New Goblinoid Games Playtesting Underway

Regular readers will remember that I hinted at (well, OK, blatantly plugged) the fact that I've written a new game for Goblinoid Games using the Pacesetter System. As of today, the playtest document is now open to Labyrinth Lord Society members. If you want to get in on the action, you'll need to sign certain documents writ in the burning blood of Orcus and become a Labyrinth Lord Society member.

The following except is from the email that went around to Society members this morning. If it piques your interest, why not go to the LLS page and sign up!

I'm looking for playtesters for a new Pacesetter System game developed by Michael Curtis. The genre is urban fantasy, particularly of the dark urban magic variety.

Playtesters will receive credit in the book and free PDFs of the final release.

In order to be a playtester you need to have a currently active gaming group willing to play, and be willing to commit to playing three sessions before September 1st. I would also ask that the GM submit a playtest report, briefly describing your experience running the game and any comments by the players. Ideally you will already have played similar games like TIMEMASTER, ROTWORLD, SANDMAN, etc., but this is not mandatory.

I'm really excited about this game! I think Michael Curtis has done a great job with it.

Dan Proctor

Goblinoid Games

In Case You Missed It

You might have seen that Goblinoid Games is continuing to gobble up Pacesetter titles for re-printing and to create new games using the Action Table system. Buried in the most recent announcement that Dan Proctor has acquired Sandman: The Map of Halaal (I put him in a head-lock at Gary Con and refused to release him until he agreed to buy it) was this:

Looking for more Pacesetter System^TM games? Michael Curtis has just finished writing and playtesting an all new game using this system. It will be opened for additional playtesting very soon to members of the Labyrinth Lord Society!

I can't release any details until Dan makes a formal announcement, but let me just say I had a blast writing this one. If I could only tell you some of the weird-ass books I used as reference material on it... I was worried I went a little too far into Bat Country, but so far, those who have seen the game really dig it. Forget D&D Next! Sign up to become a member of the Labyrinth Lord Society and get a first-look and chance to playtest it before it hits the shelves!

The October Country: The Cargo Cult

Those residents of the October Country who originally hail from Earth know of the cargo cults that arose in South Pacific following the Second World War. However, those born in the Autumnal Lands are aware of another quasi-religious phenomenon that shares the same name.

Signs of the cult are not common, but do pervade almost every known trade route and method throughout the October Country. On rattling railcars bound for the Lightning Lands, on moss-covered boats plying the Snakewater Swamp, and on the beasts of burden driven by the nuleskinners of the Brackish, the signs are there: parcels, crates, and barrels chipped with travel and bearing any number of near-illegible labels and mystic symbols. Always treated with care, these containers move from town to town, never finding a final address at anyplace they go.

The origin of the cult is uncertain, but scholars have pieced together some background. In his work Transient Religions Under the Frost Moon, Professor Caspar Gellkillerson records the most commonly told tales regarding the cargo cult and is considered the primary reference source for all theologians interested in the study of this religion.

According to Gellkillerson, the cargo cult began when a large packing crate bearing certain High Magic sigils of protection was laden onto a wagon bound for the City of Candles. When the wagon arrived in the city, it was learned that the addressee had died, leaving no next of kin to receive it. The caravan master, as is custom, could claim the crate and all it contained as his own if no legal claimant was found. After a week passed with no such challenger appearing, the caravan master paid a magician to inspect the symbols prior to opening the crate. Upon seeing the glyphs, the magician backed away in fear and warned the caravan master that powerful protective charms were in place, ones that spelled doom for whoever dared to open the box if they were not “of the selected brood.”

The caravan master tried unsuccessfully to pass the crate onto other unsuspecting parties, but they always became aware of the warnings protecting the crate and refused to take it off of his hands. Finally, in desperation, the caravan master had it shipped back to its town of origin, thus beginning a process that continues to this day.

The crate arrived back from whence it came, but the original shipper could not be found. The poor depot clerk who accepted the crate soon found himself in the same situation as the caravan master. It took him two weeks, but he eventually smuggled the crate onto a riverboat headed north and dusted his palms of the problem. In each new place the crate arrived, the process was repeated and the box, now showing signs of wear and tear, and covered with faded shipping labels, continues its endless journey looking for someone “of the selected brood” to take possession of it once and for all.

In time, other containers joined the original crate under similar situations. Some are no doubt “copy cat” shipments sent by pranksters who heard the tale of the crate and mocked up their own with fake sigils and blatantly erroneous addressees, but others bear the same fearful warnings etched upon their wooden exteriors. More telling that these containers were of legitimate origin was the effects produced when two or more crates found themselves in close proximity in a warehouse, riverboat, or railcar.

When multiple containers come near one another, unnatural events occur. Spontaneous growths of vegetation, chilling fog banks, whispered songs sung in unidentifiable tongues, and other happenings have been reported. These so-called miracles were what created the first of the Cargo Cultists—men and women who reported seeing visions, receiving supernatural healing, and other mystical revelations when near the containers. These cultists continue their strange religion, often acting as unofficial (and often unwanted) guardians of these containers as they make their endless journeys. When several containers appear at the same location (always by happenstance for the Cultist never act to guide the boxes on their travels or determine where or when they will arrive), tent revivals spring up to attract the few but fervent believers the Cult has. There, the devoted witness miracles and testify about the coming of the One the Crates are Destined For.

The Cargo Cult is tolerated, mostly because they keep to themselves, pay the costs of keeping the crates moving, and are not a violent or proselytizing sect. They’re nevertheless considered one of the weirder religions in the Autumnal Lands and associating with it adherents (or worse, joining them) is a sure way to damage one’s prestige.

The October Country: The Epistolarians

Everyone knows that the art of writing letters is a dying one. In a world dominated by email, Twitter, and texting, the elegant pastime of communicating on personalized stationary is as obsolete as the 8-track. Unless it’s power you’re after.

Located throughout the world are members of the cabal know as the Epistolarians. Although this group has no centralized location and its members have never met, the Epistolarians are one of the most respected and fear power blocs active in the Periphery. With nothing more than pen and paper, the Epistolarians have thwarted the schemes of Nightmare, altered the plans of mundane governments, and permanently rid themselves of their enemies. The Epistolarians know that by putting something in writing, one can make it a reality.

Although their exact methods are unknown to outsiders, it is believed that the Epistolarians adorn their missives with the secret names of their targets and certain symbols of power known only to them and the long-dead scribes of antiquity who discovered those sigils. These letters are then exchanged amongst the members of the cabal via ordinary post. As the letters travel and are handled by each link in the postal system, they accrue power. These letters are often sent back and forth between Epistolarians several times, growing more and more potent with each exchange. Once the required power has accumulated, the letter is opened and read aloud, its written contents becoming reality with that act.

Even more feared, however, are the letters that are not read. It is said that when the Epistolarians want to remove someone from the world—either the mundane one or the October Country—a letter detailing the life of the victim is written. This letter is then exchanged as usual, but at the culmination of the rite, the letter is destroyed—as is the subject of the letter. Despite the longevity and wide-spread belief of this rumor, there is no way to confirm it because there simply is no evidence. If the rumor is true, this method of destroying an adversary is so efficient it removes all traces of the subject having ever existed, making is as if they had never been born at all.

Although the Epistolarians maintain a veil of secrecy expected of a Peripheral power, a hint of their power has leaked into the mainstream. The birth of the chain letter can be traced to individuals who heard hints of the Epistolarians ability and sought to duplicate it for themselves. Although they weren’t successful, some of the mystique of and belief in graphomancy became a garbled urban legend.