When I was a kid, summer holidays seemed to last forever and I had all the time in the world to do everything I wanted. These days, not so much; each summer seems to pass more quickly than the last. I feel like we only just opened Pulp Mill Press to submissions for the Libram Mysterium anthology, and now there are only two weeks left.
So if you're planning to submit a story and haven't done so yet, now's the time to finish it off and get it in. If you are working on a story, but don't anticipate being able to finish by the September 1st deadline, email me at pulpmillpress4@gmail.com and we can work something out. Go ahead, flood our inbox with submissions.
Welcome Back to the Labyrinth
"We have been away far too long, my friends," Ashoka declared, his face lit by the eldritch green glow of his staff. "But we have finally returned to the labyrinth whence our adventures first began."
"Just imagine the treasures that lie within," said Yun Tai, flexing his mighty muscles. "Wealth enough to live in luxury the rest of our days."
"And arcane artifacts of great power," added Ashoka his words dripping with avarice. "All ours for the taking!"
"Umm...guys?" Nysa interrupted. "Do you hear something dripping?"
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Saturday, August 17, 2013
What D&D Character Are You?
Here's a fun little personality survey to determine what type of character you would be. It's pretty detailed, with 129 questions, although many of them didn't include a response that actually represented my beliefs or predilections. So, what kind of D&D character would you be?
I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Wizard (7th Level)
Ability Scores:
Strength-14
Dexterity-15
Constitution-15
Intelligence-15
Wisdom-12
Charisma-11
Alignment:
Chaotic Good A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he's kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society. Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit. However, chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.
Race:
Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.
Class:
Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art. When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard's strength is her spells, everything else is secondary. She learns new spells as she experiments and grows in experience, and she can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate her spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way. A wizard can call a familiar- a small, magical, animal companion that serves her. With a high Intelligence, wizards are capable of casting very high levels of spells.
Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)
I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Wizard (7th Level)
Ability Scores:
Strength-14
Dexterity-15
Constitution-15
Intelligence-15
Wisdom-12
Charisma-11
Alignment:
Chaotic Good A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He makes his own way, but he's kind and benevolent. He believes in goodness and right but has little use for laws and regulations. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society. Chaotic good is the best alignment you can be because it combines a good heart with a free spirit. However, chaotic good can be a dangerous alignment when it disrupts the order of society and punishes those who do well for themselves.
Race:
Humans are the most adaptable of the common races. Short generations and a penchant for migration and conquest have made them physically diverse as well. Humans are often unorthodox in their dress, sporting unusual hairstyles, fanciful clothes, tattoos, and the like.
Class:
Wizards are arcane spellcasters who depend on intensive study to create their magic. To wizards, magic is not a talent but a difficult, rewarding art. When they are prepared for battle, wizards can use their spells to devastating effect. When caught by surprise, they are vulnerable. The wizard's strength is her spells, everything else is secondary. She learns new spells as she experiments and grows in experience, and she can also learn them from other wizards. In addition, over time a wizard learns to manipulate her spells so they go farther, work better, or are improved in some other way. A wizard can call a familiar- a small, magical, animal companion that serves her. With a high Intelligence, wizards are capable of casting very high levels of spells.
Find out What Kind of Dungeons and Dragons Character Would You Be?, courtesy of Easydamus (e-mail)
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Unboxing the Bones
This afternoon while in the midst of editing stories for Libram Mysterium, which are coming in at a steady pace, my long-awaited Reaper Bones Kickstarter shipment arrived. A disciplined man would have finished the story he was currently editing. I am not such a man.
I did restrain myself enough to take pictures before ripping into the package and strewing the contents about the house, so I thought I'd share what a Vampire level box of miniatures looks like:
1. The 11-pound carton that UPS delivered to my door:
2. The box of Bones miniatures and the three miniature storage cases that were add-ons to the Kickstarter:
3. The insides of one of the storage cases (150 figure capacity):
4. And finally, the miniatures themselves (click to embiggen):
It took me nearly an hour to open each individually-wrapped miniature and set them up. There are still some unopened packages in the background consisting of a small horde of goblins and rats that I still haven't opened.
This should be enough miniatures to keep me painting for the near future. Of course there is still the odious task of washing and prepping each one and removing mold-lines. To quote Homer Simpson: "Can't somebody else do it?"
Well, back to editing. Keep those submissions coming, I'm starting to catch up!
I did restrain myself enough to take pictures before ripping into the package and strewing the contents about the house, so I thought I'd share what a Vampire level box of miniatures looks like:
1. The 11-pound carton that UPS delivered to my door:
2. The box of Bones miniatures and the three miniature storage cases that were add-ons to the Kickstarter:
3. The insides of one of the storage cases (150 figure capacity):
4. And finally, the miniatures themselves (click to embiggen):
It took me nearly an hour to open each individually-wrapped miniature and set them up. There are still some unopened packages in the background consisting of a small horde of goblins and rats that I still haven't opened.
This should be enough miniatures to keep me painting for the near future. Of course there is still the odious task of washing and prepping each one and removing mold-lines. To quote Homer Simpson: "Can't somebody else do it?"
Well, back to editing. Keep those submissions coming, I'm starting to catch up!
Monday, July 1, 2013
Pulp Mill Press Now Open for Submissions
You know what I miss? Pulp adventure stories. The sort of dark, gritty tales with morally ambiguous characters that were made popular in the 1920's and '30's. They've sort of fallen out of fashion these days - at least in short fiction markets. The most recently published good short story anthology I read was the Thieves World series.
This is bad news if these are the sorts of stories you like to read. It's even worse news if these are the sorts of stories you like to write. There are few venues for speculative short fiction these days, and even fewer of them are receptive to heroic fantasy and weird fiction. That's why Tim Shorts (Gothridge Manor), Ken Harrison (The Rusty Battleaxe), Boric G (The Dwarven Stronghold), and I decided to form Pulp Mill Press. We want to publish the sorts of stories that we love to read and we're putting the call out for stories to be included in our first anthology, Libram Mysterium. We know that many of the members of the OSR community share our love of weird fiction and we're hoping that at least some of you are writers as well as gamers and will contribute a story.
The pay isn't great. Heck, it's non-existent; all we're offering in compensation is a complimentary electronic copy of the finished book. The reason for this is that we don't have funding to buy stories, and we aren't in the position to make that kind of personal investment, so our plan is to hopefully raise enough money through the sale of Libram Mysterium to offer page-rates for our next anthology. Eventually, we hope to be able to pay professional rates. We are eager to work with new and emerging authors, to grow along with you, and to fill a much-need gap in the publishing industry.
We like our warriors mighty-thewed, our rogues cunning, our sorcerers sinister and our horrors cosmic. If you can tell a story with well-developed characters and fill us with wonder and dread we want to see it!
Please visit the Pulp Mill Press home page and submission guidelines for more information. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact us at pulpmillpress4@gmail.com.
This is bad news if these are the sorts of stories you like to read. It's even worse news if these are the sorts of stories you like to write. There are few venues for speculative short fiction these days, and even fewer of them are receptive to heroic fantasy and weird fiction. That's why Tim Shorts (Gothridge Manor), Ken Harrison (The Rusty Battleaxe), Boric G (The Dwarven Stronghold), and I decided to form Pulp Mill Press. We want to publish the sorts of stories that we love to read and we're putting the call out for stories to be included in our first anthology, Libram Mysterium. We know that many of the members of the OSR community share our love of weird fiction and we're hoping that at least some of you are writers as well as gamers and will contribute a story.
The pay isn't great. Heck, it's non-existent; all we're offering in compensation is a complimentary electronic copy of the finished book. The reason for this is that we don't have funding to buy stories, and we aren't in the position to make that kind of personal investment, so our plan is to hopefully raise enough money through the sale of Libram Mysterium to offer page-rates for our next anthology. Eventually, we hope to be able to pay professional rates. We are eager to work with new and emerging authors, to grow along with you, and to fill a much-need gap in the publishing industry.
We like our warriors mighty-thewed, our rogues cunning, our sorcerers sinister and our horrors cosmic. If you can tell a story with well-developed characters and fill us with wonder and dread we want to see it!
Please visit the Pulp Mill Press home page and submission guidelines for more information. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact us at pulpmillpress4@gmail.com.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
Session Report: Canopus Rising
I've had a bit of a gaming hiatus lately, after my group of six years recently disbanded. Nonetheless I had a great one-on-one Call of Cthulhu Skype session with Shane Mangus, guru of the Outer Dark. Talk about pressure - maybe for my encore I should present a physics lecture to Stephen Hawking. Anyhow, much fun was had and, for once, no player character died or went insane (but nearly all the NPCs did). I present for your consideration: Canopus Rising...
The hills west of Arkham shelter deep valleys thickly-wooded and secret. Farms dot the gentler slopes with moss-covered cottages and sagging barns, and the stillness of a languorous afternoon is filled with the thick droning of flies. Richard Rafferty, freelance journalist, arrived in this torpid, lonely country to to investigate a recent report of cattle mutilation in the area.
Rafferty was met at the train station by local veterinarian, Dr. Peter Cross, who drove him out to the farm of Harley Jenkins, the farmer who just a few days earlier discovered one of his cows dead by unusual circumstances: three deep incisions on each side of the body, and a three-inch-diameter hole drilled into the top of the animals skull. The brains had been completely removed.
Nor was this the first time that Jenkins had suffered such a loss. Five years earlier he and his neighbour, Nate Kavanagh had lost animals to similar circumstances. Indeed, as Harley Jenkins was happy to disclose, such mutilations had been occurring every five years, like clockwork, for the past fifty years - starting around the time that big meteorite crashed in the Sawnee Creek valley.
After photographing the scene, Dr. Cross dropped Rafferty off in town to check into a hotel, with a promise to pick him up first thing in the morning. At a local diner Rafferty gossiped with the waitress about the incident and she told him that fifteen years ago two local boys, Mark Tilson and Billy Dufresne had been seen hiking up Sawnee Creek towards Crater Lake and the desolate surrounding area known locally as The Scar. Neither boy was ever seen again.
After supper, Rafferty checked in at the police station and introduced himself to the sheriff, Al Corrigan, who was clearly frustrated by the recurrence of the mutilations and his lack of leads as to their perpetrators. "These cows weren't killed by no animal I ever seen, and I can only guess it must've been a man that did it. But I just can't imagine anyone from hearabouts doing something like that," he said.
The next morning as Rafferty and Dr. Cross were driving out to visit 'The Scar' they were pulled over by the sheriff, who asked the doctor to head out to Nate Kavanagh's farm - four of his sheep had been killed in the night. Kavanagh found the dead sheep, killed in exactly the same way as Jenkin's cow, early that morning in their pen near the house with the rest of the herd. Kavanagh said he never heard any sound of commotion or alarm from the sheep during the night.
After leaving Kavanagh's farm, Rafferty and Cross drove out to Jack Tilson's place - his son was one of the boys who disappeared fifteen years ago. Over several glasses of home-brewed whiskey, Tilson told the story of how he'd led the search party looking for the boys. He'd been scouting ahead, alone, along the shore of Crater Lake when he felt a strange compulsion that drew him towards a cave entrance. At the mouth of the cave he smelled something like the musty, acrid smell of a snake hibernaculum combined with rotting meat. So great was his fear and loathing that he shook off his torpor and fled the area without investigating further. To his lasting shame, he was so unmanned by the experience that he never told anyone else about the cave and he's never ventured down into The Scar ever since.
Rafferty convinced Tilson to lead them to Crater Lake and show them the cave entrance, and perhaps gain some closure on his son's disappearance. Tilson took his .30-.30 off the wall and guided Rafferty and Cross on a hike over the ridge to the west and down into Sawnee Creek valley. They spent several hours hiking north up the creek bed to the shore of Crater Lake. The thick vegetation abruptly died off, as did the droning of flies when they entered the desolate area known as The Scar - a broad swath cut through the valley where the meteorite had plowed through fifty years ago, which had never regrown. Sure enough, concealed by rock outcrop was a cave entrance on the cliff face on the lake's eastern shore. Approaching the cave the party was overwhelmed by the sickening smell from within, though Tilson said he didn't feel the same pull in his mind that drew him there the first time. They entered the dark cave and Rafferty heard crunching beneath his feet. Shining the electric torch down, he saw that the cave floor was littered with animal bones - birds, rabbits, foxes, cats - and Jack Tilson suddenly gasped then fell to his knees and picked up a small human skull with a hole drilled in the top. Next to it was another adolescent human skeleton. Mark's and Billy's fate was finally discovered.
The party collected up the boys' bones and hiked back to Tilson's place. Upon arrival they found that Dr. Cross's truck had been vandalized: the hood and doors had been torn off, and the engine and battery was missing. Just then Sheriff Corrigan arrived and reported that John Crenshaw's tractor had been vandalized and destroyed. They were able to make out where the truck engine had been dragged into the bush, and the sheriff, along with Jack Tilson, Dr. Cross, and Rafferty followed the tracks north along the ridge parallel to Sawnee Creek. By early evening they had followed the tracks to north of Crater Lake towards Ashton Butte. They began their ascent of the butte, and reached the summit just after sunset. There, they found a pile of mechanical parts that had been assembled to form what looked like some kind of battery-powered transmitter pointing directly at the skyline due south.
Just then, Rafferty heard a soft scratching like claw on rock and turned to see an enormous, white-carapaced spider like creature scuttling toward them, snapping its pincer-like claws. Dr. Cross feinted dead away at the sight of the creature, Rafferty and the sheriff drew their pistols and snapped off quick shots while Tilson drew a bead on the creature with his rifle and hit it, cracking the carapace badly. The creature veered towards Tilson and grasped him in its pincers, lifting him, screaming, off the ground. Rafferty and the sheriff continued to fire their pistols at the creature, to little effect - their bullets ricocheting off the hard bony carapace.
Tilson's screams increased in pitch and terror as the creature lowered a writhing, toothy proboscis onto his head and began to bore into the bone. The sheriff dropped his pistol and grabbed Tilson's abandoned rifle and continued to shoot at the beast, producing some more small cracks in the carapace. Tilson's screams suddenly cut short as the creature began to feed - the proboscis bulging sickeningly as it sucked up his brains. The creature dropped Tilson's lifeless body then advanced on the sheriff who swung his rifle like a club to fend the beast off.
Meanwhile, Rafferty, who had fired his pistol empty, dragged the unconscious Dr. Cross behind a rock outcrop and spent a few moments reloading. By this time, sheriff Corrigan had run out of luck and had been caught up in the monster's embrace. His brainless corpse soon joined that of Jack Tilson's. The creature's proboscis probed the air, as if smelling for the other two intruders, then it began making its way toward the outcrop behind which Rafferty was hidden. His pistol now reloaded, Rafferty braced his arm against the outcrop and took careful aim at the creature's fleshy proboscis. He pulled the trigger and the proboscis erupted in a sickening slew of green ichor and partially-digested grey matter. The creature collapsed, rapidly hemorrhaging from its maimed proboscis, and quickly died.
Rafferty slapped Dr. Cross awake, and the two of them made carefully made their way back to Jack Tilson's place, where they notified authorities of the deaths of Jack Tilson and Sheriff Corrigan. The next morning they accompanied a party back up to Ashton Butte and found that the creature had dissolved, leaving only a pile of disarticulated pieces of exoskeleton.
Later, back in Arkham, Rafferty read, in the Boston Herald, of a rare astronomical event: the star Canopus would be visible in the northern hemisphere for the first time in centuries and could be seen as the brightest star on the southern horizon. Exactly where the jury-rigged transmitter was pointed.
Creatures from Canopus - Lesser Independent Race
It had a narrow, segmented torso from which extended eight long, multi-jointed appendages, each terminating in claw-like pincers. The thing was wholly contained within a bone-hard carapace and, instead of a head, its proximal end bore a long, flexible proboscis, pale white, which writhed like a maggot, with a toothy serrated maw at its end.
These large spider-like creatures are native to the Canopus system, located in the Carina constellation. They spread from world to world, stripping it of resources and their scouts travel the galaxy, hibernating in stasis within meteoroids for millenia, until chance brings them to a new world. Should that planet have suitable resources for their needs, the scout will construct a transmitter and send a signal back to Canopus so that colonization can commence.
The creatures feed by luring their prey within reach with a hypnotic psychic siren call, then hold it tight with their pincers while boring through the skull with its rasp-like proboscis. This creates a three-inch-diameter hole in the skull through which the victim's brains are sucked out.
CREATURE FROM CANOPUS, the Space Spiders
STR 5d6 (17-18)
CON 4d6 (14)
SIZ 6d6 (21)
INT 4d6 (14)
POW 3d6 (10-11)
DEX 3d6+6 (16-17)
Move 8/10 (swim)
Avg Damage Bonus: +1d6
Weapons: Claws 40%, 1d6 + damage bonus
Proboscis 100% 1d4 boring, 1d6 brain sucking on the subsequent
round and each round thereafter.
Psychic Siren Call (Roll POW vs. POW on resistance table to hypnotize prey and lure it close)
Armour: 6-point carapace
Sanity Loss: 0/1d6
The hills west of Arkham shelter deep valleys thickly-wooded and secret. Farms dot the gentler slopes with moss-covered cottages and sagging barns, and the stillness of a languorous afternoon is filled with the thick droning of flies. Richard Rafferty, freelance journalist, arrived in this torpid, lonely country to to investigate a recent report of cattle mutilation in the area.
Rafferty was met at the train station by local veterinarian, Dr. Peter Cross, who drove him out to the farm of Harley Jenkins, the farmer who just a few days earlier discovered one of his cows dead by unusual circumstances: three deep incisions on each side of the body, and a three-inch-diameter hole drilled into the top of the animals skull. The brains had been completely removed.
Nor was this the first time that Jenkins had suffered such a loss. Five years earlier he and his neighbour, Nate Kavanagh had lost animals to similar circumstances. Indeed, as Harley Jenkins was happy to disclose, such mutilations had been occurring every five years, like clockwork, for the past fifty years - starting around the time that big meteorite crashed in the Sawnee Creek valley.
After photographing the scene, Dr. Cross dropped Rafferty off in town to check into a hotel, with a promise to pick him up first thing in the morning. At a local diner Rafferty gossiped with the waitress about the incident and she told him that fifteen years ago two local boys, Mark Tilson and Billy Dufresne had been seen hiking up Sawnee Creek towards Crater Lake and the desolate surrounding area known locally as The Scar. Neither boy was ever seen again.
After supper, Rafferty checked in at the police station and introduced himself to the sheriff, Al Corrigan, who was clearly frustrated by the recurrence of the mutilations and his lack of leads as to their perpetrators. "These cows weren't killed by no animal I ever seen, and I can only guess it must've been a man that did it. But I just can't imagine anyone from hearabouts doing something like that," he said.
The next morning as Rafferty and Dr. Cross were driving out to visit 'The Scar' they were pulled over by the sheriff, who asked the doctor to head out to Nate Kavanagh's farm - four of his sheep had been killed in the night. Kavanagh found the dead sheep, killed in exactly the same way as Jenkin's cow, early that morning in their pen near the house with the rest of the herd. Kavanagh said he never heard any sound of commotion or alarm from the sheep during the night.
After leaving Kavanagh's farm, Rafferty and Cross drove out to Jack Tilson's place - his son was one of the boys who disappeared fifteen years ago. Over several glasses of home-brewed whiskey, Tilson told the story of how he'd led the search party looking for the boys. He'd been scouting ahead, alone, along the shore of Crater Lake when he felt a strange compulsion that drew him towards a cave entrance. At the mouth of the cave he smelled something like the musty, acrid smell of a snake hibernaculum combined with rotting meat. So great was his fear and loathing that he shook off his torpor and fled the area without investigating further. To his lasting shame, he was so unmanned by the experience that he never told anyone else about the cave and he's never ventured down into The Scar ever since.
Rafferty convinced Tilson to lead them to Crater Lake and show them the cave entrance, and perhaps gain some closure on his son's disappearance. Tilson took his .30-.30 off the wall and guided Rafferty and Cross on a hike over the ridge to the west and down into Sawnee Creek valley. They spent several hours hiking north up the creek bed to the shore of Crater Lake. The thick vegetation abruptly died off, as did the droning of flies when they entered the desolate area known as The Scar - a broad swath cut through the valley where the meteorite had plowed through fifty years ago, which had never regrown. Sure enough, concealed by rock outcrop was a cave entrance on the cliff face on the lake's eastern shore. Approaching the cave the party was overwhelmed by the sickening smell from within, though Tilson said he didn't feel the same pull in his mind that drew him there the first time. They entered the dark cave and Rafferty heard crunching beneath his feet. Shining the electric torch down, he saw that the cave floor was littered with animal bones - birds, rabbits, foxes, cats - and Jack Tilson suddenly gasped then fell to his knees and picked up a small human skull with a hole drilled in the top. Next to it was another adolescent human skeleton. Mark's and Billy's fate was finally discovered.
The party collected up the boys' bones and hiked back to Tilson's place. Upon arrival they found that Dr. Cross's truck had been vandalized: the hood and doors had been torn off, and the engine and battery was missing. Just then Sheriff Corrigan arrived and reported that John Crenshaw's tractor had been vandalized and destroyed. They were able to make out where the truck engine had been dragged into the bush, and the sheriff, along with Jack Tilson, Dr. Cross, and Rafferty followed the tracks north along the ridge parallel to Sawnee Creek. By early evening they had followed the tracks to north of Crater Lake towards Ashton Butte. They began their ascent of the butte, and reached the summit just after sunset. There, they found a pile of mechanical parts that had been assembled to form what looked like some kind of battery-powered transmitter pointing directly at the skyline due south.
Just then, Rafferty heard a soft scratching like claw on rock and turned to see an enormous, white-carapaced spider like creature scuttling toward them, snapping its pincer-like claws. Dr. Cross feinted dead away at the sight of the creature, Rafferty and the sheriff drew their pistols and snapped off quick shots while Tilson drew a bead on the creature with his rifle and hit it, cracking the carapace badly. The creature veered towards Tilson and grasped him in its pincers, lifting him, screaming, off the ground. Rafferty and the sheriff continued to fire their pistols at the creature, to little effect - their bullets ricocheting off the hard bony carapace.
Tilson's screams increased in pitch and terror as the creature lowered a writhing, toothy proboscis onto his head and began to bore into the bone. The sheriff dropped his pistol and grabbed Tilson's abandoned rifle and continued to shoot at the beast, producing some more small cracks in the carapace. Tilson's screams suddenly cut short as the creature began to feed - the proboscis bulging sickeningly as it sucked up his brains. The creature dropped Tilson's lifeless body then advanced on the sheriff who swung his rifle like a club to fend the beast off.
Meanwhile, Rafferty, who had fired his pistol empty, dragged the unconscious Dr. Cross behind a rock outcrop and spent a few moments reloading. By this time, sheriff Corrigan had run out of luck and had been caught up in the monster's embrace. His brainless corpse soon joined that of Jack Tilson's. The creature's proboscis probed the air, as if smelling for the other two intruders, then it began making its way toward the outcrop behind which Rafferty was hidden. His pistol now reloaded, Rafferty braced his arm against the outcrop and took careful aim at the creature's fleshy proboscis. He pulled the trigger and the proboscis erupted in a sickening slew of green ichor and partially-digested grey matter. The creature collapsed, rapidly hemorrhaging from its maimed proboscis, and quickly died.
Rafferty slapped Dr. Cross awake, and the two of them made carefully made their way back to Jack Tilson's place, where they notified authorities of the deaths of Jack Tilson and Sheriff Corrigan. The next morning they accompanied a party back up to Ashton Butte and found that the creature had dissolved, leaving only a pile of disarticulated pieces of exoskeleton.
Later, back in Arkham, Rafferty read, in the Boston Herald, of a rare astronomical event: the star Canopus would be visible in the northern hemisphere for the first time in centuries and could be seen as the brightest star on the southern horizon. Exactly where the jury-rigged transmitter was pointed.
Creatures from Canopus - Lesser Independent Race
It had a narrow, segmented torso from which extended eight long, multi-jointed appendages, each terminating in claw-like pincers. The thing was wholly contained within a bone-hard carapace and, instead of a head, its proximal end bore a long, flexible proboscis, pale white, which writhed like a maggot, with a toothy serrated maw at its end.
These large spider-like creatures are native to the Canopus system, located in the Carina constellation. They spread from world to world, stripping it of resources and their scouts travel the galaxy, hibernating in stasis within meteoroids for millenia, until chance brings them to a new world. Should that planet have suitable resources for their needs, the scout will construct a transmitter and send a signal back to Canopus so that colonization can commence.
The creatures feed by luring their prey within reach with a hypnotic psychic siren call, then hold it tight with their pincers while boring through the skull with its rasp-like proboscis. This creates a three-inch-diameter hole in the skull through which the victim's brains are sucked out.
CREATURE FROM CANOPUS, the Space Spiders
STR 5d6 (17-18)
CON 4d6 (14)
SIZ 6d6 (21)
INT 4d6 (14)
POW 3d6 (10-11)
DEX 3d6+6 (16-17)
Move 8/10 (swim)
Avg Damage Bonus: +1d6
Weapons: Claws 40%, 1d6 + damage bonus
Proboscis 100% 1d4 boring, 1d6 brain sucking on the subsequent
round and each round thereafter.
Psychic Siren Call (Roll POW vs. POW on resistance table to hypnotize prey and lure it close)
Armour: 6-point carapace
Sanity Loss: 0/1d6
Friday, June 7, 2013
Cthulhu Wars Kickstarter
The much anticipated (at least by me) Cthulhu Wars Kickstarter has finally launched, and in the first day the initial funding goal of $40,000 has been exceeded by more than three times. So, this has clearly caught the attention of Lovecraft fans.
The bad news is that most of the funding levels allow only a limited number of backers and they've sold out quickly. You know how most crowd-source projects offer greater rewards at successively higher levels? Not so much, here. Instead as each funding level sells out, you have to pay more to get the same stuff at the higher funding levels. I guess this is a way of rewarding people who jumped on board early, but unless you were one of the lucky ones who got in during the opening minutes of the campaign, you're going to be paying more for the game, which kind of rubs me the wrong way. So the earliest backers got the complete game with a pledge of $110 and as of this post, you now have to pay $125 (and that level is nearly sold out, too). Each successive pledge level costs you more, topping out at $150 for the game (plus $45 shipping if you live outside the US). The game will retail for $169, so backing the Kickstarter isn't such a great deal.
I'm still pretty jazzed about the game - just look at the awesome miniatures - but I'm going to pass on the Kickstarter and wait to buy this retail when it's released. I'm pretty gun-shy of crowd-source projects to begin with, and the reward doesn't seem to be worth the risk on this one.
The bad news is that most of the funding levels allow only a limited number of backers and they've sold out quickly. You know how most crowd-source projects offer greater rewards at successively higher levels? Not so much, here. Instead as each funding level sells out, you have to pay more to get the same stuff at the higher funding levels. I guess this is a way of rewarding people who jumped on board early, but unless you were one of the lucky ones who got in during the opening minutes of the campaign, you're going to be paying more for the game, which kind of rubs me the wrong way. So the earliest backers got the complete game with a pledge of $110 and as of this post, you now have to pay $125 (and that level is nearly sold out, too). Each successive pledge level costs you more, topping out at $150 for the game (plus $45 shipping if you live outside the US). The game will retail for $169, so backing the Kickstarter isn't such a great deal.
I'm still pretty jazzed about the game - just look at the awesome miniatures - but I'm going to pass on the Kickstarter and wait to buy this retail when it's released. I'm pretty gun-shy of crowd-source projects to begin with, and the reward doesn't seem to be worth the risk on this one.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
R.I.P. Ray Harryhausen
![]() |
| Ray Harryhausen (June 29, 1920 - May 7, 2013) |
I was saddened to learn of the passing, earlier today, of film legend, Ray Harryhausen. Ray was one of the icons of my youth and remains one of my great gaming inspirations. Who can ever forget the awe-inspiring skeleton fight scene from Jason and the Argonauts, which is surely what many of us still imagine when we fight skeletons in our games.
I've posted before on how influential The Golden Voyage of Sinbad was and is, and its status as probably the greatest sword & sorcery film ever made.
And, in Valley of the Gwangi, Harry showed us that dinosaurs are like peanut butter: they make everything taste better. The only thing better than cowboys is cowboys vs. dinosaurs!
I'm happy to say that Ray Harryhausen's influence continues even today: my little girl is a fan of his work and has spent many a Saturday afternoon curled up on the couch with me watching his movies and eating popcorn; she loves the giant creatures of Mysterious Island.
A legend has passed on today, and an era in film making has passed with him. CGI effects will never thrill me the way Ray's hand-made models do and their absence takes a bit of the shine and magic out of movies today. Special effects are now so pervasive that they are taken for granted rather than marveled at the way we did when a gigantic horror lurched onto the scene of one of Ray's movies. He will be greatly missed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)








