Saturday, 8 February 2020

Things Goblins Do

cw: sadism, violence, cruelty to animals and children,
basically if you didn't like the elves you'll really not like these goblins

goblins aren't cute. goblins aren't fun. goblins are fucking horrible.

they live in trash and build scrap-iron shivs. they lurk and crawl and titter in sadistic glee. a goblin can fit through a hole the size of a shilling given enough time. a goblin will stab another to see if the growth on it's face bleeds differently.

1hd
ac as armour
damage as weapon
morale 6
2d6 appearing

roll d66 (2d6 with the first dice being the tens and the second being the units)


d66What Goblins Do
11Steal the clothes from your children and pretend to be them.
12Kill the family dog and nail it's face to your door.
13Put poison in the fireplace whilst you sleep and stab you whilst you escape the poison smoke.
14Hamstring the horses whilst they sleep so you can't go and get help.
15Shit in your well.
16Put razor-blades in fruit still on the tree.
21Breed rats for violence and make them fight.
22Steal your baby and wear them as armour.
23Capture birds and snap their beaks.
24Collect the genitalia of their victims.
25Crawl under the floorboards and stick needles through the gaps.
26Slither down the chimney, steal a hammer and nail your ankle to the bed.
31Kill the prize bull, slit open it's belly and wait there for you.
32Ring your house in lantern oil and set it ablaze.
33Leave one alive to tell you what they saw.
34Strangle you six or seven times before getting bored and smashing your skull in.
35Eat your fingers, toes, ears nose and eyes and cauterize the wounds.
36Tie you to the corpse of your friend with barbed wire.
41Fill a bag with cats and bludgeon you with it.
42Skin your back and your feet and throw you in the ocean.
43Remodel your face after their own with a knife and a hammer.
44Worm into the space between the walls and listen to you at your most intimate.
45Ejaculate in your books so the pages are ruined.
46Hide from everyone but you until you are isolated and distrusted.
51Smear pigs in pitch and ride them towards you, holding a torch.
52Tattoo your face and hands with their goblin scrawl.
53Replace your dice with weighted ones and mark your cards.
54Hang the weakest of their band from the rafters of a church, waiting above for you to cut down the corpse.
55Leave the corpses of animals on your doorstep.
56Set dogshit alight and throw it at you.
61Piss in the alecask.
62Leave your chicken coop open for the fox.
63Pull moles out of their holes and hide in their burrows.
64Hold tadpoles in their mouths until they grow legs - and then eat them.
65Scream every night to stop you sleeping.
66Give your child a knife.

Saturday, 23 November 2019

Mothership Module Kickstarter

For those who somehow missed it - I've been writing a module for Mothership, and it's being Kickstarted now! It's got AI and androids and horror and should be of passable quality.

CLICK THE PICTURE FOR THAT LINK



Saturday, 12 October 2019

KRX - Enslaved by the Insect Overlords - Troika Hack


The wonderful K Yani has very kindly laid this out in PDF, as well as fixed a few errors in the text. Cheers!

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1NO_YfQZ_ucYSqaVXgPM9jlIewyhuutzi


Booklet for Letter size printing, graphics off, dots for notes on, no cropmarks
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1hF2XpMkVRO2yaI9BBfKaoBvJFncSmfG2

Booklet for A4 size printing, graphics off, dotes for notes on, no cropmarks
https://drive.google.com/open?id=1h3Rk2TZ1-ab2Rvenxqb5agCDuytTVCyy

Rule 0

Don't tell the players shit.

Humanity is in thralldom to the enslaving insects, black carapace nightmares brandishing their neural whips else lounging in their quilled towers, purple-shine black metal walls studded with spikes hung with taut fungus-flesh rupture-loom above rioting corpse-built slums filled with the un-engaged surplus. Bruise-hue skies studded with eight tumour-moons loom above such vistas. Some amongst these pitiful dwellers covet the parasites swarming the hives, becoming willing hosts to alien biologies, accretions of strange fluids limbs and senses. The empire of the Insects is decadent and vile and unchallenged, the whole world locked in their mandible grip - rot farms, mines, wilderness and cities alike are unquestionably their dominion. All castes of owned beings throng and move through society, all bound up and up to the pitiless insects, attempting to eke out survival when not under orders. All of this is witnessed through alien compound eyes. They are known as the Krx.

Wednesday, 2 October 2019

Hooden - Formerly Known as Die Broken

Remember this? I changed the name because I thought it fucking sucked and also added a bunch of shit like another adventure and junk

click pic for pdf


Saturday, 21 September 2019

Six Troikas 4

more              troikas               again


41 Troika the Cruel




A city of ruthless hierarchy and razor-blade blessings. No art without suffering, and preferably yours. No transaction is without debasement and sadistic, gleeful thrills. None escape untainted - either tarred forever in the eyes of the inhabitants as a weak supplicant or hated and feared as a steel-fanged oppressor - such a duality itself being delightfully cruel. 

The cruelty, of course, would be hollow without comparison. Some of this is afforded by the visitors - but never enough. No, the cruelty of cruelties is the deliberate fostering of hope and love and kindness in the spined depths of the city. Always, there are brave and hopeful rebels willing to love and die and resist. Sometimes they succeed - for weeks, the city knows joy. Then the cruelties seep back in, the poison of a toxic city. A ripe harvest of pain.

Where in the cycle is the city?
  1. Misery runs rampant. Cruelty is omnipresent and half-hearted, a going-through of the motions. The aesthetics of pain but none of the spite. Empathy is nominally punished by the black-clad secret police, but most have given up, the monstrosity of their work roosting in minds barren of hope. Cruelty auto-cannibalizes.
  2. A spark of hope - a vision of a city unburdened by these barbed-wire shackles which seem so entrenched - no, the shackles are rusty and we have the strength to break free! Bide our time and we shall know victory, comrades!
  3. Freedom calls, and we must answer! It is time to rise up and overthrow the oppressors - to take ownership of our lives and to know that in our struggle we live free of such cruelties and may breathe air clean and unsullied by the stink of sadists! The city burns as the lackeys of the old order fight a retreating battle through the streets, ever pushed back.
  4. A bounty of kindness - the milk of compassion overflows and floods the streets. Travelers and inhabitants alike are joined in song and share willingly, knowing that they have secured joy and harmony. The leaders are just and noble and live the principles they sacrificed so much for.
  5. Cruelty sets in. The revolutionary structure calcifies. Hierarchy insidiously rebuilds itself, the old foundations wearing the veneer of the new. Distinctions between groups are drawn up and bloom fresh enmities.
  6. Sadism is ascendant. The arts are interrogated, and all pretense of empathy destroyed. Only ego and pain exist. Special groups of people are designated and protected, their right to assert superiority enshrined in law. Oh, the laws - they rise above, protection over justice. Prisons never exhale, only breathing more and more prisoners into themselves, where they enact cruelties upon one another. Hate is alive and vicious, coiling through the city, tense and ready to strike.

42 Troika the Vaporous


Oh, to define Troika! Such is the idle dream of poets and philosophers. And yet, we shall while away the hours trying to specify some element, some kernel of essence of such a city. The boundaries are hazily defined - one may be out meandering only to realise they are within the city itself. Indeterminate buildings forever on the edge of reach and vision simultaneously. Who lives there? Well, you know. Faces swim and drift and shake. A warm insubstantial glow and amnesia caress.

Hm?
  1. Ah, of course.
  2. Not at all.
  3. Surely not?
  4. I dimly recall.
  5. Nothing of the sort.
  6. Probably.

43 Troika the Entombed


The city itself is dead - we are all carrion-feeders, gathered throughout these decaying stones and clawing our way through clotted streets. No air stirs the lungs of this city - no rivers pulse with life. A city of eternal decay, the sky a flat grey curve - the roof of this tomb.
The dead, of course, must be honored lest they return with a vengeance - and so great a corpse must have been terrible in life. Funeral processions are constant, Bewailers and Dirgists trying to out-grief one another, rivals in the funerary arts. Out of respect for the deceased, only black may be worn in the city. The shrines to give offerings to this tomb-space are found on every corner, stacked high with untouchable grave-goods. To steal from one of these shrines ensures that you will join Troika in the slumber of death.

What is the Funeral Rite currently?

  1. Animal Sacrifice - great heaps of butchered giraffes, defeated lions, bloody sheep and burnt swine fill the streets with a charnel drift. Endless crates of bleating braying roaring whining beasts are imported - all of the dead doors of Troika are thrown open to receive more and more animals - all to show how very dearly missed Troika will be!
  2. Reconstruction - around the outskirts they build other Troikas - fine representations of what they imagined the city looked like in life. Architectural critics wander through these, viciously attacking any deviation from the current popular imagining - creativity is only bent to the meticulous imagining of the past. Innovation is despised.
  3. Consumption - the living must, respectfully, consume the dead and by doing so carry them onward and within them. How one eats a city is a somewhat open question - all manner of stone broths, air-dried meats and fermented root vegetables are offered, each claiming to have the truest essence of the dead city within them.
  4. Cremation - traditionally, such an act would be known as arson - indeed, the crematory technicians of Troika are recruited from all manner of pyromaniacal places. As the corpse of Troika is all stone, damage is more limited than one would expect - however, all are expected to contribute some small chip of their domicile to add to the pyre. Many will gladly pay others to substitute chips of their own buildings - cremation-by-proxy.
  5. Enshroudment - the city must have a funeral shroud. Buying such quantities of material (and paying for the daring expertise of such funeral-riggers) necessitates a city-wide effort - and is assisted by Sphere-piracy, golden barges tearing through spheres in search of bolts of cloth and fabric for this immense covering. 
  6. Beautification - no expense is spared in the complete and total renovation of the city. To account for the subjectivity of beauty, artists and critics of all stripes are imported in the thousands, given a patch of the city and set to work. The city becomes a right of competing aesthetics, a frenzy of artistic creation. Novel and heretofore impossible styles live and die in the space of days, localized to a few streets. 

44 Troika the Consumed


Between the spheres dwell ecologies cosmic in scale. The scope of such things is more than most minds can comprehend, let alone contain. The cycles of predation are titanic, hungers the size of universes stalking one another behind the humpbacked sky. Of course, not all are predators - even these strange beasts must have some equivalent of the herbivores, and it is those who devour Troika. Some swoop and nibble-tear, the plankton of the void. Others, larger, tear great chunks of the city loose. Finally, there are many who happily swallow the city whole. Strangely, it is the last who cause the least disturbance - the rivers flow with aetheric digestive fluid and the sky has dim intimations of stomach lining, but otherwise much remains the same - treasure-hunters flock to the city to plumb the riches of a gut filled with the artefacts of the void, handily gathered into a concentrated (relatively) area.

What Consumes Troika currently?

  1. Shrieking aether-prawns, hideous rainbow-hued crustanceans, armoured against the void, their locomotive gases mixing with the air to form poison fumes. Each "stands" some 10ft tall, a nightmare curve of shell, talon and mandibles. Despite their desire to feed on Troika, they are quite friendly if one can brave the gases, liable to apologise but firmly institing that they simply must have a few more mouthfuls of your roof.
  2. Barnacle-buildings slam down from above, rooting themselves in place before spewing their digestive fluids, melting the city and funneling it toward their impact-craters. They are perfectly happy to be used as a replacement, warning their temporary residents before violently tearing themselves free and moving away.
  3. Gargantuan mind-maws, the size of cities, subsisting on the idea of Troika itself. They swallow the city whole, humming contentedly as the concept of such a city fills them. Such consumption does not detract from the city - indeed, it reinforces the very concept - how else would they derive sustenance if it were not a city?
  4. Vorpal-Nose Probisci, their entire form consisting of sky-scraper needles and great bloated balloons far far above human sight. They plunge deep into the city, draining it of some unknowable essence. Nihilists and pessimists flock to Troika as it is sucked dry of some essential, unnameable concept whilst the positive thinkers leave in droves, paying handsomely for passage anywhere else.
  5. Parasitised Sphere, subsumed entirely to the will of some mechanistic intellect, directs all of it's energies and efforts to the deconstruction and assimilation of Troika. Such strange sustenance poisons the mind, and eventually the tide reverses - Troika begins to consume the Sphere in return, some strange symbiotic liberation-revenge. It is theorised that all the spheres would be overtaken by such machines without Troika. 
  6. Starving Star-Worm, unable to find an explosion to eat, instead lashes out and attempts to burrow into Troika. It bumps clumsily through the streets, smashing it's face repeatedly into the unfortunately solid structures and floors. If it finds liquid, it will drown. Otherwise, it will eventually bludgeon itself to death, and a glut of void-hardened worm-leather clothes and armour will flood the spheres.

45 Troika the Towering


Infinity is not horizontal you flat-minded peasant - it is vertical! The natural curvature of existence itself - up!!! Consider Troika, the fine city, that central spire of existence - it goes UP! Forever! You've never been??! Each tier of the city lies between another two - yes, sandwiched, if you must - in an infinite chain, each denizen of that city aspiring to move up to find the highest tier of Troika! Hm? Of course there is a top - otherwise it ceases to be a tower. Yes, it can still be infinite - and no, before you ask, it is most certainly not a loop. You cannot see the twinned tower, reversed, can you? No. It is an infinite spire crowned by what must be a glorious vision of the Sublime. No, I've never been.

46 Troika the Haunted


Troika is a city haunted by itself. What exists is but a pale reflection of the potential glories which could-have-been, might-be, were or currently are. Time itself wears thin in Troika, and as such the city is hyperpositioned atop itself, and those infinite possibilities influence one another in a reciprocal chain. All actions are not merely eternal, but may indeed influence themselves into stranger and more twisted forms, the ramifications echoing out across the layered possibilities. Throwing stones into ponds to see the ripples is strictly prohibited, the cascade of possible ripples causing break-downs in what thin walls remain between the realities.

Each possibility is struggling to assert itself as the primary ground of haunting, and as such tear at one another to assert dominance. This manifests as terrible reality-consuming pale flames, able to undo you with a mere spark. When such turf-wars between turf ignite, residents are advised to leave. Who advises them depends on who you ask - some would say it is the invading reality trying to encourage deserters.