulla has done me no wrong and has served me well though unwittingly; and the people of Xylac, by reason of their turpitudes, are not the least of my terrestial worshippers. Therefore, Namirrha, it were well for you to live in peace with Zotulla, and well to forget this olden wrong that was done to the beggar-boy Narthos. For the ways of destiny are strange, and the workings of its laws sometimes hidden; and truly, if the hooves of Zotulla's palfrey had not spurned you and trodden you under, your life had been otherwise, and the name and renown of Namirrha had still slept in oblivion as a dream undreamed. Yea, you would tarry still as a beggar in Ummaos, content with a beggar's guerdon, and would never have fared forth to become the pupil of the wise and learned Ouphaloc; and I, Thasaidon, would have lost the lordliest of all necromancers who have accepted my service and my bond. Think well, Namirrha, and ponder these matters: for both of us, it would seem, are indebted to Zotulla in all gratitude for the trampling he gave you..."

-Clark Ashton Smith, The Dark Eidolon


"Listen, my lord. I was once a great sorcerer in the south. Men spoke of Thoth-Amon as they spoke of Rammon. King Ctesophon of Stygia gave me great honor, casting down the magicians from the high places to exalt me above them. They hated me, but they feared me, for I controlled beings from outside which came at my call and did my bidding. By Set, mine enemy knew not the hour when he might awake at midnight to feel the taloned fingers of a nameless horror at his throat! I did dark and terrible magic with the Serpent Ring of Set, which I found in a nighted tomb a league beneath the earth, forgotten before the first man crawled out of the slimy sea..."

..."Blind your eyes, mystic serpent," he chanted in a blood-freezing whisper. "Blind your eyes to the moonlight and open them on darker gulfs! What do you see, O serpent of Set? Whom do you call from the gulfs of the Night? Whose shadow falls on the waning Light? Call him to me, O serpent of Set!"

Stroking the scales with a peculiar circular motion of his fingers, a motion which always carried the fingers back to their starting place, his voice sank still lower as he whispered dark names and grisly incantations forgotten the world over save in the grim hinterlands of dark Stygia, where monstrous shapes move in the dusk of the tombs.

There was a movement in the air about him, such a swirl as is made in water when some creature rises to the surface. A nameless, freezing wind blew on him briefly, as if from an opened Door. Thoth felt a presence at his back, but he did not look about...

-Robert E Howard, The Phoenix on the Sword


Monday, October 18, 2021

Land's End: Appendix N

Since I have started a "Land's End Season 2" campaign, I thought it would be a fun post to collect some of my favourite inspirations for the campaigns here.

Some of these informed the tone or atmosphere more generally, and others I stole from directly. See if you can guess which is which!


Clark Ashton Smith's Zothique cycle. Desolate wastes, corrupt wizards, a terrified populace, and Mordiggian!

You already knew it.

Dark Souls, the best console game ever.

Robert E. Howard's El Borak stories. Adventuring amongst savage tribes in the desolate regions of the world, discovering lost cities and vast hidden treasures.

Clark Ashton Smith's Hyperborea cycle.

The old Dark Horse Indiana Jones comics, especially Fate of Atlantis. I was going to mention Raiders, but I already wrote a whole blog post about it a few years ago.

H. Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines. The original 'hidden valley' adventure site!

Myth: The Fallen Lords, by Bungie. Dark fantasy wargame that rips off the Black Company extensively.

Daggerfall, the best Elder Scrolls game. Crude, buggy, dark, mysterious, with a charm all its own.

Realm of Chaos: Slaves to Darkness

Melan's Fomalhaut campaign and materials, like Isles on an Emerald Sea.

Geoffrey McKinney's Carcosa. I wouldn't run it on its own, but picking bits & pieces from it works really well.

Oni Press' Wasteland comics. Post-apocalyptic desert adventures. 

The Secret Teachings of All Ages, by Manly P. Hall. Dense and difficult, sometimes woefully outdated, but worth a read.

Exile: Escape from the Pit by Spiderweb Software. Taking it back to the '90s!

Planet mother fucking Algol

Jason and the Argonauts film (1963). Man those outfits were boss.

Journey to the Center of the Earth, by Jules Verne.


Also: the Wilderlands, everyone's gaming blogs, the SRD, and a giant stack of reference works!

I can't really believe it myself, but Lovecraft doesn't actually get a mention. Land's End is much more pulpy and action-packed, it doesn't really have any sense of horror. There are some gross Lovecraftian monsters but the Chthulhu mythos doesn't even really make sense in the setting, except for a few veiled references.


[LATE EDIT: I forgot one absolutely VITAL component!!!]



Thursday, February 20, 2020

Enemies of the New Sun in the Wilderlands

I read Shadow of the Torturer five times in a row before I got my hands on the rest of the Book of the New Sun. The whole thing was like a cruise missile right into my brain, and I haven't seen many people (except WWCD?) try to adapt anything from these books into their games. I introduced a Postulant of the New Sun in Land's End recently. I don't know if his involvement in the campaign will be significant, but I thought some highly enjoyable homework would be in order.

It's time to look at the mysterious ur-monsters of Urth! Details on these creatures are very scarce, so here are a few relevant quotes from the books. Glory in the masterful prose of Gene Wolfe for a little bit, and I'll try to make sense of it all further down.


**** ACHTUNG! SOME SPOILERS AHEAD. JUST READ THE DAMN BOOKS! ****


Eric He


The Shadow of the Torturer:

- I saw a caique, with high, sharp prow and stern, and a bellying sail, making south with the dark current; and against my will I followed it for a time—to the delta and the swamps, and at last to the flashing sea where that great beast Abaia, carried from the farther shores of the universe in anteglacial days, wallows until the moment comes for him and his kind to devour the continents. Then I abandoned all thoughts of the south and her ice-choked sea and turned north to the mountains and the rising of the river.


- The water closed over me, yet I did not drown. I felt I might breathe water, yet I did not breathe. Everything was so clear that I felt I fell through an emptiness more translucent than air. Far off loomed great shapes—things hundreds of times larger than a man. Some seemed ships, and some clouds; one was a living head without a body; one had a hundred heads. A blue haze obscured them, and I saw below me a country of sand, carved by the currents. A palace stood there that was greater than our Citadel, but it was ruinous, its halls as unroofed as its gardens; through it moved immense figures, white as leprosy.

Nearer I fell, and they turned up their faces to me, faces such as I had seen once beneath Gyoll; they were women, naked, with hair of sea-foam green and eyes of coral. Laughing, they watched me fall, and their laughter came bubbling up to me. Their teeth were white and pointed, each a finger's length.

I fell nearer. Their hands reached up to me and stroked me as a mother strokes her child. The gardens of the palace held sponges and sea anemones and countless other beauties to which I could put no name. The great women circled me round, and I was only a doll before them. "Who are you?" I asked. "And what do you do here?"

"We are the brides of Abaia. The sweethearts and playthings, the toys and valentines of Abaia. The land could not hold us. Our breasts are battering rams, our buttocks would break the backs of bulls. Here we feed, floating and growing, until we are great enough to mate with Abaia, who will one day devour the continents."


The Claw of the Conciliator:


-"You were correct when you said Erebus and Abaia are as great as mountains, and I admit that I was surprised you knew it. Most people lack the imagination to conceive of anything so large, and think them no bigger than houses or ships. Their actual size is so great that while they remain on this world they can never leave the water—their own weight would crush them. You mustn't think of them battering at the Wall with their fists, or tossing boulders about. But by their thoughts they enlist servants, and they fling them against all rules that rival their own."


- "We watch the giant because he grows. In that he is like us, and like our father-husband, Abaia. Eventually he must come to the water, when the land can bear him no longer. But you may come now, if you will. You will breathe—by our gift—as easily as you breathe the thin, weak wind here, and whenever you wish you shall return to the land and take up your crown. This river Cephissus flows to Gyoll, and Gyoll to the peaceful sea. There you may ride dolphin-back through current-swept fields of coral and pearl. My sisters and I will show you the forgotten cities built of old, where a hundred trapped generations of your kin bred and died when they had been forgotten by you above."


The Citadel of the Autarch:


- Master Ash pursed his lips. “Your Commonwealth is stronger than I would have believed, then. No wonder your foes are in despair.”

“If that is strength, may the All Merciful preserve us from weakness. Master Ash, the front may collapse at any time. It would be wise for you to come with me to a safer place.”

He appeared not to have heard. “If Erebus and Abaia and the rest enter the field themselves, it will be a new struggle. If and when. Interesting."


- “But you were right when you called them the slaves of Erebus. They think themselves the allies of those who wait in the deep. In truth, Erebus and his allies would give them to me if I would give our south to them. Give you and all the rest.”


- "Why?” I asked. “Why?” I was on my knees beside him.

“Because all else is worse. Until the New Sun comes, we have but a choice of evils. All have been tried, and all have failed. Goods in common, the rule of the people ... everything. You wish for progress? The Ascians have it. They are deafened by it, crazed by the death of Nature till they are ready to accept Erebus and the rest as gods."


- And yet there is a third explanation. No human being or near-human being can conceive of such minds as those of Abaia, Erebus, and the rest. Their power surpasses understanding, and I know now that they could crush us in a day if it were not that they count only enslavement, and not annihilation, as victory. The great undine I saw was their creature, and less than their slave: their toy; it is possible that the power of the Claw, the Claw taken from a growing thing so near their sea, comes ultimately from them.


The Urth of the New Sun:

- "...Great Erebus, who has established his kingdom there, will soon be driven before them, with all his fierce, pale warriors. He will unite his strength with Abaia's, whose kingdom is in the warm waters. With others, less in might but equal in cunning, they will offer allegiance to the rulers of the lands beyond Urth's waist, which you call Ascia; and once united with them will devour them utterly."


- "The armies of Erebus follow the waves," he said, "and all the defeats they suffered at your husband's hands will be avenged."


- "When has Abaia sought our good?"
"Always. He might have destroyed you..."
For the space of six breaths she could not continue, but I motioned Valeria and the rest to silence.
"Ask your husband. In a day, or a few days. He's tried to tame you instead. Catch Catodon... cast out his conation. What good? Abaia would make of us a great people."



Putting It All Together


According to Wikipedia: Erebus means 'darkness,' and can refer to either a primordial god born of Chaos, or "a place of darkness between earth and Hades." Abaia is a huge eel from Melanesian mythology.

I suppose this might explain where Wolfe got the words, but not his inspiration in creating these entities. If it weren't for that underwater monster in The Knight (I think aquatic things are a bit of a preoccupation for him) I would say the inspiration is pure Lovecraft. To wit:

1 - Live in the ocean (Erebus in the cold northern waters, Abaia in the equatorial ones)
2 - Of enormous size, too big to walk on land
3 - Space aliens who landed on earth aeons ago
4 - Could destroy humanity but would rather enslave it

Sounds just like Chthulhu, right? But what it also reminded me of is Armadad Bog, the god of the Viridians! Reading through the Wilderlands book gave me a few ideas:

Erebus, Abaia, and Armadad Bog are aliens from a far-off planet. They fell to the seas during the Uttermost War and remained after the other races departed. They predate the gods and most other sentient beings. Perhaps they were bio-weapons created by the Markrabs? Perhaps summoned by the Demon Empires, or even the elder races? Nobody knows anymore.

By crossbreeding humans with aquatic races (merfolk, deep ones, skum, etc) and their own alien genes, they created three of the peoples of the wilderlands:

-In the Sea of Five Winds, Abaia created the Orichalans, purple-skinned and hated by everyone for the excesses of their lost Dragon Empire.
-In Trident Gulf, Armadad Bog created the Viridians, decadent green-skinned imperialists.
-At the same time[1] in the Uther Pentwegern Sea, Erebus created the Avalonians, tall & pale ice-wizards of the far north.

This Lovecraftian crossbreeding was essential to the system. The entities can only exert psychic control over:
a) those who open their minds to them (the Ascians, madmen, or your classic Chthulhu Cult)
b) their children: the Viridians, Avalonians and Orichalans.

None actually know it, but the Viridan and Orichalan Empires were driven onwards in their conquests by the alien seed in their blood, which wanted only the enslavement of all humankind. Tragically, these cultures continue to choose their leaders from the "truest" among them: the greenest Viridians, the tallest & palest Avalonians, etc. In other words, those who have the most alien blood, and are most susceptible to influence by these malignant beings! Emperor Hautulin Seheitt of Viridistan has been acting strangely of late, and nobody knows why. Armadad Bog is stirring in the Gulf, and his dream of a global Viridian Empire rises in his children once more...

Armadad Bog is worshipped clandestinely as a god in Viridistan, and Erebus is venerated in Valon as Aram Kor, patron of wizards and lord of ice. Almost nobody knows the truth about them except a hidden sect which has guarded this lore throughout the ages. In Viridistan it's called Mer Shunna and I'll write them up for the next Nameless Cults!


*****

[1] According to the Wilderlands timeline, the cities of Viridistan and Valon were founded only 19 years apart.

Thanks to Steve for giving me the idea for this post in the first place. I'm pretty sick and have a harsh headache right now, which is why I'm writing this up instead of working on playable material for next game (or doing work). Oh well!



Saturday, September 14, 2019

Necropolis

Last year I found a book called Necropolis - London and Its Dead at the used bookstore. It gets me PUMPED! Although I left my Spoils of Annwn game on the back burner, Necropolis gave me some great ideas for the haunted ruins of Londinium. I still haven't finished reading the book and actually can't find it at the moment, but sometimes thinking up new undead monsters is the only thing worth doing...


*****

"Surely you know that just as the momentous events of the past cast their shadows down the ages, so now, when the sun is drawing toward the dark, our own shadows race into the past to trouble mankind's dreams."
-The Sword of the Lictor, Gene Wolfe

Remember that bit in From Hell (the comic, not the movie) when Gull has that vision of the skyscraper? The carnage, death and infernal magic that brought Londinium low twist not just the city's environment but the very force of time itself. For now, it's just an excuse to do things like this:


PLAGUE-DEAD

Bleeding, weeping, covered in sores, their skin turning black, these zombies still think they're alive (they seem so from a distance) and will do anything to avoid "dying" of the disease that still infests them. Dressed in peasant rags from the plague years (perceptive PCs might notice the differences in fashion and realize something's up), clutching rosaries or garlanded with herbs they stumble, crawl and scream for mercy - from you or God, who knows? They aren't actually intelligent, the things they say are like tics with no real meaning. All the while they're trying to hold your hand, get you to pray for them and lick your face.

Stats as zombies but if they touch you, could get the black plague. Save vs. death or you're fucked: lose 1d4 CON/day. Every day you get a new save, and the disease has run its course if you can make 2 saves in a row (if you're a merciful DM). Cure Disease and similar magic will help as normal, but only high-level spells like Restoration will restore lost CON points.





PLAGUE PIT HORDE


To this day there are places under London they can't dig for fear of what will be unearthed. In 1665, the expense of individual burial plots for each dead Londoner was too high. The poor of the city were dumped by the authorities into huge mass graves. Since the city's Bishop wasn't willing to consecrate ground that couldn't be held in perpetuity by the church, these short-term plague pits were left unhallowed. And now the poor dead are restless.

A great mass of human bones, animal skeletons and dirt all mixed together. The horde might be stuck in a wall as if just breached by digging machinery - this makes the immediate area highly dangerous, but much worse is a horde freeing itself to move around, crawling & dragging slowly through the cramped dungeon corridors, hungry to add infected victims to itself.

Stats go like this:

No 1, AL C, Mv 60' (20') or none, AC 13, HD 6, Att 1d6x1d6 + plague, Sv F, ML 12, HC XII + XIII, XP 820

Their touch is infectious exactly as the Plague-Dead above.
Miasma - The entire area around a plague pit horde is infected. Anyone within 30' must save vs. paralyzation every 2nd round (every single round when breathing hard - running, combat, etc) or begin to choke & cough on the noisome air: -2 to attack rolls AC and saves, stealth is impossible. 1d6 rounds after leaving the miasma it wears off, but make a final save with a +2 modifier. If you fail, contract the black plague as above.

These creatures make the tunnels and crypts beneath Londinium extremely hazardous. Many adventurers have returned to civilization laden with Roman coins and grave goods only to perish a few days later, coughing colours. A few enterprising grifters have begun selling miracle-cures for the malady (which they call Orcus' Revenge) outside Verulamium - needless to say their effectiveness is limited.


*****

These Brits need no introduction around here:




Sunday, February 24, 2013

my "Appendix N"...

since young times
(the one you can't see because of glare is Monmouth's History of the Kings of Britain)
I don't know why I never thought of putting all these together before.