Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Blogging by whim

RPG blogging is a thing of whim and fancy for me, and lately my whims have returned to Street Fighter. I have a new RPG-related Street Fighter post up at the other blog, which I'll shameless promote here just one more time: Street Fighter martial arts, some explorations.

From here on out, I'll stick to keeping most of the street fighter stuff over there and D&D-cetera and general roleplaying stuff over here, so don't worry about this blog turning into a series of "look over there" type posts.

Monday, November 29, 2010

The Desert of Cosmic Horror

Strange things happen in the desert.

Yes, somehow, given the choice of spending their next diplomatic assignment at either The Spider Swamp, Crater Town, or The Desert of Cosmic Horror, our envoys decided that cosmic horrors would probably be more amenable to diplomacy than spiders or alien puddings.

I suppose if you're going to be negotiating with the unknowable in any case, it is reasonable to go big or go home.

Upon entering the desert, we quickly converted to the characters to a loose version of Call of Cthulhu. At first, I wasn't sure it was working, but sure enough, as time in the desert wore on, even the simplest kinds of banal monstrosities D&D adventurers otherwise take for granted (corpses, bloody altars, strange runes) took on new meanings. And sanity scores slowly dwindled.

Only when the diplomats sailed into the underworld did their dependable D&D stats return. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so relieved to enter the kingdom of the dead.

In the end, the diplomats dealt with the usual mix of diplomatic challenges.

  • strange stars above the desert, uncountable, unrecognizable, wrong
  • silent jackals, always watching from the next dune
  • an archaologist from another world, gone quite mad and making terrible sacrifices upon the altar hidden in his tent
  • the archaeologist's shadowy double (demon? ghul? doppelganger?)
  • runes of the crawling chaos, messenger of the outer gods
  • a trap-filled pyramid, of course
  • mummified guardians inviting the diplomats onto a funerary barge
  • the black river to the underworld
  • the shade of the great kingdom in the underworld, safe these long eons from the crawling chaos
  • the boy king and god of the great kingdom, who was happy to negotiate, for all the good a dead king's alliance will do them in the face of cosmic horrors above

To their credit, the diplomats were also smart enough to politely refuse the pharoah's kind offer of a meal at his table.

Ah, the life of a diplomat!

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Recently, on the Superhero Necromancer Channel

Here are some things we've been up to, of late.

In The Rainy City, a rather grim bunch stole into a necromancer's tower by night. Their intentions were not good.

This PC quote from the start of the session rather set the tone:

"I like dead people. They have things. Things that don't belong to nobody."

In The Royal Subterranean Diplomatic Corps, a recent diplomatic mission to Marrow Deep, led by a discredited (?) ranger, the layabout, underachieving 18th son of a nobleman, and the Justin Bieber of necromancers ended in... something resembling a treaty with a very bad dead thing, or demon perhaps. The distinction is probably academic. Also, a good hound was lost. The dead rose. Villagers slandered the king. And a god was threatened in a most unseemly manner.

In Gamma Terra, a ragtag crew of mutant boat people (why is it always boat people with this game?) encountered first hand the Curse of the Kill Bot somewhere along the waterways of rural Gamma Michigan. While they have stopped it, for now, before it could eat more people, it has already uploaded its consciousness to the scattered remains of the global satellite network. The kill bot is dead, but its curse lives on...

And finally, elsewhere, I updated my other blog that is never updated, with brand new Street Fighter content.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I am the Justin Bieber of Necromancers

There are many insights to be gained from playing RPGs. Truths about ourselves and our friends. New understandings of the world around us. Striking experiences of the power of stories in our lives.

And then there are the other truths, less profound perhaps, but no less sublime.