METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA: 1976

You may have heard the news already, but I’ve yet to chime in on the latest announcement by Goodman Games that emerged from the chaos of Gary Con VI. Yes, it’s true: the original METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA rules as written by James. M. Ward is being re-released in a deluxe collector’s edition!

Late last year, I started receiving some very cryptic emails from Joseph Goodman inquiring about my familiarity with METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA. I knew the game, and had the uncommon honor of adventuring aboard the Warden three times under Jim Ward’s mastery without the loss of life or limb. I was hoping these email were leading in the direction they seemed to be going, and, sure enough, once the legalities and contracts were obtained, I got the invite to climb aboard the doomed Warden for another go-around.

For those of you unfamiliar with METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA, it is the original science-fiction roleplaying game released by TSR back in 1976. You play the role of a primitive tribesman aboard the generational starship, the Warden, bound for a distant star. Generations ago, catastrophe struck the Warden, killing a large percentage of the crew and colonists, and mutating many of the survivors. Over time, those left alive on the Warden forgot their original mission and plunged into a state of barbarism. The decline of civilization was so thorough that the survivors forgot they were aboard a starship, and developed tribal communities in self-contained levels of the ship that defined their entire world.

As a player character, you begin the game in these small enclosed worlds but eventually discover the truth of your predicament, acquiring knowledge of the Warden and learning to use many of the weird artifacts (lasers, vibro blades, Geiger counters, etc.) left behind by the original crew. If you survive long enough (a difficult task given the hostility of the mutated creatures that prowl the ship and the lethality of radiation still lingering in places), you may eventually gain control of the ship and perhaps even guide it to safety on a new world.

Although METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA didn’t have a long printing life during the TSR days, the game, unlike the PCs who explore the Warden, proved notoriously hard to kill. METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA is the urtext for GAMMA WORLD, and many of the mutations, mutants, and technology found in that first post-apocalyptic roleplaying game first appeared in MA. And like GAMMA WORLD, a game which has gone through seven or eight editions, METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA endured beyond its original print run. TSR released a version of the game for it AMAZING ENGINE system in 1994, Fast Forward Entertainment published a 25^th anniversary edition in 2002, Mudpuppy Games produced the fourth edition in 2006, and there is currently work on a 5^th edition of MA by Signal Fire Games. On top of all this, the original 1976 rulebook is available for download and print-on-demand from WardCo.

“So why in the blazes in Goodman Games producing a deluxe collector’s edition of the original rules?” you might ask. The answer is based on playability, longevity, and historical importance.

The original rules, as available from WardCo., are identical to the 1976 TSR release—and that includes the minute font they were printed in. If you’ve never seen the original rulebook, the type is very small and the layout is in dual column format. That might have been a good idea in 1976, but as many gamers get older, their eyes aren’t what they used to be and the tiny type becomes difficult to decipher. The Goodman Games print run will be an oversized 10.5” x 14” book, allowing the original rules to be printed at 110% size. This will alleviate the eyestrain factor.

The Goodman Games version also collects a vast amount of material released for METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA under a single cover. Magazine articles about the game, James M. Ward’s short story, “Footprints in the Sky,” a new introductory adventure, special advice essays written especially for the deluxe edition, and other useful material will all be compiled in the Goodman Games edition. To ensure this material survives, say exposure to cosmic radiation (or regular game use), the deluxe edition will utilized high-quality binding, that used by collegiate text, to keep the book intact for decades to come. It’s a book you’ll be proud to have as part of your RPG collection, yet tough enough to actually use at the table.

The collector’s edition release also allows Goodman Games to provide support for METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA in the form of published adventures, something that MA has been lacking for many years. Four (and maybe five if the Kickstarter hits its stretch goals) adventures released by Goodman Games are planned for METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA in the coming year. The first, The Android Underlords, was available for purchase at Gary Con VI and was written by yours truly. The opportunity to contribute even a little bit to the Warden’s long history was a dream come true for me, and when the creator of the game praised the adventure, it was a fan’s dream come true. If Jim likes it, you know it’s both good and worthy of bearing the METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA title on the cover.

Once the Kickstarter funds, there will be another three adventures produced, one by Jobe Bittman, another by me, and a third by the captain of the Warden, himself, James M. Ward. Should the Kickstarter hit $37,000, a fifth adventure, author to be determined, will be published as well. Even if you decide that the collector’s edition isn’t your cup of tea, you might consider contributing to the Kickstarter to get the complete run of adventures, all of which can be played with the WardCo version of the rules or easily adapted to other RPG systems (like DCC RPG, for instance!).

Before I go, it bears mentioning that the deluxe collector’s edition is being produced under a license that allows a single printing of the book. Once this run is gone, so is the deluxe version. Those who don’t get aboard the Kickstarter now will have to rely on the secondary markets—where it will command an extravagant price—to obtain a copy.

Hopefully, my ramblings have piqued your interest enough to back the Kickstarter, but if not, there are other ways to get involved with the original science-fiction RPG. Consider checking out one or more of the following METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA forums for more information about the game and to meet like-minded mutants:

The Official METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA forum
The Goodman Games forum’s METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA section
The METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA Facebook Group
The Google+ METAMORPHOSIS ALPHA Community

Current Clacking

In every player pack I created for one of my Realms campaigns, I included “current clack”—news and rumors characters would hear locally (including from caravans passing through their locale) as play began. This is…how it all begins, every time—because if you, the players, are going to choose where your characters go and what they explore, I must dangle an array of possibilities before you. You have to feel the world is no lifeless backdrop, but a gigantic flood of many lives constantly unfolding. 

Ed Greenwood Presents Elminster’s Forgotten Realms, p. 45

That’s Ed demonstrating his old school roots (as if there was ever any question). From that one quote, you see that Ed’s Realms campaigns were “sandbox” affairs, even if he didn’t use—or even know—the now-common term. And although 2^nd edition AD&D somehow got the reputation for being the version that eschewed the sandbox for the railroad, there’s nothing in the actual rules that says it has to be played that way. Deneir knows I wasn’t going to run my campaign that way.

Taking a page from Ed’s book, I created a list of rumors the PCs would know at the start of the campaign and then did some minor preparations to cover my ass should they choose to pursue them. I specifically didn’t flesh out every possible avenue of adventure, cribbing from the old Dungeoncraft articles the adage “Never create more than you have to,” but sketched out an encounter or two related to each rumor. I figured once the players chose a direction to pursue I could add more details to the scenario they wanted to explore. That method has worked well for me in the past and it continues to do so now.

After character creation in the first session, the players got a single page of rumors. Here’s what it contained:

Current Clack for the 9^th of Mirtul—Year of the Shadows (1358 DR)

• Rumors are flying that a trade coster (caravan) traveling from Loudwater up along the Dawn Pass Trail was attacked and looted by brigands of uncertain origin. The ambush occurred a half-day’s travel west of the Nighthunt Inn. Common opinion holds Zhentarim raiders are responsible for the attack, but no definitive evidence links the Black Network to the brigands.
• In light of the recent ambush, a small caravan bound for Lonely Oak is seeking to strengthen its defenses. Polgan Dranthmir of the Thunderpine Trading Coster is looking to hire stout swordsmen and spell-hurlers for the roundtrip journey from Elf Water to Lonely Oak. The trip is expected to take two tendays. Dranthmir is offering 3 silvers per day for freeswords and 5 silvers a day for spell-masters.
• “Elf fire” was spotted late last tenday by travelers approaching the village. The mysterious green fire was sighted south of the western trail near the vicinity of Grumber’s Meadow. Elf fire is believed to appear in places were lost treasure is concealed or where ancient spell-casting once occurred.
• Heavy spring storms have uncovered a sealed portal set in the rocky walls of the Orc Trough, a deep gully located west of town. In addition to this recently unearthed door, the Trough contains a number of old catacombs believed to be of elven origin.
• Erig Wholodown of Wholodown Brewery has a standing offer to buy leathertop mushrooms. He is offering 2 silver per dozen toadstools. Leathertops are found throughout the Southwood, typically in moist earth between the northern roots of crumblebark trees.
• Fresh land urchin tracks have been spotted along the western river bank, indicating a “quill” of land urchins is hunting the area. These curious creatures often form pearls within their bodies, and some older urchins have been known to create up to two dozen pearls with each valued between a hundred and six hundred gold coins. Unfortunately, the bizarre creatures’ myriad spines are poisonous, so urchin hunters should take care.

In the end, the players seemed most interested in the hired caravan guards, the unearthed portal, and the land urchin hunt rumors. They would do a little rumor-mongering of their own in the first session before deciding on which one to pursue. Their choice and the subsequent events will be covered in the next series of posts.

As an aside, I’ve gotten a lot of positive feedback about these Realms posts. I hope you’re enjoying my return to Faerûn and maybe are inspired to make your own visit, either for the first time or to reacquaint yourself with old ground.

Adventure in Your Own Backyard

I took an atypical approach when designing the outskirts of Elf Water. In the past, especially when I anticipated a megadungeon-centric campaign, I’d locate potential adventuring sites a bit of a distance away from the PCs’ home base. This was a nod to realism, seeing as how an ancient ruin rife with fell monsters situated too close to a settlement would mean constant raids and the eventual deaths or departure of any sentient residents living nearby. That’s not the course I undertook with the Realms campaign, and there were several reasons for this design choice.

The first was that the Realms have such a rich and long history. I didn’t quite grasp this in my younger days, but now I have a better idea of what Ed was going for when he built the world. With a history stretching back millennia, the Realms have seen innumerable civilizations and cultures rise and fall, with each potentially leaving their mark behind. There are a lot of similarities between the Realms and Middle Earth, and Peter Jackson’s movies have influenced my mental picture of what the Realms “looks like.” Just as in Jackson’s films, a moss-covered ruin or broken statue of an ancient potentate isn’t out of place in the wilds of the Realms, lingering evidence of those who tread Faerûn long ago. I could conceivably place such enticing lures close to the village and thereby hint at the Realms’ history and to serve as adventure hooks.

Secondly, since I was running a by the book AD&D game with a small number of players, I wanted them to have ready access to help for the first level or two. They could flee to the safety of civilization if they ran out of important materials or got in over their heads. Borrowing from the MMORPG school of design, the outskirts of Elf Water is the “yard trash” newbie zone where one can familiarize themselves with the world before pursuing grander and more dangerous goals. In the future, I could see myself using Elf Water and the environs as an introductory campaign for players experiencing RPGs for the first time, but I hope it’s also challenging and interesting enough that veteran players will enjoy their own explorations.

Thirdly, I wanted to ground the PCs in their home town, making it seem like a real place, one they have familiarity with by virtue of living there their entire young lives. I have many pleasant memories of rambling through the wooded glens of my own neighborhood in my youth, dreaming dreams of what adventures might be found there and making my own discoveries of places and things forgotten in the scrap woods of suburbia. It stands to reason the PCs would have similar experiences, albeit of a slightly more dangerous variety.

Lastly, and I make no bones about this, I was influenced by Ed’s map of Shadowdale that appeared in the Gray Box. In addition to detailing the village of Shadowdale, there are a number of geographical features depicted on the map, many of which have legends and adventure potential assigned to them. If it’s good enough for the Realms’ creator, it’s good enough for me.

With these design decisions in mind, I set out filling in the rest of blank space on my big piece of poster paper that already held my Elf Water map. This is the result:

Blank poster paper and colored pencils: Life's less celebrated wonders.

There are few special landmarks and places the PCs know about—and more they don’t. I have a master map with each interesting place or thing detailed, but these are unmarked on the big map. During the game sessions, I lay the large map down on the table and let the players consult it, replicating their familiarity with the area. Of course, growing up here doesn’t mean they know everything about their own backyard. They know the major landmarks and legends, so I’m not spoiling the fun by pointing out a couple of them. Maybe it’ll get your own creative juices flowing.

In the lower left-hand corner is a gorge running through the woods. This is the somewhat infamous “Orc Trough.” The elven/human alliance broke the Black Slashers’ drive toward Loudwater in this gulley back in 1235 DR with a cunning ambush. The rocky walls of the Trough contain a number of elven catacombs known as Sinomrin. An Espruar word that’s closest Common translation is both “tomb” and “remembrance place,” the Sinomrin were formed from the surrounding rock to memorialize some of the great lights of Eaerlann who fled south when Hellgate Keep rose in power. When the Black Slashers marched through the Southwood, guerilla engagements drew the horde to this location. Human and elven troops concealed themselves in the Sinomrin, springing out to ambush the horde and cutting the orcish flanks to bloody ribbons before routing the Slashers and sending them back to the Graypeaks. When the elves conceded the verge of the Southwood to human settlement, they emptied the Sinomrin, leaving the catacombs bare. Since that time, the Sinomrin have served to host teenage parties away from parental eyes and more than a few adulterous rendezvous. But they are not all completely abandoned as the party has recently learned.

Just north of the Orc Trough on the far side of the brook is the farm of Amrig and Sobashy, a woodsman and healer, respectively. The couple prefers the solitude of the woods over the hustle and bustle of the village proper, and they are largely believed to be “elf friends,” individuals who deal with the isolationist Lanymthilhar elves.

At the eastern edge of the banana-shaped clearing bisected by the western road stands a single tree. This is the Hangman’s Tree, a relic of the rough frontier justice enacted regularly in the early days of Elf Water’s settling. Although no longer used, rumors say a ghostly figure is sometimes sighted beneath the tree and is undoubtedly the spectre of an unknown criminal who met his (or her) death on the tree decades ago.

North of the large clearing where the Hangman’s Tree grows is a rocky hill known as “The Prow.” The southern edge of the hill is steep and narrows to a point, giving it the appearance of a ship’s bow breaking through the surrounding trees. A stone bearing Thorass runes is located atop the Prow and some of the PCs have seen it in their youth, but the lack of fluency in the dwarven tongue means the stone’s writing remains a mystery.

Immediately east of The Prow and in the vaguely star-shaped clearing located east of the Orc Trough are two large clearings. The presence of a pond and creek in each meadow makes for damp earth, making both places possible sites to gather leathertop mushrooms, should one be in the mood for such fare.

All my initial prep work was now finished and I was ready to begin the campaign. There was just one small chore I needed to do: seed the campaign with rumors and see which ones would spark the players’ interest, thus deciding the course of the campaign for the first few sessions. I’ll share those rumors, or to put it in Realms terms, “the clack,” tomorrow.

MAJUS: Five Adventure Seeds to Get You Started

As I write this, we’re just 9 days and $1,119 away the end of the MAJUS Kickstarter campaign. Some of you have already contributed and now have a playable copy of the game in your (digital) hands. But where do you begin your new MAJUS campaign? With many different options available to you, you might already have the wheel spinning in your heads. However, some folks may require a little helpful guidance before heading into the shadowy underworld of the Maji. In that regard, I’m here to help.

What follows are five adventure seeds you can use to jumpstart your MAJUS game. As is my usual design philosophy, I’m going to avoid hard game mechanics and just give you the gist of things to get your creative juices flowing. Whenever applicable, I note what version of the Skein might work best for these seeds, but feel free to ignore whatever I say (which is also my design philosophy in a nutshell).

1) One of the young scions of the Skein bloodline (Skein option #1) vanishes and the PCs become embroiled in locating the child, either by their Tower or as part of their own schemes in the Mehen. With no ransom forthcoming, kidnapping for monetary or magical gain seems unlikely. The PCs’ investigation unearths that the child went missing while accompanying his minders on a seemingly mundane errand close to one of the seamier section of the city. Unbeknownst to all, the child was lured away from his protectors by a band of Tylwyth Teg slavers intent on selling the child to the highest bidder, be it child slavers or rival Maji. The PCs must venture into the faerie-controlled criminal underworld to rescue the child before he goes up on the block.  For a more horrific adventure, substitute the Tylwyth Teg faeries for one of De Rais’ Children, making the PCs’ search a race against the clock before the missing boy becomes the ogre’s next meal.

2) On May 20, 2003, US-led forces invade Iraq under the codename “Operation Iraqi Liberation.” Ostensibly, the collation’s purpose is to end the regime of Saddam Hussein and stop Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction initiative, but was there another purpose? In this adventure, the Iraq War is the public face of a gambit masterminded by the Projecteers to locate and loot a number of ancient sites dating back to Sumer strewn throughout the Iraqi deserts. The PCs are deep-cover operatives of the Projecteers charged with the discovery and plundering of those sites before rival Towers can do the same. Played against a backdrop of on-going warfare and insurgency, the PCs must navigate a treacherous landscape where not all threats are magical. In addition to dodging bullets and IEDs, the Maji must face down enemy sorcerers and mystical guardians, some of whom have grown incredibly powerful since they accepted their charges from the priest-kings of old. Skein options #2 and #3 work equally well for this campaign, which can continue throughout the occupation of Iraq.

3) A series of anonymous tips alert the PCs to certain stratagems in play by rival Maji, allowing them to counteract their enemies’ schemes before coming to fruition. The identity of their informant remains a puzzling mystery, but one thing is clear: Whoever is alerting them knows much about the Old Game. But can this mysterious source be trusted? After much convincing, their unknown ally agrees to meet with them and the PCs discover that he is none other than a “feral” golem whose master died in the Old Game. Now searching for a place in the mystical underworld, the golem is well-versed in the Mehen and is both a valuable source of intelligence and a formidable opponent in battle. But can he be completely trusted, or is its aid all a prelude to its subtle campaign to bring about the destruction of all Maji, who it still harbors ill-will toward for its creation and abandonment? Skein option #4 works well for this adventure idea, but cunning CMs might use option #3 and make the golem itself one of the artifacts important to the Skein.

4) The PCs catch wind of a rumored artifact of old, long forgotten in an ancient temple dedicated to an obscure deity from antiquity. The location of the temple has vanished in the mists of history and the worshippers of that long-ago god no longer exist to aid their search. With no other leads available, the Maji must venture into the Astral Plane to the region known as Cemetery, where old gods go to die. After navigating the hazards of the Astral realm, the PCs win their way to Cemetery to locate the flickering spark that was once a deity and convince it to reveal the location of its former temple. If they’re lucky, the PCs might not only discover the resting place of the artifact, but inspire new life in the dying divinity, earning them a potent new ally in the Mehen once the god begins to reclaim its old power.

5) It is a well-known fact that nobody walks away from the table once they’ve started playing the Old Game. Retirement is not an option for Maji. Nevertheless, it seems one Majus intends to prove everyone wrong and has decided to duck out of the Mehen at the top of his game. In order to do so, he must tie up decades’ worth of loose ends, owed favors, enemies still gunning for him, and a host of other small tasks to make a clean break. To do so, he decides to employ the up-and-coming PCs as his agents, promising to hand the reins of his magical empire over to them if they help him get out of the Old Game. Can he be trusted? Does the Majus really want out or is this just another one of the multi-faceted schemes he’s used over the years to build his powerbase? This adventure seed works best with option #4, but can easily incorporate any (or even all) other Skein option in a campaign. CMs looking to run a campaign with a secretive director issuing regular adventures to the PCs for them to pursue will find this an excellent framing device for the campaign.

MAJUS: A Look at the Skein

Let me first say that I’ve extremely grateful to the fifty-seven of you who have contributed to the MAJUS Kickstarter. We’re at the half-way point now and the game is more than 50% funded. With two weeks left in the campaign drive, I thought I’d shine a hasher light into the shadows of MAJUS and illuminate the driving goal of its inhabitants: that strange thing called “The Skein.”

Conflict is a necessary element in drama, and therefore a requirement for any medium seeking to engage and entertain its audience—RPGs included. When I sat down to write MAJUS, I set out to design a central point of contention that drove the battles in the shadows that are the lifeblood of Maji. At the same time, my design goal was to make this axis of conflict customizable to allow game masters to run the type of campaign they wanted within the MAJUS universe. The end result was the Skein, an enigmatic end game that most of the rival magical Towers seek to either control, destroy, or protect.

In short, the Skein is a thing that the Maji have been contesting since the days of ancient Sumer, with some seeking to claim it for themselves, while others strive to destroy it completely. It serves as the focal point of the Old Game, otherwise known as “the Mehen” after a nearly forgotten Egyptian game of strategy. But what that thing is, I leave wholly up to the hands of the CM. This way, the Skein retains much of its mystery, and allows the game master to best build a campaign of MAJUS to his/her and the players’ liking.

MAJUS doesn’t leave the CM completely in the dark regarding the Skein, however, and I make a few suggestions as to what the Skein might be and how it affects the type of campaign that uses those options. Here’s a quick breakdown of the types of Skeins up for offering and what a campaign featuring those types might entail. You can find more details in the MAJUS rulebook, itself.

1) The Skein as a bloodline: Although all Maji trace their heritage back to the Sumerian priest-kings, not all are equal in blood. Among them is a sacred, powerful bloodline destined to bring about great changes on the magical stage. Jokingly known as the “Harry Potter option,” the Skein as a bloodline sees the campaign revolve around gambits designed to protect, enslave, or eradicate the descendents of this ancestral legacy. The PCs might be mystical bodyguards or, on the flip side of the coin, magical assassins charged with slaying those of the blood before they come to power. Another option would be a campaign where the members of the bloodline are unknown, forcing the PCs to track down the living descendents before deciding whether they need protection or destruction. Game masters looking to run campaigns featuring the Knights Templar, the Priory of Scion, or to cannibalize the plot of The Da Vinci Code will find this option to their liking. It can also take strange turns into Lovecraft country. After all, the Maji of ancient Sumer were said to have come from the sea. Perhaps the members of the bloodline are those “pure” specimens who retail the strongest hold on their aquatic ancestry or maybe they are the inheritors of the lost arts of sunken Mu.

2) The Skein as sacred sites: This option casts the Skein as a network of lay lines, dragon roads, etc. which cross at potent points across the globe. These nexuses contain immense mystical power and the Tower that controls these sites bolsters their magical prowess a hundredfold. In their moves and counter-moves in the Mehen, the Maji battle to discover and possess (or destroy) these sacred sites before their enemies can, and game masters looking to indulge in world-spanning travel to obscure locals will find this option to their liking. From dense jungles to frozen wastes, the PCs journey to locate these nodes to tap or negate their power. In this version, these sacred sites are known as “labyrinths,” named after one of the first of their kind in ancient Crete. And of course, every labyrinth needs a “minotaur” to guard it. In a campaign with this type of Skein, these minotaurs run the gamut from strong and obviously supernatural defenders to inbred hillbillies with shotguns and a strong family legacy to patrician New England families with a sense of honor and millions of dollars in their trust funds. The PCs might even be minotaurs themselves, seeking to protect their labyrinth from outsiders seeking to pillage or decimate it. If you want a campaign with gunfights and spell-slinging amongst the ruins of Machu Picchu after the tourists have gone back to their hotels, this is the option to choose.

3) The Skein as antiquities: For the Indiana Jones’ fans, this version of the Skein sees the Towers competing to possess or eradicate ancient objects of power, and like the Skein as sacred sites’ version, is a good excuse for world-trotting Maji to battle in exotic or unexpected places. At least one of the Towers, the Sodality of Thoth Eternal, dedicates itself to the collecting and cataloguing of ancient artifacts, and with this Skein option, the PCs might be members of that Tower looking to acquire new artifacts either from forgotten locations or from the hands of their current owners. Game masters can do a lot with this type of Skein. One week might see the PCs battling in a dilapidated Mayan tomb in the middle of the jungle and the next week have them plotting an “Ocean’s Eleven” type heist to steal an artifact from a gleaming and heavily defended (both magically and mundanely) skyscraper. If you really want to pay homage to the noir roots of MAJUS, steal the plot of “The Maltese Falcon,” but make everyone a rival Maji and give the Falcon some potent mojo. Game masters looking for inspiration or artifacts to outright steal will find ten of them in the pages of MAJUS: From Hess’ Luger to the Emerald Tablet of Hermes Trismegistus, there are some neat oddities to choose from.

4) The Skein as the Maji: In this version, the Skein and the Old Game is the same thing, with the Maji fighting to dominate the magical underworld and plot the course of humanity’s fate. Call it the “Highlander Option,” if you will. Rather than battling to possess some external element, the Maji are fighting themselves, with each Tower out to use or destroy the rest until only one remains alive. To this end, there is no lack of double-crosses, multi-level conspiracies, paranoid, and machinations, and the PCs can never trust others—even the party itself might face betrayal from within! This version really draws inspiration from the gray morality of film noir and players who thrive on weaving complex schemes and manipulating others will find this option most enjoyable. In the end, only one Tower will remain standing (or maybe just a single cabal of Maji within that Tower): Are the players’ crafty enough to be those survivors?

If any of this is pushing your “That’s So Cool!” buttons and you haven’t done so yet, please take the time to throw a few bucks at the MAJUS Kickstarter. Remember, every contributor receives the draft copy of the rules, allowing you to familiarize yourself with the world of MAJUS and get playing long before the book arrives on your doorstep in August. Thanks for reading and a double “thank you” for contributing!

The Slow Climb Back and Other News

With Hurricane Sandy slowly receding into a bad memory for many (but by no means all) of us on the East Coast of the U.S., it’s time to get back to business of writing adventures and meeting deadlines. That is if the nor’easter that’s now heading our way doesn’t sucker punch us while we’re stilling recovering. Here’s to hoping that power systems don’t catastrophically fail again for a week or two.

But before I start the slow climb back to getting merely swamped with work again rather than drowning in it, a few reports and announcements:

Firstly, the expanded version of The Dungeon Alphabet is now in stores. I received several copies of both the “original” cover and the limited edition gold foil to bring to an in-store appearance (more on that in a moment) and the gold foil cover really impressed me. It’s got a very sinisterly eldritch quality to it. It almost dares you to open the tome and see what mysteries await you within. Foes of the “Good Price” faux-sticker will also be pleased to note that it’s gone from the original cover.

There’s been some grumbling about the expanded version, but both Goodman Games and I anticipated that. Some people feel that the added material “punishes” you fine folks who bought the original 48 pp. version of the book three years ago. And while I understand that argument, what it unfortunately comes down to is that it’s no longer financially feasible to print The Dungeon Alphabet and offer it for the original $9.99 cover price (which was a damned cheap price for a hardcover RPG supplement that features incredible artwork and a high reusable factor, you must admit). And so the decision was made to raise the cost and, to compensate for the increase, to add more material the book. Maybe some of the dissatisfaction comes from it being referred to as a third printing rather than the expanded Dungeon Alphabet. I really don’t know; I just write these damned things and do my best to read the minds of my fellow gamers.

All I can say for certain is that if you enjoyed the original version of the book and want to see what new art and material we’ve included in the third printing, please consider picking up the expanded version. If you think you’re being cheated in some manner because there’s new stuff in this printing, I can’t change your mind with a few sentences in a blog post. See what others are saying about the book in the weeks and months ahead and make a decision once you’ve read the reviews and shop accordingly.

The expanded version is available from Goodman Games’ web store, your finer FLGS, Paizo, FRP Games, and other online stores.

Speaking of the Dungeon Alphabet, this past Sunday saw me on the road to All Things Fun in West Berlin, NJ to help promote the new version and DCC RPG. Despite apocalyptic fuel shortages and mass destruction, the trip down and back was uneventful, and I can’t say enough good things about All Things Fun. The store is clean, bright, spacious, and has a wide variety of products available from a very friendly staff. And their name isn’t hype. You’ll find everything from comic books, board games, miniatures, CCG, RPGs, and t-shirts available in the store. If you’re a gamer in the southern New Jersey/Philadelphia area, I highly recommend a trip to All Things Fun to see what they might have to offer you.

As can be expected in the wake of a natural disaster, the turn-out for my in-store appearance was small, but that didn’t stop those folks who did come down from having a good time. My players got the opportunity to playtest a new adventure I’ve written for DCC RPG, being the first living, breathing players to take a crack at it. Not only did they have fun, but the scenario seems to be working as intended, which is always nice for a designer to see. It means the crazy idea I had has legs outside of my own brain and less rewriting before final submission. A very big and heartfelt thanks to Anthony, Mike, and Rich for venturing out and climbing the Ghost Ice. Those of you interested in hearing their impressions of the day should visit the blogs Circle of Dar Janix, Swords of Legend, and Once More Unto the Breach! where those good gentlemen may have more to say about the game and their experiences.

Lastly, the first round of the Goodman Games’ Mystery Map Adventure Design Competition has ended. There were a lot of great submissions to the contest and one lucky soul is going to walk away with both $1,000 and a contract to turn their creation into an official DCC RPG adventure published by Goodman Games. Now, Joseph Goodman, Harley Stroh, Doug Kovacs, Aldo Ghiozzi, Stefan Poag, Erol Otus, and myself have to pick the crème-de-la-crème from those entries that made it to the final round. It’s not going to be an easy task, but I think between the lot of us, we’ll agree on an entry worthy of joining the DCC RPG canon of adventure modules. Stay tuned for more news as we reach a final decision.

Let’s Talk “Of Unknown Provenance”

I had a revelation this week: I suck at self-promotion. I’ll talk your ear off about whatever cool widget or book that’s coming down the pike that has my attention, but when it comes to plugging my own work, I need a PR guy. A media assassin. Harry Allen, I gotta ask him.

This satori luckily coincided with the fact that I did an interview for Jennisodes to help plug “Of Unknown Provenance” and the rest of my upcoming projects. I’ll provide a helpful link once it goes live, but, in the meantime, let’s take a closer look at “Of Unknown Provenance” and the madness behind the method. Maybe once you see what’s going on in my head, you might be willing to help turn it from a flight of phantastical whimsy to an actual dead tree thing.

First of all: provenance. It’s not a word that gets tossed around a lot, so a definition is in order. In short, provenance is the chain of ownership behind an item. In the art, archival, and collecting worlds, knowing the provenance of something is extremely invaluable when determining its worth. Was that painting owned by a dear friend of the artist? Was is purchased through legitimate channels or did it just appear one day on the market without documented ownership? Establishing a clear provenance is very important in legitimate dealings and collecting, so already you have an idea that this adventure concerns people, places, and things not at all concerned with how they got their paws on the items in question.

When James approached me to participate on the project, his orders were pretty loose. In fact, they boiled down to “do whatever the hell you want if it’s cool.” Now, that’s a constraint I can work with! So with that direction in mind, I started brainstorming. Do a dungeon crawl? No thanks, been doing too much of that with Stonehell and I need to expand my horizons. Hex crawl? Extraplanar adventures across time and space? Again, not really that exciting for me at the moment.

The hackneyed old phrase in writing is “Write what you know.” As some of you are aware, I’m an archivist by trade when not churning out RPG books and it’s a career and institution that doesn’t get a lot of play. I think that outside of the Nick Cage “National Treasure” film, I can’t recall the last time either archivists or archives got a fair shake in popular entertainment. And so, I decided to correct that.

Archives, like museums, are repositories of items and documents with “intrinsic historical value.” They’re places to stash stuff you want to preserve, but don’t necessarily want to lock away forever. A place to keep the grubby hands of the everyman away the good stuff and let those qualified to handle and appreciate it do so under controlled conditions. As John Constantine once said about the British Museum, “It’s where they keep the loot.”

As we all know, loot and adventurers go together like gin and tonic, so the concept of introducing such a store house—combined with my own experience in the trade—seemed like a natural fit. Riffing off that idea, I started thinking about the final scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, the GURPS supplement Warehouse 23, and the Sci-fi series Warehouse 13. What red-blooded, greedy adventurer wouldn’t want a chance at prying open some of those crates and seeing what might be worth taking? OK, I think we’re on to something here.

James Raggi has also been charting a different course for Lamentation of the Flame Princess as of late, setting-wise. From my view, he’s been moving away from your standard pseudo-medieval fantasy setting and looking towards the 15^th and 16^th centuries, a time when rampant imperialism and the subjugation of anyone unfortunate enough to live in an area possessing value to those empires was commonplace. That tied into the concept of a storehouse of esoteric loot. After all, once the caretakers of such cultural artifacts have been exterminated, who’s left to keep their “quirks” under control? Best to stick those things somewhere safe until somebody can puzzle that out. I’ll also now break a cardinal rule of writing and design that states you should always obscure your sources by saying that Blue Oyster Cult’s Imaginos album, specifically “Magna of Illusion” plays an important role in defining my course for “Of Unknown Provenance.”

Those of you familiar with my Stonehell know that I’m very big on modular design, and not what one usually means when referring to “game modules.” I enjoy telling a big story, but I also realize that not everyone wants to listen to the whole tale, preferring only to take the chapters that interest them instead. “Of Unknown Provenance” will reflect that same design philosophy.  To accommodate that goal, I found myself drifting back to the old horror/sci-fi anthologies of my youth: Tales from the Dark Side, The Outer Limits, The Twilight Zone, Amazing Stories, Friday the 13^th: the Series, and even Freddy’s Nightmares. “Of Unknown Provenance” is an homage to those shows, featuring a central adventure “plot” (for lack of a better word) comprised of several smaller vignettes that twine together to give the players multiple views of what’s happening at the Night Archive. So, if you’re the referee and have no interest in the big picture, there’s going to be lots to loot from this adventure. I’ll even provide the dotted lines for you to cut along when you take out your mental scissors.

I’m still not settled on an “appropriate for PCs of levesl X through X” for the adventure and won’t be until the fingers hit the keys and start exploring the Archive, but likely this one’s going to end up in the “PC sweet spot” of 6^th-8^th level.

You can hear me talk some more about “Of Unknown Provenance” once the Jennisodes podcast goes live, but in the meanwhile, I hope I’ve given you all a little peek at what to expect from the adventure. If this helps you decide you want to make “Of Unknown Provenance” a reality, hop over to IndieGoGo and make a contribution. My thanks go out to everyone who’s already contributed based solely on my name and the thumbnail description I provided. Hopefully you and the rest of the gaming world will get a crack at the Night Archive and discovering why it’s the uncertain things that make life so interesting.

Wanted: 265 Fans with $20 to Spare

There's been some talk going on in the ether about James Raggi's massive July crowdsourcing campaign. Some are sure he's mad, others believe he can pull it off. Me, I'm certainly hoping that the later faction is correct because I really want see the funky ideas I have for "Of Unknown Provenance" see the light of day.

Over at Lamentations of the Flame Princess blog, I read two comments that made my afternoon:

"The names he has writing adventures are "famous" in their own rights. Does Monte Cook have 300 fans willing to pay $20 for his adventure? Does Michael Curtis?" -- Ramanan Sivaranjan

"Of course a Michael Curtis + LotFP module would sell 300+ copies over a reasonable period of time." -- Guy Fullerton

So the question remains, and only my readers and fans can answer it: Are there 265 of you would plunk down $20 bucks for a printed copy and a PDF of "Of Unknown Provenance" and make the adventure a reality? You've got 25 days to make it happen. If it does, know that I remain deeply humbled and honored that you folks would give up the cost of a movie and snacks for me.

Of Unknown Provenance on IndieGoGo

James Raggi has kicked off a campaign to get nineteen adventures for Lamentations of the Flame Princess RPG funded in the month of July. The would-be authors of these works runs the gamut from industry professionals, up-and-comers, and a few wild cards one wouldn’t expect to see lending their names to a roleplaying game supplement.

One of the names that falls somewhere in that range is my own. Provided the funding is achieved, I’ll be writing an adventure entitled “Of Unknown Provenance.” They say write what you know, so I decided to use a forgotten, near-legendary repository of items with intrinsic – as well as pecuniary—value as the adventure’s framing device. It’s also my nod to certain anthology shows like Tales from the Darkside and Friday the 13^th: The Series. The teaser is as follows:

In certain occult circles, sorcerers still trade tales of the Night Archive. Known as a repository for artifacts deemed too perplexing or too dangerous for mortal minds to safely comprehend, the Night Archive was a vault of wonders tended by the devoted few who dedicated their lives to the custody of the macabre and inscrutable. But history, like the weird inks that stain arcane grimoires, is prone to fading and the Night Archive slipped into the mists of legend. 

Now, as the stellar wheel turns above and the sign of Herthas rises once more, rumors spread that the location of the Night Archive is again known by Man. The fate of its collection and the caretakers charged with its keeping remains a mystery, but for those who deduce the vault’s location, a treasure trove of magic surely lies for the taking…

I’m really looking forward to penning this one, so please, if you’re interested in seeing it brought to life, consider kicking in to help fund the adventure. While you’re doing so, check out the rest of the adventures currently up for funding and see if they also pique you’re interest. Both I and the rest of the authors would be extremely grateful.

Submitted for Consideration for Your Next Campaign

I'm still getting settled into my new home, new job, and let's face it, new life, but I wanted to share something with you all that I see every day on my drive to work:

Graymoor either lies to the southwest of the Egg of Coot or exists in a parallel plane of existence. In either case, it is a land where sword & sorcery meets film noir. A land of shadows and mist, conspiracies, paranoia, trench-coated adventurers, and sultry femme-fatales. Sounds like the perfect cure for the high fantasy blues!

Or, it's a lonely county along the Atlantic coast (on either side of the pond), where the waves crash against the jagged rocks, crumbling manors cling precariously to the edge of cliffs, and the nights are broken by the sound of screams or howls that may not be animal in origin.

The October County: Les Rouge Soeurs

If you spend enough time around the bayas of Snakewater Swamp, sooner or later you’ll hear tales of the loup-garou, a nasty piece of work that haunts the backwaters and lonely roads late at night. Chances are, especially if you’re from Earth, you’re already thinking you know what ol’ loup is. You’d be wrong.

Old loup-garou is a man or woman who went bad...real bad. So bad that when they died, not even Hell wanted a piece of them and so they walk the world of the living, angry, mean, and hungry. You can tell a loup-garou easy: he’s got a wolf’s skull for a head and is wrapped in the burial shroud they put him in the ground in. He’s got long claws and razor-sharp teeth, and he likes nothing more than a dainty bit of woman flesh to chew on. Fact is, old loup will stalk a woman a’fore he’d stalk a man. That’s usually bad news for a woman or girl caught out after dark when he’s on the prowl.

But loup-garou has met his match a few times when he thought he’d spotted a helpless waif alone in the dark. Sometimes it’s due to sheer luck; other times it’s because that helpless maiden was more than she seemed and knew what lurked out in the night. But the worst bit of news for a hungry loup-garou is that the little bit of girl he planned to put the bite on is one of the les Rouge Soeurs.

Nobody can recall who started the les Rouge Soeurs  (otherwise known as the Red Sisters to those who don’t habla the patois of the baya). Nobody outside the Sister that is; those who bear the crimson could tell you, but it ain’t likely unless they’re welcoming you into their krewe—and they’re only doing that if you’re a woman who got one over on old loup-garou.

Les Rouge Soeurs specialized in hunting loup-garou, bringing the fight to those critters with fire, silver, and mirrors. You can recognize one of the Rouge Soeurs by the red cloaks and dyed leather armor they wear. They usually ride chestnuts, sorrels, or palominos when they can find them and seat them with red saddles tooled with silver. Almost all the Sisters carry firearms, but each is a master with a blade as well. They work in teams of five or six, with each krewe responsible for a large region, oftentimes covering many hundreds of miles in area. Each group reports to a superior known as Grand-mère who works to coordinate her team with other krewes of les Rouge Soeurs to hunt down and destroy loup-garou wherever they might lurk.

Les Rouge Soeurs only recruit woman and teenage girls who have survived a loup-garou attack. For many of these victims, the sense of sisterhood offered by membership in les Rouge Soeurs, combined with the skills and tactics they learn upon initiation, helps them cope with psychological trauma they face in the wake of an attack and forges them into self-confident, powerful women. With this empowerment, few have any desire to return to the world and society they knew before they met their monster.

Although they specialize in loup-garou,  les Rouge Soeurs will hunt other dangerous creatures, especially those that victimize the young, old, or defenseless. They have an uneasy relationship with the Rambling Men and occasionally work with one of those travelling troubadours when their interests coincide, but the personalities and the misogynistic attitudes that some Rambling Men have tend to make those partnerships short-lived.

Wildwyck County: The Case of the Haunted House: Part IV

Back at the farm, they took precautions against possible possession. Weapons were unloaded and locked away, and the three kept close watch on one another for uncharacteristic behavior. Charlie’s wounds, incurred when dragged through the glass, were dressed and Chuck began to read the three small books liberated from the closet.

One proved to be an out-of-print book dating from the late 1800s. It was a commercially-released treatise of demonology, available through special dealers and more liberal-minded book stores. Although the information within was unsettling, it was nothing that had not been covered in other texts before. One section of the book was dog-eared, however, and the phrase “Knights of the Silver Twilight” was underlined several times. The investigators tucked this tidbit away to follow up on at another date.

The other two books were personal journals, scrawled in the spiderlike hand of Walter Corbitt, himself. Deciphering the scribbles would take some doing, and Chuck proceeded to brew a pot of coffee before delving into the arcane memoirs.

Reading the journals took two days, but the information within opened Chuck’s mind up to frightening new vistas of reality. In addition to several unsettling implications about the nature of the cosmos, the books also explained the process required to “Summon the Shimmering Walker.” It would take some weeks to master that process, so the journals were put aside for safe keeping. The investigators had learned their lesson about revealing ownership of strange books to outsiders.

Speaking of which, during the period while Chuck decrypted the journals, Joseph and Charlie attempted to track down the whereabouts of Father Sullivan. Father Andrew revealed that he was quite concerned about the missing priest as he had himself learned from the church records that Father Sully was an only child. Although finding his excuse for his sudden disappearance false, Father Andrew was loath to allow the two investigators into the absent priest’s quarters. He was hoping that this disappearance was due to poor decision making rather than a criminal act. Having experience with Irish priests in the past, Father Andrew was fervently hoping Father Sullivan would return soon, bleary eyed and shameful, but in sound health.

With no new information learned and the journals completed, the three decided that they could hide from their inevitable task no longer and drove back to Ashton to confront the house and the forces that inhabited it once and for all. Arriving on site, they discovered the upstairs windows still smashed, but the doors closed and unlocked. Suspecting either the wind or a concerned neighbor to be responsible for the shut doors, they ventured into the house one last time, tense and alert.

They made their way to the cellar door without delay, throwing upon its locks and descending down the creaking, rotting stairs. At the bottom, they discovered a small cellar with oiled dirt floor, several cluttered workbenches, an old barrel, and a side room that once held coal and firewood. Three of the walls were brick; the fourth was closely fitted wooden boards. This irregularity led them to believe that the wooden boards concealed another chamber and Charlie and Joseph took to demolishing the timber with their pry bars. They opened a gap large enough to look through and shone their electric torch into the small space beyond. A fetid stench filled their nose and the chittering of rats—dozen and dozens of rats—arose from the junk-filled cavity beyond.

As they peered inside, Chuck gave out a scream behind them! Turning, they saw a bloody wound across Chuck’s back and a rusty knife floating in mid-air before him! The knife slashed again, barely missing him. Joseph leveled his shotgun at the knife and let loose a blast, hoping to strike the invisible force wielding the weapon, but to no avail.

The three battled the knife, grasping a wooden barrel lid and using it as a shield. Despite their best efforts, both Charlie and Chuck were gashed by the blade, Chuck bad enough to lose consciousness as blood ran from his myriad wounds. As Chuck tumbled to the earthen floor, so did the knife, inert once again. Joseph applied first aid to Chuck, while Charlie heaved the bloodied dagger into the open barrel and then nailed the wooden lid in place to seal up the peculiar poignard.

Despite Joseph’s best efforts, Chuck remained unconscious and the two alert investigators debated a full retreat. Thinking back upon the battle, however, the both realized that the blade stuck slower and slower as the fight dragged on, as if the eldritch forces behind the attack were growing weary. Rather than risk giving those unknown powers the chance to recuperate, they decided to press on and see what lay beyond the timber barrier.

The rats had fled during the fight, so it was without incident that the two cleared an entrance into the space beyond. There they discovered another wooden wall, this one bearing the phase “Chapel of Contemplation” carved into the aged boards. Some more hard labor later, an entrance had been made into the chamber beyond that final wall.

The space beyond was obviously the remainder of the cellar. The floor was earthen and the walls were brick. It held little, but what it did contain gave the two pause. A crude pallet lay in the center of the room. Atop it was the thin, almost feral-looking, form of a naked dead man. A small table holding papers stood in the far corner and cobwebs hung like streamer from the ceiling above. The investigators moved towards the table, thinking that the paper would shed light on this final conundrum.

As they approached, the dead man rose to his feet. A stench like rotting corn wafted from his wizened form and white, burning eyes glimpsed the two. Charlie raised his revolver and blasted away at the walking dead man. His first shot struck the corpse in the skull, blowing away a part of its skull but to no effect. His second shot took the body high in the chest, blowing another hole in the corpse and causing a spray of stinking, black blood to erupt from its back, painting the walls with gore.

The corpse closed on Charlie, swinging ghastly claws at the terrified shamus, but missed their target as he scrambled away. Joseph swung his shotgun like a club, striking the corpse to little discernable result other than to gain the attention of Corbitt’s corpse. As the undead sorcerer moved in for the kill, Charlie fired his last shot at the body, blowing away the rest of the dead man’s skull. A cry erupted from the corpse, the chittering of rats sounded in the walls, and the body collapsed to the floor. Moments later, the body crumbled to dust, revealing a black stone amulet and chain where the corpse had lain.

The two attempted to collect the papers from the table, but time had nearly destroyed them and they too turned to dust when touched. Gathering a Mason jar from the one of the worktables near the stairs, Joseph looped the chain of the amulet onto his pry bar and deposited the necklace inside the glass container, securing the lid once inside. The two gathered up the unconscious Chuck and departed the site with great alacrity.

The trio was successful in uncovering the forces responsible for the Willow St. house’s uncanny events and despite the wounds suffered, emerged victorious. Fletcher Dobbs paid them the promised $100 bonus, a sum that came in handily as both Charlie and Chuck were admitted into the care of the good doctors at Ashton Hospital with knife wounds allegedly incurred during a mugging attempt. They are currently resting and recuperating, leaving Joseph in possession with both Corbitt’s journals and the mysterious amulet at his farmstead.

Wildwyck County: The Case of the Haunted House: Part III

Despite this turn of events, the trio decided to venture into the house on Willow Street. Parking outside, they approached the home, its curtains drawn as if to protect its gruesome secrets. With the key Mr. Dobbs had given them, they entered to see a gloomy hallway stretching from the front door to the rear of the house. A pair of French doors stood on their right, open to reveal the living room beyond. A trio of doors stood along the left wall of the hallway, the portals shut tight to protect their contents. The air was stale and dusty, with a faint hint of rotting food beneath it.

The investigators began with the living room, discovering it to be filled with numerous crucifixes and Catholic icons—even more so than could be expected in the home of devout Italian immigrants. Seemingly out of place amongst the religious paraphernalia was an outré painting that hung on the far wall. The piece was an odd mixture of style. It depicted the unmistakable Catskill Mountains to the northwest, their profiles easily identifiable to residents of the area. However, beyond those picturesque peaks was an abstract image that gave the impression of being a city of glittering gossamer drifting amongst the mist-shrouded mountains. Checking the painting closely, the signature “Nelson Blakely” was discovered. Who was this gifted painter and why was his work both evocative and slightly unsettling?

Connected to the living room was a modest dining room, its mahogany table set for dinner for three. A soup tureen sat on its dusty surface and another door beyond led out of the room, presumably to the kitchen. The scent of rot was stronger here and the investigators chose to move deeper into the house, discovering the kitchen and signs that rats had been at the pantry.

Exiting the kitchen, they entered the main hall to find themselves at the far end of the house. A set of stairs led to the second floor, while another closed door stood across from them. This door was sealed tightly—someone had installed a lock and no less than three deadbolts on the door. Besides the stairs was another door that led into the house’s mudroom. Old coats, buckets of coal, and a door leading outside were within this room, and the investigators noted that the exterior door also bore three deadbolts and two locks. Some resident of the house was concerned about his or her safety to paranoid levels.

The two well-secured doors made the three realize they had never inspected the inside of the front door, and they returned to the front of the house to do so, finding four deadbolts—rather new ones—to have been installed there as well. As they were yet unwilling to ascend the stairs, the three started with the first closed door off of the main hall.

The room beyond was stacked with junk: old water tanks, broken bicycles, rusting pipes, and other bits of trash that had accumulated in the house since its construction. Against one wall was a set of cabinets, sealed tightly by 2x4s nailed across its doors. The investigators attacked the lumber with their pry bars, suspecting that something of value or interest lay concealed within.

As they did so, a loud, booming, pounding was heard from upstairs as if an angry fist was pummeling the floorboards above. Charlie cried out nervously, “We’re getting into your cabinets and there’s nothing you can do about it!” The thumping repeated itself.

Chuck continued to attack the cabinets while Charlie and Joseph watched. With the screech of rusted nails coming loose, the last piece of wood was pulled free and the cabinets opened. Inside were three small books, dusty and dropped askew on the bare shelves within. These tomes were gathered with some caution and the sounds above ceased.

Charlie inched down the hallway, drawing his .38 revolver and taking up position at the bottom of the stairs. Joseph and Chuck proceeded to check the next room, only to find more junk: smashed furniture, broken boards, and other detritus bound for the fireplace. Chuck grabbed a long board, hefting it in his hands.

As the three reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of scratching, long nails dragged across a hard surface began from the floor above, causing Charlie to rush from the house in a panic. The remaining two stared up the flight of stairs before grimly making their ascent. Charlie hovered by the front door, watching his friends vanish from sight. At the top of the stairs, Chuck and Joseph discovered another long hallway running the length of the house. Four doors stood along the left side of the hall; the right side was pierced with three curtained windows that let only a trace of sunlight into the house. Advancing to the second door from the stairs, the one from which the scratching seemed to be coming from, they tentatively grasped the handle.

The sounds stopped.

Pausing to steel their nerves, they opened the door to find a Spartan room beyond. A large bed, lacking a mattress stood against one wall. A chest of drawers occupied a corner next to a closed window. From the ceiling dangled a single bare bulb, swaying gently at the end of its cord.

As they stood in the doorway, the sound of tapping was heard. It seemed to come from across the room, near the shut window. Chuck threw the light switch, but the house was without power. Joseph stepped into the room cautiously and approached the window while Chuck covered him. Reaching the window, Joseph gazed out the pane, looking for the source of the tapping.

The bed frame lurched across the room, carving long scratches in the dry floorboards as it sped towards Joseph like a locomotive. The surprised Pole threw himself out of its path, missing being hurled through the window to the grounds below by inches! The iron frame crashed into the plaster wall, creating a spider web of cracks throughout the plaster around the window. As Joseph climbed to his feet, blood began to flow in rivulets from the shattered plaster. The two rushed down the stairs, nearly crashing into Charlie who had crept back into the house after the sounds ceased. The three poured out the mudroom door and ran down the alleyway to take cover behind their parked vehicles.

After a long pause and several nervously smoked cigarettes, the trio resolved themselves to re-entering the house and searching the remaining upstairs rooms. They returned to the upstairs before fear could overwhelm them again.

In the second floor hallway, they began to open the curtains to allow more light in and it was then that they noticed that someone had nailed the windows shut. As they had to put the “haunted room” behind them in order to explore the rest of the second floor, there was concern about possible routes of escape. Charlie produced his pry bar and began to break each window, clearing the glass from the frame as Joseph and Chuck started with the far room.

That room turned out to be the master bedroom: a queen-sized bed, more religious statuary, a bible, and dressing table lay within. As the approached a bookshelf on one wall, the two noticed that the sound of breaking glass had stopped. Chuck turned in time to see Charlie put down his pry bar on the window sill, reach down and grip a handful of jagged glass. Slowly, as if sleepwalking, Charlie opened his mouth and started to raise the razor-sharp shards to his face, intending to eat the broken glass. Chuck launched himself across the hall, tackling Charlie to the ground before he could dine on his possibly fatal meal. Joseph came out of the bedroom at his heels just as the door to the haunted room began to rattle in its jam, shaking as if in the grip of hurricane winds. The two gripped the dazed private eye between them and dragged him towards the stairs. As they passed the thundering door, they glimpsed blood oozing from beneath it to pool in the hallway. That was enough for the intrepid investigators and they fled from the house, rousing Charlie from his inattentive state, and then driving out of town to seek sanctuary at Joseph’s farm…

Wildwyck County: The Case of the Haunted House: Part II

On the morning of Thursday the 7th, the trio once again met at Joe’s Cup & Saucer to plan their day’s excursions. In light of the discovery beneath the ruined chapel, a descent was in order, but more research was warranted before they placed their lives on the line in that crumbling cellar. Charlie, having had dealings with Wesley Carroll at the Sentinel, knew that he was off on Thursdays and that the investigators might have better luck accessing the morgue with him away from the desk. Also, further information regarding the Chapel of Contemplation’s conflict with Ashton’s Finest was needed, which meant a trip down the local constabulary headquarters.

The three men arrived at the Sentinel and found that Carroll was nowhere in sight. In his place was Steven “Sparky” McDowell, the paper’s intern and would-be newshound. Enthusiastic to a fault and somewhat uninformed regarding the paper’s policy on restricted access, Sparky obligingly got the investigators to the dingy back room that contained the paper’s archives. There, the men found further confirmation of the stories that Jim Dooley had spun at his newsstand the previous day as well as another article that never saw print. This one told of a French family, the LeFevres, who occupied the house on Willow Street in 1880 only to move out when the parents died and three of the children became crippled in violent accidents. The house stood vacant from then until 1909.

Leaving the Sentinel’s offices before being discovered, the trio went to Ashton’s central police station to see if they could access the records concerning the 1912 raid. Luckily for them, the desk sergeant on duty was Sergeant Richard “Dickie” Schultz, a cop that Charlie had dealt with in the past, sharing information and sometimes money in exchange for leads in his private cases.

Dickie had been a cop in Ashton for several years, but had no knowledge of the 1912 raid—a fact which allowed the investigators to look at files that seemed to cover a minor event in a closed case. Pursuing the official records brought new light on the Chapel as well as unnerving implications.

In 1912, the police collected several affidavits from Drybog residents implicating the Chapel of Contemplation in a series of missing children cases. A raid was launched on the Chapel, during which three policemen were killed and seventeen cult members died in either gunplay or fire. Fifty-four church members were arrested, including Pastor Michael Thomas, but only eight were ever convicted and sentenced. Pastor Thomas was given 40 years in the Snake Hill Penitentiary on five counts of second-degree murder, but escaped in 1917. His whereabouts are currently unknown.

Although this was all very surprising to the three long-term residents of the Ashton environs, even more disturbing was evidence that there had been a cover-up. The autopsy reports on the slain church members were all cursory, lacking common details usually found in such reports. This indicated that the medical examiner had not actually performed autopsies—he merely filled in the forms and swept the deaths under the rug. Other evidence in the official reports hinted that the entire raid had been silenced by a local official with some influence, explaining why the biggest criminal action in Ashton’s recent history was entirely unknown by its citizens. Who was involved and why they hid the raid was not clear. It might warrant more investigation at a later date.

In a related note, the file contained an aged news clipping going back to the previous century. The brief news item mentioned a similar raid conducted against the Congregational Church of Rotskill, NY in 1731; another lead or a further smokescreen?

Departing the police station with this knowledge, the investigators stopped at a local hardware store to acquire a coil of rope, pry bars, and a trio of electric torches. They piled into their vehicles and returned to the ruined chapel in Drybog. After ascertaining they were unobserved, Chuck and Joseph shimmied down a rope to explore the sodden cellar, leaving Charlie to keep an eye out for anyone seeking to stop them.

The cellar was damp and moldy. Ankle-deep water had seeped into the basement over the last eight years and the hole above let in scant illumination. Throwing their torch beams about, the duo perceived a blocky pair of filing cabinets in one corner and a massive, mold-covered desk in another. Near the writing table were two piles of rotted cloth, protruding from the stagnant water like mildewed islands.

The filing cabinets drew their attention first, and rifling through them uncovered a sheaf of decaying church records. Compiling all the partially-filled drawers into a single one, the two tied a rope to the drawer and Charlie hauled it out of the basement to be examined in detail later.

The desk proved empty, but chained to its surface was a massive folio bound in mildew-stained leather. The rusted restraint was easily broken and the tome carefully removed from the site. The two basement spelunkers then discovered that the piles of cloth contained the sodden bones of humans; perhaps church members who perished in the 1912 raid and whose remains lay undiscovered in the Chapel’s basement until now. Keeping a cautious eye on the bones, Joseph and Chuck scampered out of the basement and the three departed the site to sift through their finds.

Taking the records and book back to Joseph’s farm, the three quickly learned that the church records were precisely that: daily accounts pertaining to the operation of a religious institution. However, nestled amongst the mundane accounts was a small journal. Written partially in a cipher to hide the identities of various cult members, the investigators were nevertheless able to discern the name Corbitt amongst the alias. Specifically it was written that Walter Corbitt was buried in the basement of his home “in accordance with his wishes and with the wishes of that one who waits in the dark.” At last! A break in the case!

Elated to fine a possible cause of the house’s unsettling difficulties, the three turned their attentions to the large, leather-bound tome. Unfortunately for the three, none of whom graduated high school, the archaic Latin that the book was written in proved indecipherable. As it was beyond their own skills to decipher, the investigators decided to bring in an outsider to assist them.

Piling back into their cars, the three drove back to Ashton to pay a visit to St. Michael’s, the most prominent Catholic church in town. There they introduced themselves to Father Theodore Sullivan, a long-time resident and priest. Claiming that they were employed by a collector of rare books, the three told the good Father that they were hired to ascertain the authenticity of this particular book after their employer purchased it in an estate sale. Father Sullivan examined the book carefully before declaring it to be in Medieval Latin and seemed to contain certain instructions. It would take some work, but he could likely make heads or tails of the old book in a few days—at least enough to provide the three with a summary of its contents for their employer. The investigators agreed and left the book in Father Sullivan’s care.

With time to kill while the priest translated the ancient text, Joseph headed down to Ashton’s Templeton Price Memorial Library on Castle Ave. Within its quiet environs, Joseph found Miss Agatha Coleridge, the library’s foremost reference librarian. Producing his journal, Joseph showed Miss Coleridge the symbol he copied from the chapel’s crumbling walls. Together, the two consulted the library’s scant occult collection to no avail. Just as Joseph was about to give up hope, Miss Coleridge declared that she had an associate at one of Newgrave’s larger repositories of knowledge and that she’d be willing to forward the symbol to him and see if his library’s collection could shed more light on its origins. Unfortunately, the process would take a week or so. With no other options, Joseph agreed.

It was Saturday the 9th when the three finally decided to enter the house. Knowing that there were reported phenomenon on the second floor of the house and that Corbitt’s earthly remains were likely interred in the building’s basement, those two locations were deemed the most probable places to focus their investigation. To be safe, the trio staged a watch on the building from the late hours of Friday afternoon into Saturday morning. Working in shift to observe the house, they discovered that no one entered the place, nor were there signs of activity within its old brick walls.

Prior to their entrance, they reassembled at Joe’s Cup & Saucer to compose a missive to their employer, Mr. Dobbs, informing him that they had a break in the case and expected to have an answer soon. They finished breakfast and returned to St. Michael’s to see if Father Sullivan had completed his survey of the archaic text.

Arriving at the church, they were greeted by Father Andrew Dewey, the assistant priest at St. Michael’s. Father Dewey revealed to the three that Father Sullivan has departed the church abruptly the previous day, explaining that he received word that his sister was deathly ill and he was rushing to her bedside. Father Dewey expressed some surprise at this turn of advents, as Father Sully had never mentioned that he had siblings in the years the two had worked together. The investigators inquired about the book they had entrusted with the good Father, but Father Dewey could provide no information other than he knew nothing about such a text and that there was no such tome in Father Sullivan’s quarters in the rectory. Needless to say, this was very distressing to the three and they begged Father Dewey to alert them the instant he learned of Father Sullivan’s current whereabouts…

Wildwyck County: The Case of the Haunted House: Part I

The movement of posts from one blog to another continues. This is a recap of the events of a session of Call of Cthulhu set in Wildwyck County that occurred last summer. The tale plays out over several parts.

I haven’t mentioned it here, but I’ve been given the opportunity to run Call of Cthulhu as the backup game in my local group whenever the current referee needs a break. Our first session was on July 10th and I’ll be running it again on August 14th. This is giving me the opportunity to try out some of the material to be featured in the upcoming Fight On! article as well as scratch my itch for non-fantasy roleplaying—which is very, very nice.

I’m keeping things simple, allowing much of the campaign to develop based on the investigators’ actions and interactions with the surrounding environs. For our first session, we had three PCs and I used the Call of Cthulhu Quick Start to get things rolling. This gave me the chance to finally run “The Haunted House” scenario that had launched a thousand campaigns and appeared in every edition of CoC ever produced. I’ve always wanted to run it, but whenever I had the chance, the players were already familiar with it. At long last, with three neonates to Call of Cthulhu around the table, I finally got my wish.

The players loved it and what was intended to be a one-shot got the official go ahead to be the alternate game. I’m already looking forward to the next session. Since I’m letting the campaign develop organically, there is the need to document the events of the sessions in more detail than I’m used to. Any one of the NPCs, events, or items encountered can have great influence down the line. What follows is the first installment of my recollection of the inaugural session’s events. It quite long, so I’ve split it into several posts. If you are adverse to post game reports, you may want to skip the next few postings here at Secret Antiquities.

Also, be advised that many spoilers for “The Haunted House” scenario (later changed to “The Haunting”) appear below. If you’ve never played through that investigation, you may want to skip these posts as well. For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy this recounting of a most successful gaming session…

The year was 1920. The Great War was over and the Spanish Flu was in its death throes. Faced with so many reminders of their own mortality, it is no wonder that humanity found itself caught up in the Spiritualism movement, convinced that the shroud that separated the living and the dead could be breached by the common man. Séances, salons, and orators expounding on the secrets of the dead drew great numbers, especially in the pastoral town of Ashton, NY.

Moving amongst this local Spiritualist scene were three simple men, different in background and standing, but brought into friendly acquaintance by a shared interest in supernatural matters. Having become familiar through the regular séances held at Madam Grace’s riverside home, Chuck Adams, Joseph Bronowski, and Charlie Kovelček demonstrated that Spiritualism was no elitist pursuit. They were not learned men: Mr. Adams was one of a dying breed, a hunter and trapper who eked out a living in the wooded Catskills much like the settlers of old, relying on his wits and outdoormanship to earn his keep. Mr. Bronowski was also a man of the common clay, a farmer whose small parcel of land outside of Ashton’s limits provided him with his livelihood. Only Mr. Kovelček dwelt full time in town, earning his daily bread as a private detective specializing in photographing citizens engaged in activities they’d prefer to keep out of the public eye.

The events that took place on and around the week of October 5th-12th, 1920 began with a phone call to Charlie Kovelček. The man on the other end was Mr. Fletcher Dobbs, a well-to-do local entrepreneur who owned and leased several properties around Ashton. Mr. Dobbs was a lodge brother to Charlie’s cousin, Adam, and that family member has suggested his shamus cousin after hearing of Mr. Dobbs’ recent troubles. Hesitant to speak in more detail over the phone, Mr. Dobbs arranged a meeting with Charlie the following day at Joe’s Cup & Saucer, a popular diner on Palisade Ave. Mr. Dobbs suggested that if Charlie had any associates knowledgeable about inexplicable events he might wish to bring them along.

At 1 PM the following day, Charlie, Chuck, and Joseph sat at a booth at Joe’s awaiting their would-be employer. Mr. Dobbs arrived precisely on time, sliding through the door at Joe’s like a predatory fish swimming amongst guppies. His suit was pressed, his hair immaculate, and his pencil-moustache as neat as a scalpel incision. He spotted the trio instantly and took a seat in the booth.

His problem was simple in theory: Misfortune had struck a young Eye-talian couple, the Macarios, renting one of his properties on 1735 Willow St. in the questionable neighborhood of Drybog. The husband had gone inexplicitly mad a year ago, leaving the young mother alone at home with two young boys. Then, one month ago and just as abruptly, the mother had tried to stab the children to death. The boys fled the house with minor injuries and the police arrested the woman immediately thereafter. Both she and her husband were now patients at the Frost Hollow Asylum some hours south of town.

Mr. Dobbs admitted that he had heard certain rumors about the property prior to his purchase of it three years ago, but the house’s price was simply too good to pass up. He had done some minor renovations before renting it to the unlucky Macarios two years ago. In the wake of the recent events, Dobbs stated that he had heard the neighbors say that Mrs. Macario wouldn’t go into a certain second floor bedroom and that each family member claimed to have glimpsed an indistinct humanoid form with burning eyes in the home on different occasions.

This left Dobbs in an unfortunate situation. Although dismissive of the tales that the home was haunted, he was nevertheless unwilling to rent the property out again without getting to bottom of things. When he had complained to his lodge brother, he was given Charlie’s number and told that he was reliable, discrete, and had some familiarity with unusual phenomenon. If Mr. Kovelček, Mr. Bronowski, and Mr. Adams were willing to investigate the building and determine what was going on (and, should it prove to be more than simple hallucinations, deal with the problem), they would be paid a princely sum of $20 a day plus a $100 bonus on settling the problem to Mr. Dobbs’ satisfaction. With money like that being offered, the trio could hardly pass on the offer and readily accepted.

As it was mid-afternoon by the time their meeting adjourned, the men decided that a quick trip to the Ashton Hall of Records was all they had time for and piled into Charlie’s Model T. Passing by the New Town Hall, an impressive Greek Revival edifice that was completed, but now the subject of an investigation on official misappropriation of funds, the men pulled up in front of Old Town Hall, a former river captain’s palatial home turned public building. Descending down to the basement, they waved to Cecile, the records clerk, and began requesting public documents pertaining to the property at 1735 Willow.

After four hours of requests and pouring over the public records (and a very kind records clerk keeping the office open after closing), they had discovered scant information regarding the property. It had been constructed in 1835 by a prosperous merchant named Meriwether, but he sold the property soon thereafter to a Mr. Walter Corbitt, esquire after falling ill. Corbitt seemed to have remained in the home until at least 1852 when his neighbors brought a lawsuit against him, seeking to evict him from the neighborhood “in consequence of his surious [sic] habits and unauspicious demeanor.” The trio was unable to learn the outcome of the lawsuit before Cecile insisted the Hall of Records was closed for the evening.

With a little daylight remaining, the investigators decided to drive past the Willow St. location to glimpse the house firsthand. The house stood in Drybog, a section of former swampland drained in the early 1800s to make room for the expanding town. It remained a lower class neighborhood despite attempts to gentrify the area. A pair of recently constructed office buildings flanked the saltbox Dutch Colonial building, making it seem like an old, angry dog lurking between towering oaks. The neighboring buildings were all large homes that had been partitioned into separate small apartments rented by immigrant families or the nearly destitute. The only sign of life was a small newspaper and cigar stand that was in the process of closing.

The three stopped to chat with the proprietor of the newsstand who introduced himself as Jim Dooley, a resident of Drybog for over twenty years. The amicable Mr. Dooley was able to provide more information on the house and its unlucky former residents. In 1909, three people died in the Sheehan family, the residents of the property at that time. In 1914, the Schulyers lived in the home. Tragedy struck when their oldest boy, Bill, went crazy and killed himself with a butcher’s knife. And in ’17 or ’18, a third family had took residency, but moved out almost immediately after. The investigators thanked the loquacious Mr. Dooley before heading to their separate residences with the intent to start the investigation anew on the morrow.

Wednesday saw them back at the Hall of Records, this time searching for more information on Corbitt and the lawsuit. To speed up their efforts, Chuck Adams decided to check the “morgue” at the Ashton Sentinel, the local daily newspaper, to see if he could uncover any additional information regarding the house during the years between 1852 and 1909. Unfortunately for Mr. Adams, the clerk at the Sentinel was Wesley Carroll, a notorious stick-in-the-mud who was unwilling to let anyone down into the paper’s morgue unless they bore a letter of reference from the Mayor or a phone call from the Sentinel’s editor. Even Mr. Adam’s generous offer of $5 to look the other way failed to alter the prissy clerk’s resolve. Chuck departed and rejoined his fellows back at the Hall of Records.

After being informed by Cecile that she would not be remaining open for one second after 5 PM, the three delved back into the public record. The search was long and painstaking, but fruitful. It was discovered that Corbitt won the lawsuit that attempted to drive him out of the area. In addition, they learned that he died in 1866 and that the executor of his will was a Reverend Michael Thomas, pastor of the Chapel of Contemplation & Church of Our Lord Granter of Secrets. Further research determined that the Chapel closed in 1912 after an unspecified police action against the church. As it was getting late (and Cecile was giving them an evil glare), the three decided to drive past the Church before calling it an night. They traveled once again to the Drybog section of town and found the Chapel’s address at 11 West Creek Street.

West Creek Street ran through an even gloomier and more deserted section of the neighborhood than Willow St. Boarded-up windows faced the leave-strewn road and the Chapel turned out to be nothing more than collapsing masonry walls in the middle of an overgrown lot. Parking their cars, the investigators cautiously approached the falling stone walls and spread out. A splash of white deep inside the former church caught their attention and they entered to discover what it was. As they crossed the decrepit floor, a portion of the rotten boards gave way beneath Chuck and nearly dropped him into the damp cellar beneath the former chapel. Only his quick wits and a nearby standing column saved him for a probable broken leg. Looking down into the hole, the investigators sighted ancient furnishings in a basement filled with shallow standing water. It was decided that the cellar could wait for daylight before being explored.

At the far side of the chapel, the splash of white turned out to be a freshly painted symbol. A trio of Y-shaped lines formed a pyramid with an eye painted in its center. And although Joseph knew that both the pyramid and eye were potent occult symbols, this particular arrangement was unknown to him. Charlie snapped a photograph of the symbol while Joseph copied it into a small journal he carried. Scouring the area for more evidence uncovered a single set of footprints leading to and away from the paint, but no other indications of who painted the sigil. The three departed, planning to return when daylight was on their side…