Almost two weeks ago I posted a query concerning Numenera. My interest in that book has cooled somewhat, but not the quote that I shared in that post.
I simply can not shake the image of a small band traversing a flat, windswept landscape. The wind howls, pulling at their cloaks as they clutch them desperately around their bodies. The light is failing, and in its twilight seems somehow thin, washed out. They arrive at a cliff face, not more than 10-12' high, curving away to either side, fading into the wan light.
They quickly negotiate that smooth face, gaining its summit. Continuing on their course, a short time later they arrive at a precipice. The lip curves away, behind them this time, symmetrical and smooth, lost in the gathering darkness. One of them takes a tube from a fold in his cloak and places it to one of his eyes. Instantly the distance shrinks before him and he can gaze upon far vistas as if they were at arm's length. There at the edge of his extended vision, he sees another precipice. This one, while curving beyond the limits of his vision, is marked by deep indentations, uniformly spaced and consistent in their depth. They march along the edge of that far cliff, fading from sight.
The view of this scene pulls back, revealing the group to be standing on a giant gear.
So, here is my idea: a post-apocalyptic fantasy set among the cyclopean ruins of an advanced previous civilization. The system I think would be suit my vision? Well, this is a weird, bleak, somewhat hopeless, blend of fantasy with a dash of sci-fi post apoc. It is over-the-top in-your-face balls-to-the-wall and a lot of other hyphenated descriptors. So, naturally, I'm thinking DCC.
Showing posts with label Setting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Setting. Show all posts
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Under a Red Sun Dying
The Gods, especially those of Law, return to the Maelstrom unlike anything else. They unravel slowly, agonizingly, many times taking eons to finally die.
Vayn was the Sun Goddess. She was the resplendent, living sun of Kalagris. With her radiant golden hair trailing out behind her, she crossed the daytime skies, bringing warmth and llfe. By night she stalked the Underworld, seeking out her enemies with flaming orange eyes.
Then, she began to unravel. Over many bitter generations of men was Vayn torn limb from limb by the pull of chaos. Her screams of pain rained down from on high and there was nowhere in the world to escape that awful sound. Generations of men were born, lived their entire lives, and died with the sounds of her agony ripping at their ears, and their sanity.
Eventually there wasn't enough of her left and her strength was almost spent. She was unable to maintain her course through the sky. She stopped at her highest point, and there awaited the end. Chaos continued to rip and tear at her, until finally it stopped.
There is no explaination for it stopping. It just did. All that is left of the once mighty Vayn is her heart. It hangs high in the sky over Kalagris, glowing a dull and ruddy blood-red. It yet beats, slowly, its dim light pulsing in time to the pitiful rhythm. Both the sound of the beating and the pulsing bloody glow are said to induce madness in the weak mind, and hopeless despair in the faint heart.
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Vayn was the Sun Goddess. She was the resplendent, living sun of Kalagris. With her radiant golden hair trailing out behind her, she crossed the daytime skies, bringing warmth and llfe. By night she stalked the Underworld, seeking out her enemies with flaming orange eyes.
Then, she began to unravel. Over many bitter generations of men was Vayn torn limb from limb by the pull of chaos. Her screams of pain rained down from on high and there was nowhere in the world to escape that awful sound. Generations of men were born, lived their entire lives, and died with the sounds of her agony ripping at their ears, and their sanity.
Eventually there wasn't enough of her left and her strength was almost spent. She was unable to maintain her course through the sky. She stopped at her highest point, and there awaited the end. Chaos continued to rip and tear at her, until finally it stopped.
There is no explaination for it stopping. It just did. All that is left of the once mighty Vayn is her heart. It hangs high in the sky over Kalagris, glowing a dull and ruddy blood-red. It yet beats, slowly, its dim light pulsing in time to the pitiful rhythm. Both the sound of the beating and the pulsing bloody glow are said to induce madness in the weak mind, and hopeless despair in the faint heart.
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Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Magic in Kalagris
I've uploaded my magic hack for Kalagris to my google docs. Magic can be a grim business in Kalagris, definitely not for the faint of heart. If you happen to check it out, please bbe sure to leave a comment with what you think of it.
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Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Thief
What follows is my version of the thief class for WhiteBox, tweaked for Kalagris (my world). I drew inspiration from a number of sources, espcially Dyson Logos (http://rpgcharacters.wordpress.com/2009/08/01/d6-and-2d6-thiefin-for-basic-dungeons-dragons/). Thanks for the ideas, I had almost given up on allowing the thief at all.
Music for the Mood
The three main philosophical underpinnings of my world are:
Nihilism, being defined as an extreme form of scepticism that systematically rejects all values, belief in existence, the possibility of communication, etc.
Defeatism, acceptance of or resignation to the prospect of defeat.
Hedonism, the doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the sole or chief good in life.
We'll explore these further when I discuss Alignment. For now, let's just say that there is a grim, ugly slant on a party-like-it's-1999 vibe in the world. Here is some music that really sets the tone for me when I'm working on it:
Tool - most of it, but Undertow especially
Type O Negative - again, most of it
Johnny Cash - Hurt
Avenged Sevenfold - Nightmare
Disturned - The Animal, Indestructible, Inside the Fire
Drowning Pool - 37 Stitches, Let the Bodies Hit the Floor
Linkin Park - a lot
Five Finger Death Punch - Far from Home, Bad Company
Nine Inch Nails
Rob Zombie/White Zombie
Ronnie James Dio - Last in Line
Stone Sour
Slipknot
Skillet - Hero
Rage Against the Machine
So, that's a start. I'm sure it has you moving in the right direction. Now, grab a sword and go carve off your piece while there's still something left.
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Nihilism, being defined as an extreme form of scepticism that systematically rejects all values, belief in existence, the possibility of communication, etc.
Defeatism, acceptance of or resignation to the prospect of defeat.
Hedonism, the doctrine that pleasure or happiness is the sole or chief good in life.
We'll explore these further when I discuss Alignment. For now, let's just say that there is a grim, ugly slant on a party-like-it's-1999 vibe in the world. Here is some music that really sets the tone for me when I'm working on it:
Tool - most of it, but Undertow especially
Type O Negative - again, most of it
Johnny Cash - Hurt
Avenged Sevenfold - Nightmare
Disturned - The Animal, Indestructible, Inside the Fire
Drowning Pool - 37 Stitches, Let the Bodies Hit the Floor
Linkin Park - a lot
Five Finger Death Punch - Far from Home, Bad Company
Nine Inch Nails
Rob Zombie/White Zombie
Ronnie James Dio - Last in Line
Stone Sour
Slipknot
Skillet - Hero
Rage Against the Machine
So, that's a start. I'm sure it has you moving in the right direction. Now, grab a sword and go carve off your piece while there's still something left.
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A Note Concerning My World
I'm not a professional author or game designer. I'm sure if you've made it this far with me, you know these things by now. However, I am very excited by the ideas I am having for this world. I am also really stoked by the old school mojo that WhiteBox has rekindled in my dark little soul.
Anyway, my point is that most of what you see here will be stream-of-conscious style writing. One world entry won't flow to the next. A new entry may build on one that was 6 weeks ago. Entries may be long or short; an entire region,complete with NPC names, or just enough to express some relevant twist to something that went before.
Perhaps someday, if there is enough interest, I may compile and edit all of it into something remotely usable. Until then, think of it as I do: a notebook where I can scribble ideas, bits of maps, new magic items, spells, and monsters.
Oh, yes, and speaking of interest: I want to welcome my very first follower, ever, ze bulette. I've enjoyed your site greatly and only hope I can return at least some small portion of the favor.
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Anyway, my point is that most of what you see here will be stream-of-conscious style writing. One world entry won't flow to the next. A new entry may build on one that was 6 weeks ago. Entries may be long or short; an entire region,complete with NPC names, or just enough to express some relevant twist to something that went before.
Perhaps someday, if there is enough interest, I may compile and edit all of it into something remotely usable. Until then, think of it as I do: a notebook where I can scribble ideas, bits of maps, new magic items, spells, and monsters.
Oh, yes, and speaking of interest: I want to welcome my very first follower, ever, ze bulette. I've enjoyed your site greatly and only hope I can return at least some small portion of the favor.
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Monday, March 28, 2011
Introduction to My World
My world is dying. Slowly. Painfully. One piece at a time. Chunks tearing away, returning to the Maelstrom from which it came. I don't know how the world was born, I wasn't there, but I do know it floats in a sea of chaotic energy. I know that however it happened, my world was shaped and formed from that energy. And I believe to that energy, it is returning.
Over 7,000 years ago, 7149 to be precise, the first hole appeared. The great dwarven citadel of Marzakal was swallowed in a pit of fire. It is still there, deep in the Homeforge Mountains. A hole, jagged around the edges, cliffs forever calving off the mountains, as if feeding the molten maw of some hellish beast. It is 27 miles across now. Some sages and scholars predict it will consume the entire Homeforge range within another 100 years.
These days there are thousands of holes. Too many to count. Not all of them are fiery and molten, like the Doom-Hole, as the one at Marzakal is now known. Some are inky nothingness. Some ooze some sort of tainted muck that corrupts all it touches. It was one of those that got Carrasett, the great college of wizardry. That hole opened some miles from the towers of the college, but the creeping ooze consumed everything in what is now called the Chaos Bog. The towers and structures of the university still stand, but their foundations and lower levels are coated in the ooze, giving rise to all manner of hideous swamp-things.
The Edge-Holes, also called the Steam Pits by some, form the boundaries of our world. There were those who once believed our world was round. Now, all that's left is a flat piece of earth, hemmed in by blazing chasms. Our oceans and seas pour into them, wreathing the precipice in shrouding mists.
Not all the holes are old, huge, or famous. In fact, most are no larger than a modest castle. New ones are forming almost monthly. Yet, for all their differences, they share one thing in common: they mark a point where our world has returned to the raw Stuff from whence it came. They are an encroachment of chaotic energies into our world. They corrupt all they touch, and their influence spreads, once the hole is made. They are killing my world.
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Over 7,000 years ago, 7149 to be precise, the first hole appeared. The great dwarven citadel of Marzakal was swallowed in a pit of fire. It is still there, deep in the Homeforge Mountains. A hole, jagged around the edges, cliffs forever calving off the mountains, as if feeding the molten maw of some hellish beast. It is 27 miles across now. Some sages and scholars predict it will consume the entire Homeforge range within another 100 years.
These days there are thousands of holes. Too many to count. Not all of them are fiery and molten, like the Doom-Hole, as the one at Marzakal is now known. Some are inky nothingness. Some ooze some sort of tainted muck that corrupts all it touches. It was one of those that got Carrasett, the great college of wizardry. That hole opened some miles from the towers of the college, but the creeping ooze consumed everything in what is now called the Chaos Bog. The towers and structures of the university still stand, but their foundations and lower levels are coated in the ooze, giving rise to all manner of hideous swamp-things.
The Edge-Holes, also called the Steam Pits by some, form the boundaries of our world. There were those who once believed our world was round. Now, all that's left is a flat piece of earth, hemmed in by blazing chasms. Our oceans and seas pour into them, wreathing the precipice in shrouding mists.
Not all the holes are old, huge, or famous. In fact, most are no larger than a modest castle. New ones are forming almost monthly. Yet, for all their differences, they share one thing in common: they mark a point where our world has returned to the raw Stuff from whence it came. They are an encroachment of chaotic energies into our world. They corrupt all they touch, and their influence spreads, once the hole is made. They are killing my world.
=-=-=-=-=
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