tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54844281012825366172024-02-07T11:01:53.216-08:00ShadgrimgrvyThe Reason for the Season!Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.comBlogger217125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-80303173597130210982018-07-24T17:44:00.002-07:002018-07-24T17:44:57.561-07:00Six Shooter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fgtjgaUyRkBIs2Cj3lZNLXK0XZ_-B8_IxKnFGKPUD-BOAxr3CxthWq8GzguK3XZ-1XFfA3gmX-GHQIY3Y_5g3K5cwBFUg_LLKVX8eYmvZpmpRLQP3nBH7q3Zr18ehGV58OrpHFprCEb-/s1600/vaquero.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="917" data-original-width="1600" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fgtjgaUyRkBIs2Cj3lZNLXK0XZ_-B8_IxKnFGKPUD-BOAxr3CxthWq8GzguK3XZ-1XFfA3gmX-GHQIY3Y_5g3K5cwBFUg_LLKVX8eYmvZpmpRLQP3nBH7q3Zr18ehGV58OrpHFprCEb-/s400/vaquero.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Another gun I've drawn. This time it's an old fashioned single-action six-shooter.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-57804154085582124972018-05-23T21:10:00.002-07:002018-05-23T23:31:41.977-07:00The Akar Saga Continues...I swear, this gun is driving me crazy. If I draw it anymore my head is going to explode.<br />
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Here it is again. These are some earlier developments that were looking WAY too G3 for their own good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9jwbYdXQ-OA8D5tFmpb7wgK7rMqNGN60Bk1iFH_kpcQBHGND6zKUnR8NMhPs_tHydKSjNjZt_Lq-7bbdzaF4SKP6KAizeCHRapguVXAWP9jt8nSWR3Z7t46zIVzjlqoD7_hZNwXOQq2i/s1600/akardevelopment3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR9jwbYdXQ-OA8D5tFmpb7wgK7rMqNGN60Bk1iFH_kpcQBHGND6zKUnR8NMhPs_tHydKSjNjZt_Lq-7bbdzaF4SKP6KAizeCHRapguVXAWP9jt8nSWR3Z7t46zIVzjlqoD7_hZNwXOQq2i/s400/akardevelopment3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yes, that's Johan posing there with his M1 Carbine. The M1 is not an Akar, it's just there to hang out and meet some ladies.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwlsrEgg66HRyfoKabXarg0CmmDIHhBqzYYc-dJEJIzQQopouZ0S3nQmh7EfeIjP-kCDHCaolbV8WUGf7yXUbJpKOF6BPqdMJOqmfSKXvgf7Yv4uY5DsL4mKBKqFLeEHVDWxLj1q3I7ws/s1600/akardevelopment2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1188" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwlsrEgg66HRyfoKabXarg0CmmDIHhBqzYYc-dJEJIzQQopouZ0S3nQmh7EfeIjP-kCDHCaolbV8WUGf7yXUbJpKOF6BPqdMJOqmfSKXvgf7Yv4uY5DsL4mKBKqFLeEHVDWxLj1q3I7ws/s400/akardevelopment2.png" width="296" /></a></div>
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The above are the most recent designs and the ones towards the bottom are my favorite so far.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yfGyyqpDLBI8esu5TAcZSxG_lhuUGjDicRBRQTC9Z9tsdswtWSV2LJGPfXNgWsFZ_ZGHHjgSipD2fGmjb0rbbDQvTcNsLNVlS3U4YYvkTg9TI238blT5YBL11CltG8WGAQ2rJYSlUkRg/s1600/akardevelopment1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="1417" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5yfGyyqpDLBI8esu5TAcZSxG_lhuUGjDicRBRQTC9Z9tsdswtWSV2LJGPfXNgWsFZ_ZGHHjgSipD2fGmjb0rbbDQvTcNsLNVlS3U4YYvkTg9TI238blT5YBL11CltG8WGAQ2rJYSlUkRg/s400/akardevelopment1.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Somebody shoot me.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-52126346961050582342017-12-30T11:32:00.004-08:002018-05-23T23:31:19.780-07:00AkarI promise, one of these days I'll make a proper blog post again. It's been years since I've done that and I'm worried that when I do it'll be impossible to sum up all the many changes that have taken place in my life since the last post. In fact, it probably already is. So lets ignore that for now and look at a gun I drew:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Te_agIKxHFpygXh2jtElUBf4UP8bA6_dhsvoMAguthhj1qXVbab-BHlRf-i4NIZKT9cXIDo-tYjnt9vP-4KItqpRt1NVpvgdfbL7zLa1rBKuxrS8KAcQOJ3UIhZbggtKi9JxZWMgnJCF/s1600/akar.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="1232" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Te_agIKxHFpygXh2jtElUBf4UP8bA6_dhsvoMAguthhj1qXVbab-BHlRf-i4NIZKT9cXIDo-tYjnt9vP-4KItqpRt1NVpvgdfbL7zLa1rBKuxrS8KAcQOJ3UIhZbggtKi9JxZWMgnJCF/s400/akar.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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I wanted to design a gun that would fit the aesthetics of the setting; something rugged and simple. It had to have a minimum of moving parts. It had to be lightweight and ergonomic, so creatures of all shapes and sizes could use it comfortably. And it definitely needed wooden furniture.<br />
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When I started working on this idea, I wanted to make a hybrid of an AK-47 and an M16. It would be a sort of fusion of East and West, which I thought would be appropriate for the Chmatran people. But very quickly I realized how futile that would actually be. The more research I did the more I came to dislike the M16. Externally it looks fine, but I found it's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Direct_impingement">direct impingement</a> system disturbing and awkward. "Why would anyone want to vent hot gas directly into the receiver?" I found myself asking.<br />
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I liked the idea of keeping the M16's main spring or maybe it's trigger group, but little else. I was dead set on using the AK's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gas-operated_reloading#Long-stroke_piston">gas piston</a> system. I thought it was simple and elegant and it reminded me of a car. It became increasingly obvious that nothing from the M16's design was going to mesh with that. I suppose I could have used a short-stroke gas piston. But why bother? The Akar was meant to be dragged through steaming jungles and blistering deserts. It was meant to make the long journey to the roof of the world and endure the bitter cold of the polar wastelands.<br />
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There was no room for plastic furniture or aluminum bodywork on a gun like that. This isn't a toy we're making here. The Akar is a slab of solid steel, milled into the shape of a gun. It needs to be so solid that it gets passed down from generation to generation of monster hunters. And in all that time the most maintenance it should need is a bi-yearly spritz of WD-40.<br />
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My design was turning into yet another AK clone. I was becoming lost. I had no idea how to make it any more unique. It started to feel like every new feature I wanted to include would just be a distraction from the elegant simplicity of the original AK-47. It was around the time I started worrying about how a Chmatran factory would stamp the upper dust cover that I felt like I was wasting my time.<br />
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And then it came to me; a perfect solution.<br />
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"Make it German."<br />
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It seemed so obvious I don't know how I didn't think of it before. But the best way to make the Akar more exotic looking was to take elements from the very first assault rifle. It's commonly, maybe erroneously, thought that the AK was based on it's design. The two have similar gas systems and it's main spring is even in the back, like how I wanted with the original design. Yes, it was the only way to make this work; I would use the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/StG_44">Sturmgewehr 44</a>.<br />
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When that decision was made and I found a hinged lower receiver design I liked it became a matter of fitting all the parts together in a way that looked good; the AK's muzzle brake, the StG's front and rear sights. It also needed a bayonet lug of course. From the start I knew I needed a bottle opener, like the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/IMI_Galil">Galil</a>. As I continued to polish up the design I also took elements I liked from the Heckler & Koch G3, which was itself based on the StG design.<br />
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This last step was an important one, because it confirmed to me that the Akar needed to look like an oversized jungle MP5. And that's exactly what we're left with. I'm very happy with how it turned out.<br />
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There's still the question of what caliber the Akar would be chambered for. Like everything else about the M16, 5.56 NATO makes me uncomfortable. The AK's 7.62mm round is just fine and the StG's 7.92mm Kurz was too anemic to be used in any gun after World War II. I <i>suppose</i> I could make a new caliber native to Chmatra that combines the best aspects of both the 5.56 and 7.92. But I don't know anywhere near enough about ballistics to make an informed decision about that. A fusion of the two would bring the gun closer back to it's original concept though. For the time being I'll say the Akar just shoots <i>bullets</i>.<br />
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What I like the most about this design is that there's room for some variation. The Akar is supposed to be a well-known firearm used all over Chmatra and it's sister planets Chmyka and Pandemonium. It's such a simple design that it can be cranked out by the hundreds of thousands in enormous automated factories or hand crafted in someone's garage with equal proficiency. Countless local variants would spring up over the years; some could have collapsing stocks, others could accept huge drum magazines, different sights, accessory rails, cup holders maybe and that's not even getting into the strange enchantments wizards would place on their guns. There would be no limit to what people could make.<br />
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So, it's done. Expect to see the Akar and it's many cousins in the <a href="https://nofunever.deviantart.com/">comic</a> very soon. It'll be there alongside plenty of other fictional firearms to come.<br />
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Oh, I guess this ended up being a long post after all. Weird.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-58853046113596582702016-11-05T15:54:00.000-07:002016-11-05T15:54:56.002-07:00HalloweeniesHere's a picture of a Chmatran demon:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrmx7p8buIqP0612NTEBs-S3mUsYnYAI6fhtXwpyQlAADPlbvxppeq0ElEmlXKOiilzUUAr77sfUmMQhKN5lTswccC6rtBlTNcPS16Xe2qZU-hZgF-Qp2o7fD0Rx-LgJ6AOqJ3s8UHXUp/s1600/scarydemon.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbrmx7p8buIqP0612NTEBs-S3mUsYnYAI6fhtXwpyQlAADPlbvxppeq0ElEmlXKOiilzUUAr77sfUmMQhKN5lTswccC6rtBlTNcPS16Xe2qZU-hZgF-Qp2o7fD0Rx-LgJ6AOqJ3s8UHXUp/s400/scarydemon.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Just for future reference.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-60297136530837788142016-09-21T18:44:00.002-07:002016-09-21T19:35:30.012-07:00Drawing Competish'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwAVo8A2Qqirhyphenhyphen_vbNVl4YIZKsGRbU7KkwIrjnynw1M0kEnAZPqRcxrzhgkBex05Xm6bpf89eXIvM70-EzxakXR1jQA11x20lX4he0URmwRhrUWyWnmnAPp7gwFqumswWruT5iUlwRG-o/s1600/relax.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwAVo8A2Qqirhyphenhyphen_vbNVl4YIZKsGRbU7KkwIrjnynw1M0kEnAZPqRcxrzhgkBex05Xm6bpf89eXIvM70-EzxakXR1jQA11x20lX4he0URmwRhrUWyWnmnAPp7gwFqumswWruT5iUlwRG-o/s400/relax.png" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9zQIEM2WGGXiYF9mDlVZQjiySZkMPcSQdtFytka45YJ2biILNQzlNbMgRvtc7nPqzNxfbYu4kjvTZ4aC2laBh2EeN4TJuaODCZiwhYMLUy7k6qnrfh_qtyXT4Nb5f-HacUP_DDf2lYqe/s1600/dontdoit.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9zQIEM2WGGXiYF9mDlVZQjiySZkMPcSQdtFytka45YJ2biILNQzlNbMgRvtc7nPqzNxfbYu4kjvTZ4aC2laBh2EeN4TJuaODCZiwhYMLUy7k6qnrfh_qtyXT4Nb5f-HacUP_DDf2lYqe/s400/dontdoit.png" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJB5yXQM7JM-BRQgbdKvBL4EwjoNxK7oFTqH-YWG9AxuUXA_wdrAH35hEjcRxSt-o7g_ho5kAo1t_q2QsOl8GHEiXNbTLNqfLxMVhAcXsih98dK4m5rQQ3GtvVluD3ZgZ_eneglslo0-0h/s1600/whenyouwannagettoit.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJB5yXQM7JM-BRQgbdKvBL4EwjoNxK7oFTqH-YWG9AxuUXA_wdrAH35hEjcRxSt-o7g_ho5kAo1t_q2QsOl8GHEiXNbTLNqfLxMVhAcXsih98dK4m5rQQ3GtvVluD3ZgZ_eneglslo0-0h/s400/whenyouwannagettoit.png" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbld6LitrFEB3FaYCbR5xthrgk_1AP41Sm5zhUAMQR441maqMFfqucTomz-r3dkveOE9G5hfi4RFM8ameCSiKUP4SgETs3KRd5ee2YYRwFYOLF-fOFPL0Wq0z1NBO75dn8ZPgheoVdsea/s1600/HEUGH.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbld6LitrFEB3FaYCbR5xthrgk_1AP41Sm5zhUAMQR441maqMFfqucTomz-r3dkveOE9G5hfi4RFM8ameCSiKUP4SgETs3KRd5ee2YYRwFYOLF-fOFPL0Wq0z1NBO75dn8ZPgheoVdsea/s400/HEUGH.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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These are some little doodles for a game I was playing. Maybe I'll explain what they are someday. Maybe I'll make an actual post too but no one's holding their breath for that anymore now are they?Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-85443912167765752872016-06-18T20:57:00.001-07:002016-06-18T20:57:41.316-07:00Ubekem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Krazalo, ujet. Marak jhatri.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-57402629379563351572015-10-28T15:41:00.001-07:002015-10-28T15:41:10.430-07:00The PrimordialThe adventure in Pitchblende Flats came to an end a few weeks ago. The magma pocket responsible for the earthquakes compressed the richest deposit of uranium ore in the desert, causing it to undergo fission and explode. God's Candle, the radium mountain in the center of the blast was vaporized, spreading deadly radioactive dust all over the desert. All that was left was a smouldering crater and an expanding cloud of radioactive debris.<br />
<br />The players hijacked a biplane in order to escape. Despite my best efforts to make them die there in the desert and face all the mistakes they made, they made it out alive. This was in spite of the sky pirates, riots and some of the most powerful monsters in the game, the Radijastsks all standing in their way. But one of the players was left behind. Obtuse Goose's character Omaru stood in the middle of the desert, alone. The town of Trinity had been annihilated. All that was left was a swirling whirlwind of dust and the rising mushroom cloud in the distance.<br /><br />So Omaru wandered ground zero alone, looking for any survivors. Eventually, he found a smashed, overturned tank and a small gnoll laying in the shade of the burnt out hulk. The gnoll was delirious and covered in radiation burns, just barely clinging to life. Omaru scooped him up in his giant robotic hand. A quick scan revealed he was actually one of the Bristlefur gnolls from much earlier in the campaign, the only survivor of the player's previous murder spree.<br /><br />Benny Bristlefur was too hurt to notice as the robot took him away from the wreckage. And so, they were back to wandering the wastelands. After several hours of aimless walking, they happened across a small military camp full of refugees trying to escape the desert. Every one of them was irradiated and burnt to a crisp. Some simply laid down in the sand and died, just barely making it to the edge of the camp before they succumbed to radiation poisoning. Meanwhile the medics were frantically trying to set up a triage, forcing healing potions down the throats of anyone still breathing.<br /><br />Omaru walked into the camp and was greeted by awestruck stares. He towered over the hastily put together tents and half-melted military machines. A commander burst out of one of the tents and strode over to greet him. His eyes were hidden by mirror shades. He was angrily gnawing on the stem of a corncob pipe. He took one look at Omaru and started telling him the battle plan. Obviously, he was under the impression that Omaru was their backup from the rest of the occupying force.<br /><br />See, Pitchblende Flats was something of a buffer state between two huge nations vying for control of the region: the Principality of Tyrak and the Akrashtk Empire. With Trinity destroyed, there was no local government and thus, no one laying claim to the region. When news broke out that the desert had been destroyed there was a mad dash to lay claim to the ruins and thus, exclusive rights to mine the region's rich radioactive ores. Tyrak made it there first and were busy escorting refugees out of the blast zone. But they had already come under attack from an enemy force that was systematically raiding their forward camps, cutting off communication from one another. The commander told Omaru that they thought it was the Akrashtk at first. But the attacks seemed to be spreading outward, directly from the center of the explosion.<br /><br />News was still coming out of the front, in bits and pieces. The last the commander had heard, their main battle group was rerouted to fight whatever it was that was attacking their camps. No matter what they did, none of their weapons could stop it. He lowered his sunglasses and told Omaru that a single, massive creature had waded out of the fireball and was now rampaging across the desert.<br /><br />The commander had a map brought out and did his best to explain the situation. One of their hoverships had crash landed just south of their camp and he needed Omaru to go investigate. With luck, there would be some survivors and they could tell them something useful about the creature that attacked them. But as he went on explaining their plan, Omaru noticed a flickering orange light coming out of the dust cloud.<br /><br />More and more of the lights appeared, until the camp was completely surrounded. The soldiers got into position and prepared for the worst. Omaru stood in the middle of the camp and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. The lights came closer and soon they realized a horde of fire elementals were coming to burn down the camp. The soldiers opened fire from their machine gun nests. Omaru swept the entire field with his mining laser, the bright red beam clearly visible in the dust cloud. Dozens of fire elementals were disintegrated as they charged the camp, but more of them kept coming. One of the machine guns jammed and an elemental lept into the fox hole. It started cooking off entire belts of ammunition with it's intense body heat. The whole camp suddenly went up in flames. The still dying, radioactive locals started to panic. Omaru and Benny threw everything they had at the elementals. One after another, they were disintegrated, leaving heaps of ash and embers were they were cut down. Eventually, they drove off the elemental. The last few stragglers were swept away by the last working machine gun. As the whole camp burned around them the commander told Omaru they were leaving. It was up to him now to find the downed hovership and get to a working radio. It was obvious there was no salvaging this situation. All that was left was to find a way to get in touch with headquarters and authorize "protocol 2000-0-0".<br /><br />And so, Benny and Omaru went south, following a tall plume of oily black smoke, fighting fire elementals the whole way. Omaru's audio sensors are some of the best on the planet and through the deep rumbling of the distant earthquakes and the sudden upsurges of magma he could hear the sounds of battle far away and a single droning growl, growing louder and louder with ever second. Huge, crashing 'thuds' were approaching in a measured, steady pace.<br /><br />A dull orange light appeared over the horizon as they approached the mesa ruins, like a distant wildfire getting closer and closer. Before the explosion, the mesas were enormous pillars of red stone, which had stood there for generations upon generations. Living on top of the stories tall rocks were nomadic tribes of sky pirates and in the deep canyons were cool springs of fresh water. Shielded from the desert sun, huge clusters of fragrant cacti once grew. Wild Radijastks had called the mesas home, but no longer. All that was left were splintered heaps of pulverized rock, mountains of gravel smouldering in the dust cloud.<br /><br />But they were closing in on the signal from the hovership. All the while the distant light grew brighter. Eventually, they found it. The ship had been smashed to pieces and a thin line of molten metal cut across the body of the craft, as if another laser had swept across it. Two survivors were struggling to call someone over the radio. When they saw Omaru and Benny approach they ran over and started telling them a wild story of what they had seen. There was a huge crater where the radium mountain once stood. When they went to investigate something crawled out and walked right past them like they weren't even there.<br /><br />All the while the light grew brighter and fire elementals stampeded down the hill. A single, bright point appeared in the distance; a shiny blue stone, like a giant crystal appeared, wreathed in flame. It grew larger and brighter; the crystal sitting atop a swirling, churning body of fire, with three enormous legs of flame striding across the desert. Even from so far away, it was easily taller than the mesas ever were, but it just kept coming closer, seemingly growing with every long, marching step.<br />
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<br />I expected Benny and Omaru to go run for cover. But Obtuse Goose had other plans. He stood in the path of the tripod and told me he was rolling to attack it.<br /><br />I smiled and told him to go for it. He fired a long, continuous beam right into the body of the creature. It's firey skin erupted, sending small spurts of flame flying, which fell to earth and formed new fire elementals as they came tumbling down. With every step the tripod came closer, every time it's long legs slammed into the ground, a gout of flame would shoot out and two or three new elementals came leaping out of the blast. The creature flared up and let out a long, bellowing roar that rumbled the whole desert. The laser wasn't working, so he decided to charge it and smash it with his rocket hammer.<br /><br />Benny and the pilots shot at the elementals as Omaru charged. One of the legs came crashing down almost on top of them, a huge ball of fire erupting from it's footprint. Omaru jumped through the air as the rocket hammer ignited. The massive hammer head collided with it's leg. The pillar of flame erupted right in his face and the bottom half evaporated into incandescent light. The creature stumbled but found it's balance and roared once more.<br /><br />It reared up it's other leg, reaching high above the clouds of radioactive dust. For a good minute or so it stood there, reading up to stomp them into the dirt. The fire elementals fled and after a long, tense moment, the creature brought it's leg crashing down like a distant meteor. It slammed into the dirt and a huge shockwave bloomed from the impact, sending everyone scattering. The hovership tumbled end over end, shredding into a pile of incoherent steel.<br /><br />A vortex appeared in the body of the tripod as a low humming growl reverberated through the crystal. A bright yellow, then blinding white light appeared in the center of the vortex. It braced itself...then a single explosion erupted, then another. The players caught a glimpse of a single missile flying through the air and exploding against the tripod's giant crystal. A hovership arced across the sky and started blindly firing into the legs of the creature. It's engines roared as it struggled to climb high enough to face the body of the monster.<br /><br />The vortex grew as it turned to face the ship. Suddenly, a thin beam of bright, white light fired out of the body of the creature. The ship dropped altitude, the beam just barely skirting the body of the craft as it tumbled into a frantic spin, sparks flying as the beam danced across it's surface. The ship jerked upward and sped off in the other direction. The creature followed, it's long legs striding a mile with every step. And with that, the desert went dark again.<br /><br />The pilots were amazed (and dying of radiation poisoning). After everything they've seen they told Omaru there was only one person left who would know how to kill this thing. They were headed to where her ship touched down, but the monster melted one of their engines before they could make it. The other pilot nodded and said "if anyone's still got a plan, it's her" and showed him their map. In the ruins of Great Dig was the last person with any idea of what this thing was and maybe, just maybe, a weapon capable of destroying it.<br /><br />Omaru marched north, with Benny and the pilots resting on his shoulders. They crossed the desert, hoverships and fighter planes high in the sky. Far in the distance the mushroom cloud could be seen blowing away on the wind. A steady rain of ash pelted them as they made their way northwest. The pilots assured him they were getting closer. On the infrared spectrum he could just barely make out a small, boxy shape half buried in the sand. A single small body was standing watch, staring right back at him. As they got closer he could just barely make out the markings on the ship. A hatch opened and a small gnoll woman, her midsection wrapped in a bloody rag hobbled out, balancing on a crutch. A small, beetle or crab-like creature stepped out after her, holding a wooden stick out, ready to attack the approaching robot. They had finally found their savior: Dr. Alamos and the missing Kretak miners, neither of which were happy to see him.<br /><br />She tried to waddle back inside the badly battered Kretak ship. The aliens rallied around her and started shouting at him in their strange alien language. Benny and the pilots tried to reason with them and after a long argument, they settled down to listen to what he had to say.<br /><br />See, Omaru had been travelling with Haydn's character Wilfred and in all that time they did nothing but murder the locals, burn down what little vegetation they had and did everything to make themselves look like the villains. And no one suffered as badly as Dr. Alamos or the Kretak (or the Bristlefurs for that matter). All she wanted to do was uncover the mystery behind the earthquakes and in return Wilfred murdered her colleagues and planted a bomb in her truck.<br /><br />"THIS IS YOUR FAULT!" She screamed at the robot, foaming at the mouth. "YOU BLEW UP MY TRUCK, YOU SHOT ME IN THE STOMACH! LOOK AT ME! I CAN'T EVEN USE THE BATHROOM LIKE A NORMAL PERSON BECAUSE OF YOU!!!"<br /><br />The Kretak didn't have it any better. They were still getting used to this whole magic fantasy world thing and were ready to worship Omaru as a god a few days ago. But Wilfred and the other player, Minamillion incited a holy war. Omaru could have helped but instead, he let them tear each other apart and now their leader was dead for their trouble. But with a single promise, he pacified everyone.<br /><br />"If you help me," He said in his thick, robotically Russian accent, "I kill tiny lizard." Everyone was happy.<br /><br />Dr. Alamos agreed to show him what she had been working on. She was planning to use it to neutralize the magma pocket. But that chance had come and gone, now, there was only one thing to do with it. She had the Kretak lift the tarp and unhook it from the ship. A single, long metal tube ending in a hertz horn detonator. Wires ran across it's length. In white paint, it's name was printed across the metal casing, "The Gadget".<br /><br />"I didn't have much to work with," Dr. Alamos said. "But I was able to get some refined uranium and it has a plutonium kicker in the central fission mass. When that detonator goes off, the explosives in the back will launch the rest of the uranium into the mass, hopefully bringing it up to critical." She looked up at the robot. "I'm expecting a yield of 11 kilotons, maybe less. But we can't fly up high enough to drop it though."<br /><br />Omaru looked out at the horizon. The tripod stood like a massive pillar of fire in the desert, growing closer and closer. "I try laser, it does not work." He said. "I try hammer, it does not work." He picked up the bomb and hefted it over his shoulder. "This? This will work."<br /><br />Everyone else crammed themselves into the cramped little shuttle and closed the door behind them. Omaru ran off in the other direction with the bomb overhead. All the while the tripod came closer and closer. A horde of fire elementals followed close behind. The only light came from the massive army and the impossibly tall being that continued to spawn them. As they closed in, a vortex appeared in the body of the tripod and a beam of white light blasted the ashen landscape, searing the air with it's incredible heat. Omaru dodged and hefted the bomb high over his shoulders. He landed on top of an elemental, crushing it. Then, he hoisted the bomb like a javelin and with all the might his atomic reactor could muster, he launched the bomb through the air. Steam erupted from his joints. He watched as the bomb soared through the dust cloud. Higher and higher it went until it came crashing down right at the feet of the tripod. A bright light shone. His audio sensors screamed on every channel.<br /><br />The bomb exploded, vaporizing the elementals in an instant. The tripod disappeared into the explosion. Omaru's Geiger counters went off the charts. Dr. Alamos's bomb worked, Pitchblende Flats had been nuked for the second time that day.<br /><br />The journey through the desert was a long, dull one. Another mushroom cloud bloomed on the horizon. Omaru carried the remains of the shuttle on his shoulder. Benny and the pilots were celebrating, but Dr. Alamos was sitting on Omaru's other shoulder, questioning him about what happened. She was proud the bomb had worked (saying she never doubted it would) but something disturbed her. It was far fetched, but according to her calculations, the magma, nor the plutonium thought to have been under the desert was enough to make such a huge crater. That creature, had to have supplied plenty of it's own energy to make such a violent quake. Omaru asked her what it could have been, why hadn't he heard of it before?<br /><br />She looked him in the eye and told him, "Tartora, the Primordial. No ones heard of it because it was last seen hundreds of years ago, when the first world war was fought. We always knew it was buried somewhere deep in Chmatra, but I never thought it would reawaken, here, now."<br /><br />She told him the legend of the Primordials, Chmaku's first creations when the world was young. They were tasked with making the world full of life, but when Chmaku was split into the modern gods they lost their master. They saw the life they had created as meaningless without him there to be pleased. They rampaged across the world, destroying all they could to be replaced with new life. The gods had locked them away, banished them deep to the core of the world or into the heart of the sun. They reawoke, sometimes, some more than others, but it was always a portent of worse times ahead when a Primordial once again walked the world.<br /><br />The survivors found one last hovership as it was touching down for landing. The last ride out, it was evacuating a camp. Fire elementals were closing in from all sides as they ushered the last few refugees into the cabin. There was a long, tense moment when Omaru bounded over the dunes as fast as he could. The hovership crew yelling and screaming for him to make it in time as elementals closed in on all sides. He lept over a sandbag barrier and tossed his armful of refugees into the cabin. The ship started to take off, it's massive engines roaring and kicking up huge plumes of dust. Omaru jumped and clung to the underside of the ship as it lifted off, elementals snarling and snapping at his shines as they flew away.<br /><br />And as they flew off into the sunset they could see a shape forming far to the south west; a pillar of fire and the glow of a blue gem stone. Tartora wasn't going to be stopped with just one bomb. The pilot leaned back at told them the commander authorized 2000-0-0, they were officially done with this operation. The survivors sped off to greener pastures as missiles arched over the horizon. The last thing they saw was Tartora standing in the middle of the desert, watching as all of Tyrak's most powerful bombs came down to greet it. Shielding their eyes, everyone knew even <i>this</i> wouldn't be the last time they would see Tartora.<br />
<br />Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-91564202128471874672015-10-05T21:39:00.001-07:002015-10-05T21:39:22.412-07:00Tartora<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The very big thing Omaru's currently fighting in the desert.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-72085733999934781692015-09-12T18:56:00.002-07:002015-09-12T19:00:18.711-07:00Tehanisquatsi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-55108423509137567792015-08-29T19:11:00.000-07:002015-08-29T19:11:49.206-07:00Rock Lobster Part IIIMy game was in shambles.<br />
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Dead technocrats littered the camp. Johan failed to save a single father from electrocution. Now the whole desert is teetering on the brink of disaster and the players are no closer to answers. Exploring the camp, they found the key to the technocrats plans: an enormous nuclear-powered robot, like a giant metal bowling ball on three squat hydraulic legs. A quick examination showed just how broken down it was. The whole thing needed a complete overhaul and it's reactor shielding was cracked right down the middle. It never came up in the game, but if the technocrats lived a little longer they would have explained that the first to repair the robot would have been appointed leader. Using it, they would have brought their new scientific order to the people of Trinity. So yes, they <i>were </i>villains. But the players still ended up looking worse thanks to their wanton destruction.<br />
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This was also going to tie into the lobster man's problem. Because the water the technocrats were hoarding wasn't just any old water, it was <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heavy_water">heavy water</a> intended for the robot's nuclear reactor. But again, irrelevant.<br />
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As the players made their way further north there was a loud roar of engines flying overhead. A huge metal box soared past them and came to a graceful landing a few miles away. It had strange alien markings all over it's surface and was towing a huge metal cylinder under it's body. I told everyone to imagine something like to the shuttle from <i>District 9</i>. The players finally found it: the missing Kretak dropship.<br />
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Finally, they were back on track. They would meet up with the Kretak, get Urmon's enchanting supplies and finally get out of this desert. Even better, they could drop of the huge piece of scientific equipment they'd been lugging around since their visit to Tory 401. All they needed to do was not cause needless conflict.<br />
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The hike to the Kretak camp took several hours. It was late evening by the time they made it to the other edge of the Glowing Pond and found the wall made of gutted, rusted cars. A single Kretak guard was there to greet them and luckily for the players, it recognized Wilfred. It crawled down from it's perch and started leading them back to camp. It clattering wildly. Omaru's radio filled with static as the rest of the Kretak came out to see them. Several dozen of the alien creatures where there, safely hidden under layers of armor and environmental conditioning. Each one carrying a tank of the exotic gas mixture they breathed on their home planet.<br />
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The camp was cobbled together from old environmental pods, the remains of their mothership and whatever junk they had scavenged since being stranded on Chmatra. On the edge of camp was the Kretak dropship, still unloading it's cargo. Beside it was a large cylindrical object hidden under a tarp. The Kretak leader quickly ushered Wilfred over to it's workbench and operated a few dials on it's console. A display lit up and suddenly a huge holographic image formed before the players.<br />
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A map of Pitchblende Flats appeared, with arrows indicating every major mining operation for miles around. In the center was God's Candle, the radium mountain. God's Candle was the richest source of radioactive ore in the entire world, but also the most inhospitable. The mountain was composed entirely of radium and it's decay products, spewing radioactive gas in a huge cloud around it. Every night, the mountain could be seen from all over the desert, glowing a faint green.<br />
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The hologram spun around, showing the land deep beneath the surface. The radium deposit under God's Candle came into view as a bluish-green blotch. All around it were deposits of uranite, coffinite, zeunerite and all manner of other radioactive ores. Another spot appeared far below the virtual surface. Colored purple, it flashed several times and the Kretak leader pointed to it. A huge red wave, signifying hot magma started to pulse upward, compressing the purple ore. It heated as the pressure squeezed it from all sides. Alien numbers and symbols danced across the display as the purple spot continued to compress. Then, without warning, it exploded, bombarding the uranite above it, which then exploded itself.<br />
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The whole simulated desert started to tear itself apart as more and more of the uranium started to undergo fission. After mere seconds, all that was left was a smouldering crater in the virtual sand. The Kretak turned to face the players, to see if they <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_nuclear_fission_reactor">understood</a>.<br />
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There was a local legend shared among prospectors. It was believed that uranium wasn't the only fission fuel dragged to the surface by the earthquakes. Somewhere out in the desert, far past the high-radiation zone of God's Candle there was a huge deposit of pure <i>weapons-grade</i> plutonium. It's said that the plutonium is so rich in that deposit that it can be placed in a bomb without any other refining and still explode with the force of several megatons of TNT. Mining such a deposit would make a prospector rich beyond their wildest dreams. And now, the Kretak were trying to tell the players that the plutonium <i>exists</i>, they <i>found it</i> and more, the volcano under the surface was going to make it explode with enough force to wipe the desert off the face of Chmatra.<br />
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A second simulation appeared, only this time, the scene zoomed in to show a drill digging deep behind the high-radiation zone, straight down into the plutonium deposit itself. A virtual miniature of the Kretak dropship appeared above the bore hole and the scene zoomed in again. A long cylindrical shape fell out of the ship and froze above the lip of the hole. The cylinder exploded open to reveal it's inner workings, revealing a small bomb and two subcritical masses at either end of the assembly.<br />
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The scene zoomed out and the bomb fell down the bore hole. It reached the plutonium and there was another explosion, only this time the deposit cracked apart. Pieces of it still went critical, some even formed a chain reaction with other rocks nearby. But most of it survived intact. All that was felt on the surface was a dull thud, like another short earthquake had struck. The Kretak turned the hologram off and turned to face the players.<br />
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Suddenly, Nick had an idea. The Kretak could only explain so much through pictures, but his character had just gained the ability to <i>create minor reality</i> last session. He asked if his character could use his ability to alter reality to <i>rewire his own brain</i> in order to speak fluent Kretak. I told him <i>yes, absolutely</i>. But be careful, because if it doesn't work he'll end up with brain damage or just <i>die</i> right there in front of everyone. We all agreed it was worth the risk and he rolled.<br />
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He got a 5 (on a d6). And right before everyone's very eyes, Minamillian started speaking fluent Kretak Interworld. Immedat<br />
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"It is because I am <i>God</i>." He said. <br />
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<br />Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-88488566884629627122015-08-28T23:11:00.000-07:002015-08-28T23:42:45.868-07:00Rock Lobster Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last session, Wilfred and his gang of bandits met the wizard Urmon and his staff. After a brief misunderstanding with his apprentice, he promised them that if they retrieved his spell book and magic dust and what have you, he would enchant their weapons and make them several orders of magnitude more deadly than they already were. The players agreed and made their way north, into the marshes surrounding the Glowing Pond, the second-most radioactive destination in all of Pitchblende Flats.<br />
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This was around the time Obtuse Goose invited his friend to play. I wanted him to have fun so I tried to ease him into the setting and explain the world of Chmatra. But the more I tried to rationalize the talking cow people and robots the more I realized that I didn't even really know what was happening at this point. Any semblance of a goal had vanished long ago. After the pie lady died it was really just a matter of everyone following Haydn's character, Wilfred around the desert, looking for more people to kill. But none of it mattered anyway, because by the time I was done explaining the details of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natural_nuclear_fission_reactor">naturally occurring fission reactions</a> I realized he didn't really care anyway. He was just along for the ride. <br />
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And that was just fine with me, since I figured it probably meant he'd stay out of trouble. With that, they were off. Travel through the bogs was long and arduous as they struggled against the mud and tried to weave a safe path through the zones of intense radiation. A sickly green light filled the air. Balls of luminous swamp gas floated eerily through the fog. As they reached the waters edge the mud started to bubble around them and before they knew it, a arm reached out of the muck and grabbed their mechanic, Travis. A mud monster pulled itself out of the underbrush and started trying to eat the hapless elf where he stood. Everyone else rolled for initiative. Wilfred fired into the monster. And since he's extremely overpowered he got a whole handful of rolls and dozens of bullets to use. He squeezed the trigger, neatly severing the mud man's arm in a hail of gunfire. The rest of the bullets plunged deep into the body of the monster, doing nothing.<br />
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The bog beast started flailing Travis around as more creatures started to form out of the murk. Nick's character, Minamillion killed one with a fireball. I asked Twitch what his temporary character Mikial would be doing. He snorted over the microphone and flatly refused to do anything. "He's an elf right? Forget that, he's on his own." I couldn't really do anything about that. It was out of character for Mikial, sure. But then again it's nice to see elves get <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ScrewYouElves">whats coming to them</a>.<br />
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More swamp monsters appeared. Wilfred kept shooting, Minamillion kept launching fireballs. Omaru did nothing. Suddenly there was a stream of gunfire from the lake and what looked like miniature rockets started cutting through the mud men. As the creatures scattered a large shape appeared from the water and waved at the party with a huge barnacle-encrusted claw. A pair of yellow eyes appeared out of the fog. A huge lobsterman came striding out of the lake, carrying a hi-tech assault rifle in one of his claws.<br />
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He greeted the players and jokingly asked what they were thinking wandering into a radioactive, monster-infested swamp. They didn't have an answer for him. Instead, everyone decided to immediately start lying to the guy who saved them. Since Wilfred and Devereaux were both journalists, they tried to convince the lobsterman that he'd been picked as a contestant on a new reality game show. He would be competing against several other eligible bachelors for Devereaux's hand in marriage. He was instantly seduced.<br />
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Lovestruck by the elf woman wandering into his swamp, he led them up the shore while telling the party what a great candidate he was. He had been living in the swamp for a few years by that point. He and his previous wife moved out there when he got a job at the local dam. Back then, a huge river went through the desert and the swamp was a fertile delta. But after a series of intense earthquakes the river was rerouted and the marshes started to dry up. "All that's left" He said. "Are the stagnant pools here. When the earthquakes shook us it cracked the dam right down the middle and threw up the radioactive dust clouds. That's what killed me first wife, bless her soul."<br />
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Devereaux kept feeding him lines about what a <i>strong</i>, <i>crunchy</i> lobsterman he was. But Wilfred wasn't listening. He was just eyeing his rifle the whole time. I made a point of describing the gun as very unusual looking, like an <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FG_42">FG 42</a> made of advanced polymer plastic, something it shouldn't be possible to build on Chmatra.<br />
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And it wasn't actually; it never came up in the game itself but the gun was actually a IPTA assault rifle designed for astronauts. Chmatra drifts across the multiverse, with wormhole storms opening in the upper atmosphere all the time. Junk from all over the multiverse comes raining down on the planet all the time. Sometimes it's Beanie Babies, which local shamans hoard as powerful totem animals. Sometimes it's alien home appliances, advanced pieces of technology they assume are powerful weapons and death rays but end up being something like a pasta strainer. In the case of the lobsterguy, it was an InterPlanetary Trade Administration <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gyrojet">gyrojet rifle</a>, firing 13mm rocket propelled bullets. The gun was from the moon Titan in the year 2137 AD (and incidentally, from my science fiction setting which remains mostly unrelated to this game). Again, the players never knew any of this.<br />
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Meanwhile, the lobsterman was telling the players his life story. Before his wife died she laid a clutch of eggs they kept hidden in the least polluted part of the lake. Since then, a new group of people moved into the dam and started stockpiling all the fresh water for themselves. "If I don't get clean water soon I don't know if the kids'll make it." he said.<br />
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Lobsterdad lead them to the ruins of the old dam. "There," He said. "I don't know what their deal is, but they've been hogging all the junk, all the good water and everything for themselves. They won't even let me back up there and I practically ran the place. No respect for honest working people, I tell you..." So, the players snuck up the wall and peaked inside neighbor's camp.<br />
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A bull man was giving a speech on a cobbled together stage, extolling the virtues of society based on the scientific method. His peers, a cow woman, gnoll and a dwarf were sitting around him. Each one of them were bristling with cybernetic augmentations; robotic limbs, electronic eyes, metal plates grafted haphazardly onto flesh and bone. The players weren't impressed though and happily barged in on the rally. Immediately, they tried to convince the cyborgs that they were filming a documentary and wanted an exclusive interview with <i>them</i>. Otom Blackrock, the one speaking was all too happy to start lecturing them on <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Technocracy">the obsolescence of elected leaders, how a new ruling class of apolitical engineers would take control and that soon, a new order of scientism will reorganize society along new, logical, scientifically formulated strata</a>. Again, the players weren't interested.<br />
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"Hey," Twitch said. "What if we just killed these guys?" Haydn was hesitant at first but then Nick joined in. Chanel still wasn't paying attention. Before long, most everyone was okay with killing the Technocrats and Haydn was forced to relent. Suddenly, Obtuse Goose butted in.<br />
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"Hang on," He said. "I know you, you're trying to start something." Before then, Wilfred had been the driving force of evil in the party and only Omaru had done anything to stop him. Sure, he helped burn down the thorn thicket and <i>sure</i>, he never looked into the mysterious disappearance of all his babes. But whatever was going on he wasn't going to let Wilfred get away with it. I let him roll to fire a low power laser blast to stun Wilfred in his tracks. He got a six, and the tiny lizard fell to the ground, unconscious.<br />
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With the unexpected voice of reason silenced, Minamillian and Mikial launched fireballs at the cyborgs. Their electronics started to melt. Their servos ground helplessly as they tried to flee, their screams were distorted through their melting vocoders, muffled by the sounds of burning flesh, and sputtering vacuum tubes. Omaru did nothing.<br />
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The lobster man started to panic, pleading with the wizards to stop.<br />
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"Why not kill <i>him</i>." Nick said. Lightning flashed, and the lobster fell to the floor, sputtering and seizing. As the game master, I couldn't really forbid my players from taking certain actions, but I could definitely hint that they were taking a few steps down the slippery slope:<br />
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"Alright, you roll a five and <i>mercilessly fry</i> the <i>single father</i> as he <i>pleads</i> with you to <i>stop killing people</i>."<br />
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He was still squirming as the players were getting ready to finish him off. Wilfred was still unconscious. Chanel wasn't paying attention. I realized it was up to me. Me, and the little gnoll sitting in Devereaux's backpack. Suddenly, Johan leapt out and stood defiantly between the wizards and the dying lobster. He threw his little arms up to stop them and putting as much power into his meek voice as he could, he gave them an ultimatum.<br />
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"If you kill him, <i>you have to kill me too</i>!" He cried out. It was up to him now. If I had to sacrifice my favorite character to make them see reason, so be it. Live or die, Johan wasn't going to let this go any further. The smouldering remains of technocrats continued to convulse around him. The last survivor fled into the junkyard. Meanwhile the lobster was coughing up ichor, shuddering as sparks danced across his carapace. Omaru did nothing.<br />
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But Chanel heard Johan's name. I knew she was protective of him. I could count on her to change her mind about this senseless slaughter, even if it was just to protect him. She put herself between the lobster and the other players, scooped the little gnoll up...and went to the back of the group.<br />
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"Okay, now do whatever you were doing." She said.<br />
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Another pair of lightning bolts flashed and the lobster man slumped over, smoking from the joints in his shell. Omaru did nothing.<br />
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Wilfred started to wake up just as their guide stopped twitching. He took a look at the scene around him and without a word, stood up and started walking away.<br />
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And I knew in that moment, that the gods had abandoned these adventurers. Whatever noble quest they may have had was at an end. Whatever goodness was in them had vanished. All that was left was to take this as far as it could possibly go.<br />
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And I told myself, never <i>ever</i> let someone take control of an NPC <i>again</i>.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-75645329107397586042015-08-06T19:33:00.001-07:002015-08-19T22:19:12.665-07:00Rock Lobster Part IWe finally rejoin <a href="http://shadgrimgrvy.blogspot.com/2015/02/fear-and-loathing-on-chmatra.html">our heroes</a> as they continue their adventures in the wastes of Pitchblende Flats. It's been ages since anyone played my tabletop game. But I've finally been able to gather everyone together, pile them into the Steam chat and remind them why they all left in the first place.<br />
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When we left off, the players had just finished murdering a clan of Gnolls living in the desert. This came on the heels of another crime spree of theirs; releasing all the prisoners from jail and burning down the town of Trinity. The Bristlefur clan had befallen the players and their psychotic leader, Wilfred Sanddrinker one too many times and they had resolved to kill the innocent unassuming miners. Thankfully, the clan's matriarch sacrificed herself to buy her sons enough time to escape. Not so fortunately, one of those sons took that time to climb inside a bulldozer and ram 0M-4R-U, Obtuse Goose's character.<br />
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The last-ditch attack did nothing to harm the giant robotic monstrosity. Omaru smashed the bulldozer into pieces with a single blow, turning the driver into a thick red paste in his seat. Only a single Bristlefur gnoll made it out alive that night, last seen fleeing into the glowing desert to the north.<br />
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After the battle, the players kept going west. They heard a rumor about a powerful enchanter living on the edge of the mining claims. So, with no other quests or obligations, they set out to find Urmon's tower. After a day's hike through the desert, they found it; perched on a clump of fresh dirt and grass, the massive stone tower was leaning precariously to one side as if it materialized from another part of the world and fell on that spot.<br />
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Standing outside to greet them was Urmon's apprentice Karlo, who had been ineffectually sweeping up all the dust and sand kicked up by the tower's sudden appearance. He tried to say hello and welcome the players inside, but all he managed to do was offend them and make himself sound prejudiced against kobolds and robots. Thankfully they didn't kill him right away, more on that later.<br />
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Urmon himself and his fellow spellcaster Kelly were better received. The only problem was that Nick pointed out that the voice I put on for him sounded exactly like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kXiVSYmC0g">Dr. Orpheus</a>, so it was basically impossible to get through any kind of conversation with the guy and have them take it seriously. Nonetheless, the players were adamant about getting their weapons enchanted and were willing to spend a large sum of gold to do it.<br />
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"Alas" The wizard explained. "I can't help you, not since those filthy <i>crab people</i> and their <i>metal box</i> stole all my enchanting materials." Thankfully, everyone pieced two and two together and realized the wizard's tower was actually raided by the Kretak, a group of alien miners who only bore a resemblance to crab people. Finally, something like a plot was starting to form again. After killing the pie lady and burning down the town the players had been wandering more-or-less aimlessly, looking for something to kill. Now one of the most successful mining companies had gone off the grid, stolen magical artifacts they couldn't use and had gone missing somewhere in the wastelands to the north. I expected Wilfred, Minamillion and Omaru to start asking themselves the hard questions and touch on the larger conspiracy at work.<br />
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They didn't, but we <i>were</i> getting somewhere.<br />
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And with that, they had their new mission and were back on the road. As a parting gift, Urmon gave the organic members of the party his own specially brewed radiation resistance potions, the side effects of which are still unknown to them.<br />
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Next stop: the <i>Glowing Pond</i>, the last known location of the Kretak miners.<br />
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First, something needs to be said about Wilfred's personal minions. Travis Splinterpeak, elven car mechanic and Mikial Kalwilsko, gnoll wizard. The players met Travis back in Trinity when they were trying to engineer a rotary Gatling-style shotgun for Omaru. By that point, everyone was terrified of the ten-foot tall robot and the only mechanic in town who agreed to help them was Travis. From the outset it was clear he was <i>way</i> too enthusiastic about building their newest superweapon and clearly had some issues he needed to work out. Wilfred agreed to bring him along since they were planning on burning down the town anyway. And Travis <i>was</i> a pyromaniac.<br />
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Later, when the group was fighting the Bristlefur's <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiger_I">Tiger tank</a>, Travis leapt into the crew cabin (while it was on fire) and started headbutting all the gnolls inside. He was unfortunately knocked unconscious but managed to distract the crew long enough for the other players to hurl fireballs into it's radiator. From then on, when he wasn't being knocked unconscious Travis's role in the party was either getting into fist fights or carrying Wilfred around on his shoulders.<br />
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Then there's Mikial, who's been with the group longer than most of the players. Originally the court mage for a backwater swamp kingdom, he had recently tried to feed Wilfred to a pack of sandworms after having second thoughts on the direction his life was taking. Wracked with guilt, he had been a faithful yes man ever since.<br />
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Now everyone was ready to brave the dangers of the Glowing Pond, the most polluted body of water in Pitchblende Flats. But we had a guest player that week. Obtuse Goose invited his friend Twitch to join the game to see what he'd think of my setting. Rather than have him make a new character I lent him Mikial. It seemed like a good choice, since Mikial was a big coward anyway and spent most fights hiding behind the bigger members of the party. To me at least, it seemed like a safe place to put him. More on this later.<br />
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My sister rejoined the game around this time too. Her character Devereaux was a journalist by trade, like Wilfred, and had her own minion she picked up in the swamps: Johan Axegrinder. Johan had been a guard in the king's gatehouse until the players framed him for terrorism. He joined them when it became clear his whole homeland was going to be destroyed in a civil war and had been riding in Devereaux's backpack ever since. He's easily <i>the least</i> evil member of the party and spent most of his time up to that point trying to find a peaceful way of resolving whatever crisis faced them. Part of the reason he doesn't gel well with the rest of the group is that he's the only one who hasn't committed any kind of murder, wanton or not.<br />
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Finally, everyone was gathered together again. They faced the poisonous wasteland ahead of them with nothing but steely determination. A larger conspiracy was brewing just beneath the surface. But with luck, they would accidentally stumble upon it on their next great unrelated killing spree. But little did I know I would be facing the greatest disaster of my gaming career. We didn't know it, but the session was about to take a turn for the worse and the game was about to enter a much darker place.<br />
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Tune in next week for Part II, where the players explore the ruins of the dam, meet the Kretak and ruin more lives than you can possibly imagine.<br />
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Finally, here's Slithers:<br />
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Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-8024386714776195262015-05-19T14:11:00.002-07:002015-05-23T23:56:33.920-07:00Quantum Of Distress<i>Science is hard.</i><br />
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But more than that, science is hard to keep up with. Everyday it seems like there's a new discovery being made that completely changes our understanding of the Universe. If you had told me a couple weeks ago someone invented a real-life reactionless drive using only the magnetron from a microwave oven and the contents of his garage I would have said you're a dirty liar. But now look, NASA is experimenting with a reproduction of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/EmDrive">that very same device</a> and they <i>still</i> haven't come up with a good explanation for how it works.<br />
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As someone who writes science fiction semi-regularly I find the burden of scientific accuracy a little overwhelming at times. I could spend months designing a fictional rocket and all it's components; the nuclear reactor, the deck plan, weapons and give it the most robust and accurate engineering I can. And sure, I could sell the idea to Reader's Digest and rake in millions. But it will all mean exactly <i>zilch</i> if a few weeks after publishing NASA appears and announces they've invented honest-to-God anti-gravity. It's impossible to keep up with every new scientific discovery and sooner or later any piece of science fiction will succumb to what TVTropes calls <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/Zeerust">Zeerust</a>.<br />
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I accept that everything I write here and now will one day be seen as dated, even <i>quaint</i>. But if my fictional universe is doomed to being hopelessly antiquated then at least it's going to be <i>consistent</i>.<br />
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Here in 2015, there are dozens and dozens of theories regarding the possibly <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_gravity">quantum nature of gravity</a>. Some of these were formulated simply to reconcile General Relativity with Quantum Mechanics (two very very different fields with completely incompatible equations), while others have the lofty goal of becoming a so-called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theory_of_everything">Theory of Everything</a>, a theory so complete in it's description of the physical world that it can predict and explain every aspect of the physical Universe.<br />
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As for potential Theories of Everything or the less ambitious Grand Unified Theories, there's plenty of candidates to choose from. Of course you have <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/String_theory">String Theory</a>, the lesser known but still very interesting <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loop_quantum_gravity">Loop Quantum Gravity</a> and ugly ducklings like Supergravity or Euclidean Quantum Gravity. The problem is that there's so many to chose from and <i>none of them can be experimentally verified</i>. All these theories concern themselves with either <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Planck_scale">very small or very energetic environments</a>; conditions we're <i>physically incapable</i> of interacting with. So who knows what's really going on down there. We certainly don't, because our giant, fat instruments make a mess of everything we're trying to observe. This is part of the reason why some believe the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncertainty_principle">Heisenberg Uncertainty Principal</a> isn't due to the actual nature of subatomic particles, but is actually a result of the limitations of our giant Human measuring equipment.<br />
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The point is that any one of these theories could be correct and I have no way of knowing which one that might be.<br />
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I'm getting ahead of myself of course. Because before we can even <i>hope</i> to unify Relativity and Quantum Mechanics we need to figure out how we've even supposed to <i>interpret</i> Quantum Mechanics. As you know, Quantum theory is very strange, some would say frightening. Much of what goes on down there is open to interpretation and the math supports plenty of daffy ideas. For example, when you take a measurement of a particle's position or momentum (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uncertainty_principle">but not both</a>), what's really going on? Was the particle behaving like a wave and you've just collapsed it into a particle? Are you getting interference from an unseen pilot wave? Or have you inadvertently created an <i>alternate timeline</i> where your measurements were different? <i>Nobody knows</i>.<br />
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The most common interpretation by a wide margin is of course the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copenhagen_interpretation">Copenhagen Interpretation</a>. It has the distinction of being the most widely accepted and visible interpretation and also the one with the most <i>crazy stuff </i>going on under the hood. This is the one that gives us such weirdness as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wave%E2%80%93particle_duality">wave-particle duality</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wave_function_collapse">wave function collapse</a>; strange circumstances that probably don't even accurately describe the nature of subatomic matter but is as close as we're going to get to really understanding it using our feeble Human minds.<br />
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Then there's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pilot_wave">Pilot Wave Theory</a> which asserts that the bizarre behavior of particles has less to do with them being probabilistic bundles of energy and more to do with 'hidden variables' called pilot waves: ripples particles leave in the fabric of space-time as they pass through. These waves 'remember' the path the particle took and influence the motion of all subsequent particles that pass through it, providing a handy explanation for unusual behavior like what's observed in the famous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Double-slit_experiment">double-slit experiment</a>.<br />
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Or you could stick with the old sci-fi standby of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Many-worlds_interpretation">Many Worlds Interpretation </a>and toss all those sticky questions regarding wave-functions in an alternate timeline.<br />
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But this is just the tip of the iceberg. There's a plethora of unanswered questions in physics and each one could have a potentially bizarre answer that totally changes our understanding of reality. For example, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Many-worlds_interpretation">what is the origin of mass</a>? We don't know because the concept of mass is so intertwined with gravity and like I said earlier, we don't know what gravity <i>even is</i> at the quantum level. Is mass actually the symmetry breaking Higgs field? W Z Bosons we haven't detected yet? <i>Nobody knows</i>.<br />
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How can neutrinos of a specific lepton flavor <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neutrino_oscillation">suddenly have an entirely different flavor</a>? Do they spontaneously transform into a different particle?<br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baryogenesis">Why is there so much more matter than anti-matter in our universe?</a><br />
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What is <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_matter">dark matter</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dark_energy">dark energy</a>? Is it <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zero-point_energy">zero-point energy</a>? The <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cosmological_constant">cosmological constant</a>? <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Azathoth">Another universe </a><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Attractor">absorbing our own</a>?<br />
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Who knows how long it'll take to answer all these questions. Some of them might <i>never</i> be answered. Well, I am not a scientist. But I <i>am</i> someone aiming to write a gripping sci-fi yarn so a few weeks ago I decided I wasn't going to wait for real results from the LHC. Instead, I'll come up with my own fictional Grand Unifying Theory; one that was complete in it's description of the physical universe, that was consistent with all our experimental data <i>so far</i> and allowed for plenty of <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AppliedPhlebotinum">wacky circumstances</a> like negative mass, anti-gravity or the Alcubierre drive; <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/GreenRocks">phenomena conducive to a good science fiction story</a> that haven't been disproven <i>yet</i>.<br />
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I call my fictional theory the Theory of Choice as it'll be fine tuned for exactly the sort of stories I want to tell and take all of what I consider the most interesting and probable explanations that are floating around in the physics community right now.<br />
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In all likelihood, my pet theory will be disproven ten, maybe twenty years from now. But in the meantime it'll serve as a good framework for the physics of my fictional universe, providing consistent and (hopefully) reasonable explanations for how all the technology therein works. And if any particular element gets disproven (like dark energy ends up being angry ghosts or something), well, I never said my fictional universe was supposed to be <i>our universe</i>. I'll just say in a press conference that my intellectual property takes place in an alternate timeline, similar to our own but with subtly different laws of physics. Until then I can claim perfect scientific accuracy.<br />
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How the Theory of Choice works is that I make a few sweeping assumptions about physics and from there, pick the real scientific theories that best fit those assumptions and slowly move down the list of unanswered questions , using explanations from the aforementioned theories until everything is more-or-less ironed out. It's slow going, partially because there are <i>just that many</i> unanswered questions in physics but mostly because I am dealing with heady scientific topics most laypeople don't even know exist. I still have no idea what <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CP_violation">CP Violation</a> is but it's important and <i>because</i> it's important I have to pretend I'm an actual astrophysicist and try to wrap my head around it.<br />
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First, the assumptions: in the ToC, the universe is probabilistic, not deterministic. Second, gravity is quantum but Relativity and Quantum Mechanics go ultimately unreconciled. Third, the origin of mass lies in the Higgs field, the Higgs Boson is not the only such particle of it's type and there are many more left to be discovered, each one capable of more and more bizarre gravity-like effects than the last. Finally, no matter what, the ToC must allow for travel to alternate realities, each more terrifying than the last. This last point is the most important as it allows the antagonists of my work to kill far more people than the total population of any one universe.<br />
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Right away, I can say that String Theory has no place in my fictional universe. It's not that I think String Theory is necessarily <i>wrong</i> or <i>bad</i>. I just feel like String Theory has ballooned far out of proportion and makes a lot of assumptions that aren't going to hold up to real-world experimentation. As of this writing, there's virtually no experimental evidence for String Theory and yet it enjoys widespread acclaim and support as the most likely candidate for the fabled Theory of Everything. Plus, String Theory's implication of an orderly and elegant universe is totally at odds with the kind of story I want to tell. String Theory describes an intricate tapestry of 11-dimensional manifolds, where matter arises from the subtle vibrations of mysterious bundles of energy. <i>Well not here it isn't</i>. My universe is a violent, unwholesome place; a cosmology of terror where life counts for nothing and there are only three spatial dimensions.<br />
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In my universe, there is no Theory of Everything and the interaction between gravity and the three fundamental forces is ultimately hazy and indistinct. There might not be a Grand Unifying Theory either, meaning there was never a time when electromagnetism and the weak and strong nuclear forces were unified as a single fundamental force. This goes back to the idea of a probabilistic universe. Here at least, God <i>really does</i> play dice with the universe. Everything that occurs in the subatomic world is hazy and left to chance, meaning that at it's most basic level, the universe is open to all sorts of unsettling unrealities.<br />
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This is why Pilot Wave Theory has no place in my universe either; it offers a logical, deterministic explanation for the strange behavior of particles with the introduction of pilot waves, injecting reality back into the study of Quantum Mechanics. Determinism and the idea that there is a logical, mechanical explanation for <i>everything</i> his has no place in my chaotic, ultimately nihilistic universe. Instead, I'll probably end up sticking with a modified form of the Copenhagen Interpretation, but it has problems of it's own.<br />
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The crux of the Copenhagen Interpretation is the wave function collapse: before observation, particles are in <i>superposition</i> where they occupy any number of energy states and locations. But after observation the wave 'collapses' and the particle inhabits a single energy state. Many have interpreted this as meaning a conscious observer is an essential part of quantum mechanics and that the conscious mind plays a large part in shaping the <i>nature of reality itself</i>. I want to avoid this as it opens the door to a lot of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_mysticism">New Age mysticism</a> and other <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_the_Bleep_Do_We_Know!%3F">hippy-dippy nonsense</a> I don't want to be involved with. Plus, this mindset <i>kind of </i>implies magic is involved.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong, there <i>is</i> magic in my setting, but it has it's own rules unrelated to physics at large and the less said about the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_mind">quantum mind</a>, the better.<br />
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Instead, I'll probably stick with something closer to the idea of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_decoherence">Quantum Decoherence</a>. But it's implications are little more far reaching than what I'm comfortable with. If I end up sticking with this route then I might not be able to justify the existence of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quantum_computing">quantum computers</a> in my setting, something I'm not too eager to let go of.<br />
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As for dark matter and dark energy; I think I'm going to stick with main stream opinion on these two. I'll claim that dark energy has actually been the cosmological constant this whole time, similar to what's proposed by the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lambda-CDM_model">Lambda-CDM model</a>. Dark matter is composed of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weakly_interacting_massive_particles">weakly interacting massive particles</a> (also known as WIMPs). This is the detritus left over after the Big Bang which have been counteracting the force of gravity ever since. Of course, there have been a few other interesting ideas regarding the identity of dark energy. My favorite comes from Christos Tsagas who in a paper published in <i>Physical Review D</i> claimed that there is <i>no such thing</i> as dark energy. Instead, the apparent expansion of the universe we observe is actually an illusion caused by the relatively fast motion of our corner of the universe compared to our neighboring galaxies. If he's right then all this fuss over phantom forces is ultimately pointless.<br />
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Beyond that, I like the idea of there being no <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supersymmetry">supersymmetry</a> as it reenforces the idea that this universe is altogether 'broken' or 'inelegant'. What this means for the aforementioned CP violation, I don't have a clue, but I might allow for <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spontaneous_symmetry_breaking">spontaneous symmetry breaking</a>. It's just something I'll have to work out later.<br />
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Finally, there's the question of the ultimate fate of the Universe. Personally, I prefer a scenario like the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Rip">Big Rip</a> destroying everything in the end, because it's more horrifying that way.<br />
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The Theory of Choice is an ongoing project, probably one I won't be finished with for many years, if at all. It relies on the work of <i>actual</i> physicists for me to iron out, so really nothing has changed. I'm still have to follow the latest news from scientific journals and letting their discoveries inform the nature of my science fictional universe. But the point is that the Theory of Choice is consistent and will make it easier to make a timeline of technological progress in this nightmare vision of the future. Plus, it'll be easier to keep track of just what <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MisappliedPhlebotinum">each technology is capable of</a>.<br />
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Do I think the real, physical universe is as probabilistic and inelegant as this fictional universe? It's hard to say really. Pilot Wave Theory was suppressed throughout much of the twentieth century in favor of the Copenhagen interpretation. Given the chance, I think it could have gone a long way to describing the physical world. But as it stands, Pilot Wave Theory is tragically under-researched and nowhere near as robust as the Standard Model, which I think will stand the test of time no matter how clunky it is. I think our desire to unify all the fundamental forces and find the superpartners of all the particles is a natural human tendency to see order and symmetry in every system we encounter. We just naturally like things to <i>make sense</i>, even if the universe might not on some hidden, fundamental level.<br />
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With that in mind, I still think String Theory is a load of malarkey.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-64073602094366343992015-03-10T21:19:00.000-07:002015-03-13T19:45:27.538-07:00Hooked On PhonicsI've been working on a Chmatran alphabet, partially for the game, but mostly just to develop the setting more. It's been an arduous experience but I think I finally came up with a group of symbols I'm happy with:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifa_8ot-66i38XqnFuAHdKn1xLYcchNklxgrEWJsAYAs_R2YJaQSABcf4EZkEJ48Q0RQAqe9H93u9W4saGq8Hcwaq2hRwroDGwPwCMhBcPBNDOJaM1_F3huph7pTpCS2PWHiNhtOLyoE9L/s1600/alphabet.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifa_8ot-66i38XqnFuAHdKn1xLYcchNklxgrEWJsAYAs_R2YJaQSABcf4EZkEJ48Q0RQAqe9H93u9W4saGq8Hcwaq2hRwroDGwPwCMhBcPBNDOJaM1_F3huph7pTpCS2PWHiNhtOLyoE9L/s1600/alphabet.png" height="100" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Chmatran writing system is very simple, befitting such a primitive culture. Their alphabet is unicase, with some symbols representing multiple consonant sounds. There's only one symbol for C and K. There's also only one symbol for G and J. For words with a C sound, readers must rely on cues from the rest of the word to determine what sound it makes. Incidentally, a native Chmatran would actually spell it 'Khmatra'. G sounds are represented by an H after the symbol. Going by Chmatran rules, to make the G sound in a word like 'go' it would have to be spelled 'jho'.<br />
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There's no letter for Q or X which are represented by a the KW or KS diagraph respectively (<i>kwantum </i>instead of <i>quantum</i> or <i>ekssterminate</i> instead of <i>exterminate</i>). Dropping these two from the list was a hard decision to make as Q and X are easily my favorite letters of our own alphabet. But the Chmatrans are a simple people and they need a simple writing system.<br />
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Words are spelled phonetically for the most part. But since International Chmatran lacks accent marks, they need another way to differentiate between long and short vowel sounds. To make a long vowel it's written twice. <i>Ka</i> is pronounced 'kah' whereas <i>Kaa</i> is pronounced 'kay'.<br />
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I don't have very many words in the dictionary yet. But once the grammar rules are robust enough I'll have time to work on a complete list of words and etymologies. Right away, I can say that many of their words related to the natural world could come from the root word for their fertility goddess, words related death could share their origin with the name of their god of death and so on. They'll probably have a dozen different words for genocide.<br />
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The only hard and fast rule for Chmatran words is that it must have a lot of hard consonant sounds and sound very rough and unsophisticated. Words I have stashed away so far include: ajhiir, jhaljhash, kalajhn, kefez, kreledesh, meka, nafas, otesh, radijastk and teratsk.<br />
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<br />Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-16632518456513136512015-02-23T20:10:00.002-08:002015-05-19T14:33:53.754-07:00Fear and Loathing on ChmatraSince I've had no time to make a proper blog post in, like, weeks I'm going to give you all the highlights reel from my tabletop game. Nick, one of the players, was kind enough to provide pictures of all the best moments of their adventure so far. So because I don't have time for anything anymore here's the growing collection from the scrapbook with the bare minimum of context.<br />
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First, the players themselves: Nick is playing as Minamillion, human sorcerer. Haydn's character is Wilfred Sanddrinker, kobold tabloid journalist and all around sociopath. Then there's Obtuse Goose who's been playing as 0M-4R-U, an enormous, ten foot tall nuclear powered robot with a mining laser attached to his shoulder.<br />
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All that needs to be said about the plot of my game is that everyone's been living in a vast radioactive desert, inhabited by all manner of prospectors hoping to strike it rich mining the deposits of uranium ore. There <i>were</i> a few competing factions who the players could either ally themselves with or fight but the players killed all the important characters almost as quickly as they met them. So as of right now, there isn't really a plot or story so much as there's three crazed bandits roaming around the desert looking for people to kill.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-eSeBGjEHYCp3EF54o7XN1OIS6soG3TwEczpa5Gk5jkN4UayIQUhAXQobHEa78Tk74G4Lbqf3kpMI4CU7XRk2u4AgEzBiJZHF2zJe3nHb2ZzV9qJlGHRGW3FK2jjDImgpu8Ly0NlQ_HQi/s1600/2z9e7ol.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-eSeBGjEHYCp3EF54o7XN1OIS6soG3TwEczpa5Gk5jkN4UayIQUhAXQobHEa78Tk74G4Lbqf3kpMI4CU7XRk2u4AgEzBiJZHF2zJe3nHb2ZzV9qJlGHRGW3FK2jjDImgpu8Ly0NlQ_HQi/s1600/2z9e7ol.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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In this picture we see 0M-4R-U and Wilfred riding through a brush fire they started. There <i>used</i> to be an important alchemist living in the thorn thickets north of town, but the players never got around to doing his quest. Instead, they burnt down his home, destroyed all his research and tried to convince him he started the fire himself. When that didn't work they shot him to death.<br />
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You'll notice 0M-4R-U has a gaggle of women perched on this shoulder. A few weeks ago his character started experimenting with being a bit of a robotic sugar daddy and managed to muster an impressive number of babes to join his entourage.<br />
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To be honest, one of my favorite things about this game has been Nick's interpretations of the events, especially his idea of Obtuse Goose's character. But as you can see below, Haydn had his own ideas:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Q5JLtoWIJ9iF_BSniWm479QQTnZYvKjKcRe33bKV0QKYmTdBOhjusPwkG7e7JGQoPbHGibReSr8H6Hs9xGnjrrY99dfWBvd4dKWoqQg-hrJpg0DXaKWzA8B06Y9p5VPUoSANJlHUsxiC/s1600/omaru.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Q5JLtoWIJ9iF_BSniWm479QQTnZYvKjKcRe33bKV0QKYmTdBOhjusPwkG7e7JGQoPbHGibReSr8H6Hs9xGnjrrY99dfWBvd4dKWoqQg-hrJpg0DXaKWzA8B06Y9p5VPUoSANJlHUsxiC/s1600/omaru.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Later, the players got trapped in an abandoned research facility and faced a fearsome creature known as a Hadris, which is a malevolent cloud of ammonia nitrate gas that seeks to destroy all life. The players struggled to find a way to defeat the evil cloud until Minamillion realized he could cast a spell that would break down the atomic structure of the otherwise invulnerable Hadris. His spell exposed them all to deadly radiation but they <i>did</i> manage to dissipate the cloud so we counted it as a victory. They're still sterile though.<br />
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Here's Minamillion getting half his faced dissolved by the Hadris' deadly acid touch.<br />
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It was around the same time that they were trying to kill the evil ammonia that Wilfred decided to try and kill off all of Omaru's babes. Since he's only one foot tall and didn't want to attract any attention to himself he tried to lure them, one by one, into the waiting mist of the Hadris. In spite of his best efforts, only Amber succumbed to the acrid wraith of the cloud.<br />
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After the Hadris was defeated the players explored the rest of the facility since they were still <i>technically</i> on a quest from the local baker/mob boss. While looking for an advanced radiation-detecting seismograph they stumbled across an enormous jellyfish living in the ventilation system.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxkyWVbbLVWHBUmQIT5v5wbaVswyvIrPWQVGQ52jCseCn8Mtddf9dMLGxIh02ngNz7BoaCMFhHkVSB73VgdpDuXAWFqiugOLgv2b55G_USgDz2tmXjqJbUfsEC662s7N-HSWlTjvaOatn/s1600/baup.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicxkyWVbbLVWHBUmQIT5v5wbaVswyvIrPWQVGQ52jCseCn8Mtddf9dMLGxIh02ngNz7BoaCMFhHkVSB73VgdpDuXAWFqiugOLgv2b55G_USgDz2tmXjqJbUfsEC662s7N-HSWlTjvaOatn/s1600/baup.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Here we see their minion and all around coward Mikial getting dragged back to the jellyfish's lair as Wilfred does his best to try and save him. Mikial used to be a respected mage of the Swamp King's court but Wilfred punched the king in question and plunged his kingdom into civil war. Mikial's been traveling with the players ever since. Truth be told, he has been a useful addition to their party, especially since he has the ability to magically dispel radiation on command. I've been trying to kill him off for this very reason, as he's the only thing standing between me and giving everyone radiation-induced vomiting fits.<br />
<br />
After their adventure in the lab, the players returned to town, got into a fight with the sheriff, burned down the entire town, their previous employer and any last traces of a coherent plot that were still clinging on by that point. They also picked up another minion along the way; Travis "Boomit" Splinterpeak, elven mechanic, pyromaniac and all around lunatic.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, the players were planning on paying a visit to their good friends, the Bristlefur Clan. The Bristlefurs had survived a previous run in the players. They happened across 0M-4R-U carrying a bus down the road one day and were so impressed they pulled over to take pictures.<br />
<br />
Well Wilfred wasn't having any of that so he rolled to convince Obtuse Goose that the camera was actually a death ray and the miners were trying to melt through his reactor casing. Obtuse, who was barely paying attention at the time, agreed to kill them. Using his laser, he melted clean through the armor of the Bristlefur's tank and managed to kill an intern in the ensuing explosion.<br />
<br />
Satisfied with the destruction they had caused, the players went on their merry way to kill an unrelated group of hyena-people. What they didn't count on was the camera surviving the fight. The surviving Bristlefurs happened across the wreckage, found the singed photos of the giant robot and assumed the worst.<br />
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The fight with the surviving Bristlefurs and their last remaining tank would take too long to describe. All you really need to know is that there was an hour-long debate on whether or not they could knock Wilfred off the tank by smacking him in the head with the gun. I said they could and everyone else maintained that he was too short and it would pass harmlessly over his head.<br />
<br />
Haydn managed to complain enough and got his way. I let Wilfred hang on for dear life as the turret tried to swat him off, only because I didn't want to hear him complain about this for months and months afterwards. <i>I know he would</i>. But what everyone seemed to forget was that while he was riding the tank around like a mechanical bull, everyone else was still attacking it with all their most powerful weapons. He was nearly crushed by a typewriter at least twice, was blinded by a laser blast and actually fell off at least one other time. So I'm still happy about that at least.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUO32AXtyzmZ7zYuWjNxtaL2666Ciks_qLrxGVmO-xiF0qVNY9Vb9FiIN7BDExKeRPK83aRhGgo6vv7echmUEreu-drtqb3xac_7v7JYyUFOnjLiUMKEH9AEAIhWiSWhMLtrwC0ahdoEX0/s1600/taaank.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUO32AXtyzmZ7zYuWjNxtaL2666Ciks_qLrxGVmO-xiF0qVNY9Vb9FiIN7BDExKeRPK83aRhGgo6vv7echmUEreu-drtqb3xac_7v7JYyUFOnjLiUMKEH9AEAIhWiSWhMLtrwC0ahdoEX0/s1600/taaank.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Here's Nick's 'evidence' from the debate, showing the turret harmlessly passing over Wilfred's head with an ineffectual 'woosh'. <br />
<br />
Meanwhile, Nick tried to confuse the miners with an illusion spell; trying everything from images of hundreds of tanks, piles of raw meat and the miner's own mother to get them to surrender. Here's an artistic interpretation of the event:<br />
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<br />
Finally there's this:<br />
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Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-88327591599511691952015-01-30T17:44:00.003-08:002015-01-30T22:59:23.482-08:00Bristlefur Dig SiteHere's another map for my tabletop game. I <i>should</i> get around to explaining what that is but I'd say eighty percent of my readership already know about it or are already playing it.<br />
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<br />
Here a small mining camp ran by a family of Gnolls (bipedal, intelligent hyenas). Like so many others in Pitchblende Flats, they've been mining uranium, hoping to strike it rich before monsters get them. In the center is the large hole/crater they've gotten most of their haul from. A little north of that is a small shack made of assorted trash and a little south is an old rusted water tank. To the east a little is a broken down truck and a little west are the piles of discarded material they sifted through and determined wasn't nearly radioactive enough to sell in town.<br />
<br />
More on this later.<br />
<br />
Maybe.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-47862985454914211442015-01-17T16:31:00.002-08:002015-08-29T10:30:30.235-07:00Pitchblende FlatsHere's some maps for my tabletop game. Maybe I'll make a blog post about it, but most likely I won't.<br />
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Here's one of Pitchblende Flats, the huge mining settlement everyone's been wrecking havoc in. A good portion of it burnt down recently. You can see it marked, just a little north west of Trinity:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSknffD5j58V9kYPHl1vAubTnuSDSDpNDzXsyMxBqR7ct4rOvSP55Pr5QeOQ3dYHr52vBMGFkPbgGAmYfhA1NpARPpkbKSNXHitr2MJJ0LK64TlYFq3RW9vCA2X6PkiI8h_m41FW5v1Vj/s1600/pitchblende.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizSknffD5j58V9kYPHl1vAubTnuSDSDpNDzXsyMxBqR7ct4rOvSP55Pr5QeOQ3dYHr52vBMGFkPbgGAmYfhA1NpARPpkbKSNXHitr2MJJ0LK64TlYFq3RW9vCA2X6PkiI8h_m41FW5v1Vj/s1600/pitchblende.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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And here's one of the research hanger the players have been cooped up in ever since a freak storm blew away their last motorcycle, Tory 401:<br />
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And finally, here's an incomplete map of the whole world: Chmatra, Planet of Death. You'll notice there's enormous craters where habitable land should be:<br />
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Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-6898262108876399182014-11-07T14:37:00.002-08:002014-11-26T09:23:42.475-08:00Ia! Shuth-Meleth Fhtagn!As always, I'm writing back story details for Ramzca's civilization game, specifically the characters from my own civilization, the Empire of Transmyridil. Well here's a character profile I've been meaning to finish for a long while now. Like so many other things I've written lately, this has ballooned out of proportion and probably counts as a a full novelette at this point. So, because I have no self-control, enjoy the biography of a pink octopus monster that's been very near and dear to me lately.<br />
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...<br />
<br />
The Black Book of Ajez Saala-Abdul speaks darkly of what are variedly called the Old Ones or the Outsiders; godlike beings from outside space and time, the very manifestations of otherness, the alien and the incomprehensible. They do not adhere to physical laws as we understand them, having come from the realms beyond or some other primeval darkness before time. It said that to look upon such things is to gaze into the abyss itself. No one born of our material world could have their eyes opened to such otherness and walk away unscathed. The Black Book tells of those foolish or unfortunate enough to have laid eyes on the true form of an Old One, all of whom have unfailingly perished or have gone mad at the sight of such things. That is the danger of the Ancients; they are so vast, powerful and alien that we as mere mortals cannot perceive them without becoming aware of the true, monstrous nature of reality. No mind can comprehend the Old Ones, not even a glimpse of them.<br />
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The Black Book lists many blasphemous names in it's yellowed pages; Xorchlcotyl, Zoth-Morazoth: It Which Waits, Tlhordl, Capatatosh: The Rancid Mother. Some are so horrible that even the merest mention of them spells doom for those who speak their name. There is the Indescribable One, who's name cannot be printed without the page eroding away. There is the Unspeakable: That Which Blots Out The Stars. Among the worst is a force known simply as The Other, which is prophesied to plunge all being into unending elemental darkness.<br />
<br />
Then there are some that are altogether less horrible. In the back pages of the annotated third edition of the Black Book, in the appendix on chapter III Saala-Abdul makes mention of some minor or otherwise inconsequential Old Ones, many of whom were not named in the original Tablet of Black Utterances. Among them was Sthoth, Zoz and most importantly to us, Shuth-Meleth.<br />
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Shuth-Meleth was said to have entered our world with the alignment of the twin blue stars of Allistus and Obern. On that night, a red comet was observed streaking across the sky above the city of Yg and plunged far out to sea. The waters boiled and it is said that all the milk for several miles went sour and all the eggs of domesticated birds rotted. But beyond that, there were none of the deleterious effects commonly associated with the coming of an Old One. No more is said of Shuth-Meleth in the Black Book, but an account of what happened after it's arrival appeared in <i>The Complete Traveler's Guide to the Southlands</i> by Tholir Stonemason. In chapter VIII while elucidating on the issue of which beaches had the most attractive women, Stonemason retells the story of a curiously shaped ruby that washed to shore and was snatched away by a passing Kaam, a kind of squamous humanoid octopus.<br />
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Later, in a chapter devoted to which drinks the author thought were best served in coconut husks, Stonemason continues the story of the ruby. While on a journey to the desert city he encountered the ruby once more while spending the night in a tavern; only this time it appeared as a symbol on a tabard worn by a Vyllnr. The Vyllnr, named Bora Saanak-Rek, claimed to be a member of the Order of the Sleeping God. He went on to describe how his god had fallen out of the sky in the form of a glittering gem and had instructed it's high priest to build a temple in the jungle on the edge of a nearby river. After a night of drunken carousing that would take too long to describe here, Stonemason woke the next day, hung over and laying on the makeshift alter in the temple of the Sleeping God.<br />
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It is unclear if what happened next was a genuine religious experience or a hallucination brought about by poorly manufactured mead. But Stonemason claims to have received a vision of Shuth-Meleth:<br />
<i><br />I had an unbelievable headache the morning after. The bed I was laying on was lumpy and hard and I realized Melindra must have snuck off sometime during the past few hours. Everything looked fuzzy and dark. I started to worry I'd have a repeat of the Monday incident. But as my eyes adjusted I noticed a pair of braziers with unnaturally red fires casting an eerie glow on the small room. I was in a small, circular building, made of piled together stones, with what looked like moss used as cement.<br /><br />As my eyes were adjusting I could see the room getting darker. A small, slimy looking thing, smaller than a dwarf was standing at the other end of the room. My vision went black. The only thing I could see was a dim red haze. Then, all of a sudden, a shape appeared. At first I thought I was going blind because of bad grog, but something was floating in front of my eyes. Something pink.<br /><br />As I stared at it I started to see something like a tiny pink octopus. It stared back at me with three beady little eyes. It was ringed by an aura of shimmering green light and it's stubby little tentacles waved in a rhythmic, hypnotic motion.</i><br />
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-Tholir Stonemason, The Complete Traveller's Guide to the Southlands<br />
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What's notable about this experience is that the author did not go mad upon seeing an Old One in person, nor did his ears bleed upon hearing it's voice as he goes on to describe:<br />
<br />
<i>Suddenly, it spoke to me. It had a soft voice, faint and distant sounding. The glowing pink thing called itself Shuth-Meleth and greeted me and welcomed me to it's temple.</i><br />
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The author continues his interactions with the Sleeping God. For the better part of a day he sits and listens as it tells it's story; Shuth-Meleth appeared when the stars aligned, arriving in the form of a multifaceted gemstone which was the closest thing to it's true form as could appear in our world. When asked where it came from, Shuth-Meleth only vaguely hints at what it calls "a realm of primal darkness". When the stone fell to Myridil and crossed the ocean it reached out to find the mind of a worthy follower. When it finally made it's way to the northern shores of the Southlands what it found was Grrgl.<br />
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Stories from that area seem to collaborate with this claim. In the earlier chapter, Tholir mentions others present for the incident when a shiny stone or crystal washed to shore. When a crowd gathered around to inspect the glowing object a Kaam rose out of the water, snatched the gem and fled into the nearby jungle before anyone had a chance to stop it. Tholir went on to describe sightings of a "slimy blue creature with tentacles where it's face should have been" at a later point while traveling in the jungle but dismissed the sightings as alcoholic hallucinations.<br />
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What Stonemason didn't know was that Grrgl, the Kaam had taken the stone of Shuth-Meleth up river to a safe hiding place, becoming the first High Priest of the Cult of the Sleeping God. There, Shuth-Meleth started to speak to the Kaam telepathically, allowing it small glimpses into the realm from whence it came. At first, Grrgl responded with sheer horror and was left catatonic for nearly a week. But as time went on, the Kaam started to make cave paintings depicting the terrifying home of Shuth-Meleth and it's arrival into our world. It was at this time that the Cult's visual vocabulary started to develop. It's still possible to find images of rubies and red comets in the jungle, carved into trees or painted in caves. <br />
<br />
There has been at least one instance where a large mural depicting Shuth-Meleth was found by explorers. An account of an expedition into Spinebreaker cave described an enormous symbolic scene, rendered in caked mud and paint made from crushed tropical berries;<br />
<br />
<i>Day 32,</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>We found an impressive mural today near the subterranean river. While it looks like something left behind by prehistoric people, it couldn't possibly be older than several weeks as it clearly depicts King Rodriq in several scenes. We're trying to find clues of who made it since we've made camp here. I'm recording a miniature copy for my own study while Saala-Mustafa writes up a summary of what we've found. I'll copy it here:</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Painted on the wall is a well designed image of Dwarves and a large pink octopus by an unknown artist. The Dwarves are bowing before the octopus. The octopus is surrounded by the Dwarves. On the mural is an image of red meteors in bumbleberry paint. On the
mural is an image of a fishman. The fishman is holding up a red gem. The artwork relates to the worship of an unnamed icon in a fortress and the appointment of the fishman to the position of priest of some local cult."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The octopus (or squid) is an interesting feature. It is large and bright pink, with tentacles (eight in total) reaching all over the wall. What's notable is that it seems to be crushing a tower in one arm and flicking a figure off a horse in another. The crown on the figure's head is unmistakably "Rodriqesque". The deity, or sea monster or whatever it is has three eyes, two closed and one open and staring at the viewer. It has a bright red pupil.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Note: Yalric's gangrene is getting worse - consider amputation.</i><br />
<br />
As Tholir recovered from his hangover the eponymous pink octopus continued it's story; after Grrgl's traumatic visions the pair went back to the port city to preach and hopefully gather more followers. They were met with open hostility by the locals who took the Kaam for an insane cultist. Despite insistence that Shuth-Meleth wouldn't be accepting blood sacrifices the pair were forced to leave with only a single Vyllnr to show for their efforts.<br />
<br />
This ended up working to their advantage in a small way however, as the Vyllnr was able to bring them back to it's village in the jungle where reception to the Cult was much more favorable. In the weeks following their arrival, Shuth-Meleth made the first real show of it's godly powers. First, it healed the blindness of a young Vyllnr in the village. Then, when a family fell ill because of tropical disease, the Sleeping God whispered into the mind of the local alchemist, telling him what ingredients to gather to make a potion to cure them. As time went by and the Kaam and it's magic gemstone made themselves generally helpful, favor in the Sleeping God grew. After nearly a month in the jungle, the tribe decided to completely devote themselves to Shuth-Meleth. The chieftainess saw it's true form in a vision and declared it the tribe's only god and the only one who would lead them to salvation.<br />
<br />
It was this same village that Tholir had drunkenly stumbled into the night before. As the Sleeping God ended it's story the chieftainess came inside to greet the Dwarf. After, she brought him outside to show him the village. Banners carrying the symbol of the red ruby were flying from every mud hut. All around him, Vyllnir were packing up supplies for a long journey into the heart of the jungle. As he stood there, rubbing his tired eyes, the chieftainess announced the tribe's intentions to travel up the river and find the promised land of her visions.<br />
<br />
She spoke of a tall mountain peering above the jungle, with a volcano smouldering in the distance. A short one-eyed king stood on the mountain, surveying the untamed wilderness. She told the tribe that this place was to be their new home and in order to find it, they must seek out the man from her visions. Immediately, Tholir suspected she was talking about Agekugog, or Beebane, and the king she spoke of was actually Emperor Urist Thunderbeard. Having no idea what either of those things were, the chieftainess agreed to let Stonemason come with them, as he was headed in that direction anyway.<br />
<br />
The tribe set off the next day, swimming upstream as they carried their supplies in waterproof bags. Stonemason was pulled close behind in a small boat. While his original intention for going to the Empire was to sample their local beer and mead he started to hear the whispers of Shuth-Meleth in his mind. As the days dragged on, he started to see strange things in his dreams. Stonemason described seeing "impossibly tall towers" and "writhing tentacles" in a veil of absolute darkness. Throughout the next several chapters he would complain about a pinpoint of red light that always seemed to be in the corner of his vision.<br />
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As the Sleeping God's influence in his mind grew, disaster struck. Bandits raided the Vyllnr camp one night as they were resting on the riverbank and stole several bags of supplies, including the gemstone itself. Several members of the tribe died fighting off the bandits. As panic started to grip the survivors Grrgl and Tholir resolved to go searching for the stone themselves, convincing many of the Vyllnr to do the same. <br />
<br />
They stumbled through the thick underbrush throughout the night, guided only by the sense of unearthly power drawing them to the stone. Eventually they found the camp as the bandits were sifting through their spoils. The bandit leader was busy arguing with an underling; it was clear to the cultists that they were fighting over ownership of the stone.<br />
<br />
Tholnir used this opportunity to silently kill the bandit on watch, allowing Grrgl to usher the Vyllnr into the camp. All at once, they sprung from ambush and attacked. While the bandits were more well armed, the cultists had the element of surprise and managed to kill several of them before anything could be done to stop them. One of the bandits was a sorcerer however and was quickly whittling down their numbers as he roasted the angry cultists with lightning.<br />
<br />
Being so short, Grrgl was able to avoid most of the tall bandits' swings. He leapt on top of a table, tossing a candle into a tent which quickly burst into flame. Almost in imitation of that early day on the beach, no one was able to get a grip on him as he rampaged around the camp, searching for the stone. Eventually, he found the leader and threw himself onto his face. Grrgl tried to pull his eyes out with his suction cups as they struggled for the stone. In the heat of the moment the bandit leader pulled out a knife and plunged it deep into the scaly neck of the Kaam.<br />
<br />
Overcome by the death of his first, most loyal follower, Shuth-Meleth took revenge against the bandits. Mustering all his godly power, he reached out to the minds of each one, filling them with horrifying visions of the "primal darkness" from whence he came. They all dropped their weapons at once and blanched at the sight of such horrors. As Tholir reached for the stone, the bandits fell to the ground and started gibbering madly. Coming in contact with such alien chaos was too much for them. The brains of the highwaymen started to cook from the inside out, oozing out of their ears as they died.<br />
<br />
Grrgl laid dead and the Vyllnr scattered all over the jungle, irrevocably lost due to their awful sense of direction. All that remained was Tholir. He buried Grrgl by the riverbank, making a makeshift headstone with the symbol of the red comet and continued on his way.<br />
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For nearly a week he trekked through the jungle. All the while, Shuth-Meleth spoke to him in his mind. The two beings, the lowly dwarf and the Old One consoled each other over the death of the cult. Shuth-Meleth assured him that, while scattered, he could still hear the thoughts of the Vyllnr and was reaching out to them. And while he could still hear the prayers of his followers there was no hope of gathering them back to the river because, again, they had an awful sense of direction. Instead, he told Tholir to "follow the smoke". Tholir did as he was commanded, thinking he was making his way to the lip of the volcano.<br />
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Instead what he found were the smouldering ashes of siege equipment and the half-demolished walls of Beebane. Urist was dead. The Empire was still reeling with their war with the neighboring Isolationists. Sankis had been declared interim Empress as she tried to rebuild the fortress. Shuth-Meleth had arrived in the promised land with no followers and no one willing to listen to his message.<br />
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Nonetheless, he and Tholir took up residence in the fortress. They were quietly ignored as the Imperials took the remaining Isolationists to trial for war crimes. Tajjini Besaa-Mora, former Arch Minister of Information, was executed for high treason. For the next several months Empress Sankis was kept busy retaking the lost territories of Bistleholm and Thunderbeard's Hallow. The entire Empire was embroiled in the ongoing campaign of executions as well as preparing for the coming Goblin War. The only official who seemed to notice the strange crystal's arrival was Caten Ironfist. As Arch Minister of Magic, she was concerned largely in the manufacture of glowing lightstones and wasn't interested in the politics of running an empire.<br />
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Caten wrote a yearly address concerning the state of magic in the Empire. While it largely consisted of records regarding the movements of enchanted items from one office to another, during the year of the Goblin War she made sure to point out that a dark god had taken up residence in Beebane and was quietly gathering followers while the government was otherwise preoccupied:<br />
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<i>Shuth-Meleth is some manner of squid-deity worshiped by the spiderfolk living in Beebane. As far as I can tell it practices astral magic, specializing in thaumaturgy with a passive dormant ability to make followers more perceptive of potential danger and solutions to problems. A dormant god from the deep sea, it's conjured form is an oddly shaped ruby.</i><br />
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-Caten Ironfist, Arch Minister of Magic<br />
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While neutral in tone, Caten's report contained just enough alarmist language to cast serious doubt on Shuth-Meleth's intentions and cause a panic. The Empire had already had dealings with dark gods in the past. Urist's near-transformation into an elf was still fresh in the minds of the citizens and many feared a repeat of those events.<br />
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The Sleeping God had already gathered followers among the Spiderfolk population when he came under serious scrutiny from the Arch Ministry of Magic. He was asked to appear before the Empress as part of a formal inquiry. Holding nothing back, he told the Imperials the plain truth; he was an immensely powerful being from beyond space and time. Coming from a realm of pure terror and chaos, Shuth-Meleth was peeking through a hole in the fabric of reality and sought mortal worshipers in Beebane. As Shuth-Meleth continued it's tale of cosmic horror the Imperial council squirmed in their seats. A sense of dread hung over the whole room as everyone stared into the uneven contours of the crystal. Meanwhile, Empress Sankis slouched in her throne. Her son Biin listened to the story with rapt attention, at once terrified and fascinated by the alien monstrosity.<br />
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Despite objections from Caten, the Empress decided that the newly formed Cult of the Awakened God had every right to live in Beebane. Tholir Stonemason and Shuth-Meleth were granted full Imperial citizenship.<br />
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Today, Shuth-Meleth's crystal resides in the Temple of the Awakened God in Beebane, attended to by the Spider People who call the fortress home. The temple mirrors the one built in the jungle. A small, dignified place of quiet prayer and study; it is a circular room with a low arching ceiling. On all sides are alcoves leading to small libraries and study rooms. The stone rests on a copper dais in the center of the room and the smokeless red fires burn in their brazers, never needing fuel.<br />
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In the foyer leading to the temple is a small stone statue of Grrgl, former high priest and first saint of the cult.<br />
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What's interesting about this particular god is that, in spite of being an alien monstrosity from outside space and time, Shuth-Meleth is relatively benign. While it could be blamed for the deaths of it's Vllnir followers, the Sleeping God has never killed something except in self-defense or the defense of it's followers.<br />
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The tenants of the Cult of the Awakened God are relatively simple. It forbids murder, theft and other crimes that are frowned upon in the Empire. What's unusual isn't it's safe, pedestrian commandments, but that such safe, pedestrian commandments are coming from an <i>Old One</i>, something that by all rights should be driving it's mortal followers mad or imparting knowledge man was not meant to know. It has been argued that Shuth-Meleth is not an eldritch abomination at all like it's followers have been lead to believe. But instead, it is in fact a much weaker being masquerading as a powerful Old One to impress the mortal population. Others suggest that Shuth-Meleth should represent a paradigm shift in how we view the nature of the Old Ones. Some scholars take the Sleeping God as evidence that mortals can in fact be bestowed with cosmic insight and keep their sanity intact.<br />
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Whatever the case maybe, Shuth-Meleth maintains that it itself is a vastly powerful cosmic being from outside space and time and that it's meager influence in the physical world is due to a combination of the lack of belief from it's mortal followers and the stars not "being right enough". Only a small portion of it's power can escape through the pinprick hole in reality that Shuth-Meleth is forcing itself through.<br />
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Shuth-Meleth's sacred number is 8. Missionaries of it's cult are expected to wear a black tabard with a red border, with the symbol of the ruby acting as their badge of office. It's followers value knowledge and discovery, believing Shuth came to Myridil to give them the gift of enlightenment. What could perhaps be considered the central belief of this new religion is that, with the devotion of enough followers, Shuth-Meleth will be able to break the bonds of it's stone and physically enter our universe. While it's followers in Beebane are enthusiastic about this so-called <i>Great Arrival</i>, scholars of the Old Ones are not so happy to hear that an eldritch abomination is planning to break into their universe. Shuth-Meleth itself has commented on the situation:<br />
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<i>While I would not oppose passing through the Gate into your world I have no plans for making this come to pass myself. And I certainly have no plans to make my presence known here with a calamitous End Time, great devouring or any event that would plunge the world into darkness, elemental or otherwise. If an opportunity for me pass through the gossamer-thin barrier between worlds ever did present itself I certainly would not take it if it involved the blood sacrifice of a living being, virginal or otherwise. So please, no virgin sacrifices. I will not accept them.</i><br />
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-Shuth-Meleth, An Open Letter to the Empire<br />
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When asked why hearing it's voice didn't drive mortals to madness or why gazing at it's true form in visions did not instantly kill it's high priests, the god has this to say:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>It is a common conceit among your kind that anything that comes from beyond the Veil must be all-knowing or all-powerful. While I admit that I exist beyond your conceptions of time and space and in fact transcend it, I am not the omnipotent alien being you make me out to be. I still appreciate that you worship me as a god, but I am not the sort of god to melt your minds or cast your souls adrift in the limitless expanses of chaos. For this reason, you have nothing to fear.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>And to answer that young man's question from earlier; yes, if you worship me I absolutely do lay claim to your soul.</i><br />
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Shuth-Meleth has claimed that it is perfectly happy existing alongside the rest of the Imperial pantheon, making sure to point out that it wasn't looking to take followers away from the Everfire. So for better or for worse, Shuth-Meleth's new temple resides in the lowest layer of Beebane, attended to by High Priest Chkl'thak, a Spiderperson who emigrated to the Empire that same year. While most of it's followers have been Spiderfolk, Shuth-Meleth has a small following among the Llynir population in Beebane and even one or two Dwarves. Worship of the Awakened God isn't especially popular among Humans or Gnolls, but so far no tensions have formed between the various belief systems of the Empire. Our operatives have asked around Beebane, Thunderbeard's Hallow, Bistleholm and throughout the Empire; the reaction seems to be the same. Most citizens are comfortable having the new temple in their capital city. While those who aren't are merely distrustful.<br />
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The cult has found Beebane very accommodating to their needs and have been able to assimilate into the local culture rather well. They recently gathered enough funding to have a holy book printed using the press in Beebane. <i>The Eightfold Path</i> is a small one-hundred twenty-eight page volume that easily fits in a coat pocket and mainly concerns itself with the early history of the cult and the philosophy of Shuth-Meleth, as well as prayers, blessings and tacit warnings against dealing with other Old Ones.<br />
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When asked how he feels about Shuth-Meleth residing in his fortress, young Emperor Biin Thunderbeard had this to say:<br />
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<i>I had tha chance ta speak to the octopus-deity when 'is followers first signed tha deed ta tha land. To tell ye the truth I was a little wary at first, but after speakin' to it I feel like 'e'll make a nice addition ta Imperial culture. Besides, the Spiderfolk seem ta like him an' anything ta make them feel at 'ome is good. After all, that's what me father founded this country on: a people unified by their diversity, not divided by it.</i><br />
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-Emperor Biin Thunderbeard<br />
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Due to it's benign policies and positive reception in Transmyridil, our organization have decided to reclassify Shuth-Meleth to a level 6 cosmic entity with ROOK type psychosomatic influence. There is no reason to assume the great Happening will occur because of it's actions, nor will there be any danger of a Helvetica Scenario if it's allowed to expand it's influence. The recommended course of action at this time is continued observation but it is in our professional opinion that it is now safe to redirect vital equipment to other listening posts. No tunneling entanglement activity has been reported and all stellar charts are safely out of alignment. Finally, to address [...] concerns, there is no evidence at this time to suggest Shuth-Meleth is a guise of Xyphochotl.<br />
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Next Report:<br />
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Udil Bronzebolt: Interdimensional Terrorist or Elaborate Hoax?Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-82095162342104468222014-10-01T13:29:00.002-07:002014-10-01T13:29:59.271-07:00PlutoThe S.L.A.M. saga isn't over yet. Lo and behold there's a documentary on YouTube all about the history of Project Pluto from the early design phase to the construction and testing of the nuclear ramjets.<br />
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Once again, I have no idea how long these videos will stay here. So for the time being enjoy this informative documentary on the most hideous weapon ever devised. Plus, it has commentary from some of the scientists who actually worked on the project.<br />
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And if that somehow still isn't enough S.L.A.M. for you there's a wonderful short story by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Stross">Charles Stross</a> called <i>A Colder War</i> involving our favorite missile. I don't want to spoil it so I'll just say it involves something called XK-Pluto, an alternate timeline and a poorly timed joke made by Ronald Reagan. Trust me, it's good.<br />
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<a href="http://www.infinityplus.co.uk/stories/colderwar.htm">You can read it here.</a>Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-85469139486369415082014-09-25T21:36:00.000-07:002014-09-25T21:36:26.488-07:00BerserkerImagine the worst idea in the world.<br />
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I don't mean a merely <i>bad</i> idea, like trying to rob a bank or investing in a viatical settlement. Those are bad ideas, but they're not <i>world-ending</i>. When I say "the worst idea" I mean something well and truly <i>diabolical</i>. The worst idea is something that is not only dangerous and ill-conceived but can threaten to kill on a scale as of yet unheard of.<br />
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But the worst idea doesn't <i>necessarily</i> have to be ill-conceived or poorly thought-out. In fact, it could be the product of <i>sheer genius</i>. The finest minds of a generation could come together and pool their knowledge to create the single worst object the world has ever seen. Because remember, this isn't just a <i>bad</i> idea; it's the worst creation our species has to offer. It's going to take billions of dollars and millions of man hours to bring this monstrosity to life.<br />
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The Cold War was a hotbed of terrifying new doomsday devices, some of the worst ideas we've ever had. On either side of the Iron Curtain, nestled away in their secret research bases, the most brilliant minds of the 20th century were at work building new and exciting ways to end all life on Earth. The USSR had the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dead_Hand_%28nuclear_war%29">Dead Hand</a>, an autonomous defense system that would deploy their entire nuclear stockpile if the Soviet leadership was otherwise occupied or dead. They also built the infamous <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsar_Bomba">Tsar Bomba</a>, the largest thermonuclear device ever detonated. If a Tsar were dropped on Washington D.C. it would destroy every building within a 3.5 kilometer radius from the fireball alone. The resulting shock wave would topple every structure for hundreds of miles as the sheer heat incinerates the entire landscape. <i>And then</i>, the Tsar would kick up a cloud of fallout large enough to render much of the east coast uninhabitable for the next hundred years. In all, a single Tsar Bomba, if dropped on the right population center, would accumulate close to seven <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Megadeath">megadeaths</a> worth of damage. (Doubly so if dropped on <a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/1c/Tsar_Bomba_Paris.png">Paris</a>.)<br />
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Meanwhile the Americans were busy building their own bigger and better bombs, happily vaporizing the Bikini Atoll in their quest for the perfect thermonuclear device. They also developed such strange novelties as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Davy_Crockett_missile">M28 "Davy Crockett"</a> nuclear artillery, a kind of recoilless rifle designed to fire a small nuclear bomb over a distance of just over four kilometers, making it the smallest nuclear weapon ever devised.<br />
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They also worked on plans for a variety of <i>enhanced radiation weapons</i>, bombs designed to have a smaller explosive yield while spreading much more radiation than a "conventional" thermonuclear weapon. Included in this were plans for <i>neutron bombs</i>, which were intentionally designed with thin radiation cases in order to allow neutrons to escape and irradiate the blast site. There were also <i>salted bombs</i>, which came packed with easily irradiated material such as cobalt or gold, which would be spread in the form of deadly, radioactive dust when the device was detonated.<br />
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Either of these proposals had the capability to destroy all life on Earth if enough of them were detonated.<br />
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And these doomsday devices are certainly impressive. Their potential for destruction is harrowing. But can we really say they're the <i>worst</i> product of Cold War engineering? Because as horrible as these weapons were they lacked the certain pointless cruelty needed to bridge the gap between "terrifying" and "nemesis of all life and creation". <br />
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No. There's something even more sadistic than the Dead Hand or cobalt bombs. There is an area-denial weapon more pointlessly cruel and over-engineered than any of those...<br />
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There is the SLAM: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Supersonic_Low_Altitude_Missile">Supersonic Low Altitude Missile</a>; officially the <i>worst</i> thing mankind has ever set out to build.<br />
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The SLAM was developed in the early 1960's as part of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Project_Pluto">Project Pluto</a>, a government program to develop nuclear powered ramjet engines for cruise missiles. At the start of Project Pluto the Air Force was relying on long-range bombers like the B-52 to deliver nuclear munitions. ICBMs were still an emerging technology and military analysts were concerned that the missiles wouldn't be ready in time. So the Air Force started work to bridge the gab between bombers and missiles, hoping to create a cruise missile that could fly under enemy radar and deliver a nuclear payload with virtual impunity. Thus, the SLAM was born.<br />
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The SLAM's reactor was developed as a joint venture between the Air Force and Atomic Energy Commission. Together they approached the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory to design Pluto's reactor. The lab gladly accepted the offer since before then most nuclear engineering contracts where handed over to their rival, Los Alamos. What the Air Force wanted was a compact, lightweight reactor that they could put in an aircraft. This was a tall order to fill since every reactor built up to that point had been encased under several feet of concrete. Never mind powered flight, precious few reactors had been built to even be <i>portable</i>. What Project Pluto needed was several leaps and bounds in metallurgy, a material that could withstand the near 2330 °F expected to be pulsing through the reactor. The sort of metal used in jets and missiles before then could only be expected to liquify in the presence of such extreme operating conditions.<br />
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Not even the exotic compounds used in the X-15 hypersonic jet were expected to be able to withstand the the stresses the SLAM was expected to endure. This missile would have to pass through wind and rain, enduring salty ocean air, not to mention the extreme heat and radiation produced by the reactor. Before long it was decided to use ceramic to construct the fuel elements, much like how ceramic would be used in the construction of the space shuttle years later. So, Livermore ended up approaching the Coors Porcelain Company (yes, that <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CoorsTek">Coors</a>) to construct the hundreds of pencil-shaped fuel elements for the reactor. As time went by it started to dawn on the scientists just how durable this missile would be, leading to project director Ted Merkle giving it the nickname "<a href="http://www.merkle.com/pluto/pluto.html">The Flying Crowbar</a>".<br />
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And keep in mind this was all uncharted territory. While simple in theory, ramjets are notoriously difficult to test in the air. This difficultly is surely compounded when the ramjet in question is spewing radiation every which way. And yet, progress was slowly being made. Chance-Vought was commissioned to design the airframe and the shape of SLAM, which had come to encompass all of Project Pluto, was slowly coming together. Soon enough, there was a complete picture of what SLAM would look like and what it would be capable of.<br />
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Besides the rudders, the Pluto would have virtually no moving parts. It's fuel elements were arranged like a honeycomb and kept subcritical until just before take off. After that, the only thing protecting it's electronics and nuclear payload was a thick shadow shield. The ground crew were basically on their own.<br />
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Once take off was authorized the SLAM would be launched from a ramp using a cluster of rocket boosters. These would be necessary to get it up to the speed needed to force air into the ramjet. After take off the missile would navigate using an early <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TERCOM">TERCOM</a> computer, using radar and radioed commands to map out it's surroundings.<br />
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Once the rocket boosters broke away the missile would be left flying under it's own power; drawing air into it's inlet which was then heated by the reactor, creating thrust. The missile would continue to fly at high altitude approaching Mach 4.2 before making a rapid descent as it approached Soviet airspace. From then on, the SLAM would level out and fly at extremely low altitudes, just barely above tree top heights, weaving around enemy radar as it closed in on it's target.<br />
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The missile came equipped with an enormous payload of up to <i>sixteen</i> thermonuclear warheads, each one capable of incinerating a city and all it's people. The SLAM would come careening across the landscape, dropping it's bombs on all manner of military bases, munitions stores, hospitals, anything that could aid the enemy in the coming post-apocalypse. It would then tear off into the sunset to vaporize the rest of the country. Relying on it's TERCOM navigation system, the missile would be able to snake it's way up the coast dropping bombs on a multitude of preprogrammed targets and making course corrections as need be.<br />
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And if Pluto's nuclear stockpile somehow wasn't enough to destroy the offending hemisphere, don't worry. Because researchers working on Project Pluto quickly realized that having the missile flying a crisscrossing pattern over the enemy country was more than enough to leave it an irradiated wasteland. Remember, the Pluto's nearly 600 megawatt reactor was almost entirely unshielded, meaning it would leave a plume of deadly radiation in it's wake wherever it went. Merely having a SLAM fly overhead would be enough to give a lethal dose of radiation to any would-be communist sympathizer. The neutron radiation would be enough to poison the land, indiscriminately killing all plant and animal life and leaving a trail of destruction wherever it went. Or if you were anxious to get this thing out of the air as soon as possible you could deliberately crash it, making a nice radioactive crater out of whatever unfortunate satellite nation it plunges into.<br />
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And if even <i>that</i> somehow wasn't enough, the SLAM could kill with <i>noise alone</i>. Remember, the missile was proposed to be around fifty-two feet long and weighing twenty-five tons; about the same size and weight as a steam locomotive. This very large missile would fly at Mach 3, just slightly higher than most rooftops. The shock wave left by it's passing would be strong enough to wreck all sorts of havoc, smashing windows, bursting eardrums, outright <i>demolish buildings</i>. Imagine the sound of a typical passenger jet taking off. Now imagine that same sound, magnified ten times, being made by a passing missile that's spewing gamma rays in every direction.<br />
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If the SLAM didn't vaporize you it would cook you like a T.V. dinner. And if it didn't cook you it left you slowly dying of radiation poisoning. And if it somehow didn't do <i>that</i> it would shred you to pieces as it came screaming over the countryside. Now you see why this would have been our worst weapon ever devised? The SLAM wasn't just cruel, it was <i>monstrous</i>. The Supersonic Low Altitude Missile would have been a <i>proper</i> doomsday device.<br />
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Sadly, it was never meant to be. As the researchers quickly found out, it would have been impossible to do a proper flight test of the Pluto, not unless they wanted to inadvertently irradiate Las Vegas or Los Angeles. There were some daffy proposals to tie a long steel tether to the missile as it flew circles around the Nevada Test Site or have it fly into the Pacific Ocean and intentionally crash it far from shore. Neither plan was put into action of course.<br />
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In the end, the Pentagon scrapped Project Pluto; deeming the missile too dangerous, <i>too provocative</i> to even test. Plus, they were afraid of the Soviets catching wind of their plans and developing their own counterpart to the SLAM, which, if it worked, would be impossible to defend against. But as it turns out there was no race to close the nuclear cruise missile gap and Pluto was quietly forgotten by the public.<br />
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However, the scientists at the Lawrence Radiation Lab were able to successfully test both the Tory II-A and II-C reactors, proving the feasibility of the nuclear ramjet. The project also lead to the development of new heat resistant materials. Pluto saw some interesting advances in metallurgy such as the development of ceramic fuel elements based on beryllium oxide and enriched uranium oxide, both highly carcinogenic of course. But eventually, ICBMs caught up with the SLAM, presenting a much cheaper and even more unstoppable delivery system. To the Air Force, the answer was obvious and Project Pluto was discontinued.<br />
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Still, one can only imagine a future where the SLAM was eventually tested in the air, a future were people live in fear of rampaging, out-of-control missiles with nowhere left to bomb. It would be a future of endless radioactive deserts, a glowing ball of dust where grass never grows. The land and sea would be poisoned by radiation and Plutos would streak across the sky like glittering needles, threading streams of nuclear fire wherever they went. The whole world would become a tapestry of fire as the missiles reached across the globe. And the last survivor would be there; their body rotting away, ravaged by high energy particles. And with their last dying breath they would claw their way up a pile of rubble and with scorched, sunken eyes they would stare off into the horizon and shake their sallow fist at the machine soaring in the distance. They would slump over and fall silent as she flies off into the sunset.<br /><br />
<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atoms_for_Peace">Atoms for Peace</a> indeed.<br />
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Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-76439542736685454632014-09-13T01:01:00.003-07:002015-04-18T21:21:58.092-07:00Mandelbrot's Lament<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Spacelander<br />
<br />
By Tyler Baray <br />
<br />
"How does this keep happening to me?" Udil thought to himself.<br />
<br />
He gave up screaming several minutes ago when it became clear he wasn't going to stop falling anytime soon. At least it felt like falling. Udil couldn't tell what direction he was going in anymore. A brightly colored field of swirling abstract shapes was rapidly approaching, like the surface of some alien world. He held his arms in front of his face in a vain attempt to protect himself, but the "ground" never came any closer. The swirling, twisting shapes flew on by but no solid surface ever came to greet him. It was as if Udil was falling into the increasingly small, intricate details of an immense painting.<br />
<br />
On and on he "fell". Air rushed past his face. His legs flapped around like strips of uncooked bacon. His beard flailed wildly in the wind for hours on end. As time went by and he fell further into the vortices he started to recognize some of the shapes racing by: spirals, twists, something like a giant black clover or heart, as if they were repeating the further in he went. The details were closing in, swirling around him as they emerged from the luminous haze below. The surface became a tunnel as the twisting clusters of light morphed into bands of solid color. He fell further, right into the pupils of dozens of spiraling eye-like shapes, bands of green, purple and pink radiating outward like a star. It became a tunnel of light as he felt himself picking up speed. The tunnel became a chaotic blur as he flew faster and faster. He shielded his eyes from the intense glare, catching a glimpse of the same heart-shape from earlier. He hurtled past it, falling into the infinitesimal gulfs and ridges along it's edge. Suddenly, he was back at the top again.<br />
<br />
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<br />
At least he thought he was. Wherever he was, it looked so much like the rest of the landscape he couldn't tell whether he was still falling in or not. He tried to look around but the rushing air stung his eyes. Further and further he went, past the repeating shapes for what felt like a whole day. By the third or fourth time he fell through the "heart" he was completely convinced that there was no true bottom. He would continue to fall through the increasingly small details of this figure. Forever.<br />
<br />
Udil yawned and rolled onto his back. Looking "up", all he could see was an indistinct purple haze, like a night sky without any stars. He closed his eyes and felt the air rushing by. If he didn't stop falling any time soon he would probably end up dying of dehydration. He tried to ignore this and started to doze off as he continued to drop like a meteor into infinity.<br />
<br />
For how long he slept, he couldn't venture to guess. But he never seemed to make it to the bottom. To his surprise, sleeping in free fall was mercifully pleasant. With no metal springs or lumpy pillow to keep him awake, he simply went limp and tumbled down to the unseen gravity well below. Later in life, he would remember that occasion as the best night's rest he probably ever had. <br />
<br />
"I say Xonxt, look what got caught in our little <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mandelbrot_set">Mandelbrot</a> arrangement!" A voice said.<br />
<br />
Udil woke with a start and flailed around to find the source of the voice.<br />
<br />
"Oh my, you're right Zorg!"<br />
<br />
"Look at how ugly it is! It only has three dimensions Xonxt!"<br />
<br />
"Very gauche indeed Zorg!"<br />
<br />
The voices seemed to come from all around him, even emanating from inside his body.<br />
<br />
"He doesn't look too happy in there at all, does he Xonxt?"<br />
<br />
"No Zorg I don't think he does!"<br />
<br />
"Perhaps he'd like our help getting out?"<br />
<br />
"Oh that is a wonderful idea indeed Zorg!"<br />
<br />
Suddenly Udil could feel something pulling on his entire body. There was a flash of light as he was sent careening through space. All the while he was assaulted by a series of incomprehensible images and sounds. With a sickening lurch, he froze in midair. Floating in front of him were a pair of what looked like giant meatballs. These grew and shrank, sometimes splitting to form more of the alien shapes. The objects changed size, multiplied and divided as if by some impossible feat of magic.<br />
<br />
"What are ye!?" Udil finally managed to bellow out.<br />
<br />
"We are friends from the fourth dimension!" They said in unison. "And you seem to have fallen into our two-dimensional representation of a Mandelbrot set! Somehow!"<br />
<br />
Udil struggled to get away. All the while the higher-dimensional beings floated around him and laughed.<br />
<br />
"How did such a three-dimensional creature find their way here Zorg?"<br />
<br />
"I don't have the faintest idea Xonxt!"<br />
<br />
A wave of pain suddenly shot through Udil's body. It felt like a sudden, intense cramping or like something was trying to pull his insides out. He doubled over and clutched at his stomach, wimpering.<br />
<br />
"Zorg, you really mustn't prod them on their insides like that! They don't enjoy it."<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry Xonxt, I sometimes forget how these lower-dimensionals work!"<br />
<br />
Udil managed to squeak some kind of response.<br />
<br />
"I say Zorg...does this one look at all familiar to you?"<br />
<br />
"Hmm, yes. Now that you mention it..."<br />
<br />
A cosmic meatball floated towards his face and gently started to orbit around his head. Several others appeared in the air around his face. Gingerly, they pressed down on his head and slowly moved it this way and that. Udil quivered as he said a silent prayer to the Everfire. He clamped his eyes shut, trying to block out the mental image of his head being torn from his shoulders.<br />
<br />
"Look at those little 3-D legs...and those livers inside it. If I know my extra-planar taxonomy, and I certainly do, I'd say this was a Dwarf Zorg!"<br />
<br />
"I believe you are right Xonxt!"<br />
<br />
"Don't eat me!" Udil shouted. The creatures laughed uproariously.<br />
<br />
"Why would we ever want to eat such a small creature Xonxt?"<br />
<br />
"It would pass right through us Zorg! Besides, he's not even made of the same matter as we! We are lucky none of us <i>annihilate</i> on contact!"<br />
<br />
"We are indeed!"<br />
<br />
"Where am I? What is this place!?" Udil said.<br />
<br />
"Of course! His tiny eyes cannot even <i>fathom</i> his surroundings!"<br />
<br />
"You are in Hyperbolia traveler! The land of <i>four dimensions</i>!"<br />
<br />
"But he still looks familiar doesn't he Xonxt? And not just because he is a Dwarf!"<br />
<br />
"You are right! There is something different about this Dwarf, <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/OurDwarvesAreAllTheSame">something that can rarely be said about their kind</a>!" They both laughed. Another meatball materialized and yanked on Udil's beard.<br />
<br />
"Look at his rosy beard! And this little collection of crystals!"<br />
<br />
"And look here! See this symbol on his outer layer?"<br />
<br />
The two creatures prodded him as they murmured amongst each other. All at once, they gasped and loosened their grips on him.<br />
<br />
"<i>You don't think</i>-"<br />
<br />
"I do <i>indeed</i> Zorg!"<br />
<br />
Suddenly, a watery, gelatinous bag appeared in the air in front of Udil's face. A large black spot, like a pupil slid into view from no direction in particular.<br />
<br />
"Sir, are you Udil Bronzebolt? Champion of the Everfire, warrior of Feresia?"<br />
<br />
Udil stammered. "...Who's asking?"<br />
<br />
"It is indeed! A bonafide celebrity in our midst!"<br />
<br />
"Exciting indeed Xonxt!"<br />
<br />
The creatures started prodding him again. From all around came invisible claws or tentacles or something, pulling his hair or forcing his limbs around like a rag doll. To his horror, he felt something prying at the contents of his stomach.<br />
<br />
"Look at all these souvenirs! Trinkets he's kept from his travels no doubt!"<br />
<br />
"And now he's come to steal from our little corner of the multiverse! Exhilarating!"<br />
<br />
Suddenly, half of Udil's canteen appeared in the air, with half the water sloshing around inside. It started to fade away, like slices of the canteen were being shaved away until it disappeared again. The entire canteen reappeared then disappeared again. The contents of his backpack were floating in the air around him. As he struggled against the forces keeping him in place he caught a glimpse of Scully floating through the air. The human skull he carried with him was melting away, leaving it's empty interior exposed for him to see.<br />
<br />
"<i>What is going on!?</i>" She shouted. "What am I looking a-" <br />
<br />
"Bring 'er back!"<br />
<br />
"Back? From where? She never left!"<br />
<br />
"Not at all! She is right here before your nose! Just <i>ever so</i> slightly into the fourth dimension!"<br />
<br />
Scully suddenly reappeared spewing expletives. Just as quickly as she materialized, she vanished again.<br />
<br />
"And back she goes! She's right there, but so far out of reach!"<br />
<br />
"Zorg, it is impolite to tease the lower-dimensionals!" They both laughed.<br />
<br />
"Udil, is it true you were reborn to a human woman once?"<br />
<br />
"And that you were summoned by the Cult of Shuth-Meleth on accident?"<br />
<br />
"Uh, well..." He stammered.<br />
<br />
"And is it true that you testified before the Xa Hegemony on behalf of the Kretak Supreme?"<br />
<br />
"The <i>what</i> now?"<br />
<br />
"Surely you remember the Supreme! It is the most prestigious of three-dimensional lifeforms! It was greatly honored by your testimony!"<br />
<br />
"Lads...I...I've never 'eard of a <i>Kretak</i>."<br />
<br />
They both gasped. "Esteemed Bronzebolt, surely you don't mean to tell us that in addition to living in only three dimensions of space, you still inhabit only <i>one</i> dimension of time?"<br />
<br />
"What in Armok's name is a dimens-"<br />
<br />
"The poor creature! I believe he only experiences time <i>linearly</i> Xonxt!"<br />
<br />
"I'm afraid you're right Zorg!"<br />
<br />
"<i>What are ye talkin' aboot!?</i>"<br />
<br />
"Forgive us esteemed Dwarf. But I'm afraid we have just alluded to events that, for you, have not transpired yet!"<br />
<br />
"It is good he isn't in his own timeline right now Zorg!"<br />
<br />
"A frightening paradox indeed Xonxt! But I shudder to think...living in a time<i>line</i>? I find even a time<i>plane</i> cramped at times!"<br />
<br />
"You should move around those times then!" They both laughed. The eye-like bag reappeared.<br />
<br />
"We cannot help you with your time-problem, sadly. But perhaps while you are here we can give you a taste of life in <i>four spatial dimensions</i>?"<br />
<br />
"Very charitable indeed Zorg!"<br />
<br />
"What does that mean?" Udil said.<br />
<br />
"You would not become 4-D like us of course, not even we have the biomancy to perform such a feat. But we can fire a beam into your eyes, allowing you to see light as we do. For a brief time, we can let you see four dimensions!"<br />
<br />
"Physicists everywhere would relish such an opportunity!"<br />
<br />
"I don't know..."<br />
<br />
"Please? We would be honored to show you! It would be a gesture of goodwill from one dimension to another!"<br />
<br />
"As long as ye stop pokin' me innards!"<br />
<br />
"Of course!"<br />
<br />
"An' gimmie back me stuff!"<br />
<br />
"Absolutely!"<br />
<br />
Just as Udil considered agreeing a beam of white light was fired into his eyes. He cried out as his eyes quivered in their sockets. The landscape around him started to melt, or started expanding, he wasn't sure which. Everything seemed to be stretching, growing sharper. He <i>felt</i> like his vision was becoming clearer, but he couldn't put into words exactly <i>how</i>. His eyes watered as the muscles in his face quaked uncontrollably. The whole world was unfolding around him.<br />
<br />
"Well?"<br />
<br />
"I...can see...everything..." Udil said.<br />
<br />
It all suddenly made so much sense. Why couldn't he see any of this before? <i>It seemed so obvious</i>. There was an odd cubical shape in the distance. As his eyes adjusted he could see the entire surface of the cube; front, back, top, bottom. Not only that, he could see inside and watch the squirming, worm-like creatures living inside. <i>And he could see inside of them</i>. The entirety of every object was suddenly laid bare for him to see. He couldn't just see a certain angle of the objects around him, but the entire three-dimensional form, unfolded for him to see.<br />
<br />
"Udil...what did they do? Why are you looking at me like that...?" Scully said.<br />
<br />
To him, the skull looked like a blossoming white flower, reaching towards and away from him, receding into a distance he had no name for yet. The entire outer surface was there, laid out like a sheet as her hollow inside was pulled open to see. Every crack and crevice was there. She had become a kaleidoscope image, the whole world was an explosion of light and form the likes of which he had never seen before.<br />
<br />
"Lass...it's <i>beautiful</i>."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, no. That's where I draw the line. Change him back."<br />
<br />
"But he is enjoying himself so much!"<br />
<br />
"Now you see it esteemed Bronzebolt? Whereas you, a three-dimensional creature can see into a square and see every portion of it, inside and out, we, as four-dimensionals can see the entirety of a cube, inside and out."<br />
<br />
Udil turned to see his captors for the first time. He suppressed a scream as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at; hundreds of appendages, not quite tentacles, but not quite claws either, were writhing in the air. Dozens of eyes dotted the molted grey surfaces of the enormous beings as their long antennae whipped around in rhythmic unison. The two beings weren't inside-out like the rest of the scenery. Their waving hides rippled as they danced in place, the three dimensional surfaces of four dimensional creatures. They stuck out a long appendage, appearing from <i>beyond</i> their bodies to keep Udil from stumbling over.<br />
<br />
If seeing a three-dimensional object in four dimensions was beautiful, seeing Xonxt and Zorg as they were meant to be seen was like a miracle. Udil couldn't help but break down crying.<br />
<br />
"Now you see what you have been missing? And consider, to us this is every day reality."<br />
<br />
"<i>Why couldn't I see this before?</i>"<br />
<br />
"How could you? Before now you lived in mere space, never knowing the greater elegance that is hyperspace."<br />
<br />
"Just imagine it Zorg; to a denizen of Flatland, our esteemed Dwarf would be the extraordinary higher-dimensional. And he would be the one teasing them with his incredible <i>third</i> dimension. And here we are, doing the same with our <i>fourth</i>."<br />
<br />
"Perhaps someday we will receive a visit from a five-dimensional Xonxt!"<br />
<br />
"Over my dead body Zorg!"<br />
<br />
Udil was breathlessly taking in his surroundings. The whole world seemed new to him. An entirely new direction of motion was opened before his eyes, a whole facet of existence he had no idea was there before. It seemed so obvious, so perfect. He was ashamed that he wasn't aware of it before.<br />
<br />
Overjoyed by what he was seeing he looked down at his hands.<br />
<br />
A wave of nausea washed over him as he saw the skin of his hands peeled away, revealing the muscles below. That was peeled away, revealing the pulsating blood vessels, which were opened to show the pumping blood coursing in <i>and around</i> his hands. His bones were floating in midair, appearing both inside and out, the gooey marrow visible wherever he looked..<br />
<br />
His eyes traced the length of his arms. Everywhere it was the same; he had been dissected from the inside out. Now every muscle, every vein, every organ was suspended sickeningly in midair. As he looked down at his chest he could see his tattered green shirt, occupying the same space was the brand of the Everfire, his ribs floating like a grisly chandelier. His heart pulsated like a fleshy flower in his chest, blood flowing in and around it in utter defiance of gravity. His whole body had exploded, every square inch of his person had been made visible.<br />
<br />
"Udil, are you alright?"<br />
<br />
He tried to shut his eyes, but he could only see his own eyelids sliding into place. Somehow, he could also see around them. No matter how hard he tried, the whole world remained open to him. He suddenly felt lightheaded as he could see the blood rushing past his own brain. Zorg reached out a limb to keep him upright. All he could do was watch as the appendage somehow managed to reach past his organs and grasp at his shirt collar. It's suction cups latched onto it from seemingly every angle possible.<br />
<br />
"Perhaps...this is a little much to take in all at once."<br />
<br />
"Yes, perhaps that is enough of the fourth dimension for now."<br />
<br />
Udil was suddenly afraid to stand, worried that he might topple over and scrap his kidneys on the rocky floor. He looked down at the whirling vortices of meat he called his legs and stared deep into floor. It was rock. It was <i>all</i> rock. Rock <i>all the way down</i>. Terror seized him as he realized it: He was seeing clear through <i>the other side of the world</i>.<br />
<br />
"I think we've made a terrible mistake Zorg."<br />
<br />
A salty taste welled up in the vicinity of Udil's mouth. He looked down at his wagging tongue, watching as the muscles that used to be inside it contracted involuntarily. A cold sweat broke out somewhere as he felt himself starting to retch. He tried to look away. But no matter where he turned he could always see his own body suspended in the air from every conceivable angle, interior and exterior. No matter where he turned he couldn't help but see <i>himself</i>. Suddenly he noticed his stomach gurgling, the slimy contents of which were forcing itself past his esophagus. All at once, a stream of vomited shot out, or in, he wasn't sure. Udil crumbled to the floor, whimpering; covered, once again, in his own vomit.<br />
<br />
"Perhaps we should apologize Zorg."<br />
<br />
"I think it's too late for that Xonxt."<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="281" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/foxD6ZQlnlU" width="500"></iframe><br />Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-38863156211627389262014-08-30T20:34:00.002-07:002014-09-12T17:44:41.732-07:00Spooky Scary SkeletonsMeanwhile, in Beebane...<br />
<br />
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<br />
Actuarial Concerns<br />
<br />
by Tyler Baray<br />
<br />
It had been nearly a month since the start of the rainy season. Thunder echoed through the rock face as the front door quaked on it's hinges. The crypt was locked up for the coming months, with only the crypt keeper Margath Yaradrum left to keep watch over it's dank halls. The catacombs were lit by the enchanted lights left behind by the workers, which radiated a shining blue glow over the rough hewn stonework. On every wall were scenes from the legends of Armok, stories of the Empire's battles and their struggle to survive in the jungle. <br />
<br />
Margath's boots echoed down the hall as he made his way to the Crypt of the Bronzesmith. He held a torch out to see into the dark tunnel and was greeted by the stone-like faces of the interred dead. Their leathery skin was stretched taut over their skulls. Their exposed teeth shone in the torchlight. The crypt was silent except for the crackle of the fire.<br />
<br />
The crypt keeper went around to each corpse to check for signs of tampering. They were all accounted for. <i>So far so good</i>, he thought. At this rate, the rainy season just might go easy on him. As he stood there, scribbling notes on his clip board he became aware of a pair of blue lights in the hallway. He squinted to focus his eyes. What looked like a thin white shape was watching him, making a creaking, rattling sound as it stood there. Margath took the iron morning star from his belt and called out to it.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, it's mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. The figure rushed into the light. Margath could see the darkness of the tunnel through it's ribcage. It's smooth skull shone in the ghostly lights in it's eyes. It jumped on him and the two toppled over. Margath's mace clattered to the floor as the skeleton shook him by the collar. He strained to reach the weapon when the skeleton raised it's arm high into the air. It tore into his forehead with it's bony fingers, tearing clear across his face. The crypt keeper struggled against the huge human skeleton, trying to get it off him. All the while it dug into his face with it's claw-like fingers. He shifted his weight to one side and snatched the mace. With a heave, he lifted it clear over his head and bashed the skeleton right in the side of it's skull. It shattered like pottery and the whole frame went limp on top of him. He pushed it off with a heave. Laying on the cold stone floor, he watched as the blood trickled down his face.<br />
<br />
<i>On second thought, maybe not</i>, he thought. Idly, he kicked it's skull which bounced out of the room.<br />
<br />
The first skeleton of the season...<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
"Three years, can ye even believe it?"<br />
<br />
Hilni peered over the wall and took a deep breath of the tropical air. The jungle stretched out in every direction like a massive green quilt laid over the land. Standing behind him, silent and grey was the dormant volcano, the soaring peak of the Southland mountains. A single wisp of smoke billowed out of the volcano's lip and floated high into the sky to meet the gathering clouds above. Aban trundled over from the other side of the terrace carrying the last bundle of supplies with him. Altogether, he had three quivers of crossbow bolts, bandages, salve, caltrops and package of warthog jerky. With a heave he dropped it on the front step.<br />
<br />
"I guess we'll only know if this was enough after tha rainy season." He said.<br />
<br />
"Oh, I don' think we hafta worry aboot that." Hilni said. "He's got half the stockpile locked away down 'ere. If anyone's gonna go hungry it'll be us in tha fortress."<br />
<br />
"What I mean is, is one person enough? The catacombs are crazy this time a' year. If anythin' we shoulda jus' lock tha military down there an' hope fer the best."<br />
<br />
"Oh yeah, yer prob'ly right."<br />
<br />
Hilni took another look across the jungle, stroking his beard.<br />
<br />
"Suppose this is wrong of us...lockin' an old man up in tha crypt for tha whole rainy season, knowin' what's down there."<br />
<br />
Suddenly the crypt door swung open. A dwarf with a long white beard appeared in the doorway, holding a muddy shovel in one hand and a blanched skeletal arm in the other. His boots were muddy and flecked with blood. his entire body seemed covered in knives and hatchets. On the inside of the door was a small wooden plaque. On it were the words Margath Yaradrum - Crypt Keeper.<br />
<br />
"If anythin' it's you lot I'm worried aboot." Margath said. "Knowin' you, a dozen people will be dead between now an' the end of the season and ye'll have no place ta put 'em all."<br />
<br />
"This is still more of a military thing."<br />
<br />
The crypt keeper scoffed. "The army cannae be trusted with a job like this, not when they'll trip down the stairs an' hit their heads or get their fingers caught in their crossbow strings."<br />
<br />
He picked up the bundle of supplies and went back inside. Dark clouds were starting to form over the jungle. Droplets of rain had already started to fall on the abandoned terrace. As the two farmers stood there poking around the freshly harvested crops a small figure could be seen limping from the fortress with a pair of Llynir followed close behind. Margath came back upstairs just in time to see the Emperor stopping buy for a visit.<br />
<br />
Emperor Urist Thunderbeard smiled and waved from across the farm plots. Truth be told, he was actually an intimidating looking little man. The hand he waved with was missing it's pinkie finger. He wore an eyepatch that did little to hide the huge scar running down his face. He was covered in black leather armor, carrying a massive sword on his back with a hilt that was quite clearly made of Dwarven bone. To his side was the Archminister of Information, Tajjini Besaa-Mora and the head of guard in Beebane, Amsiir Saala-Abdasaa. The Llynir stared at them with their cold, unblinking eyes. Long scimitars hung from their belts on jeweled scabbards.<br />
<br />
Aban and Hilni tried to look casual as the officials crossed the terrace.<br />
<br />
"Well lad, looks like yer all stocked up fer the rainy season." Urist said.<br />
<br />
"Yes your Eminence, I think things will go well down 'ere."<br />
<br />
"Call me Urist." He said with a wave of his hand. He peeked inside and nodded.<br />
<br />
"Do ye have enough weapons? I got this new crossbow but I don' suspect I'll be usin' it any time soon." He said as he held out a dignified looking, shiny crossbow. The Bee-and-Anvil emblem was burnt into the stock of course.<br />
<br />
"No thank ye sir. I have plenty downstairs."<br />
<br />
The Emperor only nodded and laughed. <br />
<br />
For a while they sat and talked about their plans for the rainy season. It was a dangerous time of year, when all work outside came to a sudden grinding halt. Dense clouds would blanket the skies and rain would pour like an overflowing river. The jungle became a swamp as coastal flooding sent sea water crashing inland. It would take half a year or more for it to drain completely. All the while exotic tropical fish would swim right up to the entrance of Beebane, perfect for the fishing season to come.<br />
<br />
But in the meantime the jungle would be buffeted by hurricane winds, strong enough to lift a small creature like a dwarf clear off the ground and send them flying, never to be seen again. During the rainy season, the entire fortress shut down. The farms on the terraces were picked clean. All the doors were barred shut. For the next three or four months it's swelling population of Dwarves, Llynir, Gnolls, Humans would do everything they could to wait out the storm, keeping busy however they could. The Emperor was optimistic though. He had devised an ingenious new method of underground farming he was eager to implement. He did his best to explain the concept to Margath who could only nod and try to look like he understood.<br />
<br />
Eventually Urist wished him good luck and went back to the fortress with his crossbow in hand. Tajjini and the farmers followed close behind. Amsiir lingered behind long enough to give the crypt keeper one last ration of supplies; a small pot full of pork dumplings, a family recipe "from old country".<br />
<br />
The rain was already starting to come down as Margath barred the door shut. For the next three months he would be completely alone, with nothing but the freshly dead to keep him company. He elected to stay behind because, in his own words, he was the one most qualified to keep things under control. He had been a grave digger for longer than most of the Imperials had been alive. If there was one thing he understood, it was the dead.<br />
<br />
He wished he could say Beebane's crypts were a special case. But the truth was he had seen it all before. Beebane, he determined, had been suffering from a necromancer problem. A spirit, a wizard, whatever it was had taken residence at the deepest layer of the crypt and had been practicing it's foul art on the bodies inside. The military managed to fight back against the dark forces at work within, but just barely. There was a lingering evil inside that no one in the Empire knew how to cleanse and to the horror of all, bodies were still coming to life seemingly at random. <br />
<br />
Margath Yaradrum took it upon himself to keep their numbers down while the rest of the custodian crew was away. He loaded up on every variety of weapon the blacksmiths could forge and had a private storehouse stuffed with food and bandages. He did this in the hope that when the rain stopped, the people of the Empire could come back and pay respect to their dead relatives again in peace. Maybe some of them would be missing heads or have been sawed in half. But they wouldn't be moving and to Margath, that was a success in itself.<br />
<br />
However, the first month was relatively quiet. In the morning he would take a brisk jog around the crypt before going back to his paperwork. There was a library's worth of books locked inside with him which kept him occupied. When there was nothing else to do he would make watercolor landscapes on old parchments, mostly of the inside of the crypt. As he counted each day going by he realized he would be missing the Emperor's wedding, not that he was particularly upset about this. A couple weeks later would be the third annual Imperial Day, celebrating the anniversary of the Empire's founding. That was something he was <i>happy</i> he was going to miss. He was in Beebane for last year's celebration which basically amounted to an out of control riot lasting a little over a week, little more than an excuse for the entire population to get drunk and start fist fights in the hallways. He could only imagine this year was going to be even more out of control, especially since there were over a hundred new people living in the fortress by that point.<br />
<br />
No, he was happy to have his own private space for a few months, a safe place far away from all those in Beebane who were quickly succumbing to cabin fever.<br />
<br />
It was only a week after Imperial Day that Margath met his first reanimated skeleton. It caught him by surprise in one of the tunnels and clawed him in the face, but he managed to overpower it. After that, it was quiet again. With little else to do and no sign of more skeletons awakening, he want back to work cataloging all the corpses. Aban asked him to make the list. Truth be told, there was no shortage of them; he had enough here to keep him busy for a whole month. Just as well, as he wanted a complete record for an actuarial table he was making.<br />
<br />
Slowly but surely he made his way down the list of new residents: <br />
<br />
# 124<br />
Name: Tholdig Thornhammer<br />
Race: Dwarf<br />
Age: 51<br />
Cause of Death: Ate a basilisk berry<br />
<br />
# 125 <br />
Name: Lor'k <br />
Race: Gnoll <br />
Age: 22 <br />
Cause of Death: Killed by the Emperor<br />
<br />
-She summoned an elemental made of all our food, it was her own fault. -U<br />
<br />
# 126<br />
Name: Bjorn Blackmarsh<br />
Race: Human<br />
Age: 32<br />
Cause of Death: Beaten to death by monkeys<br />
<br />
# 127<br />
Name: Solon Silverspur<br />
Race: Dwarf<br />
Age: 35<br />
Cause of Death: Suicide<br />
<br />
Now this was an interesting case. Margath had only heard stories about her death, since it happened before he arrived in Beebane. But it had become something of a local legend and no one knew exactly how much of it was actually true. In life, she had been the Archminister of Agriculture and one of the original twelve who founded the fortress. Somewhere down the line she got in a fight with a Bugbear and lost her leg. Some say it was actually amputated to spread an infection, possibly by Nanaak Saala-Notila, who himself had died recently. Whatever the case, she was best remembered for her pegleg, which was carved by Urist himself. After the incident with the Bugbear, things generally went downhill for her.<br />
<br />
She eventually lost her job at the Archministry. Aban took her place. From then on, if she hadn't herself locked in her room she could be found in her little corner in the tavern, drinking the night away. Eventually a rumor started to circulate that, in her worsening depression, she was having a turgid affair with a Gnoll living in Beebane. By then, her public reputation was completely ruined. A couple months later her neighbors started to complain of a foul smell coming from her room. Sure enough, she had killed herself. The funeral was small, attended only by her former colleagues. It was a closed-casket ceremony of course. She had reached a fairly advanced state of decay by that point. <br />
<br />
Margath shuffled through her file and shook his head. She had the distinction of being the only suicide case in the Empire's admittedly short history. Almost every other death that year had occurred because of a mining accident, or eating poisonous vegetation or being beaten to death by the wildlife. But more than anything else, most deaths were related to the military. Margath snorted. If there was one thing the military was good at, it was getting themselves killed. Back when the undead problem was at it's worst they had formed a cordon around the crypt, trying to stem the tide of zombies and skeletons from making their way above ground. For weeks and weeks they stayed there. The battle line never moved once in all that time. And when they finally decided to venture down into the crypt nearly all of them died. Out of the twenty six that ventured down, only six were able to claw their way back up to the surface, leaving Beebane virtually defenseless until the next wave of immigrants arrived. And that wasn't counting the little expeditions they took before then, when a whole squad was torn to pieces by the skeletons waiting below.<br />
<br />
He started to sort away the files. To be fair, the military had a few successes in the past. Maybe not with the undead problem specifically, but with other concerns outside the crypt. When the road was being built between Beebane and Bistleholm a worker was kidnapped by bandits who demanded a ransom for her return. The Emperor instead decided to send in the military, who managed to raze the entire camp, kill all but two of the bandits who they brought back as prisoners and somehow get the hostage back to safety. To this day no one's quite sure how they managed it, but the Empire hadn't had a problem with bandits since. Besides that, they were generally good at keeping the local goblin's numbers down.<br />
<br />
In spite of everything, they had managed to put an end to the immediate threat in the catacombs, he had to give them that. Though he wouldn't admit it, the stories of what they actually fought at the bottom layer were enough to make even him uneasy. Margath found it harder and harder to ignore these thoughts as the days went by. Slowly but surely, the dead closest to the bottom started to become restless; moving when he wasn't looking, howling from the other side of the crypt. There were times when he would enter a room and find every body stored inside staring right at him. Silent and motionless; dead by all accounts but watching him.<br />
<br />
As the weeks dragged on he found it harder to focus on the clerical side of his work. Bodies seemed to be moving from one crypt to another. Scratch marks started appearing on all the doors. Something had changed in the air, like a fog that pressed down on his chest. Each day it seemed to get darker and colder in the tunnels. All the while the sound of rain and thunder from outside never ceased. A black haze clung to the floor, rising up like smoke from the depths of the catacombs. Cold blue lights appeared in the eyes of all the corpses, glowing like candle lights in the darkness.<br />
<br />
Margath quietly walked down the stairs to the third layer. A chill wind was blowing from below. He could see his breath in front of his face. He heard a loud scratching coming from down there earlier. With a torch in one hand and a long flail in the other he went down to investigate. There wasn't a hint of fear to be found on his face. Fighting the undead was nothing new to Margath. When he was younger he had been a squire in an order of Paladins dedicated to hunting such creatures. He had stared into the decaying face of death more times than he could remember. Whatever was waiting downstairs wasn't anything that would come as a surprise to him.<br />
<br />
He put his ear to the door and listened; complete silence. The scratching had stopped back when he was climbing down the steps. Now, he waited with one hand clutching the handle, the other tightening over the flail. With a sudden rush of cold air he flung the door open and swung the flail over his head. Staring him right in the face were a pair of empty eye sockets, an eerie blue glow piercing him as he swung. The flail's spiked head came crashing down on the skull, shattering it. It continued to bore through the brittle skeleton, smashing the rip cage and sending it clattering to the floor in a heap of bone dust. In the light from the glowing stones and the flickering torch in the hallway, dozens of other skeletons could be seen. All of them were standing on shaking, creaking legs, watching the crypt keeper as he stood in the doorway. All at once, they started to scream and charged at him.<br />
<br />
He stood back and let them crowd each other in the narrow doorway. Then, as they struggled to get through he started bashing them to pieces. Bone splinters were flung all over the room as he bashed them to pieces. With a heave, he swung the flail over his head and sent it crashing down right into the forehead of a skeleton reaching for his throat. It struck, splitting it neatly in half. The entire skeleton crumpled inward and collapsed. Suddenly there was an opening as undead started pouring out, falling over each other as they clawed at him.<br />
<br />
A howling sound echoed throughout the crypt as all the light seemed to leave the tunnels. The air suddenly felt ice cold, piercing into Margath's bones as he climbed up the stairs. A skeleton crawled after him and latched onto his ankle. He kicked it, sending it careening down the stairs. It shattered as it fell to the bottom. Margath swung the flail in wide arcs like he was threshing grain, tossing skeletons around and sending them tumbling back down to the bottom. He found a steady rhythm as he climbed up the stairs backwards, always keeping the skeletons out of arms reach. Slowly he was whittling down their numbers until only two or three half-broken skeletons were trying to claw at him.<br />
<br />
He made it to the top of the steps as the last of them was pulling itself up. With one last swing, he bashed it in the jaw, shattering it's skull. It fell over backwards and collapsed, bones bounced down the steps to the bottom, falling into the growing pile below. Margath laughed to himself as surveyed his work. He was busy dusting himself off when he was suddenly pushed forward. He fell and twisted his ankle. Before he even realized it, Margath started to roll down the stairs, falling on top of the pile of jagged, broken bones.<br />
<br />
Standing at the top of the steps was a greenish-grey corpse, it's eyes glowing an eerie blue. The skin around it's mouth and nose had decayed so much as to render it unrecognizable. It's hands had been twisted into claws, like a vulture's. It's nails had long since fallen off. The creature gurgled as if trying to speak, barely able to move it's jaw under it's parched, leathery skin.<br />
<br />
The zombie stumbled forward, it's leather boot shuffling on the stone floor. It's pegleg struck the ground with an audible <i>plink</i>. Slowly, clumsily it reached out for him. Margath could only lay at the bottom, bruised and battered as he watched Solon's corpse come after him. She reached with outstretched arms, bony fingers gripping at the air. She made it to the top step...and slipped.<br />
<br />
Solon fell down the stairs, bouncing the whole way. With a pained howl she fell into the heap of broken skeletons beside Margath. He pulled himself out as she struggled to free herself. He watched in bewilderment as she thrashed around, unable to stand up on her wooden leg. Rolling his eyes, the crypt keeper went back upstairs.<br />
<br />
From all over the tombs came the sound of awakening undead, followed by a loud shuffling as they forced their way out of their caskets. Margath reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a glass jar filled with lamp oil. Beebane hadn't used lamps for over two years, so when he asked for a small supply of it from the Emperor, he had no trouble getting it. Seeing the roving band of last month's dead soldiers, he was glad he did. Margath flung the jar into the hallway. It shattered, covering the walking corpses in oil. Unable to think of anything witty to say, he tossed the torch in after them. Each zombie burst into flame at once and started screaming as they flailed around the cramped hallway. The fire burned so brightly it cut straight through the eerie haze and bathed the entire tunnel in flickering orange light. The zombies fell over and quietly burned in a heap of charred flesh.<br />
<br />
The crypt keeper forced his way back up to the top, smashing his way through the awakening horde of the dead. By the time he made it back to his office there was a trail of blood and mismatched limbs strewn throughout the crypt. His face had been cut to ribbons by the skeletons trying to scratch his eyes out. Bite marks ran down the length of his arms and legs. He looked back on the carnage and groaned. All this meant was that he would have to clean it up later.<br />
<br />
The next week and a half consisted of exactly that. All the while more corpses started to reanimate, or in some cases re-reanimate. As time went by he found himself smashing the same battered Dwarves three or four times each. And somehow, they just seemed to be getting stronger. Burning them seemed to kill them permanently, but as soon as he realized this he had run out of lamp oil. Removing heads and limbs made them less dangerous, but it also meant having to track down an increasing number of undead arms and legs inching around the tunnels like abominable worms.<br />
<br />
Eventually however, he was able to get them back down to a manageable number. All the walls were covered in blood, some of it his. And there were piles of corpses stacked on top of each other as makeshift barricades, but after nearly two weeks of nonstop fighting, he was able to finally sit down and rest. And yet, the oppressive darkness and cold never went away. The thunder outside only ever seemed to get louder and louder, rattling through the mountain face.<br />
<br />
Margath sat at his rocking chair, blowing into a bowl of soup when there was suddenly a knock on the front door. His brow twisted in disbelief as a loud cracking emanated from the door. As it swung open he thought the wind had ripped it from it's hinges. There was a deafening howl as the wind and rain rushed in. Papers and empty bags flew around the room as if the entire hurricane threatened to force itself inside. Margath's bowl of soup was thrown across the room as a single small figure tried to force it's way inside. More followed close behind.<br />
<br />
Together they were able to push the door closed. The gale suddenly ceased and the sound of thunder returned to the distance outside.<br />
<br />
"Who in blue blazes are ye people?"<br />
<br />
"Who do ye think?" The one at front said as he pointed to the badge on his uniform: the Bee-And-Anvil, with a single chevron on his shoulder.<br />
<br />
"Tourists?" Was all Margath could think to say.<br />
<br />
One of the soldiers at the back gasped. "We lost Orik!" She said. The leader looked back at the rain-drenched group. "No, not just him," He said. "Valin is missin' as well." The whole squad suddenly went silent as they realized what had happened. Margath was left standing in front of them, wounds from battle with the undead visible all over his person, his soup strewn all over the floor.<br />
<br />
"Wait a minute, what are ye people actually doin' here? No one was supposed ta even be outside until the rain let up."<br />
<br />
"This is an emergency!" "The fate of the Empire depends on it!"<br />
<br />
The crypt keeper looked at them with a blank expression.<br />
<br />
"<i>The Emperor is turnin' into an elf.</i>"<br />
<br />
Margath opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.<br />
<br />
"Someone cast a spell on him an' if we don't find out how ta reverse it he'll hafta abdicate tha throne!" The leader said.<br />
<br />
"Then Sankis will be Empress!" The one in the back said, starting to panic.<br />
<br />
"Do you realize what's been going on down here!?" Margath said. "I have been knee deep in the dead all rainy season, no let up, no time to even have a bowl of soup! It's been hell down 'ere. So I expe-"<br />
<br />
"Listen, we feel terrible, but have you seen any elves crawlin' around 'ere?" The leader said. "Or 'ave ye seen any evidence of evil rituals? Involvin' elves?"<br />
<br />
"I have been fightin' skeletons nonstop fer weeks. I can only sleep while safetly perched ontop of a pile of bones so they can't reach me. I have seen walkin' corpses hewn in half so many times I feel more at home talkin' ta people's insides than their faces." Margath said.<br />
<br />
"...So have ye seen any elves?"<br />
<br />
Margath stormed off to his office without a word. As far as he was concerned, it was their problem now. He laid on his bed with his arms folded, muttering to himself, <i>stupid brainless thugs wanderin' in 'ere</i>, <i>I hope they all get blown off tha mountain</i>...It was just as well that they came, he thought. With them stumbling around he had enough of a distraction for the skeletons to get a few good hours of sleep. Suddenly he became very aware of how much his limbs ached. His head was swimming from exhaustion. Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep under his desk.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
Margath awoke to the sound of screaming from deep in the crypt. Grabbing a crossbow and mace he bolted downstairs. He was in a fog. What did he do last night? Was there something important he was forgetting? There were bodies here he didn't recognize. These uniforms looked familiar. Suddenly it hit him: <i>those idiots in the army again</i>. What were they doing down here? Why were they in the crypt while it was still raining outside? His minds filled with questions. All the while the tombs seemed darker and colder than ever before. A thick haze filled his vision, something just seemed <i>wrong</i> about this place.<br />
<br />
The screams faded away just as he made his way to the last layer. Below that was where the miners had given up digging. The door was swinging on it's hinges. A black vapor leaked out from the opening. Every hair on the crypt keeper's body stood up at once. He felt like he had ice water dumped on top of him. An overwhelming sense of evil washed over him as he saw the black haze creeping out of the basement door, almost like it was pulling on him.<br />
<br />
A bead of cold sweat raced down his forehead. Slowly, silently, he crept toward the door. The vapor coiled around the door like snakes climbing up a tree. He felt colder and weaker with each step. As he approached the door and reached out his hand he felt like an icicle was piercing his palm. Suddenly he tripped on a crossbow bolt and the whole room seemed to freeze. The black smoke seemed to stop moving, as if watching him. He froze. For several long, agonizing seconds he simply stood and watched the unnatural emanation curling around the tunnel. Again, he advanced forward. Then, with a suddenly jolt of movement, he slammed the door shut. The smoke dissipated with a hiss and the whole room seemed suddenly brighter.<br />
<br />
There was a faint sound from downstairs. What it was, he didn't know. But for once, he didn't care to find out. Margath let out a relieved sigh and got to work counting the bodies. From what he could remember, there should have been about five still down there in the basement, the cavern beneath the crypt. What things crawled down there, he couldn't guess. But as he made his way back up to his office the tombs seemed brighter and somehow warmer. If he had to guess, whatever was down there, was staying down there now.<br />
<br />
...<br />
<br />
The sun was shining. The last of the clouds were breaking up on the horizon. From the terrace Margath could see Imperial citizens stretching their legs at the tunnel entrance, some were already hauling their fishing boats to the docks. The swamp stretched out like a massive emerald pool poured over the land, the tall boughs of the trees just barely peeking out of the water.<br />
<br />
The Emperor was sitting on the wall, looking out at the metamorphosed landscape.<br />
<br />
"Thanks fer gettin' yer report to my desk so soon." He said. "That was an interestin' read."<br />
<br />
Margath could only manage an approving grunt as he slumped down in his chair.<br />
<br />
"So everythin's alright down there now?"<br />
<br />
The crypt keeper frowned. "Well sir, I have ta say no. I think the worst of whatever was 'appenin' down 'ere is over. But the reanimation will prob'ly never stop altagether."<br />
<br />
The Emperor nodded, seeming to understand what he meant. "No, during the rainy season we figured out what was happenin', more or less." He said. "An' we were able to put a stop to it, or rather, it put a stop to itself. But something tells me that what was down there made it's mark. This is an evil that will linger with us fer a long, long time."<br />
<br />
"You mean...you knew what was happenin'?" Margath said.<br />
<br />
"Sort of. It's complicated." Urist said. "It involved elves. It's a long story."<br />
<br />
They both sighed as they stared into the dark crypt. With a shrug Urist took his leave and made his way across the terrace. In the distance the crypt keeper could see Sankis Stonehammer looking across the wall. He reminded himself it was actually <i>Thunderbeard</i> now. A part of him didn't think it would last.<br />
<br />
Margath closed the door and headed back to the office, rubbing his tired eyes the whole way. The path was littered with piles of splintered bones. There were deep gouge marks in the stonework. The air was thick with the smell of burnt flesh as he made his way down the steps. When he finally made it to the office the door was swinging on it's hinges. Long claw marks ran down it's length. From inside came the sound of moaning and a chain rattling. Cautiously, he pushed the door open.<br />
<br />
An empty beer bottle flew past his head and smashed in the hallway. Inside, Solon struggled against the chain keeping her from tearing his lungs out. She had flipped his desk over, tossing papers and supplies all over the small room. He calmly walked around the mess and turned the desk over. All the while Solon snarled at him.<br />
<br />
"Lass you know you can only stay up 'ere if ye behave yerself." He said sternly.<br />
<br />
Solon roared as she slashed at the air with her bony claws. Margath said nothing and simply watched her with his arms crossed. Reluctantly, she sat back down and grumbled incoherently. The crypt keeper nodded in approval and placed a large stack of papers on the desk.<br />
<br />
"I hope ye remember how ta do paperwork lass, because we need ta start preparin' fer next year."Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-9914783916769931712014-08-24T11:51:00.002-07:002014-09-12T15:25:20.627-07:00DEFCON 1Just a short update for now while I work on a larger post.<br />
<br />
When I commit myself to researching an interesting topic or working on something important I have a tendency to go <i>a little</i> overboard. I let the subject at hand completely consume me and I end up spend much of my time contemplating it. If I allow this to go on long enough these sorts of thoughts start to take up valuable real estate in my brain until, finally, it all spills over. After that, I start having <i>really</i> strange dreams related to my current obsession.<br />
<br />
I can't count all the times I've been busy angrily yelling at someone in a dream only to be interrupted by a Dalek wheeling into the room and start shouting nonsense that sounded important at the time but after I woke up I realized was just nonsense. When I spend a lot of time working on maps I often wake up the next morning remembering little else but seeing Hammer's 2-D grid plastered over everything. Well lately, I've been researching <i>nukes</i>.<br />
<br />
I admit it: I have been completely enamored with nuclear weapons lately. <i>They're horrible</i> but are so awe-inspiring in how horrible they are. Everything about them is fascinating. Think about all the engineering that went into making them, all the scientists and all the discoveries that had to be made to make them possible. And what was the result? A weapon so powerful we've decided that they were <i>too terrible to use</i>. How many other times in history has that happened?<br />
<br />
The attitude surrounding nuclear weapons is fascinating too: People are absolutely terrified by them. Nukes have become a symbol of everything wrong with the modern world, reviled and feared the world over. And it's not just us who think this way. Even alien invaders can agree: nukes are bad. Think about it, how many movies have you seen where the holier-than-thou aliens are putting humanity on trial and their argument for destroying us is always stock footage of the Castle Bravo detonation.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/0WxAlIPSxlE" width="480"></iframe><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/xpwYKaLD66U" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Well, because I've been reading so much about the ultimate symbol of Man's hubris they've started making some <i>interesting</i> appearances in my recent dreams.<br />
<br />
The earliest one I can remember happened about two months ago. I was abducted by a nameless person and forced into a black sedan. We drive down a winding country road in complete silence. My abductor looks ahead with stern determination, their face an unmoving frown the whole way. I never bother to ask why this is happening.<br />
<br />
Eventually my kidnapper either explains or I naturally determine that we're going for a camping trip near a lake. I start to look forward to this until I realize there isn't actually a lake. Instead, we drive up to an empty model home in the middle of the woods. The car speeds away as I'm left standing on the front porch with a pamphlet of the house's layout and price range. Another vague, unidentifiable person appears and starts exploring the house. I seem to think they're an old friend of mine.<br />
<br />
Frustrated by the turn of events I go around to the back of the house and find a large ditch. It looks like a pipe was meant to go here, like a septic line. Nearby is a huge pile of glowing gravel. But it's not just any ordinary gravel, oh no. It's <i>enriched uranium</i>. So I get a shovel and start dumping the radioactive material into the ditch. As I pour more uranium into the hole it starts to glow brighter and I can feel a dry heat radiating from the growing pile. As I shovel more and more into the pit it starts to go critical. Eventually the gravel becomes glowing orange embers as the entire mass undergoes fission.<br />
<br />
After that, dreams about homemade reactors or radiation were sadly few and far between. The best that could be hoped for were the ghostly images of a mushroom cloud rising on the horizon. <br />
<br />
Then, three days ago I have another nuclear dream. I'm standing on a cliff looking at a huge metropolitan city. It's early morning and the sun is just starting to peek over the huge skyscrapers. Suddenly, an enormous black shape appears, striding over the buildings and smashing them to rubble. It's walks on three graceful, mechanical legs like a tripodal giraffe. It's body is like a giant sea mine with Hertz horn-like protrusions studding it's entire surface. A single glowing red eye sits in the middle of it's spherical body, coldly regarding the destruction it had caused.<br />
<br />
This machine had been sent here by an alien civilization to judge the human race. If it decided we were worthy of life, maybe it would be content to destroy this one city and return to the stars. But if we displeased it, it would have no choice but to self destruct. The machine came equipped with a massive thermonuclear device implanted deep in it's core. A lithium bomb that would explode with force exceeding even the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsar_Bomba">Tsar Bomba</a>. If the machine decided our time had come, it could initiate Doomsday and crack the planet in half.<br />
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People from all over the world came to plead with it, hoping to convince it that the human race wasn't beyond redemption. School teachers, politicians, scientists, expecting mothers; all of them came with clasped hands held high, trying to reason with the tripod monster.<br />
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And then the dream went...a little stupid. Suddenly Godzilla rose out of the ocean with Mario riding on top of his head. A cascade of red mushrooms fell from the sky as they charged to attack the machine. The last thing I remember was an intense burning and a bright light.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-12610809390287144932014-07-29T15:50:00.004-07:002014-07-29T22:30:10.851-07:00Abandon ShipBelieve it or not, I have mapping related news again. Holy smokes!<br />
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D.E.L.B. asked me to help him with his game mode project inspired by <i>The Birds</i> again. This time, he wanted me to place props in a finished, but otherwise barren map.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYlnmYkyFTUbxILjlBaQVTvL_TOiyInrgwYEAx1v3ZnXNxX_3ofo03D_OoEXt4RYhpKKhLYa0Agq6Y-YuShWsSyIMJ6qBNtWEGq8rpbS5jKL3lD28_s70lMMmMFErR6whLuUzIbSQouv7/s1600/220_screenshots_2014-07-23_00001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYlnmYkyFTUbxILjlBaQVTvL_TOiyInrgwYEAx1v3ZnXNxX_3ofo03D_OoEXt4RYhpKKhLYa0Agq6Y-YuShWsSyIMJ6qBNtWEGq8rpbS5jKL3lD28_s70lMMmMFErR6whLuUzIbSQouv7/s1600/220_screenshots_2014-07-23_00001.jpg" height="225" width="400" /></a></div>
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The idea is pretty unique too: a small military ship, like a Coast Guard cutter stranded at sea and surrounded on all sides by <i>dirty, filthy birds</i> that the player must defend themselves against. His only real stipulation was that the props I use be period-appropriate for the 1960's. So the decision was made to fill it's interior with as many metal pipes as it could accommodate. This actually ended up being a little more difficult than I thought it would be. Since the hallways inside the ship were shorter than Half-Life 2's standard hallways there were plenty of places where pipes stuck through the floor and risked appearing a level above or below.<br />
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I ended up arranging pipes like a carefully constructed origami sculpture, placing them according to wall thickness so nothing poked through the hull at inconvenient angles.<br />
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Of course, the map would never <i>truly</i> be done unless disaster struck at some point.<br />
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Disaster finally came when I noticed a small yellow button on the top deck. Remember, I didn't construct this map, I was only decorating it. So it's inner workings were a mystery to me. Well, I pressed the button...and nothing happened. I chalked it up to being an unfinished feature and went back to wandering around the boat. But as time went by I started to notice suspicious metal 'pinging' sounds coming from below deck. The lockers I had placed earlier were flying around the hallways, colliding with <i>something</i> I wasn't aware of. More of these little oddities started to appear.<br />
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I don't remember this being under water...<br />
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Did I really place these props crookedly like this?...<br />
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Suddenly it dawned on me: the button makes the whole boat <i>sink</i>. Before I knew it, the entire thing went diagonal and dove under the water...conspicuously <i>not</i> taking all the props with it. As it fell to the unseen bottom all the pipes and valves I had been placing remained stationary, eerily floating above the water like the ship's left-behind skeleton. These pictures you've been seeing were screenshots I took when I first learned about all this. It was so shocking I knew I just had to save it for my scrapbook.<br />
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I told D.E.L.B. what had happened. His response could basically be summed up as "Oops". Apparently the boat's self destruct device had been in development for a long time, it's just that no one bothered to tell me. Because, as always, no one ever tells me anything.<br />
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Everything ended up being alright though. All the models I used were easily converted from static props to dynamics with no errors arising. After that, it was easy to parent them to the boat entity. With that done, the pipes could be expected to go down with the ship without phasing through the walls or floors like some kind of demented ghost.<br />
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There was a persistent problem I couldn't fix though. Because the boat was a giant func_brush with it's own simulated physics, it was <i>very</i> difficult to place physics props without them bouncing all over the interior. Maybe it's just a quirk of the physics engine, or because so many physics calculations were being done at once; but for whatever reason, every physics prop I placed would slide around like the floors were made of ice or clip through each other and make a big mess. It was a disaster and I ended up getting rid of most of them. I have no idea if the problem could be fixed or not, I assume not. But hey, it's not my department, I'm just the interior decorator.<br />
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All in all, I actually really liked working on this map. The brush work was very well done and much like the mod itself, it's an unusual idea for a Source engine project. Apparently, the story this time around is that the player is the last sailor left alive after the ship ran aground (explaining the big gaping hole decal I was asked to place). Stressful enough on it's own, but now imagine<i> filthy birds</i> pecking at you.<br />
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And finally here's a giant oil drum from an unrelated project.<br />
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Yes, there's actually a keyvalue for prop gigantism. And yes, I never bothered to toy around with it until now. My failure to include giant cacti in maps until now will probably be remembered as the greatest failure of my life.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5484428101282536617.post-45154346428505489242014-07-13T22:52:00.002-07:002014-07-13T22:52:14.029-07:00Your's TrulyOh hey, don't mind me. I'm just holding all these bunnies is all.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4NcMZJOKgwiu-uNAzdenPYSJ_IV0Uz1xP84nvFrBjDhsZ0S5ayJjopxj1bR6QmktdHndpT99V42x0H3mEoAIv0EtXSeJL1qeciaUcqFEHjpTjValLW1kPkY-a5iUtzQqWBp1RhnyW8Hp/s1600/ohmanbunnies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4NcMZJOKgwiu-uNAzdenPYSJ_IV0Uz1xP84nvFrBjDhsZ0S5ayJjopxj1bR6QmktdHndpT99V42x0H3mEoAIv0EtXSeJL1qeciaUcqFEHjpTjValLW1kPkY-a5iUtzQqWBp1RhnyW8Hp/s1600/ohmanbunnies.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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I figured it was only appropriate to wait until Bunday to show you all this. Apparently there was a pet store in town with rabbits this whole time and <i>I didn't know about it</i>.<br />
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Seriously, take a good look at that picture because I'm almost never that happy. In fact, handing me a rabbit is probably the only sure-fire way to get me to smile for pictures. Because as we all know, there are only two things in life that will make my face jump from "mild irritation" to "slightly content" and that's <i>Daleks</i>. It's also bunnies.<br />
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Being around rabbits is actually pretty therapeutic for me. I'm generally a very wound up person, somewhere between George Costanza and Joe Pesci as far as levels of agitation go. But as soon as I'm in proximity to a rabbit I drift down to 'merely' normal person levels of anxiety. Dogs are too stupid and loud, if anything having one around would just make me more upset. Cats are too aloof and untrustworthy, I can't trust them and they just stress me out more. Having a pet octopus is out of the question so really, the only animal I could stand living with is a big armful of rabbits. Only then will my life be complete.<br />
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...Well okay, my life will be complete when I have that <i>and</i> my Dalek shell. But you know, one step at a time.Shadgrimgrvyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08508791371589413553noreply@blogger.com4