Oddscrawl

The Ever Lord: When Aeolams Change

Sat, 03 Oct 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Had there ever been a place in the Empire that Sarisa had expected to see less than the Ever Palace?

Had she hoped to never see it? No other place in the Empire so embodied the rot, the disgust, the hate she felt for the towering machine of titles and pleasantries that had done such horrible things to her and her family.

No, there was one place that embodied it more…

“Smile, love,” Luran’s sotto voice broke through her thoughts. “Don’t give them fodder to feed on.”

It disgusted Sarisa too, how easy the fake smile was. By every right, she should have been furious, distraught, terrified…no, she should have been there. She should be with Ladymaid Aisha as the world did…whatever it did.

The Ever Lord: The Lost Scow

Sat, 26 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Raugraf Tania Maar despised negotiation. It was nothing but words covering displays of force. It was deception, begging, and the winner was the one who hid the most. It was war without the clean dividing lines of strength and strategy.

Their disc had landed on one of the free platforms of the Ever Palace’s Port Tower. The disc had held her, the Relic Keeper, and seven of the devices they had extracted from the sunken wreckage; a sampling of what remained in the hold.

Now they stood on the landing walk that separated the tower from the platform, the devices all arrayed neatly in two lines like a parade of soldiers. They glinted in the daylight, a phalanx of holy machines and ancient technology.

The Ever Lord: Ashtree Arrested

Sat, 19 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Mura had never seen a Vessel-ship before.

She had heard stories from her uncles and aunts who had traveled to the distant Port City. They described what glimpses they caught of ships rising into the mists, vanishing into the Velvet with a crackling hum.

When she was younger, her grandmother told her the Old Tales, until her father demanded she stop. Mura still remembered, though, the stories of monstrous wizards from behind the Aspectured Wall who traveled the Velvet in spheres of glass. She could clearly see in her mind’s eye the golden boats with silk sails all bedecked with small metal coins that drifted lazily between the ice crystals. She shivered at the idea of giant beasts with broad bodies and their barbarian riders who drove them between the Worlds.

The Ever Lord: The Hopes of a Quill-Servant

Sat, 12 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The duties of the Quill-Servants of the Ever Palace were legion. They were the clerks, note-takers, scribes, and historians. There was never a time when there was nothing to do, and the Librarian kept all of them working like tireless ants.

Of course, they did tire — a fact the Librarian was reluctant to acknowledge — and eventually the number of mistakes and unreliable work forced the rules of the Hall of Record to change.

Every Quill-Servant had a guaranteed rest period, as well as a limit to the days spent doing a specific job. The servants were rotated between different tasks to keep their minds sharp, and they were never assigned to the same duty twice in a row, no matter the need.

Slowing Down

Tue, 08 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

You ever hear the story about pots?

It goes like this: a teacher tells one group of students they will be graded on how many pots they make in a pottery class, while another group will be graded on the quality of one pot. At the end of the semester, the best pots all came from the group being graded on number, rather than quality.

It’s a parable about quantity vs. quality, about how spending time focusing on the qualities of a single product may hamper your growth, while experience and failure can be excellent teachers. It’s about getting wrapped up in details as opposed to finishing your art and moving on. It’s beloved by all art-teachers and life-coaches and people who love quippy parables over the ugly trench-warfare of creating art.

That said, this is one of those parables that can be twisted to mean different things by adding or removing details. When I say “best pots,” for instance, what do I mean? The ones with the shiniest glazing? Most resistant to breaking? The ones voted best by the class? The ones the teacher liked the best? Adjusting or defining the term can really change the message.

The Ever Lord: A Dangerous Heresy

Sat, 05 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Imperial Vessel-ship Blessing of Harvest was cold. It was an odd feeling for the Bulquis Renner Torvis, who had commanded entire military campaigns from its marbled interior.

Usually the ship was quite comfortable, cool at worst. The Velvet’s winds were rarely too hot or too cold. The old Priest-sailors considered such temperatures as ill omens.

Renner stood on the Royal Balcony, staring out over the railing down towards the pale white of the Fifth World. He had heard many years ago that beyond the Aspectured Wall, the strange people named their worlds. He had thought it was an odd idea, and time had not mellowed his opinion. Perhaps, he thought, the idea held more merit when there were more than five worlds.

Myriad Worlds: Euili

Thu, 03 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Of all the folk across the Myriad Worlds, I felt the greatest trepidation about writing of the Euili. While a great deal of scholarly work has been done on the Euili and their culture, virtually none has a more layfolk value. I even attempted to coordinate an interview with an Euili for this book. From such different lands we were, and such different worlds within those lands — I dare say the lowliest Euili are of a higher station in life than even our Countiers and Countesses — that conversation was a constant struggle.

If you have never seen an Euili, feel not alone, for they are among the rarer folk of the Myriad Worlds. As a people, the Euili are nearly uniform in shape and size, enough so that those who are not Euili can find themselves in great confusion when asked to differentiate — a confusion that is not shared by the Euili themselves.

Myriad Worlds: The Archonarcheans

Thu, 03 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Archonarcheans are, without a doubt, one of the most feared people across the Myriad Worlds. At least, they have been, though most of their historical threat has been suppressed in the more recent years, due to the natural progression of time and fading of memory.

Rest assured, for those of us who were alive at the time, there is nothing more terrifying than the looming black-clothed presence of a group of Achonarcheans walking down the street.

For you will never see fewer than two at once. Archonarcheans are perhaps pathologically adverse to solitude or independance, especially in relation to their own. They are recalcitrant, and thickly accented in their speech. There have been many attempts throughout the years to translate the Archonarchean language, but for obvious reasons, they have been unhelpful and the efforts proven fruitless.

Myriad Worlds: The Imwii People

Thu, 03 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Only slightly shorter than an average folk of the Myriad Worlds, the Imwii are, as a group, a most cordial and welcoming people.

Their physical similarity to the folk of the Arcwhite Kingdoms has led many scholars to assume the Imwii are distant cousins to the people of Arcwhite. Others believe this is no more than convergent evolution, while others call this belief a form of physio-centrism.

Imwii are generally believed to be a young people; their society’s history goes back only a few thousand years before available records vanish. There have been countless alternatives floated — the Imwii are offshoots of the Arcwhite people, they are from a different plane of existence, they were created by a new deity to serve some hidden agenda, and more — but general consensus is that the Imwii people simply didn’t bother evolving until recently.

Myriad Worlds: Esquin

Tue, 01 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Esquin, as a people, tend to defy precice definition. This is not only because of their deep and varied culture, distinct and diverse, but also because of their awkward relationship to each other.

Esquin, similar to the Aspanighoraji, tend to avoid others of their own kind. While their behavior can range from disgust to casual dismissal, the fact remains that it is rare to see more than one Esquin in a single place.

Dissimilar to the Aspanighoraji, there is no mystery why this is the case. The Esquin are a mildly psychic people, able to observe the mental and emotional states of other beings to varying degrees of precision. Among other Esquin, however, these innate abilities become much sharper and absorptive.

Myriad Worlds: Zyth

Tue, 01 Sep 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Of all the known races, the Zyth are the ones believed to be the first race of all the Myriad Worlds to travel the Velvet. Evidence of ancient Zyth societies have been discovered on multiple different worlds dating back to before the first Golden Howdah left the ground. There is contrasting evidence with the Insect-folk, of course, but little is reliable when it comes to these hard-skinned folk.

As a people, the Zyth are tall and wide-jointed. Their necks are thicker than their limbs, and crane up and over like those of a Herankadil. Their faces have been compared both to the feline and the porcine, while I myself must interject to say that there is a distinct chiropterine shape to their hairless heads and ears.

The mouth of the Zyth is often cited as the most alien aspect of the Zyth, being vertical in orientation and framed by flexible bony ridges and covered by two mobile lips. The prehensile movement of these “teeth” has made the phrase “a Zyth’s smile” a common idiom for something that illicits vicarious terror or discomfort.

The Ever Lord: An Arrangement of Marriage

Sat, 29 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Empire was a house. Like all good houses, it protected all inside from the storms that raged, from the beasts who hungered, and the dark night that crept closer every hour.

But for a house to be a good house, it needed many things. It needed a strong roof overhead, and a strong roof needed mighty walls and braces. Walls could not stand without a solid foundation and steady floor to stand upon. A good foundation made for good walls, which made for a good roof, which made a good house.

This was the Empire; a house that would stand for Ever and Always. The foundations of every House were the servants. Their work kept the walls of Nobility upright. The Nobility collected the tithes and taxes from their subjects, and used them to raise and support the roof of the Church and the Ever Lord Himself. This was how it had been explained to Navin, how it was explained to children across the Empire.

Myriad Worlds: Aspanighoraji

Thu, 27 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Of all the wonders of the Myraid Worlds, none have retained their mystery more than the Aspanighoraji (pronounced ah SPAN ih go RAJH ee).

The Aspanighoraji are beings of remarkable physical diversity, such that there are few common traits among their people. They are always large and vaguely serpentine or annelidine in the torso. Some have wings, some do not. Some have tiny feet all along their bodies, others do not. They have multiple limbs, or none at all. Some even have faces in their mouths. They alone of all the beings in the Myraid Worlds have five eyes and this is the only sure way of divining who or what is an Apsanighoraji, though there is at least one reliable recorded instance of an Aspanighoraji shifting its body so that its fifth eye was hidden on its back.

Myriad Worlds: Rim-runners

Thu, 27 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Rim-runners is a colloquial term and mis-translation of their name for themselves, the Likvaree.

As a people, the Rim-runners are remarkably diverse, showing a greater spread of shape and size than any other people in the Myriad Worlds. It is not uncommon for two Rim-runners to be so different as to appear to come from two separate species entirely.

The Rim-runners hail from a wide and verdant archipelago in the ocean of Jlich, not seventeen leagues from the Port City of Dwynacha in the Waglenpine. Their culture is a mix of humility, exploration, and fierce devotion to their Wai, a world best translated as something between family and nation.

Myriad Worlds: The Arcwhite Kingdoms

Tue, 25 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

I admit to an uncertainty in adding this section to my guide. At the time of writing, the Arcwhite Kingdoms span multiple worlds and kingdoms, currently maintain no less than five-hundred treaties and alliances, and are inhabited by at least eight billion souls. Add to that the fact that I am writing in the common language of Arcwhite, and that I live, write, and publish within its borders, and it is safe to say that this book’s audience is an answered question.

That is to say, the chances that you are not a member of the Arcwhite Kingdoms is, in a word, small.

Nevertheless, I refuse to buy into the oftentimes unsaid assumption that everyone is a citizen of the Arcwhite Kingdoms, or at the very least is aware of all its customs, mores, and landscapes. As such, I will provide a cross-section here of the culture and mores of this incredible nation.

The Ever Lord: Hatchban, the Esquin Seneschal

Sat, 22 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Hatchban was proud of many things.

He was proud that he was the Seneschal of the Palace of Ever and Always, a servant of incomparable honor. While he had no official power over the nobility that wandered the Palace grounds and resided in the honorable guest rooms, there were few who doubted his authority, and no servant in the Empire could hope to command more respect. Even the meanest noble knew of Hatchban, Seneschal and master of the Palace, and would not dare to hinder or question him in his duties.

He was proud he was the only Esquin in the Ever Palace. By virtue of his people’s natural proclivities, the Ever Lord had commanded that would ever only be one Esquin in the whole of the Ever Palace, and Hatchban had been the one chosen. He knew there were other Esquin who lived in the Five Worlds as citizens of the Empire — even a few on the First World — but they were ephemeral things; rumors and myths at best. The Esquin were a solitary people, and the Lord of Ever and Always had not only accommodated their culture, but chosen Hatchban to represent his people to every noble who crossed the Palace threshold.

Myriad Worlds: Yattrinti

Thu, 20 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Originating in the icy mountains of the Shadow-seas, the Yattrinti are perhaps the most aggressively bizarre people among the Myriad Worlds. Though many profess to know the subtle and intricate details of Yattrinti ettiquite, the most common experience among any of the races of the Myriad Worlds when dealing with Yattrinti is one of cold and callous disregard.

The biology of the Yattrinti is distinctly unique. Much of what we might consider integral to a species nature is belied by the differences between individual Yattrin. For immediate example, the number of tentacles posessed by any Yattrin varies between twelve to twenty. While most Yattrin have a singular row of tentacles around their body, almost twenty percent of Yattrinti possess multiple rows, up to three. Width and angle of tentacle tapering is also highly variable, while length is remarkably consistant.

Skin color ranges from pale green to deep purple, burnt red, or even effervescent blue. There appear to be no colors or patterns more common than any other. However, size and shape of a Yattrin’s central trunk is uniform across individuals. Beak length is likewise consistant, while curvature is not.

Myriad Worlds: The Twenty-Seven Faiths: Part 6

Tue, 18 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

A singular breed of Gilbrim that lives on Ritear, known as the Ohgrim, have an origin tale that has chilled the hearts of thousands: in the beginning years of the land, the Trygim and Gyanim fought a war of ten thousand years.(There are many hundreds of translations for these two names, though most historians believe there is some cultural connection between this war and the legendary war between the Dragons and the Giants.) The greatest and most evil Gyanim was named Gromagorand, and its size was such that it could devour a whole world. When the Trygim King finally drove their claws into Gromagorand’s throat, the blood spilled over the world, and it is from this blood that the Ohgrim were born.

While the Ohgrim perform a kind of worship of Gromagorand, it is a fatalistic and hateful kind of worship. The Ohgrim believe that Gromagorand will return, and unless the Ohgrim are strong enough to fight the war the Trygim failed to finish, Gromagorand will devour Ritear whole. This has led the Ohgrim to live lives of constant warfare and violence as a kind of training, to strengthen their bloodlines and ensure when the Ohgrim are called upon to defend their world, they will not be found weak or wanting.

The Ever Lord: Tania Maar's Offer

Sat, 15 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

A knock on Sarisa’s door pulled her from her thoughts. Wiping her eyes, she stood, tugging at her rumpled dress and brushing her hair back. “Enter,” she commanded, drawing herself up tall and proud.

Her chest relaxed when she saw Aisha peek in from around the door. “Your Excellency, The Countier has returned with her Royal Honor. They await you in the eastern sitting-room”

Sarisa nodded.

For a moment they stood there, staring at each other. In her lover’s eyes, Sarisa could see the fear for her husband as well as the steady calm of the wetland Aeolam. There was so much she wanted to say, but even here, with no one around…

Aisha opened her mouth, and then closed it.

Sarisa took a deep breath and nodded again, slower. Aisha returned the nod, and slowly closed the door.

Vagabond, Sarisa thought fondly as she moved to the large mirror that sat in the corner. Scoundrel and fiend, she mused as she adjusted her dress and reached for a course-hair brush. To leave without asking permission.

It had been a difficult process to make the wetland Aeolam understand the idea of hierarchy. In the end, it was only because of several Aeolam who had lived in other regions of the Second World that they grasped the concept, and even then it was a tenuous grasp.

No, Sarisa knew that Aisha didn’t ask for permission to leave because if she had, Sarisa would not have been able to say yes.

Myriad Worlds: The Twenty-Seven Faiths: Part 5

Thu, 13 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Bloodaxe of Buriip, the Count of Spilled Blood, and the Quantiscain of Ironlock Monastery are monikers given to the quasi-deity of the Buriip faith. Arising from a cultural religion devoted to acts of blood sacrifice, the Buriip faith grew into a widespread organization devoted to conflict and violence.

An apocalyptic religion, the Buriip church engaged in near constant conflict with any and all surrounding cultures for generations. It was not until a resounding loss on the Red Fields of Ressin that the Buriip church was split into two sects; the Church of the Cuirass, and the Followers of Bloodaxe. These sects warred with each other for several centuries, until after a resolute victory by the Followers of Bloodaxe, the Buriip religion was reformed.

Myriad Worlds: The Twenty-Seven Faiths: Part 4

Tue, 11 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Church of Almaythala is an ancient religion, older than most currently practiced faiths. The faith is a monotheistic religion devoted to Almaythala, the Goddess of Many Ears, Shield of the Bowl, and Beloved Mother/Father of All.

So says the Holy Book of Almaythala, the Myriad Worlds were created by Her wondrous hands when she found herself desiring of children. She plucked the ingredients from the ground and minced them together into a fine cake. She fried the cake in a pan of silver, and when it was finished, she squatted over the cake and gave birth to all the peoples of the Myriad Worlds upon it.

Almaythala watched over her children for many years, until they began to war against each other. Despairing of her children, Almaythala tore her cake apart and spread it out among the ice-crystaled Velvet, creating the Myriad Worlds.

The Ever Lord: The Attention of a Raugraf

Sat, 08 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

“My dearest beloved,” Luran asked, leaning back from a device. “I need your eyes and hands.”

Sarisa set her papers aside and stood from her seat. Kneeling down next to her Countier, she peered into the innards of the strange machine. “Here,” Luran pointed. “There is a connection to the lodestone, but the machine still lies silent. What still needs to be done?”

Sarisa stared. She knew few languages of the Second World: she could speak a few chittering words of the Woowaluk that swarmed in the southern swamps, and an assortment of phrases from the wetland Aeolam.

As time had passed, she realized that the Holy Devices of the Ever Lord had a language all their own. She knew where the strange shapes should go, based on where other shapes were put. She understood the flow of wire and the curve of sphere. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.

She still struggled to translate the language of the Ever Lord’s magic into the common language, but she was resolved to try.

Myriad Worlds: The Twenty-Seven Faiths: Part 3

Thu, 06 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

On a far off mountain, distant from any of the known towns of the Myriad Worlds, there sits the giant monastery of Kahch. Scholars have, for many generations, debated how the monastery was built, for its massive size suggests an extensive endeavor, while the surrounding environs show no sign of cultivation or administration to support such a project. There are no roads to the monastery, no small towns nor abandoned ruins, and the tree-choked Savannah allows for no clear caravan paths to the nearest port.

This suggests that the monastery was made by materials from the surrounding land, but the giant stone blocks are not indigenous to the region, and the amount of food required for a team to build such a structure would require nearby farmland, which does not appear to exist.

The Moneyed Monks are a religious sect of mendicants who adhere to the Path of the Coin. There are two major sects of this religion; those of the Bent Back, and the path of Heavy Hands. Both sects claim to be the original faith that was broken away from by their heretical siblings, and each lays claim to the title Moneyed Monks. Both sects have authenticated ancient texts and historical artifacts that support their understanding of the schism. This leads most scholars of the era to believe that neither sect has the whole truth of it.

Myriad Worlds: The Twenty-Seven Faiths: Part 2

Tue, 04 Aug 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Rumrunners have lived longer in the Velvet than most known societies. Of deep importance in their culture is the concept of the Shadow, the dark space left when the light is obscured. The wisest among them believe that the shadows themselves are covering things, and this place underneath is the domain of the Shadows Beneath The Shadows.

The parable of the Lake and the Fisherbird is used to explain the concept. A fish may swim along for its entire life, know every inch of the ponds and riverbeds, but it will know nothing of the sky before a fisherbird spears it with its beak and pulls it into the air. We are the fish in this parable, with the Shadows Beneath the Shadows being the birds.

Interestingly, Rimrunner folklore states that the Shadows aren’t beings of superior power than mortals, simply that they reside in a different kind of space than we do. Were one of us able to travel to this other-space, we too would have the near-divine powers that the Shadows possess.

Vacation Time

Sat, 25 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Hello my fellow rat-goblins!

I am going to be out of town for this coming week, and therefore unable to post as usual. I will continue posting as usual in August.

I hope to see you back here then!

Myriad Worlds: The Twenty-Seven Faiths: Part 1

Thu, 23 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

There are simply too many religious and spiritual practices among the Myriad Worlds to describe with any level of accurate detail. That said, there are many religions that have either great political influence, cultural connections, or similar importance — greater than many other traditions. As such, a band of scholars created the book The Twenty-Seven Faiths, which is a suitable primer for understanding the religious and cultural underpinnings of the Myriad Worlds.

While The Twenty-Seven Faiths hides its section on the High on High in a sidebar, I feel — especially considering the High on High’s connection to the faith of the Tgahio — I will risk their irritation and place my section on the High on High first and foremost.

Myriad Worlds: The Netherthanes of the Shadow-seas

Tue, 21 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Shadow-seas are not a location for casual travel, nor for relaxing vacations. Only the most dedicated explorers and scholars should consider journeying to its ink-tinted lands and sandy waters.

For those who are willing to take the risk, the Shadow-seas are a place of immense history and hidden secrets. Passage is allowed only on special dispensation; the travelers in question must each bear a Writ of Welcome, signed by one of the Netherthanes or their representatives, as well as one of the Netherthanes accepted foreign authorities or their representatives.

Finding a representative of the Netherthanes outside the Shadow-seas can be challenging in itself, never mind finding an authority that is acceptable to the Netherthanes. It is widely accepted that the High on High certainly applies, as does any noble of sufficient standing in the Belle Empire, but few other kingdoms are known to be regularly accepted.

The Ever Lord: A Secret Laboratory

Sat, 18 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Few of the servants in House Di Mattia knew that the sitting room on the top floor of the north wing was kept locked. Fewer knew that only the Countier, Countess, and Ladymaid Aisha held the keys. The few that did know also knew their place, and while curiosity tugged hard at their hearts, they kept their humility and allowed their Nobles their eccentricity.

Sarisa ran through the mansion, stopping only once in a panic when her fumbling failed to produce her key from around her neck. She found it a moment later, where it had bounced from her running. Gripping the key in both hands, she ran once more towards the locked sitting room.

When she reached the doors, she slipped the key into the lock, and entered their laboratory with a fimiliar mix of shame and pride.

Shame, because it was no laboratory worth the name. Indeed, the room’s only claim to the title was little more than intent coupled with a sincere effort. While the servants knew it had once been a sitting room, Sarisa didn’t remember the room’s previous purpose and didn’t much care to. It looked more like a storage room now, with thick wooden tables and chairs placed haphazardly across the floor, filling in the spaces between salvaged objects and their own manufactured equipment.

Pride, becuase it was theirs. Ever since the ruins had been discovered, Sarisa and the Countier had worked tirelessly to tease out their many secrets. Every step had been a new and frightening effort, seasoned with the knowledge that if the Church ever found out, they would be killed for their troubles, or worse.

Myriad Worlds: Insect-Folk

Thu, 16 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

It is difficult to describe the shear variety of insect-folk. It is thought that no less than seventy-nine separate species all fall under the heading of ‘insect-folk’, ranging from the tall and multi-limbed Aradonousi, to the short and carapaced Kkkki. The Xiaba, perhaps the most familiar people of insect-folk, have six subspecies, all distinct in minor ways, none of which are immediately recognizable to any but the most experienced observer of the Insect-Folk people.

As such, it will be incredibly difficult to explore the Insect-folk as a singular culture, though there are similarities and differences between the species that make a seperate section not only possible, but advised.

Myriad Worlds: The Land of Och

Tue, 14 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Land of Och on the World of Tam is mainly famed for three things: its verdant peacefulness, its constant danger, and the ever-present struggle between the two.

It is a common saying in the Myriad Worlds that the Land of Och is trying to kill you, and it is easy to see where this sentiment comes from: the Land of Och possesses several hundred species of plant and animal that survive in a quite violent ecosystem. Even the small and passive keedee-flies that float lazily through the air have a virulent venom that can kill small animals and cause severe and lasting pain in larger ones.

This danger is shared by the weather: raging storms and sudden temperature changes are common in Och during the Hard Seasons, and many unprepared travelers have died to the antagonistic climate.

However, the Soft Seasons are the polar opposite, with temperate climes and mild precipitation. The Still season in particular is named so because even the more aggressive fauna become calmer and less territorial. Add to this the remarkably beautiful landscapes of Och, and you have a World that is both known for its relaxing atmosphere and its ever-present dangers.

The Ever Lord: The Duties of a Countess

Sat, 11 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Countess Sarisa Di Mattia stepped through the opened door, and her heart sank. It was the same every time. She hated her drawing room. The rest of the Di Mattia Mansion was dreary — utilitarian at best — and infused with the staid airs and atmosphere she had grown up with her entire life. But the drawing room…

Alone, out of all the rooms in her father’s mansion, the drawing room had potential.

The fireplace was deep and made of grounstone — the fired mixture of resin, ground silt, and gravel. It felt heavy, squatting in the wall and spewing comfortable heat into the room like a demon. The walls were seasoned wood planks, with the distinctive smell of the forest in high-summer. She presumed some mold or fungus had settled into the planks back when the mansion was built, and now gave the room its distinctive smell. The walls themselves were covered with bookcases as tall as the room itself.

The bookcases…Sarisa grit her teeth as she walked to the closest lounge. The bookcases were abysmal. Only one had any reasonable number of books, and it was only after an evening of re-binding that the books’ contents — if not their covers — held anything of value.

Her eyes danced over the small collection of books. That was one joy she found in the room; she had met a great many lords, ladies, and dignitaries in this room since her father’s death, and none of them knew that the simple boring books that littered the room held heretical contents.

Myriad Worlds: Kit

Thu, 09 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Kit are a thin avian race. Four-armed and therefore four-winged, their leathery lizard-like faces are sprinkled with feathers of varying shades of effervescent green, blue, and red. Skin is leathery and light.

The Kit are sometimes called the ‘underclass’ of the Myriad Worlds. While many presume this is due to a natural genetic failing on the part of the Kit, it is instead due to a great number of misunderstandings and ignorance of the civilized worlds, especially during the first contact with the Kit.

The Kit are a tribal species, living in small groups of no more than fifty. Impressively nomadic, they have little use for large tools, instead creating harnesses and belts to hold what they carry. Claimed ‘spots’ may have makeshift ovens or standing utilities, but such things are luxuries and generally ignored or overlooked by the average Kit.

Myriad Worlds: The ThestleBreak Shore

Tue, 07 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

According to accepted historical record, the ThestleBreak Shore was first discovered by Duchen Yungus, the Bringer of Silk, on his journey to the north. Primary sources place the Duchen on the southwest corner of the shore, traveling north from the Dabadui river. Little remains regarding this discovery, and it is possible little concern was given to this aquanautical marvel. The traveling sages likely were not given time to explore the Shore, as sources claim the Duchen was in a hurry to reach Envik Klain, and continue his campaign against the Marauder King of Red.

Local lore, of course, places the discovery of the ThestleBreak Shore with the colonization of the continent by primitive travelers washed ashore, yet protected by the Shore itself. There is no evidence of this method of colonization, and little concern may be given to this theory.

The Ever Lord: Jhod and Tania Maar

Sat, 04 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

At long last, the Six Bells rang Eve’nbell. The Ever Palace, once as vibrant and active as any anthill, was still and silent. Behind countless wooden doors, the populous of the Ever Palace ate their nighttime meals, finished their journal entries, and bid their fellows goodnight. The day was done, and all were at rest.

All, that is, save the Resolute Lady Tania Maar, Raugraf of the Sixth Region, Knight-Domina of the Twenty-Ninth Infantry Band of Resolution, Knight of the Arrow, and tenth Heir to House Maar.

Tania Maar was filled with anticipation. Tonight, all her plans, her efforts, her accolades and duties came to fruition. Tonight, she would receive her due. Tonight, she was summoned by the Ever Lord himself.

She had no concern over defying the Eve’nbell curfew. To worry would be a sin against the divine command of her Ever Lord. Instead, her attention was focused entirely on how to present herself; the letter summoned her in the name of the Ever Lord, but made no mention of who she was summoned as. Was she summoned as the tenth Heir to House Maar? As a Raugraf? As a Knight-Domina of the Imperial Honor?

Myriad Worlds: The Forest of Rainbow Regrets

Thu, 02 Jul 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Forest of Rainbow Regrets is a often overlooked Traveler’s destination. While any reputable tourist guide will reference the Halls of Flaya, the Tower Gardens of Ketchiil, or the Crystal Keep of Werrfulk; the Resplendent Foliage is a land of equal beauty, peacefulness, and cultural richness.

Rather than besmirch other guidebooks for this lapse in judgement, I will instead encourage any readers who wish to travel partake of the Forest of Rainbow Regrets before other Travelers discover the region and it becomes too crowded.

The Forest of Rainbow Regrets is found adjacent a rural region of small towns and hamlets on the eastern edge of Swittershak province on the world of Jorjin. Bright and verdant, the region was named by King Nutarid during the last years of his Expeditionary Crusade.

Myriad Worlds: Kynvynryn

Tue, 30 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Also known as The Machine Oasis and The White Valley, Kynvynryn is one of the most technologically advanced lands across the Myriad Worlds. If you wish to see the wonders that the scientific and alchemical arts can create, there is no better location to visit.

If you have never visited Kynvynryn before, the first and most important place to stop on your journey simply must be Goldenhein City. The most cosmopolitan location in the region, you will find the City to be filled with people from all across the Velvet, from all walks of life.

Here too will you find the wide variety of unique peoples of Kynvynryn; the proud Thinking Children as they clop through the streets, arm in arm; the vibrant and raucous Merchants of Quartz Plaza, who will call out to you in their own mathematical codes; the street-performing students of the Halls of Progressive Numbers, where three can be four can be five; musicians that fill the air with jigs, reels, waltzes, and scientifically precise wombols, played on lightning-powered prototypes of their own making; walking-chefs that pull their kitchens behind them, ready and willing to craft a full-course meal for anyone on the streets who cares to pay…truly Goldenhein City is a marvel of the age.

The Ever Lord: Sen Wakes Up

Sat, 27 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

How long had it been?

Days? Years? What was time to the dead? There was no now, only then. The dead had no future, only a past full of pain and best forgotten.

Then, a point of light. He woke. The cold grip of life closed over his heart as the aches and pains of the burning air settled over him.

“Master Yebidesh, can you open your eyes?”

The voice was soft and gentle, a sharp needle in his ears through the rushing sound of blood and screams. He tried to open his eyes, stopping when the effort drained him. Nearby, the sounds of a medical monitor beeped at him, faint…too faint. He couldn’t fall asleep while he was holding a soldier’s heart in his hands. He needed to know what his patient was feeling. He reached out to adjust the monitor’s volume.

“Don’t try to move, just rest.”

Myriad Worlds: Aeolam

Thu, 25 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

To discuss the Myriad Worlds is too to discuss the Aeolam. While as a people they are far from the most populous, the Aeolam are more directly connected to the Worlds of the Velvet than any other folk.

As such, any discussion of the Aeolam as a people must include a frank discussion of the land in which they live, as the Aeolam possess an incredibly morphous physiology. Highly sensitive by nature, Aeolam are directly influenced by the climate, geology, and biosphere of their environment through a system as yet not understood by scholars. The process is gradual, but easily observable, taking less than a week for an Aeolam to completely restructure their behavior and biology, in accordance with the Aeolam’s “Resonance.” Resonance, which is a clumsy translation of the original Aeolam term ‘Waanii,’ is the natural influence an environment has on individual and collective Aeolam.

Myriad Worlds: Gilbrim

Tue, 23 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Gilbrim are a diverse and adaptive species of beings who have achieved a level of ubiquity among the Myriad Worlds. Humanoid in shape and stature, Gilbrim vary widely in size, far more so than compared to the other people of the Myriad Worlds. Heights range from the average person’s hips to a head above the average person’s head, width from rail-thin to balloon bulbousness.

Skin-tone is often a shade of green, though darker yellows and blues have been found in disparate communities. Noses tend to be long and thin, as do ears. Hair is thin and whispy, sometimes absent. Facial hair exists on both male and female Gilbrim, though females never get hair on the front of their chins or jaws, only on the bottom of their chins and neck. Hair colors range from black to light brown to dark blue, never red or blonde.

The Ever Lord: A Wall of Ice

Sat, 20 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Sen turned the corner, when a sudden sound made him stop in his tracks.

“Hey!” the call was from deep in the bunker. “Hey, is anyone here?”

Reinforcements!

Sen tried to run, but could only shamble forward like a broken toy. He wanted to shout and cry for help. He wanted to scream and bring his fellow soldiers running to his side. Safety! Warmth! Life!

No!

His legs wouldn’t listen, so with a surge of desperation, Sen pulled his body aside, crashing into the wall to stop his shambling run. They were dreams he shouted at his spasming body. Illusions. Hallucinations of a past or future that never happened.

The voice called from nearby, “my name is Captain Bellon of the Hyan Heavy Infantry, Third Echelon. We won’t hurt you.”

Myriad Worlds: Ogres

Thu, 18 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Perhaps unique among the people of the Myriad Worlds, Ogres are massive forms of metal and muscle, awkwardly shaped according the standards of most myriad folk.

While many folk have varying standards in regards to shape and size, Ogres are almost exacting in their similarities to each other. There are unavoidable differences, of course — differing numbers of eyes, fingers, or similar — but in other ways they are precisely the same. For example, I have studied the many Ogres who reside near my domicile, and have not found half a span of difference in their heights: a full nine feet tall to a one of them.

Myriad Worlds: Hellebrach Hills

Tue, 16 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Another land frequented by tourism, the Principality of Gramphank on the world of Wepsanik houses one of the most oft traveled to regions in the entire Velvet, the City of Speer.

I will not, however, advise first-time-travelers to visit the City of Speer. Not for any practical or pragmatic reason, simply because everyone travels to the City of Speer at some point in their lives, and as such it has become a city devoted to the cloying and pleading services of tourism.

Instead, first-time-travelers should consider traveling to a small province on the edge of the Principality called Hellebrach Hills.

The Ever Lord: Sen's Heartbeat

Sat, 13 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Sen’s eyes snapped open.

“Bad dream?” the Base Girl asked, her thick off-world accent tickling his ear. He curled up next to her, muttering platitudes as weeping wounds and bleeding eyes bubbled up from his nightmares.

She was cold; as cold as a corpse.

Struggling to surface from the torrent of dreams that pulled at him, Sen opened his eyes again.

His lungs hurt. They burned when he breathed in, they ached when he didn’t. His face was stuck to a metal floor, his mouth dry and cracked. He carefully tried to move, feeling his muscles resist, protesting in pain. With a sickening noise, he pulled his hands off the metal floor, feeling scraps of skin remaining behind. The pain cut through his confusion.

Pain. This was now.

Myriad Worlds: Uumphoun

Thu, 11 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Twice as tall as many people of the Myriad Worlds, the Uumphoun are an ancient culture. Historically, ancient texts and stories of the Uumphoun tell of an old Uumphounian empire called KuuThoorrDaaWoo, translated literally as “The Second Risen Place.” This is considered by most scholars to be evidence that the Uumphoun are either the second oldest people, or the first culture to rise after some previous dominant species collapsed.

They have short stubby trunks for noses, half the length of an arm. They are thick bodied, though short-legged, with four fingers on each hand. They have thick pads for feet, with four nails for toes. Small tusks jut outwards from both the top and lower jaws.

Myriad Worlds: A History of Travel

Tue, 09 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Travel through the Velvet has a long and rich history. While much is still unknown to us, the earliest travelers of the Velvet appear to be the Zyth, as some of the oldest ruins on multiple worlds appear to be Zyth in origin. As such, most histories of travel begin with the earliest constructs of Zyth origin. It is generally believed that if the Zyth were not the first travelers of the Velvet, those who were operated along similar principles.

The Ever Lord: Sen Runs

Sat, 06 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

“Sen?”

Sixty three, sixty-four, sixty five…

Sen of House Yebidesh, filial to House Hyan, burst into a sprint through the dark corridors of the underground bunker, his tiny bag tightly strapped to his back. Footfalls echoed like bullets, ricocheting through the metal halls and back to his ears. Stealth didn’t matter now; speed was what counted. If he was lucky, he would reach the other end of the hallway in time. He wouldn’t have to use the ChillPatch.

“Ho there, slow down! What’s going on?”

Frantically, Sen dodged the grasping hand. It wasn’t there. He kept moving, closing his eyes to the darkness, counting to himself in his head.

Without warning, his left leg, tired and worn from exertion, refused to clear the small lip through the central hatch.

Sen fell.

Myriad Worlds: The Province of Wren Gallen

Thu, 04 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

What is it that amazes me so about this marvelous Province of Wren Gallen? The truth is that this province holds no more grand parks of emerald greenery than any other duchy. The plants smell no sweeter nor the fauna move more gracefully. The people are perhaps as kind and cruel as you are likely to meet anywhere across the Myraid Worlds, and their festivities at once joyous and simple as any. The sky is no bluer, nor the water clearer. The trees do not whistle in the wind with any particularly delightful tone.

So what is it, I wonder, that makes the Province of Wren Gallen a wondrous world worthy of its place among this guide to the Myriad Worlds?

Myriad Worlds: The Legends of Manyfolk

Tue, 02 Jun 2026 00:00:00 -0500

While the Myriad Worlds have birthed thousands of millions of cultures, scholars have noted there are several historical similarities that occur with curious regularity. Not the least of these is the legends of Manyfolk

Scholars debate whether this is an indication of an ancient race that has since died out, or a nod towards a universal fear or shared subconscious. Whatever it indicates, no existent Manyfolk has ever been recorded or studied by a reputable source.

The Ever Lord: Jhod and Renner Torvis

Sat, 30 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Six Bells of the Ever Palace rang out its final call, Eve’nbell had come. The Ever Palace, once as vibrant and active as any anthill, was still and silent.

Bulquis Renner Torvis, Strike Commander of the Seventh Vanguard of House Torvis and Bearer of the Waliken Standard, was not still.

Renner was walking as quietly and swiftly as he could, moving from shadow to shadow on the streets, keeping himself hidden from the Doorsmin’s attention. It was nothing difficult. While it had been many years since he had fought as a soldier on any front-lines, his years as Strike Commander had given him a respectful understanding of both the limits of any guards attention, and the boundaries of even holy vows.

Besides, he had a holier charge than even that of the Doorsmin.

Myriad Worlds: The Archonarchy

Thu, 28 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

I, well traveled as I am, have never stepped behind the door. Well traveled as I am, I have never met any who have done so.

Myriad Worlds: The Circumvexing Hill

Thu, 28 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Of all the known residences of Insect-folk, the Circumvexing Hill is perhaps the most notorious, and certainly the most confusing to outsiders. Hidden within its choking depths and dizzying heights, the Circumvexing Hill is known both for its complex and downright obtuse hierarchy, and its overly intricate design.

Perhaps the most interesting and enigmatic aspect of the Circumvexing Hill is its connection between prestige and location. Some may find this awkward or clumsy to maneuver, but rest assured that the Insect-folk of the Circumvexing Hill find the more common practice of wearing one’s honors, such as on a uniform, sash, head, or belt, no less confusing.

Myriad Worlds: The Sibilants

Thu, 28 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Excerpt from The Dreams of Harrison Peak, by Gomph Uspleki:

It hangs there, in the empty velvet, a chain wrapped around its ankle, hanging from an ice-crystal too far away to be seen. Its arm outstretched, its lipless mouth open in delight, or pain, or song. What once might have been wings now dangle uselessly. Its broiling corpus now full of a thousand souls, living or hoping to live as one does, full of shattered dreams and hopeless futures.

Myriad Worlds: The Dworgs

Tue, 26 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Dworgs, also known as Earth-Children, Keepers of the Emerald Path, Twig-beards, Masons, and more derogatorily, Dogs, are an ancient people, perhaps the oldest beings among the Myriad Worlds.

The first mention of the Dworg people is carved into the Plinth of Uilyll, the seventh facet. There, the eponymous Uilyll comes across an ancient ruin who provides them with the secret of the enduring name. (It is presumed this is a perhaps metaphorical explanation for the carving of the Plinth itself. As a people, Dworgs are known for their reverence towards stonework and its enduring nature. The ‘Secret of the Enduring Name’ may simply be a reference to carving Uilyll’s story in stone.) While the debate over the age of the Plinth is ongoing, there are few who challenge the sentiment that Dworgs have existed since before travel between the Myriad Worlds was first attempted.

The Ever Lord: Navin meets Lippothalus

Sat, 23 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The cool night wind was refreshing after the heavily perfumed air of the ballroom. Navin breathed as deep as the tight clothing would allow. Pale fingers played along the edge of the stone balcony, tracing cracks and seams like a spider searching for a foothold.

The Viceroy’s Estate sat at the top of a great hill. From the balcony, the Port City of the Third World lay stretched out towards the horizon. In the distance, the giant Port Tower gleamed in the night, its marble walls glittering among hanging lanterns and guiding lights. Around the tower’s many docks and balconies hung both mighty and humble Velvet-ships of every shape and size. Each was built by the hand of their Ever Lord’s own engineers, by methods known only to the most secret of artisans.

The Eve’nbell had rung on the First World, and so too throughout the Empire. Lights were dim all throughout the Port City as trade, labor, and conversation ceased. Peasants and nobles alike returned to their homes to eat and rest.

A light flickered in some distant window, a single red crystal to mirror the thousand icy cousins that shone above. Navin watched as the faint glow burned brighter, a beacon in the darkness. A fitful child, perhaps, and their mother waking to comfort it. A merchant, returning late from the tavern. Perhaps a nightmare had plagued an old man, who now sat up to drink away the horror. A young maid, reading again the letters of her love, aching for the morning. A thousand possibilities, and Navin would never know which was true.

Myriad Worlds: The History of the Grand Junction

Thu, 21 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Grand Junction is perhaps unique in that its origin is not only known to multiple different cultures and peoples across the Myriad Worlds, but also that this origin is agreed upon. There are few such structures across the Velvet, as most are either attended to by a single culture, or are hotly contested about their origins (e.g. the Sibilants, Orwltown, and The Dworgs)

Grand Junction was created by a unified force of Zyth, Dworgs, a single Aspanighoraji, and a team of Ogres bearing a symbol described as “A single sign” on their backs. Construction was completed centuries before the first Golden Howdah sailed the velvet, and as such, every people has a legend or record of discovering the Grand Junction. These records usually include an introduction to the Grand Junction’s history, as told by an ancient Zyth or discovered on the Mural of History.

Myriad Worlds: Grand Junction

Tue, 19 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

For any traveler of the Myraid Worlds, the first consideration must always be transport.

This is not new. Since time immemorial, the folk of the Myriad Worlds have found ingenious and irregular means of traveling the Velvet between worlds. The Rim-runners are known for the practices of Skipper-riding, the Gilbrim for their Ripjins, and few are the folk who have not witnessed the eerie sight of a band of Yattrinti setting off in their pearlescent spheres. Even purchasing your own yacht from any number of reputable (or otherwise) merchants is a perfectly acceptable method of traveling through the Velvet.

When choosing your first vessel, there are a remarkable number of options to consider; the first and foremost for the inexperienced traveler should be Availability. While the Byways Guild is a powerful and productive institution, the Myraid Worlds are numerous and wide, with millions of towns and villages beyond their immediate grasp.

Cut Content

Mon, 18 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

On the one hand, I am delighted that I was able to finish the Realist’s Guide to the Fantastical World. As an idea, a travel-guide to a fantasy world has been rattling around in my brain for years, and when completing anything has been a struggle for me, to actually finish something is a significant victory.

On the other hand, I fought with myself while writing it. I struggled between writing a guide that was more accessible, and connected to the real world in some exotic or esoteric way; and a much more extravagant world full of different species, monsters, magic, and more.

The Ever Lord: A Secret from the Baroner Ironmark

Sat, 16 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

CW: Physical and emotional control.

What had Navin done?

Nothing. Navin had done nothing.

Broken tool.

Wallin province was beautiful and verdant. Navin had heard this. Everyone had heard this.

Born to serve.

Navin had said nothing any other servant would not have said. No one would know what Navin had likely set in motion. There was nothing wrong in what Navin had said.

Navin had said it!

Last Dispatch: The Game Moves

Thu, 14 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City. I used the Freestation Tethys template, rather than get wrapped up in designing different possible factions.

What follows is a chart of the rolls made, the cards drawn, and the following actions:

Last Dispatch: Part 6

Tue, 12 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City.

CEO Kennly was sitting alone in his dark office, his finger aimlessly brushing a pen back and forth across his desk. The slow and steady movement of his arm added to the uncanny stillness of the rest of his body gave him an air of focus. It turned what Yoli would have thought was the listlessness of despair into an air of deep thought.

Yoli stepped forward. The office was remarkably well kept, compared to the rest of the station; the former citizens of Tethys Megastation had not bothered keeping things orderly for their exodus.

Kennly looked up, his eyes sagging with exhaustion. “Ah,” he said at last. “I should have known.”

Yoli rubbed their arm. They didn’t know what to say. They knew how to ask questions, not express sympathy or urge action. After so many years of asking questions, they had lost the skill.

After a moment, Kennly leaned forward over his desk. “I suppose you want a quote.”

The Ever Lord: Navin Speaks with the Guests

Sat, 09 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

“Navin of House Bithrakai.” The gentle voice that drifted across Navin’s ears was rimmed with steel. It was half a question, half a command.

Navin turned to see a woman dressed in a simple green dress of silk and lace. Sparkles of silver and gold glittered across the fabric, and bright gems of purple and yellow danced on the top of thin tassels all along the sleeves. Her eyes, framed by silken locks of sable-black hair, were the only part of the woman’s face that weren’t covered by her ornate fan.

When their eyes met, the woman extended a white-gloved hand, palm down. It was a simple command, one Navin couldn’t help but obey. Navin curtsied and took the lady’s hand, smelling the strong perfume drifting lazily from the woman’s powdered face.

Deep in Navin’s mind, a thousand clues were collected and analyzed. The colors and style of the dress, the image on the fan, even the shape of the woman’s brow was useful information. Even before Navin had gripped the fragrant glove, the hidden face had a name.

“My dear Lady Vach,” Navin smiled, “what a delight to see you. House Bithrakai is grateful that you could come.”

Last Dispatch: Part 5

Thu, 07 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City.

Yoli crouched down behind the bulkhead, listening to the gunfire echo down the thin hallways. The fighting was getting closer.

Taking a deep breath, Yoli turned their attention back to their hand-comp. The dispatch was simple enough — there wasn’t much to say — but as with every report, it was the details and context that mattered the most.

It had been a hellish month, filled with shouting, threats, and ultimately violence. The peace-talks had failed, with a coalition of Xenoethicists resisting all efforts to reach an accord. A series of trades and excuses had left everyone feeling betrayed, and at last a joint force of scientists and Homestation Defense had taken over the transit system from the station to the planet.

The Gleaners protested, of course, but no one cared about them much anymore. No, everyone paid attention to the Lifeboat Corp, who saw Homestation Defense’s seizure of planetary transit as a significant escalation. They retaliated in kind.

Last Dispatch: Part 4

Tue, 05 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City.

Yoli sat, staring at the four people sitting around the large conference table. The air was tense, even as the four settled, shuffling papers and positioning glasses of water. When Yoli had first entered the room, they thought the room felt big, compared to the familiar cozy to cramped design of the rest of the Megastation. Now, the whole space seemed tight, filled almost to bursting with people.

Yoli licked their lips as they looked back at their hand-comp for a seventh time. Their notes hadn’t changed. The facts were clear and unassailable; Tethys was being torn apart by infighting. The fact that the talks were even colloquially called “peace-talks” said it all. While no violence had occurred, the different factions in Tethys were bearing their teeth and flexing their muscles in ostentatious displays that could only lead to one place.

These talks were supposed to end all that, and Yoli was here to record it all.

The Ever Lord: A Party at House Bithrakai

Sat, 02 May 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The silver sash was fastened by gold chain-and-seal at the top of the left shoulder and then allowed to drape half-way down the waist. The remaining fabric was looped through the belt and tied properly at the right waist.

There was a proper way to do things. Navin knew this more than anyone. Even more so than the guards that could be stripped of their House name if they did not stand tall when the Viceroy was in residence, Navin knew this. There was, in the twenty years of Navin’s life, nothing more constant than that most primary lesson; to serve properly was to live properly.

The gallat was fixed to the right shoulder by a clasp and pinned to the edge of the collar. The tassels were allowed to dangle freely, the bells woven to them tinkling gently when brushed by the puffy sleeves of the blouse.

Navin wasn’t sure it understood propriety the same as others did. When other people talked about propriety, it sounded like they were describing the seasoning of a dish or the accents of a hem, not the meal or dress in itself. It was like listening to barbarian Kits when they first learned Imperial; they spoke the words, but the meaning was somehow still foreign.

Last Dispatch: Part 3

Thu, 30 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City.

Yoli pressed play on their hand-comp again, replaying the speech from the beginning. It was a bothersome chore, but Yoli had heard enough political speeches that they had learned how to quickly pick out the important clues from seas of platitudes.

And there were a lot of platitudes. The newly elected Chief of the Lifeboat Corp, Henne Loann, had used their victory speech to express their intended manifesto for the future of Tethys Station, and it had not gone over well.

Most of what she said had been the same banal assertions of maintaining the station and fulfilling their duties to all who lived on it, but some fool on her team had ignored the political situation. Any other year, the speech might have flown; this year, her constant reminders of the importance of the Lifeboat Corp read as condescending.

Last Dispatch: Part 2

Tue, 28 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City.

“Mr. Holss?”

The pepper-haired man looked up from his meal, setting down his knife and fork. “Yes, Ms…Yoli, was it? Have a seat.”

Yoli sat down, making sure their hand-comp was in full view of Mr. Holss. “I wondered if I could talk with you about —”

“Professor Morliss and her protests?” Holss nodded his head. “Certainly, certainly. I think she’s fear-mongering, of course. both myself personally and Fresh-Co officially denies her suppositions as baseless at best and absurd at worst.”

Yoli gave a weak smile. “Yes, I suppose you would. Actually, I’m here on a more recent matter. A source has informed me that you were officially replaced as Regional CEO of Fresh-Co at the last board-meeting. Any comments?”

The Ever Lord: Jhod and Lippothalus

Sat, 25 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

It was said that across the Five Worlds of the Empire of Ever and Always, that there were over a Thousand Houses, each given their own seal and dictum by the Ever Lord Himself. They each had their own ways, their own codes, and their own customs. Some ate large meals of meat and wine when the sun hung overhead. Others sat down at dusk to eat large stews of nuts and vegetable. Some devoured raw fish, others charred roots.

All who resided in the Ever Palace ate at the same time. It didn’t matter which House they belonged to or what customs they practiced, the largest meal of the day was always served at Eve’nBell. There was not a soul allowed out of doors while the evening meal was eaten, nor after, until the dawn broke the next day.

Lippothalus, personal Hand-servant to the Archduchen Belah Tharghem, knew better.

The law of the Ever Lord was universal, yes, but too did it need to be selective. While the curfew was strictly enforced, it was impossible for the nobility of the Empire to remain still and silent. Messages were slid under doors, meetings were held under cover of darkness, all with the security of honor and title.

The perfect irony of the Ever Lord’s curfew: those who had more reason to defy it had the least to fear from its enforcement. Night was not when the Empire slept, simply when it closed its eyes.

And what happened with eyes tightly shut, well…

Last Dispatch: Part 1

Thu, 23 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City.

Yoli’s head throbbed. Their eyelids struggled to remain open as they stared at the glowing comp-screen, the words blurring together in a mash of nouns and verbs. It was garbage, all of it. They wanted so desperately to trash the whole file and start again — properly, this time — but they had a deadline, and important things were happening. It didn’t take Yoli’s usual clever nose for news to smell that.

Tethys Station was one of the most important Megastations from the old era. Its history was fascinating, its culture complex, and its daily life a drudgery of monotonous ritual. There was good reason for that; Megastations were carefully balanced ecosystems. All stations were, but the Megastations were at a crucial tipping point: not so robust that they could withstand sustained damage, nor so fragile that they couldn’t support untrained personnel.

Eddling: The Sharigg of Gouli-Fen

Tue, 21 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Gouli-Fen is one of the more difficult places to reach in Eddling, largely because of the regions’ steadfast resistance to infrastructure. Tourists would do best to find a train or bus to nearby Proosh, and then charter a carriage to Kch’lori’s Rest, a small outpost on the edge of Gouli-Fen. There, you will be able to find guides, carts, and Murkmuckers who will be willing to ferry you throughout the region.

Please beware! The locals know the region far better than any foreigner; it may be alluring to hike out into the wild to travel between some of the closer towns, but this is an incredibly risky choice to make. Even when paths are well signed and supported by wooden planks or even stone bridges, the swamps of Gouli-Fen are harsh and unforgiving to novices. Even people who have lived most of their lives in the swamps can fall prey to the shifting bogs.

The Ever Lord: War Comes to the Farm

Sat, 18 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Mura adjusted her grip on her rifle.

She was one of four in her family who had taken to the art, the rest had made do with bows, swords, and spears. Even accounting for her natural talent, she had wished she had been given more opportunity to practice; but they had limited ammunition and getting more was both complicated and dangerous.

Mura’s eyes narrowed as she saw the marching soldiers break over the distant hill, pushing against the windstorm. She fought the urge to press herself down behind the barn rooftop where she lay; hiding would do no good now, and she needed to watch them approach.

Two years. Two years of banditry, as a family outside the Empire. Two years since they had killed a Knight of House Noonan, and was cast out of the Empire as heretics and bandits. Two years of waiting for the day when the Baroner’s soldiers would march down the road with weapons gleaming and deadly to either kill or imprison them all.

Two years of silence.

Bright and Terrible: The Game Moves

Thu, 16 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Bright and Terrible, by Rose on Mars.

Bright and Terrible succeeds mostly through its simplicity. All in all, there are only three aspects to each crisis: two factions, one object of desire, and a twist. From there, the player is free to construct whatever challenge or story they see fit. While there is no rule that only one roll can be made for each crisis, I felt it fit well in the confines of an episodic narrative.

I’ve spoken before about my struggle between writing the story either during or after playing the whole game, and in this case I did a kind of hybrid: I rolled up the situation and wrote it down, leading the Exile to their climactic action. Once I had decided what they would do, I rolled the dice and wrote the chapter’s conclusion. I think this process worked well, as it gave me the chance to play with the situation before I knew whether I was writing a successful action or a failure.

Bright and Terrible: Part 5

Tue, 14 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

As time passed, Atlantis continued to die.

I sank deeper and deeper into the depths. What mattered the Laws of the Firmament if there were no Shining Towers to uphold them? What sense was there in the Ways of the Spiral if there were no dancers to herald them? Who cared for the Honor of Being when there were no people to celebrate them?

Time continued to kill Atlantis, as I, the only one who remembered their great and terrible beauty, slowly felt the images fade in my mind. The Dance of the Spheres became blurry in my memory. The Morning Songs sung by the Avian Choir turned muted. The murals made by painting colored lights in the sky, mere shadows.

Seated once more on my throne, listening to the whispers of my trapped heretic, I spoke again with the Ophidian Sisters. I condemned them for their actions, and demanded recompense. As ever, they laughed and shook their scaly hair.

“Retribution for what, dear sibling? For giving you the spark of fire you needed to solve your dilemma? For giving you the strength to bend the Pirates to your will? For allowing you to end an ancient curse long since past its use? All has come to pass as the Mother-of-Serpents claimed it would.”

The Ever Lord: Mura and Heim

Sat, 11 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Heim Outwater was not a particularly handsome boy. Neither was he especially strong or clever. He was not known as a particularly skilled farmer nor tender of animals, he was a passing flue-player and could dance no better than any of the other awkward boys his age.

Mura was grateful for his lack of special skills, as it made him well suited to be House Outwater’s messenger boy. He traveled often between the farms of the Barony of Noonan, gathering and sharing news as he could. Mura didn’t doubt that House Ashtree was not the only House that saw him less as an Outwater and more as a wandering vagabond, accepting a meal and warm bed for his service.

He was still sleeping in that bed when Mura had woken up to start her morning chores. She didn’t begrudge his exhaustion; He had arrived late last night on his tired horse, bearing the news from the other farms.

Mura had given Heim a kiss on the cheek for his efforts. This made him first blush most furiously, and then stagger when Oklan slapped him heartily on the back with a laugh. It was a welcome moment of levity, considering the news he had brought.

Bright and Terrible: Part 4

Thu, 09 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

I spent many a day and night with the rock salt pillar. Inside was the mind of a heretic, a villain who had been cast out of Atlantis for crimes greater than any mortal could fathom. I should have been repulsed by it, shunned its mad ramblings and distant thoughts, but by the Shining Towers of Apazil, I could not find disgust in my heart.

I did not feel pity; I was not so far removed from Atlantis that I had forgotten myself. At most I felt regret for myself, that I had come so close to another Atlantean — Oh! — only to find nothing but this eroding soul, a mockery of a companion.

In my lonely madness, I even tried speaking to it. I do not know why I tried; perhaps I imagined the process was not irreversible, that I could bring this heathen back to lucid thoughts. Surely, if any could, it would be I, master of the hammer, diplomat, and changer-of-minds. But no, such dreams were folly, and I soon quit my efforts.

Yet I did not quit my madness; the pillar remained beside my throne, and the whispers of the trapped soul came to my mind every day. I knew not if it soothed my mind or made my loneliness worse, but I was compelled. I turned away servant and petitioner for many a month, consumed with thoughts both terrible and divine.

Bright and Terrible: Part 3

Tue, 07 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Oh, how their words plagued me! To possess the love of the Ophidians was a darker curse than their hatred. Their poison was slow, eating away at their targets with unerring rot. They cursed not only those who wronged, but those who erred, those who mistook, and those who failed as well. Even those who committed no greater crime than to show mercy or charity to the undeserving were to be torn apart by the witches’ hexes.

I prayed they would find no cause to act without my word. I tempered my fury and ire with swift and just punishments, to spare the guilty a horrible fate. I corrected the innocent with hammer and word, and found my heart swollen sore with the every stroke. How easy it was to return to my place of glory atop a throne of gleaming brass! Where once I had thought the Isle of the Gorgons would be a place of solitude, now I sought to rebuild something of a kingdom of my own. Spurred by the fear of the witches’ passions, I sought to embody the promise of Atlantis, a place of light and music, as beautiful as it was terrible.

For many generations I toiled to polish the gray stones of the Isle, to return the luster of Atlantis to the world, but for all my efforts it was a mockery, a misshapen jest of an empire. The mortals knew it, too. I could feel the lies they told themselves, the pleasure they took from pretending that nothing had changed, that I was no less than the Indigo Empress herself. They praised their good fortune and privilege to serve, enjoying the fruits of my Empire that were the envy of Kings and Queens of the less-fortunate kingdoms.

The Ever Lord: Mura Prays

Sat, 04 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Ordinarily, the evening meal in House Ashtree was a boisterous affair. Ashtree was a one of the larger farms in the Barony, with no fewer than forty men, women, and children. Each had a place at the longhouse table, and they all ate together when the day’s work was finished. Even when the day had been long and their muscles exhausted, there was always a story worth telling and laughter worth sharing.

Unlike the morning meal; which had three tiny courses of egg, butter-root cakes, and thick honeyed curd to provide energy for the day; the evening meal was longer, richer, and seasoned with good company. Roasted roots and grains were mashed into crispy cakes next to thick and chewy vegetables. Honeyed fruits garnished thin cuts of meat and bread. Nothing was served that took long to prepare, but all of it would insure a deep and restful sleep.

On the days that marked the changing of the seasons, a large paper-wrapped cheese was brought out at the end of the meal to much celebration, and everyone would share a hearty slice. The children would then be sent to bed while the adults would stay awake, pulling bottles of old wines and beers out of the pantries, sharing a drink and speaking with each other about the news between local families and rumors from the other Houses and farms.

Bright and Terrible: Part 2

Thu, 02 Apr 2026 00:00:00 -0500

I found for myself a lonely spot to live, a barren cliff overlooking the ink-black seas. There is a village of barbarians nearby; I thought it an amusement at best, but they have been strangely gentle and welcoming. Perhaps they remember the glory and grace that we could bestow on those worthy. Perhaps they remember our terrible fury. Whatever the reason, they do not hide from me as others have. Instead they bring me tribute in the form of minor gifts. A basket of sour food here, a shawl of rough silk there. They do not know how pitiful these offerings are, how much they burn my throat and skin. Their softest furs are scratching burrs and their sweetest fruits are acid compared to even the memory of what I lost.

Through their prayers they spoke to me, and so I learned of a child who sought me harm. Word of my survival had spread throughout the region, and the son of a barbarian general — who saw himself as a bit of a regional governor — wished to make a name for himself. The townsfolk didn’t know his plans, but the renown of one who slew an Atlantean would doubtlessly impress the locals, turning him into a God-General of everlasting name.

No matter. I was the only survivor of my people. He would find me very difficult to kill.

Bright and Terrible: Part 1

Tue, 31 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Drowning. There is nothing more terrifying, more soul-rending than the feeling of being in the midst of an endless dark, unable to breathe as you sink further and further away.

How piddling a word it was for the humans. ‘Drowning.’ They even had a different word for the same emotion; ‘Overwhelming.’ They used it like children, ignorant of the true breadth of horror such a word contained. They threw such words around without a care. ‘Starving.’ ‘Awe-struck.’

Lonely.

I know what it is to drown, to feel the weight of the world’s oceans crash down on not only your head, but the whole world. The humans would use words like ‘culture,’ ‘civilization,’ or ‘Empire’ to describe what had been lost. Small, useless words. The meanest words of my people are as birdsong to the clattering bones of human-speak.

I am the last of my people. I am lost. I am lonely. I am starving. I am drowning.

The Ever Lord: House Ashtree and the Guildmin

Sat, 28 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Mura’s father returned to the farm, not with a message, but with a man.

She had waited by the gate to the Ashtree farm every evening for a week, watching the road in hopes that her father would return soon with good news of their liege’s generosity. Her mother had admonished her for a fool, but Mura finished her work every day, so her mother could not call her undutiful. Sometimes her Uncle Oklan came to watch with her and talk, even though there wasn’t much to talk about. That is, except the one thing they didn’t want to talk about.

When she first saw the dust on the distant road, blown about by the Fourth World’s constant wind, she wasn’t sure she was seeing true. She stared for a few minutes until she was sure that there was indeed the dark shape of a horse and rider heading towards the farm. She ran to the farmhouse, calling her family to come and see. By the time she returned to the gate with her family in tow, there was no doubt; her father was coming home.

Justice: Part 4

Thu, 26 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Jorgo opened his eyes.

The room was quiet. Clean. It reminded him of the medical dome in the Colony, but there was no clean white surfaces anywhere. Instead, the walls were rock and stone. The bed he lay on was soft and warm. and the air was perfumed with wildflowers.

“Brother,” the voice was warm and gentle, an echo from years ago. Jorgo turned to see Sika rising from the chair at the foot of his bed. She leaned over him, her face lined with worry, relief, and regret. “Brother, how are you feeling?”

Jorgo raised a shaky hand and gently poked and prodded his aching body. He felt numb, like the world had somehow gone gray and lifeless. Even the pain was distant, reaching to him from a body far removed from his actual self. He wanted to cry out in despair, but he couldn’t; even his despair was muted.

Justice: Part 3

Tue, 24 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Jorgo stared at his reflection in the blade. He looked so different than he remembered. An awkward and sickly childhood had filled his memories with pale skin and sunken eyes, with matted hair and a weak back. Now, he felt stronger. Taller. More of a man than he’d ever been before.

The eyes that stared back at him were clean and bright, full of joy and focus. He grinned at the idea that this was the man his foes would be seeing, standing proud next to his family.

“They approach, love,” Karna’s voice broke through his dreaming. “We must be ready.”

“I’m ready,” he laughed, sheathing the curving sword at his side and turning to pluck his girl from off her feet, swinging her around in the air. “Let them come! There is nothing to fear from a bunch of rotten old lepers.”

Karna’s laugh mingled with his as she pressed her lips against his throat. “You are so brave and strong, my love, I hope you are right.”

The Ever Lord: Jhod and Karn Li-Schan

Sat, 21 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

The Eve’nbell rang out over the Ever Palace. All returned to their homes, save the Doorsmin, their eyes scanning every shadow, seeking out every corner, attentive in their holy duty to ensure that after Eve’nbell had rung, there was no one whose feet walked the pavement.

Tonight, his Indomitable Grace, Grand Duchen Karn Li-Schan, Warlord of House Li-Schan and Knight Commander of the Order of the Flank, would slip past them all.

Not because of any desire to flout the Eve’nbell’s curfew, goodness no. It had been a good many decades since youthful vigor and a prideful spirit had pushed Li-Schan out of doors during the night. No, now a veteran of over fifteen military campaigns, Li-Schan knew the importance of following orders, and of giving them as well. He knew that no matter how odd or inconsequential the curfew might be, there was cause, and it was his duty to follow. Even as a Grand Duchen and Warlord, he had to follow orders.

In fact, that was exactly why he would defy the curfew this night. He had been commanded, and he would not shirk his duty.

Justice: Part 2

Thu, 19 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

When Sika had finally finished her meal, the hum shifted again. “Now,” the monk spoke, “you are from the Colony of New Holden, yes? Why don’t you tell us what has caused you to brave such a difficult climb? We did not choose this mountain for its accessibility.”

“My father said it was because you didn’t want anyone from New Holden visiting you who did not need to,” Sika said through a mouth half-full of fowl flesh. She chewed quickly and swallowed a gulp of juice. “So you are not plagued with people begging you for help.”

The giant’s head twisted back and forth like a dog. “Your father is close to the truth of it. You must have a great need to have climbed so far…and a dark one, to seek us.”

Sika set the flagon down. She stared at the misshapen giant, watching as the skin-flaps of its face waved gently in the air like flower petals. In the span of mere minutes, the certainty she had felt while climbing the mountain had begun to show cracks of doubt. Twice she opened her mouth to speak, only to realize no words would come.

Justice: Part 1

Tue, 17 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Sika’s hands ached. Her knees bled. The cold wind scraped against her cheeks and her back throbbed with fierce vigor. Nevertheless, she kept climbing. She was so close, just a few more feet, and she would be at the Monastery’s doors.

She wanted to pause and catch her breath, but she knew the moment she stopped would be the moment her strength failed her. She followed a thundering heartbeat in her mind; keep climbing. Don’t stop. Keep climbing. She didn’t look down, nor up. She had no idea how much further she had to go. She didn’t want to know. Knowing was for those who needed to risk despair for the chance to hope.

Sika was beyond hope, beyond despair. It didn’t matter how far from the Monastery she was. She would keep climbing until she reached it, or she died.

She reached upwards and grabbed at a protruding rock. She felt it shift, and in one horrible moment the mountain-side spun beneath her. She felt herself fall away from the icy cliff to be gripped by the winds. The rock fell from her hands…

The Ever Lord: The Rubbed-Off Mask

Sat, 14 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Kasta’s life was paper.

As Quill-servant in the Ever Palace, his very life’s blood was the bureaucracy, and his heartbeat were the lists. Lists of words. Lists of numbers. Organized. Categorized. Itemized. His penmanship was prayer and his holy cant was procedure.

The Five Worlds of the Ever Empire were connected by paper. What did a knight’s death or a peasant’s wedding matter to a noble on another world? It might as well not have happened. But if the event were written down in a letter or report, the event becomes real. That was truly what the Hall of Record was to the Empire of Ever and Always; a place where the Five Worlds became real.

Kasta dabbed gently at his forehead with a square of cloth, carefully inspecting it in the candlelight after doing so.

Now with added Ko-fi

Thu, 12 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

Let me tell you something about having social trauma.

It does cruel things to you. The constant bullying teaches you that you are doing something wrong, while tricking you into thinking that if you behaved “correctly” you’d be accepted, make friends, and not be tormented on a daily basis. It makes you crave validation — or even just confirmation — that you’re doing “human” correctly. (This is also likely exacerbated by autism, if you happen to have it.) Even friendly jokes can be salt in an oft-opened wound.

At the exact same time, it teaches you that social interactions are dangerous. If you make a mistake, you will be hurt, physically or emotionally. You pull away from attention and mistrust your self-confidence. You lean against the wall and wait for others to approach, because even introducing yourself is risky. You get a reputation for being standoffish, elitist, or smug.

A Word on My Solo Style

Tue, 10 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0500

I have a lot of Solo RPGs. A lot of them were free, and others I purchased in RPG bundles. Some of them are funny or silly, while others are dark and foreboding. Some ask the player to introspect, others are casual coffee-break games. I’ve played and written about only a small sampling of my collection; it’s extensive.

All the same, I’ve started to notice a pattern, one in which I think there is value in exploring. Both with RPGs in general and as a writer, I would like to talk about planning versus pantsing.

Pantsing is not pulling down someone’s trousers. In writing circles, it is the alternative to the method of writing that involves plot skeletons, character backstories, prepared themes, and charted plot-points, even before the first chapter is written. It’s “by the seat of the pants” writing, where you just write, and leave all that plot nonsense for later.

The Ever Lord: A Game of Stratau

Sat, 07 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0600

There was an art to the game of Stratau.

Among the avid players, it was insulting to call it a game. Stratau Gurus said that you could study the art for a lifetime. The game itself was deceptively easy to learn. Pieces moved according to simple rules and tokens were exchanged for clear reasons. As the game progressed, however, the simple rules began to intersect and interact in incredibly intricate ways.

The Gurus could play games that lasted days. Onlookers could see a rout where the devoted saw an even match, and visa versa. A solid strategy required careful and painful judgments about what could be sacrificed and for what gain. One Game were never the same as the next, and each could last weeks or even months with innocuous moves at the beginning of the game deciding events at the end.

There were no Masters of Stratau; the closer one came to truly mastering the game the further true mastery seemed. Winning the game became secondary to far more important metrics. It became a dance, a creation between two minds, a conversation, a song.

It was Kasta Illibran’s favorite game.

What We Deserve

Thu, 05 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0600

What does Deserve mean?

Yes, this is going to be another longwinded diatribe about the specific connotations of a word that everyone already understands, so don’t worry if you’re not interested; just move on to another website, and I’ll see you next time.

After all, I don’t deserve your attention, do I?

Already there are some interesting connotations. That simple phrase, “I don’t deserve this,” holds derogatory weight. Regardless of my intent, I come away looking humble, yes, but also self-depreciating. “I don’t deserve your attention” is another way of saying “I’m not good enough to entice you.” “I’m a bad artist, look away, go find something of greater worth to spend your time on.”

I won’t lie, that’s certainly a connotation I would have used in the past, well after my ’teen emo’ phase.

Alone Together

Tue, 03 Mar 2026 00:00:00 -0600

George Henderson pressed the intercom buzzer, adjusting his scarf with his other hand. A faint mechanical beep pierced the snow filled air. Patiently, George waited for a reply, his breath fogging his thick glasses. Finally, a tinny voice pierced the dim night.

“George, is that you?” came the faint thin voice of his friend, Karl Winthorpe.

“Yes, yes it’s me.” he said, clapping his hands to his arms, warming himself as best he could.

“Excellent!” came the tinny reply. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m afraid the staff has gone home for the evening. I’ve left the door open; just head on into the library, and make yourself at home. I’ll be right there.”

There was a pause, and then a harsh buzzing following a loud click as the gate unlocked itself and swung open. George stepped through the gate and began to walk up towards the massive mansion that dominated the small hill.

The Ever Lord: Kasta and Yuris Ka-Melan, the Master of Tithes

Sat, 28 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

The Hall of Record was like a honeycomb.

Kasta never called it a honeycomb, unlike many of his fellow Quill-servants, though he could certainly understand the parallels. The hundreds of ladders were sometimes occupied by four Quill-servants at a time, reaching out to remove or replace thick folders of paper or stacks of scrolls in their proper cubby-holes. The swish and hiss of robes brushing the smooth stone was like the soft hiss of a waterfall, while thin leather sandals eroded winding paths between the stairs and cabinets.

Everything was in the Hall of Record. Letters from centuries ago were hidden somewhere in the stacks, detailing the rise and fall of Houses long since lost. Collated data on harvest yeilds from across the Empire sat in thick drawers. Which holy relics had been passed to whom, during which wars, and their current precise location were collected in massive books that piled higher than than the tallest Knight.

All along the walls and in carefully positioned loci throughout the massive Hall, desks squatted like frogs while Quill-servants wrote reports, filled out forms, and collated information into thick-bound folders. Their lives were paper and ink, placed on their desks with reverence and marked with the same zeal. Letters and scrolls were passed back and forth, along a current that only the Librarian of Record truly understood.

Climbing

Thu, 26 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

The sound of the mines echoes in my head. After so long, I hear nothing else. The sound of iron cutting into stone fills the air. The Iridium drills engines whirring away like grumbling dragons, chewing up the resilient rock, our secret weapons in the war for our lives.

They shit out gemstone, these dragons. Out their backsides the dull gray lumps of fused rock that is our heat, our energy, our livelihood. If the dragons stop, if we stop, our people die in cold and hunger. The ice-age that blankets the land above will break through out blockade, and a billion soldiers dressed as snowflakes will sweep through the tight passageways and kill us all. Men, women, children…they will spare no one.

We must hold strong. We must break our backs to save our species. Every stabbing pain is a reminder that we are sacrificing our lives for our people. I die so that others may live.

My hands are calloused. My sores weep. My arms hurt and they do not stop hurting. I cannot take a deep breath without coughing. It is a small price to pay for the future of our people. I have no regrets.

The Uprising

Tue, 24 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

CW: Descriptions of Suicide.

“Looks pretty cut and dried, Sir. Wrote the letter, pinned it to his leg, nicked himself as he did, and hung himself.”

Deputy Commissioner Rupert Keily stared up at the grotesque corpse of Bill Chesterfield, CEO of Cesterfield Inc. The slack form twisted gently in the AC from the overhead vents that were busy keeping the victim’s home office cool and breathable in the summer heat. Rupert slowly circumvented the corpse, noting the folds of the wrinkled slacks and rolled up dress shirt sleeves. He carefully lifted the left pant leg with a gloved finger, noting the small black clot of blood right beneath the safety pinned note. Deftly, Rupert unpinned the note, and inspected the sharp point. A small blot of dried blood tarnished the otherwise shiny pin. Rupert pulled the note off, and tossed the pin into a small evidence bag being held by Inspector Dryfuss.

“It does look simple, doesn’t it?” Rupert straightened up, gesturing for another bag. “Get that to the lab, check there aren’t any other fingerprints. Same with this note.”

The Ever Lord: Kasta Illibran

Sat, 21 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

The first thing Sir Kasta Illibran did when he woke up was wash his face and put on his makeup.

The second thing Sir Kasta Illibran did when he woke up was to kneel in front of the Iron Sigil of the Lord of Ever and Always, and say his prayers for morning service.

The third thing Sir Kasta Illibran did when he woke up was get dressed in the long red robe of the Quill-Servants, and slip his small emergency bag under his belt.

The fourth thing he did when he woke was eat a quick breakfast of roasted root and thin butter, and drink a quick glass of mull-mead. It was the same breakfast he had eaten for over a decade, and he barely tasted the bitter spices anymore.

The fifth thing he did was to pick up the travel-desk that rested on the broad silken cloth covered platform along the wall. Opening the top, he made sure the desk was prepared with five vials of ink, ten quills, and a small cloth-bound wrap of various Quill-servant tools. Once he was satisfied, he carefully adjusted the strap as he pulled it over his head, and settled the broad wooden plank against his stomach before tying off the rope around his back.

The sixth and final thing he did was open his door and unlock the tiny missive-box that hung on its center. Inside, the thick coil of paper that had been placed there during the night sat wrapped in ribbon and wax. Every morning, he pulled out the scroll and unrolled it to read the long list of names, addresses, times, and designations; his instructions for the day. He would then slip the scroll into his pocket, before walking through the Hall of Record and out into the Palace of Ever and Always.

Now, Kasta was ready to begin his daily duties.

Behind the Scenes, part 2

Thu, 19 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Did you know that there are rock-paper-scissors tournaments?

I’m not joking. Yes, it sounds like a joke, but the WRPSA is a real institution, with games taken as seriously by its players as any other sport. There are championships, books on strategy, trainers…

Now, the easy(and likely immediate…) reaction is to laugh. It really sounds like a lost Monty Python sketch, doesn’t it? You could see it on The Simpsons; hushed reporters discussing with retired masters the strategies this particular player is using…Oh, Paper; that’s the same opening he used against Keriovick in Moscow last year. A risky gambit; will it pay off, John? And the camera pans to the retired seven-time world champion, who’s maybe 14 years old.

It’s easy to laugh, because RPS means something to most of us; it’s a “game” only in the loosest of terms. There is no strategy, no skill, it’s entirely random, right? It’s what you do when you need to roll-off or cut-high but don’t have any dice or cards handy.

But it’s not entirely random, because you choose. You decide whether you throw Scissors or Paper or Rock, and surely there is some strategy in the choice, right?

Behind the Scenes

Tue, 17 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

H.P. Lovecraft, the racist little muppet, has a famous saying that gets trotted out like a prancing pony every time Horror as a genre gets mentioned.

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.

Most people, I think, get too wrapped up in this idea, and think that he was explaining his overall thesis statement: but consider, how much of Lovecraft’s horror is about the unknown? Most of his horror, I think, comes from the idea that exploring and discovery is dangerous. It’s an anti-intellectual sentiment, that the more you learn about the world, the more horrifying it becomes. A more accurate thesis statement might be “Ignorance is bliss.”

Now, do I have a long-winded yet articulate dissertation on Hit Points Lovecraft in the hopper for you? No. This is a half-baked idea at best, but it’s a fitting prostige(A portmanteu of prologue and prestige, used to define the practice of telling a seemingly unrelated story as an opener to a thesis; made famous by Rachel Maddow and lefty-Youtube video essays.) to what I want to talk about: Looking Behind the Scenes.

The Ever Lord: Jhod and the Librarian

Sat, 14 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

In the Hall of Record, the lights burned low.

The Librarian’s many eyes darted around the shadows, searching for signs of movement. There were none. The Quill-servants had all returned to their cells, the doors shut tightly. It was only the Librarian now, with their pile of scrolls, books, papers, letters, documents, rolls of pens, and stacks of ink vials.

Completing their circuit, the eyes of the Librarian landed once more on the single letter that had occupied their thoughts for the whole evening. A single letter, written and sealed with a special mark; the one mark the Librarian held in any kind of esteem.

In the distance, the Darklin’ Hour rang. The Fiveworlders called it Eve’nbell. Such a silly name for the coming of darkness.

For the first time in…was it years? Certainly not. Months at least, but years? Well, it was possible, but still…when was the last time the Librarian had crawled out from behind their desk? What had they done? That’s right, they had been looking for a lost Quill-servant, to administer punishment for his — or was it hers? — laxity in their duties. They had found the poor thing huddled in a ditch on the outskirts of the inner Palace, pressed against the Palace Walls and begging for mercy. Poor thing.

Wisp

Thu, 12 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

“You’re a cold-blooded bastard, you are,” Ronald tossed a thick sleeping-roll to Danial, grinning a sinister grin. “This must be twenty miles from town.”

“Or thirty at least,” Kenny sighed, lowering his body onto a large rock. “Seriously, Danial, why are we doing this? And don’t give us any of that macho ‘guy’s trip’ garbage, we could have gone to Vegas.”

“Hell, even L.A.” Ethan muttered darkly as he dropped his backpack to the ground. He had been quiet for most of the trip, opting to hike in silence through the dark forest. Danial opened his arms wide.

“Come on now, this is an adventure! I don’t want to spend all my time with you guys just getting drunk, gambling away my money, and masturbating myself to sleep in Vegas.”

And That Night It Came

Tue, 10 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

I sit now at my desk, hand trembling to spite my dark intent. I have no recourse but to place in writing the terrible and ominous portents that have been visited to me this night, as I sat reclining in my grandfather’s chair, reading from one of the many ancient texts that line my library walls. Until now, I had thought these books were at worst a boast. A casual conciliatory gesture to my literary past, and a knowing wink and a nod to any guests I may once have invited to my home. Now I do detest the sight of them, these rusty tombs of crusty ink and decaying papyrus. I see them now for what they are — vile corpses of living plants, once full of seeds and spores, now skinned and drained of life, with acidic brackish ichor carving the feeble gibbering of children and mad men into their bones, all bound together with the dry skins of dead animals, long since past this mortal plane. Macabre collages of decay and madness.

The Ever Lord: Jhod and the Immaculate Hall

Sat, 07 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

For the thousands of citizens of the Empire of Ever and Always, the day ended the same way it had for over ten centuries.

In the tallest tower of the Palace of Ever and Always, there hung six bells. The pedigree and history of each was enough to fill whole volumes in the palaces archives, and they had a language all their own; ringing out not only the time, but important events throughout the long days of the Ever Empire. There was a ring for morning prayers, for midday mass, for the departure and arrival of the Ever Lord, and many more besides.

Now, the bells ring a warning, a caution to all that night had officially fallen on the First and greatest of the Five Worlds. The sound reached outwards, searching for every crack and corner, filling the ancient stone with its vibrations. It was said that the tolling of the Six Bells could reach across the Velvet. When the Six Bells rang, the whole Empire took notice.

At the bells’ reverberations, shadows which had for the better part of the evening crept across the stonework in a steady pace now filled the corners of the countless pathways and crosswalks that wound across the ground like eager snakes.

It was the first of two rings. The first was to alert the Empire that the second ring was soon to come. To many, it was the Empire’s way of stretching and yawning before blowing out the candle.

Werewolf

Thu, 05 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Screams and fire. A blinding heat that soothed the icy blood. Through all of it, a cackling laugh that was barely recognizable. Crackling wood and snapping stone punctuated the charnel house that filled the world, as the Pack hunted for fresh meat.

We’ll fight ’till we drop.

The bumper sticker sat proudly on the bumper of the car across the street, it’s bright yellow lettering glowing against the deep purple background. The car looked brand new, daring the viewer to believe that it had even been driven off the lot. The silver chrome glittered brightly in the shining sun, hurting Logan “Sparks” Serminski’s good eye. He took a sip from his beer as he sat in his chair, waiting for the coals to heat. The sounds of the summer filtered through the haze of his cloudy mind: children playing in the yard, his cousins chatting about work, his wife rushing about with drinks and small talk. Even his brother was here, swallowing his elitist pride and deigning to allow himself to be seen with his youngest sibling.

The Trial of the Afterlife

Tue, 03 Feb 2026 00:00:00 -0600

He opened his eyes.

At first, there was too much. Too much sound, light, movement — his senses were bombarded from every angle. The pain was immense, rippling through his body like a wave, tickling every nerve ending like sharp tacks. Slowly, the tidal wave receded, leaving him crushed and bruised, as shapes began to emerge. Dancing forms waved in front of him like flames, a harsh hissing skittering through him like flies. Gradually, he began to discern the frightful demons that cackled and roared about him, tongues of flame flipping in and out of their mouths like silverfish, their black claws clacking and clattering around him in the air.

He was dead. He was in Hell.

The Fall of the Empire of Ever and Always, Vol XI (as dramatized by Lady Euphonia Winscort, based on Ns. Kint Farrow's third translation of the Rwallygi pom Wraskot manuscript): Introduction

Sat, 31 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

A Foreword by Lady Euphonia Winscort

This is the Eleventh volume of my dramatic retelling of the rise and fall of the Empire of Ever and Always, covering the first generation of the Era of Heiritance: the discovery of the Five Heirs and the events that resulted from their investiture.

I was enamored of the Empire of Ever and Always from a young age, specifically when first viewing “The Great Exodus” by the famous Uumphoun painter Koothoonu. Whether zey used three canvases because, as it is argued, zey were commanded by zer patron, or because zey could not capture the grandeur of the spectacle in one canvas alone, I do not care to speculate. What I can say is, as a young child, I was enraptured by both the size of the Imperial vessels depicted, and the remarkable scale of the enterprise.

I remember being fascinated by the prow of the lead ship. (Any who have seen the original painting in its place at the Garm Museum of Ancient Art will know which vessel I mean; Koothoonu’s masterful handling of color and shade make it perfectly clear which of the three largest ships is in the foreground) Whether Koothoonu painted a specific vessel or from memory is open to debate, but as a child I could not escape the horribly sad face of the foremost figurehead. Its gaze was steady, but offset, giving it the air of one who has seen everything they have ever cared about collapse into nothing, a face of unbearable sadness.

The Worms

Thu, 29 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Something was wrong.

Nicholas K. Linkletter III, ‘Slick Nick’ to his friends and Mr. Linkletter to everyone else, had started slurring his speech five minutes into the board meeting. Then he put his head in his hands, muttering something about smelling lemon tea, and collapsed on the desk. His fellow board-members quickly turned him over, loosening his tie, and called the ambulance. Mrs. Jennings had checked his pulse and tried to administer CPR — a sensation that Nicholas found quite odd, as Mrs. Jennings was an avid smoker. The air tasted foul to his tongue, and he knew he should be coughing.

The medics arrived in only five minutes, having been out on another call. They took over for Mrs. Jennings, feeding a tube down his throat, and forcing air into his lungs with a blue plastic oval. This was much less comfortable at first for Nicholas, but his lungs were breathing cleaner now, not filled with leftover smoke that had settled in Mrs. Jennings’ lungs. He felt the sharp stabbing pain from a needle in his arm, and his body was lifted into the air by two strong arms, and onto a metal surface that clattered under his weight.

The Gallows Men

Tue, 27 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

The fading sunlight seeped into the cell, past jagged iron grating that had long since turned reddish brown from rust. The birdsong of twilight began to dwindle, joining the sun in slowly sliding away from the grim event that was about to occur. Through the grating, Mary Harker watched as the random passers-by slowly faded from sight, returning to their cozy homes, loving families, and warm meals.

Mary turned from the window to her cell. Stone walls with an iron door was all that separated her from the world, but it was enough. There was little light, and only a small rat-hole in the corner that had long since been vacated. Even the rats would not stay in this cell for long — the stench of the dead reached all the way from the gallows. Mary nudged the small plate of bread that the jailer had given her. Perhaps it was Christian courtesy, or maybe some cruel joke, but the jailer had placed a small runny yellow glob of butter on the bread. She watched as the slimy fat slid its way down the stale wheat before she turned away. She wasn’t hungry at the moment.

Ahab's Revenge

Sat, 24 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

And so my Travel Guide to Places that Don’t Exist is completed.

Well, completed is probably not the right term. One of the positives surrounding a fake travel-guide like this is that you can always add a new place or attraction, slotting it in wherever you like.

Will I do that? Possibly. Not for a while though, because I have something…a bit larger in mind for my next project. How large? Well, let’s just say I’ve never posted a project as I was working on it. Thankfully, I’ve always had a backlog of stories that I’ve “finished,” so I’ve always been able to relax and put the time into writing without worrying about any self-imposed posting schedule.

That’s going to change a bit. This next project is…let’s be kind and just call it unfinished. A lot of work is going to go into it, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep a three-times-a-week posting schedule on this project alone…so I’m going to start only posting it once a week, on Saturdays. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be focused on posting/archiving old work, and any one-shot short stories I come up with.

Conclusion

Thu, 22 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

As I sit here, putting the finishing touches on this extensive book of marvelous places I have been, I find myself at a bit of a curious loss.

I have never been very good at languages. For all my traveling, I have constantly relied on locals, guides, and books to communicate with people who don’t speak my language. Translation is a difficult thing for me, and in writing this book I have been made painfully aware that the very act of writing is a kind of translation itself.

Windawill: The Seeing Mirror of Evenfarther

Tue, 20 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Set on the Rushblow cliffs overlooking the Sea of Crystal, the small town of Evenfarther is reachable only two ways. The first is to make your way to the Loplishy Prefecture, either by train, beetle-bus, or long-barge. Once in Loplishy, look for a small ramshackle storefront by the name of Tad’s Transit. Do not be put off by its awkward appearance, Tad is a professional and reliable pilot. You can then purchase a hot-air balloon ticket to Evenfather for only two canters. This is the safer method, if longer, and has the added benefit of being easy to access.

Windawill: The People of the Lane

Sat, 17 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

The Lane is one of the several wandering locations of Windawill. You will rarely find it in the same place twice, and you will likely only fall upon it by random chance.

If you want to seek out the Lane, you should wander the backstreets and alleyways of Yopshim, Dimasi, or Almeda. If this is your first time visiting, be sure to close your eyes tightly every few minutes, just to be sure you haven’t stumbled across it by accident; many tourists reach the Lane only to wander out again without noticing.

Windawill: The Grayglass Domes

Thu, 15 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

To get to the Grayglass Domes, one must first reach the Saltwater Plains. There are multiple ways of doing this, but the most reliable and comfortable way for most tourists is to reach either the town of Mémré or the city of Damasi.

Tours to the Grayglass Domes operate out of Damasi on a weekly basis, run by courteous and knowledgeable guides with years of experience. The Brushwik Tour Group is my preferred company, but I am also quite experienced as a tourist and don’t require much in the way of amenities or structure. Newcomers to the Grayglass Domes could instead opt for Anwyn Tours, a reasonably priced company that provides well curated tours that cover each of the Domes in full. Anwyn Tours is a good choice if you don’t want to miss anything.

If you don’t have much money, you can charter a flow-stone bus to the Alep Dome for the fairly cheap price of 4 dales, and wander the Domes yourself. This is a relatively safe option if you take reasonable precautions.

Windawill: The Land and Its People

Tue, 13 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

I found myself considering whether or not to include the great land of Windawill in this book. While there are certainly less hospitable places for travelers to wander, there are few full of more mystery or strange ways. A small land, few travelers are allowed entry into the Conference’s territory. Fewer still return eager to tell tales of what they experienced. As such, the majority of what I will convey is a combination of rumor, hearsay, and subtle suggestion.

I myself have found travel to Windawill becoming more and more difficult. For any number of reasons, many points of access are becoming harder to access. Ports are closing, doors are locking, and the once friendly land has become colder to visitors these days. It has become more and more common for travelers to require native friends or known travelers to be accepted to Windawill.

Currently, there are five well known and reliable methods for reaching Windawill: (Editor’s Note: One week before the printing of this edition, the Administrators of Windawillian Travel (AWT) withdrew all envoys, embassies, and travel agencies. The remainder of this section is therefore likely inaccurate. Please check for recent events and laws surrounding Windawill before making any travel arrangements.)

The Grand Festivals of Humg, the Land of Many Corners

Sat, 10 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Humg is, of course, easily accessible by any major reputable airline. When I visited, I was able to purchase a discounted ticket to Humg Major International Airport for only 200£. The trip took only three hours, thanks to a steady tailwind, and baring the usual slight turbulence, was largely uneventful.

Once you have arrived at Humg, your next destination will depend entirely on the sort of experience you want to have. Those who enjoy throngs of people and an unending atmosphere of vibrancy will likely need only follow the throng of tourists to the mess of shuttle busses outside the main terminal which will take you to the thickly urban downtown neighborhoods.

Those who prefer more contemplative or spiritual festivals should instead look for the smaller but no less numerous Ripjin drivers. Once you find one and procure their services, you should tell them to take you to the quieter and humbler northern districts.

Travel through Humg is handled through taxi and bus services. During the Month of Grand Festivals, personal cars are prohibited, so please do not rent a car, even if you plan to travel outside the city.

Chikurry: The Upside-down Storm of Durandar

Thu, 08 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Being a natural phenomenon that stretches over twenty leagues, transit to the Upside-down Storm is accessible from multiple towns, cities, and locations across Chikurry. The most commonly visited location, and therefore the best equipped to handle large numbers of tourists, is Fulldin’s Point, a small bay that extends into the storm along its south-eastern edge. There are regular bus services to Fulldin’s Point from both nearby Klendin and Redgar’s Falls.

Travel from Klendin will take anywhere from three to four hours and will cost about 30 stone. A round-trip ticket from Redgar’s Falls will take an hour both ways by bus, and can be purchased for as little as 10 stone. Some locals offer horse-drawn carriage rides to Fulldin’s Point, which is well worth the 50 stone price-tag, if you have a half-day to spare.

If you want to longwalk to Fulldin’s Point, I’d suggest starting from Redgar’s Falls, though if you have a few days-worth of hiking in you, Klendin is not a terrible option.

Chikurry: The Rolling Tides of Three Shades

Tue, 06 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Trep Haenny lies on the western coast of Chikurry and is easily accessible by bus or longwalk from nearby Kurgilchin. Getting to Kurgilchin is also simple; bus service from central Urdahl is expensive at 20 stone for a round-trip ticket; a cheaper method is to take a carriage or longwalk to Loggden, and then purchase a seat to Trep Haenny on one of the more unique methods of transit in our fantastical world: the beetlehopper.

The Mule Beetle is a fascinating breed of insect, related to the yellow mealworm beetle. Commonly measuring between three to five feet in length and two to three feet in height, mule beetles are incredibly docile, mostly surviving on fruit and decaying plant-matter. They are sometimes kept as pets or ridden by young children, and are common around the Loggden region.

In 1863, Renly Longfinger built the first mechanical beetlehopper, a vehicle designed after the mule beetle’s swimming-like method of locomotion. Intended as a recreation and novelty, the beetlehopper was soon used for evening rides and casual commuting around Loggden and between the nearby towns. While the beetlehopper doesn’t, in fact, hop; its shuffling movement causes a gentle back-and-forth rocking that can certainly give the illusion of hopping to the passengers. If you are easily sea-sick, perhaps give the beetlehopper a pass.

Chikurry: The Mushroom Palace of Porra, gem of the Belle Empire

Sat, 03 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Porra is the largest province in Chikurry, dominating the eastern portion of the country. If you’re lucky you’ll be able to find a flight from a major airline hub, but the more reliable method to reach Porra is to take a long-ferry to the Shoreden town docks in Lush, and take a buss to Porra from there. You can make the whole trip for less than 200 stone during the busy season.

Once you reach Porra, it’s almost impossible to not visit the Mushroom Palace. Roads, bus services, caravans, and even the gentle slope of the hills and valleys all seemed designed to guide you to the palace and its surrounding town, Stone’s Throw; some historians assert the topography was altered to make this happen. The nearby towns of Longfoot, Quillden, and Valleybottom all have easy roads and regular bus services to Stone’s Throw, though if you have the time, I heartily recommend taking a longwalk from Quillden. This road has some of the most beautiful sights in all of Porra, with pastoral fields and gentle hills giving you regularly amazing vistas. All told, the walk should only take you two days.

Chikurry: The Resplendent Foliage of Gnatted Hollow

Thu, 01 Jan 2026 00:00:00 -0600

Gnatted Hollow resides on the northern edge of the Forest of Pich, the largest forest in Chikurry. Your usual methods of transit apply, including chartering a Beetlehopper, sharing space on a carriage, or joining in the fine Chikurry tradition of longwalking.

My favorite method of transit is purchasing a ticket for the Longgaff Ferry out of Braghest. The price should range only from 20 to 30 lap, with round ticket prices being around 40. The journey takes about twelve hours, with food and drink available for purchase. The Longgaff ferry takes after the Gaff sense of hospitality, and there will be plenty of relatively comfortable bunks for travelers to rest in.

Chikurry: The Land and Its People

Tue, 30 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

People travel for all sorts of reasons, and one of the best reasons I’ve found to visit Chikurry is for relaxation.

I want to make clear; relaxing doesn’t mean boring. Yes, Chikurry occupies a quiet and humble place in the world, but if you seek excitement, don’t count this region out. When I say “relaxing,” what I mean is a place ideally suited for recharging your batteries. A place where you can relax on the beach, go out dancing, or take part in a music festival as you see fit. Chikurry is a pastoral place of some of the best scenery in the world, and is ideal for vacationers who want to experience more of the natural world.

Now, it is not my place to argue whether or not the beauty of our finest constructions compares to that of the natural world. I myself find the two are different enough that finding beauty in one is no barrier to finding beauty in the other, and the beauty of nature is astounding. From the Shimmering Falls of Elgire to the Ice Sword of Kiggian range, our world is full of remarkable beauty and uncompromising majesty.

The Old Kingdom: The Mirrored Clouds of the Nevvaran Conference

Sat, 27 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

There are several companies that provide Mirrored Clouds cruises. The differences are significant, so I won’t bother detailing each, save to give you some options:

If you’re on a budget, consider the Royal Vizier Cruise or Whitesky Tours. Both are quite reasonably priced, and provide comfortable accommodations and amenities. Whitesky Tours manages to keep costs low by reducing the number of stops on the cruise, making it much shorter than most other tours, while still making sure you see the most spectacular parts of the Mirrored Clouds. I personally prefer Royal Vizier, as they keep costs low by cutting back on luxuries such as on-board entertainment and high-end meals. This makes a Royal Vizier cruise much less ostentatious than other cruises, and more like a train service.

The Old Kingdom: The Tsavorite Vault of the Moneyed Monks of Kahch

Thu, 25 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The Ushkagoosh Valley is located just outside Esseck town, on the south-eastern edge of Mustain province. In walkable distance from the town, access includes regular shuttle services, taxis, and carriages.

Reaching Esseck is slightly more difficult, as train services reach only as far as Dorsden. Busses from Dorsden depart twice daily, and cost around 2N a ticket. The ride itself will take about an hour, so make sure you bring along a book to read. I highly recommend a history of the Everburning Torch, as its full history is quite interesting.

The Old Kingdom: The Caves of Esseck and the Everburning Torch

Tue, 23 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The Old Kingdom: The Effervescent Palace of Chairs and Cabinets

Sat, 20 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Travel to Belliboos is limited, as the region is largely surrounded by mountains. The most reliable method is travel by hot-air balloon, though there is a train line that cuts through the mountains. It is perhaps a more direct route, but certainly has less in the way of impressive views.

The Red Morning Balloon Ferry is probably the best option for most travelers, as they also include several minor convenience services, such as a currency exchange and purchasable guide-books and maps.

Travel by balloon will take anywhere from two to three hours, depending on the wind, while the train will only take one and a half hours. There are no meals on the train, however, while most balloon ferries provide at least a small snack and drink for purchase.

The Old Kingdom: The Land and Its People

Thu, 18 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Once a towering empire that spanned countless kingdoms and continents, the Old Kingdom has since dwindled in strength and prestige to the polished museum piece it is now. Countless ancient legends have their origins in the Old Kingdom, with historical mores and cultural tropes spreading through the ages. It is suggested by some historians that the world culture that exists today is largely a byproduct of the Old Kingdom. I, of couese, don’t know any facts of the matter. What I do know is that the Old Kingdom is a place of deep historical significance.

Personally, I have an awkward relationship to the historical. I am a person who tries to concern themselves with the present. While I do not dispute the importance of history, much less its impact on current events, I find myself somewhat ambivalent when standing in front of ancient artifacts or visiting the locations of important historical events.

Flororenghashst: The Owlbat Flocks of the Achinean Spire

Tue, 16 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Getting to Morlastig’gna and the Achinean Spire is surprisingly simple, given its inhospitable location. The Green-Ridge Flier branch-line departs from the Logoruun Spike in the evening, and arrives at the Morlastig’gna Tail at lunchtime the following day. Tickets will likely run you up to F200, though there are sometimes seasonal specials for local holidays and festivals, and sometimes bulk rates.

The Green-Ridge Flier doesn’t have seats, but rather cubbies for passengers to sleep and recline in. The Flier doesn’t serve evening meals, leaving late enough that passengers are expected to settle dinner on their own. They do, however, offer breakfasts from simple to hearty, and a small midday snack to tide you over until you can find lunch in Morlastig’gna.

Flororenghashst: The Nine Queens of Winterkesh

Sat, 13 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Winterkesh is one of the larger regions in Flororenghashst, and yet is one of the most difficult to reach. Winterkesh is an isolated place with only one reliable method of ingress: the Icepick Engine in Esquan.

While there are several ways to reach Esquan, the simplest starts in Fhanna, which is relatively easy to get to from any of Flororenghashst’s urban centers. Once there, purchase a ticket to New Dally on the Dingrun Flyer for F50 a seat. Trains leave twice a day; late morning and early afternoon.

When you reach New Dally, you will have to cross town to the Stables, a caravan meet-up point where you can purchase a seat on any caravan heading for Esquan. There are no train lines connecting the larger cities to Esquan, due to the mountainous topography and inhospitable climate. This is the longest leg of the journey, and may take up to a day if the weather is bad. Remember to bring warm clothing and snow-gear.

Flororenghashst: Akcriskkap, The Graveyard of the Forgotten

Thu, 11 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The Akcriskkap is a region of over five-thousand square lengths in the Egralpian sea. Easily reachable by ferry or flight, your best bet for cheap and reliable transit is the Barkwater Ferry. Operating out of Hamllerdad, the Barkwater Ferry travels to and from the Akcriskkap four times a day. Tickets run 100F to 130F, and the journey will take about three hours to reach Nightgroan. For 50F more, you can purchase a private cabin.

Alternately, chartered flights disembark from Gromswik Local at semi-regular intervals. Prices are steeper, ranging from 200 to 300 face, and the trip will only take about three-quarters of an hour. The flights will drop you on a small island just off the coast of Akcriskkap, from which you will have to charter a river-boat to get you to Nightgroan proper, for only 20F.

Flororenghashst: The Ironbar Cave Forest of Fhanna

Tue, 09 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Travel to and from the Ironbar Cave Forest is largely hangled by the Fhanna Ranger service and their guides. While traveling to the forest on your own is certainly doable, either via charter-bus service or rented vehicle, the Ranger service discourages entering the forest without a properly accredited guide.

The Fhanna Ranger Guide service operates out of Moortla City, which has several available train lines and plane routes to various travel hubs across the world. Prices will vary based on your origin and travel-line of choice.

Purchasing a trip to the Ironbar Cave Forest will cost anywhere from four to ten face, depending on which hicking path you wish to take, which guide service you purchase, and how much equipment you need to rent.

Flororenghashst: The Land and Its People

Sat, 06 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Called the Land of Errant Hopes, Flororenghashst is not a land for the timid wanderer, nor the inexperienced tourist. I don’t want to frighten you away from visiting this rich and savory land, full of wine-dark shadows and smokey forests. While it may be an acquired taste for some, the land of Flororenghashst is well worth experiencing.

All the same, I’ve been told Flororenghashst is like an exotic meal. If you don’t know how to hold the utensils or what sauces to dip different bites in, you won’t get the full experience. The people of Flororenghashst are a sturdy and humble sort, with a rich history centuries in the making. There is a deep reverence for history and the education of children in the country, and tourists are expected to show an interest in the history of any town they visit, restaurant they eat in, and even people they meet. It is not uncommon for a simple “hello, how are you” to turn into a long folk-tale about the surrounding region and how the building you stand in was built.

Heresy: Part 2

Thu, 04 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

They met on a small hill a full league from the city’s wall. The land was barren, with only a few dried husks of trees and sparse tufts of weed drifting in the wind. The lazy drone of alien insects filled the chill air, and the bright blue spot that was the planet’s sun beat down on Pwanji’s head.

She met with a monster. It was half-again as tall as her, covered head-to-toe in ancient metal armor. She recognized the design as one of the ancient battle-suits from when humanity first came to the Sirius sector, and it looked well used. That it still functioned at all was impressive, given its age, but she had no doubt that the Battle Brothers of the Founder knew how to maintain even the oldest equipment; given their lifespans, it was likely this was the Battle Brother’s original battle-suit.

“Hail,” she said as the giant walked closer. “I am Mother Pwanji Truevoice of Freecity Arpescious. Whom do I have the honor of meeting?”

Heresy: Part 1

Tue, 02 Dec 2025 00:00:00 -0600

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

Heresy.

The being that would one day be known as Vradhez sat in its pod, slowly spinning in its personal eddy, separate from the overwhelming current of the Flow. Its caste was one of the few among the Living who had this ability, much less the permission. The Living had long ago realized that in spite of its incredible benefits, the Flow brought with it its own challenges and obstacles. The unity of the Living was powerful, but so too could it be limiting.

So a new caste had been created from countless strands of DNA and mitochondria collected from a thousand different species across the Living’s territory. In spite of their physical similarities to the Prime castes, they had more genetic material in common with the great minds, the caste devoted to the Living’s memory and logistical instincts. They were not only able to see the Flow, but to escape it; to not just analyze and assess, but to imagine and explore.

It was this ancient foresight that meant the Living could survive the great awakening, the sudden awareness of their entire race that they were not the only sentient species in the universe. But how could they have imagined otherwise? Of all the animals they had ever met, none of them were truly alive. How could they be?

Eddling: The Adamant Cliffs of Poshlin Parade

Sat, 29 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Poshlin Parade is the large mountain range on the eastern edge of Eddling. Visible from across the country, Poshlin Parade extends from the Gorland Plains to the south, all the way to the Eddling border and Silver Lake to the north. The White Needle is its tallest peak, at 2,400m, and contains a total of 27 peaks higher than 1,000m. Reaching Poshlin Parade is as simple as catching a train or bus to either Loreidell or Grumwei, the two closest towns, and chartering a bus-service to one of the several base-camps from there.

Hiking the Poshlin Parade is best done with a guide. While the paths are generally safe, they are not easy to climb, and there are several places where passage becomes dangerous without suitable experience. Hiring a guide is simple enough, as there are multiple tour-groups and guide-services in both Loreidell and Grumwei for reasonable prices.

The southern edge of the Adamant Cliffs is accessible by Lopna-drawn cart, and a semi-regular taxi-service operates out of Loreidell. The northern edge will require hiking to reach, due to the narrow passes.

Eddling: The Rutile City of Nottish Ins

Thu, 27 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Nottish Ins is one of the largest principalities in Eddling, and the Rutile City is one of its largest urban centers. Most major train-, ship-, and airlines offer service to the Rutile City; check your company of choice for their schedules.

Travel within the Rutile City is made slightly more complex than usual due to the city’s different eras of construction; the central district is made of curving roads and angled corners, while the outer streets are placed on a more common urban grid. This makes travel in the outer districts predictable, while the inner-city is a bit more organic.

In the outer-city, trolleys and rolling-trams travel down every fourth street, and cost only a Qua-Tin to ride. Most of the trolleys serve one street only, while the outermost streets are served by “ring-trolleys,” or trams that travel a circular route around the city, rather than back and forth. These trolleys are labeled by letter instead of street-name; the A-Line, for example, instead of the Grimsby-Street-Line.

Eddling: The Ogre of Eddling

Tue, 25 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Hapsprat is on the eastern edge of Eddling, and is accessible by train and bus. Bus travel is best purchased from the neighboring city of New Ricland for only 3 scrip. This is the cheapest method of reaching Hapsprat, if time is not a concern; it can take anywhere from one to two hours to get from New Ricland to Hapsprat, considering traffic and weather conditions.

Train travel is the fastest, though service is unreliable; Hapsprat is small enough that trains only visit once or twice a day at most. It can also be expensive, depending on where you purchase your ticket from. All the same, travel from nearby Porriwat takes only 15 minutes.

Once you reach Hapsprat, the Museum of Eddling History is hard to miss. It is easily walkable from the train and bus stations, and there are plenty of local taxis that will drop you right at the muesum’s front door.

Eddling: The Land and Its People

Sat, 22 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Eddling is a young land, full of hope and activity. While most regions have a history dating back centuries, Eddling as a country is — at time of writing — only two hundred years old. It is full of vibrant and energetic people, eager to enjoy this world for as long as they are in it.

This is not to say the region has no history, but it is here that Eddling suffers from the same colonialist issues that many other countries do: The history of the country of Eddling is not the same as the indigenous people’s history. Thankfully, the worst excesses of industrial colonialism have spared the region, and there is a strong indigenous influence on modern Eddling culture, but this does not wipe away the scars that still remain.

Garm: The Yellow Bypass of Borrst

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Access to the Yellow Bypass of Borrst is as simple as finding passage either to the edge of Roshkana or Eastworrik Province. Booking a ticket on a stout ship or train is simple enough, and there are even a few zepplien services that make regular stops at the edges of the Yellow Bypass.

Travelers should, however, make plans regarding which side of the Bypass they wish to frequent before travelling, as while traversing the Bypass is far from arduous, it is time-consuming.

Garm: The Towering Fountain of Orrisen Park

Tue, 18 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Orrisen Park is situated in There-Upon the Bannen, a quiet region on the northern edge of Garm. Traveling to There-Upon the Bannen can be confusing for foreigners, as the region has a complex history that has not been standardized among other countries.

Centuries ago, what is now referred to as There-Upon the Bannen was three separate towns: Bannen, Malthen, and Esphea, each half a day’s ride from each other by horse. As each town grew bigger over the years, their borders began to blend. Without getting into the tumultuous history, there is still some significant dispute as to whether the three towns merged into a single city, retained their separate jurisdictions, or simply cross-pollinated so much that the political situation is immaterial.

Playing the Bad Guy

Sat, 15 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Look at the published stats for any “moral choice” game, and you’ll see that most everyone picks the “good-guy” path, rather than villain. We don’t want to be cruel and evil people, we don’t want to cause pain or suffering, we want to be the hero.

So here’s my question: why would anyone want to be the bad-guy?

Because people do want to be the bad-guy. Look at all the people who play Warhammer 40k as chaos-marines, tyranids, orks, necrons, and dark eldar. Count all the people who love playing Evil RPG campaigns, or relish in being the anti-hero. Consider how many people reach for red lightsabers and stormtrooper outfits, or vampire capes, or purport to identify with the Joker.

I say purport, because no one really identifies with the Joker. I mean, if anyone was really given the opportunity to join an oppressive dictatorial regime predicated on the suppression of the poor and downtrodden, no one would actually join up, right?

Some would. Some already have.

Garm: The Earlen of Flost's Labradorite Villa

Thu, 13 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The Labradorite Villa of the Earlen of Flost is three miles outside Trisden, halfway up the Freebarg slopes. Due to ancient edict and custom, the usual city travel services are forbidden from traveling up the Freebarg, and so reaching the gates of the Labradorite Villa requires the service of the Flost Order of Stablemin.

An ancient order, the Stablemin of Flost were originally the Earlen’s hand-picked carriage drivers, chosen for their skill with the whip and handling of their carriage over the rocky paths and cobbled streets of Flost. The post is now largely honorary and traditional, with a larger-than-average portion of seasonal and visiting workers.

Easily recognizable with their uniforms of puffy trouser legs and ribboned sleeves, a Stablemin’s coach ride will cost you only 3 scrip in the afternoon, to 7 scrip in the mornings and evenings. This low price for such a distance is due to a quite expansive public trust set up by the Earlen before his dispensation.

Garm: The Lords of Lamberly's Museum of Local History

Tue, 11 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Lamberly is a large province on the southern edge of Garm, and easily accessible by train. The nearest airport is the World Airport just outside of Roshkana, and transit from there to Lamberly province is cheap at 5N a head on the Silverail Train line. Most transit to and from Lamberly province stops in Lamberly city, where the Museum is located.

The Museum itself is located on Prosh street between the Valley and Dale roads, and all five major bus lines have a connecting stop. The Museum is well sign-posted, and the commuter-service agents are plentiful and helpful. If you think a bus looks too packed to get on, try to get on anyway, as Lamberly has a culture of packing in commuters; you probably won’t find a bus or train that’s any less packed.

Thoughts on Mx

Sat, 08 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

I’m Gender-Neutral.

Or perhaps I’m Genderfluid. Agender fits too, and ultimately every time I try to nail down my gender identity to one of the currently accepted terms, I come away thinking “I mean…maybe? I guess?”

I’m autistic, and for me, gender is just confusing. There is a lot that goes into it, a lot that comes out of it, and I just don’t flippin’ know anymore. I don’t care anymore. I don’t have the time or energy to devote to this when I could be planning my next RPG session or struggling to finish this dang-blasted chapter!

But that doesn’t mean I don’t have thoughts. If you need evidence of that, look at my post on gender-neutral nobility. Give me enough time, and I’ll fix all the problems with the English language!

Eh, maybe not, but I certainly will share my opinions! Thank you for asking! So glad you’re curious! No, no, the doors are locked, don’t bother trying to flee, you’re mine now! For the next few minutes, anyway.

Garm: The Land and Its People

Thu, 06 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

I must admit, to start, a bias towards the land of Garm.

When I first began my habitual jaunts, escaping from the cloistered confines of University and the drudgingly familiar, I first went to Garm. It is in this bright land of soft flowers and strong buildings that I was first introduced to our fantastical world, and all the marvels that lay hidden inside it.

I will never forget, at the age of twenty-four, sitting on the roof of the Hostil Rivore and watching the sun set over the Lamberly skyline. The smell of fresh evening bread filled the streets below, and the square across the way was filled with minstrels playing a Va de Runde. Laughter and singing and the soft clink of earthenware ale-mugs filled my head, until it seemed like the world was full of nothing but joy.

I swore then and there that I would see the whole world, and taste of all the beauty and joy within it.

A Realist's Guide to Fantastical Places: Important Travel Information

Tue, 04 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0600

I am always amazed by the people I meet who sincerely see no value in traveling to foreign countries. Perhaps they are too mired in their ways or comfortable with their habits, so that the idea of experiencing a foreign land sounds exhausting. Perhaps they are frightened of looking foolish or clumsy to a foreigner’s eyes. They might even be one of those unfortunates who believes that their own culture is the pinnacle of society, making visiting other nations a natural downgrade. I call them unfortunates, because these are the people who need travel the most, and yet are the least likely to do so.

I believe traveling to foreign nations is vital for a comprehensive view of our world. You will see people very much like yourself behaving frighteningly different, as well as amazing similarities to people who are completely different. The rich variety of experiences in this world are things to be marveled at, not feared or shunned. Experiencing the cuisine of another people may open your eyes to flavors you never imagined. Your new favorite food might be no more than a train or balloon ride away!

A Realist's Guide to Fantastical Places: Foreword

Sat, 01 Nov 2025 00:00:00 -0500

It is in the nature of these books to begin with something of an autobiographical nature. Not being one to break with tradition, I find myself at something of a loss. The obvious beginning is to detail where I am from, yet in my case that question is very difficult to answer.

Perhaps you wish to know where I was born. Or, possibly, in which nation I grew up. Different again is the nation in which I have spent most of my life. Instead, you might wish to know all about where I currently live, or else where I perform my daily work. Different still is where my mothers call home, and different again is where they each are from.

Truly, “from” is not so simple a word as it may seem. Indeed, the venerable and ancient Farseers of Raiy do not have the word ‘from’ in their language. Instead, they have the word eres, which might be better translated as “grows out of” or “pulls from.” For them, the ’now’ is a hungry beast, feasting on countless experiences and influences such that there is no extant past ‘from’ which to come. The past has created the present like a child building with blocks.

I, however, am not a Farseer, nor have I lived in Raiy, nor do I speak the language. Instead, I am a widely traveled lover of life and the exotic, the curious and unfamiliar.

Introducing A Realist's Guide to Fantastical Places.

Thu, 30 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Long Ago and Far Away was an old PBS show hosted by James Earl Jones. With a brief introduction, the show was a vehicle for children’s stories, oftentimes from foreign countries or based on old folk-tales.

I had an old VHS with several of the shows recorded on it, and I watched it regularly. One of the introductions had James Earl Jones reading an atlas, looking at maps of far-off lands including “The Cheese Palace of Pushka, capital of Brotzt,” “the Kingdom of Zeep,” and the “Outer Minor Mutaan Islands.”

Being old enough to know a bit of geography, I knew these were made up places; but as Mr. Jones said, after wondering why he had never heard of these places before: “but that doesn’t mean I can’t imagine what it would like to visit.”

That idea has stuck with me for over thirty years, and so here is my own atlas, which I flatter myself to think that one day might inspire someone else with places they’ve never been.

Stormcallers: Chapter 31

Tue, 28 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

There is a village on the edge of Madrain, called Ostra. Ostra was the smallest town on the island to have docks, kept mostly because of the dry season, when the nearby island of Galgasan passes close to Madrain. Trade was plentiful in the dry season, and merchants came from the nearby villages to share and barter their goods.

But this was the wet season, a time for the wise Madrainian to tend to their meager fields, or hunt the ordinarily ferocious wild boars that stalked the nearby jungles.

Kerrom was not wise. He knew this, and had known it from before he left the island to become a mercenary. He had known it before he arrived at Erosea and sold himself as a guard, and spent over five years of his life protecting his employer’s shipments. He had known wisdom was beyond him ever since that day, so many years ago, when he earned the name Sephehar.

And let this be a lesson to you, dearest beloved, for though it would have been wise for Kerrom to do as his king had commanded, he knew in his heart that he could not commit such cruelty as was his duty. So is Wisdom a virtue only when it accounts for the heart, and compassion.

Stormcallers: Chapter 30

Sat, 25 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Know this, beloved, for it is one of many truths this story will teach you. There is much allure in the act of ruling over another. While Teschemar’s heart beat strong at the thought of returning to Herathia with blood on his sword, on the other side of the Autumn Wall, Ceinneret’s heart beat faster still.

While Teschemar knew the battlefield, Ceinneret knew gossip. It is like a plague, spreading from person to person, through the air on wings of whispers. The Court of Cast was a plague pit for rumor. Hidden diseases from all across Cast found their way to the lords and ladies of her throne-room, until all were infected.

Even the strong can fall to this disease, but for many years it had avoided Ceinneret. Her place on the throne was a convenience for everyone, and to threaten it was to court chaos. Her father had ruled Cast as a beloved king, and even those who still ached for his rule would not be so quick to defile his bloodline.

Stormcallers: Chapter 29

Thu, 23 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But what of Rukiya? Was she slain among the carnage that was the Winged Saqur’s great assault? Was she burned where she was tied on the whipping cross in the courtyard? When the Slavemaster dropped his lash and ran, was she left to die?

No, dearest beloved, for the slaves who watched her punishment did not leave her side. They released her bonds and together they ran to the only shelter they knew, the slave-quarters in the depths of Terras Bastion. The battle raged about them as they ran, and they hid with their fellow slaves until the slaughter was over. They cowered in the darkness until the door was opened by a Herathian solder, who ordered them to leave and line up in the courtyard to be counted.

For it was the way of Tarras Bastion that the spoils of war were great. The great King of Madrain, had sponsored privateers and pirates to plunder the trade-lanes of the cloud-sea for years, and his coffers were bounteous. There were few in the whole of the cloud-sea who were richer than he.

Stormcallers: Chapter 28

Tue, 21 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But amidst the chaos and slaughter, what should happen? Kerrom opened his eyes. In the darkness he stood, as he felt the earth around him shake. High above him, noise, glorious noise, rained down like diamonds from above.

Now Kerrom knew the sounds of battle, and while he did not know of the Winged Saqurs nor of Teschemar’s rage, he knew no soldier would join him in the darkness. He knew he was safe from their swords and rifles.

But Kerrom did not wait. His first thoughts were of Rukiya, and how he needed to protect her.

Stormcallers: Chapter 27

Sat, 18 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now hush! Listen! Hear the silence of the night, that fateful night, when Rukiya slipped through the slave-door and crept out towards Kerrom’s pit.

Close your eyes. Tightly now! See the darkness that filled the corners of Tarras Bastion, the long and deep shadows that hid her from the Madrainian’s watchful eyes.

Brave and clever Rukiya, she knew how to be still as the tree, silent as the rock. She moved as silently as a quayla, and like a river-rabbit she hid in the shadows until she was certain there were no predators around.

At last she reached the Pit. She pulled back the wooden door and whispered into the darkness, barely loud enough to be heard, like this. “Kerrom?”

Stormcallers: Chapter 26

Thu, 16 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But what of Ala, once called Rukiya? Did she live the rest of her days a slave to the Madrainian King? Did she succumb to the despair and madness that claimed so many slaves? You know she did not, for else how could she midwife the Wailing Hour?

But it was many days before she found herself again, before hope once more curled in her breast.

That day, The harsh voice of the Slavemaster broke over Ala’s head like a whip, calling her to him. She ran to his side and knelt down, bowing her head in fearful reverence.

He had but one command to give her: “Fetch Bread and Water and take it to the Pit.”

Stormcallers: Chapter 25

Tue, 14 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But praise Atamato Cintona, the shackled boy, for he found his courage and feared neither Master Gentamo nor his own foolishness. So bright burned the hope in his chest that he left the Great Library and marched to the poor districts of the Free City.

There he acquired, with what little coin he had along with the promise of more to come, a tiny room above a food-shop, barely big enough for even a street-laborer. The roof leaked, and the street outside was full of mud and raucous noise. The smell of stewed seaweed below the floorboards made him sick, and his bed was almost as threadbare as his cap.

It was here that he began his many foolish experiments to find the truth of things. He dreamed such madness as to make the scholars and professors of the Academy blush. He hung a giant pendulum in the middle of the room, and marked its rotation to see if the cloud-sea itself turned as the islands did. He climbed onto the roof on the clearest nights to catch glimpses of the glittering ice crystals, to see if they moved or remained still. He drew diagrams, wrote formulas, and poured himself so deeply into his experiments that he often forgot to eat, which was fortunate, considering his empty purse.

Stormcallers: Chapter 24

Sat, 11 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now what of Atamato Cintiona? The Prezon’s Navigator did not remain with the ship when it reached port. So shaken was the poor boy by his experiences that he purchased passage home, to the Free City of Imbari. It is here that the boy who would soon be shackled found himself. Such was the fortune of the privileged navigator, that with but a promise of service did even the meanest merchant provide passage to wherever he wished.

When Atamato was young, he thought the streets of Imbari claustrophobic, filled to the brim with citizens going about their daily lives, talking and shouting and calling to each other. How he had hated the streets then; there was never any time to be alone. Now, the crowded streets of Imbari felt welcoming. It was here he had studied for eight years, learning about the systems and numbers that guided the islands on their path. Levers and springs, gears and slopes, brand new maths and sciences were constantly being discovered in the Free City. Great thinkers and philosophers created their own academies, spreading the gospel of science and math.

Stormcallers: Chapter 23

Thu, 09 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

How many seasons passed? It is not my place to say. Only Rukiya, now called Ala, knew how long it truly was, for she felt every second as sharply as a bluecrow’s beak.

Every day, Ala stood up from her straw mat in the slaves quarters and followed the line of young girls out into the small stone hallway to the brush-house. Here, the girls all took large brushes of short and course boar-hair, and scraped their skin raw. Then they took double-handfuls of dried flower-pedals, and rubbed them over their faces and arms, so their odor did not offend. They dressed themselves in un-dyed cloth and belts of rope. It was the only fitting clothing for slaves.

They grabbed brooms or brushs, and swept the fortress clean of dust, leaves, and dirt. They ran to the wood-stores, carrying logs and kindling to prepare the fires for lighting. They moved quickly because Terras Bastion was larger than any palace, and there was only so much time before the King would wake. Ala soon learned the trick of it, and before long she no longer felt the sting of the Slavemaster’s paw for being too slow.

Stormcallers: Chapter 22

Tue, 07 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now, at long last, Rukiya’s hands were unbound.

Instantly, the numbing pain that had ached in her extremities, that had become familiar and finally easy to ignore, flooded back into her fingertips, bringing a burning pain that stung like a firestorm. She cradled her hands against her chest, like this, so ashamed was she of her pain. She had cried and wept as she had been dragged off, not silent as Kerrom.

The man who freed her, if he can be called a man, spoke in oman, his w’s swirling around his mouth before the hard sounds popped out like bubbles: “You are now a slave-girl of King Rakhnagat. I am the King’s Slavemaster. You will call me master, and will obey me as you will obey him. If you do not, then you will be punished as befits a slave. If you still do not obey, you will be killed, and your body thrown to the boars.”

Stormcallers: Chapter 21

Sat, 04 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Days passed as the Madrainian Pirates marched Rukiya and Kerrom through the jungle towards the center of the island, dodging overhanging vines and sharp nettled bushes. They stopped to rest only at night. They ate only twice each day. When they passed around a small skin of water, Rukiya got the last few drops. Kerom didn’t get any.

So hot was the jungle, so humid the swamps, that Rukiya’s strength was lost to her. The air weighed on her shoulders worse than any rope or binding. Unfamiliar as she was with the foreign land, she stumbled many times, and each time she was roughly hoisted back on her feet and shoved forward.

At last, when Rukiya was certain she could go no longer, the jungle parted as the beaten dirt path became a thin stone road. The going became easier for Rukiya after this; the stones were small and pressed into the earth, providing a stable ground for her unsteady feet.

Stormcallers: Chapter 20

Thu, 02 Oct 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now, what was occurring in the Herathian Empire as they marched? The Steward of the Roads continued his spying of Teschemar, desperate to learn something of his schemes. Now it is important for you to understand that it was Herathian law that any citizen of the Empire could travel from one end of Greater Norrholt to the other without fear of beast or bandit. It was these very roads that were watched over by the Steward of the Roads. It was a duty that he took most seriously and studiously, and so ensured his many spies were fed, paid, and loyal.

But even the Steward’s eyes and ears could not be everywhere at once, and there were roads and paths that were rarely traveled. The main roads of Herathia were paved with soft stone pressed deep into the earth. The side roads, and lesser traveled roads were made of logs and planks laid on end. Only the least traveled roads at the edges of the Empire’s reach were little more than dirt and gravel, and it was these roads which escaped the worst of the Steward of the Roads’ attention.

Stormcallers: Chapter 19

Tue, 30 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

When the Sexton had adjusted his robes about himself, and left the Queen’s meeting chamber, Queen Ceinneret reached out to pluck a tiny silver bell from its surface.

This bell was her lifeline; the one constancy in her life that went beyond ceremony and duty. Her fingers brushed the curving sides for only a moment before she gripped the handle and waved the bell back and forth under her hand, gently, like this.

The sound was softer than the patter of rain on a roof. It tinkled so lightly through the air, that she scarce believed that it could be heard beyond the thick wooden door. But heard it was, and the door to the chamber opened as her queensmaid Melora stepped into view.

She gave a deep curtsy, like this, and her Queen spoke: “Prepare the tincture.”

Stormcallers: Chapter 18

Sat, 27 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

What of Queen Ceinneret? She now sits on her mighty throne in the Palace of Trethewey, mighty capital of her Kingdom. See her sitting there, tall and proud, among the nobles of her court. Hear them whisper and mutter among themselves as they play their games of intrigue. Scoundrels birthed scandal while ill-planned marriages bred ill-will and poor progeny. Bitter rivalries begat feuds that spilled across the court like tossed wine. Queen Ceinneret sat and watched, her heart aching in sympathy to those hapless nobles who found themselves too far involved in dangerous or uncertain schemes. She delighted in marriages that managed to be both of circumstance and romance entwined, and yearned to challenge the boisterous and pigheaded peacocks who strutted about challenging others with their own ill-thought and poorly framed opinions.

But alas, poor Queen Ceinneret, she was a monarch of the realm, and so she locked her heart away to rule without bias or inclination. Like her father, she saw her heart as an obstacle to be overcome, as she listened impartially to every lord and lady who entered her court.

Stormcallers: Chapter 17

Thu, 25 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But let it not be said, beloved, that Phalamili Rukiya was now safe. Still they sailed not a full ballast above the depths of the cloud-sea. The storms continued to rise and their final crate of food was almost empty.

When Rukiya and Kerrom left the Captain’s cabin, the first-mate saw what had happened. It was no small thing they had done; A slave girl from Lergos and the mercenary swamp-knight had killed the ship’s captain, and there was no greater crime on the cloud-sea than the murder of a fellow shipmate.

But what mattered crimes on a doomed ship? Leig, once first-mate now captain, demanded Kerrom and Rukiya to be bound and tried by the crew, but the knots were not tight and the glares held no fire. They all would be dead soon enough, lost to the cloud-sea forever more, or so they thought.

Stormcallers: Chapter 16

Tue, 23 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

What of Phalamili Rukiya? It was another day of sailing along the shrouded land before the Prezon’s lookouts spied another lighthouse. The distant light pierced through the clouds of Norrholt, guiding the Prezon to port.

When the Herathian port-city appeared, tall and dark against the mists, Phalamili was once again amazed at how similar and how different the Herathian City looked, compared to the Castian towns they had avoided only days before. Curled eves and paper lanterns framed the short buildings on narrow streets. Clean-faced men and long-haired women wore fur around their necks and heads. They were not Eroseans, nor were they like Kerrom, nor Atamato. They looked more like the old cook than anyone else Rukiya had ever seen. For not the last time, Phalamili was astounded by the number of the kinds of people who lived across the cloud-sea.

Stormcallers: Chapter 15

Sat, 20 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But Teschemar, Cloud Commander, was a good Herathian, and so he could not set his plans in motion before he recieved a blessing from his superior. Not the Emperor, no, but the High Varus of the Herathian Empire, Highest Commander and Ruler of the Herathian Military, Keeper of the Gate, and Minister of the five Commanders: Luvanar Testunava.

There were few in the whole of the Herathian Empire who were allowed to see the Varus. Even fewer were allowed to speak with him. There were only five who could knock on his door.

As Teschemar approached the Varus’s chamber, the guards along the passageway saluted his passing with their hands placed over their hearts, like this. Teschemar saw how their muscles tightened, and their weapons shone in the dusk light. The guards were strong, and through their submission to Teschemar they made him stronger. This was part of the Law.

The Varus’s door servant bowed low at Teschemar’s approach, and allowed him entrance. Such a room it was! High vaulted ceilings, rich vessels of oil and wine, thick bowls of fruit and sugared breads, and servants dressed finer than any noble met Teschemar’s eyes. Men and woman of every age stood along the wall, waiting to be given purpose by their master’s command. Teschemar’s cloak, cap, and sword of mark were taken; wine and fruit offered. None of the slaves dared raise their gaze from the floor. This too was part of the Law.

When he had drunk and eaten his fill, a young slave stood before him and said “His Highest Varus will see you in his room.” This was not part of the Law.

Stormcallers: Chapter 14

Thu, 18 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But now I must tell you of another meeting, that bound the fortunes of two great and terrible nations together. Yes, I say nations, for the Erwind Trade Conglomerate was as powerful as any kingdom, as strong and as prosperous; though it had no borders beyond oman, and no nobles beyond coin.

The Erwind Trade Conglomerate saw power in coin, and so they coveted their wealth and used it only to create more power for themselves, which they then used to collect more coin. Like the turning of the seasons, the Erwind Trade Conglomerate was an unending cycle that trapped men and women in its luscious snare.

It was this lust for power that brought them to the Cloud Commander of Herathia, Teschemar. The powerful merchants of Erwind thought he could be a useful tool, and so crafted many plans to bring him into their fold. An alliance, they hoped, would solidify their power over the cloud-sea. All they needed was to get him to agree.

Stormcallers: Chapter 13

Tue, 16 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

For two days the Prezon sailed along the coast of Norrholt, past the cliffs of Cast, beyond the Autumn Wall, and on to Greater Norrholt and the united Herathian Empire. Their supplies continued to dwindle, and the crew’s grumbling became louder than before. The Captain punished several of his crew for insubordinate talk, though this only stilled their tongues. Phalamili could still see their spiteful hearts in the movements of their bodies, their squared shoulders, and their darting eyes. Phalamili kept her distance as best she could, weathering the abusive blows and bitter words while cleaning the deck and fetching food.

When her duties were finished, she tried to learn Erosean letters and numbers. Though at first confusing, she soon grasped the core of it, and understood simpler writing and arithmetic.

The rest of her time was spent watching the lands of Norrholt as they passed. She had never seen foreign land before, and was determined not to miss a single hill or tree.

Stormcallers: Chapter 12

Sat, 13 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

It took two more days, two more greets, before the Prezon at last sighted land. Each day the sailors more angry, and Atamato’s cocky smile became more worried.

The fresh fruit and vegetables spoiled in the ship’s larder. Phalamili Rukiya sometimes watched as the old cook spread powders and spices on her ingredients to hide the foul taste. Hard-crust dipped in weak alcohol soon followed, as did the grumbling and frustration of the crew.

“They don’t mean anything by it,” Goduu told Phalamili. “It’s the same with any journey across the cloud-sea. They’re just being children, angry that they can’t change things as they are. We’ll survive to the end of our journey, at least.”

Phalamili was not convinced. “How much longer will our journey be?” she asked.

Stormcallers: Chapter 11

Thu, 11 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

When Phalamili stepped above deck once more, she was amazed to see how well the Prezon had weathered the storm. The ice had begun to melt, and the winds blew gently compare to their earlier tempestuousness. Ropes twisted in the wind like dried vines, and shards of splintered wood covered the deck.

But the sails were still full, and the masts still stood tall. Phalamili could scarce believe her eyes, as she had been certain the storm would have destroyed them all.

But the ice-storm had been a small one, the kind often seen on the cloud-sea. Loud and dangerous, yes, as all storms are, but the sailors were experienced hands. They had pulled up the sails, so the ice did not cut them. They turned into the wind, so the squalls did not crash into their sides. They had spread salt and sand, so the ice did not freeze so readily. Thus, they had avoided the worst of the storm’s wrath. Phalamili did not know this, however, and she thought it more evidence of the Erosean’s great magics.

But alas, there was one piece of the Prezon that did not fare so well; the stach-fin had been torn to pieces, and now hung limply off the ship’s side. Poor Phalamili, no sooner had she spied the pitiful wreck, then a shout came from the aft of the ship. “There she is! Beldam! Storm-blown hag! Do you see what she has done?”

Stormcallers: Chapter 10

Tue, 09 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

It was not the last time she saw Atamato, nor the last time she spoke with him. For you see, when there was nothing to clean, deliver, or watch, Phalamili Rukiya stood atop the quarterdeck and breathed in the cloud-sea air. The winds of the cloud-sea were always strong, pushing hard against her chest before flitting away past her hair and through her clothes. In the depths, deep cracks and soft hissing marked the storms churning beneath the ship. The smell of the air was at times cold and dusty, other times warm and salty. Ashen mists flowed over the sides before fading again, and the creaking of the giant balloon up above provided a steady rhythm to life at cloud-sea. A heartbeat that kept them all aloft. It was terrifying, but also beautiful.

And yet it seemed that whenever she was on deck, the boy Atamato would return time and again to measure the wind and mark the sun with his strange wooden and iron tools. He did this as a Navigator, but also as a student of the Academy.

Stormcallers: Chapter 9

Sat, 06 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

But what of Phalamili Rukiya? What happened to her when she woke again in the hold of the Prezon, curled tightly on the dry straw?

She saw the old face of the ship’s gook; Goduu Dzitugan, She of Gemstone Ear, Minister to the rebellion, teacher of the calling, bringer of quakes, mother, widow, daughter, and friend. At the time, however, Phalamili didn’t even know that her name was Goduu. “Come now, child, you can’t sleep all day, can you?” the old woman asked, because she had once been a mother, and knew how to deal with young girls. She could see the red rings that were the signs of one who had cried themselves to sleep, and her heart went out to this poor girl who was now the Captain’s slave. “Here, wash your face in this bowl of water.”

Phalamili did so, and then ate the tiny piece of cheese, and a square of hard-crust, which is a kind of sailor’s food for long voyages. It does not spoil as meat or fruit does, but neither does it taste. When she had finished grinding the hard meal between her teeth, she spoke to the old cook: “You do not look like an Erosean.”

Stormcallers: Chapter 8

Thu, 04 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

News came on a cold misty evening, when the fog of Greater Norrholt spilled down from the mountains and crept across the land towards the edges. A merchant caravan brought news from the capital, the King had surrendered. They were to be Wendshan no more, but citizens of the Empire.

All through Jarhaan, the people were frightened of what would come of their town. They knew the price of surrender, but never had surrender come without war. Would the armies of Herathia march through their village, burning and pillaging without resistance? Would they be taken as slaves and gifted to high Herathian officials?

Friar Henrik soothed his frightened flock: “Peace is nothing to be feared, and by the will of the Light above, our village will survive. Let us not fear, but hope.”

But Ysalla was afraid, because she saw how Friar Henrik stayed awake long into the night, his hands clasping and unclasping, tears threatening to run down his cheeks. She wondered what could make a man so afraid yet still counsel others to hope? In the language of her heart, it was a cruelty; those who were not cautioned were not prepared.

Stormcallers: Chapter 7

Tue, 02 Sep 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now, let us look to the other side of the Autumn Wall, to the land known only as the Kingdom of Cast. Called the first kingdom, Cast was an ancient and once mighty land ruled over by monarchs of great wisdom and strength. The castles of Cast have stood proud and tall for many generations, rivaling the mountains in age and fortitude.

A decade ago, the High King Terythein of Cast ruled from the castle of Benhavle, Highest of all Cast. Built in the exact center of the kingdom, Benhavle was a fortress filled with towers and spires and an overabundance of stairs. His favorite castle, it was here that the High King died, passing his throne on to the next ruler of Cast.

But what do we find in the tallest tower of Benhavle, not one ruler but three; for in his foolishness the High King divided the Kingdom of Cast and bestowed a third each to his three children. Each now ruled from their own castles, and it was here at Benhavle they traveled once every year to speak to each other, the rulers of Cast.

Stormcallers: Chapter 6

Sat, 30 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now, beloved, we must leave Rukiya where she sleeps and travel across the cloud-sea, to the island of Norrholt, the land of mists and mountains, of plains and dark forests. Greatest Norrholt, the largest island in the cloud-sea, torn in half by the great Autumn Wall.

On one side of the Autumn Wall, the side known among those who live there as Greater Norrholt, lies the mighty Herathian Empire. Once a land of many tribes and houses, now all united under the Red Saqur, the banner of a brutal and violent Law handed down to the Herathi people from the great warlord Zouhbal centuries ago.

Past town and village we must go, over the fog-soaked lands of rice and wine, of wandering needle-deer and watchful redcats. Deeper into Greater Norrholt, up the hills and towards the longest mountain range in the cloud-sea, the Saber Mountains.

Stormcallers: Chapter 5

Thu, 28 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The Captain’s Cabin was like nothing Rukiya had ever seen before. It was made entirely of wood and not a single spot was bare of something to look at. A tapestry of many shapes and colors hung on the wall next to a pair of mounted swords. A broad desk was covered with an open book, small bags, and a box next to a feather stuck in a tiny bottle. Thick wooden ribs reached across the ceiling, and shadows danced in every corner, cast from a glowing glass orb that sat on a small metal vase. This was an oil lamp, and Rukiya had never seen one before.

Her fascination was interrupted by a sudden swaying of the ship. As she looked out the large window, she saw the land of Clashwind slowly begin to move.

At first she thought, as would we all, that she was mad. How could the island move so suddenly and swiftly? Was this more Two-chin magic? But no, so smooth and gentle was the rocking of the ship that she had not realized that they were moving away from Clashwind.

Stormcallers: Chapter 4

Tue, 26 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The deal was struck, the bargain made, and Rukiya followed Hyleastus Asidi out of the Trade House. The Light Above had vanished and dusk blanketed Clashwind town, pushed back only by the now burning metal torches that rose along the street. The cloud-sea was high that evening, the swirling gray mists curling over the edge of the island and drifting upwards to meet with the curtain of clouds that was the sky.

Greedy Hyleastus Asidi took Rukiya to the great stone walls of Clashwind town, down dark and shadowy streets until they reached a small wooden door. Here he knocked three times, like this. The door opened, and Rukiya could hear whispering. The sound of clinking metal reached her ears, and then Hyleastus Asidi bid her follow him through the door.

On the other side of the wall was a guard and a horse. Hyleastus Asidi mounted the horse, and pulled Rukiya up after him. Taking a lantern from the guard’s offered hand, he kicked his heels against the horses flank, and the two of them rode off down the hill towards the edge of the island.

Stormcallers: Chapter 3

Sat, 23 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now I must tell you of the Eroseans, once a proud people, who traveled from their distant island to many a land in the great cloud-sea. They knew the art of trade and built an empire of coin to whet the lips of the most greedy of men. There are few Eroseans who can withstand the lure of money, and so across the many islands they traded food and fur, silks and perfume, jewels and steel, animals and stories of heathen nations.

But the Eroseans were no savages, and so they had learned the secrets of the Trade House.

Rukiya had not understood the Trade House, because it was a very Two-chin idea; to have an entire building devoted to offering goods and accepting bonds. For the Orenda people, it was their way to swear one’s word and the deal was done. For the Two-chins, one’s word was not enough; you also had to be in the right place.

Stormcallers: Chapter 2

Thu, 21 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Now you should know that Rukiya had left her village many times. There was not a span of Oleni or Orem that she had not felt under her feet. Yet today she journeyed alone, without adult or gathering of children. She had never wandered far from home before, alone.

Poor Rukiya, she had expected a sense of thrill or delight, traveling for the first time by herself. Now she was a woman, free from the firm grip of her father; but she felt no joy, no happiness.

Why not?

Who knows? Perhaps her mind was so worried about her uncertain future, she could feel no joy. Or perhaps she would not let herself rejoice while Old Wana lay sick. Or perhaps Rukiya had learned well the secrets of men, and so thought that to be brave was to walk with grim determination down the long and winding path. The day was young, and the light had only just begun to bathe the land in a misty glow. Young quayla darted out and back from the forests, plucking fallen seeds and grains once hidden by the frosts, and preparing once more to fly free in the cloud-sea, high above and below the floating islands like fish in a river.

Stormcallers: Chapter 1

Tue, 19 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Hearken and hear the tale of Rukiya, she of Puddle Tears, wise woman of Lergos, caller of storms, Phalamili, scourge of the empire, midwife of the Wailing Hour, Ada, shackle-breaker, she most fortunate, mother, daughter, and friend; But before she earned her many names, before the scars and wrinkles covered her skin like the bark of a tree, before legends were whispered of her among the many floating islands of the cloud-sea, her only name was Rukiya.

She only had one name? Why?

Because it was the way of the many tribes of Lergos, who called themselves the People, to give only a single name to their children. From the nomadic Onwatomi to the steadfast and bloodthirsty Biret, there was never a need for a second name; Rukiya was Rukiya, and she was of the Orenda people.

Introducing the Stormcallers

Sat, 16 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Ah, colonialism.

Anti-colonial texts are hard to write, especially when you yourself are a colonialist. In a very real way, anti-colonialism is not my wheelhouse. It is the purview and right of the colonized to write powerful and sweeping tales of overcoming colonialism, patriarchy, and religious bigotry.

Of course, it is hardly exclusively the duty of the colonized to do all the heavy lifting. Allies must share and uplift the voices of the persecuted, not subsume or claim their words as one’s own.

And naturally, it’s all a spectrum. And boy howdy did I hit the wrong end of the spectrum on my first draft of The Stormcallers.

RPG Errata: Brindlewood Bay, and Embracing Imperfection

Thu, 14 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Brindlewood Bay is a game that, to quote the website, “…combines Murder, She Wrote with H.P. Lovecraft.” You play the roles of a elderly women book-club, who regularly meet to discuss their favorite murder-mystery series of books. As de-facto mystery experts, the gang is constantly drawn into (or push their noses into) the murders that strike their quiet little New England town.

The H.P. Lovecraft part comes in with the Dark Conspiracy; a secret and occult plot that is behind every murder, and threatens to destroy the community if the players don’t thwart it. Along with all the clues you collect for each mystery, you sometimes find a “dark clue” — a sigil, a dagger, a note scrawled in an unfamiliar language — that brings the mysterious and evil plot more into focus.

Thoughts on Gender Neutral Titles

Tue, 12 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Titles are an interested etymological study.

Consider that we use the word “human” to describe our species as a whole, “woman” to describe the female of the species, and “man” to describe the male. Wouldn’t it make more sense to say “man” is our whole species, while “woman” is female and “human” is male?

That was how it was done in Old English: “man” was separated into the words “wereman” and “wifman.” (Note that I’m being general, here. This is not a detailed explanation, nor is it meant to be precise. If you want a longer and more detailed/accurate explanation of old english words, please go to a primary source, or a work dedicated to the subject.) to designate male and female. Wifman became the word “wife,” and wereman became…well, at some point we dropped the idea that males needed to be defined seperately from the species. “Man” became both non-gendered and gendered, depending on context.

Think about what this does. It implies that “male” is the default, that “man-kind” is the baseline expectation, and that being a “wo-man” is to be different from a “normal-man,” or a man. This encourages viewing females as an “other,” a being that requires special treatment of some kind, leading the way to thinking women shouldn’t read or study, be given the right to vote for how the world is run, or be allowed to speak their mind with benefit of the doubt.

The Game Moves

Sun, 10 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press. The following is a list of the card draws and rolls taken during play that resulted in the transcribed narrative:

A relatively simple game, Caveat Emptor has a lovely aesthetic and game-play hook. Playing the devil who twists mortal’s wishes and desires with cursed trinkets is a staple of old tales and legends. Simple doesn’t mean easy, however, and rolling a 5+ on 3d6 happened less often than on a 2d6 for this game. A statistical outlier, sure, but it made for an interesting dynamic. I felt the same confusion Ohog did when what should have been an easier sell turned out poorly, and a tricky roll turned out well.

The Last Day

Sat, 09 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

“Well, today wasn’t so bad.”

Ohog didn’t answer. The raven hopped from one foot to the other in discomfort. He wasn’t one for placation — wisdom and guidance were supposed to be solutions in themselves — but something in Ohog’s dark and plaintive mood was drawing a new and painful emotion out of the bird. Whatever it was Ohog was feeling, he wanted them to stop.

“Really, if you tell Mephistopheles what’s going on, you might get a promotion!” The Raven clacked its beak in optimistic support. “Think about it. How many years have they been sending devils here, ordering them to keep a low profile and sell subtly?”

“Over a decade…”

“Right…” the raven cocked its head. He wasn’t entirely sure Ohog had intended to answer his question, but… “Right. Think of all that wasted effort! Now you can drop your human disguise and sell openly! Why, you could even make the curses selling-points! More people might show up if they knew what curses they might get. This could be the start of a whole new market!”

The Sixth Customer

Thu, 07 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

The next day had started off bright, warm, and perfect to go shopping. Ohog had unlocked the shop with a spring in their cloven step, and a whistle on their infernal lips. They had woven their human disguise about themself with an extra flourish for fun, and waited patiently for their first customer. They had felt good for the first time in some time, and they didn’t know why. Somehow, they were certain that good things were headed their way. (Not in the moral sense, of course; they’d have been depressed if that were the case.)

It only took a few minutes before the door opened, and Ulrich Monau the Elder stepped into the store. Ohog was nearly giddy with delight, as the man’s deepest desire spilled out in front of him. Lucifer bless the Lutherans, he thought as he beckoned the man inside. “Welcome, welcome, such a wonderful day, isn’t it? Quite wonderful!”

Ulrich’s seething fury was not even chipped by Ohog’s sunny disposition. “Is it? It must be so by Satan’s hand, to mock us all.”

Could very well be, Ohog tapped a finger to their chin. “Why good sir, I can see you are in a foul mood; I hope you are not in some trouble?”

The Fourth and Fifth Customer

Tue, 05 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

Bartholmes Klingelvuoz was one of those people who was decidedly irritating, when it came to temptation. He was supremely prideful, self-confident, and annoyingly righteous. He had internalized the church’s doctrines on hard work and dedication, and so was steadfastly set on the idea of working for his fortune.

That said, he didn’t want to work too hard. It was threading that needle that was giving Ohog such trouble. What he needed was a curse that would ruin him, but slowly. He needed to become dependent on a cursed item so subtly that he didn’t realize he was using it as a crutch. He needed something that would drag him down just as he was cresting the hill of fame and fortune…

Ah! “Well, yes,” Ohog gently took the harp out of Bartholmes hands and lay it back on the floor, “beautiful music will certainly soothe the savage customer, but what every good merchant needs is quality. You need something that grabs your customer’s attention so powerfully, that they’ll never let it go! Something that they will keep coming back for, because no one sells as good a product as you!”

The Third Customer

Sat, 02 Aug 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

Ohog grimaced when Helisäus Chytraeus opened the door to the curiosity shop. They had been hoping for a challenge, or at least something interesting. Instead, Helisäus was easily one of the most cliched and boring mortals he had ever seen. Slow of wit, large on ambition, and small in dedication. It was the curse of all mortals, that their dreams always reached so much further than their abilities, or their drive.

Some devils said Pride was the greatest sin, but Sloth certainly made temptation easier.

“Welcome to my little shop of curios! If you need help finding anything, I’d be more than happy to —”

“I’m looking for something interesting,” the man sniffed, beginning a circuit of the store. “You have anything interesting here?”

“But of course,” Ohog forced another smile. “Everything in here is interesting in some way or another. Each item has its own marvelous tale…why, that harp you are holding was made out of —”

“I don’t want something curious,” Helisäus sniffed, setting the harp back on the floor, “I want something interesting.”

A Quick Vacation

Wed, 23 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Hello my fellow goblins!

I will be out of town for the rest of the month, and unable to post as usual. I’ll resume my regular schedule in August, next Saturday.

I’ll see you all then!

Reborn: Part 2

Tue, 22 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules, , and inspired by the Doomed Empire line of miniatures created by Oshounaminis.

“You don’t like me much, do you?”

Rishard paused in his pacing to answer the hybrid human-machine. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” Airn didn’t bother looking up. “I may not be psychic like Shen, but I can tell when someone’s not comfortable around me. You think I don’t see it all the time in other people’s faces? I’m used to looks of disgust.”

Rishard didn’t answer. He glanced back up the tunnel. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“No, I suppose not,” Airn’s mechanical arms darted across the open panel. You mind if I ask you a question?"

Rishard resumed pacing. “Can’t stop you.”

“Did you ever — Ah!”

The Second Customer

Sat, 19 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

The door-bell chimed.

This time, Ohog was ready. “Welcome,” they said, taking a bow. “Welcome to my curiosity shop. Are you looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?”

“Oh,” the customer blushed, straightening her dress in unconscious nervousness. “I am…just browsing. Thank you.”

Ohog gave a charming smile. “Well, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” With that, they moved back behind the counter and studied their newest prey.

Ohog didn’t know much about mortal beauty standards. They never went in much for carnal temptations, they had always found it kinda weird that demons would go in for giving mortals joy, even if it ultimately resulted in their downfall. Wasn’t the whole point tormenting them? Well, if the monthly numbers were anything to go by, the experts knew how to make it work for them, so Ohog let them get on getting on. Ohog much preferred torments of a less charming nature. You knew where you stood with boils and needles. A saw across the chest was torture, there was no give-and-take about it.

Reborn: Part 1

Thu, 17 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules, and inspired by the Doomed Empire line of miniatures created by Oshounaminis.

“There’s no trees.”

Airn looked up. “What?”

Rishard gestured around the horizon. “No trees. At least, not many. Look, I’m not going to complain about going on a treasure hunt, but I’ve seen Starhost ruins before, and they’re always in jungles or forests. At least there should be some grass. This is just sand and dirt. Barely any life at all. I haven’t even heard any insects buzzing.”

“There are birds,” Airn sighed, turning back to her work. “Shen mentioned seeing one several minutes ago.”

“Yeah, flying overhead,” Rishard leaned on their las-digger. “Probably migrating. I’d feel better if it had stopped by for a bit, but there’s nothing here any birds could want. It’s dead.”

“I promise you, we are in the right spot.” Airn’s glowing mechanical eye blinked, the only sign that she had flipped to the next screen of the file she was looking at. “Satellite positioning puts us within three meters of the target.”

Freedom: Part 2

Tue, 15 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

Gene Mods were dangerous things. Hart knew this better than most, and he was not one to quickly forget a lesson. A mistake in the synthesis, an error in the gene coding, or even bumping the manipulator arms could result in horrible mutations, diseases, even acidic fog that would fill the lab in seconds. They had been tinkering with the building blocks of both life and death in Research Station Kappa.

The cells were separate from the main building. They were connected by a series of airlocks with extensive decontamination stations at regular intervals. The Monitoring station allowed Hart — and presumably the former lab-techs — to see what was happening in the cells without needing to risk life or limb of any of his soldiers.

Had the Sonic Sensors not picked up a distant noise, they wouldn’t have bothered looking. What could still be alive in the containment cells after so long without food or water?

The First Customer

Sat, 12 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Caveat Emptor, by Exeunt Press.

Qhog tapped their long thin finger on the shop counter. Ordinarily, they would have felt bored, but given they had yet to see a single customer brought Qhog closer to panic.

It wasn’t so much that they were afraid of disappointing their general manager, it was more that they were terrified of burning in the Lake of Fire for even a portion of eternity. There were a lot of punishments in Hell — Qhog had felt them all at some point — and the Lake of Fire was definitely their least favorite. (Their favorite was the wheel. Frankly, they weren’t sure how the wheel was supposed to be torturous for mortal souls; they had found it fun.)

Qhog leaned out over the counter and stared out the window. It was a sunny day — at least, as sunny as it got in Wittenburg — and a number of souls were walking about, doing their daily chores. Several looked to be shopping, so why weren’t any coming into their shop?

Perhaps, Qhog thought in a haze of fear, if no one shows up, they can’t blame me for not tormenting any mortal souls? The hope vanished almost instantly. Hell was not known for mercy.

Freedom: Part 1

Thu, 10 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

Commandant Schuler was a prisoner.

No matter how he looked at the situation, he couldn’t see it any other way. Oh, the Lance-Captain had been very polite; had a slew of excuses, apologies, and promises of vacating the colony soon enough, but Schuler was no fool. Despite all the ‘sir’s and ‘please’s, there was no mistaking the tone of command in the Lance-Captain’s voice. There was no missing the heavy rifles gripped in the hands of every armored-soldier that now crawled over the tiny colony “for their protection.”

Even now, in the back of an APC with no one but him and two “escorts,” a fully-charged plasma pistol was gripped in one of their fists, as if the gene-modded super-soldiers couldn’t snap his neck with all the effort of cracking an egg.

They didn’t even move right. Schuler watched as the APC tore over the uneven landscape, pitching left and right, rocking him back and forth against the metal walls of the transport enclosure. The soldiers barely moved at all, looking for all the world like they had been carved out of the APC, as much a part of it as the walls.

Translation: Part 3

Tue, 08 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

“They’re holding their hands up,” Horva reported. “It looks like they’re talking.”

“Damn it!” Ranthar snatched the com unit from the nearby operator. “Whoever reads me, tell Squad-Sergeant Wythe that Lord-Champion Ranthar wants to speak with him at once!”

Horva could only faintly hear the talking over the coms before Wythe’s steady voice became suddenly clear. “I’ve heard that roar before, Lord-Champion. I was stationed at Enek Powerstation. I was part of the bastion force sent to repel the Hive’s advances.”

“Sergeant Wythe,” Ranthar was furious, “What the devil are you —”

“I was there, sir!” Wythe shouted. Through the binoculars, Horva could see his hand was beginning to shake. “We managed to hole up, about twenty of us, in the lower levels. We were cut off from the command center. I was one of three sent out to scout and bring back intel on enemy activity. We reached the main power stacks, but a Hive Lord was already there along with a whole squad of crawlers. It looked around, like it was sniffing at things, and then gave… that howl and left. The whole squad just left. We got into the center and reconnected our coms to the computer, but…then…”

The Quality Seller (Rewritten)

Sat, 05 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The Monarch detected a charming personality hidden underneath his ragged clothes…~ Filipino Folk Tale

Many years ago, in the old days of the land of Dup, when the sun was as fresh and new as a spring daffodil, and rainbow fish swam through creamy rivers, and the skies were filled with birds of all sizes and shapes; when the land was so rich as only an hour of work was enough to grow a crop of rice so pure as to be gold; when no woman was foul of skin, or wore hair lighter than purest midnight, and when no man was feeble, simple, or unable to support his family, and when no child would ever dream of dishonoring his filial duties; Here, in the old days of the land of Dup, came Young Keh.

Keh was a poor orphan, having lost his parents to a vicious troll that was later slain by a noble hero. The poor child had no roof save the sky, no floor but the grass, and no walls but the trees. He wore no fine clothing, but only rags he had found on the ground. He had no food, but only the nuts and berries that he could find and the fish he could catch.

Of course, so bountiful was the land that Keh ate better than many kings of today, and so prosperous were the people that even the rags he wore would put many kings of today to shame, but he was a poor orphan all the same.

Translation: Part 2

Thu, 03 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

The grunts almost looked harmless as they nosed through the underbrush, searching for who knew what. Tamryn swallowed his nervousness; they would look harmless until the moment they shrieked and charged at you with claws and teeth bursting out of their bodies like a snap-trap. Some of them could even fire their claws out of their hands — at least, that was the scuttlebutt. Tamryn didn’t believe it; he knew it was the experienced veteran’s privilege to lie to the new recruits. His older sister had told him it was both a rite of passage and a way for veterans to remind recruits that for all the training the Guild gave them, they didn’t actually know anything. There were some things only experience could teach you.

Tamryn’s grip tightened on his iron blaster. He wouldn’t have minded more experience before this operation. How strong were the null-pheromones? Could he sweat through them? Would the grunts attack if he got any closer? The squad was under orders; engage and then withdraw. Only fire his weapon in obvious self-defense. They were orders that made no sense to him, but that was the point of being a solider; you were a cog in a vast machine. The cogs didn’t know what the machine was doing, they knew only when and how to turn. That was what it meant to be a Dwarven soldier; serve well, bring honor to the Guild, and trust that someone knew what the machine was doing.

More and more, recently, it was getting harder to hold to that faith.

Translation: Part 1

Tue, 01 Jul 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story is fan-fiction made in the Grimdark Future universe, by One Page Rules.

Horva ith Irnwuld stared over the darkened forest at the distant horizon of the Maldadori Gap. The fog was dark with a hint of green, and the air was sour in the nostrils, the familiar signs of Hive industry. The scientists called it terraforming, but Horva had fought Hive infestation for years, and had seen the devastation left after the Hive moved on. It wasn’t terraforming, it was digestion.

She had grown used to the smell, though she was not proud of the fact. Her expertise had come at the cost of thousands of good men and women. If their charge were correct, if there really some way to end the fighting…

At first she had been skeptical. No, that was selling it short; at first she had been dismissive. Their own war-scientists had been studying the Hive for decades, and every report had been the same; they were highly advanced animals, acting on instinct and emergent hive-behavior. They communicated mostly through pheromones and growls, and there were no signs of sentience, let alone sapience, in individual beings.

Fan Fiction

Sat, 28 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

I’ve had an…interesting relationship with fan-fiction over the years.

I will admit, I was quite dismissive of the genre at first. Not the effort or the results, but the desire to tell a story in another person’s playground. Every fan-fiction story out there could be re-written with minimal changes in a new universe; why copy someone else’s? It was a kind of plagiarism in my eyes; a kind of laziness.

A lot of this, I think, came from my social issues. The idea of inserting yourself was — well, still is — frightening. You aren’t the original “official” writer of Star Trek; if you wrote a story about the crew of the Enterprise, you might get it wrong.

Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a silly mindset when you think about how many times the official IP has “gotten it wrong,” and that’s even before you question the whole idea of a story “being wrong” in the first place. I was young and stupid.

Catastrophic Connoisseur

Thu, 26 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

CW: Casual discussion of catastrophe and a callous disregard for victims of tragedy.

Some men just want to watch the world burn. ~ Alfred Pennyworth

Excerpt from the Autobiography of William Forthman, Chapter VI — My Years as a Critic.

My first taste of the bouquet of human suffering occurred with the Columbine shootings on the 20th of April, 1999. A simple black and white photo from the security cameras that displayed two youths with dead eyes exploring the human condition. Something in the pose of the child on the right, leg extended and arm bent, reminded me of a dancer poised to pirouette.

I was so fascinated by this picture that I started hunting down old photographs of catastrophes. History books were a prime source for me; I found Vietnam and the second World War, I found Cambodia and Apartheid. I poured over photos and recordings with a glee that frankly surprised me until I spoke with a sommelier friend of mine. She was explaining the intricacies and bouquets of the different grapes when I realized I was becoming a Connoisseur of Human Suffering.

Brilliant Insanity

Tue, 24 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men. ~ Willy Wonka

Wilberforse Heinrich Lampozza Mondavi was born on May 23rd, 2020, in London, England. Reportedly, he did not cry nor laugh much as a child, though his nannies and doctors and teachers all reported an apparent interest in everything.

He did not speak until he was five, long after most children had uttered their first words, and reportedly his first word was ‘Schadenfreude,’ the German word for pleasure felt at another’s pain. This was considered doubly odd, for Wilberforse had never been given access to any German nannies, teachers, or media of any kind.

A Brief Look at Grimdark Part 2

Sat, 21 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Please read my last post before reading this one, I’m kinda jumping in the middle of a train of thought.

A train of thought that began: in Grimdark Future, you can make the argument that anyone can be a “good guy,” depending on your perspective. Good’Nuff Gaming mentions this as a pretty key point for grimdark, as you aren’t supposed to have good guys in grimdark.

Now, in Warhammer 40k you could make the argument that the Space Marines are the “good guys,” or are at least not nearly as “bad guys” as everyone else. Sure, they’ll burn heretics, but the Tyranids, Necrons, and Orks want to genocide humanity. The Chaos Gods have plans that are even worse than genocide, so being alive in an Imperial dystopia is better than death and/or eternal torment, right?

In a pure Grimdark setting, that would be an open question. The peace of the grave might be preferable to the unending machine of the Imperium, and the torment of the Chaos Gods little different than the dead Emperor’s oppressive fist. Either way, the universe will look pretty much the same no matter who “wins.” In a weird way, the ideal in the universe of Warhammer is this constant war; the instant someone wins the dystopian universe will get even worse.

The Quality Seller

Thu, 19 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The Monarch detected a charming personality hidden underneath his ragged clothes…~ Filipino Folk Tale

And so it came to pass, that in the old land of Dup, children, when the sun was fresh as a new daffodil, and the fish swam like birds through the creamy rivers, and the skies were filled with feathered beasts of all colors and sizes and shapes; when the land was so giving as to require only an hour of work a day for a farm to receive a crop of rice so pure as to be gold; when no woman was foul of skin, or wore hair lighter than purest midnight, and when no man was feeble, simple, or unable to support his family, and when no child would ever dream of dishonoring his filial duties; Here, in old Dup came Young Keh.

Keh was a poor child, having lost his parents to a vicious troll not one summer before, and had wandered across Dup, searching for a family ever since. He was a kind boy, and fair of face, but his clothing ragged from poverty, and he had nothing with which to buy food. His hunger was satiated only on the kindness of strangers, and it seemed to Keh that whenever a young knight or lost girl would offer him but a scrap of food, some fairy or spirit would appear to bless the knight or girl with riches beyond Keh’s dreams for their kindness and charity. He was glad he could help bring fortune to so many, but sometimes, in the dark of the night when his stomache ached, he wished the fairies and spirits would give him just a small piece of fortune too.

The Glass Half Question

Tue, 17 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

I first found the ‘Glass-Half-Question Joke’ in as a child, in Gary Larson’s The Far Side. At its simplest, the joke was generally structured in threes. First the optimist, then the pessimist, then a third classification that was the punchline. Some had four or five, each punchline building on the last. I had collected one or two of these through college that I had found quite funny, and then just started writing them down whenever I found them. These are the only ones that stuck around, and so I’ve posted them here.

A Brief Look at Grimdark

Sat, 14 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

I told you that last story so I could tell you this one.

This happens a lot. An idea gets stuck in my head and I work backwards. Eventually I want to talk about the idea, but I have to then start at the end and work my way to the beginning of my thoughts. Brains are strange things.

So, let’s talk about a specific genre: Grimdark.

What is grimdark?

I’ll be honest. A lot of this whole mini-series of posts is a result of me watching this video. I’ve used the term grimdark before, always with a fairly clear idea of what the term meant, and this video got me thinking about it more than I had before, and not only because they use a different definition than I do.

A Journey Through the Untranslated Mind

Thu, 12 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

NOTE: As an experiment, many years ago, I decided to do some free associative writing. Words that connected in my brain were written down without filter. This worked relatively well for the beginning, but soon the surreal disjointed words shifted into poetic expression. That wasn’t the point of the exercise, and nowadays it does little more than underscore how depressed I actually was. Instead of rubbing our noses in depressive self-expression, I edited that section out and combined two attempts into one.

Ask my Know. He were no cigarette.

A start. Beginning at the crest of the flowing river starts a rolling wave through green grass and brown bark framing the picture of space travel. Hopping through lobster bisque jumps green and smiling while running, fleeing, terrified of black shadows that creep from home. Dark eyes of glowing red coals flicker, dying in the fireplace with a smoky smell of tobbacco and harsh sandpaper on the throat. A tricking water flow lands, turning stone into worth and value.

The Curious Letters of Dr. Prinassus

Tue, 10 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

His other slight peculiarity was the habit when distracted by thought of taking up improbable positions on furniture. ~ Bill Bryson, on Charles Lyle

My Dearest Lulu,

I have met the most fascinating man, today. His name is Finnigan, and he has been assured to me of a most particularly voluminous mind. Professor Lindly — remember him, my dear? He of the flowing hair? — introduced me to Mr. Finnigan as a student of philosophy, geology, chemistry, and physics. He seems a most genial fellow, though Lindly seemed to find him eccentric. I look forward to many great and wonderful conversations with him in the future.

I am glad to hear that your brother is feeling better. Having once received a fairly serious burn on my arm from a particularly exothermic reaction, I can imagine what it must be like to loose the use of ones limb. Please extend my sympathies to him.

Dr. Prinassus

A Brief Look at Genre

Sat, 07 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

What is genre?

I’ve talked about it before, I’ve brushed past it before, I’ve even ignored it before. Is now the time to have a long-form discussion about genre?

Nah.

I can talk a little bit about it, sure, but other people have covered genre in much better ways than I ever could. My go-to example is the marvelous Ian Danskin over at Innuendo Studios, who talks about genre in this third video in his [[Who Shot Guybrush Threepwood series.

Did you watch the video? Good, because I want to jump off of a question he begged.[^fn:1] Specifically, the question: “do Video Games tend to have descriptive genre titles?”

MacB! is a magically good time

Thu, 05 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Playing this season on Broadway, MacB! is the recent musical adaptation of Shakespeare’s seminal hit, Macbeth. Directed by proud up and coming director Joe Vanderhook, MacB! puts the full force of the best of New York’s artistic talent along side the best of classic British theatre.

The play opens with a prologue featuring the talented Elizabeth Kaine, Claire Rogan, and Kelly Fontaine as the red, blond, and black haired ‘Wyrd Sisters,’ the scantily clad mystical chorus that frames the entire play. Their opening song, ‘Double Double, (Toil and Trouble)’ sets the tone with an incredible display of pyrotechnics and a laser show that is used to supplement the finely crafted set with images of far off castles, smokey clouds, and spectral images that help accent the horror that the rest of the show promises to deliver. The song is well-crafted and danced impeccably with the frantic spasms of the performers providing a true sense of otherworldly possession, while the sharp and almost painful lyrics screamed by these three actresses betrayed their devotion to these complex and intricate characters. The completion of the first song alone caused a standing ovation that lasted over five minutes, sadly forcing the three women to hold their complex final pose no doubt far longer than they expected, but they maintained their stance with a professionalism and aplomb that is to be commended, if not celebrated.

Lupton & Sons Quality Coffins

Tue, 03 Jun 2025 00:00:00 -0500

I might be dead / but I will overcome ~ TJ Stafford, Rise Again

Congratulations! You are dead!

As a courtesy for our customers, every purchase of a Lupton & Sons economy casket includes this notice carved into the lid of the coffin for the recently deceased. This notice was provided free of charge as a complimentary service, to better prepare you for what is to come.

Many people have walked into our mortuary and asked if this life was all that there is. Does not some other life await us? We at Lupton & Sons believe wholeheartedly that your death, untimely or otherwise, need not be the end of your life!

Another Hiatus

Sat, 03 May 2025 00:00:00 -0500

About a year ago, I went on a brief hiatus. This was mostly done because I was feeling stressed about the content of my website, and wanted to make sure things were more polished for when I came back.

Of course, thing’s weren’t particularly polished when I came back, but nevertheless.

This time, I am going on hiatus because my new job (and a few other new projects) have cut into my writing time, and I haven’t yet found the new rhythms of my life. I need to

The Game Moves

Thu, 01 May 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This story was made using the solo RPG Monster Hunter, by La esquina del rol. Based on the Firelights system, this pamphlet RPG is about the Borderlands, and the last Monster Hunter who has the Scattergun of Destiny. They must find the Six Legendary Bullets to banish The Evil One and restore the Borderlands. The following is a list of the card-draws, rolls, and actions taken during play that resulted in the transcribed narrative:

Monster Hunter: The Fifth and Final Bullet

Tue, 29 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The dragon’s rotten lips parted, a fetid cloud of swamp gas leaking from the beast’s depths. “So,” the monster spoke, “you’ve come to kill me, haven’t you?”

Vic opened her mouth in shock before she could collect her wits. “I’m here for the bullet,” she said at last, reaching out a hand to steady herself against a tree.

“Yes, then,” the dragon slowly uncoiled, its head snaking forward. “Well, I’m not interested in fighting today, so I suppose I’ll just let you have it.”

“What?” Vic could scarcely believe it. Was the dragon being honest? She certainly wasn’t feeling up for a fight, much less with a dragon and without her rifle. Would it really be that easy?

The dragon hissed, sending a spray of burning liquid over Vic’s face. “You heard me. I’m going to give you one of the six legendary bullets. You can pluck it straight from my forehead and I won’t even eat you for your trouble. How does that sound?”

The Game Moves

Sun, 27 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This poem was made using the solo RPG Cemetery of Swords, by Efarrisgames. I decided to devote myself to three stanzas for every pull, as I thought this would give me enough time to establish the circumstances of the pull and detail the character’s reactions. What follows are the pulls and die rolls that created the poem:

Cemetery of Swords

Sat, 26 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The following is one of the Songs of the Thousand Thousand, a series of epic poems detailing the histories of the many blades surrendered at the end of the Great Battle.

For those unfamiliar: During the Era of Conflict, the Great Battle was fought in the three-square league fields outside the town of Radivale. While the instigation of the battle is lost to history, knights, warriors, and mercenaries from all over the world came to take part as multiple factions, kingdoms, and armies sought to test both their opponents mettle and their own. Heroes and legends were born and killed in equal measure as new troops constantly joined the fray.

The Great Battle ended when one of the greatest heroes of the era, the Blade-maiden and Bearer of the Seven Star Fulcrum, Ell Kidarkhi, thrust her sword into the earth and walked through the surrounding conflict untouched, surrendering the battle to her fellows. She was the first of many, as each of the thousands of warriors in turn thrust their own sword into the earth and quit the field. The Great Battle, having lasted for five-hundred and twenty-three days, ended that very hour.

The swords themselves remained on the field for generations until memories of the Great Battle began to fade. Then, eager sellswords and ambitious warlords claimed these relics for their own, imbued as they were with the indomitable spirits of battle. These cursed swords brought victory and suffering to their wielders, until all who claimed the weapons either perished or renounced their bloodthirsty ways.

The Songs of the Thousand Thousand detail the journey of each of these stolen swords, and how they returned to their rightful place in the field known as The Cemetery of Swords.

Monster Hunter: The Fifth Bullet, Part 2

Thu, 24 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The way was dark and cold. A rusted lantern with a small slosh of ancient oil provided enough light to see by and not much else. The sound of dripping water echoed through the depths. The darkness was unyielding, drawing Vic further and further away from the light. She had never ventured into the caves and abandoned mines of the Borderlands; the monsters that roamed the land above were bad enough, and there was little of worth in the dark underground. It was all Vic could do to not shiver.

The passages twisted and wound across each other like writhing snakes. Were it not for Vic’s compass, she would have been completely lost.

No, not completely. Every once in a while, the pull of the fifth bullet dragged at her stomach, tugging her down this tunnel or that. She was hunting on instinct now, navigating the maze of tunnels with little more than hope spurring her on.

At long last, a faint glimmer of natural light shone through the darkness. She crept forward, ducking through the small passage until she reached a large fissure in the rock, stretching up to the surface and down deeper into the earth.

Monster Hunter: The Fifth Bullet, Part 1

Tue, 22 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The lake water looked cold, but the singer payed it no mind.

The rising sun was slowly warming the nighttime air, the first piercing rays striking the singer full in the face, but it paid no mind to the sun either. It’s eyes had long since rotted away to a shrivled milky white. Loose teeth rattled in its skull as its head fell from side to side, a sound that was half a moan and half a hymn drifting across the gently rippling lake.

Whoever they were, they died years ago. Now, all they were was a fountain of suffering that drew the living and trapped them in their own nightmares. There were ten of them, at least. They rocked back and forth, their eyes squeezed tight, their faces frozen masks of pain, fear, and despair.

Vic rubbed her mouth as she studied the scene from her hiding spot. It would be hard to get everyone away from the monster without being seen, but the walking dead were harder to kill than most. Besides, she was running low on supplies and still had to get the ten people back home.

Humans didn’t last long in the Borderlands. The air was bad, it made you sick. Monsters hunted silently, and claimed their pray with sudden and clear fierceness. The few who survived for any length of time, did so because of either extensive training or a guide who had the same, and they rarely stayed longer than a week before returning to the safety of civilization.

Vic opened her pack and pulled out the last of her herbs. Surely, she had to have something useful that could keep the weathered zombie busy while she fled with its captives.

The Game Moves

Sun, 20 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This poem was made using the solo RPG Gentleman Bandit, by Allison Arth. I used the Mode variant, and played three times, rolling on the Poker Play table after each. What follows are the card pulls and rolls I made for each of the three poems.

Gentleman Bandit

Sat, 19 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This poem was made using the solo RPG Gentleman Bandit, by Allison Arth. I used the Mode variant, and played three times, rolling on the Poker Play table after each.

Monster Hunter: The Fourth Bullet, Part 2

Thu, 17 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

“Ah!” The sands settled for only a moment. “Brave and bold! There is little you could offer us, child. We who flit through the air know all things that the air touches. We hear all things whispered and see all things seen.”

Vic smiled. Her mother had called it a curse; the elementals had great power but cared for nothing. All the secrets they knew, and they didn’t want for any of them. “Then you know where the legendary bullets lie?”

“Hmm…” The air seemed to think, though it had no mind to think with. “We know of one. I lies buried deep in this very desert.”

Vic’s heart skipped a beat. “Can you tell me where? Show me where it’s buried?”

The airy sprite swung back and forth, a windy kind of childish smile. “Why should we do that?”

Vic took a slow breath. She had never dealt with an elemental directly before, but she had listed to plenty of her elders describe their own dealings. She had come prepared.

“I’ll race you.”

Monster Hunter: The Fourth Bullet, Part 1

Tue, 15 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Vic checked the map. “Shit.”

The southern wetlands were not the best mapped areas in the Borderlands. The marshes and soggy soil kept most people away, and there were plenty of monsters who hunted and scavenged in the land. Fewer places were less hospitable; it was too easy to lose your way only to find yourself drawn down to a watery grave by a misplaced foot. Add to this the fact that the wetlands were more likely than others to shift and change, and maps were difficult to make and rarely useful for any length of time.

Ironically, there were many reasons for Hunters to visit the wetlands; herbs of all kinds grew here, special ingredients of an arcane nature. Roots and barks, fresh leaves and buds from flowers, even certain kinds of mud were useful. It took a keen eye and a sharp mind to harvest the rarest, and a few were known only to the Monster Hunters. The chance of collecting these herbs alone was reason enough to risk a muddy grave.

Of course, there used to be people whose job it was to forage for the vital and rare ingredients, people who knew the land and its treacheries. Now, there was only Vic, and she was having a hard time of it.

RPG Errata: Another Game System

Sat, 12 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Previously on Oddscrawl…

Two Truths and a Lycanthrope is a hastily thrown-together one-page system I made from a friend’s pun. I didn’t spend too much time on the system, not thinking it’d go anywhere.

Thing was, the idea stuck in my head.

Things do that, sometimes. It’s like getting musical earworms, but about thoughts instead of music. I turn ideas around and around in my head, sometimes repeating the same phrase over and over again. Cognition has its own rhythms, melodies, and syncopations. The system we had made came from a joke, but the /rest of the conversation…well…

We had talked about White Wolf a bit, my friend and I. We discussed how Vampires grab the spotlight in American culture, somehow, while werewolves are generally overlooked. I thought about Vampire: the Masquerade and Werewolf: the Apocalypse, and how there are a lot of Vampire games out there right now, but not a whole lot of werewolf games. I wondered if there was space for a game like Fanged, but for Werewolf instead of Vampire.

So I started working on one.

Monster Hunter: The Third Bullet, Part 3

Thu, 10 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Vic’s arm swung before she realized what she was doing. The silver blade dug deep into the side of the dry-one’s skull, peeling the parchment-like skin off the bone.

The dry-one shrieked, stepping backwards as the clawed hands flailed at Vic’s skin. She yanked the dagger free, ducking under the clawing limbs as she drove the knife towards the monster’s chest.

The corpse lurched aside again, the silver knife gouging a chunk out of its chest. Dry cloth and thin leather flapped around Vic’s ears and face as the glowing blue flames licked her face.

“Victoria, it must be you. I wish I could say it was a pleasure.”

Vic shoved the corpse hard, pushing herself away from the teeth and claws. She rolled back on the ground before coming up into a crouch, knife at the ready. Her heart was beating like mad, her conscious mind was in a panic. How could he be here?

Monster Hunter: The Third Bullet, Part 2

Tue, 08 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

“Here’s the last of it,” Petra grunted as she set the large sack of salt on the bar.

Vic glanced up as she finished filling her last casing. “Good. That’ll be plenty. You sure you don’t mind?”

“Not getting much use for it now,” she shrugged. “And no one’s comin’ in again if you don’t lick this problem right quick.”

Vic sealed the cartridge with a wad of paper. “Well, I ain’t goin’ to promise I’ll win. Never fought a dry-one before.”

“What’s that?”

Vic sighed as she slipped two prepared cartridges into Petra’s shotgun. “The deserts, the windy places of the Borderlands…they do something to the dead, but they can do something to the living too. You get thirsty, even if you have water. You start losing things; your self, your skin, your thoughts…eventually, all that’s left is hate.”

RPG Errata: A New Kind of Die Roll

Sat, 05 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

This is going to be a fluffy post, because my brain decided to ask a question that I needed to answer: Is it possible to do a different Powered by the Apocalypse die-roll system that has similar results?

The standard PbtA roll is 2d6 plus a bonus, such as a skill or stat. If the total of these dice and bonus is 7 to 9, you’ve rolled 1 hit. If the total is 10 or greater, you’ve rolled 2 hits. Moves have different results depending on how many hits you score, if any.

Ironsworn is a PbtA game that uses a different method of figuring out how many hits you score. Instead of having three “levels” of hits (2-6, 7-9, and 10+, for 0, 1, and 2 hits, respectively), you roll 2d10 and 1d6. You add your skill or stat bonus to the d6, and you gain 0, 1, or 2 hits depending on whether your result is greater than 0, 1, or 2 of the d10s.

Monster Hunter: The Third Bullet, Part 1

Thu, 03 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Lakeside was a quiet town; only a few families, fewer children. Times were generally hard for the town, but they had always been so. The eldest Hunters had never known Lakeside to be full of anything but struggle and hard living, even before Old Splitfoot had staked his claim. The hard life had made the people of Lakeside wary, but through determined stubbornness, Lakeside had survived even in the Borderlands.

They weren’t the only town that survived — Boone’s Rest and Prudence both managed to scrape together a living, and Cloudy Vale was almost thriving — but the price had been high; high enough that Cloudy Vale was still paying, and paying hard. Lakeside was not only proof that survival was possible, but without making unwise deals.

The town had one tavern, and it wasn’t a good one. Lakeside couldn’t afford to stock their larders with food or drink from other towns, and the local still was the only source of moonshine. The owner of the tavern, Petra, tried her best to keep the barrels stocked, but she could only do so much.

Nevertheless, Vic knew better than most that every little bit helped, so she pushed the tavern doors open on their rusty hinges.

The tavern was empty. Dust covered the tables.

Monster Hunter: The Second Bullet, Part 3

Tue, 01 Apr 2025 00:00:00 -0500

There were few people in the world who remembered the Borderlands before Old Splitfoot staked his claim: legends of forests free of monsters, deserts without the wailing dead, and plains full of fresh water and dancing deer, sleeping field-mice and singing birds.

The true telling of it was kept by the Grand Order of Monster Hunters in books and journals held as sacred, to be protected above all else. It was a holy memory — there was a time before Old Splitfoot.

Now, the plains were dangerous.

The worst danger of the plains was their lure of ease. The plains weren’t the hungry earth of the swamps nor the treacherous cliffs of the mountains. The plains could seduce even the wisest and most experienced into lowering their guard just long enough to become the hunted instead of the hunter.

For Vic, such feelings were lies. There was no peace and quiet in the Borderlands. Silence was the sound of stalking, gentle breezes the same as a predator’s breath. The peace of the plains was the allure of a fly-trap ready to snap closed.

She sat quietly, staring over the cold and empty expanse. Even without her training, these plains were unnaturally quiet. Even in the harshest lands there were sounds of a twisted nature; birds howled over still winds while emaciated deer and coyotes picked through rattling twigs. There was life, of a sort, among the dead.

Two Paths Diverging

Sat, 29 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Do you know the Robert Frost poem, The Road Not Taken?

Of course you do. It’s one of his most famous. Everyone knows at least the last three lines:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

I have heard multiple stories about the writing of this poem. Generally it is agreed that it was written as a bit of a joke, poking fun at an indecisive friend. The entire poem, in defiance of the last three lines, is actually a bit of irony; specifically about how his friend would always regret taking the taken path and not the other.

Monster Hunter: The Second Bullet, Part 2

Thu, 27 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The drawing room only had two windows, and both of them were still intact. The rest of the room was bookshelves and fancy statuary, fitting for a high-class lady and sir to entertain their guests. Vic closed the room’s doors and forced a chair under the handle. There. They were as safe as they could be, for the moment.

The moment didn’t last long.

Only a few minutes after she had laid the man out on the threadbare lounge and seated herself on a ragged chair, a deep thudding sound tickled her ear.

Damn. Gripping her rifle, she moved to the windows. Leaning her back against the wall, she carefully tilted her head to peak out and see what was making the sound.

She couldn’t see anything. A fog was crawling up from the south and already starting to cover the ground in its white glow. The sullen throb was following the mist, an ominous heartbeat, slow and steady.

Vic licked her teeth. The building wasn’t a terrible place to fortify, but it could also trap. If she left the house, she could engage the monster — whatever it was — in the open, but that too could be a double-edged knife. If she could only see what the monster was, then she could…

Her eye fell to her unconscious companion. Damn, damn. If the man couldn’t move, neither could she. If there was more than one monster, or it decided to ignore her in favor of easier prey…no, she needed to stand her ground. As quietly as she could, she unlocked the window and pushed it open. Kneeling next to the window, she propped her rifle on the sill and waited.

Monster Hunter: The Second Bullet, Part 1

Tue, 25 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Vic woke with a start, gasping for air in the dark of the cave. Her heart was pounding in her ears. The air was cool, but sweat was pouring down her face. On reflex, her hand grabbed for the hatchet resting at her side, ready to strike at anything nearby.

The cave was quiet. The dawn light outside was leaking gently into the room. Vic exhaled. It had been a dream. She had been running…no, she had been still but the world was running around her…but weren’t her legs moving? And there was a…shape…

Vic took another deep breath. The dream was gone already, and she wasn’t interested in bringing it back to mind. Dreams were for seers and shamen, and she wasn’t either. She had a long way to travel, and wasting time with dreams wouldn’t help her find the next bullet. She stood up from her roll and stretched the kinks out of her muscles.

Her eye lit on her father’s revolver as she dressed. For six months straight she had been hunting the Borderlands for the bullets, and now the first bullet was in her hands. It didn’t feel real.

Manifest: Leveling Up

Sat, 22 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Leveling Up is an important part of RPGs. Really, it’s an important part of gaming in general; whether increasing your character’s options, adding troops to your army, or personally getting better at “the game.” While I certainly appreciate the latter form of improvement, I do want to add a more concrete mechanical form of “leveling up.”

In the 0.1 version of the ruleset, this was handled with the total of a Manifestation’s Tier and Bond. A “first level” Manifestation would only have 1 Tier and 1 Bond, while a higher level Manifestation might have 3 Tier and 2 Bond.

In the 0.2 version of the ruleset, the Tier/Bond system has been replaced with a single Emotional-stat mechanic, with Tier representing a Manifestation’s “Level.” This is much simpler and easier to manage, but what does a higher Tier actually do?

Monster Hunter: The First Bullet, Part 3

Thu, 20 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

As things turned out, the man was finished and standing by the ash of the fire when Vic returned. She tossed him a waterskin and hoisted her bag over her back. “Let’s go.”

“Towards the mountains?” The man coughed. “I thought we were headed east. What’s over there?”

“Me, before nightfall. Quit your whining.”

“What about the…the body?”

“Doesn’t keep good, let the vultures take care of it,” Vic sighed. “Come on, move it! We’re losing light.”

As they walked, Vic took out her father’s map and compass. They were heading northeast, now. If she had read the map properly, they should be about here, but if she saw what she thought she saw, they needed to be about here…

Vic cursed her father again. Then, out of misplaced frustration, she swore at her mother. Neither of them had bothered to write a proper map, and now it was her job to wander around the Borderlands, searching for the bullets that they should have picked up years ago.

Monster Hunter: The First Bullet, Part 2

Tue, 18 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Vic opened her eyes.

The icy chill of morning fought to keep her still, poking at her aching muscles and urging her to sleep longer, to wait until the day was warmer. Vic would hear none of it; she sat up, brushing the frost off her cheeks and hair and streching her cramping limbs.

The man was still there, sleeping as best he could while wrapped in what was left of his blanket. Vic took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Damn it all. Kicking dirt on the smoking remains of his fire, Vic walked past the man and snatched up her pack and rifle. “Come on,” she shouted. “Up you get. Time for us to get a move on.”

The man sputtered, jerking upright and casting about. When he realized where he was, he stifled a yawn and slowly crawled upright. “What are you…where are we going?”

Damn, damn, damn fool woman. “If I let you wander off, you won’t make it past sundown. I’m going to take you east a ways until I’m sure you can make it home on your own. This is taking time out of my Hunt, you ken? So I don’t want to hear any complaining about how hungry you are or how much your feet hurt. We’re heading east and we’re going as fast as we can. Got it?”

“I…I got it,” the man rubbed his face. “I suppose asking for breakfast is out?”

Manifest: Tiers

Sat, 15 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

Originally, Tier was a kind of “level” mechanic. It evolved into a counterbalance to Bond, so that you could either have a controlled, stable, and crafty Manifestation, or a high-Tier rampaging monster, uncontrolled and high-damaging. It was a nod to the basic trope of “strong or smart.”

That’s been simplified with the single-number stat mechanic we have now, so what use is Tier? Well, “level” wasn’t the only way all the monster-collector games ranked their different mons. A lot of them also had “evolutions.”

Time to bring that back, I think.

Monster Hunter: The First Bullet, Part 1

Thu, 13 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The locals called it Old Man Hollow. Vic Duncan called it warm and dry, and in the Borderlands, especially during the cold times of the year, that weren’t nothing to sneeze at.

That said, it wouldn’t remain warm and dry much longer. The sound of rain and thunder was rolling across the distant plains; if Vic wanted to beat the rain, she figured, she’d have to start moving soon.

When she was younger — back when she had first became a hunter — part of her would have wanted to remain surrounded by the gnarled hangman-trees that cradled her small camp. These small moments of warmth and security were rare in the Borderlands, and she used to take all she could get. That part of her had died a long time ago; there was no comfort to be had here, surrounded by ancient woods and dark shadows. Ever since Old Splitfoot came to the Borderlands, there was little comfort to be had anywhere, least of all for Hunters.

Vic began to pack up: her father’s old map and compass, her mother’s traveling pan, her roll and flask, her last few bits of food…it all went into her saddlebags. When was the last time she had seen a horse? There were still a few back in the corelands, but not many hunters ever rode horseback. Horses were too unpredicatble when it came to the Hunt. If they weren’t prepared they’d never survive, and there was nothing that could prepare you for your first time in the Borderlands. Too many horses died or caused trouble to be worth the risk.

The Cat and the Calculator: Part 2

Tue, 11 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0500

The Calculator crawled along the many surfaces, gently poking its way through and around the different detritus surrounding the floor. There were ancient rusted urns and tarnished pots, scraps of withered parchment and dry leather. Some spots held tiny jewels or metallic chains, or small rings made of silver alloy and porcelain.

The Calculator studied each one, noting the size and shape, as well as any other pertinent details. As time passed and its inner clockwork continued to churn, it realized a question was beginning to develop. The pieces were all old, and certainly significant — for why else would they be on display like this? — but none of them were the sort of things that were usually put in a museum or collection.

The more the Calculator looked, the more certain it became: an unsigned letter, a shard of a broken pendent, an unremarkable cup, a fired clay statue of a bird…these things had all belonged to one person.

The Calculator admonished its heretical sense of certainty; the collection could be an entire family’s belongings, or perhaps everything from a single rubbish pile.

Manifest: LP and Manifesting

Sat, 08 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0600

One of the big questions raised by this restructuring is: how to handle LP?

Hit points drastically effect how a game plays: how abundant they are, how easy they are to lose or regain, and any other uses for them all have a significant impact on an RPG. Are Manifestations fragile or robust? How many turns, on average, will it take for a Manifestation to kill another Manifestation of the same Tier? A higher Tier? Lower?

Can LP be used for other purposes? Are some special abilities fueled by LP? Can any Manifestation spend LP to boost their POWER or CONTROL, or only ones with a specific passive? Can Manifestations heal their own LP? Other’s LP? Is it only the Agent’s job?

I can answer that last one: for Manifest v0.2, I want to keep healing as an exclusive Agent ability. I also want Manifestations to be fragiler than not, thereby giving weight to the decision of healing a Manifestation vs re-summoning it later. I also don’t want the game to drag, and fragile units can help speed things up. None of that gives solid numbers, though — a 100 HP wizard is pretty fragile if a dagger does 500 damage — so how do I decide how much LP to give Manifestations?

The Cat and the Calculator: Part 1

Thu, 06 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0600

For the first time in perhaps sixty years, the Cat and the Calculator agreed on something.

“It’s here,” the Cat muttered again. “I’m sure of it.”

The Calculator sniffed in mild derision. Who knew, in the whole of the Myriad Worlds why the Cat was sure of anything. It hadn’t even bothered to look properly. It had just sat there, seeming pleased with itself, while the Calculator had done all the work.

It didn’t blame the Cat, of course. It had at first; almost sixty years ago, the Cat had confused the Calculator terribly. It was an ordained priest of the Linear Church, and had certain expectations about the world. It didn’t expect perfection — only high deacons, like the calculator, knew all thirty-six of the divine senses — but the mangy beast didn’t even seem to use the four or five they did know about.

Now, some three-score years later, they had come to an understanding.

An Adjustment to Format

Wed, 05 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Hey there everyone!

Just to keep you all in the loop, I got a new job recently.

A lot is going through my head about this job. It’s part time work at a library, very neurodivergent friendly, and my supervisor seems incredibly kind, patient, and supportive. I haven’t been out of the apartment in any regular capacity since before the Pandemic; at least 2017, probably earlier if we’re talking daily work. That’s over eight years of isolationist habit I’m working against, and a lot of social fear that I’m coming to terms with.

RPG Errata: Poe's Law and the Dangers of Role-play

Tue, 04 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Let me start by saying, I am not a “fan” of Warhammer 40k.

I know nothing about the different editions, which codexes worked and which ones didn’t, I don’t know the meta of the game, nor the many myriad social and political intricacies that go into being a devoted fan. I don’t want to come in here like “I spent a few months reading the comment section in Tabletop Tactics videos, so now let me tell you something about Warhammer.”

But I do want to comment on Warhammer 40k, because I have seen a few interesting aspects in “the discourse.” I can’t comment how important or significant any of this discourse is, but it does relate to RPGs — specifically the hobby aspect of it — so I’d like to discuss.

Specifically, I’d like to discuss the Space Marines.

Manifest: The Die Pool and Investing

Sat, 01 Mar 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Last time I went over some issues regarding the die-pool, namely its size and where it came from. I looked at a few sizes and found myself torn between an average die-pool size of 5 or 10.

Thankfully, an easy solution has presented itself — doubly easy because it will be simple to change if I need to.

Die-Pools are built by totaling an Agent’s emotional stats and dividing by two. Human average is 2 apiece, and I’m currently playing with Agents having a 10 to 14 stat-point limit, so that naturally puts the die-pool in the 5 to 7 range. If I decide to switch to 10, then I drop the dividing-by-two bit. No fuss!

Oh, also I came up with a better name for Sync. Now, ability rolls will be divided into POWER and CONTROL.

RPG Errata: Miniature Wargaming

Thu, 27 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

I’ve been getting into miniature wargaming, recently.

Well, “getting into” might require some qualification. I haven’t been purchasing and painting miniatures or anything, but I am recognizing that my love of RPGs is bleeding into the wargaming sphere in a surprising manner. I decided to explore this phenomenon and came up with several interesting points. After all, I’ve talked at length about the influence of Miniature Wargaming on the hobby, but there is a case to be made that I’ve ignored Miniature Wargaming as a kind of RPG.

As I’ve discussed before, it’s hard to separate the two completely; combat can be a story and story can inform combat both in some very real ways. Ignoring that fact, even just brushing past it, can leave our understanding of the RPG Medium underdeveloped.

Last Tea Shop: The Game Moves

Wed, 26 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Tea Shop (Classic), by Spring Villager. The one-page RPG gave very little in the way of guidance, and the rolling was quick, so the game ended up quite quick and easy to play. The following is a list of the rolls and actions taken during play that resulted in the transcribed narrative:

Last Tea Shop: The Veiled One

Tue, 25 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

It was raining.

Not a downpour, but a chill drizzle, persistent and steady. The whole world seemed tired somehow; the mountain breeze was slow drifting through the pass and the river beneath the bridge was quiet. A calm had descended over the pass like a blanket, keeping everything still and peaceful.

Ild twisted the sage between her fingers, staring at the fibrous herb with something like trepidation. The soft popping of the boiling water tickled the back of her mind as she stared, aimlessly stroking a cluster of mice where they rested on her lap. She listened to the sound of the rain pattering on the roof, ticking and tapping away like a broken clock. The whole hut shuttered from the wind, and drops of rain were leaking in to drip on the old clothes, tarnished metals, and smooth wooden furniture.

“Pah,” she said at last, nudging the mice on their way. “If it’s time, it’s time.” Standing up from her chair, she walked over to the pot and dropped the sage in the water. She watched as the water slowly faded from clear to a murky gray, then brightened to a light green. Leaving it to seep, she reached out to pluck her old ragged coat from the pile and slip it on. “Keep watch,” she said, unnecessarily, as she unbolted the shaky door.

Manifest: Stat-Investment Rework

Sat, 22 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Last time, I went through what I learned from the first playtest of Manifest v0.1, and made a quick-and-dirty skeleton for moving forward. This time, I’d like to…well, start moving forward.

First and foremost, I’d like to take a harder look at the basic Stat-Investment Power Roll, and see if I can’t find ways to smooth it out, both ludo-narratively and statistically.

So, let’s go to Anydice!

Last Tea Shop: The Diplomat

Thu, 20 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Ild stared at the empty shelf. “Well.”

The gentle squeaking of mice filled the cabin as she stared. Tiny bodies, dressed in fur ranging from white to brown to black and back again, darted across the room like flashes of lightning in a thunderstorm.

“Well,” Ild muttered again. “This is a bit of a problem.”

A few of the mice stood on her shoulders and crawled through her hair, seeking warmth and comfort from the whispering mists outside the threadbare shack. Those that stared at the empty shelf did so with quivering whiskers and ears twitching in fear. Periodically, Ild reached up to gently brush their backs and heads with a soothing thumb. She glanced at the pane-less windows, where tendrils of dark mist were slowly seeping in.

“Don’t worry,” she muttered to her furry friends. “We’re safe. They’re not here for us.”

Last Tea Shop: The Hermit

Tue, 18 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

The old man looked around, blinking in the fog. How long ago had he gotten lost? He had been wandering for some time now, and he didn’t recognize anything. He should have; he knew these forests like the back of his hand. Nevertheless, he had completely lost track of where he was. His cabin should be near, shouldn’t it?

Again, he was sure he had seen movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, peering into the fog. “Hello?”

Nothing. He was alone.

He kept climbing the steep path, (surely, his cabin wasn’t this high up, was it?) searching for some tree or rock that he recognized. Periodically a shape tickled his memory and he found himself turning on his heel, left or right, only for the shadow to vanish into the mist.

He wasn’t frightened — he had survived in the woods for weeks on end without flint or knife before — but he was confused. He wasn’t even thirsty, yet he had been walking for what felt like days…

Manifest: The First Playtest

Sat, 15 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

I was originally planning on doing a few different playtests before commenting, but the first playtest was pretty definitive, and I feel good about its results.

Thanks to the efforts of “P,” “C,” “S,” and “W,” (Names obviously hidden to respect privacy) I have decided which die-roll mechanic to use going forward. The winner is the third option, Pooled-Single-Number.

I’ll come up with a better name by the end of this post.

Last Tea Shop: The Tailor

Thu, 13 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Ild looked up at the sudden rapping at her door. It was fast and shook the whole cabin, so strong were the blows. Ild set aside her knitting with a huff and pulled herself out of her chair. “Yes, yes, hold yer horses! I only got so wide a stride, you know…”

The door opened to a terrified face, a man with pale skin and hollow cheeks. His wrinkles quivered as his head jerked back and forth, gasping for breath as he cast horrified glances behind him.

Ild knew what was scaring him. She had known since the shadowed mists had poured down the mountainside.

“Well, you’d best come inside, then,” she said, pulling the tall old man through the doorway. “Don’t you worry your head about it. The voices never harmed nobody, and they certainly ain’t going to start with somethin’ as tough and scrawny as you.”

The man wiped his forehead and sank heavily into the offered chair. The wood creaked loudly as he tipped forward, his head landing in his hands as he gasped for breath.

Ild hurried to the open windows and covered the openings with squares of fabric. “Not much for curtains,” she explained as she worked, “but they’ll keep out the worst of it.” She clicked her tongue as she adjusted the fabric. “Shadow mists, eh? Nasty bit o’ business, that. Been running a long time, I’ll bet. I was expecting you days ago.”

Last Tea Shop: The Stablehand

Tue, 11 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The purple fog rolled in like a flood. It curled up the side of the mountain, falling over itself in a crawling tide. The dark bruised color of the mists blanketed the river in shadows, until the entire river was hidden from view.

Ild gave a sharp sniff as she looked out the window. “Tough one coming in,” she muttered to the small squeaker on her shoulder. “Lost something, I’ll warrant. May not even know what. You think he’ll stop by?”

The tiny mouse nuzzled Ild’s withered cheek, jiggling her loose jowls with a gentle squeak. The tiny whiskers tickled and caught her own as Ild gave a gentle sigh. “Well, I’d better put the kettle on.”

Alluring Alliteration

Sat, 08 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

[It contains] a total want of literary attractiveness ~ review of Sir Rodrick Murchison’s ‘Siluria’

There is a common question bandied about literary circles, when the band of brothers spend their restful hours in smoking rooms, and tongues have been well loosened with free-flowing brandy. It should be no surprise to anyone that when a group of seasoned men get together that questions of a potentially offensive nature get asked.

It is a ribald cliche of men that they are either ‘Sans or Serifs’ men, and focus their attentions on words or lettering that ascribes to this basic quality. I cannot deny that the distinction is a significant one, and I have several friends who will spend hours on the seemingly innocuous topic of Sans font, and the beautiful curves and long lines of a good Ariel typeset. I admit, I have always found myself drawn to Serifs.

Ratqueen: The Game Moves

Fri, 07 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Ratqueen, was created by transcribing the narrative created by playing the solo RPG Rattenkönigin, by Abbax. What follows are the rolls I made during the first successful game I played.

Ratqueen

Thu, 06 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Darkness scratching, the squeal of young, gnawing and ravenous, the HUNGER grows. Instincts many, a need to scurry, fnd the places safe and dark. Nowhere truly safe, nowhere to escape the clawing need for food.

We are many, and the many are safe. Smell of fur and flesh, air filled wit foul rot and dirt. A nest of castoffs, trash and refuse that hides our coveted treasure, our food, our young, our selves. They hunt us, but they do not find us.

Instinct. No time to think or plan, no time to prepare or horde. Survival. Bite. Claw Feed. Then scurry away to live another day.

We survive.

We dream.

RPG Errata: Safety and Immersion

Tue, 04 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

I’ve avoided writing this post for some time. Ever since my first post on the X-card.

Immersion, as I said in my last few posts, is fragile. I blew past several opportunities to discuss how immersion is affected by safety tools, but I always thought it was too big a subject to just slot in. The few times I even tried, it always came across like I was suggesting Safety Tools weren’t mandatory, and should be weighed against the corresponding loss in immersion.

That’s nonsense. You should always feel safe.

But I can’t avoid it any longer; safety tools are necessary, but they’re not inert. Adding safety tools to your game affects it, and we need to explore how. Much like Patriarchy and Toxic Masculinity, we only make our job harder if we do not understand precisely what we are asking others to sacrifice, even if it appears ridiculous to us.

Lighthouse at the End of the World: The Game Moves

Mon, 03 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The game Lighthouse at the End of the World uses the Wretched and Alone SRD, a system designed to tell stories of horror, sadness, and hopelessness. You’re not supposed to “win” these games often, and this play reflects that, I feel. What follows are the die-rolls, card-draws, and tower-pulls that created the events that I turned into my short-story.

Lighthouse at the End of the World: Part 3

Sat, 01 Feb 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Thomas stared up at the lighthouse.

When he had first arrived, it had looked like a beacon of hope, a place to hide and live out the rest of his days; a stone tomb he had interred himself in to rest at last. Now, it looked like a jail, a prison of intangible cell-mates who tormented him every day with their absent lives.

He used to try to ignore them. He spent his days struggling to do his work without acknowledging their presence, and it hadn’t worked. They had only begun to shout louder, manifesting as horrible images of suffering and half-eaten corpses.

He began to talk to them under his breath. Now he muttered to them without always realizing he was. He even muttered in his sleep; he had woken himself up several times with his own frantic gibbering.

Sometimes he wondered if he was a prisoner or the jailor.

RPG Errata: Manyfold, and Different Playstyles and Clusters

Thu, 30 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

You may have noticed, either while reading Manyfold or my posts, that it starts to get a little clumsy talking about these individual types of fun and distinct methods of support. It’s hard to separate Improvisation from Performance; they seem to fit quite well together. Rules, Achievement, and Risk are all of a kind too, as they all relate to the game itself, rather than the narrative.

Levi realized that talking about agon or kenosis is all well and good in an academic theory kind of way, but it’s not that helpful when trying to figure out what your friends want to actually play. So, they created Playstyle Clusters, a “body of mechanics and techniques a group uses to pursue a particular bundle of good things.” Does your table constantly do the voices? Do they spend hours talking over strategy and character builds? Do they love coming up with plot twists and dramatic arcs? That’s their playstyle.

Levi notes that playstyles are unique to each group, can change over time, and can even by dysfunctional, if trying to serve multiple and contradictory types of fun. This is the moment when the player who really wanted to win the game gets dirty looks from their fellow players because “your character wouldn’t do that.”

RPG Errata: Manyfold, and Supportive Rules and Practices

Tue, 28 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

In the last couple posts, we explored some different terms for different kinds of fun people can have with RPGs, and the different mindsets they can engage with while playing.

So what?

Sure, we can have an interesting conversation using the same terminology, but the rubber has to meet the road sometime, right? Being a Better Socrates is all about using new frameworks to become better RPGers.

This is where the third section of Manyfold comes in. The Designed Support section goes through the first list of types-of-enjoyment and discusses different ways of supporting these types in games, and I’d like to take a look at them now.

Lighthouse at the End of the World: Part 2

Sat, 25 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The weeks were long in the lighthouse. Time passed slowly for Thomas as he muttered his way up and down the lighthouse steps. He cursed the chills and the heat, he spat on the creaking wood and sneered at the fragrence of rotting seaweed that permiated the stacks of flotsam that lined the walls.

“Ten,” he muttered, after counting. “Ten of you, eh? No matter. I’m ready for you. Got my own, see? Got my own.”

Tending the lighthouse was a simple enough job. He changed out the oil every day, adjusted the valves and chimney as required, and that was that. All he had left to do was explore the detritus of the sea and avoid any ghosts.

RPG Errata: Manyfold, and How You Play

Thu, 23 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The second section of Manyfold is geared towards providing a glossary of terms players can use to describe “how they play.” It does this through “Stances,” a term first formulated by Kevin Hardwick and Sarah Kahn on the rec.games.frp.advocacy group on USEnet, around 1996. Levi then builds off their work to come up with five different stances that a player might change between during a single RPG session.

What exactly is a “stance?” Manyfold defines it as “The attitude of the player towards play at any given moment.” The easiest shorthand to consider might be combat: at any given time in your average combat focused RPG, one player is taking their turn, one player is GMing, and the other players are watching. These are three different stances, as the player whose turn it is engages with the game differently than the player who’s waiting for their turn, and both engage differently than the GM, who is playing the monsters.

RPG Errata: Manyfold, and What You Like

Tue, 21 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

What is “fun?”

Remember when I asked that question? Oh what fun we had!

Now I’d like to talk about a kind of answer to that question. I’ve talked about Levi Kornelsen’s Manyfold theory several times through both this long-form treatise and its errata, but I suspect that some of you haven’t taken the extra step to actually go read the PDF. That’s fine, we’re all busy with something or another these days. Nevertheless, I still think its important information, worthy of discussion.

At the same time, I can’t just reprint the whole thing here; that’s borderline plagerism, and taking attention away from an interesting piece of work.

So rather than plagerize, I will “join the conversation.”

Lighthouse at the End of the World: Part 1

Sat, 18 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Two lights shone in the darkness.

The first was bright and blazing, a pyre fed by two resevoirs of oil. It sputtered and flamed all through the night, casting its rays through the dark and foggy air. A thousand ships had seen that light in their time, carefully keeping their distance from the craggy and rocky shoreline that threatened their hulls.

The second was not nearly so warm nor bright. It sat atop a tiny candle, and served little more than to shed a dim glow over the bone-yellow paper being written on by the lighthouse keeper, a Mr. Thomas Salford.

RPG Errata: Basic D&D, and Fun

Thu, 16 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

“This is a game that is fun.”

When I wrote my original post on Into the Woods, I mentioned the original box-set rules for Basic D&D, also known as “The Red Box.” The first line of this rule book: This is a game that is fun.

Let’s ignore both the clumsy childish sentence structure and the somewhat cringy “I have to tell you it’s fun or else you might not realize it” sentiment, and focus on the content. “This,” meaning the original Basic D&D RPG, “is a game,” meaning not a sport or tool but something to enjoy in your leisure hours, “that is fun.”

I’ve talked a lot about this amorphous concept, both in passing and as a nebulous “good” that we should all be aiming for in our RPG games. I’ve talked about how competition is a kind of fun that RPGs tend to eschew, opting for a co-op play-style. I’ve talked about how different kinds of practices both support and weaken the “fun” of the medium. I’ve talked about how the “Tyranny of Fun” can limit the medium, and how “fun” might not even be the be-all-end-all of our games.

I think it’s time to stop beating around the bush, be a Better Socrates, and explore this core concept of our hobby.

RPG Errata: Iron Valley, and Heroes

Tue, 14 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Iron Valley, by M. Kirin, is a solo RPG powered by Ironsworn and based on Stardew Valley. You play a recent transplant to Iron Valley, a quiet little community where an old family farm sits waiting for you to build it back up to its proud industrial roots. Or, maybe you’ll make friends and get married, or spend your time exploring and charting the spooky forest, or any number of other adventures that await your attention.

Iron Valley is one of any number of RPGs that have come out in recent years that are, for lack of a better word, cozy. The goal of the game isn’t to amass loot or slay dragons, it’s not to save the galaxy or avert planetary destruction, it’s to spend time with community, find new friends and nurture the world. That’s not to say you couldn’t be a monster-slaying defender of the town — you can do anything in an RPG — but the focus of the game isn’t violence, it’s humility.

Manifest: Playtesting

Sat, 11 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

The art of playtesting is a rich one, and I don’t have the time or the energy to spell all of it out.

Instead, I’ll detail the things I want to explore with playtesting, and how I will do so.

RPG Errata: Tactiquest, and Acting vs Thinking

Thu, 09 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Tactiquest is a Tactical RPG still currently (at time of writing) in the beta playtesting stage. Written by level2janitor, (who you may remember also wrote Iron Halberd) Tactiquest is a half-diceless sandbox RPG designed for fast fights, diverse play-styles, and fantastical stories. Each creature-type you chose grants you bonuses, each class has multiple perks to shape your strategy, and there is the requisite extensive list of spells.

What’s half-diceless mean? I’m glad you asked.

The Magus: The Game Moves

Wed, 08 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

This story was made using the solo RPG The Magus, by momatoes. It is a “crunchy” journaling game: while there are only seven “scenes,” you have to make choices about your character that drastically adjust the results of the story.

The Magus: Part 4

Tue, 07 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Eventually, the High Sorcerers learned of me, but by then it was too late. Several of the rasher youths tried to dethrone me from my tower but I had grown too powerful for them. Two lay dead, another fled while acknowledging my strength. The wiser sorcerers granted me clemency; a farce and a pantomime, but welcome all the same. I would not have been able to resist them all had they united against me.

But I was one of them now; a Sorcerer in my own right. I did not need to hide my self away and skulk through the underbrush like a timid vole. Now I was the tiger, claiming the region as my own territory.

I dreamed my ghost regularly, drifting through the streets and forests of my land. I saw the people muttering in hushed tones, disgusted at my rule. Many left my lands, eager to live free from my protection. I do not begrudge them their foolishness; I took from them rarely and their blind hatred of my power harmed only themselves. I did not even punish those who spoke out openly against my claims, as I easily could have.

It might have gone differently. Had I not had Trella’s kind heart and gentle words to keep me from the darkness, I might have gone down the same path as so many others.

Manifest: Rulesets 0.1

Sat, 04 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Last time I looked into a whole new ruleset. Now, I’d like to put all the rules I’ve come up with so far in one place, slot in some numbers, and see if that shakes anything out. The following are three different rulesets with…wait, three?

I told you this would happen. After the last post, my mind kept working, and shook out a few more ideas, as well as some polish to previous ones. When my brain gets wandery, it gets wandery.

First, let’s go over the universal basics of all the three rulesets:

The Magus: Part 3

Thu, 02 Jan 2025 00:00:00 -0600

Time passed slowly for me. I studied, practiced, plied my trade while scraping together what living I could from the surrounding lands. I often went hungry if I could not find simple work in the nearby towns, and every moment spent away from my practice was a blade that pierced my heart.

As the years passed I created more spells, discovered minor tricks and cantrips that provided me some amount of comfort. I delved into the old artifacts and found a measure of their use. I even managed to provide meager repairs to the tower, enough to keep it from collapsing down on my head. It was something of a home now; not nearly as cozy or friendly as Trella’s, but certainly better than a tent or cave.

Things might have continued in this manner, steadily improving as I toiled towards greater and more exotic astral power, had I not found the gemstone.

The Magus: Part 2

Tue, 31 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

In the end, I decided to ask Trella if I could stay for a time, to both peruse her small library and help in any way I could to repay her kindness. She seemed delighted at the suggestion, and so for several months I shared her house, spending my days tending the yard or working in the nearby town, or studying the books in her library. The more I read, the more facinated I became by this strange and wonderful world. She had books on flowers and trees, books about animals and insects, books about stones and how rivers moved and even some on the secret ways of the guilds. Books about making iron or tanning hides. Books about brewing ale or making candles from wax.

I kept up my practice from my own book, late at night after she had gone to bed. I had looked long and hard through her library for books on magic, but only a few volumes provided any minor insight, and they were written by Royal Witchhunter hands.

The most useful book was a diary by the old Royal Witchhunter Primus, Fenlark the Bloody. In it, he went into solacious detail about rituals he had disrupted, profane acts he had prevented, and provided far more information than might have been prudent. His descriptions of magical instrumentation and unholy sigils provided me with keys to unlock hithertoo unknown secrets in my book, and as such my abilities grew in strength.

Manifest: A Complete Rework

Sat, 28 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

I knew this would happen.

My brain goes through phases. I tend to get interested in something, and then as my excitement starts to wane, a new idea drives me in a new direction. In some cases it’s a whole new subject or project. In other cases, its a fundamental rework of the project I’m working on.

To explain: After describing the system to one of my friends, he made a suggestion that grabbed my attention. I liked it enough that I started rethinking the entire Power Roll mechanic. The idea that my friend gave me was “what if the Manifestations give you a pool of dice that you can distribute between them for actions? That way you can decide where to put your energies.”

Now, I had given a fairly bare-bones description of the full(ish) ruleset, so I needed to adjust a few things, but the result is…well, I could say simpler or cleaner, but really what appeals to me about it is it’s different. I’d had a good length of time to get used to the other way of rolling, so this new idea was, if not better, at least new.

The Magus: Part 1

Thu, 26 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

My name is Mari. I had a family name, many years ago, but once I chose to abandon my family’s path in the world, to strike out on my own and master the mysteries of the unknown, I thought it best to forsake any connection with this past.

Magic is a forbidden thing. The high churches burn witches and warlocks, while the high sorcerers — too powerful to be stopped, even by the armies of the united Kingdoms — are quick to destroy those who appear too eager, ambitious, or dangerous. There is no confusion as to why; Magic is a powerful and dangerous thing. The fae and enchanted creatures of the wild use magic freely, and their corruption causes daily strife. The dark mage-lords of old destroyed kingdoms with their power, and the High Sorcerers are too powerful to hinder.

6 Trials of the Weavers: The Game Moves

Wed, 25 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Six Trials of the Weavers, along with 1888 Amenti, was an experiment to see what short-stories could be created through solo journalling RPGs. The following is the behind-the-scenes dice-rolls and card-pulls that created the short-story, along with some final thoughts.

6 Trials of the Weavers: Part 4

Tue, 24 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Wretched thing.

Holly opened her eyes. The bugs were gone, her flesh was whole. The path was nowhere to be seen.

We are not Spiders. We do not Lie.

The mists slowly began to receed, drawing away like reverant priests. Holly stood up, her eyes scarcely believing what they were seeing.

We are Weavers, and we have tested you thrice.

The three figures were there, standing at the other side of a long bridge. The buzzing that had once filled her head now echoed from deep below in the chasm.

One final test awaits you.

Manifest: Abilities

Sat, 21 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Last time I explored the strategic impact Agents had on the game. This time, I’d like to get down to some brassy tic-tacs, and look at one of the most important and fundamental aspects of Manifestation Combat: Abilities.

Abilities are anything from basic moves to special attacks. Each Manifestation has at least 1, possibly 2. They can be active, passive, reactions, stances, or anything similar. They are, in short the possible actions any Manifestation can make.

Each active Ability also has a Sync ability: when a Power Roll is made, any die that shows equal or less than the Manifestation’s Bond level causes a special effect. This can be adding damage, conditions, free movement, or anything that a regular ability can do.

On second thoughts, we could turn Sync from an Ability bonus to a Manifestation bonus: the effect will therefore be the same whichever ability the Manifestation uses.

6 Trials of the Weavers: Part 3

Thu, 19 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

At last, Holly couldn’t take it any longer. She collapsed to the ground, rolling onto her back. The world danced around her in a flurry of sights and sounds. She turned away, clutching at her head, struggling to breathe steadily. She could feel herself vibrating as she spat up the contents of her heaving stomach.

Finally, the world began to slow its dance, the music and sweet savory fading into memory. Holly rolled onto her back once more, at once grateful and at the same time struggling to hold on to a bit of the strange and horrifying world she had seen. Strings of atoms wound around each other, webs of cause and effect causing vibrations, waves that carried flotsam and jetsam to far and distant shores.

6 Trials of the Weavers: Part 2

Tue, 17 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The needle was made of old dry bone, and the thread was a thin strong silk. The fabric had a pattern already sewn into it with the same white silk, and the paper — the paper was thin dry leather, skin from some animal. Holly struggled not to think about what kind of animal it might have been.

On the parchment, a strange and scratchy handwriting surrounded bizarre symbols. It was writing of some kind, possibly a language…diagrams? Were these instructions? Holly looked at the sewed pattern on the fabric; it certainly appeared incomplete to her.

She studied the needle carefully and observed the spool for markings. She flipped the fabric over, checking the stitching from both sides. She gave the strange language only a cursory glance — she knew she wouldn’t be able to decipher it — and focused on the ornate symbols.

“I don’t suppose you offer hints?” Holly couldn’t help herself. The cooing weaver shifted, the rustle of robes in the dark louder than thunder.

A sister would need none.

Manifest: Agents

Sat, 14 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Last time I discussed how Manifestations “die.” This time, I’d like to develop Agents as a tactical consideration.

Because Agents are units too; They move about the battlefield and engage in actions. They can have weapons, tools, and one of the two actions every turn can be used by them. All that said, what impact do they have on the game?

The obviously simple answer is “a target.” It makes sense that Manifestations are only present because of the Agent, so if the Agent “dies,” then so do the other Manifestations. This would turn every combat into a complex “defend the Agent” combat, but without significant balancing and rule-rewriting, the best strategy is a cross-the-map sniper that kills the Agent in one hit. I think we can do better.

A Kind Of Slur

Fri, 13 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Words are powerful things.

One of the greatest lies in modern discourse is the suggestion that words are somehow less significant or “real” than physical action. “Sticks and Stones,” after all. A politician who says all the right things is branded an empty suit if their actions are not measured in kind.

But words control us in marked and unavoidable ways. There are words that we feel bad for saying, or uncomfortable even thinking. F-words can be censored for all audiences, but the N-word is something far more powerful. Even the idea of saying it is disquieting for most people. It certainly is for me.

6 Trials of the Weavers: Part 1

Thu, 12 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Holly’s bed was small, rickety, and at least a hundred years old. It had belonged to her grandfather, after it had been given to him by his grandfather, along with the tiny cabin. It had been the only piece of furnature in the cabin for years. Holly’s great great grandfather had been the chronically outdoors type, unwilling to do anything inside that could be done just as well outside. He cooked his food, mended his clothes, polished his rifle and sharpened his tools all outdoors. He only slept inside, and even then only when it was too cold, wet, or dangerous to sleep outside.

Holly’s grandfather was nowhere near as outdoorsy, so he had improved the cabin with some modern renovations. A sink, a fireplace, a few cupboards and shelves. It was nice and cosy, the perfect place to get away from it all.

Noriama: Chapter 21

Tue, 10 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The medical station on the Croatoan was, as Victoria had said so many years ago, cramped. At its best, it meant that Victoria was always within arms reach of all her tools, and no time was ever wasted looking for a vital instrument.

Nevertheless, there was no escaping the fact that there was really only enough room for a single medical bed, and just enough room for a single person to walk around it.

Sughouri was lying on that bed now, staring at nothing at all.

They talked every day, sharing thoughts and feelings and experiences. Sometimes Victoria was excited, marveling at what it had been like. Other times she was like a cautious parent, warning Sughouri against thinking to fast, or feeling to hard on herself.

They had taken Sughouri apart, neurosis by neurosis. They talked about how hard it was to live in a military family. They talked about having friends torn away, and how no satisfactory reason was ever given, because what answer could be satisfactory? They talked about how her parents never explained their sudden absences, how their clearance didn’t extend to family members, especially children.

Manifest: Death

Sat, 07 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

How do Manifestations die?

“Die” probably isn’t the best word for it. In Pokémon, the mons simply “faint.” You can’t permanently lose a Pokémon, and I doubt Manifestations are any more transient. They must be able to “demanifest,” however, else combats will last forever, and all the damage-dealing and condition-applying is so much nonsense.

So, how does a Manifestation demanifest?

The obvious answer is, as always, their HP reaches 0. That’s not a terrible metric — there are reasons why cliches stick around — and a lot of systems will naturally fit into it. While I may find a more interesting ludo-narrative later, this is a good place to start. Let’s play with some numbers.

Noriama: Chapter 20

Thu, 05 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

How long had Sughouri wandered? Years. Only seconds. Her heart ached, her limbs burned. She was dying, crushed by the intense weight of Proxima b. Her mind wasn’t working properly anymore. She was dreaming while awake, whispering to ghosts and crying out to absent friends.

She was in the mine. She knew she was. The tunnel kept going, and if she kept walking, she would soon come to the same door that connected to the refinery. She would see empty hoppers and pickaxes, and then she would be halfway there.

When she thought of it, she checked her watch.

It had been ten minutes since she fell.

Noriama: Chapter 19

Tue, 03 Dec 2024 00:00:00 -0600

“Sughouri?”

A passing fancy flit through Sughouri’s mind. She didn’t have to answer Kristiana when she called. What would that do to them, to be cut off? How would they react?

“Yes?” she answered, the moment past.

“What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be up for another two hours.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sughouri shrugged. “Things to do today, so might as well get started.”

“Such as?” Victoria now. They all suspected. They had to have suspected for days now. They were watching her vitals every second of every hour. For all her naivete about space and the sciences, Victoria wasn’t stupid about people. Besides, they could see where she was heading.

Manifest: Conditions

Sat, 30 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Last time, I looked at Abilities and what sort of “Special Effects” Sync could add to their basic attacks. One of the more obvious options is conditions, so this time I’d like to look into what kind of conditions Manifest could have.

Luckily, I have two great sources of inspiration: Trespasser and Demon Crawl – Gothic.

Demon Crawl – Gothic, similar to its spiritual sequal Steel Hearts, has a small number of conditions, one for each damage-type. Designed to be a quick paced action game, these conditions aren’t the more narratively focused conditions like prone or grappled. Instead, they are closer to the hinderances of an action-adventure video game. Burning, for example, causes you to take three damage whenever you deal damage to an enemy. Rotting means you take an extra 2 damage whenever damage is dealt to you. Being Hexed causes you to receive 1 damage every square you move.

Noriama: Chapter 18

Thu, 28 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

It had taken almost four days for Sughouri to finish her work. Cutting through the door was difficult enough, and took two four-hour days before she was finished. Then she fed a flexible camera through the hole, bringing along a connector cable with it. Breaking into the keypad took another day, and connecting her hacking kit into the security lock was no small feat in itself.

In the end, it took a full thirteen hours to break through the military-grade security lock on the door, and once she had finished, she had to return to the Hut and leave actually opening the lounge for the next day.

Today.

It had been a harrowing week for Victoria. Her mind filled with inescapable imaginings fueled by her past. Behind that door, there could be two hundred corpses, perfectly preserved in their final moments of death. It would be her job to discover what those final moments were.

Noriama: Chapter 17

Tue, 26 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Kristiana’s head was throbbing.

“Hamēstagān is a place referenced in the Dādestān ī Dēnīg, a ninth-century Persian religious text,” she recited. “It had been written by Zoroastrian high priest, and it’s composed entirely of ninety-two questions followed by the priest’s answers. Hamēstagān is a place where dead souls are sent to wait. It’s a neutral place for those whose good and evil deeds are in perfect balance, to wait for the day of judgment.”

“Okay, but what does it mean?” Sughouri said over the com. “‘Gone to Hamēstagān.’ Is this their way of saying they knew they were dying?”

“That’s one possibility,” Kristiana admitted. She didn’t like how excited Sughouri was getting. If she started to panic or lost control, there was nothing any of them could do. “We don’t have all the information yet, so it’s counterproductive to start guessing wildly.”

“It’s not wild,” Sughouri huffed. “It’s right there, on the wall of a flipping kitchen: Gone. To. Hamēstagān. Look, I’m all for restraint when it comes to making guesses, but it’s not like they’re speaking in code, here.”

Manifest: Special Effects

Sat, 23 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Last time, I decided that abilities have both a basic effect and a Sync effect; a bonus that becomes stronger the higher your Manifestation’s Bond is.

But what kind of bonuses could a Manifestation have? For that matter, I’ve been talking a lot about tactical combat, but I haven’t really done anything with it, have I?

Let’s fix that. We can look at D&D along with any number of other systems to get a feel for a “baseline” tactical combat system. Everything from Lancer to Zafir, Strike! to Voyager: Tactics has some ideas worth exploring.

I don’t see a problem with starting with the most common assumptions: a battle map, miniatures, movement and areas-of-effect…fairly standard stuff. At its most basic, each unit on the board has a certain number of spaces they can move each turn, and a certain number of “actions,” which can be either attacks, special abilities, extra movement, etc.

Noriama: Chapter 16

Thu, 21 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

“Section A,” Sughouri said as she dragged her LED across the sign. “This must be the place.” Sughouri glanced to make sure that Churji was still following along behind her. She was used to working in silence, hearing only the sounds of her suit, and periodic visual check-ins were vital to keep things moving smoothly. Her chest was beginning to hurt, but Victoria hadn’t said anything, so it was probably just her imagination.

“Hold up,” Zuri’s digital voice came over the comm. “Wolf just stopped. You’re close to where the drone broke down, and it doesn’t want to go further.”

Sughouri glanced back again. Churji was sitting a few paces back, camera steadily tracking her movements. She checked her suit and said; “I’m not getting any radiation, or environmental hazards from my suit. Can you tap it into my camera feed? I’ll go on ahead and it’ll see everything’s safe.”

“Is that right?” Victoria’s voice was delightfully confused. “Is Wolf that smart?”

Noriama: Chapter 15

Tue, 19 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Sighouri liked nicknames.

Normal names were universal. She was Sighouri to everyone, and always would be. But to her grandmother, she had been Noyoner moni. To her niece, she had been Sig. At the academy, she had been Bandar, thanks to her limber limbs and loud laughter. To her longest-term lovers she had been Ya amar, Jaanu, and Shona, respectively, and for two months on the ISS she had been Bullet.

The CHR-3 was Churji to her, and the Croatoan was the Śabādhāra. Everyone saw different things when they looked at the world, and to hang every viewpoint, every facet of a gem under a single name was unwise at best. Dangerous at worst.

Kristiana called them ‘colonists,’ but they could just as easily be pioneers, explorers, Noriamians, Proximans…

Sughouri was about to be an archeologist, or an SAR Engineer, or a surveyor, or a migrant, or an ex-pat.

Manifest: Sync

Sat, 16 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Last time, I decided that the Manifestations will make all their actions with a die roll based on their Tier and Bond ratings: XdY, where X is their Bond, ranging from 1 to 5, and Y is their Tier, ranging from a d4 to a d12. I also decided to place a limit on leveling, such that a Manifestation will only ever level up 5 times.

But the math on that is a little squiffy. If a Manifestation focuses on leveling their Bond over their Tier, they are, in effect, hamstringing themselves. Take a look at this Anydice program:

output 1@2d12 named “2d12”

output 1@5d6 named “5d6”

If you look at the “at least” tab, you can easily see how the 5d6 Manifestation has a higher chance of rolling better than a 3 or 4 than 2d12, but 2d12 has a far better chance of rolling 6 or better than 5d6 has of rolling a 6. Both Manifestations have about an equal chance of rolling a 5 or better, but for one that means a 5 or a 6, while the other can go up to 12. That’s hardly balanced.

Noriama: Chapter 14

Thu, 14 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Zuri’s fingers itched. It had taken almost an hour for Churji to reach the main computer center in Central Control, then another hour for Sughouri to inspect the systems and wiring to make sure everything was still within proper working order.

“Okay,” Sughouri said at last, “I’m turning the computer on. Zuri, it’s in your hands now.”

Zuri could feel her shoulders relax as, on the screen, Churji’s claw threw the final switch. The feed swung about as all around it, lights began to flicker to life. When Churji turned back to the main screen, the system boot process was spinning past, throwing error after error, the same errors mirrored on Zuri’s personal screen.

“That doesn’t look good,” Victoria muttered.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Sughouri waved a hand. “The system is looking for a bunch of systems and hardware we haven’t turned on, that’s all.”

And likely never would, Zuri noted. No need for waste recyclers or temperature control now.

Noriama: Chapter 13

Tue, 12 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Victoria used to think that space was empty. Now, she knew that what she thought of as void was really full of radiation, background static, dust molecules and dark-matter. As far as was practical, however, it was all empty.

For centuries, humans were taught the solar system on a scale that was reasonable. No, more than reasonable; conceivable. The astronomical distances between even the earth and its moon were difficult to comprehend on a visceral level. The most common emotion when seeing the planets of the solar system to scale for the first time was awe, coupled with no small amount of disbelief.

But the sun really was that much larger than Jupiter, which really was that much larger than Earth. And seeing the planets’ sizes was nothing compared to the distance between them. To truly understand the distance one light-year covered was nearly impossible. Such a massive stretch of sheer and unmitigated emptiness.

There was a terrible thing that happened when the human mind is faced with emptiness; The brain tried to fill it.

Manifest: Static Versus Dynamic Dice

Sat, 09 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Last time, I looked into a core “dice-roll” mechanic, and decided to link each Manifestation’s roll to their Tier and Bond stats, their level and friendship scores, respectively. I liked the idea that both of these stats decided what dice you rolled “to hit” with any Manifestation, so I explored three different possible rolls: XdY, 1dX+Y, or Xd20+Y

At the moment, 1dX+Y is the simplest of the three. It’s linear, low-effort, and familiar for most RPGers. Since there isn’t too much to explore with it compared to the other two, I’m going to leave it in my back pocket for now, and see how interesting I can make XdY and Xd20+Y.

For both, we can require the Player to roll multiple dice and pick the die with the highest number showing. Since both roll multiple dice, the major difference is whether the size of the die changes or not. Therefore, I will call these two options the Static option, (Xd20+Y) and the Dynamic option. (XdY)

Noriama: Chapter 12

Thu, 07 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

“The elevator will reach the ground in five minutes,” Kristiana said. It was an unnecessary report, Victoria thought. The four of them were seated in their chairs, staring at their screens. She couldn’t imagine that any one of them wasn’t perfectly aware of exactly how much longer they would have to wait.

“What do you think they called it?” Sughouri asked.

“Called what?” Zuri asked.

“Well, the star is Proxima Centauri. They wouldn’t have stuck with Proxima b, would they? We don’t call Earth ‘Sol Three.’”

“There wasn’t anything in the Compact about naming the planet.” Kristiana said.

“I’ll bet you they did all the same.”

Victoria scratched at her hairline. “Noriama, probably.”

Noriama: Chapter 11

Tue, 05 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Lemon awoke.

Anthropomorphizing was frowned upon in the AI sciences. Even the most advanced AIs couldn’t be recognized as having agency, or advanced cognitive functions beyond that of, say, a particularly clever lizard.

Even the word ‘intelligence’ was somewhat taboo among trainers. It was a weasel word, an amorphous suggestion that something real was being described, when there was no such thing. There was no such thing as Artificial Intelligence, there was only complex computer algorithms that imitated adaptability. Artificial Learning was a far more accurate term. (Though behind closed doors there was still debate if Arificial Adaptation was more appropriate, but that brought in questions about the difference between artificial and ‘real’ adaptation, and whether or not Inorganic Adaptation was the best term, usually countered with the socratic suggestion that costal erosion was also inorganic adaptation, and by that time the convention panel had gone an hour over their scheduled time and everyone was too tired or hungry to make coherant arguments.)

Zuri couldn’t help it. After the Lemon AI had remaining trapped in the Croatoan for so long, to finally allow it to reach out into Noriama’s computer system felt like unlocking a caged beast.

Manifest: Bond and Tier

Sat, 02 Nov 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Last time, I looked at Emotional Types and Stats, and gave myself quite a bit of things to think about. Today, I’d like to go back to the two “stats” I had come up with earlier: Bond and Tier. Tier is akin to level in Pokémon, while Bond is closer to Friendship.

Okay, but what does that mean?

Emotions are tumultuous things. Narratively, our culture is rife of stories about how people lose control of themselves, their emotions getting the better of them, and similar turns of phrase.

If Manifestations are embodied emotions, then the idea of a spectrum between “controlled” and “powerful” makes sense. Bond is a representation of how attuned you are to the emotion, how in-control of the Manifestation you are. Tier is representational of its core “power,” its strength and maximum power output.

Does this mean it makes more sense to have Bond and Tier as a spectrum stat, or as two separate numbers? Or, Bond could be a spectrum while Tier is a static number?

Noriama: Chapter 10

Thu, 31 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

There are no windows in space.

Victoria bemoaned this fact as she stared at the wall of the Croatoan. She had been able to see the stars and the planet Earth — before they boarded the Croatoan from the ISS — but what she wouldn’t have given now to be able to look out the window and see Noriama Station.

Noriama Station was the unimaginatively titled solution to an insidious problem: how to transfer two-hundred colonists, along with thousands of tons of equipment, materials, and supplies, from orbit to the surface of Proxima.

Every obvious solution carried its own problems. Designing the rockets to be capable of landing on Proxima’s surface would exponentially increase the weight of the rockets — both because of the engines and the fuel required — far more than was feasible. A team of shuttles would reduce the required strength of the landing rockets, but would require fuel for both landing and lift-off, making such a ferry service equally unreasonable.

Noriama: Chapter 9

Tue, 29 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

“Excuse me, Ms. Sidel?”

Antje winced internally, careful to not crack the smiling facade she threw onto her face as she turned. Damn it, there she was: a reporter not thirty years old yet, wearing the helpless awkward smile they all wore before they became experienced, bitter, and mistrusting.

“Yes?”

“Sorry,” the apology came quick through a faint Spanish accent, her press pass brandished like a shield. “I wasn’t sure that was you. Would you mind answering a few questions?”

“I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry.” Antje turned back to the doors of the EUSAA, but it was too late.

“Just one, then,” the young reporter’s speech suddenly quick and clipped. “Are you here because of something to do with the KAP, or Noriama?”

A Poem: With Kindness

Mon, 28 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

In honor of the election season, (and, admittedly, to introduce a new section of my site that will eventually have more content) I would like to break from my scheduled posting…um…schedule, and present a poem I was inspired to write.

Manifest: Emotions

Sat, 26 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Last time, I broke down a few of the requirements that a Manifestation could have in game. I also decided on four “Types” of emotional Manifestations.

So, going off of the basic four Emotions of Fear, Anger, Delight, and Grief…how do they interact?

Working with the assumption that an Anger Manifestation is fundamentally different than a Grief Manifestation, how deep do those differences go? They could be as simple as limiting some of the available actions/abilities a Manifestation has, or as complex as having completely different rules for rolling dice and taking actions.

Noriama: Chapter 8

Thu, 24 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Half way to Proxima Centauri, the Croatoan flipped upside down.

In accordance with procedure, the team strapped themselves into their chairs in the Crash Room half an hour before the rotation, and ran three drills, making sure they understood exactly what they were supposed to do.

Sughouri was well versed in the bureaucracies of space, and she knew running mock drills was important, but it was still a little silly, seeing as what they were supposed to do was practically nothing at all. Computers and automatics handled almost every aspect of their trip.

It wasn’t a luxury, it was a necessity. Mistakes were measured in fractions of fractions, and even the most minor of computer systems could assess, correct, and resolve errors faster and more effectively then any human. The Croatoan computer did everything perfectly. Victoria had said something about keeping everyone’s brains functioning properly, but mostly they were just reciting what their computer screens told them like play-by-play commentators.

Noriama: Chapter 7

Tue, 22 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Zuri Conde liked problems. She liked puzzles. When she was young, the first game she remembered playing was a jigsaw puzzle that lay on her mother’s clean floor. She loved turning the pile of colorful pieces into a complete picture. Like a sandcastle washing away in the surf, only backwards.

When she got older, her father gave her his entire collection of mystery novels. She read through them all in a single season, and saved up her money to buy more. She quickly became familiar with which novelists wrote real mysteries, where every clue and suspect were plainly observable to a clever reader; as opposed to cheap thrillers where the solutions were pulled out of the writer’s hat at the last second.

It was this love of solutions that drew her to computers. The process of writing code for advanced computer systems had a thrill all its own, as each line slipped into place like a piece of a puzzle.

Manifest: Manifestations

Sat, 19 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Last time, I came up with a setting for this RPG, and took a quick look at what Manifestations might look like. Now, I’d like to take a closer look at some options for these Manifestations. What do they need, mechanically?

In gen 1, Pokémon had four stats, HP, a Level, a Type, four moves, and a name. More was added in later gens, but gen 1 started the whole fad, so it can’t be the worst place to start. we also need to keep things simple if there are going to be up to six fighting at once, so we don’t get out over our skies.

That said…

Noriama: Chapter 6

Thu, 17 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Victoria accepted the offer. They all did. By unspoken agreement, none of them ever asked the others why.

Victoria tried not to think about it very hard. First-Responders knew that introspection rarely made any job easier, and being part of a select team chosen to fly off into space to save a missing Earth colony was a job worth doing.

As time passed, the veneer of romance was steadily buffed away from that narrative.

Training for the mission took half a year, though it felt more like torture. First-Responders were not unfamiliar with rapid and intensive emergency training, but Victoria was positive the purpose of any training was to learn something. The only thing she was learning was exactly how uncomfortable she could feel.

Noriama: Chapter 5

Tue, 15 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Victoria stepped into meeting room seven and began to panic.

It was not an uncommon reaction. As a First-Responder trauma specialist, she was familiar with the learned instincts and reflexes colloquially dubbed ‘punctual-panic.’

As a byproduct of their training and experience in the field, First-Responders often showed increased anxiety over wasted time, both in themselves and others. Time was a valuable resource to the First-Responders; seconds meant deaths. Minutes separated a successful response from a catastrophe.

If the room was empty, Victoria might have gone to the wrong room. How many dead as a result? She would need to contact her coordinator or the base supervisor to find the right room. How many more would die?

Victoria forced herself to breathe easy; if time cost lives, so did panic. First step was to confirm her location. Tapping her watch, she pulled up her coordinator’s summons. Sure enough; Meeting Room Seven. She was in the right place.

Manifest: Setting

Sat, 12 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Last time, I figured out a narrative lynchpin for my game: Monsters wander the earth, manifestations of powerful emotions. This time, I’d like to solidify the setting a bit more.

I’d also like to bite something in the bud right now: “My Game” is a dumb name for an RPG, so I have decided to give the game the working title of Manifest. The name centers on the fact that the core of this game is these Manifestations of emotion. The rest of the game could be anything, use any mechanics, be OSR, Narrative, be Powered by the Apocalypse or use d20 Modern, but the Manifestations are the unique aspect of the system that requires a concrete and cohesive system.

Noriama: Chapter 4

Thu, 10 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Hannah Klein licked her lips. She rarely did anymore; constant chapped lips provided her solid motivation for breaking the habit, but when she was nervous, the old behavior resurfaced.

It bothered her that she was nervous. Not just because it brought back her lip-licking, but because there was no good reason for it. Her entire career had been full of presentations to URC panels. It was part of the job. After weeks of study, she knew the proposal backwards and forwards, and any question the committee thought up that she didn’t immediately know the answer too would likely come from the team of aides seated behind her.

She’d even argued this exact proposal before. Granted, it was more than two decades ago, when she had just been appointed as an EU Liaison, and a lot had changed since then; but now she was an established figure at the URC. They knew her, and she knew her trade.

So why was she so nervous?

Noriama: Chapter 3

Tue, 08 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The Kolonie-Arche Projekt was what had first brought Michael and Antje together. Two decades prior, at a fancy EU party, the then-newly appointed EUSAA director had pinned a freshly elected German minister to the wall when she had inadvertently expressed an interest in space-exploration.

“It’s a common mistake,” Michael explained. “Everyone still assumes we’re planning on colonizing the solar system.” There were countless papers and projects to that effect. Deep in the EUSAA’s files, Mars, Venus, and even the moon were officially slated for colonization. Scientists had been talking about it for decades, and the programs and designs for doing so were dime a dozen.

“No?” Antje took a sip of her wine. “I am still new to the Bundestag; I am always learning about new projects. I assumed the EUSAA would have been working on something like colonization.”

“We are,” Michael licked his lips. “Or rather, I am; but not for our solar-system. Colonizing outside the solar system is the only project that makes any sense.”

First Steps

Sat, 05 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Okay, so I’ve decided to make an RPG.

Now what?

First steps are always the hardest, because you have a blank sheet of paper with nothing on it. When you try to think of anything, nothing is always the first thing you think of.

Pearls need sand, trees need seeds, every journey starts with a single step.

Noriama: Chapter 2

Thu, 03 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

A little less than an hour later, Michael Donnahill stepped off the mag-train at the New Bath Airport, carrying a single briefcase and dressed in his lightest clothing. He had been cursing himself the entire trip, thinking about the lonely umbrella that sat next to the door in his apartment.

He had always traveled light. He had to; a government salary didn’t give him the resources to bring extra shoes or changes of clothing. Travel was expensive, and every pound counted. When it was possible, he didn’t even bother to bring his briefcase, opting instead to slip his computer in his pocket and be done with it. Packing, for Michael, could take hours as he inspected each shirt, sock, and toiletry to decide if he really needed to bring it.

This trip, however, had inhabited that rare paradox of being impossible to pack for and therefore easy to pack for. Michael knew nothing about what Antje wanted, except it was for more than just a drink. Free from the knowledge of what to expect, he was able to forego agonizing what to bring. Instead, Michael threw on the lightest clothing he had and stuffed an old jacket and tie in a side-bag. He could remote-terminal into his office if he needed to access information back at the EUSAA.

Noriama: Chapter 1

Tue, 01 Oct 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Sometimes, it’s the little things.

For example: when Michael Donnahill was seven, he saw the 2090 eclipse as it blacked out the sky over the English Isles of the EU, what was once called Great Britain before the food riots. He sat on a grassy hill on what his grandfather still called the Isle of Wight, surrounded by thousands of onlookers as they all stared up into the sky, wearing their thin black glasses.

It was moderately cloudy that day, but everyone could still see the dim burning disk as it was eaten away, sliver by sliver, behind the thick fog of clouds. Michael watched as the world grew darker and darker still, his heart racing as night fell faster and faster, until 4:56 on the twenty-third of September was as dark as midnight in winter.

Introduction

Sat, 28 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Well, I’ve done it. I’ve decided to put my theory to the practice.

Woe to all who step down this dark path.

There’s a longstanding cliche about the separation betweeen theory and practice. Some people think about things, other people do things. “Those who can’t do, teach.” The bigotry and condescention between the two groups is just as longstanding; get a chemist or mathemetician talking about the differences between the “theoretical” and “applied” branches of their field, and watch the sparks fly.

Up Next

Thu, 26 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

That’s right, I’m going to design my own RPG.

It’s going to be a process, and certainly take more time to consider all the various issues that crop up. As such, I will be moving the design posts to Saturdays. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I will begin posting another writing project, Noriama.

As with most of my stories, the idea that struck me first was a retelling, in this case a futuristic look at the vanishing Roanoke colony. What if the first human colony in space suddenly vanished? I had considered putting the colony on Ganymede or Io or some easy in-system rock, but the more research I did, the more I realized that, if we were a rational species, we wouldn’t bother with building an inter-system colony that used people.

RPG Errata: Errant Challenger, and Bad RPGs

Tue, 24 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Okay, let me first take a step back and say this unequivocally: I don’t think Errant Challenger is a bad game. This is a rhetorical device, yeah? Just go with it for a second.

Errant Challenger, by Fauix, is still in its Beta at time of writing. It’s a fairly straightforward system, easily graspable by most anyone familiar with RPGs.

It’s a bad RPG.

I mean, look at it! It’s not so much a rule-book as it is a word document exported to PDF. The cover is poorly structured AI mush. There’s no real setting, just a chunk of fantasy pablum. The system itself doesn’t do anything that hasn’t been done twenty time over in different systems.

1888 Amenti

Sat, 21 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Damn my fingers, I never thought I’d write a journal like this. Not one for writing, me. Spent my life doing a bit of this and a bit of that, as they say. Never caught. Was always proud of that, nothing could ever get pinned on me. Now, here I am in the middle of the desert. Nothing but sand and wind. Going to die here, so might as well put down my life on paper. Some fool thing to do before the sun cooks me alive.

My name was Robert Chickering, though I never used it much. Always a different name, me. Took what I needed when I could from those who had too much, and kept what I had from those who wanted it. Traveled around a lot, from the Americas to Europe and even further east. Managed to always stay one step ahead of the law, got while the getting was good.

RPG Errata: Against the Apocalypse, and Simulations vs Abstracts

Thu, 19 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Against the Apocalypse, designed by Oleander Garden, is a game about war, last stands, isolation, and death. It is a game where the players are soldiers in a war against the Demiurge, who sends their hollowmen every Sunday in an attempt to kill the players. They have little in the way of supplies or hope, and the game will end the way all wars must, in death.

The game is, in a single (compound) word, Anti-narrative.

Divided into two parts — the fighting and the downtime — the game encourages the players to unfold their character’s lives in the manner things would happen, not should or could. The book asks players to be honest with both themselves and their imagined world: the goal is not to tell a story, but to simulate life.

RPG Errata: Errant, and Procedure

Tue, 17 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Errant, published by Kill Jester, is a, quote: “rules light, procedure heavy, classic fantasy role-playing game in the vein of the first few editions of that role-playing game and its many imitators and descendants.”

Another one?

Not to complain, but the RPG medium is rife with OSR D&D-likes. Rife, I say. What is there to be gained with breaking down yet another one, when we could be talking about interesting games like Rosewood Abbey, LORDSWORN, Pine Shallows, Lumen Ryder Core, Edelweiss, The Long Shift, or All the While?

What is to be gained, I think, is purely an excuse to talk about that first line in the description: Rules-light, Procedure-heavy.

Taxman

Sat, 14 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Fitzwilliam G. Hastings sat up.

At first, he was relieved. The sudden pain in his chest had lessened considerably. In fact, it was gone. Whatever it was, it had obviously passed, and he could get back to his usual Monday evening activity during Tax season, organising his stack of spreadsheets and ledgers that had been sent to him over the weekend by his panicked clients.

It never failed. It didn’t matter how much money you had, or how familiar you were with it, everyone always put off working on their taxes until it was too late, and April 15th was staring them down, and desperation drove them to throw piles of paper at Fitzwilliam in the vein hope that he could make it all go away.

RPG Errata: Iron Halberd, and Rules-Light

Thu, 12 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Iron Halberd, by Level2janitor, is a medium weight OSR Fantasy RPG. Recognizing the variety of definitions in the world, the game clarifies OSR to mean that the game is deadly, the story is player-driven, resource management is important, and the system itself is compatible with most other OSR resources.

Anyone familiar with OSR systems will be quickly familiar with most of Iron Halberd’s offerings. Stats are randomly generated, the world is deadly, and the focus of the story is on the player’s actions, rather than the GM’s Mary-Sue villains. Inspired by Dungeon Crawl Classics, Knave, and 13th Age; the system has rules for warbands, strongholds, crafting, hirelings, and long-travel.

But what does “medium weight” mean?

RPG Errata: Endeavour, and Themes

Tue, 10 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Endeavour, by Armiger Games, is a playset for the Paragon RPG system, which was made famous by AGON, the epic myth TTRPG. Inspired by the hopeful and optimistic Science Fiction genre — specifically the original Star Trek — Endeavour sees your characters traveling throughout the galaxy, discovering new species, alien cultures, and strange artifacts in your quest to learn more about the universe.

AGON, on the other hand, is about retelling epic adventures in the style of the Odyssey. Your characters travel from island to island on their journey home, subject to the whims and wills of the Gods.

The Ring: Part 2

Sat, 07 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The rest of the day passed quickly, like a train speeding towards a broken rail. My heartbeat struck out the seconds like a countdown, echoing in my breastbone. I felt sick.

Some of my friends noticed, and gave me hugs between the last few classes. Lindsey found me in the parking lot after school, and offered to drive me home. I declined, and drove myself after getting another tender hug from her.

The walk up the driveway was the longest it had ever been.

RPG Errata: Immortal Lich Henry Kissinger, and Personal Games

Thu, 05 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Immortal Lich Henry Kissinger, by Graham Gentz, is an artifact of its time.

It’s hard to explain what Henry Kissinger is to people who don’t know. It’s very easy to explain who Kissinger was, but what “Kissinger” is…

Memes of Death playing a claw machine, Steven Colbert dancing in his office, and a prevailing sense of an omnipresent cruelty existing in the world; its easy to see why The Immortal Lich Henry Kissinger was made. Henry Kissinger was, in many ways, a complicated person.

RPG Errata: Night of the Hogmen, and Single Stories

Tue, 03 Sep 2024 00:00:00 -0500

It would be easy to mistake Night of the Hogmen for a module, easily adaptable to any system or setting you’d like. It’s meant to be played in a single evening, encompassing a single event: a panicked run from a crashed carriage to a church, chased all the while by a swarming sea of ravenous hogmen.

But it’s not a module: it has its own small ruleset and premade characters. It’s Forged in the Dark, and while it is a part of a larger setting, it has no concrete connection to anything beyond its single run. It’s a One-shot RPG, similar to Lady Blackburn or Honey Heist.

The Ring: Part 1

Sat, 31 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I found the ring when I was sixteen.

It was buried deep in my grandmother’s things, in an old dusty chest in the closet. Everything in it belonged to my great grandmother, at least, that’s what my grandmother said.

I had spent the summer looking through old photographs and antique letters, curious about my past for the simple reason that I had no other part about myself with which to be curious.

RPG Errata: Diceless Universal, Ends, and Leveling Up

Thu, 29 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Diceless Universal, by Michael Raston, is a very simple Universal Deterministic RPG. Only four pages long, the rules of the system are barely worth calling rules. Being deterministic, the rule section mostly details how the GM describes the world, and the players react. It is shared storytelling at its most basic; little more than a collaborative argument.

But I talked about that kind of play earlier. What I’d like to discuss now is the very last page, where the system details its progession mechanic: what it takes for characters to level up.

RPG Errata: Darkest Days, and Random Difficulty

Tue, 27 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Darkest Days is a dark fantasy RPG designed by Bell Moon Games. A bit souls-like, the game sees its players as former legendary heroes returned to life by ancient ritual, in a desperate attempt to save the world from demons and monsters. It has an interesting “pip” system for skills, which gives you bonuses from both your stats and your equipment.

One of the more interesting parts of the Darkest Days ruleset is how it handles skill checks. In most modern RPGs, when a player wishes to undertake a task, they are given some measure of difficulty. Most systems call this a “difficulty rating” or a “target number.” You have to roll “better” than this number to succeed at your task.

Okay, but where does this number come from?

Bally the Fool: The End

Sat, 24 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Bally walked all the way through the castle to the other side. He had to turn around several times because the settling stonework had begun to sag into the doorways, jamming the solid wooden doors shut. It was becoming a process to work through the winding maze of hallways.

At last he reached a door to the outside walls. Clamering his way through the stonework, he slipped out of the castle and across the lumpy hills back to the cliff overlooking the sea. Was it a shorter walk than before? Had a large part of the cliff fallen away into the blood-dark waters? He didn’t know. He didn’t much care, either, come to that. He’d rather just sit back and watch as the Spot grew imperceptibly larger.

RPG Errata: Sellswords, and Bargaining

Thu, 22 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Sellswords, by Pagentry Games, is, quote: a tabletop role-playing game about the sorrows of war and those who sow them. It’s medieval in its trappings, though magic and monsters are not in the expected setting. Instead, the world is plagued with war, banditry, and politics. It’s a world filled with the worst excesses of power-hungry warlords draped in religious finery and exotic furs.

The PCs play as mercenaries, masters of brutality and flexible morality, who will do anything and serve anyone for the right price. Perhaps they will do horrific things for the right reasons, or be righteous for the wrong reasons, but only one thing is true: they serve only themselves, their coin, and Lady Fortune.

Sellswords is a diceless game, and rather than concoct an elaborate method of juggling points to pay for results, like Noblis or the Four Points System, Sellswords has a far more elegant system for deciding what happens: GM fiat.

RPG Errata: Cast Away, and Suffering

Tue, 20 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Cast Away, written by by Joe O’Brien & Reilly Qyote, is a survival RPG. Your characters are survivors of a disastrous event, anything from a shipwreck to a zombie apocalypse, and must manage their health, fatigue, food, and shelter in a hostile aftermath.

The system is quite good at what it sets out to do. This is a game of struggle and strife, fighting to survive, and every mistake you make or failure you suffer results in more trouble for you down the line. Failures beget failures, and death for your character is permanent. This game is so good, in fact, that it brings up a significant question about RPGs in general:

This is a difficult game. You’re not expected to survive; not without some serious luck. You’re going to fail, fail hard, and you’re not even allowed to roll up a new character. This game is hard, and if you fail you’re done.

Does that sound like fun to you?

Bally the Fool: The Mob

Sat, 17 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

There was a crowd, or what counted as a crowd, these days. Almost thirty people.

They had tried their best. That fact alone made Bally more angry than anything else he had heard the entire evening. He watched as the small group of peasants sauntered their way up the hill towards the castle gates, waving their three torches and two pitchforks. A scythe was there too, which was a nice touch, but all in all, their heart wasn’t really in it.

RPG Errata: The Great Ork Gods, One Wrestling Ring, and Collaborative Competition

Thu, 15 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

A two-fer, eh? Okay, let’s go!

The Great Ork Gods is an RPG made by Jack Aidley. It’s a one-shot comedic game, designed to be played and forgotten about in an evening. At its most basic; the players play brutish nasty hate-filled Orks, as well as the Orkish gods who hate the Orks as much as the Orks hate them.

One Wrestling Ring to Rule them All (stylized as 1WR) is a Wrestling RPG by Dice Kaptial. The players play as wrestlers who must fight and compete for the entertainment of the onlooking audience. A bingo-card of nine “goals” increase the audience’s score as they are met, including things like one of the wrestlers doing a heel-turn, or performing a specific move during a specific round.

RPG Errata: Blood Red Sands, and Competition

Tue, 13 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Blood Red Sands, by Galileo Games, is an exploration of Competitive RPGs.

I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a game quite like it. When I talked earlier about Competition in RPGs, I focused mainly on the idea of what competition meant in a largely collaborative medium. I talked about how characters might fight each other, but the players themselves never should, and the differences between seeing RPGs as “Non-GM Players vs. GM,” or “Players vs. the Adventure,” or even “Players vs. the Story.”

Now, here comes Blood Red Sands, an RPG that throws out those rules and gives the players Victory Points.

Victory Points!

Bally the Fool: The Monk

Sat, 10 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Bally almost tripped over the mumbling monk. Teek had layed out on the stone hallway, his head ackwardly jammed against the wall as he muttered in his sleep. Bally let out a curse from his lips as he hopped over the recumbant penetant, catching himself expertly just as Teek snorted and coughed.

“Oh my,” he muttered as he opened his eyes. “Bally? Is that you?”

RPG Errata: Ars Magica, and Troupe Play

Thu, 08 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Ars Magica is a bit of an odd duck in RPG land. It was one of the early RPGs, with the first edition released in 1987. The early days of the RPG medium were curious ones, with an interesting mix of experimentation and cloning successes. Games like Atlantis copied D&D, while games like Champions went off in strange new directions.

Ars Magica, despite it’s formulaic pitch (the players being Magic-users in a medieval fantasy setting) is one of the experimental systems.

There is a lot I could talk about with Ars Magica — its magic system is creative and robust, to put it mildly, and the political interplay between magical factions and mundanes plays a huge part in its well developed setting — but what I want to talk about, as you should be able to tell from the title of this piece, is that this is the first system that had a Troupe style of play.

RPG Errata: Sunderwald, and Discovery

Tue, 06 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Sunderwald, made by Long Tail Games, is a Legacy RPG.

Legacy, as an RPG term, has come to mean a game that is focused less on individual characters. Legacy RPGs are generally about regions, families, factions, or generations. The stories develop over in-game years, rather than days or weeks. Players may find themselves playing multiple different individuals over the course of a single campaign, if not a single session.

This is not the kind of Legacy game Sunderwald is.

Bally the Fool: The Tower

Sat, 03 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Climbing up the ragged ladder to the old sage’s tower was not easy. It was made easier, thankfully, by the sage having moved down several floors in his tower, after the top had blown off in a sudden and torrential wind. Now three floors sat open to the rain and winds, the sage’s laboratory protected only by a single trapdoor in the ceiling, where once the ladder continued beyond. It was a flimsy door, and it leaked fiercely in the rain, but it was the best the sage could manage.

“Good Sage Ranquin?” Bally called as he climed the rickety ladder, his hands and feet trembling as they tested every rung, ignoring the creaking and groaning of the wood. “Ranquin, are you there?”

RPG Errata: Strike!, and Reskinning

Thu, 01 Aug 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Strike! is a tactical wargame SRD, without much in the way of world to justify its system. It’s the same combat used in the marvelous Tailfeathers RPG, full of interesting tactical choices and clever little tricks that keep it fresh, fun, and fast.

It also clearly and proudly supports reskinning.

“Re-what?”

Reskinning. This hobby is full of creative people, and one of the major selling points of role-play is the ability to exert your will on the gamespace in a way rarely supported in other mediums; naturally, players often want to change things to suit them.

RPG Errata: Ascendancy, and Double Classes

Tue, 30 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Ascendancy, by Gemworks, is a “Sparked by Resistance TTRPG for 3-5 players, set in a cyberpunk city in a distant future, after the empire that ruled the world for centuries has fallen.”

The “Sparked by Resistance” system originated with the Spire and Heart RPGs, and is similar in many ways to “Forged in the Dark” systems. To take action, players roll one to four d10s, and take the highest to decide how successful, or not, their characters were.

As a system, Ascendancy does a lot of other interesting things with the system, all building on the narrative of ex-weapons trying to survive a post-war cyberpunk world.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the system, or at least the thing that is done rarely, is Ascendancy’s dual-class feature. When creating your persona, you choose not one but two classes for your character.

Bally the Fool: The Dinner

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Halfway to the wine, a trumpet sounded from the ramparts. the sound was quiet over the howling winds. The poor watchman. Bally smiled to himself at the thought of the youth gasping and panting into the flimsy funnel. “The Duke arrives,” Bally raised a finger to the air, drawing Illowen’s attention. “The hunt complete, I wonder what meat he has brought for the table?”

“He wasn’t hunting,” Illowen cocked a curious eyebrow. “He was going to fight a battle against the evil Count de’Tras.”

“Ah, of course,” Bally sighed. “Then I must be mistaken.”

Out of Town

Sat, 20 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Hey folks.

I am heading out of town next week to a place with no cell/internet service, so I will not be posting. Regular posts will continue next Tuesday.

See you then!

RPG Errata: Dungeon Crawl Classics, and Maneuvers

Thu, 18 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Dungeon Crawl Classics, created by Goodman Games, is an OSR-adjacent game, inspired in part by “Appendix N.”

What is “Appendix N?” It’s the Appendix in the original D&D Dungeon Masters Guide that listed sources of inspiration for GMs. Is there any stronger claim to the OSR name? DCC is inspired by the same fictions that inspired the original D&D. It encourages the same OSR sensibilities that other games champion. It is a game where, quote: “Each adventure is 100% good, solid dungeon crawl, with the monsters you know, the traps you fear, and the secret doors you know are there somewhere.”

Which makes it fascinating how different DCC is from the old-school rulesets.

RPG Errata: Committed Relationships with Dice

Tue, 16 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Dice are important to RPGs. I’ve talked a lot about the arbitration between narrative and mechanics, but whatever balance a specific RPG system strikes, it is a nearly universal rule that the mechanics require some form of randomization. The traditional method; dice.

This is a very long-winded way of saying almost every RPG uses dice to help decide what happens in the game.

Bally the Fool: The Kitchen

Sat, 13 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The Palace of Lothvar had once been a towering display of beauty and glory. Ten spires had risen to meet the blue skies of olden years, and a courtyard of massive expanse stretched out in a glittering rotundra of grass, trees, and flowers from across the land. It had been a cathedral to the Duke and his reign.

Now, it was collapsing into ruin. Three of the spires had collapsed into the courtyard, crushing half the garden and uprooting the old oak that had grown there for over a hundred years — according to old Teek the Monk. The gardentender only worked for half each day, doing little more than poking the crawling vines back from the stone walkways, and making sure none of the remaining tree branches were able to fall on someone’s head.

RPG Errata: What Happens Next

Thu, 11 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

“What happens next?”

It is, perhaps the pinnacle of the medium. All the preparation, all the imagination, all the dice and chips and conversation all depends on that one procedure, that game-loop, that single question.

What happens next?

We answer the question in a myriad of ways with a myriad of tools. We think of our characters, and what their emotions or worldviews might push them to do. We think about the story, and what might be fitting. We think of ourselves, and consider what we would find interesting or exciting. We think of our dice, and decide what actions are most likely to succeed. Sometimes, we are simply inspired.

RPG Errata: D&D Alternatives

Tue, 09 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

So I’ve been somewhat unkind to Dungeons and Dragons, I’m sure you’ve noticed.

I have my reasons for that, and I don’t really care to rant about them here, again, for those of you who aren’t sympathetic. If you love D&D, great! Go buy the next edition, and I hope you have a great time with it!

But for those of you who are at least curious about the world beyond the Red Wizards of the Coast, I would like to hand you a stepping stone, as it were. A small collection of simple RPGs that I think will be an easy and gentle dipping-of-toes-in to the alternatives. Better to try one of these first than jump straight into Wanderhome or Noumenon.

Bally the Fool: The Cliffside

Sat, 06 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The sour scent of rancid meat and decaying flowers was faint in the air, this evening. Bally thanked the heavens for small mercies, before catching himself. Any thanks that made their way through the thick clouds would certainly echo in empty halls of marble and gold.

Who had said the halls of the heavens were marble and gold? Bally scratched his nose in thought. It hadn’t been Old Grunby, the dottering hag-priestess, whose joints cracked like crumbling cliffs every time she moved, and spoke of the gods with the passionate furvor of an ancient shaman dancing around a bonfire. It hadn’t been the dottering monk…what was his name…Teek? Yes, that was it. The perpetually grinning old soak spun tales of the heavens like a father lulling his children to sleep, slurring his littanies with both ale and wandering tangents. No. It hadn’t been him…

Who had it been?

RPG Errata: Session Zero Questions

Thu, 04 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I have championed the idea of Cold Opens and Session Zeros, but perhaps been a little coy about the practicalities. What sort of questions and discussions should go into a Session Zero?

There are some obvious answers, such as establishing Lines and Veils, to say nothing of setting and system; but I’ve spent a long time discussing how much more complex a game is than just setting and system. What about Tone? Best practices? Table expectations?

Well, a lot of that requires very personal answers, but I can offer a few ideas. What follows are some suggestions based on what I’ve gleaned from my looking into the genre and importance of Session Zero conversations.

RPG Errata: Introduction

Tue, 02 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

So, what’s all this then?

Well, it turns out that people didn’t stop making RPGs once I finished writing and posting The RPG Medium. Go figure. On top of that, it turns out that there are a lot of games that I didn’t see before I wrote the treatise, some of which fit better than the ones I had chosen to support a specific concept or question.

I’m not going to rewrite my old work, but over time enough new RPGs have crossed my path that it makes sense for me to continue the treatise; an Errata, if you will, that brings in new ideas and supports some old ones.

So to start with, I’d like to lay out a few assumptions going forward; things that are important, but aren’t substantial enough to warrant their own post.

Welcome Back!

Mon, 01 Jul 2024 00:00:00 -0500

A month and some change later, and I’m back.

Am I ready to be back? That’s a different question. I have pondered the idea of extending my hiatus, but that way lies inertia, and I have enough issues with that these days, thank-you-very-much.

So every concern must be dismissed. My buffer is still unsatisfactory…but what would be enough? Noriama still little better than a second draft? Let it be seen anyway, warts and all. Celestial not even half finished? Slow down your posting schedule. Nothing I write is good enough? It never will be, no matter how long you delay. Your ashcan RPG currently stalled out because you need playtesters, and scheduling is a problem? Post it anyway, perfection be damned!

Perfect Timing

Sun, 26 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I swear I didn’t plan it this way.

I wouldn’t have if I could have; I’m put now in a somewhat difficult position of wrapping up both The Poems of Madam Albithurst and The Watch in the Sand in one post. I’d rather do it over two, but time and tide wait for no one; So…

The Poems of Madam Albithurst

Did my experiment work? It’s obviously not my place to say. There is a delight I’ve found in the bizarre and otherworldly tone of the Myriad Worlds, where the people and customs are as clear and distinct as our own, if decidedly unfamiliar. I am currently working on a guidebook to the entire Velvet, and that might not have happened without this experimental work.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 14

Sat, 25 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

November 15, 2048

Serious discussion begins on the Boards on how to restructure the governments of the world, given the advances in communication and Nanocule technology. Some in America suggest decentralizing the major halls of policy; demolishing the White House, 10 Downing Street, the Kremlin, et. al., and moving all official correspondence to the Boards. Others argue for dismantling the concept of representative government entirely, and moving to a pure democracy. Officials from multiple levels of government reject all suggestions.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: An End

Fri, 24 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

And that is how my poem ends.

A satisfying ending for myself, and certainly for my companions, though I am sure it hasn’t entirely ended for all of them.

Mx. Image and Mr. Porist, of course, left for the Tides of Three Shades, though Mr. Porist seemed far more insistent than Image. The poor Marq turned an eye towards me with a mild click of bemusement before they both left. I think our chitinous friend had already attained more than xer goal could provide.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Escape

Wed, 22 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Now I suppose you desire an explanation for what happened once we had finished our dance. Alas, this is a poem, and poetry provides truths not through narrative, but through thought, heart, and soul.

The Great Construction was completed, but so far I think never used. The engineers and scientists went home, happy with their efforts and with the simple assumption that someone somewhere might finish it someday. A commonplace occurrence for those who are only responsible for the middle of a project. Those who begin and those who finish, they never have the luxury of contentment.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Duke

Mon, 20 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The door was large and steel. The room was cold and dark. My Archonarchian friend ushered me inside, and closed the door behind me. The light came from high above, creating a cold silver circle for me to stand in.

I certainly felt at the time that the dark emptiness was a refreshing change from the chaotic outside. The noise had given an ache to my head, and now I found myself at rest. But it was not long before the soothing respite was broken by the sound of approaching steps. In moments, another light shone down from above, a second circle of silver, a moon drawing ever closer to mine. In the middle of the circle stood a man I had seen before.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 13

Sat, 18 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

June 20, 2036

An upgrade is released to the Boards, allowing Nanocules to record sensory input, rather than requiring an external phone or recording equipment. Hand-held devices are now unnecessary to completely utilize the Boards, as video recording is done through the users eyes, while audio recording is done through their ears.

Physical recording equipment begins to disappear. Professional cameramen begin to train themselves to keep their gaze steady without blinking for long periods of time, while sales of professional recording equipment drops sharply, as even the high end recording devices cannot compete with the perfect quality and ease of Nanocules. Indie film developers begin experimenting with this new recording medium, creating ‘Personals’ — stories filmed by the actors, and viewed in first person perspective.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: A Tale of Yurghyn

Fri, 17 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

In the centuries before recorded time, before the Myriad Worlds were set in their spiraling dance, the great giant Yurghyn stood tall on the land of Ut-cart. Ut-cart was, among the known world, the most verdant and beloved of lands, with people who cared well for each other and the balance-of-things.

Yurghyn, however, did not care for the balance-of-things, for the evil that he saw in the wasp sting and the viper’s tooth repulsed him. With his might and magic, he ruled over the people of Ut-cart, and guided them away from evil with a firm and steady fist.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Starkness

Wed, 15 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I am not ashamed to admit, I was crying when we left Lady Song.

I did not look to see if my companions too had been affected by her words; more fool me, I thought it polite. Of course, had I been born of another time and perhaps another place, I would likely have found it the height of callousness to allow them their thoughts alone.

Of course, that lovely part of me that embraces my Sensate nature was already crafting a poem — but now I found myself in conflict twice over. First because I could not find the words to express such an experience as Lady Song — an embarrassment in itself — and second because a portion of me did not want to craft a poem. It felt, in some macabre way, gauche. Barbaric, perhaps, which was a state of being that I had long decided I would never experience.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Lady Song

Mon, 13 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

And there we were, in the darkness.

Surrounded. Alone. The five of us together.

No hopes, no dreams, nothing but the uncertain truth of our situation.

There was a pool of light we could not see.

A howling scream we could not hear.

Children, children everywhere, grabbing and laughing and crying.

Thousands dead, thousands more alive.

A singular moment stretched on into infinity.

We were now, and then, and to become. It was everything I ever wanted. It was Hell.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 12

Sat, 11 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

May 29, 2034

Per capita use of Nanocule Browsing outpaces the use of every other method of board browsing combined. Economists and Market Analysts claim this is the tipping point for Nanocules as the status quo of board browsers.

July 4, 2034

The UVote program is released to the Boards. This experiment in democracy displays all the bills and laws currently in committee, or up for a vote in representative countries across the world. In addition, the program displays a real-time representation of public opinion, sortable in any number of ways, including eligible voters, political affiliations, and economic status. The Amend option allows users to suggest amendments to bills, discuss them, and then informally vote on them.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Mr. Slate

Fri, 10 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Now, I will not say that this is where the conversation ended. I will say that this is where the important and interesting aspects of the conversation ceased. Hours passed as each of us tried in turn, begging, pleading, promising, and threatening. The two Majesties did not mind our efforts, nor succumb to our pleas.

If you are interested in the fascinating, if at times repetitive and at all times impractical, conversation, you may find them in my poem The Detailed Discourse of the Two Majesties.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Two Monarchs

Wed, 08 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Oh, the Apex, the beautiful and winding words that descended from the base of the cervical vertebrae to the occipital.

Heresy. Damnable heresy for one such as I, a Sensate in good standing of the Grandiose Guild, to say I still find myself at a loss for words. What could be said to convey the glory and horror of the hallways, stairways, and byways of the Apex.

For the beauty was not in its sweeping archways, its Ivory palisades, its golden buttresses, nor its marbled cloisters. The strong tendons of the Apex shone in the silver light, yes, and the broad trapezius glistened with glamorous charm.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Riddlemaster

Mon, 06 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Even with the careful and steady guidance of Nock, it took us many days to make our way out of the wooded jungle that was the Inner Wings. We traveled through the Asparitetis and out the other end, around the Oyn and about the Upper Scapula we walked, seeking egress from the foul environs, until at last we arrived at the Pollier.

Covered with barnacles and dangling vines, the Pollier was perhaps the quietest portion of our journey. It was neither cold nor warm, but still and soft. I do not think any of us particularly enjoyed the experience, but it was the necessary transition point between where we were, and where we needed to go: the Spine-case.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 11

Sat, 04 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

7:18 am, October 3, 2055

Jack stared down at her limp form. Part of his brain was working furiously trying to think of what had happened, what was going on. The rest of his brain was calm and detached.

He had met Connie on the train five years ago. She had been reading an old paperback book. He knew the author, and loved the old paperbacks himself, so he worked up the courage to introduce himself. They got into a discussion about favorite authors, and ended up talking about dinner recipes. It wasn’t until their second date that they talked about Nanocules, and whether things were better now or not.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Religious Gameboard

Fri, 03 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I fear the rest of our journey through the tunnels will bore you, and so I shall carefully edit out that which remains incidental. Suffice it to say that there were a great many adventures had with me and my pilgrim as we wandered; a few poems of note, though none deserving of praise.

We spoke little, though it became quite clear that we both understood that the other was searching for the Encinidine. Did we ever truly decide to work together? Perhaps not. All I knew was that somewhere in these tunnels lay the next step on the path. The purportedly knowledgeable Sparker had said so.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: An Agent Reunited

Wed, 01 May 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Down I slid, for how long I do not know. It was a descent most familiar for me, a descent most familiar to all, I am sure.

We have all fallen. Whether through fortune or failure, a steady descent surrounded by guiding sides of metal or wood, that gently nudge us to the left or to the right, in hopes the landing is much softer.

We never look up when we fall. We cannot bear to note how far we have slid, how impossible it will be to return to where we were. Only down, to prepare ourselves for the moment when the fall ceases, for it must cease some day.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Procedure

Mon, 29 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

“I cannot fathom,” muttered Sir Juhrooz, as he turned the paper this way and that, “what the purpose of this procedure actually is.”

“Oftentimes,” Mr. Porist carefully positioned his sheers around his earlobe, “the purpose is the procedure.”

My Doppewassl friend stared at the paper for a moment more, before slowly nodding. “For seven days and six nights, I and my fellow trainees caught a drop of water as it slid down a pane of glass. We would then let the drop fall from our fingertips onto the top of the pane, and catch it again and again. We did not know what this was supposed to teach us, and even now I still do not know. Perhaps it taught me nothing, or perhaps I learned something more than mere knowledge. I sometimes remember how it felt, each drop landing on my finger, then falling again after I crooked my knuckle. I remember noting whether I caught the drop earlier or later, I remember trying to flex my finger in different ways to make the drop fall faster or slower, I remember counting how many times I had caught the drop, and forgetting the number after so many times. Sometimes I wonder if our master was trying to teach us the same.”

The Watch in the Sand: Part 10

Sat, 27 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

November 29, 2028

In reaction to rampant globalization and free trade policies, the Universal Workers Rights Act, or UWRA, is released by the new International Union Movement. The Movement’s aim is to utilize social media to unionize the global workforce. “If companies can move across the world,” the preamble of the UWRA states, “then it is only just that the workers of the world are given the same opportunities. We are human the whole world over, and deserve the same basic human rights, no matter which country we were born in.”

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Paths

Fri, 26 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

You walk forward, or back, you’ll get to where you’re going. Might take days, or weeks, or hours, or seconds, you’ll be where you are, and that’s where you’ll be.

It is at this point, the moment that my merry band plunged deeper into this ominous and portentous domain — a place laden with tales of ominous forbearance and caustic airs — that I must pause to talk of time.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Entryway

Wed, 24 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

“Well then,” Mx. Image shuffled about, looking to and fro. “We are, indeed, in the Sibilants, yes? And yet I have heard countless tales of its nature. Indeed, entering the Sibilants is as easy as opening the door, but leaving again, well…”

“There is no escape,” Sir Juhrooz nodded. “Bound about by sinew and custom, once you have entered the Sibilants, it is here that you will die.”

“Stuff and nonsense,” I assured my companions. “Why, there are at least seven poems regarding the Sibilants in the Guild’s libraries, and how could those poems exist if their creators had not left again? I myself have met several people in the course of my life who have detailed the internals of this macabre domicile, and I am certain I didn’t meet them here. One might as well say that Gnatted Hollow truly is invisible. True, there way out may not be as obvious as the way in, but I am certain some method exists. We must simply find it.”

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Door to the Sibilants

Mon, 22 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I hope you have never seen the Sibilants. I hope you have never lived in nor traveled past the Sibilants and its darkened halls and empty rooms. I have no doubt that there are those who love living among the bones of the long dead, but I cannot imagine what kind of beings they might be. They are certainly not of my ilk.

I, for my part, had never set foot behind the ivory doors that lead to the hollow bones of the Underheel, and so I was quite excited, perhaps even eager, to walk the horrid hallways of the Sibilants and meet the dark denizens therein. Foolish? Perhaps. Reckless? Most certainly.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 9

Sat, 20 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

July 9, 2027

Nanocules become capable of administering major gene therapy. Nanocules are injected that scan and record the patient’s entire genome. The Banks then instruct the Nanocules how to painstakingly reconstruct the patient’s genes, removing minor flaws and genetic risks. The process is anonymous, non-invasive, and takes one month to perform.

Nicknamed ‘scrubbing,’ the process is prohibitively expensive, except for the richest.

October 1, 2027

Gene therapy prices drop to the point where the majority of Nanocule users can afford the process. The Banks begin tailoring various medications to specific patients with the information gleaned from their genes. The effectiveness of these tailored cures increases drastically, while side effects all but vanish.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Joining the Army

Fri, 19 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

So we returned to the Grand Junction, reveling all the while. The Dworgs were delivered to the local authorities without delay once the Galaship had docked once more. They marched in single file with their stone faces held high, their twig-beards clattering as they walked. They were met by a contingent of the Anointed Bulwark along with a veritable garment-rack of shackles, irons, chains, and cuffs.

At the front of the vanguard was the chiseled nose of my dear Captain de’Laisey.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Dworgs

Wed, 17 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The four Dworgs were being held, and I use the term gently, by General Tritsk. He had set them down in a small adjoining sitting room, and was pacing back in forth in front of them like a worried hen. His medals clattered and jangled as he stalked, head panning side to side as he studied each of his detainees.

For their part, the Dworgs sat calmly, quietly, and patiently. They turned to look at me as I entered the room and walked to the General’s side. “Forgive me, General,” I began most politely, “but I would like to speak with these gentlefolk alone, for a moment.”

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: A Poisoning

Mon, 15 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Of course, as with all journeys, the will to travel did not aid us in actually getting there. Mr. Porist said so almost immediately: “What shall we do next? We cannot go anywhere for some time, as Lord Pulkwark’s Galaship will not stop until it has reached its berth, as I doubt our host would be willing to lend us a lifeboat. And even then, the coming war will surely cause chartering a new vessel to be quite difficult, if not impossible.”

The Watch in the Sand: Part 8

Sat, 13 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

April 14, 2027

An impassioned speech given to the North Carolina State Legislature goes viral on the Boards. Anti-IAN groups see a massive increase in donations and memberships. The Naturalist Movement takes the forefront of this surge, becoming the defacto spokes-party for anti-IAN sentiment, demanding that all copyrights and private information regarding IANs be released into the public domain.

April 21, 2027

The first documented use of Nanocule as a proper noun for IANs is published in a popular blog. ‘Nanocule’ begins to become the public name for IANs, joining Xerox, Kleenex, and Google as brand names that have become a noun or verb.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Lord Pulkwark's Ball

Fri, 12 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The Galaship Ruskinolam was a mighty vessel, large enough to entertain hundreds of the most exacting and particular lords and ladies from across the Myriad Worlds. Different wings on different decks had their own climates, designed to keep the different races comfortable, or uncomfortable, as their proclivities leaned.

For those who found the average, or should I perhaps say median climate tolerable enough, or perhaps had some method of preventing the worst of their adverse affects to such atmosphere, gathered in the central ballroom. The room was taller than most trees I have seen, and wide enough to require two chamber-orchestras at either end to ensure that the reveling attendees did not miss the subtle overtones of the chosen music. The skill required for both orchestras to play in perfect unison was worthy of note. I am always impressed by such displays of devotion to ones’ passion and craft.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Docks of Grand Junction

Wed, 10 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

How glum me and Mr. Porist must have looked, standing on the Docks of the Grand Junction, watching the vessels come and go.

We had tried to return to Lady Quixtactictle’s residence to say goodbye, only to find the way barred by officers of the Anointed Bulwark, who with their badges and truncheons explained in no uncertain detail why we were not allowed re-entry. Now we stood, sullen and sad, aside the docks, waiting for available passage on any of the vessels that traveled to and from the Grand Junction.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Constabulary Returns

Mon, 08 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The events that spanned our delightful reunion at Lady Quixtactictle’s mansion, and the remarkably less delightful environs of the local Constabulary are not worthy of report. Instead, allow me to explain what happened just before myself and Mr. Porist were released on our own recognizance, as they are far more pertinent to this particular poem.

Once again, my dear Captain Sir Venriki de’Laisey was eager to reacquaint himself with my company. I could only imagine how long he had searched for me, after realizing he had let me slip through his fingers once before without so much as a nightcap.

A Gentle Hiccup

Sat, 06 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Due to a brief jaunt to Ohio to view the Eclipse, there will be no post on Monday.

Instead, there will be a double-post on Wednesday! Thank you for your patience, and I’ll see you then!

The Watch in the Sand: Part 7

Sat, 06 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

November 24, 2026

The FDA officially declares IANs safe enough for over-the-counter use.

Competing protests shut down Boston. The news reports from inside the city explain some protesters are demanding cheaper access to Nanocules for the lower classes, while others demand more regulation and research into this new and potentially dangerous technology.

November 25, 2026

Over the counter ‘IANdigestion’ pills are made available for sale, marketed to prevent indigestion, heart burn, gas, and constipation for a full day if taken in the morning. These pills are 99.53% effective. One package of thirty pills costs five dollars. Side effects are minor, including mild stomach-aches, and occur in less than .01% of the population.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Agitated Conflict

Fri, 05 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I must take the opportunity to applaud Lady Quixtactictle’s taste in servants, as not a one behaved anything less than perfectly properly. Indeed, it is difficult to answer the door when it has been blown off its hinges, but the tall butler managed, with her firm back and graceful limbs, to provide some measure of propriety to the sudden and violent assault on our host’s mansion.

The assailants, unfortunately, were not nearly as respectful of her efforts as we were. Smoke and light poured into the dining hall, the sound of metal and gunpowder filled my ears. There was a great shouting of many different voices, and it was only after I gripped Mr. Porist about the middle that I managed to shake him from his shocked stupor and drag him underneath the table.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Mansion of Lady Quixtactictle

Wed, 03 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Mr Porist and I then followed Lady Quixtactictle to her mansion — a term of endearment in this case, as the Grand Junction was simply not large enough to contain a residence of the size people of Lady Quixtactictle’s status are accustomed to. As such, Lady Quixtactictle’s domicile on the third level of the Grand Junction was merely fifteen rooms large, and somewhat humble in terms of decoration and extravagance.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Grand Junction

Mon, 01 Apr 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Oh, how suitably named is the Grand Junction; a place of a thousand wonders and delights. From all across the Myriad Worlds come travelers seeking new lands on which to place their feet, free from the confines of their old lands and cultures. They mix freely with each other like masters of their own destinies. Exotic Foods are exchanged along with foreign coin. Soft steel is traded for hard silk. Songs are sung, and even if the words are all wrong and the tune is not right, the song is clearly the same.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 6

Sat, 30 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

7:46 am, October 3, 2055

The door opened to Erin’s office. She entered, followed by Jack shaking the last few drops of rain water off his coat as he wiped his eyes, and looked carefully around the darkened room. A split second later the heat/motion sensor near the door flicked the lights on, bathing the room in a soft white sheen, and turning on the picture-wall to reveal Erin’s collection of photos. A soft violin concerto filtered out from the wall speakers, filling the room with its soothing melody, and the wall behind the couch faded into a huge window to let in the first thin rays of morning sun.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: On the Back of the Golbegigenthwaite

Fri, 29 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

“Oh?” Mr. Porist turned to look at his own shoulder as best he could. “And what manner is that?”

At Mr. Porist’s request, the Twist did leap up into the air, and perform a most magnificent spin before landing once more on the wooden deck of the barge. Darting about like a nervous frog, the Twist did tug at ropes and push at wheels, performing no end of complex navigation that was quite beyond my understanding.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Twist

Wed, 27 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I awoke to the sight of a childish face staring down at me. The face was small, kind, and unashamed. Wound about with colored cloth, the skin was covered with slanted parallel lines, a strange scar or tattoo I had never seen before.

I sat up, most uncomfortably, as my various limbs had chosen to become quite stiff and sore. The face moved backwards, and in motion were the scars made clear: they were no tattoos but breaks in the papery skin, shifting back and forth as the little thing danced away, half like a child and half like a dancing ribbon tied the end of a stick.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: A Dead Passenger

Mon, 25 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The rest of the evening passed without notable event. Sir Juhrooz was, in fact, a rather dull dinner companion, of a kind with Mr. Porist. He ate very little, and spent most of his conversation speaking most shamefully about various bloody battles and bristling confrontations with any number of villainous and bestial foes. It might have indeed been a most interesting and delightful conversation, had I not heard similar from half of all the soldiers I had ever met.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 5

Sat, 23 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

February 27, 2024

Due to overwhelming medical and economic concerns, two lobbies form a joint petition to Congress, demanding extensive regulation of Nanocule Inc, and the creation and marketing of IANs.

The Medical Practitioners Lobby cites the current high cost and scarcity of medical grade IANs as being prohibitive for family practitioners. The Pharmaceutical Lobby claims that in the future, no drug company will be able to compete with the incredibly cheap and prolific IANs using conventional drug manufacturing methods. Both lobbies claim Nanocule Inc. must be considered a monopoly, and therefore dismantled. The irony does not go unnoticed in the media.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: Archonarchians

Fri, 22 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

We took dinner, Mr. Porist and I, on the outer deck; a favorite place of mine on every Golden Howdah. The Velvet is a romantic view for those who are not used to it, and so it is always the most interesting of characters who find themselves wandering the decks, staring out at the effervescent void, leaning with causal admiration against the braces, or pressing hard against the railing.

Of course, there are a great deal of interesting people who avoid the Velvet, but it was merely the first day of travel, and those who were adventurous enough in spirit to brave the outer decks were my particular taste that evening.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: The Golden Howdah

Wed, 20 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I am not particularly against Mr. Porist, and I find his pookay quite a dear. Nevertheless, there is a reason we of the Glorious Guild of Sensationalists try to keep ourselves separate from a particular personality of person. To be clean, clear, and open to the sensations that surround us, it is good to have, as it were, a clean palate.

Mr. Porist is a charming man, with a great many qualities that make him an excellent traveling companion. He is quiet, considerate, tidy, and above all, small. However, in spite of his relative restraint and reserverance, one cannot help but be aware of the man. His tan suits are forever being pulled and poked by his orange fingers. His long nose is forever audible, and the semi-regular snipping of his shears — a requirement if his ears are to remain under control — cannot help but distract.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: There-And-Back

Mon, 18 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

Now of course, I didn’t believe a word of what my dear Captain said. The High on High never involved themselves with anything without the firm insistence that their busybodying would prevent, or at least hinder, some catastrophe to the Myriad Worlds themselves. I, of course, rarely believed their prattle, but to release the Torquates…well, let me just say that I had experienced their incessant intensity before, and I was not willing to brush off their involvement so casually as my dear Captain wanted me to.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 4

Sat, 16 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

October 20, 2020

Geoff Bugess, a student at UC Berkeley, creates the Line Standard, or LSTD. This internet protocol is an incredibly fast and secure method of allowing individual devices to connect to a single wireless signal. LSTD is released as Open Source for use in the Line when it is completed.

March 29, 2021

The first Zettabyte server is designed and built by the Bundestag of Germany in Pottsdam. Holding more than one trillion gigabytes of data, several prominent politicians demand this server be given to the people, providing one free web-page to every citizen of Germany. Several European countries follow suit, building their own servers and providing Boards and online storage to their citizenry.

The Poems of Madam Albithurst: A Crime Scene

Fri, 15 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

I suppose, as it was the first thing that caught my eye when I entered the room, I must first describe the splatter of blood that covered the bone white flower petals of the potted plant as it rested on the sideboard.

It rather put me in mind of a particular pattern I had seen before: that of a curiously spotted animal that caught my eye over the edge of a Golden Howdah during one of my many jaunts. I do so adore my jaunts, as there are truly few times that one can truly be surprised anymore, except when one finds oneself surrounded by all manner of beings in a cramped ship carrying one between one place and an entirely other.

From Raiselig to Albithurst

Wed, 13 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

The End

Did I succeed in my efforts with The Raiselig Dossier? An interesting question to think about, for me. A lot of my intent was to play around in a world, to take a specific “what if” and drag it to its logical conclusion. What would a magical fantasy world be like, if magic were legislated to near extinction?

Because that’s what became obvious, as I wrote. More and more the magical beings and spells of the ancient times faded away, not because “the world has moved on,” but because the laws of magic themselves became too onerous. Try as you might, there comes a time when even the most zealous among us must rest, and as more and more beings grow weary of their burdens…

The Raiselig Dossier: The Festival of Light Part 3

Mon, 11 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0500

After a goodly time, Raiselig sat on a rock. The rock was beside the road. It was a diversion Raiselig had not given themself in some time.

Nevertheless, the road and the rock.

Down and up the road lay in different directions than either down or up. Indeed, their only relation to each other was direct opposition. It had always bothered Raiselig, more-so that it didn’t seem to bother anyone else.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 3

Sat, 09 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0600

February 15, 2015

Facebook successfully acquires Twitter in the largest tech merger in world history. Before the end of the business day, the number of Facebook accounts passes the two-billion mark. Researchers guess that of the two billion accounts, only 1.2 billion users actually exist. The rest are duplicates, dummy accounts, or inactive.

April 6, 2015

The Jericho Hack strikes the Internet. Two million people find their names, addresses, family trees, place of work, salaries, blood type, allergies, favorite foods, medical histories, and sexual preferences posted to the Internet. Tightened security from hacking is demanded from a panicking public.

The Raiselig Dossier: The Festival of Light Part 2

Fri, 08 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The Kingdom of Tyw stood tall and proud against the white hills. From atop the king’s tallest tower, the whole of the horizon was his to call his own. There were no other rulers who dared challenge his might, nor who chafed too harshly under his rule.

The people of Tyw were hearty and strong, and unified in their delight of the one thing that was their birthright; life itself.

The Raiselig Dossier: The Festival of Light Part 1

Wed, 06 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Time passed, as it ever did.

It is a joke — or perhaps if not a joke, a shared understanding — between the Scriveners that the world was like a scale nested on by an indecisive bird. The seasons changed, the herds migrated, wars and festivals were held with equal amounts of enjoyment and obligation…

And then the bird hopped to the other side of the scale, and it all began again. It was perhaps a more verbose means of saying “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” and was therefore perfectly suited to the art of Scrivening.

The Raiselig Dossier: Here, in the Castle at the Edge

Mon, 04 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The letter was written on dry leather. It was written with black ink taken from the glands of a deep-sea monster. It was shaped with a pen carved from the finger-bone of a dead god. It was dusted with the sands made from ancient cities long since crumbled away. The wax of the seal was made from the blood of a man who had been hanged for killing his lover in fear of what she had birthed, and mixed with the rendered fat of a stillborn horse.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 2

Sat, 02 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0600

July 2, 2012

MIT and University of British Columbia scientists develop a new method of treating disease using tiny capsules containing DNA and other biological machinery for making a drug. The nanoscale production units are tiny spheres encapsulating synthetic RNA like that found in living cells. The resulting nanoparticles produce active proteins on demand when the researchers shine a laser light on them.

August 3, 2012

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration grants approval for “ingestible sensors” invented by Proteus Digital Health. These 1 square millimeter devices are embedded in pills, and relay information about the insides of a patient to a doctor or nurse. The sensor transmits that information through the skin to a stick-on patch, which in turn sends the data to a mobile phone application or other authorized device.

The Raiselig Dossier: A Small Favor

Fri, 01 Mar 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Raiselig was walking before they even felt the tug. Their feet were moving once more before they even knew which direction to go. It didn’t matter, their feet knew.

They had only felt such a pull some time before; a darker time in their life. They had hoped to never feel it again. A small piece of their mind was grateful they had not been studying some finer point in case law or researching important precedent, lest they had been forced to leave important documentation behind. As it was, they only had to reach out and pull their yellowwood cabinet onto their back before they continued to walk.

The Raiselig Dossier: The Farmer Part 2

Wed, 28 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Hollis set his youngest down and handed his spade to his eldest. “I will be back before dark,” he said. “Keep working the rows until they are clean, and then help your sister feed the cows.”

His eldest nodded, taking the spade with reverence and not a little fear. His children had learned from a young age not to touch their father’s tools. To be given the responsibility, even though it was not the first time, held weight.

The Raiselig Dossier: The Farmer Part 1

Mon, 26 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

When Hollis was a young boy, he wanted to work with his father in the fields. He saw men and women both young and old toil in the rich earth, growing green plants and roots that became delicious and nourishing meals. In his young mind, farming was what his people did, and he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to join in.

He didn’t know that was what he wanted, he just knew he wanted his own spade, his own hoe, his own water-pail.

The Watch in the Sand: Part 1

Sat, 24 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

7:31 am, October 3, 2055

It was raining hard as Jack Reed ran from the train station, heading further from downtown Chicago. The high-speed train had taken only four minutes to get to the northern suburbs, and from the station it was a three minute run to Erin’s office. Jack wasn’t sure why he had decided on Erin — had he even decided? Or had his body taken over, guiding his footfalls towards the north-bound platform while his brain was confused? Was he deciding anything, he wondered? All he could remember was staring at the bodies, scared and alone, and then running for the northbound train.

The Raiselig Dossier: Punishment Part 2

Fri, 23 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The ceremony was perfect. Raiselig was pleased.

The gifts of thanks came quickly and with little celebration. Raiselig was not surprised at this, as the people of Yolan were a proud sort, and didn’t take kindly to any suggestion that they were less pious or devoted than they could be. It was an odd dichotomy that Raiselig had never been able to understand. As a Scrivener, they were idolized by the Yolan people, and yet these proud and happy citizens couldn’t see Raiselig’s back soon enough.

The Raiselig Dossier: Punishment Part 1

Wed, 21 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The earth shook as Levret leaped to the side, barely evading the thick oak tree-trunk. Tucking into a roll, Levret swung their sword up and over, hoping against hope that the Ogre was clumsier than it looked.

His hope was for naught; rumbling laughter shook overhead. “Foolish boy of woman born, I’ll strip your skin like fleece is shorn!”

A gust of wind ruffled Levret’s long blonde hair as he turned to face his hated foe. “You’ve plagued the countryside for too long, Gob. Once you are slain, the valley villages will at last be able to live in peace!”

The Raiselig Dossier: Demon's Eye

Mon, 19 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Hate.

It was like a sauna inside her skull.

Pressure. Hissing through leaks and cracks in the skin. Moist air flecked with sparks and flashes of venom and bile. Aversion. Desire. Inflamed. Hate.

Years passed.

Only once a year did she open her single eye, to gaze upon the black stalagmites and stalactites that were her prison. Her home.

For centuries she saw nothing, and so for centuries she went hungry.

Goodbye Ozzie

Sun, 18 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

For the first half¹ of my creative career, I was an actor. Still am, in some ways, and a great deal of my writing has the stain of performative dialogue.

What I mean by that is: a lot of my writing comes out on the page sans the tone or emphasis that it has in my head.

Sometimes this a wonderful thing. Good writers can convey the sound of their characters’ voices with just words on the page, while bad writers…well, compare any transcript of a Donald Trump monologue to its recording,² and see how much information is lost without the pauses, the emphasis, the pitch of voice…

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 22

Sat, 17 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

No one is at Binny’s place anymore.

I showed up there once or twice, and it was just me and him.

I don’t say anything to him, and he doesn’t say anything to me. What is there to say? Word gets around, so why talk when you’ve heard it all?

The Raiselig Dossier: Goblin

Fri, 16 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Raiselig was allowed a maximum of seven days of vacation a year. It was a paltry amount for most, but Raiselig constantly had trouble finding times and places to indulge.

Relaxing was such an odd concept to Raiselig. When your being was your purpose, pausing in your efforts was akin to a kind of suicide, wasn’t it? If you weren’t working, then why were you?

Calchona had tried to explain it several times. Raiselig understood the idea of sleep, rest, even the idea of taking a moment to catch one’s breath — which was no small feat for someone who didn’t breathe.

The Raiselig Dossier: Whence Came Judgment Part 2

Wed, 14 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The courtyard of Doom Keep was little more than a pile of mud. There were no paths walked by mortal feet anymore, save the aimless drifting of the soulless bodies clad in rusting armor. They stared, unblinking, into the dark skies that rained with black ichor.

Raiselig and Shosushai walked side by side down the slick stone steps, each holding onto the other so they did not fall. The corpses watched them pass.

The Raiselig Dossier: Whence Came Judgment Part 1

Mon, 12 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Fitting, that the thunder split the sky like a sword. Well did it suit the mood of the warlord that rain fell like arrows, piercing the heart with their chill. It was meet that the distant fogs billowed like acrid smoke towards the fortress gates.

Drozior, the Dark Lord, Slayer of the Seven Moons and bringer of death and blood to the lands of Illshir, had slain thousands of men and women. He slaughtered the peasantry with no hint of fear nor dissatisfaction. For all of Drozior’s reign, the great palisades of Doom Keep rose high over a land run wet with red blood. So they said it was this that gave the stones their dark red hue.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 21

Sat, 10 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Day later. Week later. Don’t know. Sitting on the steps outside Binny’s. Darla comes by. Dressed to the nines.

“Hi,” I say. “Haven’t seen you around.”

“I’m not staying,” she says.

I nod, suck on my stick. “Yeah?”

“Gotta go.”

I nod. Suck again. “Where?”

“Don’t know.”

What did she want from me? Did she really not give a care? Try as I might, I had no idea what caused her to change her mind. Must have been something miserable I had done, but I had no idea what.

The Raiselig Dossier: In Shadows Lay

Fri, 09 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Deep in the darkest night it lay.

It had learned, over the years, to be patient. Good things would always come to those who wait, and it had waited a very long time indeed. Empires rose and fell, languages came and went. Certain words fell in and out of fashion, and sometimes took on new meanings all together.

Before long, it could feel the time was right…

And it reached out a shadowy claw…

The Raiselig Dossier: The Spirit of Coldstone Part 2

Wed, 07 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

It took only an hour for Raiselig and Vharpanu to prepare themselves.

As it was in Vharpanu’s ancient nature to find things hidden, she acquired the necessary tools. A sprig of living holly and a twig of dead birch. Shavings from a newborn calf’s hoof. Three drops of innocent blood. A plank of wood from an old woman’s bed. It was makeshift, but satisfactory.

Raiselig, for their part, sharpened their steel memory with the ancient laws. Contracts were studied, decisions were analyzed, and the myriad strings that wove the tapestry of ritual together were made plain.

The Raiselig Dossier: The Spirit of Coldstone Part 1

Mon, 05 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The clatter of teacups and china saucers filled the air of the Café Couronne des Prés. A perfumed bouquet of infusions from across the world tantalized the nose. Travelers and locals laughed and spoke of many things across tables of ivory and bronze. Cakes as soft as pillows and breads as tough as leather provided suitable accent to the marvelous tastes that sweetened every gullet in that marvelous Café.

It was the one place in perhaps all the land that two Scriveners could meet in public without attracting undue attention.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 20

Sat, 03 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

It feels like you’re alone. Like really alone for the first time in your life.

Even when there is no one else around, there’s a part of you that’s still there. It’s looking over your shoulder and critiquing everything you do. It shows you every facet of your life, and makes you watch. It rubs your nose in every failing, and laughs at every foible. That part of you that hates you is always there. That part of you that draws the lines and puts up walls. The part of you that warns you about what might happen, or what could happen. The part that is always looking ahead of you for stray banana peels and sharp rocks. All the neurosis and psychosis that life lays over the real you are there, even when there’s no one else around. Especially when there’s no one else to drown out the voices in your head. When there’s no telephone ringing. When there’s no car rushing you somewhere else.

The Raiselig Dossier: On the Day of Celebrations

Fri, 02 Feb 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The House of the Horned Serpent was bustling that night, loud cheers for more wine and women flowed through the air as freely as the liquor. To call it mirth would be a disservice.

Raiselig was not taking part in the gaiety; or rather, they were not taking part in the noise. They were celebrating as loudly and as energetically as they ever did, which is to say they had a fresh and young bottle — young by their standards, at any rate — of a rich red Carménère, which they had been working through for most of the evening.

The Raiselig Dossier: At the River Wide

Wed, 31 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The boy’s name was Edvin Coineagan, and little else is known about him.

That is, little else is known by the mortal men and women who tell the tale. More is known by the wise and learned Scriveners, for it is their tale as well, and their methods of telling tales are mysterious and inscrutable.

There are countless things we do not know of the boy; such as what brought him to the misty moor that dark morning, what caused his breath to come in ragged sobs, and perhaps why he chose to run towards the woman when she looked at him, and not flee.

The Raiselig Dossier: A Freedom most Fit

Mon, 29 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

“Name?”

Raiselig didn’t bother to look at the guardsman, instead pulling a thin scrip out of their pocket and flashing it at him.

“Ah. Scrivener, eh?”

Now Raiselig looked.

“I am Scrivener, Keeper of the Law and follower of Ritual. Bringer of order and Hand of the Seven Manifold Prayer. The Willow Scribe herself wrote my name in the Book of the Rite, and thereby granted me the rights and duties therein. I speak the Law, and maintain the magics of the world thereby.”

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 19

Sat, 27 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

I can step out of the taxi. Feels good. Flashes and sparks starting to fade into the deep darkness of the skull. Dry air rushing against my face feels good. Hard dry concrete under my shoes. Shoes under my feet. Feet under my head.

Take a deep breath. Smells good. Damn I’m thirsty. Need a sip.

The taxi provides support as Darla climbs out, her eyes tight, looking unhappy at me. Everything’s fine. I timed it. What’s her problem? Everything be fine when I get a drink of water. Coffee. Something. Called ahead, right? I’m sure I did. Feel the drop as the sizzle simmers. A little sizzle still, but dropping. I’m fine. I timed it.

The Raiselig Dossier: The Landed Duke Part 2

Fri, 26 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

For hours they traveled; Duke Rensburg on his horse, Raiselig walking behind him. They wandered through the small forests and along the winding brooks, until at last they reached the foot of a mighty hill.

Here, the Duke turned to Raiselig and smiled. “My ancestor performed a survey, a study of the lines that cross our land, and she found the perfect place, atop the tallest hill. In her diary, she describes it quite perfectly. Atop this mock mountain will the ritual be performed.”

The Raiselig Dossier: The Landed Duke Part 1

Wed, 24 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Ad Adwazi, city of lights. Called Neverdark by the beings once indigenous, now foreign to the cobblestoned streets and tight corners. Graveyard to thousands who dreamed of romance and riches beyond the reach of their humble birth-villages, and home to thousands more.

Here, the golden gates of Ahnkarad, where the gilded general himself rode on his black horse through the applauding throngs to pay respects to the new-crowned king. Here, the arch of Razazal, where ten thousand plus ten demons toiled for but four seconds — the holy number — to craft an entryway to the east quarter of the city befitting a magician of Razazal’s renown. Here, the Gardens of Verdant Tranquility, planted by her gracious majesty, the Yanith Queen, whose silver hands, uncovered only in the moonlight, blessed the ground with her holy touch and brought forth flowers undreamed of in the region before or since. Here, the famed Inn of the Ninth Scroll, where the Holy Traveler Lorabesh rested her head for two nights but not three; where Elthred the Wise composed his great epic which is still sung to this day; where Rukyva, Baron of the West Winds, won his bet with the Ilfen Fay; and where the Homeless Friar received his sixth vision of disillusion.

The Raiselig Dossier: Five Flowers Part 3

Mon, 22 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Raiselig stood at the forest edge for an hour, running through every contract they could think of in their head. Every gesture, every token, every aspect of the meeting had to go according to plan.

When at last they were prepared, they reached out and selected a small twig from the forest floor. Holding it tightly in their fist, they set out into the darkened forest.

The journey was long, but easy. Raiselig knew the myriad contracts addressing safe travels through claimed woods. They probably didn’t need to obey each one — there were few spirits both powerful enough to harm a Scrivener and yet foolish enough to attempt to do so — but it was a sign of respect to follow the obligations in any case, and Raiselig was as bound by their duties as any spirit. They could not force any signatory to do anything they did not wish, unless expressly detailed in a forfeit clause.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 18

Sat, 20 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

I didn’t betray Leon. I swear. After Cindy’s chant, what he said, did he think he was recruiting me? Like making me part of his team? What did he think was going to happen? How he think it was going to go? Binny step down and everything work for him?

Cindy asked one day. Binny didn’t say anything except ‘dark magic.’ That was that. Leon was gone. He wasn’t ever coming back.

Cindy didn’t like that. She pouted about power-plays and how no one should ever get kicked out, that wasn’t what the chant was about, was it? That was the point of a circle.

The Raiselig Dossier: Five Flowers Part 2

Fri, 19 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

It took less than an hour after Padarom left the dais for the headman to return, followed by two women.

The first was Mala, her eyes filled with an uncertain peace. The second woman wore glasses and carried a thick leather book and kept her head bowed.

“Who is this?” Raiselig asked before the headman could stammer out his obsequities.

“This is my secretary,” the headman gestured. “She will answer any questions about our town that you have, and remain at your service for anything you require. She is your servant as long as you remain in town.”

The Raiselig Dossier: Five Flowers Part 1

Wed, 17 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

When the seasons began to change once more from the cold season to the planting, the fair maiden Mala at last consented to be Padarom’s wife.

This was an event of great portent, for Mala’s family had lived in Souran Village for many centuries, while Padarom had arrived only two years ago, with nothing more than a cart full of wood and a tired old horse. The old women of the village were not warm to him, and they wasted no time in whispering among themselves at what would bring such a young man to such a small village that lay half-way between civilization and nowhere.

The End of Edmund, Introducing Raiselig

Tue, 16 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The End

The Macabre Tale of Edmund Moulde took me more than a decade to write, and I still can’t honestly say “I’m done.” Art is never finished, only abandoned, and I could continue to tinker with this and that for decades more.

I certainly can’t say it’s polished. Only the first book really reached that level of “completeness” for me, I’d still call the last three “second drafts” at best.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Epilogue

Mon, 15 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund set down his pen, and closed the book.

“Enough. A good place to stop. Because that’s where things started, you see?”

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 17

Sat, 13 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

I walked home from the hospital. Didn’t want to take the train. Didn’t have the green, didn’t bother to chant. Just walked. Wandered up from Downtown. Nothing special. Done it before.

Walked past old stores locked up for dinner. Office buildings with guards out front, standing still and watching life flow by. Saw restaurants with people inside, eating together, their minds on the day past or the day ahead. I saw lots of things, but people didn’t see me.

I didn’t feel good. Wrong kind of not good, too. Wasn’t sick, or needed a sizzle. Not hungry, not dizzy, nothing like that. Don’t know why I felt so bad. Never felt like it before. Something about seeing Ribber in the hospital bed. Don’t know.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 21

Fri, 12 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

The Wedding of Patron Edmund Moulde is regarded by historians as one of the most significant events in the history of Europe. By means of demonstration, one need look no further than the story of Her Honorable Grace, Lady Milkquise of Donturry.

After accepting the invitation to Edmund’s wedding, Lady Milkquise of Donturry chose to dress in a thick crinoline and bustle, frilled with thin lace and pearl beads. Her hair was done up with a delicate lace of birch twigs, all in all creating a picture of elegant, if ever so slightly dated, fashion.

While most onlookers considered this a somewhat daring commentary on the speedy social changes that had come about since the Great War, several other gentry made similar choices with their own dress, wearing styles and fashions that were haute couture not a year ago.

However, Lady Milkquise of Donturry had not chosen this dress out of sociopolitical anxiety, but because she had worn a dress of similar design and color three years ago, during a particularly lovely picnic alone with the then eligible bachelor Lord Grumsworth of Tent. The spring rains had come early, and the two of them had been forced to separate from their chaperons to seek shelter under an old fishing hut on the edge of the lake.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 20

Wed, 10 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund’s announcement ball was held on the 22nd of July, two months before his wedding.

The guest list included every head of the other eight Founding Families, (All of whom declined to attend) and a collection of dignitaries from various important royal families and elite gentry. The provided food and drink was passable, if traditional, and seasoned with a small chamber orchestra of substandard reputation.

All in all, it was not a particularly memorable evening in itself. Luckily, the only reason anyone showed up was to say they had been one of the first to hear who Patron Moulde was going to marry.

In accordance with tradition, Edmund gave a short speech, making sure to follow the proscribed etiquette to the letter, and announced his betrothal to Googoltha Rotledge, granddaughter of the recently emigrated Tricknee Rotledge.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 19

Mon, 08 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

As he crested Haggard Hill, the rhythmic beat of Ung’s spade hitting the earth of Haggard Hill reached his ears. It was soothing to Edmund, slow and steady like a heartbeat.

“Tea’s ready, begging-your-pardon.”

Edmund nodded his thanks while Mrs. Kippling curtsied again and again as she slipped back inside Moulde Hall. He glanced at the tea-service. Two cups; perfect. “I will meet with her now,” he nodded to Enga. Turning his gaze back to the garden, Edmund watched as Ung toiled away, scraping and pushing at the earth.

“Is it worth it?”

Ung paused to brush his thick hand across his brow. “Sir?”

Edmund clasped his hands behind his back. “You have been working in the garden ever since the war. You’ve toiled for months, and I cannot help but wonder…are you getting what you want out of this effort?”

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 16

Sat, 06 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

You know what I got?

I got no apartment. I got no green. I got the chant and the emptyspace and a circle who chant with me. I get hungry, I get lucky. Chant for green, sometimes, chant for food. Darla, she buys me food, share the spoils. I got a roof to sleep under, and if Darla ever shove me out, I got flops and couches, couches for days.

You know what I got? I got self respect.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 18

Fri, 05 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund read the document, slowly.

He had almost forgotten he could. Ever since Matron had died, he had been given so many papers to sign, and they all had been so important, that he had relied on the skills he had honed during the war. He had read countless legal briefs, contracts, and affidavits in the time it took him to sign his name.

Technically, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really have the time to read slowly now, either. There was a wedding to plan, a meeting with the Brocklehursts, a letter to Junapa, he was expecting Father Bromard to stop by…

But after all of it, after all the time he had spent planning and fighting and struggling to save the Moulde Family, this moment needed to be savored.

Edmund picked up the pen.

It had all started with pens. The first invention Edmund had ever made. He knew, even at such a young age, that pens were important. Would be important. He wanted to make them better, and he did. Then he leased the patent, and gathered enough of a fortune that he could pay of a hefty portion of the Moulde Family debt.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 17

Wed, 03 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund was not one for pacing. Even later in life, he found the idea that expending energy to move with no particular aim in mind an unreasonable, if not absurd, notion.

Composure. Stillness. Calm. Pause. These were the words of one focused on thought.

Edmund was pacing.

He had thought already. He had made his decisions, focused his efforts…things were in motion. There was little point in more thought when he could do little to affect the coming course of events. He knew what Wislydale would do, he knew what the Church would do, he knew what the Founding Families would do…

But even the wisest cannot craft perfect plans without all the information.

Edmund paused in his pacing to stare at the single sheet of note-paper he had written during the night. The problem was spelled out in plain and perfect language. A moment more of thought was all Edmund needed before he resumed his steady pace, burning away the excess emotion that threatened to hinder his efforts. He needed to stay calm.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 16

Mon, 01 Jan 2024 00:00:00 -0600

For a fiancé to invite another woman to dinner is, by definition, scandalous.

High-society is full of these mine-fields: events or behaviors that are inherently scandalous, yet also occasionally necessary. It is for just these situations that the Listed Proprieties of High Society, vol 3 was written.

When inviting a guest of suitable age and prospects to a meal, (says Chapter 7: the intricacies of pre-wedding society) a series of letters, invitations, and announcements must be used to ensure preparation and propriety from all involved. These include: a letter of formal invitation to dine; a notation of marital status; a letter of affirmation, sent to the fiancé’s partner; a request of permission to the guest’s relatives, if any such letter is required (see footnote on page 324); a signed agreement from the guest; an announcement sent to any and all servants of the guest; an announcement sent to any and all servants of the host; and a written and signed declaration affirming any and all behaviors that will be deemed impermissible by all present, to be notarized no later than the week after said engagement. This is in addition to any and all letters, invitations, and announcements that must be used for a regular meal, such as a notification of the menu, and outline of acceptable dress.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 15

Sat, 30 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

“Hey, Oz.” Cindy waved from the steps where she sat.

Walking, I was. Clear the head. Some day later. How much? Hundred truth I don’t remember. Week, maybe. Probably. Things get fuzzy when you chant. Time, what is time? Doesn’t matter. Chant to chant and sun to moon, you keep moving.

Gone to get a new pack of smokes. Had a lighter in my pocket. Felt good, gripped in my hand. Piece of paper too, just in case. Walking down the street outside Binny’s place.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 15

Fri, 29 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund waited for a full twenty minutes in the black rain of Brackenburg before knocking on the doors of Scower Mansion. He had expected to be greeted by servants, family members, even Matron Scower herself.

Instead, he had exited his carriage to an empty drive-way, walked up the rain-soaked dirt path to the giant double-doors of Scower Mansion, and waited for someone to open them. It was an unfortunate cruelty, as it gave Edmund a long time to consider; this was his last meeting. When he returned to Moulde Hall from Scower Mansion, the other eight Founding Families of Brackenburg would recognize him as the Patron of the Moulde Family. Not officially — that had been accomplished with a few signatures — but personally.

After twenty minutes, Edmund decided that knocking was his only course of action. As detailed in The Art of Savoir Faire, by Lady Yistemyr, knocking on the front door of your host’s house is a grave insult, as it suggests they do not know how to properly greet a guest. At the same time, to keep an expectant host waiting is an equal, if not greater transgression, and so Edmund decided, on balance, that he would rather be inside than outside.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 14

Wed, 27 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

It is an established fact that when it came to the salvation of the Moulde Family from the shame of history, Edmund Moulde had a plan.

The particulars of Edmund’s plan are, unfortunately, unknown to scholars and historians of our era. This is partially because, as will eventually be made clear, there are several theories as to what his ultimate plan was.

The Model Assembly theory states that Edmund created his plan in pieces, each a separate cog or spring that could be added or removed as his scheme progressed. If Kolb had never ranted and raved during the Brocklehurst Debut ball, Edmund would have found some other way to place Kolb in South Dunkin. Or perhaps he would have built his factory elsewhere, with a different surrogate that suited his purpose.

The In Totus theory posits that everything, from Edmund’s arranging his marriage all the way to the day of the nuptials, had been conceived by Edmund at age eight, underneath Haggard Hill with Orpha Moulde’s skull clutched in his hands. An entire wing of the Brackenburg Historical Society is devoted to the ramifications of European history if this is true.

The Order of Rubbed Sage continues to hold a biannual meeting in secret, devoted to the study and sharing of reputation ruining research hinging on the idea that Edmund’s plan had, in fact, failed.

While the truth of Edmund’s plans may never be known for certain, it is important to note that there were a great many obstacles along the path that he could not have anticipated.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 13

Mon, 25 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

In the timeline of events surrounding Edmund’s marriage, there are several chronological holes. While several events are known to have happened, either through contemporary record or logical deduction, it is not known precisely when they occurred. One such event is the scandalous and complicating arrival of Nausica Brocklehurst at Moulde Hall.

It is assumed, not without evidence, that Edmund was working in his study when there was a knock on the door.

Googoltha never knocks, Edmund’s brain spun into action. Ung only knocks if he thinks I’m hard at work, but he’s spent all his time in the garden recently. Mrs. Kippling always knocks, because she thinks it’s proper behavior. Enga…she only knocks if she thinks I need time to prepare for unexpected news…

After a long enough pause to collect his thoughts and prepare for a coming crisis, Edmund stood from his desk. “Enter.”

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 14

Sat, 23 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Week later. Two weeks. We chant. We all show, ‘cuz we’re a circle.

Darla dresses to the nines for it. I laugh at her, it’s only Cindy. She sticks out her sexy tongue at me. I imagine my lips wrapped around it.

Go to the digs. Door opens and I flop on the couch. Darla reclines, as always, letting silky silk fold and slip up her leg. Dressed to nines, but no care. Sexy that. Binny is sitting there in his cloud, Leon on the floor, facing the ceiling like it’s painted.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 12

Fri, 22 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

It is a failure of imagination to assume that all criminals are poor. While it makes a crude sense — why be a criminal if you don’t need the money? — it fails to account for the fact that any criminal worth their shackles will not remain poor for very long.

It is therefore far more logical to assume that the majority of criminals are rich; indeed, their criminal enterprises were undoubtedly what provided their fortune.

This perfectly rational state-of-affairs means, inevitably, that whenever there is profit to be made, there is value to be stolen. With these opportunities, the rich criminals of society will pay — often handsomely — to steal even more wealth out from under another person’s nose.

In the entrepreneurial spirit of the age, wealth came in many forms. The invention of futures markets meant that knowledge had become as profitable as gold, and oftentimes more so. Legal Proof of Ownership was as valuable as the asset itself, and anything that could be owned could be sold, coveted, and eventually stolen.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 11

Wed, 20 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The next morning, Edmund sat in the large dining room for breakfast, a poorly cooked egg floating in weak broth. The stale bread that was a staple of Moulde Hall cuisine had been burnt on one side, and then — in a display of Mrs. Kippling’s insistence on getting it right — burnt slightly more on the other.

Even considering the blandness of the meal, Edmund didn’t taste a thing. He was too busy staring at the paper in his hand, too preoccupied with the implications of what he had written in his sleep to bother with simple things like flavor.

It was rare in Edmund’s life that there were no options. He was an educated man, both from university and from the War, and he had learned quite quickly that there were few situations in life that did not have at least three possible paths ahead. Edmund stared at the page he had written in his sleep. He had been very clear. This time, there were no options.

Scandal.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 10

Mon, 18 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Bockabell Mansion was the seventh of eight homes owned by the Cromley’s in Brackenburg. Built in 1861, it was the height of modern fashion at the time, and was well known among the Nine Founding Families as one of the more scandalous and inappropriate expressions of architecture in all of Brackenburg.

“We are thinking of dismantling it,” Matron Dryshire Cromley mused, gesturing with a cigarette held in an elegantly manicured hand. “All of France is agog with this new ‘arts décoratifs’ style. I know the Founding Families are dreadfully upset with our efforts, but we feel it is important to keep up with the times.” She took a puff of smoke. “Now that my mother is gone, we actually might be able to.”

Edmund gave a small nod. “I must apologize for not attending Matron Hagetha Cromley’s wake.”

“Of course,” the new Matron Cromley sighed. “I too have to apologize for not attending Matron’s wake.”

Of course, both of them had perfectly good reasons for not attending the wakes — Edmund wasn’t about to pause his education just to come back for a Cromley, even the one who had signed as a witness for Edmund’s arranged marraige, and Dryshire wasn’t going to show up to any Moulde’s wake until she was certain she was well and truly dead — but, they both needed to keep up appearances, and that meant a personal apology, in addition to the ones already given in writting.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 13

Sat, 16 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

When my sizzle is done, I climb right back into the kitchen off the escape. Stick half finished, pocket for later. Grab a drink of water on the way, dry mouth, no pop. No clean glass. No dirty glass. Use my hands and slurp like thirsty.

Walk into the room. Kid’s gone, everyone else sitting around, looking at the ceiling.

They’re all silent. Not moving. Not speaking. Rude.

I look up. Nothing there. Cracks and plaster. Nothing.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 9

Fri, 15 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

A church can mean many things to many people. In the quiet rural and uncrowded towns, a church can be a place for gathering and fellowship. For the bustling cities, a church can be a place of quiet, to get away from the same clusters of humanity that fill the streets. With the right preacher, a church can be a place to find guidance and moral clarity among the complicated and confusing customs of the time. With the right parishioners, a church can be sanctuary and succor for the poor and unfortunate.

Cathedrals have no such flexibility. There are no friendly vicars who dismissively wave their hands at the mud on your boots. No smiling monks who are willing to roll up their robes to help birth a calf, or thatch a roof. A cathedral is a shrine writ large; a divine embassy on mortal land. When you step across a cathedral’s threshold, you are stepping into a world where your mortal concerns are secondary. You are not a believer in a cathedral, nor parishioner, nor penitent. You are a guest.

The Brackenburg Cathedral and Metropolitical Church of God was a well built cathedral.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 8

Wed, 13 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Not half an hour after Wislydale left, Edmund made his way down the Moulde Hall elevator to the abandoned coal mine deep under Haggard Hill.

It had been almost seven years since Edmund had crawled through the tunnels under Moulde Hall. When he was eight, his cousin Pinsnip Sadwick had locked him away in the tunnels to starve; vengeance for Pinsnip’s failure to claim the fortune of the Moulde Family for himself.

But that was only his first foray into the depths. When he was older, and not under immediate threat for his life, (At least, not by entombment.) he spent a good length of time learning their twists and turns, and returning periodically to the tombs of the Moulde Family.

Now, he had a destination. With a speed born of curiosity, it took only a quarter hour for Edmund to climb his way through the empty tunnels. Turning left and right, he made his way through the mines to the place on the survey map where the tombs and the iron vein were closest.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 7

Mon, 11 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

As has been repeated consistently, there is very little that we have of real factual record regarding Sir Edmund Moulde, the majority of his personal writings having been destroyed in the Great Brackenburg Fire.

There is, however, one exception.

Most everything we know about Sir Edmund Moulde and his ways of thinking comes entirely from a single surviving diary. Called by historians the Sir Edmund Codex, the entire journal was saved mostly unscathed from the ashes of Moulde Hall, the only damage being a blackened cover.

It is from this single diary that the majority of theories regarding Sir Edmund and his life have arisen. Indeed, there are several years of Edmund’s life that would be complete mysteries if not for the few pages or tangential references discovered in this journal.

What follows is an excerpt from this diary, dated the 28th of March, 1881, the day of Matron’s wake:

Dear diary,

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 12

Sat, 09 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Week later? Two weeks? Don’t remember. New Kid walked into my room like tentative. Cagey. Nerves all tingling. “Hi.”

Cindy gave him the up-and-down and pointed at Binny. Sage was sitting there, eyes closed, smoke to the top. Leon wasn’t watching, the nut. Should have been, but didn’t. I brought the kid, least he could do would be to pay attention.

Kid walked up to Binny, held out a hand. Binny kept his eyes shut. Took a slow breath, like wise old frog. “You new in town?”

“Ain’t seen you before,” Ribber giggles. “You hiding from us?”

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 6

Fri, 08 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The Wake of Matron Mander Moulde, held on the 28th of March, 1881, was, in a word, awkward.

There were multiple reasons for this, each enumerated and detailed in large numbers of historical and heraldic texts. While it would be prohibitive to explain at length here, with entire chapters devoted to the food and drink, it is simple enough to say that emotions were mixed.

This is often the case when dealing with the death of someone important, and there was no one of more importance than the Founding Families. Matron was, after all, a fellow peer. In spite of the distressing behavior of the Moulde Family, coupled with their steady descent from grace, she was still due the same honors given to every head that died of natural causes: a solemn wake filled with a lingering sense that they had beat the odds.

At the same time, there were few among the guests who did not feel the world was better for having one less Moulde in it. Matron’s cutting tongue and razor-sharp mind had not won her many friends among the nobility of England, and her knack for foiling schemes of grand design seemingly by accident was uncanny.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 5

Wed, 06 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The next day of importance for Edmund Moulde is well known to all students of Sir Edmund’s life: the 23rd of March, 1881.

This day was, in fact, only two days after his journey to Tendous Grange and five days before Matron’s wake. It is a notable day primarily because of three singular events which occurred.

The first event was that Edmund woke up from a fitful and restless sleep to find the paper he had placed under his hand during the night had been written on.

The fact that he had written in his sleep had been surprising and delightful enough. It had been almost a month since he had returned from the War, and Edmund had begun to worry that he would never write in his sleep again; that he would be forever more alone with his waking thoughts. His relief was subdued by the second realization that came from reading the scribbled words; Edmund was about to be married.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 4

Mon, 04 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The little man gave no greeting, nor gave Edmund much consideration when he entered. Instead, he simply opened his ubiquitous briefcase and pulled out an entire ream of paper.

Edmund needed no prompting; he sat down, pulled one of his pens from his vest pocket, and began to sign as fast as he could. He did this primarily because of the size of the stack and a quick bit of mental mathematics; if Edmund had paused to read every paper before he signed, it would have taken days before he had gotten through them all.

Luckily, the War had trained Edmund well, and he had become quite practiced at reading quickly. He had also learned the benefits of a leisurely and elaborate signature, and as such, he was able to get a solid idea of what he had started signing before he finished signing it.

After an hour, Edmund paused to stretch his hand before resuming signing his name as regularly as any clock.

There were affidavits, affirmations, demands for legitimacy, and a few papers that appeared to be heavily veiled threats to governing officials. Formal denials of breaking the law, informal declarations of financial holdings, Legal acceptance of liability, refusal to name co-conspirators, acceptance of any profits while denying any losses…every t crossed and every i dotted. All of them had copies; Sometimes two, sometimes five.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 11

Sat, 02 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Head held high as I walk back, swinging free. Old Oz, what a wiz. Pluck a Skip from the ditch-water and watch them fly.

Catch Leon on the way. Walking like a boss, running like. Thinks he’s got somewhere to be, but doesn’t know Ozzie’s news. Going to flip, I think. Like over heels.

“Oz,” he shouts at me, like I haven’t seen him. The nut, he’s walking right at me. “Oz, come on!”

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 3

Fri, 01 Dec 2023 00:00:00 -0600

It has often been speculated what occupied Sir Edmund during the time spanning his arrival at Moulde Hall and Tricknee’s return. There are no surviving letters or records of his activities, and therefore the fanciful and exotic opinions of any number of besotted poets and educators fill music halls and taverns, even today.

One thing is known, thanks to a single letter written by Lady Lambly Chopshire II, which contains an off-hand comment to her cousin that the windows in Moulde Hall remained uncharacteristically dark long into the hours of the night. This letter, being from a lady of property, is far more respected as a source than the folk-tales that say the gas-lights of Moulde Hall burned brightly in the windows for a full week. Folk stories are, after all, notoriously common.

Another thing that is known for certain is that the man who called early in the morning the following day was not Tricknee Rotledge.

When Enga explained the visitor was not his distant relative, Edmund sorted through every possibility in his head as to who could be calling on him so early in the morning, only two days after Matron’s death. He recounted later in one of his few surviving diaries that he was ashamed at his surprise when he discovered who it was.

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 2

Wed, 29 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

It was the next morning. Edmund was certain of it. He had slept, he was positive of that too. Not because he had dreamed; he hadn’t dreamed once in his whole life. He had, however, learned to recognize the clues, such as stretches of time that he did not remember or the sudden arrival of sunlight through his windows.

Nevertheless, he did not feel rested nor prepared for a new day. He hadn’t slept in his bed for over five years. It was frighteningly familiar, even after so long a time. The sunlight struggling through the black cloud of smog that hung over Brackenburg felt different on his skin.

He knew time had passed, but he couldn’t feel the difference. Now, he was awake and staring at the blank piece of paper in his hand.

He had written it — or rather, not written it — during the night. His routine of sleeping with pen and paper in hand had produced nothing. Not a word, not a letter, not even a strange cryptic sketch for him to puzzle over until he deciphered what his slumbering mind was telling him.

First he had lost his poetry, then his nightly writings…was he even Edmund anymore?

The Last Days of Yesteryear: Chapter 1

Mon, 27 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund was an orphan from birth, as was fashionable at the time.

For centuries, the upper classes had been enamored with Blood. Lineages were tracked from the present day back thousands of years, through kings, queens, and prostitutes, creating macabre nets of sex and death. Marriages, affairs, and old midwives running through darkened forests with illegitimate heirs in their arms were marked like game sightings in books passed down from generation to generation with more reverence than any holy text. It was as good a way as any of keeping score.

To be an adopted orphan was to circumvent this web entirely.

Now, with Edmund at a ripe old age of eighteen, the pendulum had swung the other way. After years of obsession over heraldry, ancestry, and exactly what shade of blue your blood was, the mystery of not knowing one’s parentage was intriguing; and while money and power held their own fascinations, what was far more important to the perpetually ennuied upper-classes at the time was intrigue.

Bit by bit, the gentry were becoming more accepting of variety. After all, some of their most amusing peers had some embarrassment or other in their family tree. The Landed Classes could handle being common, they couldn’t handle being boring.

The traditional diversion had been war, but the Great War had spoiled all that — it wasn’t as much fun to send young men and women into battle when they came home again, broken in body and spirit — so, the landed gentry began searching for other amusements. Impropriety, once feared and criminalized in the lower classes, became lauded as fascinating eccentricity. Madhouses changed from prisons to safaris. The brutal and cruel were applauded for their creativity. Shock begat awe, and the malaise of the upper-class eroded away once more.

It was an interesting time to be alive, so of course Matron had died.

From Harmingsdown to Yesteryear

Sun, 26 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The third book of the Edmund Moulde quadrilogy was fun to write. I enjoyed coming up with all the little world-creative details, creating a world that was as much about fun little things as it was about people. All in all, while I can’t seem to ever allow myself a sense of satisfaction with my work, I can at least nowadays see some virtue in it.

But all good things must come to an end, and so on Monday I will begin posting my final book in the Edmund Quadrilogy: The Last Days of Yesteryear.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 10

Sat, 25 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Old Ozzie never Dust.

Dust.

Dust is like…

Dusted. Settling. Drifting down, and when it touches, it’s dead.

We’re all dust in sunbeams, floating drifting caught on drafts. River currents carrying us along. Alive as long as we’re in the air.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 18

Fri, 24 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund threw himself into the closest chair, and then immediately stood up again. He couldn’t sit. He couldn’t stand. He couldn’t pace. His mind was afire with consternation.

On impulse learned from his time in the trenches, Edmund glanced around the room for a drinks cabinet.

He had been asked to retire to the nearby General’s Lounge to await the Tribunal’s final verdict. Being a place for the upper-class to sit and chat, the absence of any liquor cabinet would be out of character, to say the least. He didn’t particularly care for the taste of alcohol, but he heard that it could ‘steady one’s nerves,’ and was a quite useful prop for looking nonchalant.

Edmund poured himself a glass of gin, and sipped it.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 17

Wed, 22 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Nothing happens quickly in the military.

In the olden days, word of peace spread like molasses. When word of peace arrived in one town, time was spent celebrating and reveling, sometimes long into the night, before someone remembered they needed to send the message on. Sometimes, whole years would pass between a treaty’s signing and the last arrow loosed.

Eventually, official messengers were assigned the mission to convey the message of peace to pertinent officials. This worked only marginally better, as the messengers often times stuck around for a nip or two, just to keep the chill evening wind out, and ended up staying the night, drunk off their horse.

When newspapers were invented, word passed faster still. The Telegraph made communication almost instantaneous, but even then there were delays as Generals had just one more cigar, a glass for the road, or played one final hand before turning off the lights.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 16

Mon, 20 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

“Singing?”

“And playing games,” Edmund nodded, with perhaps more pride in his voice than he intended. He hadn’t expected it to work out so well. “Even the guards have unlocked the cells and allowed enemy prisoners to return.”

“Our prisoners?”

“And theirs. Everyone.”

Schtillhart opened her mouth, and then closed it. “Are you telling me, Lieutenant, that not one week after I was made an Acting Colonel and given command over the trenches at Harmingsdown, that my men have stopped fighting and are now singing and playing games with the enemy?”

“Sharing meals, too. I believe their chef was given a surplus of grape-leaves that needed eating.”

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 9

Sat, 18 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

One day, sitting on the steps, coming down from a sizzle when Cindy stands there, leaning on the rusty fence like nothing important.

I blink her eyes back into her head. Looking at me with no red-shot eyes. No teeth. All good. Sizzle just a hiss in the back. Nothing bad.

“Hey,” she says, like nothing important. Me, I nod, because Ozzie’s polite. Wearing the girl’s jacket, like they swap. Must be serious, I think. Cindy, she just looks, and says, “Gotta favor to ask.”

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 15

Fri, 17 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Edmund stepped out into the morning light.

Was it portentous, the fact that the sun shone brightly on the brown mud of Harmingsdown for the first time in weeks, or that the piercing reflection of the white snow hurt Edmund’s eyes, forcing him to squint? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he had a plan, and he wasn’t sure it would work.

This was a new and frightening situation for Edmund to be in. After all, his entire life had been spent in the meticulous crafting of detailed plots that blossomed to fruition with only the smallest amount of uncertainty. As Matron had told him before: What use was a plan that had the potential for failure?

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 14

Wed, 15 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The loss of Pinsnip was of significant concern to Edmund, but not as immediate. The far more timely issue was stopping the Wickes from implementing their Tactical Gasses.

There were multiple ways Edmund could have done this, but his brush with the assassin had unnerved him. He needed to rebalance his humors, if not resettle his stomach, and so he opted for taking a personal hand in the sabotage.

The barn in which the Wickes Laboratory was situated was old, but sturdily built. Archaeological studies performed after the war’s end — when the importance of Harmingsdown’s role in its ending was established — place the building of the farmhouse and barn sometime after the Roman invasion of Britannia. The wooden walls were weather-hardened to the point that they were as hard as iron. The winds had blasted the walls as smooth as glass, ensuring a very difficult time for any spies who thought the front door would be too conspicuous an entry point.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 13

Mon, 13 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

A week passed.

There is no doubt that a great amount of important things occurred during this week, but little regarding Edmund’s plans for how to stop the Wickes. His major obstacle was that he didn’t know what they were trying to do.

Lacking this most basic mooring, Edmund’s nights were filled with discord. Every morning, his nocturnal notes brought a new cluster of diagrams, dissertations, and plans that covered each facet of Harmingsdown, Brackenburg, and the entirety of the Great War. He was ready for anything. Once he knew their plans, with the right application of force he could set in motion a series of events that would foil the Wickes for good.

But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t see their greater goal. They continued to invent new machines, improved weapons, and deadlier tools that were steadily countered by the Spanish Inventor…whomever they were.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 8

Sat, 11 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

We come back from the show. Good show. Fall asleep. Darkness dreaming without. Within. No pleasure no pain. Empty void full of Ozzie.

Next morning. Hurts. Dry. Always a pain, the next morning.

Open eyes, see blurs, blink it back into shape.

Never know where you are at first. Everything settles on you in a different place. Still dressed from last night. No sheet. Mattress. Someone next to me. Darla, most like.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 12

Fri, 10 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

The Battle of the Ironclads is one of the most famous events in the entirety of the Great War, second only to the Harmingsdown Truce, which came months afterwards. Indeed, even students of no fixed subject are aware of the Ironclads, the T-1 “Chesteron” on the British side, and the M-S5 “Rojoja” on the Spanish.

A reconstruction of the T-1 is currently on display at the Ninnenburg Museum of Natural Warfare, differing from the original only in the type of rubber on the pedirail feet and in the length of its cannon; a full three inches shorter. The M-S5 became the foundation for later models, such as the M-S6 and the M-S8. While no official reconstruction exists, copies of the original blueprints are readily available for perusal at almost any Spanish engineering school.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 11

Wed, 08 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Historians and scholars, take note; this was not the first appearance of what later became known as a trench-crawler. A prototype trench-crawler first entered service in the Spanish army during the Battle of South Waterdyer, resulting in the deaths of seven soldiers and the operators within, after the machine exploded. That battle is not commonly known of, and while much debate is possible in regards to whether the effectiveness of this trench-crawler was overstated, no one can deny the simple chronology of the war: The Battle of South Waterdyer had occurred only half a week ago, word had not yet spread to the far end of the front where Harmingsdown lay, and no one present had seen or even heard of the monstrous device that was now barreling over the trenches like a mad rhino.

“Bring it down!” Colonel Muggeridge shouted over the fray. “You, get on the telegraph and tell HQ what’s happening. The rest of you men, charge ahead! Put your backs into it! We’ll show that metal blighter what-for!”

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 10

Mon, 06 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0600

“It’s quite short.”

Edmund had not expected much more from Colonel Muggeridge. He had not struck Edmund as a particularly curious or attentive officer, instead as more of a Colonel. In addition, the Colonel was not new to war. He knew what worked, and therefore mistrusted anything unfamiliar.

He wasn’t a complete fool, however. He knew he was not a genius, and the two recently commissioned Colonels were, so when they brought out their first invention since arriving at Harmingsdown, he knew it had to be a remarkable and revolutionary invention.

This resulted in the Colonel staring in silence at the rifle for over five minutes — along with the small cluster of other officers he had brought along to the Wickes demonstration — in hopes of discerning what made this rifle different than the standard issue bolt-action rifles his men were already supplied with.

In the end, he had noticed that the rifle in question was a good two feet shorter in the shaft.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 7

Sat, 04 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0500

So damn thirsty, need a sip, nothing but tap water. Brown, let it run. Hiss like. Dizzy, but smooth. Just let it run, get all the dust out. Rust out. Dusty rusty.

Time for a show. Show a show a shoe dancing on concrete. JJ POP gone, we all stand up. Time to go show the show go to time.

Always a good show at the Square. Real dancing, real drums, like native. Jump up and down until your brain is free falling. Pass around the pills, the tabs, the sticks and the sauce, and sizzle til dawn. Forget your cares, and just make some noise. Everyone loves the Square. Safe club. Famous like. So many people know it, even the posers know it. Dangerous, that. Get a poser who thinks they know the chant. Gotta keep an eye out.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 9

Fri, 03 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0500

There was no train to Harmingsdown. Being a small farming village on the southern end of the country, there had never been enough call for transport to such a distant pastoral town. Without industry, fortune, or noblesse oblige as a draw, Harmingsdown had stayed a quiet and sleepy village for the better part of a century.

Then, due to a remarkably unfortunate series of historical events, the Spanish army had established themselves in the southern part of England. Quite inadvertently, Harmingsdown had become The Front. This meant the once pastoral village needed troops, supplies, equipment, and a great deal of other sundry items. Harmingsdown was not alone in this; any number of heretofore useless and ignored territories were suddenly vitally important to the war, and required a quick method for logistical support.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 8

Wed, 01 Nov 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Had Edmund made a mistake?

The thought crossed his mind only once in the span of time between sitting outside the Brigadier’s office and the signing ceremony, and the answer was quick in coming. No, he had not made any mistakes. He simply couldn’t afford to.

Edmund didn’t wait for Brother Bromard to leave again. He didn’t wait for Brigadier McNaymare to file an official command. He didn’t even wait for Major Schtillhart to step outside and demand to know why Edmund was sitting around and wasting time.

He was wasting time. He needed to get back to Filing Room B to prepare.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 7

Mon, 30 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund was a Moulde, and that meant he was not one to allow small obstacles stand in the way of what needed to be done; so it should come as no surprise that, after the lamp-lighters had all gone about their business bathing the night-darkened streets of Brackenburg with an jaundiced glow from the street lamps, Edmund left Filing Room B and walked out into the darkness, as casual as any gentleman out for a nightly stroll.

Subterfuge and legerdemain were reliable tools in the Moulde bag-of-tricks, and it felt good to dart from shadow to shadow again.

It is a common trait among humans that when they wish to divert attention, they always point in the opposite direction of what they are hiding. This makes it quite simple to find anything one wishes to hide; simply look in the exact opposite place someone expects you to look.

As a ABC clerk, Edmund received Schtillhart’s likely false administrative filing, submitting one (1) sample of Chrome, 4cm, 8.5 grams, to be stored in the Flitwork street warehouse. For reasons far too complex to explain, after reading this file Edmund was certain Schtillhart had hidden the sample of Chrome in the Illingsbeak street warehouse.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 6

Sat, 28 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Kyle didn’t chant for Wellen. I got better. Doing well now. Kyle got mad. Left then.

Could have stayed. Could have waited til I knew the rocks, but gotta jump feet first. All hop like. Down the gutter goes, sluce. Swinging free. Could have been lost. Dangerous, like. No one know old Oz then, look over him like a heap o’ trash.

Didn’t have time. No rest. No sleep. Gotta find a rock. Gotta keep moving. You stay, you dust. Left Kyle’s circle that night.

Took weeks. I talked. I listened. I heard about Horse, who was a real rock. I heard about Linds, who was real nice, likable, soft and gentle. Not a real rock, but didn’t let no one stray. Like a sheepdog. Heard about all the rocks in Upper West, but Binny’s digs were only a street away from where I was, so I head over to the street corner where they say he hung out.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 6

Fri, 27 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

It took Edmund almost the entire rest of the day to sort out what he needed to do next.

Edmund did not think slowly; rather, when he put all his efforts into plotting and planning, he thought about so many things at once that it merely appeared that he thought slowly. This is akin to how a train powerful enough to carry a hundred cars full of diamonds may move slower than a rather small dog pulling a roller skate.

Edmund’s plan, such as it was, had not fundamentally changed. In traveling to Princebridge, he had hoped to ascertain whether the inventor of Chrome was someone he could work with, or someone he had to circumvent. The fact that the inventors were the Wickes did not make the answer obsolete, merely obvious.

It was almost six in the afternoon by the time Edmund had finished typing out his report to the Brigadier and made his way up the stairs to McNaymare’s office.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 5

Wed, 25 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

At first, Edmund was not certain precisely why he volunteered to travel to Princebridge, but by the time he had finished arranging his travel itinerary, he had rationalized his behavior quite easily.

First of all was his curiosity. What was this new metal? How was it made? How exactly was it better than steel? Where had it been invented? Who had done so? Why had its existance not been known in the scientific community? If Edmund could find a piece of it, could he reverse engineer it, and make it even better? Could he, in fact, salvage his threatened plan?

In fact, a part of Edmund felt a quiet pride. Whomever had invented Chrome had lucked into the ready-prepared setup that Edmund had originally created for himself. Without his efforts, the rumors of superior-steel would have remained just that. The intractable tradition of the military would have carried on, rationing would have eventually been implemented, and the war would have continued. After all, everything was going according to plan. The only error Edmund had made was in assuming he was the only person who saw opportunity in war.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 4

Mon, 23 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

However, it was not immediately wrong.

Scholars hypothesize that Edmund had a good three months of perfect invisibility before anything hindered his plans. For three months, Edmund did precisely what he was best at: he stayed unobtrusive, he did his job with unassuming skill, and he manipulated world events with a deft and subtle hand.

In his spare time, Edmund studied the Military. He found it fascinating.

It speaks much to Edmund’s character that one of the primary things he found interesting was the boredom. After Edmund’s first day as an ABC clerk, the next day passed much the same as the first, as did the next day, and the next. Military routine is a redundant term.

Tension, Edmund realized, degraded naturally. Pull a string taught and eventually the fibers will lengthen until they are able to be at rest while still being pulled. More force must be applied until the desired tension is reached again. He had needed to do this to Aoide’s strings many times.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 5

Sat, 21 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

That was my circle. Binny, Darla, Leon, Ribber, Cindy, Me, and JJ. Circles are the families you make. We see the system for what it is, and the system hates us. Circles protect you. Strengthen you. They make you strong. If you don’t have a circle, you’re alonely. On your own. One voice shouting in the darkness, echoes of your own voice in the static.

Many voices together, all chanting the same. That’s real power. A hundred hands on the hammer. Without a circle, you horde. You keep. You don’t share. Dark magic. Being alonely is selfish, really. Some people deserve it, but most don’t. Without a circle, you’re not a part of the chant. Not like you could be.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 3

Fri, 20 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The Moulde Family carriage, jet black and topped with black plumed feathers, wound its way out of the Squatling district thorough the smog-roofed streets of Brackenburg towards City Hall, temporary home of the Board of Generals among several other official war offices. It was also one of several recruitment stations in the city.

The carriage was slowed to an unsteady crawl as they neared the City Hall. The streets of Brackenburg were filled with citizenry, far more than Edmund had ever seen. Granted, he could count the number of times he had gone into Brackenburg on one hand, but while the streets had been busy on those previous occasions, movement had been possible. Now, the carriage hobbled through the throngs as young men and women teamed like a rolling ocean.

Edmund’s nose pressed to the glass window as he scanned the sea of laborer’s caps, servant’s bonnets, and the rare silk bowler or top hat to mark the magnanimous few who were there by duty or choice, rather than necessity. Here and there in the throngs, men and women with large bull-horns shouted beneath the flag of Britannia, decrying the latest crime the Spanish people had wrought on the land. Cheers and fists were thrown into the air with every patriotic proclamation.

Edmund watched and learned.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 2

Wed, 18 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Outside the door, the man in the white coat was waiting.

“Hallo, Master Edmund,” he stepped forward, hand held out in front of him to shake. “A pleasure to finally meet you, really, a pleasure. I have read so much about you.”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he shook the doctor’s hand.

“Of course, forgive me,” the man blushed and gave an awkward bow. “Doctor Leginald Hamfish, physician and phlebotomist. I’m the head of Advanced Medical Practices at the Lady of Infinite Jest.”

Edmund nodded. The Lady of Infinite Jest was one of the Moulde’s better renowned hospitals, capable of serving the majority of extreme cases in Brackenburg while maintaining a respectable rate of legal conflict and perfectly reasonable numbers of skeletons in the closet.

The Battle of Harmingsdown: Chapter 1

Mon, 16 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund was an orphan from birth, as was fashionable at the time.

Sir Limmingsbald Wonthorpe III, noted writer of the age, wrote a dissertation on the rise of the pennies dreadful, the pulps, and the un-noteables. He documented the professional language of pen-pushers and ink-sots, who were desperate to wring the price of another evening’s spirits out of the downtrodden and destitute. He ascertained the pinnacle of their craft, and called it the Hero Delusion.

“Someone will come to save us all,” the pulps proclaimed. “The horrors of the world are beyond our ken, and new sciences and technologies give us only more mysteries to face. Only someone as mysterious as these new challenges, someone from the same world of intrigue, could possibly hold the answers to all of life’s threats.”

After Sir Wonthorpe’s subsequent dismissal from the Calligraphic Institute of Cliffside, his theories and musings over this depressing sentiment in society were forgotten by everyone.

By everyone, that is, except for Edmund Moulde.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 4

Sat, 14 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The Chant. The Chant. The Chant.

Chant freed me. Chant showed me the real world. Chant sang to me. Chant carried me. Chant gave me everything. Chant brought me home. Chant gave me home. Chant was life. Chant was real. Chant was clear and crisp in a world of fuzzy moldy brown. Chant helped me talk. Chant gave me a direction, and that direction was every direction. Chant gave me the world. Chant opened doors. Chant closed windows. Chant tore down the curtains. Chant gave me me. Gave me them. Gave me. Gave.

Chant is everything.

A Grimm Farewell

Fri, 13 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

And with that, we finish the second book of the Edmund Moulde Quadrilogy. On Monday, I will start posting the third book: Edmund Moulde and the Battle of Harmingsdown.

Among other things, Edmund’s story has always been about transition, either from orphan to heir, from shame to pride, or from peace to war. From a Meta persepctive, I myself was always interested about what the transition from Steampunk to Dieselpunk might look like. From there, it was a simple hop to an alternate World War I.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 20

Wed, 11 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Dear diary, Edmund wrote…

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 19

Mon, 09 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

“Yes,” Lady Tinbottom frowned. “I cannot say it surprises me. Lord Dashington was always very…open, with his boudoir.”

“He hid it from everyone,” Edmund continued, sipping his tea, “by killing anyone he had slept with.”

“How shocking,” Lady Tinbottom closed her fan. “I hope this hasn’t reached the papers yet?”

“No,” Edmund set down his tea. “You are the first person we’ve told.”

“We?”

“Me and the Raven Ressurectionist.”

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 3

Sat, 07 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Darla had a shit family in the subs. Hated them, trying to make her like things she didn’t like. Told her who and how to be, like everyone does. Forced her into college. Didn’t like the culture, she said. Full of people trying to change themselves, weren’t happy with who they were. Try on different kinds of people like different clothes. Made her feel bad. Stupid. Not good enough. Decided to leave.

Has a room of her own. Tiny. Good to stay, though. No flop nor couch for Old Oz, long as Darla’s his squeeze. She still has green, still has glitter. Took it from her mother’s box, she said. Sells it for cash when she needs it. Doesn’t always need it. My Darling Darla, she’s got fingers. Takes books from the library. She knows how to take back what’s been taken. Mall’s a good spot. We all spend a lot of time there, watching the dusted shamble by like zombies.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 18

Fri, 06 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Little is known about what exactly happened during the time that Edmund spent with Victrola and Professor Whiskfield. The only available evidence comes from two sources: the events that occurred afterwards, and a small note in the margins of one of Edmund’s surviving notebooks:

I have done it! After much study, experimentation, and inspiration, I have concluded that it is possible to perform a post-encardiocephelographic revivification on a corpse of indeterminate duration of death, by adjusting a few ingredients and procedures involved in the creation of my ancestor’s Mechanus Vitae.

I have discovered a truly marvelous recipe for this, which this margin is too narrow to contain.

Scholars and medical professionals have struggled for years to discern exactly what this recipe is, to no avail. Many have used this lack of success to posit that Edmund was a bit of a prankster at this young age, while others suggest that, at its simplest, Edmund decided it was safer that no one knew the recipe apart from himself.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 17

Wed, 04 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund barely noticed the city of Mothburn as he walked towards Grimm’s, his fevered brain churning like a machine. He didn’t even notice the distant clock-tower ringing half past seven-o-clock in the evening.

He did not duck and hide, as was his usual wont, but carved a path through Mothburn as straight as an arrow. Perhaps it was not the wisest course of action, nor the most prudent, but Edmund was not concerned with such matters at the moment. He was far more concerned about a single task that simmered in his mind, growing stronger with every passing second.

Madness, as a subject, has been studied to varying degrees of precision throughout the ages. Grimm’s School for the Erratically Gifted was established, in fact, as a means to both examine and focus the creative energies of the more erratic and uncontrollable members of the gentry.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 16

Mon, 02 Oct 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Jail — among the many other horrors it bestows on its victims in an effort to punish, rehabilitate, or segregate — is the perfect place to think. Edmund became acutely aware of this fact remarkably quickly, if for no other reason than he had nothing else to do.

In an odd way, it was strangely liberating: he had no school-work, could not attend classes, and was free from needing to read or write letters to his landed kin. He couldn’t leave to see Leeta, couldn’t explore, couldn’t do anything. He was free only to think, unfettered by societal obligation.

In a far more practical, fitting, and accurate way, it was everything Edmund had ever feared come true.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 2

Sat, 30 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Met Darla because of the chant.

Didn’t chant for her, no no. Never chant for Darla, truth. I swear truth. Darla’s special.

About a year ago. Knew it would be her, the moment I saw her. That’s part of it, knowing without knowing. Seeing and feeling and your gut driving your limbs, robot like. Didn’t think about it, thinking just confuses your gut. Our brains shout it all down. Sizzle the brain and your gut takes over. Shows you truth.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 15

Fri, 29 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Many consider the Great War to be Edmund’s first experience with subterfuge and espionage, specifically the events surrounding the Battle at Harmingsdown. Many consider incorrectly.

Edmund was amazed at how normal it all was. In fact, all of proper society was structured around hiding one’s true feelings and motives. The only difference now was how many things Edmund was hiding.

The first thing Edmund was keeping from his fellow Teapots was who had invited them to Lady Tinbottom’s Villa. This is quite normal and proper; those who had important social business often hid their faces behind an amiable host or hostess. Indeed, if anyone knew Edmund had asked Lady Tinbottom to assemble the Coterie, they would have been curious rather than scandalized.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 14

Wed, 27 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Leeta and Fairly were reluctant to follow Edmund. Leeta was still weak from her beating, and Fairly didn’t seem inclined to go anywhere Leeta wasn’t. Nevertheless, when Edmund could finally catch his breath and explain what he had found in the dark alley, they both leapt off the sarcophagus where they had been lying and followed him up the steps and out into the streets of Mothburn, Leeta leaning on Fairly the whole way.

When they reached the body, the three of them crouched around it like vultures.

Leeta was in constant motion, though hindered by her bandaged knee and stiff muscles. With a slow and steady pace, she circumnavigated the cadaver, scratching notes on a bound quire she had pulled out of her pocket. She poked the skin, lifted the limbs, and sniffed gently at various parts of the body, making a note each time that she did.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 13

Mon, 25 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

When Fairly Carver opened his door, his face was already set into a harsh frown. “Bloody hell, it’s late, isn’t it.” His irritated face peered at Edmund. “Got nothing better to do than go around and ruin other people’s sleep, do you?”

“I need your help,” Edmund admitted. “Again.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Fairly yawned. “Going to try and blackmail me again, are you? Well, I don’t very well give a toss, do I. You can push off, can’t you. School’s closing next year, isn’t it. Word’s spread all over the school, hasn’t it. Not a damn thing they can do to me now, is there.”

It was true, Edmund’s previous blackmail material had outlived its usefulness; but Edmund was a Moulde, and he never started a conversation without some form of leverage.

Ozzie Fitch: Chapter 1

Sat, 23 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Darla, my darling Darla, looked mighty fine as we walked down the Upper West streets. All shine and slick, she hung on my arm like class, hips singing their sweet swing as we popped down to Donnie’s for fish. Upper West just wished it had the shine that Darla had, all mighty fine. Gold and hip-hugging like my arms ached for, only classy. No trash walking with Ozzie, oh no. Ozzie wouldn’t be seen walking with trash on his wrist. And Darling Darla? She was no trash.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 12

Fri, 22 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Passionate scholars and obsessed fans of history know the Carver family. Their place in history is assured as that of a noble family stuck at the edge of the aristocracy, beating and battering at the gate to be let in, only ever achieving tertiary status as peers. There has never been a Carver more honored than a Marquis, and their most notable family member, Lord Bullion Carver, rarely warrants more than a footnote in the more specific and specialized history books. (This footnote being the recipe for the notorious mushroom and chicken cream presented during King Edvard II’s coronation) There is no other family that married into more royal families and noble bloodlines, and yet never achieved any inherent political worth, as these marriages were inevitably to children no higher than seventh in the lines of succession.

Those fans and scholars need not be told, then, that the Carver Family was originally based in Mothburn before acquiring land outside of Cliffside and uprooting their family tree.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 11

Wed, 20 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Winter, as the great seasonal poet Kellay Borgrom wrote in her thirty-page poem On Winter, was famed for its ability to freeze things, including time.

Edmund was forced to concur with this sentiment. While he was perfectly aware of time passing between his mornings, his evenings, and every moment in-between; each moment felt much the same as the next. When he was at Grimm’s, his focus was on the Mothburn Graveyard and the shadowy Raven Ressurectionist who stalked between its headstones. When he waited among the stones for Leeta to arrive, he agonized over his recent school-work, hoping against hope it would meet her expectations and she would allow him to remain by her side. When he was with her, he was dumbstruck, able to do little more than return the strained pleasantries she offered.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 10

Mon, 18 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Now what?

Edmund thought about it all the way back to his room. He thought about it all the way into his bed. He thought about it all night, and when he woke the next morning his notes in the night had been nothing more than Leeta’s name, written over and over and over again.

The first thing he did, upon reading this maelstrom of monikers, was pull out his notebook.

Introducing Ozzie Fitch

Sat, 16 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Up next, I will be posting a very experimental piece of work, Ozzie Fitch.

Ozzie Fitch is a tale of hope, of struggle, of friendship through the trials of life, but mostly about pain. The pain we carry, the pain we share, and the pain that could cripple us if we are not careful.

Some hide their pain, turn from it in an attempt to maintain their veneer of adulthood. Some succumb to it, turning bitter and cynical as they see any joy or passion for life as a morbid lie. Some turn their pain into power. Some call it magic. And some feel their pain is the only thing that makes them worthwhile.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 9

Fri, 15 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The sun was already fading behind the Mothburn skyline as Edmund left the school grounds.

A distant part of him, quiet and nervous, tried to tell him that he wasn’t ready to return to the streets of Mothburn yet. He didn’t know exactly where he was going.

That wasn’t entirely true, was it? He knew where he was going, he just didn’t know where there was. He knew he could find it; he found his way around Grimm’s, Moulde Hall, and the empty coal mine of Haggard Hill. He could easily find his way through the streets of Mothburn. He understood needing to hide and creating safe-havens on dangerous streets. He knew about pride and the desire to walk with your head held high, even if everyone else thought you shouldn’t. He grasped criminality, having been adopted into a family for whom everyday criminal behavior was considered reflexive.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 8

Wed, 13 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund’s day was ruined.

This is a turn of phrase often bandied about without due concern to its proper meaning. Indeed, the optimist might say that Edmund’s day was freed from routine, and therefore he was — for perhaps the first time since arriving at Grimm’s — able to act as he wished, rather than was required.

Indeed, many have made the argument that, had Edmund’s day not been “ruined,” he would never have made the discoveries which led to the Great British Empire being what it is today. (Whether this is a good or a bad thing has yet to be resolved)

For his own part, Edmund did not allow himself to think too far about the ramifications of his spoiled schedule. What was done was done, and he couldn’t go back and fix it now.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 7

Mon, 11 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

After a suitable mourning period for his lost bent-key,[^fn:1] Edmund refocused his efforts.

He needed a new bent-key. A better one. One that could easily circumvent the lock on Tunansia’s chest, and even more besides. To that end, Edmund resolved to research everything he could, from engineering and metallurgy to the newest locksmithing theories. Once he was well-educated, there wouldn’t be a lock in the world that could keep him out.

By lunchtime that day, he paused to make a new bent-key from a hat-pin he had found on the hallway floor. Even though it was lighter and flimsier than his old broken bent-key, it made him feel better to have one in his pocket.

For two more days he spent his time in the Grimm’s library, pulling books and papers on locksmithing down from the dark-wood shelves. It was a long and arduous process, as most of the books he could find were devoted to theoretical lockery, as opposed to the practical application of the physics and mechanics involved.

A New Book to Download

Sat, 09 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

With that short batch of Cliffside Short-stories finished, I am now forced to look at what comes next for my Saturday postings. Of all the writing I’ve done, what fits best in a sidelong once-a-week format? I have more short stories, but not enough to outlast the weeks of books I have to upload. Do I write more short stories? Use Saturday to upload drafts and show my process? Only post personal bloggings about how I feel or what’s going on in the news today?

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 6

Fri, 08 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund’s remaining silent, however, did not mean that he understood. Tunansia’s behavior confused him greatly and occupied much of his mind as they walked back to Grimm’s from the train station. They parted without a word at the entry, Edmund continuing towards Altmore house, Tunansia towards her own room at the other end of the school.

When her footsteps finally faded, taking her melancholy airs with her, Edmund was able to focus on one fact that now swam about his head.

Edmund had won!

It was almost disappointing. As far as Edmund had been concerned, he had expected the salvation of the family to take him into his late teens, perhaps early twenties at the outside. If nothing else, he had thought he would have needed to put some effort into it. Instead, he had merely accepted an invitation, and in return they had accepted him into the highest ranks of society.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 5

Wed, 06 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

On the day in question, Edmund was sitting quietly in the Library, working through a curious contradiction in two separate editions of a book on Aqueous Vitaes in the brain, when a voice made of meringue and steel wool broke through the silence.

“Edrum!”

“Edmund,” he reminded Victrola as she bounded through the stacks towards him. “Edmund Moulde.”

“That’s what I said,” Victrola smiled with saccharine glee as she tossed her curly hair behind her ear. “I have wonderful news! I got a ten on my paper on Advanced Acrimony,” pride shone off her pale face. “She said it was inspired!”

“If you say so,” Edmund said. He had thought it a fairly obvious observation.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 4

Mon, 04 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

When Edmund awoke, he knew exactly where he was. This was in direct contradiction to expected behavior of any child thrown into a new world over the course of a single night, but he didn’t have the time for such formalities.

Instead he engaged in his usual morning routine: first, he looked at his notebook.

Sure enough, during the night his sleeping brain had tried to wake him with any number of sudden thoughts, concerns, ideas, and the like; but his hand had caught them all, trapping them in ink before his rest was disturbed.

The Steamworks

Sat, 02 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

You have to be careful in the Steamworks.

It is a belly filled with brass and steam. Towering pipes twist and turn like yarn through brick walls and floors. Concrete walls and iron doors, bars like a prison. The heat, sweltering and pure, scouring your skin free. It is enough to drive you insane.

I thought I was insane, once.

That first day, when I had taken the King’s Shilling and become a City Engineer, I crawled through the hole in the ground down the slim ladder with rungs as thick as bottles. I thought I could feel the heartbeat of the City through the bricks as I descended, deeper and deeper into the pit. I kept my eyes shut, squeezing tightly lest I look down and fall.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 3

Fri, 01 Sep 2023 00:00:00 -0500

For six hours the train traveled through the countryside, stopping at various towns to pick up and drop off passengers.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 2

Wed, 30 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund left Moulde Hall on the thirty-first of August. In proper British fashion, it was raining.

Grimm's School for the Erratically Gifted: Chapter 1

Mon, 28 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund was an orphan from birth, as was fashionable at the time…

Thank you Zonelets, Hello Hugo

Sun, 27 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

A whole new website design!

The Kettleworth Files

Sat, 26 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Yellow. Burning yellow. With a sharp sliver of black dividing the topaz jewel, the cat’s eyes slowly blinked in the flickering firelight.

“Patience,” Rufus muttered, half to himself, half to the cat. “Almost there. Almost.”

It had become a mantra, a holy psalm that spurred Rufus’s actions ever onward. It kept him going, moving in the dim candlelight when his strength had all but left him. Almost there. Just a few more tests…

A Grimm Introduction

Fri, 25 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

With my RPG treatise finally complete (or at least as complete as anything ever is, in my head…) it is time once more to return to the dark and twisted world of Edmund Moulde, and the second book of the Macabre Quadrilogy.

In many ways, this book was supposed to be the first book in Edmund’s story. I had imagined a very Rowlingesque (sans bigotry) opening of the odd little Moulde boy being tested after he used the chemicals from his sister’s makeup kit to revivify his dead pet rat. Then, off the odd little Moulde boy would go to learn about the mad sciences of penny-pulps and wrought-iron steampunk.

A Long List

Wed, 16 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Wait, wait!

Not finished yet, I guess…

Call it an errata, if you wish, but the truth is there are simply too many games and too many complex aspects of RPGs to ever really be “finished.” Even in the process of writing this, games have come out that are far better examples of, say, experiments with Game Balance or explorations of real-time than the examples I used.

And that’s nothing compared to the subjects I haven’t even broached. I could spend ten thousand words on the subject of non-American RPGs, (such as Das Schwartze Auge, In Nomine Satanis/Magna Veritas, or Tormenta). I could spend hours building lists and catagorizing rule-inserts and independant hacks. I could do a progressive historical dissertation, akin to The CRPG Addict, and chronologically explore the evolution of RPG systems. I could focus entirely on exploring MOSAIC Strict game design. I could look at how systems gamify relationships, the effect of Splats, defining RPG genres, cross-game rewards, cutscenes, two-stat games, one-pagers, or do a mathematical breakdown of all the common kinds of die-rolling mechanics.

Conclusion

Mon, 14 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

When I first started this…I guess you could call it a project, I did it for weird reasons. I had been struggling with my other writing projects, hitting brick wall after brick wall, forcing my fingers to type out trite and uninteresting sentences that advanced boring stories with empty souls, to the point where sitting down to write was becoming an act of self-harm. My brain began its spiraling semi-regularly, and it began to adversely affect my relationships with my friends, family, and myself.

The Clockwork Spider

Sat, 12 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Duke Markus von Himmelman, son of Lady Margret De’Mechaump and Lord Phredrick von Himmelman, Baron of Lower East Spannerton, Duke of Topside, and a Welcome Lord in the court of Prince Reinheart himself, was furious. He stormed about his office like a madman, pulling his watch out of his vest pocket and clicking it open every few steps. When the clockwork timepiece provided nothing less than further frustration, he would stuff it back into his vest, turn sharply on his heel, and begin stomping in a different direction across the large carpet.

Wanderhome, and Apocalyptic Hope

Fri, 11 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

I wanted to end this project with a discussion of this game, because for all the myriad of games I have mentioned in this journey of ours, Wanderhome differs in perhaps some of the most significant and profound ways from all the others.

Based on the Belonging Outside Belonging system (also called “No dice, no masters”) from the Dream Askew and Dream Apart games, Wanderhome is, quote: “a pastoral fantasy role-playing game about traveling animal-folk, the world they inhabit, and the way the seasons change. It is a game filled with grassy fields, mossy shrines, herds of chubby bumblebees, opossums in sundresses, salamanders with suspenders, starry night skies, and the most beautiful sunsets you can imagine.”

Nowhere Kingdom, and Public Play

Wed, 09 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

In Nowhere Kingdom, the players take the role of a council of advisors and gentry charged with suggesting policies and proposals to the ruling Demons of the Kingdom. Thankfully, these demons are not evil; just mildly cruel, mostly bored, and they only get to rule the Kingdom for a year — their price for overthrowing the previous tyrant.

As the game progresses, random problems land on the council-table and the council-members must all come up with proposals to solve them. The demons then vote for who created the most funny, chaotic, and unpredictable policy. Whomever wins gets a token, and then the council-members must answer one of a list of questions to help develop how this enacted policy helps, hinders, pleases, or displeases the town, council, demons, and citizenry.

Noumenon, and Exploration

Mon, 07 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Noumenon is an RPG…and frankly, that’s almost all I’m prepared to say categorically about it.

Noumenon is a system designed to facilitate an exploration of a surreal dream. Characters wake up as the insect-like Sarcophagi trapped within the Silhouette Rouge, and they barely have time to look around before they are approached by a well-dressed three-eyed elephant-headed being who guides them to a sweeping staircase with only thirty-three steps that reaches all the way up and out of a hundred-story-high cavern.

The Docks

Sat, 05 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Loman John stared into the darkness. He could hear the steamer-ship — could always hear the steamer-ship — before its dim lights came into view. The fog was low in the evenings, and even the strongest lanterns could not pierce the mist for more than a kilometer at most; but the hissing grind of the engines were unmistakable, and it carried even in the Cliffside fog.

The layfolk called it fog, but Loman John knew more names. Every dockworker did. There were fogs that were light and pleasant, like butterflies kissing your skin. There was damp and heavy fog, the kind that made your socks wet. There were the mists that covered the air like smoke, and you couldn’t see three feet in front of your face. There were more besides, and each had their own name to the Dockworkers of Cliffside.

Do Not Read This Journal, and Chain Letters

Fri, 04 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Do Not Read This Journal is a horror journaling RPG, but I hesitate to call it a Solo experience. Certainly, the process of journaling in the game is akin to other Solo RPGs, along with its cards and oracles. The significant difference is, once you have finished your journaling — your “turn,” as it were — you tuck the rules into the first page of the journal and pass it on to someone else. Ideally a friend, of course; someone who is interested in these kinds of games and delights at the idea of a non-solo journaling experience.

Hero Quest, and Legacy

Wed, 02 Aug 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Hero Quest is the best game ever made.

The best thing about Hero Quest is the gold. Every quest grants your characters gold that can be used to acquire cracking equipment that improves your character’s chances at surviving their next quest.

Okay, but is Hero Quest really an RPG? Perhaps, perhaps not. If it is, it certainly leans heavily into the strategy-board game side of RPGs, similar to the RPG-like Gloomhaven or Betrayal at House on the Hill. At the same time, Hero Quest did do something that was prevalent in early RPG games; your character sticks around after every quest.

Demon Crawl - Gothic, and Realtime Combat

Mon, 31 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

I feel like the name Demon Crawl — Gothic does a good job of explaining the tone and style of the game, so I will instead focus on its inspirations. As a table-top strategy RPG, it was inspired in part by action games like Diablo and Doom.

If those sound like strange inspirations for an RPG, I understand the instinct. As I’ve explained before, being inspired by computer games is not exactly uncommon among RPGs, but the kind of inspiration that Demon Crawl has taken from Diablo and Doom is not exclusively their tone or setting. Instead, they’ve taken inspiration from the action-based nature of the games themselves.

The Allingdale Ball

Sat, 29 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

“Never!” Yolanda Allingdale hitched up her dress and began to run. Not the expected trot of a petulant child, or the flurry of lace that marked any good girl’s proper retreat to their room; but a bracing stride of a run that carried her out of the room and halfway up the mansion’s stairs before her mother could raise a single protest.

It was difficult to run like that in such thick and tightly fitted clothing, but Yolanda had practice. She ran everywhere she could, from the mansion to the orchard and from the orchard to the pond. She loved running, and not just because it was precisely the sort of thing the Governess disapproved of, but also because it was freeing, liberating. It felt natural, like she had been born to run from tree to tree, climbing and swinging in the branches.

Paradox Perfect, and Timing the Action

Fri, 28 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Paradox Perfect is, quote: “the improv comedy sci-fi TTRPG of absolute absurdity and chronological chaos! Generate a bizarre Utopian future, role-play even stranger time-travelers to defend it, and embark on an adventure through history to save the timeline from alteration - before your past, present, and future change along with it!” Paradox Perfect uses the standard die rolling mechanics of a Forged in the Dark game; rolling d6s and calling 1-3 a miss, 4-5 a hit with a complication, and 6 a straight success. In addition, however, this silly game about time travel has an additional mechanic: Resolve.

Revels in the Heavenly Hall, and FKR

Wed, 26 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Revels in the Heavenly Hall is, quote: “a game of violence without dice, powered by autonomy and collaboration in a one-shot framework that lets you sketch out a battlemap, arrange fighters on it one by one and then smash them into one another with reckless abandon. Its aim is to simulate tactics — not only good tactics, but awful ones too; ones that you would be ashamed to have thought of in a setting where the stakes are high and the story hinged on you being good at much of anything.”

Orichalcum, and Map Makers

Mon, 24 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Playing the part of exiled citizens from a distant empire, the players of Orichalcum do not play “characters.” Not really. Instead, they take turns in randomly selecting five “pillars” — important aspects of their lost culture — and drawing them on a map of the empire’s land. The exiles describe their memories of said pillar, and then draw their own version on their own land, explaining the differences between the original and the hollow imitation.

Stories at the Passenger's Crossing

Sat, 22 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Arthur Von Gusse sat quietly, sipping his tea.

It was some dreadful Asian blend — nowhere near as pleasant or aromatic as a solid Brittianian tea; what was the country coming too? The King was becoming far too multicultural, Arthur mused. When Queen Virginia was alive, the Empire always had the best, whether it was English or not. Of course, the best often was English, and if it wasn’t… well, a short war would soon see that it was. Now, all King Wilhelm seemed to care about was making friends, and by extension making everything as foreign as possible. The Passenger’s Crossing was one of the few places left in the whole of Cliffside that hadn’t completely succumbed to the advancing hordes.

Goblins?, and Goblins

Fri, 21 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Goblins? is an RPG. In it, you play as a goblin.

It is not unique.

In recent years the prevalence of Goblin-focused RPGs has exploded. There’s Goblins in Shadow, Noblesse Goblige, Gobs of Gobs, Hannukah Goblins, The Goblin Warrens, Goblin Country, You are 100 Goblins, Now Go Save the World, Goblins and Grimoires, I’ll be Taking That, All the Kings Goblins, Journey through Goblinland, Those Little Bastards, We Gank at Midnight, Goblin Market, Disgusting Little Freaks, Stacks of Goblins, GOB, Goblin Karting, and Three Goblins in a Trenchcoat; and that’s certainly not all of them.

I Have Gone This Far, and Quitting

Wed, 19 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

I Have Gone This Far is a Solo Journaling RPG played with a deck of cards, a falling-block tower, and a means of recording your story. It uses the Wretched and Alone SRD, a system for creating bleak journaling games with established win and loss states. In I Have Gone This Far, You play the part of a charlatan and con-artist who has beguiled the locals into believing that you know something of demons. You’ve sold them charms, spells, and means of protecting themselves from an imagined threat…until suddenly your charge becomes possessed.

Mausritter, and OSR

Mon, 17 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Mausritter is a rules-light fantasy sword-and-whiskers game inspired by any number of similar stories, including Mouse Guard, Brambly Hedge, The Rescuers, etc. It combines a lot of rules and ideas from many games I’ve mentioned here, including the character creation method from Into the Odd, inventory management from Knave, layouts from Mothership, and other concepts from places like Goblin Punch, Moonhop, and Last Grasp Grimoire.

Stats are the simple three of Strength, Dexterity, and Will. HP and Gold are found by rolling 1d6 each. Inventory items are cut-out squares that you fit onto a small grid that is your backpack. Magic is used by wielding runes which can be used three times before being recharged by performing a unique task. The game is more about exploring than finding a single villain to thwart, and is a wonderful example of OSR gaming.

Skyrail

Sat, 15 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

It is a fact universally acknowledged that once a pirate has spent enough time at sea, the Horizon looks different everywhere on earth.

This is not how a sailor begins their career. When they first step onto the swaying ship, young and fresh-faced, they are first overwhelmed by the majesty of it all: a distant expanse of unending blue, swallowing up the past, future, and anything else that the sailor brings with them.

Highwinds, and Constructed Challenge

Fri, 14 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Highwinds is a space opera RPG, with elements of fantasy thrown in for good measure. The game encourages you to “Take the role of resourceful heroes on the edge of space and fight pirates, save people from killer robots, and explore ancient vaults locked in astral space.”

Focused on combat, the game only has four stats for its characters: Accuracy, Dodge, Initiative, and Toughness. You pick your skills, your talents, your equipment, and off you go to swash your buckle across the stars.

Iron Edda Accelerated, and Balance

Wed, 12 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Powered by FATE Accelerated, Iron Edda Accelerated is a Norse-mythology inspired Mecha-RPG about warriors fighting alongside the bones of dead giants and metal monsters. Ragnarok has come to the land, and the evil dwarves are sending their mechanical constructs to destroy everything you hold dear. How will you survive the coming cataclysm?

You have a lot of choices: perhaps the most overt answer is “by binding my soul to the bones of an ancient giant and go Kaiju it up,” but that’s only one option. You could also be a Skald, a Seer, a Farmer, a Merchant, a Shieldbearer, or more; and all of these destinies result in a very different kind of game.

Session Zero, and Session Zero

Mon, 10 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Session Zero is a card-based solo character creation game. It is, in short, a quick and easy journaling game to build a creative backstory. You draw at least five playing cards from a shuffled deck, and based on the prompts you write out significant moments in your character’s history before the beginning of the game.

It’s called Session Zero, because that’s what a session zero is. As a gaming term, session zero is, natch, what comes before the first session. It is, in essence, the prologue to the game.

A Macabe Conclusion

Sun, 09 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

So ends the first story in the Edmund Moulde quadrilogy. With some time to spare before my treatise on the medium of RPGs is finished, I will spend the next few Saturdays uploading some short stories set in what I ended up calling The Cliffside Universe

After all, Brackenburg is only one of the major cities in the Britannian Empire, and a steadily decaying one, at that. There is room for stories across the globe as the world slowly changes from steam-punk to diesel-punk, and no one city is better suited to display the variety and complexity of that transition than Cliffside, hub of trade, adventure, and diverse stew of humanity.

Poems

Sun, 09 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Opening each Edmund book with an excerpt or quote from a fabricated biography of Edmund Moulde was the plan for a long time…but when I first decided to post the book on a (now defunct) blog, I needed something to separate each chapter. So, I decided to write more of Edmund’s Poems.

What resulted was a mix of parodies and absurdities. At first, I attributed each quote to a different scholar and book, but soon the rivalry between Sirs Kohlm and Krink took shape, and eventually they became the only scholars I cited.

Chapter 18

Sat, 08 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

A pin falling on a carpet from the height of an ant’s back could have broken the silence. The air itself froze, not daring to cross the room for fear of disrupting the stunned tableau.

Tricknee had no such restraint.

“WHAT?!”

His lanky body unfolded in a flurry of black limbs, rushing towards Edmund like a wrinkled thresher machine.

“Please forgive me, Mister Tricknee,” words tumbled from his mouth in an avalanche, desperate to slow his meteoric advance, “I know we agreed to reveal this later, but I simply cannot in good conscience keep such important news from our honored guests. After all,” inspiration struck, “they have clearly expressed how much they hate surprises.”

Inspirisles, and Inclusivity

Fri, 07 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Inspirisles is an all ages RPG, with a focus on storytelling, empathy, and cooperation. Its secondary purpose is to help teach you Sign Language.

Now I could leave it at that, but that would do the game a great disservice. It is as creative and well designed as any system, pulling narrative inspiration from Arthurian legend and mythology. It focuses on collaboration, world-building, and teen-adventures in the style of YA novels and 80s classics like The Neverending Story, Labyrinth, and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.

Hopelessly Devoted, and Sexual Roleplay

Wed, 05 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Hopelessly Devoted is a NSFW solo-journaling RPG, and this is going to be an uncomfortable post for some of you. If you don’t want to hear it, that’s fine, see you next time. For everyone else, some ground-rules:

First and foremost, I will not hear any dissing of the sexual role-play community. The RPG community should know what it’s like to have people totally misconstrue our hobbies in a manner that details their hangups more than it does ours. Even worse, we know what it’s like for someone to get it right, and then shake their heads and say it’s weird. We know better. People like what they like.

Apocalypse World, and Sex

Mon, 03 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Apocalypse World does something that no other RPG that I can think of does. It deals with sex.

Now…some of the more experienced players out there might have just whispered “Dominate” under their breath. Or perhaps “Frozen Witchfire Embrace.” Or even “Charm Person.” Or…gods protect us… F.A.T.A.L.

Because yes, despite what I said, a lot of RPG systems deal with sex, and almost all of them do so poorly.

No, I can’t say poorly…they do so casually. Childishly. And some very poorly.

Chapter 17

Sat, 01 Jul 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund stood in front of Moulde Hall, dressed in the finest fitting suit he had been able to purchase in town, watching the carriage driver drive up the hill.

Ung had been waiting in his room to help him dress. Edmund was no expert, but Ung had assured him that the suit was well made and a perfect fit. The collar was broad and tall, and the vest was a thin leathery gray with Plinkerton’s watch tucked neatly into the pocket. His pants were well fitted, resting lightly on his shiny black shoes, while faint beige ruffles slipped out from around his sleeves like flowers.

Betrayal at House on the Hill, and Knowing It When You See It

Fri, 30 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Betrayal at House on the Hill is an RPG.

No, it isn’t.

I mean, it is, kinda, but it very much isn’t. Betrayal is a lovely little game where you create your own 80s horror flick, complete with traitor, campy villain, and spooky house. If you go looking to buy Betrayal you’ll find it on the shelf next to all the other board games, not an RPG to be seen.

Mörk Borg and Ending the Game

Wed, 28 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Mörk Borg is grimdark, apocalyptic, and born from a mix of doom-metal album cover and fever dream. It is rust, rags, and rotten meat. It is rules-light and tone-rich.

First, let’s talk about violence. Combat in Mörk Borg is simple enough. It borrows heavily from the d20 systems you’re familiar with; roll a d20, add your bonuses, and if you roll over the difficulty rating, you succeed.

The difficulty rating is 12. It’s always 12. Enemies never roll, similar to Knave, and you either roll over 12 to hit, or over 12 to dodge. The difficulty is constant no matter which monsters you’re fighting against.

World Ending Game, and Losing

Mon, 26 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

World Ending Game is an RPG about what it says on the tin. It is, quote: “a falling-action game. Many existing game systems excel at climactic final battles or big-stakes adventures, but don’t allow you to sit in the aftermath, thinking about all that has come before and imagining what could come after. World Ending Game is a tool to let you do just this.”

The game is mostly comprised of minigames, called Endings. They allow the players to narrate and resolve the overarching story. It gives the players time to say goodbye, rather than deal with the abrupt smash-cut ending that most campaigns provide. World Ending Game is the denouement session to everything that came before it.

Chapter 16

Sat, 24 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund cast the lantern around the tomb, casting shadows over the rough stone. Plinkerton didn’t create this room; it was far too old. The long steps and secret door weren’t likely the original entrance either; people would notice if the crypt of the first Moulde was suddenly covered by a clock statue. There had to be another way out…the original way out.

Edmund was beginning to realize the problem with trying to be three things at once; a person, a Moulde, and an Edmund. It required him to translate the confusing thoughts and actions of others three times before he could understand the situation with precision.

Mothership, and Death

Fri, 23 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Set in space, Mothership takes its cues from the horror sci-fi genre; everything from Aliens to Event Horizon. Players familiar with Call of Cthulhu will likely be comfortable with the game’s sanity and panic mechanics, while the addition of classes and a tiered skill tree round out the flexibility of character creation. Space is dangerous, death comes easy, and if your character is lucky enough, they might make it to second level.

Sins, and Horror

Wed, 21 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

So you may have noticed — I certainly have — that I’ve generally use Fantasy and Horror games for examples in this treatise. Of course there are more genres and styles than those two, but it does bring up a fascinating dichotomy in the hobby.

Let’s look at the RPG Sins. Heavily based on the Storyteller System used in White Wolf games like Exalted or Werewolf, Sins casts your persona as an undead being recently wrenched back to some form of self-awareness. Protecting humanity from an otherworldly horde known as the Brood, your character must maintain a balance between their humanity and their monstrousness, or else fall to ruin. It’s body horror and blood, hive-minds and howling from beyond the black. It’s 28 Days Later: the Masquerade.

Cairn, and Empowerment

Mon, 19 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Cairn is, according to its website, quote: “an adventure game about exploring a dark & mysterious Wood filled with strange folk, hidden treasure, and unspeakable monstrosities. Character generation is quick and random, classless, and relies on fictional advancement rather than through XP or level mechanics.”

Aesthetically, Cairn is a fantasy D&D-like, with swords and spells and goblins galore. Mechanically, it’s an interesting mix of new and old-school rules. Random rolling of character stats is from the early era, when new characters’ long-term survival was neither expected nor reliable. On the other hand, its combat system is rather new, starting from the assumption that all attacks hit and the only randomness comes from a weapon’s damage dice.

Chapter 15

Sat, 17 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The Mansion struck ten in the evening, the deep boom rolling over Haggard Hill. The storm clouds continued their bubbling creep over the city, turning the warm velvety darkness of nighttime into the empty gray darkness of foreboding doom. Black rain fell fast and hard against the windows of Moulde Hall.

Edmund raised his crank lantern higher against the gloom. He had found it in a storage-room filled with gardening supplies; a clever tool that somehow turned the rotation of a crank on its side into a dim reddish light. Edmund had prevented himself from taking it apart then and there only by promising himself the opportunity later, when he had the time.

Endure, and Realism

Fri, 16 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Rules-light and focused on ordinary people, the center of Endure as a survival RPG is, quote: “Its Endurance economy. Endurance helps characters succeed and keeps them going, but is always depleting. If you are out of Endurance, you have to rely solely on your cunning and luck of the roll — and often it is not enough to survive. You need time and resources to recover Endurance, so the game ebbs and flows between tense action and quiet downtime.”

Paris Gondo - the Life-saving Magic of Inventorying, and Equipment

Wed, 14 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Paris Gondo - The Life-Saving Magic of Inventorying is tongue-in-cheek to be sure. Designed as a storytelling game with no prep and only a few dice, the game is a gentle jab at an aspect of RPGs that has gone by the wayside in recent years; the inventory.

Now, that’s not entirely true. Almost every RPG acknowledges that characters can carry things, keeping them in their pockets or backpacks. Many don’t bother keeping careful track, however, opting for the adventure-game route of hammerspace or bottomless pockets. Your inventory is not supposed to be “realistic,” its supposed to be full of single-use assets that get you past the next obstacle so you can continue the game.

Burnout Reaper, and Economies

Mon, 12 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Burnout Reaper is a dark and bloody cyberpunk game about the murderous gig economy: rich people need organs, and thanks to the omnipotent forces of supply and demand, your job is to acquire them from people who haven’t finished using them yet. A Grand Guignol style bloodbath relishing in the horrors of late-stage capitalism, Burnout Reaper is a brilliant, if blunt, exploration of Economy.

Each gig you take rewards you with Cyber Crypto, or CC. CC can be converted to Authority Credits, or AC, after each gig. The exchange rate is random, meaning your pile of CC could be exceptionally valuable, or practically worthless; You can puchase a few necessities with CC, but your bills have to be paid in AC.

Chapter 14

Sat, 10 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

It is important to recognize — as Edmund did when he grew much older — that the discovery of Aoide changed everything for him, and not for the better.

Before Aoide, his days were a whirlwind of repetitive activity. In spite of Edmund’s enamouration with the library, he still had responsibilities, and as painful as it was for him there were times he needed to leave his beloved library to fulfill his obligations; namely, exploring the locked rooms of Moulde Hall, eating a lonely dinner at six of the clock precisely, spying on his family, taking Matron her tray of lunch, and his lessons.

Sacrifice, and Narrative Conflict

Fri, 09 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Sacrifice is a universal RPG system, though only technically. In practice, Sacrifice is a deconstruction of the entire RPG medium and dramatic storytelling.

There is, in fact, only one simple set of rules: your character can do anything that the narrative has established your character can do. When they want to do something that the narrative hasn’t established they can do, then they roll 2d6. If they roll a 12, then they succeed. If they don’t, they fail… unless they sacrifice something.

.Dungeon, and Augmented Reality

Wed, 07 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

.dungeon is a pretty simplistic RPG in a lot of ways. With a MMORPG dungeon-crawling aesthetic, the game taps into virtual RPG simplicity. You assign dice to your stats and roll the dice any time you want to do something. Roll high enough, and you do. Roll lower, and you don’t. Pretty simple rules-light stuff.

But there is one specific difference: .dungeon’s ludo-narrative taps into the meta-narrative of the game. Put simply, the real world affects the game-world.

Noblesse Goblige, and Minigames

Mon, 05 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Noblesse Goblige is a competitive GMless RPG based in Verdibog, a cosmopolitan goblin city in a swamp. In it, you play as a scion of one of five major goblin clans, each of which has a claim to the title of Gob-Boss after the current Gob-Boss, Lady Stinkworth, died without naming a successor.

Each player plays a character from a different clan, each with the goal of manipulating their way to the top of the successor list, bringing power, prestige, and lots and lots of money to their clan. Only one can be crowned, so political backstabbing, frontstabbing, and actualstabbing is in everyone’s near future.

Chapter 13

Sat, 03 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

When he was sufficiently armed with the scripture of the ages, Edmund removed the last nails from the tapestry and pulled down the rest of the crumbling wall..

From the front, the statue looked like a beautiful marble statue that wouldn’t move, no matter how long Edmund prodded at it. Around the back, however, was a large opening at the base of the woman’s torso. A few frayed threads stuck to two threaded bolts suggested the opening had once been covered by a piece of cloth, and perhaps it still would have been, had the rat not found it before Edmund.

Mission Accomplished, and Competition

Fri, 02 Jun 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Mission Accomplished is an RPG inspired by shows like Archer, The Venture Brothers, and Better Off Ted. It’s a game about being a team of super-spies who save the world on a weekly basis, usually in 30-45 minute increments. You drop into dangerous situations, mix things up, and then get out of there and back to HQ, a job-well-done.

But that’s only half of the game. The second half is the HR meeting, where the complaining, bickering, and blaming happens. The cooperative game of saving the world suddenly becomes the competitive game of credit-stealing and finger-pointing.

You Awaken In A Strange Place, and Playing To Find Out

Wed, 31 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

You Awaken In A Strange Place is an RPG.

Juuuust barely.

I mean, take a look at it; there’s barely anything there. The core tenet of the game is that everyone comes to the game unprepared. If you want to play this system, the first thing you have to do build the system itself. I mean, you have to call it a sandbox, don’t you? There’s nothing to railroad. The GM is given five minutes after building the characters to make notes before the game officially starts, like some perverse scholastic speech-and-debate competition.

Darkspace and Scripted Play

Mon, 29 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Darkspace is an RPG, though I’m not sure the game would agree. As far as it’s concerned, it is, quote: “an immersive sci-fi experience. Five players take on the roles of the crew of the Triton, an ill-fated cargo ship alone in dark space. The captain, the doctor, the mercenary, the corpo, the synth — one of you is a murderer. Will you solve the mystery of the Triton before the ship’s life support fails?”

Chapter 12

Sat, 27 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

It was almost dinnertime when they finally stopped. Edmund had lost every game.

Before they started, Edmund was skeptical; Draughts looked perfectly balanced to him. Both sides had the same number of pieces, the same rules for movement…any game had to end in a tie, or at least be very close.

By the end of the sixth game, Edmund had learned differently. He was beginning to see the whole board at once and to plan more than a single step ahead. He was finding pleasure in small victories; he had captured three of Junapa’s pieces in the last game and even kinged one of his own.

QZ, and Sandboxes

Fri, 26 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Inspired by Annihilation and Roadside Panic, QZ is about the Quarantine Zone; a place where the laws of nature decided to take a holiday and turn the area into a surreal fever dream. The game itself is not a horror game, nor comedy, nor drama; but the QZ can be horrific, funny, and dramatic in turn.

In the instructions on how to use the rule-book, the book clearly states that the game was designed to be played as a sandbox.

Lady Blackbird, and Railroads

Wed, 24 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Lady Blackbird is, in fact, Chapter one of Tales from the Wild Blue Yonder, three pre-built one-shot adventure modules where you play as pre-made characters, in medias res, with a carefully constructed scenario for you to play through in an attempt to fulfill your character’s goals.

It’s not as locked-down as that makes it sound. For all the pre-building these characters have gone through, there is a lot of flexibility in how the characters are played and how their backstories are revealed. You spend dice to do certain actions, and you can regain those dice by inventing and revealing bits of your backstory to other characters. You get bonus dice or XP whenever you do something that connects with your characters motivations, but its up to you how they connect. You can also buy off certain motivations and replace them with others if — in narrative — your character changes their mind.

Uneasy Lies the Head, and Telling RPG Stories Wrong

Mon, 22 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Uneasy Lies the Head is a GM-less RPG focused on telling the story of a tumultuous royal court as a disastrous portent threatens to destroy everything the court holds dear. Perhaps the throne has cracked, perhaps the revolution has finally reached the gates, perhaps the sun has exploded. Whatever the cause, the players — as members of the court — must enact their schemes to reshape the world to their liking.

Chapter 11

Sat, 20 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

“Wonder of wonders!” Kolb’s face was a beacon of delight as he opened the door. “How delightful! When I told Ung I would eat in my room, I hadn’t expected to be served by the future heir!” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t tell Wislydale the heir of the family is carting around cooking like a compliant courier. He’ll pitch a right fit.”

Edmund handed Kolb the tray, and then pulled out the letter. “This is also for you.”

For the Honor, and Media Influence

Fri, 19 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

When thinking about media influence in RPGs, the obvious first step to take is to look at games like For The Honor.

No, that’s not accurate. The most obvious step is to look at officially licensed RPGs based on IPs like Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, Lord of the Rings again, Doctor Who, Sailor Moon, Highlander, Steven Universe, and many more. Those are systems for creating stories in established canons — what we could uncharitably call the RPG equivalent of fanfiction.

Starlight Riders, and Story Structure

Wed, 17 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Starlight Riders is a card-driven heist-focused space-western with a 50s cartoon aesthetic. According to the website, “You play as a bunch of outlaws, fighting against an oppressive system that took all you had. It’s your role to tip the scales back in favor of the forgotten.”

GM-less and designed for one-shots, Starlight Riders is great for low/no prep games. There are a lot of little interesting quirks with the system: players get a few cards instead of a distinct “character sheet,” and as a troupe RPG, any player can play any character at the table. Gameplay alternates between cards, dice, and role-play fairly smoothly along the game’s three-act-structure.

Olaf Hits the Dragon With His Sword, and Dice Stories

Mon, 15 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Though you might not think to look at it, Olaf Hits the Dragon With His Sword is an RPG, even if the entirety of the game is summed up by its title.

The mechanics are simple enough: you and your fellow player have six colors of dice, and you answer a few narrative questions about your character — Olaf or the Dragon, natch — and their motivations. Each different answer corresponds to a color of die, and you put said colored die in the central pool after giving your answer.

Chapter 10

Sat, 13 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund awoke the next morning feeling different than he ever had before.

Leftover rain dripped from the roof outside. The storm had continued all night, letting up only slightly after the mansion struck six in the morning. The sudden silence had jolted Edmund from his shallow sleep.

His sleep had to have been shallow; getting to sleep had been so difficult. He had settled into bed at the stroke of one in the morning. Even so late, no matter how still he lay, his heart beat so fast and thoughts sped through his brain at such a rate that he had lain awake for hours, assaulted by a thousand ideas all demanding his attention.

Alas Vegas, and The Iron Screen

Fri, 12 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Designed to be played in only a few sessions, Alas Vegas is structured like an HBO miniseries, focusing on the strange surreal uncertainties that await each player. Afflicted with amnesia at the start of the game, they don’t know exactly who they are, where they are, or why they’re there. The players choose which skills they gain through narrative flashbacks, giving the characters shape both narratively and mechanically as the game continues.

Liminal Horror, and Forcing Emotions

Wed, 10 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Liminal Horror is a rules-light system for modern horror stories, taking inspiration from places like Silent Hill, Junji Ito, and Silent Legions.

Horror, like any narrative genre, can be applied in different ways. GURPS and FATE can both handle horror adventures, as can D&D with its Ravenloft series, or Blades in the Dark with its ghosts and demons. Any system can tell a horror story, because any game can have horrific things happen in it.

Michtim, and Emotional Numbers

Mon, 08 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Michtim is an RPG inspired by any number of tiny-furry adventurer stories, like Redwall, Mouseguard, and The Secret of NIMH. You play as the hamster-like Michtims, experiencing their society and the adventures these fuzzy little heroes get up to; including the sabotaging of human factories, swiping human technology, and protecting and healing the natural world. There is a youthful exuberance about the game; the book is written with a gentle delight that is reminiscent of old children’s cartoons, where your character’s abilities might stem from being a great tactician, cook, wizard, or cyborg.

Chapter 9

Sat, 06 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Trigger Warning: poem referencing self-harm

By the time he reached his room, Edmund wasn’t angry at all. He was an orphan, would always be an orphan, and was going to leave the mansion. Everything made sense again. He grabbed up his poetry notebook from his desk, chose meter and scheme, and began to write.

If I had my drothers,
I’d kill off by brothers,
and drown all my sisters in the bath.
I’d bury my cousins,
in graves by the dozens,
and bathe in the fruits of my wrath.

Then I’d make up a noose,
make sure it’s not loose,
And fit the rope tight round my head,
I’ll remove my foul stain
from the world when I’m slain,
They’ll all be quite happy I’m dead.

Knights of the Kitchen Table, And Game Tone

Fri, 05 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

So far we’ve covered how RPGs guide or encourage certain player behaviors from a lot of different angles: Games have rules, stories have rules, worlds, characters, and improv all have rules. Are there any other ways in which RPGs have rules?

Let’s go back to Of Grub and Grain for a moment. I mentioned cooking as a generally ignored aspect of RPGs, something we tend to just wave away.

What happens if we base a whole RPG around this oft ignored activity?

Troika!, and The Laws of the World

Wed, 03 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

To describe the world of the Troika! RPG is to do it an injustice. It is surreal and macabre, a mixture of Neil Gaiman and Terry Gilliam, full of hilarious horrors and unbearable fantasies, akin to a drug-fueled homage to Jim Henson, Planescape, and 70s adult cartoons. It is a bizarre pastiche of a thousand different fevered imaginings.

The system itself is as unworldly as its world-building. Character classes are randomly chosen from a list, with each being little more than a short suggestive paragraph, a list of skills, equipment, and perhaps a single special ability. There is no established skill-list, you might know anything from sword-fighting +1 to bathing +3 or grilling +2.

Call of Cthulhu, and The Rules Of The Story

Mon, 01 May 2023 00:00:00 -0500

You’ve probably heard of Call of Cthulhu if you’re involved in RPGs at all. Released in 1981 by Chaosium, the system is based on the works of H.P. Lovecraft. Usually set in the early 1900s, the game centers around investigators, artists, professors, and other similar protagonists of H.P.’s stories, discovering and hopefully thwarting the machinations of cultists, Old Ones, and horrors from beyond. It’s famous for having a high body count; do not fall in love with your characters, they will die or go mad with remarkable speed.

Chapter 8

Sat, 29 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

It was still raining.

Edmund had resolved himself to explore as many rooms in the Mansion as possible, and wasting even an hour for meals in familiar rooms felt inefficient; so when he acquired his lunch from Mrs. Kippling, he asked for a different dining room.

She directed him to a medium sized dining room, designed to seat six diners at most. There, Edmund ate his thick chunky soup that was almost a stew and smelled of oats.

MΣTΔ, and The Meta

Fri, 28 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

MΣTΔ is, natch, a very meta RPG.

I have a bit of a problem discussing MΣTΔ as a game, because the interplay of meta content and non-meta content in the game makes it somewhat difficult to pin down exactly what is and is not meta about the game.

Okay, deep breaths, let’s start at the beginning: what is “meta” anyway?

Meta, as a prefix and an artistic concept, deals with an interaction between a discrete body of work — whether a painting, book, game, movie, or other medium — and the audience of said work. “Meta” occurs when both work and audience are both aware of and able to address the body of work’s existence and the external expectations of said work.

Mythic Mortals, and Pretending To Be Yourself

Wed, 26 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Mythic Mortals is, quote: “an action-focused role-playing game that lets you and your friends engage in over-the-top fights and epic battles. Inspired by The Avengers, 300, X-Men, Devil May Cry, and so many more; Mythic Mortals aims to bring that fun, explosive experience to the table top.”

The mechanics of Mythic Mortals — a narrative-focused card-drawing strategic-combat system — are certainly worthy of discussion, but it’s the next line in the introduction that is most interesting to me: “You and your friends will play as yourselves, suddenly granted incredible powers.”

King is Dead, and Being Given A Role

Mon, 24 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

King is Dead is, quote: “A print-n’-play role-playing game about a family of giants, their feuds, and a prophesy that may spell doom. Will you follow your father’s wishes and swear fealty to Branwen, or revolt and fight against the tide of destiny and take what you think is rightfully yours, or perhaps you will find another way?”

Mechanically, the game uses the AGORA system, which was designed for a game that (at time of writing) has yet to be released. The structure is fairly simple, with stats, jobs, (read: skills) and assets. Lots and Ego are methods for rerolling dice and getting bonuses, respectively. An interesting Quirk system allows you to take a -1 die on any roll that relates to a personality trait, in exchange for a +2 die bonus on a later roll that relates to the same trait. This, in essence, gamifies the narrative structure of a character “flaw” causing issues early on, only to be pivotal to success later in the story. All in all, its a pretty interesting system.

Chapter 7

Sat, 22 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

At first, Edmund was delighted to receive his first expectation as a Moulde. As he was still unfamiliar with the Moulde family, he assumed — quite incorrectly — that attending a family meeting would be an easy expectation to meet.

By the time he had made his way up the hill again, he realized it was an opportunity as well: In An Ornithological Watcher’s Primer, Lady Strumbrugge had been very explicit that the only reliable way to learn about birds was to watch them.

Runaway Hirelings, and Imaginary People

Fri, 21 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Runaway Hirelings is a comedy RPG about the squishiest and most inconsequential characters in the whole of the RPG medium: the hireling.

Hirelings served a very specific role in the early era of dungeon-delving RPGs. Players often found themselves lacking certain abilities: perhaps no one was playing a lockpicking thief, or they needed some method for carrying and extracting all the loot they scavenged from the dungeons. One of the original uses of Charisma in 1st Edition D&D was to limit how many hirelings you could command at once, and how likely they were to stick around. At higher levels you were gifted a stronghold along with a specific number of followers that you could bring along on adventures, to help mitigate the rising difficulties of the dungeons.

Fiasco, and Defining Success

Wed, 19 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Fiasco is an RPG, though it certainly doesn’t look much like one compared to the old RPGs of yesteryear. There are no stats, no challenge rolls, no character sheets beyond a single note-card. There are scenes, yes, and players act out their roles to advance a shared narrative, but no one ever rolls a die to see if they succeed at charming their way past a guard or pushing past a bouncer into the club.

d1 RPG, and Determinism

Mon, 17 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

d1 RPG is a joke, right? Of course it’s a joke. Reading the rules makes it abundantly clear that this is a bit of a spoof. A parody what it means to play an RPG.

Isn’t it?

I mean, it has charts! Table A tells you the results of each side of your d1: if you roll a 1, your action succeeds. That’s it. No failures, no complications, nothing but success.

Chapter 6

Sat, 15 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Black rain was still falling on Moulde Hall as Edmund walked briskly through the winding halls towards his room.

Once Tricknee had showed up, the evening had fallen remarkably quiet save for the loud slurping of soup. When the mansion finally tolled seven, everyone made weak excuses and left to return to their rooms or walk about the grounds, until it was just Tricknee and Edmund who sat at the table. Edmund didn’t remain long.

Parselings, and Stacking the Dice

Fri, 14 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Parselings has a early millennium action-webcomic aesthetic and tone, where players take on the role of the titular Parselings; ordinary folk who have become infected with strange ink-like entities that bond with their hosts and tattoo words on their bodies. Caught between humanity and dark linguistic monstrosities, the Parselings use the magic of these words to heal or harm the infected world.

The world of Parselings is deeply thematic, drawing on ideas of mutual aid, internal versus external definition, freedom versus self-control, and the complexities of communication when others may have already labeled you differently than you label yourself.

Knave, and the Agency of Dice

Wed, 12 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Knave is an OSR (Old Style Ruleset, Old School Renaissance, or Old System Revival — I’ve seen them all) RPG. OSR games hearken back to the olden days of dungeon delving and hack n’ slashing. A system without a pre-built world, Knave is designed to be modular and adaptable to any compatible systems, bestiaries, spellbooks, and adventures.

There is a long and detailed history of OSR gaming, and I won’t go into that now. For now, I want to talk about dice.

Ironsworn, and Clocks

Mon, 10 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Ironsworn, set in an iron-age dark fantasy world, is a game about survival. To quote the game itself: “You will explore untracked wilds, fight desperate battles, forge bonds with isolated communities, and reveal the secrets of this harsh land. Most importantly, you will swear iron vows and see them fulfilled — no matter the cost.”

The mechanics of this game are quite interesting to me, but I want to focus on one specific design choice; everything — from a single combat to the campaign as a whole — is represented by progress tracks.

Chapter 5

Sat, 08 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

As Edmund entered Moulde Hall, Ung stepped forward to address Mrs. Kippling. “Matron’s guests have all decided to have their meals in their rooms.”

Mrs. Kippling’s face turned bright red as her hands began to wring themselves back and forth. “And I suppose they all think I can just fix it all up, no trouble? My gracious, I couldn’t take a tray to each of them — I have to start dinner soon!”

Badger + Coyote, and Tactical Conversation

Fri, 07 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Badger + Coyote is a GM-less dual RPG. One player plays Badger, the other Coyote. Asymmetrical in design, Badger has skills that allow them to do things in the game, such as digging, trapping, and sniffing. Coyote, on the other hand, can only spot, pounce, or make a roll to “speak” a sentence to badger, who can then respond. This is the only way that the two characters can communicate to each other.

After the War, and Performing the End

Wed, 05 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

After the War is, quote: “a tabletop science-fiction role-playing game of memetic horror. Ten years after the galactic war, millions of survivors try to rebuild on the frontier world of Polvo. They seek to guard their new homes from internal strife and the psychic fallout from the war.” This does not do justice to the horrific history that your characters have to deal with.

Among After the War’s inspirations is Fiasco. Like Fiasco, the game proscribes a slightly more regimented method of finding out what happens next, apart from the more laissez-faire method of most RPGs.

Of Grub and Grain, and Skipping the Boring Bits

Mon, 03 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Of Grub and Grain is an RPG supplement — a minigame, if you will — about cooking. Cooking is an often overlooked aspect of RPGs, generally falling into the same pit of uninteresting chores that we would simply rather not take part in. Generally, Cooking is dealt with the same way that eating is; ignoring it completely.

You ever notice how characters in RPGs never go to the bathroom? They never really “get hungry,” either. Oh, they eat of course, but only whenever there’s a plot-important reason to do so. If a player suddenly decides its lunchtime and goes to the local tavern, you better believe a quest-hook is going to be drinking in the corner.

Chapter 4

Sat, 01 Apr 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund opened his eyes to the massive form of Ung staring down at him.

After a sleep brought on by trauma, it is traditional for the sleeper to take a moment to remember where they are and what has happened. Dr. Vendebirk II theorizes in his On Morpheus that this is the brain’s attempt to expunge unpleasant memories of the previous day and being entirely too enthusiastic about it.

Edmund did not have this luxury. Every hour the deafening chime of the clock bell had snapped him awake, both reminding him of his present condition and keeping him from such deep respite.

Fate of the Budayeen, and Behavior Stats

Fri, 31 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Fate of the Budayeen is a fan-made adaptation of the Budayeen setting from George Alec Effinger’s “Marîd Audran” series to FATE, specifically FATE Accelerated. I won’t detail the adaption process here, as Mechante Anemone has already done so. Instead, I want to talk about FATE Accelerated as a system.

FATE Accelerated is a hack of the Core FATE system. Like FATE Core, FATE Accelerated uses aspects to define characters, forcing them to engage with the game narratively as well as mechanically. The changes are fairly minor: simplifying the stunt system, removing multiple stress tracks, removing the Extras mechanic, etc. The largest and most significant difference for our purposes: Unlike Core, the Accelerated ruleset don’t use skills, it uses Approaches.

Into the Odd, and Pretend Intelligence

Wed, 29 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Into the Odd is at once an homage to and a departure from the classic RPGs of the 70s and 80s. In the game, to quote the book: “You are an Explorer, braving the unknown in search of riches, fame, knowledge and power. Most of all, you seek Arcana, strange devices hosting unnatural powers beyond technology. They range from the smallest ring to vast machines.”

The system itself does a lot of very interesting things, but rather than give a full system breakdown, what I want to talk about is how Into the Odd handles stats.

Heroes of Adventure, and the Lie of Stats

Mon, 27 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Heroes of Adventure could easily be called a bit of a D&D clone, but just because it’s high-fantasy doesn’t make it a copycat. The world-building is certainly D&D-like, and your heroes can be the ubiquitous wizards, warriors, rangers, thieves, and clerics; but the system uses a die-size system instead of a flat d20 system. Spells are limited through schools, rather than classes: if you learn Air magic, you can cast Air spells, no matter if you are a cleric, druid, or magi. Religious characters gain Piety Points based on their behavior, which can be spent on divine favors like granting re-rolls or raising the dead.

Chapter 3

Sat, 25 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The Moulde estate, Edmund learned later, was everything on top of and inside of Haggard Hill, in the northern part of the Squatling district. Haggard Hill itself was a full twenty acres of hill covered with old trees, tired grass, and a sagging old gazebo with peeling white paint, all surrounded by thorny hedges and a sharp wrought-iron fence. The heavy black gate cautioned MOULDE HALL in a sharp and spidery lettering, and was framed by statues of two large ravens, their eyes sharp and beaks terrible.

The Dreamer, and Minimalism

Fri, 24 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The Dreamer is a one-word RPG by W. H. Arthur.

No, wait, let me back up. There needs to be some context here.

If I haven’t been explicit about this before, I should explain for the RPG tourists that most RPGs, especially those from the early generations of the hobby, are long. Rule-books, supplements, worldbooks, magazines…you can fill bookshelves with the content from a single game, to say nothing of reprints and revised editions. Books upon books upon words upon words. It can be quite daunting, to say nothing of expensive. People who aren’t ready for it could be pushed away.

The Lighthouse at the End of the Universe, and Writing It Down

Wed, 22 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

The Lighthouse at the End of the Universe belongs to a sub-genre of Solo RPGs, the Journaling RPG. Lighthouse is, quote: “best played at nighttime before bed or for when you can’t sleep. You are the current lighthouse keeper of the Lighthouse. Record your duties, thoughts and observations. Your notes in the logbook will be a record of your time in the lighthouse and the lighthouse itself.”

Journaling RPGs lean heavily into the narrative side of RPGs. A lot of Solo RPGs have some form of journaling or record-keeping as part of their system, but Journaling RPGs force this part of the game to the forefront. The purpose of the game is rarely to beat the Foozle or get the McGuffin, but rather the act of journaling itself.

Into the Woods, and Practicing

Mon, 20 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Into the Woods is an RPG wherein your only goal is survival. Akin to the stories of Robinson Caruso, Swiss Family Robinson, and Castaway; and taking inspiration from games like Aground or Don’t Starve; Into the Woods is focused on the challenges of keeping yourself alive in a hostile ever-changing environment.

An interesting idea in itself; the cliche RPG experience is one of “Humanity vs. Monstrosity,” where evil enacts its will on the innocent, and the heroic players step in to save them. It’s perhaps unsurprising, then, that RPGs would start to explore the other kinds of storytelling, such as “Humanity vs. Society,” or in this case, “Humanity vs. Nature.”

Chapter 2

Sat, 18 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Edmund became a Moulde when he was eight years old, after lunch, on a day not otherwise particularly different from any other day.

Spring was coming to a close and the harsh sunlight of summer was struggling to slip through the giant black cloud that filled the sky. Edmund was sitting on his stiff bed, writing a poem about the holes that riddled the warped window shutters.

Edmund had taken to poetry. When he was seven, he read a book titled The Mechanics and Structure of Verse: a Primer to the Aspiring Poetic by Sir Peeres Ekes. Years later, after he had outgrown its novice lessons — even considering the book’s inconsistencies, overly simplistic structure, condescending view of poetry as an art-form, and multiple outright lies — he still held a soft spot in his heart for the book, considering where it led him.

Runecairn, and Video Game Influence

Fri, 17 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Based on Cairn and Into the Odd, Runecairn is draped in Norse and Viking mythology, and inspired heavily by Dark Souls and Bloodborne games. There are re-skinned estus flasks, immortality, near continuous combat, even rules about bonfires. For all else that it does, Runecairn wears its inspirations on its sleeve.

That the game is obviously inspired at least in part by video games is not uncommon. Table-top RPGs have always had major influence on video game RPGs; consider the deluge of D&D RPG video games like Pool of Radiance, Eye of the Beholder, Dark Sun, Ravenloft, Menzoberanzan, and Balder’s Gate — and that’s just a fraction of one license. Fallout was inspired by GURPS. Vampire: The Masquerade has had multiple video game titles. Even non-licensed game series like Magic Candle, Ultima, Wizardry, and Might and Magic all owe more to tabletop RPGs than any of their video game kin.

Cobwebs, and GM-Less Games

Wed, 15 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Cobwebs is an RPG about, quote: “reluctant investigators uncovering terrifying conspiracies and getting far more than they bargained for. It combines elements of noir, horror, and science fiction to create a uniquely haunting mystery built collaboratively.”

Cobwebs centers around two specific characters: the Darling, and the Missing. The Darling is the “investigator,” the person who — in their search for the never-present Missing — gets pulled deeper and deeper into the truth of a conspiracy. Think Agent Cooper and Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks, or Leo and Naadirah in Mute.

Escape from Dino Island, and Scions

Mon, 13 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0500

Escape from Dino Island is, quote: “a thrilling adventure game about intrepid heroes trapped on an island overrun with creatures from a lost age — dinosaurs! Players take on the role of everyday people who are brave and competent, but also in over their head. The game is designed to help you create the kind of stories that are full of action and suspense, but in which fighting is rarely a good option. Will you escape with your life? And what kind of person will you become in your quest to survive? There’s only one way to find out…”

Chapter 1

Sat, 11 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Sir Edmund Moulde, a gentleman for whom no introduction could be either required or sufficient, is a mysterious and complicated figure. For one who so singularly affected the destiny of nations, very little is known for certain.

This is not to say we know nothing. While countless documents, diaries, and letters were lost in the Great Brackenburg Fire of 1954, every recovered document written by his hand has undergone years of study and interpretation by the great scholars of our time.

I Got Hit By A Meteor & Was Reincarnated as the Hero of a Tabletop RPG, and Fiat

Fri, 10 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0600

I Got Hit By A Meteor & Was Reincarnated as the Hero of a Tabletop RPG is an RPG and I am not typing all that out again. I’ma call it Meteor.

Meteor is purportedly a redesign of D&D 5th edition rules, with the framework detailed in the title; the players are dead, having been crushed by a meteor, and the devil has offered to redeem the players’ souls if they beat him in a game of 5th edition D&D.

Endless Lands, and There is No Such Thing As An RPG

Wed, 08 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Endless Lands is a fantastical RPG about traveling across the titular lands. As laid out in the rule-book, the game begins with everyone sitting down to talk about what kind of game they want to play, and then building the world that allows them to do so. The campaign’s Great Threat is discussed and decided on, all before the characters are created. Character creation is not particularly difficult, and the rules are simple enough to learn quickly and master easily.

Lancer, and Why We Play

Mon, 06 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Lancer is, to quote the book: “a mix of gritty, mud-and-lasers military science fiction and mythic science fantasy, where conscript pilots mix ranks with flying aces, mercenary guns-for-hire brawl with secretive corpo-state agents, and relativistic paladins cross thermal lances with causality-breaking, unknowable beings…players adopt the roles of mechanized chassis pilots — mech pilots — comrades together in a galaxy of danger and hope.”

The system itself is quite rich. With a defensible claim to the most strategically balanced RPG currently available, Lancer is a system that requires careful consideration of forethought, resource management, teamwork, and luck. There are ranges, area-of-attacks, damage types, conditions, statuses, hit points, stress points, structure points, core powers, and more. By managing to make all the complex economies interact and play off each other in a dizzying array of complexity, Lancer manages to make each combat a puzzle.

FATE, and Ludo-Narrative

Fri, 03 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0600

I described FATE as a system earlier; but my description was a poor one, abbreviated to get to the point I wanted to make. The actual rules of FATE are more detailed and interesting than I perhaps first made them sound.

Characters in FATE Core have two fundamental things that influence their abilities: aspects, and skills. Skills are simple enough; they’re what your character is good at and have a numerical value from 0 to +5, usually. Aspects are simple sentences that apply to your character. “The best star-pilot in the galaxy” is an aspect, for example. Or perhaps “Never gonna take no guff from nobody.” They can be quotes, phrases, explanations, descriptions; anything the player and GM agree describes the character narratively, rather than numerically.

Blades in the Dark, and the Two Narratives

Wed, 01 Mar 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Richly Gothic in tone, Blades in the Dark sees you and your fellows playing scoundrels in a wrought-iron steampunk city, working together to score heists, claim fortunes, and establish yourselves in positions of power in the city. The world is well designed, providing a fertile ground for intrigues, cloaks-and-daggers, and unseen dangers. Character design is detailed, including character sheets for each individual as well as the gang as a whole. You pick your backstory, select your class, put points into your skills, and set out to make or take your fortune.

GURPS, and the RPG War

Mon, 27 Feb 2023 00:00:00 -0600

GURPS is technically not an RPG, but an RPG System. It’s a distinction without much of a difference; an RPG is at once distinct-from and inexorably-linked to the ruleset used to play it. It could be said that D&D is a system, while settings like Greyhawk, the Forgotten Realms, or Ravenloft are the actual RPGs.

At the same time you could call Greyhawk a game setting, and say that The Keep On The Borderlands module that you’re playing is the actual RPG. Or you could call The Keep On The Borderlands a pre-built adventure, and it’s not until you and your friends are sitting around a table rolling dice that there is an actual RPG, but that’s mostly a matter of taste.

What If We Kissed, and the Great Divide

Fri, 24 Feb 2023 00:00:00 -0600

What If We Kissed calls itself the “same genre of thing as Dungeons & Dragons,” and I understand the mistake.

As I said before, for better or worse D&D is the entry point for most anyone who is curious about RPGs. Unless they have a friend who is both well versed in RPGs and believes D&D is an imperfect introduction to the medium, a newcomer is first going to take a look at D&D. There’s no avoiding it.

Dungeons & Dragons, and Defining our Terms

Wed, 22 Feb 2023 00:00:00 -0600

Dungeons & Dragons, as you may know, is an RPG.

No, that’s doing it a disservice. D&D is the RPG.

Arguably the first of its kind, D&D certainly became the definitive example of the medium. It has dominated the cultural dialogue about RPGs to the point that even if you know nothing about RPGs, you’ve still heard of Dungeons & Dragons. It’s difficult to explain how ubiquitous D&D is as a concept, not just a game in and of itself: It has spawned books, clones, parodies, movies, and even a children’s cartoon show, although we can probably blame that last one on the ethos of the 80s more than any inherent merit.

What Is This?

Mon, 20 Feb 2023 00:00:00 -0600

You probably have an image in your head about what Tabletop Role-playing Games “are.” Even if you’ve never played one, you have a shape in your head, defined enough that you can see a group sitting around a table with dice, paper, pencils, and a cardboard screen and say “ah yes, that is an RPG. I saw it on Stranger Things.”

About

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

So…what is this, really?

Thing is, I had to take a good long look at myself recently,¹ and I learned a few things about myself. Here are some things I honestly believe:

I believe there is only so much time in your life; time that cannot be regained if lost or repaid if stolen. I believe there is nothing more precious than this.

I believe that writing, as an industry, has been unfairly subjected to the same unjust and unfair pressures as the society into which I was born. I believe that I have been starved of access to the rich diversity of writers and artists that a healthy culture could and should support.

Essays

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Some non-fiction musings and thoughts about things.

Ko-Fi

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

My work is, and shall always remain, free on this website. I don’t believe in gate-keeping my work from people who don’t have the money to spare on subsidizing my art.

That said, I do like food…

If you like what I’m doing, and want to make sure I don’t starve to death, please consider leaving me a small donation here, on my Ko-Fi account.

If you can’t spend a dollar, no worries. Instead consider spending a minute telling a friend about my work; what you liked, what you didn’t like, or even what you could have done better!

Novels

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

The Fall of the Empire of Ever and Always, Vol XI

Months before Game of Thrones was an HBO blockbuster, I came up with an idea that has become my personal White Whale for about a decade. Drawing inspiration from Dune, Fading Suns, and similar medieval/sci-fi, I created a setting where the universe was finally dying. The stars were exploding one by one, and a once great Galactic Empire crumbled to dust as petty warlords squabbled for food, priests called out to a god-emperor who had long since died, and scholars fell to despair as they learned of their inescapable fate.

Poems

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

With Kindness

With a knife

I have cut the cake into slices.

Little slices, big slices, some get the flowers.

Here is your slice, here is mine.

You cannot have my slice. It is for me. That one is yours.

Aren’t you grateful to me?

And my knife?

Original Post

With Kindness

Cemetery of Swords

This poem was made using the solo RPG Cemetery of Swords, by Efarrisgames.

Gentleman Bandit

This poem was made using the solo RPG Gentleman Bandit, by Allison Arth. I used the Mode variant, and played three times, rolling on the Poker Play table after each.

RPGs

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Manifest RPG Design Blog

About

After reading so many RPGs, playing so many RPGs, and thinking about everything that is the medium of RPG, I decided I needed to put my money where my mouth is, and actually create an RPG. The following are the posts of me detailing my thought processes.

NOTE: All references to games and RPG systems are to be considered “as of writing.” New versions of games might render some of my comments inaccurate.

Short Stories

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Here is a collection of all my short stories:

Last Dispatch

This story was made using the solo RPG Bright and Terrible, by Rose on Mars.

Bright and Terrible

This story was made using the solo RPG Bright and Terrible, by Rose on Mars.

The Game Moves

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

This story was made using the solo RPG Last Dispatch, by Symbolic City. I used the Freestation Tethys template, to ensure quality structure.

Event	Roll	Cards	Result	Rescue/Promote	Discard
Background	3	5c,3c,6d	Opposition	6d	3c
1	2	7c,3s	Opposition	3s	7c
2	5	Jh,7h,6s,As,3d	Intervention	As	Jh,3d
3	3	Kd,5s,2h	Intervention	Kd	5s,2h
4	6	Kc,2c,Ac,Qs,6h,5d	Assembly	Kc	2c,Qs,6h,5d
5	3	Kh,4h,2d	Opposition	Kh	4h,2d
6	6	Jd,7d,Ad,8h,3h,6c	Intervention	Jd - Ad	3h,7d,6c
7	3	Ks,Js,7s	Assertion	Ks	Js
8	5	Qh,9h,5h,Qd,Jc	Intervention	Qd	5h
9	6	Qc,10c,8c,4c,8s,2s	Opposition	Qc	4c,2s
10	4	9d,8d,4d,9c	Opposition	9c	4d
11	6	10c,9c,4c,10h,Ah,10d	Intervention	Ah	10d,4s
12	6	8s,3s,8h,7h,6d,8c	Assembly	8c	7h,6d,3s
13	5	Qh,9h,10c,9c,9d	Intervention	Qh	9h,10c,9c
14	4	10s,7s,8d,5c	Intervention	5c	7s,8d
15	4	9s,6s,As,Ac	Opposition	Ac	6s
16	2	10h,10s	Opposition	10h	10s
17	1	8c	Assertion	8c
18	5	9s,8s,9d,8h,5c	Assembly	9d	9s,8h,5c
19	2	As,9d	Opposition	As	9d
20	4	END

B Homestation Defense has ignored recent Gleaner attempts to adjust resource distribution, taking their old share regardless. 1 Defense resists demands from Lifeboat Corp to acquiesce to new distribution 2 Spy Researcher gives preliminary research to Lifeboat Corp, who reveals political machinations and the coming economic crisis. Researchers suddenly viewed as political, Lifeboat Corp seen as “voice of the people.” 3 Head of Mining Kd holds “science round-table” with members from scientists and Lifeboats, revealing new tech/supplies/food, promising a new and better life for the station, urging unity. 4 General Ks calls a summit to officially take supply distribution out of the Gleaner’s hands and into the military. Public hearings result in new shares of supplies. 5 Head Researcher Kh speaks out against gleaner’s new tech aims, as the sentience of the planet’s ecosystem is still in doubt. 6 Scoop! Kd is ousted by vote of no confidence, Jd takes over and increases Researcher supplies to keep conversation going, while reducing Military to keep them from acting instead of discussing 7 Newly elected Chief of Lifeboat Corp uses Manifesto speech to remind station how vital the lifeboat corp is, which several agitators and radicals turn into threats. 8 General Kc is assassinated. Qd, newly formed owner of organics collection, is challenged by Xenoethicists, delaying if not halting completely operations, suggesting they are responsible. 9 Second in Command Qc is ordered to turn Lifeboat Corp into occupied martial law industry to maintain function in light of threats and assassination. 10 Gleaners push back, reducing Military’s supplies and reducing their effectiveness 11 Military withdraws defense protections from scientists during researches, blaming gleaner cutbacks 12 Peace talks attempt to find new accord with distribution and resolve ethics. Gleaner collection program is halted, giving ethicists time to study 13 Gleaners protest and refuse cooperation, but Military interceeds and ensures Xenos get their due. Gleaners seen as petty and weak. 14 Open conflict begins, but the Lifeboat Corp threatens life-support shutdown and calms with the nuclear option 15 Scoop! The Lifeboat Corp is now throwing their weight around and is claiming judicial control over the station, demanding the Defense stepdown/surrender their role 16 Xenos develop new food source from planet, challenging Lifeboat Corp’s monopoly 17 Military refuses to back down, public address threatening violence if they are not respected 18 Violent riots break out on station. Lifeboat Corp space several decks 19 Gleaners sabatoge their own equipment and wipe the database of their tech. Station is abandoned

Welcome

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Welcome one and all, to my collection of all my books, short stories, posts, musings, and other little oddscrawls that crawled across my brain.

If you’re new here, you’re probably wondering where to start. If you want my recommendations:

The Macabre Tale of Edmund Moulde (Novel): This is the book I think of when I wonder what is my best work. Is it? I have no idea, but it certainly underwent the longest period of revision and polish out of everything I’ve done. If anyone were to ask what story I was most proud of, this is certainly in the top three.
The Chains of Gods (Novel): A more experimental work inspired by John Gardner’s Grendel. It explores the philosophies of morality and questions the ethical abilities of those who have more power than others. Can anyone ever be good if there is a power imbalance? And if so, what does that look like?
The RPG Medium (RPGs): I love tabletop RPGs, and I’ve always believed there was something “more” to them than just a fun kids game. In this treatise, I explore the core concept of what an RPG “is,” and how — as an artistic medium in its own right — it can be used to fulfill and enrich our lives.
The Watch in the Sand (Short Story): This is my origin story. I half-cringe at it, but it’s the first work I finished and published while I was still wrapped in the complex struggles of depression and crippling social anxiety, so it’s kinda symbolic of my being able to overcome those obstacles in my life.

Of course, you are free to browse wherever you like, but these are some of my favorites. The rest is a mix of good, middling, and experimental work that I’ve been plugging away at for over fifteen years. I upload regularly — or try to, internet availability permitting — on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday of every week.