Thursday, May 24, 2018

Those GOD-DAMN Bird People in Scarabae

I was able to play one final session in Tales of the Grotesque and Dungeonesque's online Scarabae campaign last year.

After this game, I picked up a new shift at work, which prevented me from playing anymore online games during the Scarabae timeslot. Also sometime after this game, the referee, Jack, renamed Scarabae "Umberwell", and he's been posting a lot of new ideas and hosting a lot of new games in the renamed city.

I harbor some hope that I'll get a chance to venture back to the weird city of Umberwell-Scarabae in the future, but for now, this post is a swansong.



At the end of Travita's previous adventure in Scarabae, Yuriko, the adopted daughter of her tiefling "odd jobs" broker Koska, was kidnapped by anti-city cultists called the Children of Fimbul.

Traviata may have been experiencing a bit of an identity crisis over her previous failures to sufficiently punish "the guilty" (basically, other, more successful artists) but the other half of her life's mission was to protect "the innocent" (herself, and other people who remind her of herself) - and Koska's daughter Yuriko certainly qualified! So together with her previous companions, Khajj the minotaur cleric, Crumb the kenku artificer, and Viktor the dragonborn sorcerer, and a new ally, Dr Aleister Whiffle the human fighter, Traviata boarded a steamship bound for Zarubad, the trading port nearest the jungle where the Children of Fimbul are believed to be holed up with Yuriko.

Zarubad proved to be quite different from the close, dark, dirty streets of Scarabae. Traviata had passed from a city where it seemed to always be night (or at least draped in impenetrable fog) to a city bathed in sunlight, the hot glow like being fixed in the opera's limelight, the wide streets a crowded riot of colored fabrics and flowers, the air thick with the scent of spices and sweating bodies.

In an attempt to get at much free swag as possible of Koska's dime prepare for their upcoming expedition into the jungle, the group split up in the market and began shopping and listening for rumors. The jungles south of Zarubad were supposedly full of biting insects spreading a disease called "monkey fever" so Khajj and Aleister bough gourds full of liquid insect repellent, and Traviata, retaining her sense of civility, purchased cones of incense she was certain would keep her safe. Crumb heard rumors of an undead paladin haunting the jungle, once charged with defending his god's temple, but cursed after abandoning his duty. Traviata heard about an ancient lost city somewhere in a basin or crater, allegedly filled with magic, which she thought would be a likely hiding spot for the Children of Fimbul, if they could find it.

Unfortunately, no matter how many maps they bought, every drawing seemed to disagree with all the others. The local guides likewise had nothing but ill-words for one another, so the group hired the most self-promoting specimen, a young woman named Salome, who was only too happy to tell them that all the other guards were frauds, charlatans, and thieves out to rob them of their wages. Traviata took an instant liking to the young woman and trusted her implicitly. On Salome's advice, they finished shopping by buying a canoe, a barrel of water, tents and mosquito netting, and a few other camping supplies, and finally set out into the jungle.



Collectively, the group decided to take the western branch of the river that led into the jungle. It was rumored to go deeper than its twin, and Salome claimed that it led all the way to a depression where lobster people lived. Traviata thought this "depression" sounded an awful lot like the "basin" she knew they should be headed towards, so it was decided. In less than a day on the water, they passed into the jungle itself, and as they did, the sky went dark from the canopy overhead, and the air filled with the sounds of frogs, insects, monkeys. On the third day, Khajj and Traviata both had good luck while fishing, supplementing their dry (though spicy and flavorful) rations.

On the sixth day down the river, they found a clearing that looked like an abandoned campsite. They found evidence of recent digging and dug it back up, finding a cache containing folded wooden tables and chairs, perhaps left by someone planning to return later. On the seventh day they found a more permanent campsite ... or rather, they found the remains of a more permanent campsite, since the place had been burned to the ground, with nothing but the scorched shells of cabins and long-buildings remaining. They were about to return to their canoes when Khajj spotted a statue he was sure had religious significance - a giant image of a man carrying a crocodile on his back. He was intrigued, but when he asked Salome, she knew nothing about either campsite, and had never heard of such a statue or image before, and Khajj felt the first tremors of misgiving pass through his heart. Searching the campsite further revealed no clues, only that whoever burned the place also seemed to have broken and wrecked everything that wasn't consumed by the fire, except for a tarot card depicting Strength, found in the mess hall.

Khajj's mighty heart fluttered again, and he remembered a human parable that might make sense of the statue. The first man who stood on a riverbank spoke to the first crocodile to come up onto the land. The two made an agreement with each other, that each would carry the other in times of danger. The crocodile began by carrying the man across the river, then climbed aboard the man's shoulders where it remained for the rest of his life, leaving the man feeling burdened and deceived. Salome said she'd never heard that story before, and Traviata too felt the first whispers of doubt begin to tickle her ears.

The statue had a doorway with stairs leading downward built into its base, and the group decided to investigate. They arrived in a long hall, and though Viktor's lizard eyes could spot a door at the far end, his spell to create a magical hand couldn't reach it. Mighty Khajj led the group through the darkened hall, and his canny senses noticed a pit trap in the center of the floor, and, after the group had sidled around that, the trigger for some other trap just ahead. Crumb was able to trigger the trap from a distance, releasing a huge scything blade that swept across the hall, and then ran forward and spiked the trapdoor shut. Finally close enough, they asked Viktor to open the far door with his mage hand, although just as he did, everyone but Salome experienced a kind of premonition and fell to the floor to take cover. As the door opened, Salome was thrown backward down the hall, as though by the shockwave from a silent, invisible explosion. Inside the door they found a spiral staircase leading up into the statue itself, with the skeleton of a giant lizard or crocodile scattered around the foot of the stairs. Aleister felt very worried that the bones might somehow reanimate, but Triavata thought that the skull would make an excellent crown and put it on. (A lot of my characters end up doing things like this. It might be my fondness for hats.)

To ease Aleister's mind Viktor cast a spell to sense magic and examined the bones. They were ordinary, but when he looked at the staircase, he noticed that several of the steps were somehow enchanted, and marked them out by drawing on the steps immediately before and after each one. They made their way safely to the top, where they found a large globular jug hanging from the wall by a strap. Guessing it might be important, Traviata tried to identify the object, but Victor simply pulled it down, in a hurry to return to safety outside. Somehow the jug had been weighing down the lever it had been hung from like a coat peg, and when it was removed, the lever popped up, and the entire structure began to collapse. Even the statue itself seemed to rain down upon them. Crumb, Traviata, and Salome were all nearly crushed, but Khajj rescued Traviata and hearty Salome somehow stayed on her feet and managed to pull Crumb's body to safety. Aleister and Viktor clung together, limped out side-by-side. Outside in the wreckage, Khajj and Aleister administered aid to Crumb and Traviata, saving them from death. Finally safe, the group made camp for the night on the shore.

In the morning, Traviata fully examined the clay vessel and found it to be an alchemical jug, an enchanted object capable of generating gallons of fresh water and other liquids. Before leaving, the group made a final sweep of the campsite. Khajj found and tamed a baby bird that was being kept in a pen by the remains of the barracks. Salome had never seen a bird like it before, but Aleister was able to match it to a drawing from the guidebook he bought in Zarubad - it was an axe-beak, a fearsome jungle predator. Khajj seemed quite pleased to have a new pet. Viktor meanwhile decided for some reason to enchant a pebble to make light, then threw it down the military latrine. Surprisingly, he found a human body down there, a solider wearing scale armor and carrying a warhammer. Crumb climbed down into the horrible pit and retrieved the soldier's belt pouch, which contained five small gemstones. After bathing in the river, he was allowed back in the canoe, and the group continued downstream. For the rest of that day, and four more days after, they continued down the river, eating fresh fish, drinking fresh alchemically-treated water, and hearing distant roaring sounds like some animal loud as thunder, growing closer the further they went downstream.



On the evening of the thirteenth day, the river ran out, widening out to a mudflat and disappearing down a sinkhole, perhaps continuing somewhere far underground. The group left their boat by the "shore" and approached a plateau that stood over the jungle in this spot. Salome claimed success and bragged that she had successfully led them to the "depression" she'd told them about, brushing off all questions about the lobster people who were supposed to live there. Traviata wondered if the plateau could really be the lip of some great crater, and if so, if it could be the "basin" that held the lost city she still suspected the Children of Fimbul were using as their jungle hideaway, the place they were keeping poor Koska's kidnapped daughter, Yuriko.

Viktor led the way, using his magical slippers to walk up the wall as easily as he walked across the ground. As he strolled up the cliff-face, he saw a boulder, practically a whole island made of stone, floating in the air above the jungle far too high up for any method of approach the group currently had on-hand. He passed carvings of winged lizards and curling flames. Eventually, he reached a landing and threw down a rope to his friends, inspecting the rotted remains of a wooden door set directly into the wall of the plateau. After his friends joined him, Viktor used his mage hand to push the last remnants of the door out of the way, when he heard a frail woman's voice call out from inside: "Hello? Who's there?" An impossibly old-looking woman toddled out of the doorway, short, stooped over, wrinkled and wizened with age.

Viktor tried engaging the woman in conversation, with mixed results. "Victor? Are you the Victor who brings the bread? No one has brought me bread in a long time." Eventually he learned that the woman, who insisted on being called "Nanny" was especially perturbed by a group of "those GOD-DAMN bird people" who, she claims, keep breaking into her home and stealing her things. She gives Crumb a long, evil look until Viktor is able to regain her attention.

Noticing that "Nanny" keeps grumbling about how things are "not like they were in the OLD days," Viktor tries asking her what the old days were like. "Oh, you mean the OLD days? You mean before those GOD-DAMN bird people came around and started ruining everything?" Yes, those old days. It emerged that in the old days, Nanny was a bit of a literal hell-raiser, dancing naked in the woods, summoning demons from the Pit, and performing other bits of black magic just for the fun of it. "Not like these punk kids these days, no respect, and not like those GOD-DAMN bird people neither!" Traviata asked if Nanny could use some of her black magic to cast a spell to locate a lost child. Nanny readily agreed, but it quickly became clear that she thought they were finding the child so that they could put together a good, wholesome, old-fashioned human sacrifice. Aghast, Viktor tried a different tactic, and asked the easily-distractable old woman if she could help them find some people who'd moved into the area recently, some people who were practicing dark magic, but doing it like a bunch of PUNKS and AMATEURS, not the RIGHT way, not like Nanny and her friends used to do it in the OLD days. Nanny (again) readily agreed, and wandered back inside to cast her spell. Khajj wanted to sneak away immediately as soon as the woman was out of sight, but the others persuaded him to stay and hear her out.

(Now, Traviata is a smart woman, but she's not very emotionally complex. She has two goals in life, feels like she hasn't been doing enough to accomplish one of them, and then finds herself face-to-face with an actual honest-to-goodness wicked witch who lives in the forest and wants to cook a child in her oven. It shouldn't be a surprise what happens next. And - if you think more carefully about the tropes of D&D than I was at the time - it also shouldn't be a surprise how that works out for her. I WAS surprised, but you shouldn't be.)

While the group waited, Vikor used his magic shoes to walk around the perimeter of the plateau, and saw the wreck of a sailing ship, looking to all the world like it was fresh out of the ocean, lying broken atop the jungle canopy. He returned just around the same time Nanny was finishing up her hour-long spellcasting ritual. She emerged carrying a hand-drawn map that called for them to backtrack several days back up the river (Khajj shot Salome a withering look) and would have them end up near the shipwreck Victor saw. "Now you want to avoid this spot here, here, and here ... that's where those GOD-DAMN bird people make their filthy nests ..." She started mumbling again until Viktor assured her they'd use the map to get revenge on the AMATEURS for her. "Yeah, really show 'em what black magic should look like! Now in my day, in the OLD days, we would have skinned them alive before roasting them on the..." Again, she began to ramble at some length before Viktor cut her off again. "Victor? Oh Victor! Oh are you the one who brings the bread?" At this point it was Traviata who cut her off, play-acting at feeling happy and offering her a celebratory drink to her health. Despite seemingly having her fill of all the scenery she could chew, Nanny happily accepted the beverage and quaffed it in one gulp.

What Nanny actually drank was magical, alchemical poison, which would have killed a lesser being, but mostly just seemed to make her angry! She immediately slashed Traviata with her fingernails, nearly killing the poor singer. Nearly everyone else attacked Nanny with their guns or spells, and all of them bounced off her iron-hard hide, although Salome managed to cut Nanny with her scimitar, drawing first blood from the old crone. Nanny retaliated by slashing Salome, again, nearly murdering the woman with one stroke. Nanny continued to shrug off almost everything the group could throw at her, though Aleister's magical singing spear was able to pierce her flesh as well, as Nanny continued to savage Salome, who at this point was only kept alive by Khajj's quick thinking and magical healing touch. Finally, at the end, Aleister managed to pin her down with his singing spear, Crumb used his magical firearm to put an enchanted bullet into her, and Salome, whirling around like a pirouetting ballerina, swung wide her scimitar and lopped Nanny's head clean off, ending the fight.


That was the end of the night, and as I said, I never made it back to find out how the adventure ended, although in fairness, I don't think Jack ever made it back to this particular plotline either. After the new year, he changed the city's name and began running a slightly different sort of campaign there. When Traviata next sets foot in Scarabae-Umberwell, it will be a far different place than she remembers. I imagine her stepping off a boat on the docks, her memories of Zarubad already fading, unable to remember why she ever left the dank and gloom of her home, to rediscover anew what weird delights await her in the remade Umberwell.

Monday, May 21, 2018

New Chart-Topping Songs in Scarabae

My character has a new hit single!


From the album's liner notes:
Jeremiad Street Asylum, by Traviata Maru. A tragic opera aria about a woman who visits her lover in a madhouse after he has been exposed to an unspeakable horror from the Far Realm.

This is an exciting time for Traviata!

The song is clearly based on her visit to the Heigelman Clinic, and the horrors she beheld there.

Next time you find yourself in Umberwell or Scarabae, but sure to pick up a copy on wax cylinder!

Friday, May 18, 2018

Book Cover Trends - Just One Letter

V by Thomas Pynchon, 1963
Z by Vassilis Vassilikos, 1966
G by John Berger, 1972
C by Anthony Cave Brown, 1988
S by John Updike, 1988
H by Elizabeth Shepard, 1995
Q by Paul Nigro, 2003
Q by Luther Blissett, 2004
Z by Michael Thomas Ford, 2010
C by Tom McCarthy, 2011
Q by Evan Madery, 2011
F by Franz Wright, 2011
H by Jim Elledge, 2012
Y by Marjorie Celona, 2012
 
Z by Therese Anne Fowler, 2013
HHhH by Laurent Binet, 2013
S by JJ Abrams and Doug Dorst, 2013
F by Daniel Kehlmann, 2014
J by Howard Jacobson, 2014
X by Ilyasah Shabazz, 2015

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Session Report - Descend into Brimstone - 13 May 2018

Characters
Louis Black (politician, 1st level Warrior)
played by Petra

Archibald (innkeeper)
Luther (factory hand)
Daniel (plumber)
Meriwether (infantryman)
played by American John

Detective Guillermo "the Bull" (man-at-arms)
Officer Benicio "the Bull" (man-at-arms)
Officer Shia "the Beef" (man-at-arms)
NPC allies

Session 2
Louis Black and his friends enjoyed some very short-lived fame after their expedition down into the Brimstone Mine, but they were bumped out of the limelight by some city-slicker Freemason architects from back east. That trio - Balthazar, Melchior, and Abendego - seemed like they were all over town, buying rounds for the house, and crowing about their great architectural discoveries down the Maw. For a week now, all anyone's wanted to talk about is those three hotshots and their fancy-dancy statuette of some blackstone lady from some ancient build site.

Well sir, Louis Black had heard just about enough about those three to last him a lifetime, when some newcomers approached him, said they still remembered his expedition, and wanted to know if he could apprentice them. Immediately taking a liking to the four deferential sorts, Louis was happy to regale them with some tales of his own before they headed over to the Gallows to purchase tickets down the Maw. Unfortunately for them, they all had a round of free beers pressed into their hands and had to listen to a rousing chorus of "He's a Jolly Good Fellow" before they managed to get onto the elevator to head down the shaft.

The group decided to try a different path than last time, heading northeast. They found comfortable passage through large mining tunnels, crossed an underground stream, and were stopped in their tracks by a 20' wide chasm. Just as they were turning around to double-back and find a new path, the low clicking and chittering that filled the air throughout the mines took on a new level of urgency, and they found themselves facing a giant ant with the chasm at their backs.

Louis drew his cavalry saber and commanded the others: "Charge!" Meriwether gave a quick salute before turning his rifle on the ant, and Archibald joined him with his pistol, although both shots hit the ground between the insect's legs. Daniel and Luther surged forward and bopped the critter on the head with their wrenches, but the durn ant turned and took a bit out of Luther's chest, putting an early end to him. Louis sensed impending disaster and surged forward, drawing his elephant gun, and planting his foot on fallen Luther's back before shooting a round down the ant's gullet, practically exploding it from the inside. Archibald and Daniel quickly relieved Luther's body of its valuables. Daniel took a second to compare Luther's little hand-wrench to his own oversized monkey-wrench before deciding to keep his original tool and tuck Luther's into his belt-loop. Louis congratulated the others, "You boys are learning from the best!" before giving loyal Meriwether a clap on the back. As they were leaving, Meriwether spotted a 100 peso-bill stuck to one of the ant's feet, and handed it over to Louis, whom he instinctively trusted as a superior officer.

Continuing northeast, they followed the stream into an area of large man-made corridors. Their passage north continued to be blocked by a chasm, although it narrowed to only 10' wide. Archibald asked if Louis had brought any rope, and upon learning that he hadn't, felt his esteem for the politician's supposed adventuring prowess diminish somewhat. They followed the stream to its source, bubbling up out of the ground, and found a lost donkey wearing a blood-stained serape draped over its back. They decided to adopt the tame beast, and it followed docilely behind them.

Turning south, they found huge natural tunnels, towering 20' over their heads. Exploring this expansive place, they came upon another donkey wearing the same style of serape. The two were apparently a pair, as they sidled up next to each other and began sniffing each other's manes. Daniel petted the new creature, and found more money under the blanket (another hundred pesos, in 20 peso-bills this time) along with a fist-sized nugget of demon ore. He took custody of them for the group. After another hour of searching though, they realized there was no way out of this section, and so returned back to the area of tiled corridors before continuing northeast.

Here they moved into an area of medium natural tunnels, and found three badly lost Mexican police officers - Detective Guillermo "the Bull", Officer Benicio "the Bull", and Officer Shia "the Beef". The police explained that they've been dispatched by the Mexican government, pursuing a pair of sisters - Salma and Penelope - who were devoted acolytes of the demon queen Hezzemuth, and had been convicted of multiple murders down south. Guillermo said that there were rumors of Hezzemuth sightings in the region of Brimstone, and that they came down into the mine hoping to find the demon's shrine, along with the murderous sisters. Things went very wrong though, and the police thanked the adventurers for the rescue. The two donkeys nuzzled into their owners, as relieved as the police to be reunited with them. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief that he'd already hidden the cash and ore before returning the donkey. Louis offered the group's help to gather intelligence and lead another search into the mine, if Guillermo could provide funding. Guillermo agreed, and said he was certain he could convince the Mexican consulate to wire him the money as soon as he could get to a telegraph office. A handshake later, and all eight men made it back to the surface where they temporarily parted ways.

Louis Black was very excited to have new allies.

Following a hunch, the group decided to actually listen to some of the rumors swirling around the local celebrity Freemasons. Archibald's prior occupation as an innkeeper guided him to find the best eavesdropping spots, and the group managed to plant a few leading questions so that someone else in the crowd was heard to ask them. They noticed that the statuette the three had been showing off depicted a cruel woman with the lower body of an ant, matching Guillermo's description of the so-called "pain mistress" Hezzemuth. Listening further, they learned that the architects were calling their discovery "the shrine of an ancient religion," and that it was somewhere in the northwest quadrant of the first level of the mine. What's more, the three claimed that the shrine held some kind of sulfur spring that acted as a portal to another world.

Feeling confident that they were on the right track, the group sold their pesos to the town money-changer, getting $20 American for their troubles. They used the cash to buy rope and a tent, and reconnected with Guillermo, who offered them $5 per person per day of their trip. They agreed, and Guillermo paid everyone's fares back down the Maw. In the spirit of being more prepared this time around, Louis also took along the contents of the mysterious oil-cloth-wrapped package he found last time - two bronze cat-faced gauntlets that seemed to hum and sing like tuning forks.

The group decided to start by going due north, entering an area with medium natural tunnels, two streams merging into one, and an old mine entrance. One branch of the stream came from the east,  from the area they'd explored the week before, and the combined streams flowed back to the west in the direction Louis and his other friends had been three weeks ago on their first expedition. They hoped to follow the water's other branch upstream by continuing north, but found that the tunnels narrowed so much they'd be crawling on their hands and knees, and Joseph and Maria (the donkeys) would never fit. Daniel volunteered to crawl ahead while the others waited for him.

Daniel discovered a waterfall that appeared to be the stream's source in this area. Unfortunately, he also discovered that there were no other passages out of the narrow tunnels, except back the way he came in. When Daniel emerged with this bad news, everyone else noticed that he was coated in some kind of purple dust. When he tried brushing himself off, he inhaled some of whatever it was, felt malign magical energies coursing through him, and promptly passed out. They placed Daniel over the back of Joseph the donkey, and pressed on to the northwest.

Continuing on the path to the mysterious shrine, the group continued through more medium natural tunnels, but felt weighed down by extra gravity, as Louis had once before. They knew that traveling through this region would exhaust them, and they'd need to make camp for the night soon. Unfortunately, they never got the chance. Again the ambient clattering and clicking rose to a fever pitch, and the group was beset by four giant ants and a giant grasshopper. The excitement was enough to wake Daniel.

An ugly, vicious combat followed. Archibald started by shooting the grasshopper, and Daniel sicced his pet baby alligator on it, and the alligator tore one of its legs off. The smell of insect blood must have driven the ants into a frenzy, because one tore into the grasshopper and killed it, and another shredded Officer Benicio "the Bull". Louis acquitted himself admirably with the elephant gun, obliterating his second giant ant with a single shot before being bitten twice while shielding the others from attack with his body. Guillermo and Shia worked together to kill another of the massive insects, and Daniel and Archibald followed their example, using teamwork to put a third ant in the ground.

And then things went wrong... Louis said the magic word - "myow myow" - to use his cat gauntlets, but only managed to send a visible wave of sound bouncing off the ceiling, sounding a musical note that reverberated for the rest of the fight. Guillermo missed his shot and killed Daniel. Poor Meriwether, perhaps still suffering from a head injury he got in his soldiering days, continued his string of missed shots, but this bullet went wide and killed Officer Shia "the Beef". Archibald finally ended the fiasco by taking up Daniel's massive pipe wrench and clubbing the final ant to death.

The only good fortune to emerge from the fight was that both sides recognized that the shootings were accidental, and neither made war on the other. Guillermo wept for his colleagues, and Archibald and Meriwether helped him tied their bodies to the backs of the two donkeys. Everyone agreed they should return to the surface, and the friends chose to leave Daniel's body behind, although Archibald brought the baby alligator back up into town. With his heart heavy and his morale failing, Guillermo declared that he would return to Mexico by rail to bury his friends. He paid Louis $5 American as promised, and gave Meriwether and Archibald each $10 for their help. He wrote Louis a letter of introduction that could be shown to any other police or Mexican officials, and gave him the information needed to contact the Mexican embassy by telegram. Hen then departed for his hotel, and presumably, the train station. Louis considered Archibald and Meriwether to be full-fledged members of his group now, and brought them round to the rented cabin, which after a week of recovery time would still have a month's rent prepaid.

The cat gauntlets look like this. I really do insist that the player really says "myow myow" out loud to use them.

Gains
200 Mexican pesos (sold for $20)
a nugget of demon ore
$25 pay from the Mexican government
a letter of introduction from Detective Guillermo "the Bull"

Losses
Luther (killed by giant ant)
Daniel (killed by friendly fire)
Office Benicio (killed by giant ant)
Officer Shia (killed by friendly fire)
Detective Guillermo (retired)

XP
flat 10 XP each for Meriwether and Archibald for a successful zero-level expedition

1 XP for single ant encounter
1 XP for rescuing donkeys
3 XP for rescuing Mexican police and negotiation alliance
1 XP for intelligence gathering
3 XP for multi-ant and grasshopper encounter
7 XP for exploring seven new hexes (including Daniel's scouting trip)
Total: 16 XP for Louis

Running graveyard (and session of demise)
Officer Shia "the Beef" the NPC Mexian police-officer (2), Daniel the plumber (2), Officer Benicio "the Bull" the NPC Mexican police-officer (2), Luther the factory-hand (2), Jed the miner (1), Henry the huckster (1), Lilly the clerk (1), Bill the livery-stabler (1), Harry the butcher (1), Rusty the auctioneer (1)

Postmortem
I've been using Dreams in the Lich House's campaign events for his Black City campaign to generate ideas for what's happening in town outside of events the players set in motion. Last time I got "Whirlpool", which is supposed to be a navigational hazard that prevents new ships from coming to the trading island that houses the Black City ... but it occurred to me that it the removal of a navigational hazard (the railroad worker's strike) would mark a pretty good beginning to the campaign. This week I got "Bragging Rights", which means that an NPC adventuring party got deeper into the site and becomes a rival. I previously discovered that there were a group of three Freemason architects who'd been into the Maw, so I figured they would make a good set of rivals, and that their bragging would create a clue that the players could choose to follow-up on to find a Demon Shrine.

The way that I discovered the Freemasons is that I generated a couple of minidungeons to place in level 1. The "Features" table that I have the players roll twice each mini-hex has "Point of Interest" and "Demon Shrine" as two possible outcomes, so I decided to generate one of each to have on-hand. My original plan was to simply let them show up wherever the dice decided - but when the campaign event demanded that someone found one of them, I picked which one, and rolled a random hex number as its location. I used Kabuki Kaiser's Ruins of the Undercity to generate the Point of Interest, which I decided will be a giant ant colony (as described in the DCC Core Rules in the giant ant monster entry). I used Kabuki Kaiser's Mad Monks of Kwantoom to generate the Demon Shrine. My random generation of the Shrine using the Black Powder Black Magic rules suggested that there would be two factions present ("doing what?" you may ask - stay tuned!) and one of them is the Freemasons. After the players find the ant colony (even if they don't explore it fully) I may generate a second Point of Interest for the first level just in case. I'm certain that I didn't use Ruins of the Undercity exactly correctly. I usually forgot to check if a corridor would flow out of a door or run perpendicular to it, for example. It was a fairly quick way to get a layout I'd never have drawn on my own though, and although I modified the contents from the book's recommendations (in part to fit a different setting) it did work to spur on my own creativity, while adding features I wouldn't have placed left to my own devices.

One of my goals in running this campaign is to have something relatively low-prep on my part and low-commitment for the players. Essentially it's an occasional pick-up game for whenever my regular Sunday group can't meet. Using Carl's BPBM rules straight out of the zine, using Kabuki Kaiser's minidungeon generators rather than planning and drawing my own maps, it's all in service of the goal of maximizing potentiality and discovery at the table while minimizing everyone's investment of time outside the sessions themselves.

One thing I've noticed is that Carl and Eric must have changed their minds between vol 1 and vol 4 of Black Powder Black Magic, because the prices go from a likely dollar-standard to a likely dime- or penny-standard. Louis Black's elephant gun would have been out of reach using vol 1's prices, but I've decided to use vol 4 prices, since the list is much more comprehensive. The treasures they're finding seem appropriate to the new price list, especially since they keep finding things that they can exchange for only a fraction of their nominal value. 

For the most part, the procedural generation of the hexes has been going well, although I've noticed a couple things I would change if I were writing something like this myself. The tunnel types and diameters don't feel like they add much, with the exception of the ones so small they force you to crawl through. This is essentially the "terrain type" of each hex, but I remember as a player barely noticing this information, while as a referee I feel obligated to record it, even though it doesn't seem to matter a whole lot. I'm also, personally, not that fond of the two gravitational anomaly entries on the "Features" list. To me, they feel like part of the wrong genre. Features that reduce or increase the movement cost of passing though a hex seem like a good idea, but I feel like it would be more appropriate (at least in the upper levels of the dungeon) to have something like "very direct pathways" to reduce the costs and "very winding passages" or "very rough terrain" to increase it. The giant ants are also quite a formidable opponent for zero- and 1st-level characters. So far, they've only met 1 HD worker ants and not poisonous 3 HD soldier ants, but they've also met giant grasshoppers and giant centipedes, and those are both 3 HD. The ants also have a high armor class which makes it very hard for them to get a hit in, making combat longer, and thus deadlier, than it would otherwise be. The final issue I'm not sure how to handle at the moment is the demon ore. The rules give it a dollar value, and suggest that it can be used to manufacture magic items or fuel spellburn. When I played in his campaign, Carl didn't do that though. Instead, he made it possible to trade the ore with members of the spirit world, typically facilitated by a human broker, which meant completing a quest and getting a magic item in return. Since my players have found some ore now, I'll have to decide which approach I want to take.

By the luck of the dice, Louis Black turned out to be an expert marksman with that elephant gun, while Meriwether couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. It was gratifying to see that Louis could survive several ant-bites, when every zero-level so far has succumbed on the first hit. Like Blaze the servant from last time, Meriwether's been portrayed as very deferential, so I suspect he won't level up right away. Archibald was pretty handy. He seems perhaps a little thief-like to me, but we'll see. Daniel was brave and daring, and like so many favored zero-levels he met an early demise. I've noticed that the zero-level character you like most almost always dies in the funnel because you use them, and you end up leveling up someone you barely thought about until they were your sole survivor. I've tried to mitigate that problem a little by declaring that the monsters attack one of a player's characters, but then letting the player decide who's endangered and who stays safe and alive. We may not have heard the last of the Mexican government (or even the last of Guillermo) although I haven't yet decided how I'll know when another representative comes to join the hunt for Salma and Penelope. The next random campaign event may provide me a clue, or the players may take it into their own hands if they decide to telegram the embassy to offer their services and ask for back-up.

Sunday, May 6, 2018

Additional Ideas for Adventuring in the Deep Past

Since the last time I posted about it, the GLOG-o-sphere's collective dive into the deep past has continued.

Journey Into The Weird took a journey into the past, actually posting before my own previous entry, but escaping my attention until now.

"3. Archihylo Epoch, aka the Fae Invasion: Skarazi detect an infection of Fae on Elsai. Measures are taken to quarantine the infection. Glass domes encircle spreading forests to stop ensuing oxygenation. Quarantine is successful, but ecological changes make the planet unsuitable for Skarazi life. A majority leave Elsai behind and abandon SG8 to disappear behind the stars. A small majority dig in in more arid regions of Elsai, or on SG8 itself."

Coins & Scrolls followed up his original, more serious post about the historical past of his campaign world with a humorous look at three-dozen hypothetical past ages. These are all gold, right from the very start.

"39. Plantagenetic Period: Basic principles of royalty discovered. Kings of bacteria, kings of slime, kings of trees, kings of fish and fowl. Metalosynthetic bacteria learn to produce gold crowns, form valuable layers of quick-dying rulers and usurpers. Iconography still visible under a microscope. Most hereditary lines trace their origin to this period. A catastrophic series of succession wars left only the lion (king of beasts) and some insect-based royal lines intact."

"40. The Pseudopredatory Collapse: Mass extinction caused by the discovery that several apex predators were, in fact, cardboard cut-outs and plaster models. Arms race to claim the spots turns several innocuous species into vicious killers. Umber hulks evolve, smash the competition. Treaty of Mud, signed by most creatures (with eels and flatworms abstaining) bans vorpal claws, forces an unease peace. Parasite-spies steal evolutionary advantages and sell them to the highest bidder. Ends due to general exhaustion."

(See what I mean about these being gold? If Skerples were to collect these into a zine with illustrations depicting even a fraction of the entries, I'd pick it up in a heartbeat.)

The Amateur Dungeoneers joined in with a pair of weird pasts.

"1. The Great Funkadelican Era: Colors didn't always work entirely how we think they did. Before the era of humans, the land was dominated by civilizations of insect and crustaceans which could see a myriad colors. However as they grew more advanced as a civilization they saw fit to first categorize all colors and later to impose their own vision of beauty based on their peculiar color theory which only made sense to their alien eyes. Using great magic or science they began the 'great color mixture', combining colors which were never meant to be combine and which our puny minds and eyes cannot even begin to grasp. For a brief time the world was a technicolor funky mess to our primitive and distant ancestors but then the bug-crustaceans mixed colors which should have never been mixed, destroying the vast majority of colors in the process leaving us with those we know and a few survivors beyond our senses such as Jale, Ulfire and Dolm. And man, did that era look funky. Sadly the only ones who remember it are the mantis shrimp who still fly the colors of this bygone world."

Iron & Ink also posted the epochs leading up to the present day of his campaign world.

"4. The Clonocene Epoch: Photosynthetic life achieves stable form and explodes across the planet. Intelligent motile trees eventually prove to be the dominant life form, draining swathes of nutrients from the soil and leaving parched desert in their wake as they slowly drag themselves across the surface. The largest scrape the upper atmosphere and turn their attention to the sun, which they identify as the source of all life. In an effort to increase their uptake of solar energy they devise a plan to move the planet closer to the sun. This has predictably terrible results for all involved."

"Geological Layer: The Osteoradix. A twisting network of gargantuan petrified root systems. Internal parasites and fungi have adapted to their ossuary environment. A preferred hideout of liches. Lost undead creatures trudge through endless tunnels."

"Extinction Event: The Conflagration. Do not move your planet closer to the sun, especially if you are made of wood. Massive firestorms consume virtually all atmospheric oxygen. Life is virtually wiped clean and huge ash clouds lead to an extreme drop in global temperatures."

Most recently (by my count) Profane Ape continued the trend with more fantastical pasts.

"2. Dustball Earth: A slight slowing in the planet’s rotation caused by an approaching planetoid increased average wind speed while debris from said approach burned away most vegetation, leading to runaway erosion that eventually grinds the tops of continents down to mostly featureless dune deserts. The seas rise but become shallower overall as sand from the continents covers the sea floors and the displaced water spreads out over former landmasses. Continental dust storms rack the dusty continents, while ocean currents kick up silt storms in the brown waters. All the producers are kelp or really shitty palm trees that grow in the occasional equally shitty oasis. Competition between remaining animals elevates to heights of ludicrous cruelty. Fucking miserable."


In different ways, these parables remind me of Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories, Italo Calvino's Cosmicomics, StanisÅ‚aw Lem's Cyberiad, Alan Lightman's Mr g.

The structure of any description of a fantastical past era is like a short-story or fable or morality play. We start briefly in an even earlier era, a time that sounds foreign and perhaps immoral. Somehow, our hero, a lowly and forgotten lifeform, is chosen for greatness, picked out as though by a fairy godmother, ascending to dominance as through hard work and determination. As it reaches new plateaus, it also changes, and forgets where it came from. Like a tragic hero from Greek myth, it retains a single flaw from its earliest days, some problem within itself that it never notices or corrects. In its arrogance, in its hubris, it overreaches. At the very height of its success, its flaw destroys it, and brings the entire world crashing down around it. The end of each story is the beginning of another, as another new lowly creature rises like a phoenix from the ashes of the world before.

Since my last post, I've had a few more ideas for incorporating multiple fantastical past eras into a campaign.

(9) Ancient kingdoms. My favorite idea involves using fantasy pasts to populate a hexcrawl. Each ancient epochal kingdom reigns over a small number of hexes, say something in the 2 to 6 range. (Use whatever method you like to generate this map, at whatever level of detail suits you. Use Coins & Scrolls' ideas for medieval mapping, if you like, at the county, barony, or local levels.)

Within its borders, it possesses a suitable biome, and the local ecosystem is whatever the fantasy past decrees, no matter how implausible. These are petty kingdoms, their time is past, almost nothing inside can survive outside the borders, and the local dissidents often have allies with the rulers of one kingdom over. So too are these shabby kingdoms. They are past the height of their power, already in decline, already suffering the beginnings of whatever fate wiped them out in the rest of the world.

This idea came to me thinking of how some of these fantasy pasts reminded me of China Mieville's The Scar, where one character hails from a land ruled by the undead, where humans hold a status somewhere between peasantry and cattle, and where the story's journey takes them all to an island that holds the last remnant of a nightmarish Anopheles Empire, ruled over by a class of super-high-tech mosquito people.

If I were to run this campaign, every kingdom would be a little feudal Ruritania, dressed up in nebulous nineteenth century European attire, full of corrupt politicians, scheming courtiers, venal merchants, and just enough young, pure-hearted souls trying to make better lives for themselves that you feel some tension between the competing desires to rob the place blind, help the people who deserve it, and burn the whole mess to the ground.

(10) Lost worlds. In a modern-ish setting, pieces of the evolutionary past might survive as "lost worlds," in underground caves, mountain valleys, and other isolated and out-of-the-way places, ancient prehistoric life still thrives. The whole genre of "lost world" fiction started with people imagining there might be hidden places where dinosaurs still survived into the present. We can do them one weirder by populating the earth with dozens of "lost worlds," each the remnant of a different fantastical past.

(11) Distant islands (or, The Voyage of The Time Beagle). In whatever kind of boat you choose, you and your adventuring party are sailing the sea, finding islands with weird ancient island ecologies. This idea isn't necessarily so different from "lost worlds," but its less tied to early 20th-century pulp as its genre. You could as easily be Greek Argonauts as you could Darwinian naturalists or tough guys in the tradition of Burroughs and Verne. The act of random exploration of innumerable islands by boat also feels quite different than chartering a private plane to fly directly to one of a dozen or so locations.


In many ways, Earth's actual past is nearly as fantastical as anything the GLOG-bloggers have come up with.

Consider the Oxygen Crisis. For a long time, life on Earth consisted of extremophile organisms who took in energy from their environment in the form of high temperatures, caustic acidity, toxic alkaline, overwhelming salinity. Each organism had a highly specialized metabolism, they "ate" dissolved minerals and the energy that comes from sitting in a steep gradient, the two poles of their unicellular bodies acting like living batteries, cathode connected to anode, and the current running through them, powering all their cellular processes. By virtue of their diets, each organism lived in a small, highly specialized ecology, surrounded by neighbors who each ate "food" the others couldn't stomach, who each thrived under conditions that would kill any nearby species. In tiny, highly adapted communities, life flourished. (Until it didn't of course. If local conditions changed, if local food sources ran out, the species who depended on them would die, unable to pass through any surrounding environment without being killed by it, unable to travel long enough to reach another suitable food source without starving first.)

Then one organism found a new diet, a new way to be an auto-trophe. Instead of being a geo-trophe, it would be a helio-trophe, it would "eat" sunlight. Instead of being trapped in a tiny island of livable habitat, it would have the entirety of the photosphere of the ocean to live in. The only problem was, this new organism, this plant, excreted a toxic waste-product: oxygen. For a long time, this lethal, radical gas set about rusting all the rocks and the soil on the surface of the Earth. It would kill any extremophile who came in contact with it, but for the most part, their habitats were so small, so specialized, so isolated, that they remained safely anoxic. Eventually the rocks rusted all they could, and this toxic oxygen gas began filling up the atmosphere, began dissolving in the ocean water. The plants began to suffocate on their own waste product, literally drowning in their own shit, to say nothing of all the poor geo-trophic archaea who'd survived billions of years of geological upheaval, only to be wiped out by the slowest crisis possible. The archaea who remained were the ones who could tolerate the presence of oxygen, alongside all the other hazards they could endure, or the ones who were more fully sheltered from the omnipresent poison gas.

And then, just before plants wiped themselves out, one plant discovered the way to save the world - cannibalism. It would stop eating sunlight, and start eating its siblings and parents. It would become animal. This new cell, this new life didn't just eat plants, it ate oxygen, and shat out the very carbon dioxide plants needed to breathe in. All plants survived because some plants got eaten, all life survived because some life learned to eat other life. The age of auto-trophes was over, and the age of hetero-trophes had begun. When one animal learned to eat another, when the first carnivore ate the first herbivore, the transition was complete. The Oxygen Crisis was ended, the atmosphere was saved, the very presence of life on Earth was saved, but at a price - what it meant to be alive was changed forever. No longer would "life" only mean that which took in energy from its chemical environment. Now "life" would also include that which took in energy by killing other living things. Life was saved by death. The community of the living was saved by mass murder.

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

Mycetes-Thrax Spellburn

Below are my spellburn results for Mycetes-Thrax. I was inspired by the description of glowburn in Mutant Crawl Classics, where shamans ingest radioactive substances to overclock the processing of their wetware programs.

One idea I'm trying out is removing the flexibility to choose which ability score is sacrificed (for most of the entries). Typical spellburn results suggest that whatever the caster has done can be represented by her choice of Strength, Agility, or Stamina loss - but I thought I might be able to imagine more evocative results if I tied each one directly to a specific ability score.



SPELLBURN (MYCETES-THRAX)

1 The caster inhales a handful of soporific spores. She becomes exhausted and lethargic, expressed as temporary Strength loss. The caster must sleep for 12 hours tonight.

2 The caster inhales psychotropic spores or ingests hallucinogenic fungi. Motion swirls, colors glow, and she perceives objects doubled or tripled, expressed as temporary Agility loss. The caster cannot read for the rest of the day.

3 The caster ingests a handful of toxic fungi. She gags, sweats, weeps, and vomits, expressed as temporary Stamina loss. The caster cannot eat or drink for the rest of the day (and gains no benefit if she does.)

4 The caster receives a blessing from Mycetes-Thrax. The caster improves her spellcheck result by 2 for every 1 point of spellburn. Her skin blossoms with tiny flesh-colored mushrooms that easily snap off at the base, expressed as her choice of temporary Strength, Agility, or Stamina loss. The number of mushrooms is equal to the spellcheck increase (double the ability score loss.) Any other character who eats these mushrooms heals 1 hp for each, but is afflicted by temporary narcolepsy, illiteracy, or nausea, as above, depending on the caster's choice of ability score loss.

Wednesday, April 25, 2018

The Past is Another Planet

... or, what are you supposed to do with all that prehistory?

It started with Goblin Punch asking why fantasy games have a fantastical contemporary ecology, but not a fantastic evolutionary history leading up to the present?

Then Throne of Salt answered the call, with 10 fantastical prehistoric eras. Some highlights include:

"1. The Elemental Epoch: A period of constant conflict. Alliances among air elementals violate the precepts of the Noble Gases and create water elementals. Earth elementals get their shit together and start the Protoplanetary Revolution. Fire elementals undergo species-wide existential crisis after realizing that phlogiston doesn't exist. Ends with the formation of the Periodic Congress."

"5. The Stone-and-Chicken War: Passing asteroidal basilisk petrifies an entire hemisphere and drops eggs from orbit. Enterprising species from the surviving hemisphere colonize the granite wastes, mostly gallusiform avians who fill the nice of apex predator after evolving the kill-signal crowing lethal to basilisks."

"10. Doppelgangerdammerung: Mimicry emerges among freshwater cephalopodic echinoderms as a method of imitating larger, scarier organisms. Over the next few million years the biosphere becomes so adept at mimicry that few organisms even know what niche they actually fill, being so skilled at imitating other beings. Land predators imitate aquatic herbivores. Airborne detritovores imitate subterranean autocannibals. Organisms emerge from the egg-sack imitating another species entirely. Successful mating becomes impossible."

Then Coins & Scrolls joined in with the fantasy history of his campaign world. Unique among these responses, his final pre-contemporary era actually helps explain the current state of his campaign world (if a ribald folk tale can be said to be an explanation):

"8. Floodbeds: Mammals and birds develop. Rise of the Chimera, the Cockatrice, the Coatl. Frequent flooding due to three-way wars between angels, water elementals, and air elementals. Agriculture rediscovered. First prophets. Conversion of the water and air elementals."

"Extinction Event: The Deluge. Civilization of gren-lings and the gren, wiped out by a worldwide flood. They had deliberately flouted the Authority's laws. Two of every animal saved in a giant wooden boat. When the waters receded, the creatures had become all the different types of lings known today."

"A non-canonical, ribald version of the tale says that the good gren-ling who built the boat and filled it with two of every creature neglected to bring along his wife. After a few weeks afloat he became very lonely..."

"9. Current Era: Diverse species of humanoid -lings. Discovery of iron. Snake-men civilization rises, collapses, leaves war machines, mimics, and half-understood magic scattered around. Discovery of mirror realms, stable enchantments. Arrival of the High Elves. Castles. Gunpowder. Soon, the printing press."

I Don't Remember That Move soon followed suit with a more overtly humorous series of epochs:

"4. The Age When Bacteria Were Big And Animals Were Small: Self-explanatory."

"7. Bird Age: Everything was birds. Trees? Tall birds. Viruses? Small birds. Rocks? Heavy birds. People were pretty happy to see the end of this one."

"9. Second Bird Age: God damn it."

Goodberry Monthly followed a day later, using the language of microbiology and the syntax of myth to write the tale of successive eras in a way that casts RNA as Chronos and DNA as Zeus.

"2. Age of Protein Tyranny: For when Protein came about there was a great reckoning. With protein came Division, and Sequestration, and Disparity. Walls began to sprout up, churned and woven by the arisen Disciples of the Fold, to isolate and herd the Free Acids into concentration membranes. Quaternary-Proteo-Ribo Micronauts, the abomination-titans of their time, with cruel nano-sorcery created the ultimate binding ritual for their overpowered and peaceful foe. It was a prison of reflection - a doppelganger duplicate manacle of self: DNA. No weapon has ever been more potent or more final."

"3. The Plastic Epoch: Protein was victorious. With its competitor subjugated, it set about its evolutionary design. The first layer in which we find 'life'. An age marked by an explosion of replication and partitioning. It was an age of Fiber. An age of Biofilm. An age of Lipid. The oldest of the progenitor-foes date to this period: Prion Golems, Quaternary Phage-Key Folders, Neckcracker Enzymes, Oppression Engines. In this layer lies hidden a material scientist's dream: potent polymer-plastics yet to be rediscovered."

Fig. 1 - Max Ernst 1920 "Stratified Rocks, Nature's Gift of Gneiss Lava Iceland Moss 2 kinds of lungwort 2 kinds of ruptures of the perinaeum growths of the heart b) the same thing in a well-polished little box somewhat more expensive"

Or maybe HP Lovecraft started it. "At the Mountains of Madness" starts with the discovery of fossilized tool-users whose civilization predates the Cambrian Explosion, and ends with the discovery of mosaics that tell the story of Earth being colonized and conquered by three successive waves of alien invaders (the Yithian, the Star-Spawn, and the Mi-Go), each of whom rules the planet for longer than all of human history, perhaps even longer than humans have existed as a species.

Lovecraft might have been inspired by "At the Earth's Core" or "Journey to the Center of the Earth", but while Burrows and Verne both imagined known prehistoric lifeforms surviving below despite their extinction above, Lovecraft imagined something more unsettling, something like Olaf Stapledon's "Last and First Men" in reverse - he imagined that the earth was not really "our" planet, that other civilizations came before humans, and lasted longer than humans, and achieved more than humans.

Daniel Quinn claims that our way of remembering history is teleological, even mythical. We tell our story something like this. First the Big Bang happened, and that caused the universe to come into being, which led to the Milky Way, which led to our Sun, which led to the Earth. Life on Earth evolved, first single-cell organisms, then simple multi-cellular organisms, then dinosaurs (who went extinct), then mammals, and then humans. First we were cavemen, then we discovered writing, which caused the Greeks, who caused the Romans, who begat the English, who begat Americans, which is "us". Quinn claims that telling history this way doesn't just make "us" feel important, it also makes us feel safe. It makes us feel like the culmination of history. Everything that happened before happened for a reason, and it all happened "just so," just so that it could lead to us, here, today, living in the best of all possible worlds.

The scientific view of deep history is much more frightening. The universe didn't conspire to create us. It seems like dumb chance that our planet is even capable of supporting lifeforms like ourselves, and at several points in its history, it wasn't. Far from seeming foreordained, we seem like an accident, and one that almost didn't happen, wouldn't have happened if an unlucky asteroid hadn't killed the dinosaurs. We may not even, with 100 percent certainty, be able to rule out the Silurian Hypothesis, which asks whether it is possible for us to know whether or not the dinosaurs may have evolved intelligence and civilization, perhaps even one that lasted longer than ours has - or will.

So our myths make us feel safe. First, by telling us that we aren't an accident, that we were never in danger of not existing. Second, by telling us that we are important. The past is long, but it's full of things that aren't us, and therefore it doesn't matter. We are the only intelligent species on the planet, our civilization is the most advanced civilization that has ever existed, and therefore we have a moral right to rule over the planet, and those of us who speak English and have leisure time to read gaming blogs (so the myth tells us) have a moral right to rule over other humans. To contemplate deep time is like staring into the yawning emptiness that stretches between atomic nucleus and electron cloud, it is to stare deep into the abyss.

The frightening idea that biology and geology and astronomy keep converging on is the idea that our myth isn't true. What Lovecraft is doing in "At the Mountains of Madness" is writing a fiction that communicates the emotional truth that we reject when we glimpse it in the findings of scientists - that the past is long, the human species is young, and Western civilization has no divine right to kingship. (I said that Lovecraft gives us Stapeldon in reverse - in "First and Last Men," Olaf Stapledon asks what it would mean to be human if we could know the future, and know that humans as a genus would spend only 1% of our existence as our current species, and only 10% of our existence on Earth, before moving to Neptune, and enjoying our longest-lasting civilization as a race of psychic manta rays.) It's this same fear that led Robert Howard to propose that a race of Silurian-esque serpent people had a civilization that pre-dated ours, and led Geoffrey McKinney to try to one-up him by suggesting that the serpent people bred humans as lab animals to sacrifice in magic rituals, that humans like ourselves are some kind of feral mixed-breed who exist because a few guinea pigs jumped their cages and escaped the lab.

Fig. 2 - Max Ernst 1921 "The Gramineous Bicycle Garnished with Bells the Dappled Fire Damps and the Echinoderms Bending the Spine to Look for Caresses"

All of this brings me back to my original question. What do you do with all this prehistory?

LP Harley claims, "The past is another country; they do things differently there."

William Faulkner says, "The past isn't over; it isn't even past."

But in a game where the only things that really exist are the things that happen among the people playing the game, the past doesn't, the doesn't exist - unless you make it exist by doing something with it to make it come alive at the table.

So what do you do with all this pre-history?

(1) You could direct your players to a humorous blog post, encourage them to read it, all have a good laugh together, and then get on with a game where nothing in that blog post matters.

(2) You could use the past as set-dressing, like in The Society of Torch, Pole and Rope's Stonehell Dungeon. You enter the Contested Corridors, you use the main corridor loop to navigate the quadrant, you find yourself wandering through the Chamber of the Desert, the Chamber of the Woods, the Sea, the Mountains, the Jungles, the Meadows. You find rooms decorated like themed hotel rooms, a remnant from a time before the orcs, goblins, and kobolds moved in. The rooms don't provide any insight into the larger history of Stonehell, instead they're just a glimpse at an unrecoverable past, a time before, a time when the dungeon existed for itself rather than for the orcs, or for you, just enough to tell you: this place is old, it was here before you, it will be here when you're gone.

(3) Or you could use the past as a kind of clue or foreshadowing, that shows the players where they could go next, like False Machine does in Deep Carbon Observatory. Find the right room in the Observatory, and you find a museum showing off geological strata displayed like giant microscope slides: a core sample from a layer made of fossilized vampires, a stratum a mile deep made of nothing but rusted swords, a city that burned and was rebuilt a thousand times over a million years. You find that museum and you begin to understand what will happen if you venture down into the Veins of the Earth. It's what Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle do in The Mote in Gods Eye, when their characters discover a museum that shows them what the aliens' past was really like. It's what Lovecraft does in "At the Mountains of Madness" (though his characters run away, rather than going deeper). It's what every game designer who allows you to find frescoes that tell you what you'll find next does, what The City of Iron does in The Ruined Abbey of St Clewd, what Tony Dowler does in my favorite, Purple Worm Graveyard.

(4) Or you could try to formalize the mystery solving, make a list of propositions for the players to discover, like Detect Magic does, or draw up worksheets with lists of clues pointing to the existence of various high-level truths, and award XP and gold for finding each clue, and bonuses for finishing each worksheet and "proving" the existence of each "truth", as Grognardia does in Dwimmermount. Make the search for historical truths at least as important a source of level-advancement as the usual search for monsters and treasure. Have factions willing to buy up player maps and newly uncovered rumors. Require the sharing of secrets to level up, as Paul Wolfe recommends in volume 4 of the 2017 Gongfarmer's Almanac.

(5) Or you could use the strata to define the levels of a megadungeon. Level 1, closest to the surface, is essentially the present day. Level 2 is the recent past. Level 3 is a the ancient past. Level 4 is the deep past. Etc.

(6) Or you could complicate matters by making each layer a palimpsest. Level 1 is a mash-up of the present and the recent past. Level 2 mashes up the recent past and the ancient past. Level 3 mashes up the ancient past and the deep past. Etc.

(7) Or you could make a more complex palimpsest by using something like Tony Dowler's How to Host a Dungeon to overlap the strata in more different ways. Some areas will be defined by a single strata, others by a mashup between two adjacent strata, others by mashups between non-adjacent eras. The resulting mix will be nonlinear. Going deeper into the earth generally means going deeper into the past, but you never know quite which era to expect to encounter next.

(8) Or you could travel to past directly, just as though you were traveling to another planet. Go the Chrono Trigger route and visit them in a time machine. Play a Spelljammer campaign and sail a wooden galleon to distant stars that are currently undergoing the epoch of your choice. Start your game in Planescape's city of Sigil, or step through one of the 666 doors of the Kefitzat Haderech, and through every doorway discover another time, another planet. Take advantage of the unlimited range of Pathfinder's "Interplanetary teleport" spell to come and go on your own schedule.

The options aren't all mutually exclusive. 1-4 are basically different ways of using information about earlier epochs in your game. 5-8 are different ways of visiting those epochs more or less directly. But I recommend, if you want there to be a fantastical prehistoric past in your campaign, find a way for players to learn about it, and then, find a way for them to go there and see it firsthand.