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.

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.

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.

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.

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!”

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?”

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!”

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.”

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!

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!”