Many of the SRPGs I’ve reviewed over the past few weeks use Tarot cards as a random oracle, so I have perforce found myself handling the ol’ pasteboards again.Doing so has unlocked, or at least stirred, some very pleasant and poignant memories. Perhaps the approaching Hallows put me in a receptive frame of mind.
It only took a few moments of reflection to realize that, in focusing on my career and Shadow Work since 2014-15, I have unintentionally drifted away from contact and involvement with the Otherworlds and their denizens.
A so-called career path is a nearly universal distraction from the internal life, and more than enough has been said about that by others. Nonetheless, I found a great deal of satisfaction and validation in finally getting a “big boy” coding job, so it was “positive distraction”, perhaps?
For its part, Shadow Work is a wonderful modality, and I am eternally grateful for what I have learned from and through it.But in the end, it is based in archetypal psychology, and thus is not inherently mystical or spiritual, although the experience of Shadow Work can be both. I believe the majority of Shadow Worker would rejoice if it were suddenly to be declared “hard science”.
Zen also eschews the “woo-woo”, in favor of concentrating on taming the mind, and I’ve been easing deeper into Zen in the last 2 or 3 years.
All unknowing, in pursuit of one set of paths, I came to neglect another, which is at least as rich and valuable.
I’ve kept up my reading on the Norse, but again it’s been tending toward the academic and historical.I wave at the mythologies as they float past in context.
Perhaps, after a number of years immersed in the more phenomenological frameworks, I shifted base paradigms for a time, and just drifted.
But I’m back now, bitches.So hitch up yer drawers and hang onto yer broomsticks…
Phaseways are a trope I toyed with some years ago, inspired partly by the alien transporter tech in Assignment: Earth and partly by The Last Stand of the DNA Cowboys by Mick Farren.
Essentially, they began in my imagination as an immense web of “warp conduits”, but for individuals, not ships. The phaseways are Forerunner tech, so the current inhabitants of the galaxy use them, but don’t really understand them. With the proper tech or psionic ability, a person can “phase” from one destination to another, as easily as stepping through a door. (Which means the concept is also based on The Lion Game by James H. Schmitz.)
I intended it to be extravagant and unlikely, merely a gimmick that briefly infatuated me.
In the Dirge-iverse, I’m recasting the phaseways as the very aforementioned network of warp conduits, used by Affiliation ships to traverse the galaxy. I’m merging this with the concept of “forking” – the phaseways can be seen as an immense highway network, with “on- and off-ramps” forking off of larger, regional arteries.
“I’m forking off to Alpha Cent tomorrow…”
Even for the most advance Affiliation vessels, navigating the phaseways is a bit like riding a flatboat down a frontier river in the 1700s. There are obstacles and dangers that we are barely aware of and have little hope of understanding. Any Forerunner tech that makes forking safer and faster is highly sought by pretty much everyone – governments, cults, corporations, mad scientists and, of course, adventurers at large. (See what I did there?)
I’ve recreated Dirge’s Loner character card, and then expanded on each entry.
Name:
Dirge Darkrune
Concept:
Intergalactic Ne’er-Do-Well
Skills:
Crack Pistol Shot
Martial Arts Master *
Frailties:
Socially Clueless
Skua September
Motive(s):
Fame
Fortune
Goal(s):
Not Getting Caught
Getting Rid of Skua
Nemeses:
The Treemutes
Skua
Gear:
Ring Plaster
Intergalactic Ne’er-Do-Well
Dirge’s homeworld and intermittent base of operations is Bev-Arajh, a shabby, run-down former resort world fallen on hard times. In its heyday, Bev was the Jewel of the Cosmos, but now is more a cosmic roadside attraction with a reputation for tarnished glitz, grimy neon and shady street corner games of “chance’. (Think AC before the brush-up in the 80s.) Bev isn’t some kind of Casablanca, some exotic, neutral port of call. More like it’s just not worth the effort to anyone with the power to matter. Not that there’s a lot of crime and/or villainy that needs policing – cool and successful criminals do not come to Bev, and if they happen to be born there, they leave almost as soon as they become aware of that fact. It may be the generally bland, uninteresting and apathetic nature of the place that makes it an idea hideout for anyone who can withstand the crushing boredom.
Somewhat atypically, Dirge did not make the acquaintance of shady people and questionable places until he’d been off Bev for a few years, chasing the dream of government employment, and then only because he made the unfortunate acquaintance of Skua, as described below.
Crack Pistol Shot
Oddly enough, Dirge is an authentic crack shot, a Trinity-level savant with a handgun. Due mostly to the fact that there just isn’t a lot to do on Bev that doesn’t cost exorbitant amounts. A stolen, solar-powered pin-blaster (or plaster) – the Saturday Night Special of the day – can provide hours of diversion, practice and sometimes income. But the less said about that the better. They can even stun an opponent in a pinch. As non-lethal as you can get and still be mildly unpleasant, the proliferation of plasters on Bev led to a duelist culture among the youth and young adults. If you didn’t want to get plastered, you better be fast on the draw. And Dirge really disliked the post plaster hangover.*
Martial Arts Master
He is not, however, an authentic Master of the Martial Arts. Rather, he is yet another deluded punter who joined the notorious Black Dragon Fighting Society, founded in the distant past by the near-mythic Count Dante himself! Needless to say, Dirge would lose a lot more fistfights if it weren’t for Skua.
Socially Clueless
As a young, aspiring bureaucrat and politician, Dirge wasn’t all that socially awkward, more like trying too hard to be cool, and a little too narcissistic to read subtle social cues. He came to feel that he needed an edge to get ahead in the Skein, the vast tangle of governmental entities that somehow allowed the Affiliated Worlds to live and trade in relative peace. (“Affiliated Worlds”, because “Allied Worlds” was just a step too far.). Unfortunately, the solution that found him only made things worse. Social situations become intolerable when you might become a raging space pirate at any moment.
Skua
In his search for that edge, Dirge ran afoul of rogue tech. A pirate-themed personality analog chip that was supposed to help him be more daring and assertive ended up moving in beside his native consciousness and setting up business. Skua September, as it calls itself, usually manifests in those moments when Dirge’s normal clueless bravado falters, such as when he’s confronted with a beautiful woman or a dire threat. Then Skua emerges, and becomes the very incarnation of Blackbeard himself. But Skua is also highly erratic and unreliable. It can’t be depended on to pull Dirge out of a tight spot on-demand, as it were. Sometimes it just doesn’t give a fuck. It’s a construct, basically an autonomous trope, and doesn’t think like we do.
Fame and Fortune
Do a character’s motivations always have to complex or inscrutable? Financial security and social recognition have motivated humankind since its origins. Dirge grew up in poverty, and managed to turn a potential disaster into a career of sorts. Not the one he initially wanted, but certainly one that is way more exciting and profitable than driving a desk.
Not Getting Caught
As with the Stainless Steel Rat, it’s not just not getting caught, it’s avoiding capture with panache. Skua has a big Robin Hood complex, and Dirge sometimes finds it hard to keep money in the bank. While he lives comfortably, his alter ego’s profligate charity makes it necessary to seek income more often than he’d like.
Getting Rid of Skua
As implied above, living with a space pirate in your head can be a bit of a detriment to an early, comfortable and secure retirement. While Dirge has developed something like affection for the construct, the fact remains that, like early AI, it is not sentient, merely capable of mimicking sentience. Therefore, it cannot truly learn or grow, and so remains immature and virtually feral. It has, sadly, outlived its usefulness, and Dirge knows he needs to be shed of it.
The Treemutes
Treemutes are a species of genetically engineered lifeforms that resemble trees the way Jame Arness resembled a carrot in The Thing From Another World. They are somewhat more willowy than The Thing – see what I did there? – but no less lethal and grumpy. They appear like a somewhat smaller and leafier Groot, with long, highly flexible willow whips sprouting from their upper bodies and backs. While these thorn-studded whips are fast and dangerous, the creatures cover ground with all the speed of a gouty Tree Ent, and so are relatively easy to evade in close encounters. Dirge incurred their racial enmity during a particularly risky raid on Old Folks ruins.
They are the Daleks of Dirge’s story.
Skua
Honestly, there are times when the Captain is a greater threat to Dirge than the Treemutes.
Ring Plaster
One of Dirge’s somewhat unique pieces of gear is his ring plaster, a large, somewhat gaudy-looking ring that is in fact a kind of plaster derringer. Like most plasters, it can stun, and seems to recharge itself from any ambient electromagnetic source – sunlight, radio emissions, heat, etc. However, it is difficult to aim at any distance, and gives no indication of it’s current charge. Dirge has estimated that, at any given time, he has 7-12 shots. It is an artifact of Old Folks tech, and no one really knows how it works.
Notes
The Elder Peoples
The Elder Peoples – or, in the vernacular, the Old Folks or Codgers – are the highly advanced races that have populated the galaxy on and off over billions of years. There were several epochs or waves of Old Folks, and the galaxy is littered with their cast off late-night infomercial appliances. Most are simply more sophisticated versions of “Whippersnapper” or Younger Peoples’ tech, performing relatively mundane functions in weird and amazing ways, like quantum laser pruning shears or personal force-field umbrellas. Occasionally something actually worthwhile surfaces, like a sentient, telepathic universal healing module, or an ultra-miniature power source. Sometimes, people stumble on an Old Folks’ weapon. Whole solar systems have been know to wink out of existence shortly after the announcement of such a discovery. Much more common, but still rare to the average citizen, are body-weapons like ring plasters and thumb lances.
Thumb Lances
Thumb lances are a type of Old Folks device that might be a tool or weapon. In general, it is a featureless metal cylinder approximately 2-3cm in diameter and 10-12cm long. It responds to the thoughts of the holder, and will extend a needle or lance of indestructible metal using molecular nanoextrusion, the length of the lance conforming to the holder’s thoughts, but rarely exceeding two meters. Given enough force, the lance can theoretically pierce any substance known to the Younger Folks, but such requirements limit its use by average humanoids. The negligible weight of the “miracle metal” makes it nearly useless as a club, so the debate continues as to its original purpose. It could be a dueling weapon, a fruit skewer or a tool for spearing trash on the ground.
The term thumb lance refers to the impression of the lance springing from the thumb when held by a standard humanoid.
“Let me get this straight,” Lyman Orm said, with a perplexed smile.
“You’re first name,” he nodded in the direction of the thin, humorless-looking man with the Van Dyke, “Is Atticus?”
When that worthy nodded in confirmation, he turned to the stout, tough looking fellow to Atticus’ left. “And your last name is Finch?”
“Yessir,” Finch said, with a sour, “oh boy, here we go again” expression.
Atticus, who looked a bit as if he’d fallen out of a steampunk anime, cleared his throat, and stretched his lips in the wince that, for him, passed for a smile.
“I assure you,” Bane said in the voice of a professor ordering a bagel in the cafeteria. “Birdie and I…”
“Birdie?” Orm’s eyes widened with shear incredulity. “Birdie Finch? Oh, c’mon – who’s putting you two up to this?”
Now it was Finch’s turn to clear his throat. “I’m afraid so, sir,” he said, “My Christian name is Bertram, so it was rather inevitable, given the ways of small children and upperclassmen worldwide.”
His face the very definition of “gobsmacked”, Orm sat back, shaking his head in bemusement.
“I’ve already had breakfast,” he said. “But I suppose I can add one more impossible thing. So… What can I do for you gentlemen?”
Bane leaned forward with the air of an undertaker preparing to knot a client’s tie.
“It’s about a distant ancestor of yours, Dr. Orm…”
(This story is not a riff on Trucks/Maximum Overdrive, but rather on the 1974 TV movie Killdozer! which was itself based on a 1944 Theodore Sturgeon short story of the same name.)
This is a sequel to The Cooler Out of Space, in which the last fragment of the Entity contained in the cooler temporarily escapes Bane and Finch, following the Miskatonic upstream until it arrives in Dunwich.
There, it possesses and animates an abandoned field harrow, and literally cuts a bloody swath across the Upper Miskatonic Valley, until it is cornered and destroyed by the investigators.
Not exactly a cooler, but rather a cryogenic container for exotic biological specimens. It plummets to Earth when a returning corporate Mars probe breaks up just outside the atmosphere.
It impacts in the Miskatoic Valley, and the entity that emerges is both alien and eldritch. Mythos mischief ensues.
Atticus Bane and his trusty sidekick Finch come to the rescue.
This title is excerpted from The Dunwich Horror, which itself excerpted it from the Necromonicon.
At Miskatonic, there is yet another semi-secret society composed of faculty, students and alumni. They are an eclectic group, but one thing they all have in common is that each has undertaken an arduous pilgrimage even unto Kadath, in the Cold Waste, there to learn forgotten secrets of mental and spiritual discipline and fortitude. They have all endured the cruel tutelage of ancient and inscrutable beings; tutelage that often threatened to break mind, body and soul.
They do this because they are tasked with detecting, containing and eradicating manifestations of The King in Yellow. Not the entity, the Thing behind the Pallid Mask, but the actual cursed manuscript, which has metastasized into every other medium now available: ebooks, audiobooks, videos, TV specials, as well as the constant underground – often literally – performances of the play.
But every once in a while, despite their arcane training and discipline, one of their number succumbs; the consequences are always disastrous…
