#gygaxian democracy

[zedecksiew]

d100 Adventure Beginnings

Feeling anxious, indoors because of the Covid-19 quarantine, I adapted an idea from Khairani Barokka and asked Twitter to give me emojis.

I’d turn these emoji into oddities, instigations, opening to adventure.

Guess I wanted to travel? In my head, far afield. It took the weekend, but it made me happy. There were many, many typos, but I visited a hundred different microcosms, with a hundred different persons.

Original thread begins HERE; tweets in the thread were tagged / attributed.

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d100 ADVENTURE BEGINNINGS

1. 🥐 The sandwich comes to you via delivery. You unwrap the foil as the quadrotor buzzes away. There's something in your sandwich, between tempe patties -an oil-stained slip of card. "Come alone," it says. There is a street address. ~

2. [Photograph of a vine tendril] Watering the garden, you see your morning glory stir.

Its tendrils uncoil. Its vines unclench, recede. Knot in on themselves, twine into thin limbs.

They let go of your fence. They have a face. Flower eyes: two purple trumpet blossoms. They offer a hand to shake.

~

3. [Italian flag] Morning ritual: put coffee on, wash face, check phone. Twitter takes a half-hour.

You smell burning. Coffee! Your moka pot is now sooty, long past hissing. A man stands next to it, made of steam.

"Salve," the steam ghost says, tipping his steam cap.

~

4.  🕯️ A warm night. The air is still. The candle flickers in your partner's face. She is checking her wallet. Slips it in her pocket as the candle dies.

"Ah!" she says, in darkness. "So over this power cut."

Time to get more candles.

~

5.  🔧 This is a *great* spot to get a flat: Lonely road, no streetlights, trees knitting their branches overhead. You shiver. You hate that you shiver. You're an adult. You make noise to assert this. The jack clunks on the ground. "Darling?" somebody whispers.

~

6. 🦚 "Make way for Lady Lerna!" cries the page, swinging his censer. Behind him a dozen men bear a gilded litter.

Laughter. Ringed fingers part the curtains. A powdered dowager wearing a cartwheel ruff of peacock eyes peers out. She holds her nose.

You hate her.

~

7. 🐷 Suckling pig. Its split-jaw-ed head faces you. You have never been more aware of an animal corpse.

Goldteeth Liu sips his cognac and asks: "Hey boy, why you not eating? My food not good enough for you is it?

"You feel sweat on your chest, where the wire is.

~

8. 👻 An ordinary corridor. Sconces, faded wallpaper, a painting.

"Behind the painting," a voice says.

A button behind the painting. Press it. The wall goes click. A crack appears.

"Now can I go?"

You unspool your spell, and the spirit leaves for her afterlife.

~

9. 🎲 The dice land. "Nine! Woo!" She moves her token, counting every space with a smack.

"What's with you?" they ask her.

"What you mean?" she giggles. She never did know how to play it cool. But she doesn't have to. Under the table, she puts her feet in your lap.

~

10. 🦷 When you took this assignment, they gave you two false molars:

The one in your right cheek is a transmitter -- a signal for Ops to start the evacuation; The one in your left is a cyanide pill, in case of capture.

Or was it the other way around?

Shit.

~

11. 🐉 From heaven a serpentine form, golden and gleaming. Growling like thunder ground out of the earth.

Descending, approaching --

But getting no bigger? Is it shrinking?

It is in front of you, now. It is as big as your forearm -- no, your finger.

"Bite me," it squeaks.

~

12. 🍞 The curfew has gone on for months. You have survived through food shortages, power cuts, rumours of civil unrest.

But now you are in trouble. Now, you enter your second trimester. Now, you crave.

Gardenia white bread.

You will brave cordons to get it.

~

13. 🧎‍♀️ You are hurrying to your car when somebody calls: "Girl? Girl!"

The voice comes from a red altar under a tree, past the kerb. From a songkok-ed uncle, as tall as your calves.

"Got food ah girl?" the roadside god says. "Two weeks already uncle hasn't eaten."

~ 

14. 👀 Someone has been pasting googly eyes on your stuff:

Your mailbox in the lobby; The telephone pole in front of your parking spot; The flower pot on the balcony.

Creepy. "It's not me!" your housemate says.

This morning, you find googly eyes on your forehead.

~

15. 🔐 The padlock on your front door is broken.

The door swings open onto an empty living room. On the floor: rectangles of dust, where your shelves and cabinets once stood.

As well as a shred of newsprint. "Take this, Mat!" it says.

Your name's not Mat.

~ 

16. 🎟️ Pa played the lottery on his birthday. Always with the same numbers: 1406, 2902. Ma's birthday. Yours.

Pa died last week. Yesterday was his birthday. You bought his numbers from the ticket counter.

Today you check the results: "First jackpot: 1406 2902."

~

17. 🦖 Dusting Dr Khoo's shelves, you accidentally knock over a novelty Tyrannosaurus piggy bank.

It shatters on the parquet floor.

There are ceramic shards, change -- and a passport with Dr Khoo's photo. Under a different name. In Cyrillic script.

Uh oh. 

~

18. 🍳 Eggs in your cast-iron pan -- the last three eggs you have.

Ina: "What are we going to do for protein, now?"

Gan: "We can search the shophouses in town. Or hope to catch a lizard?"

Ina makes a face. You shrug. With your cast-iron pan, you can cook anything.

~

19. 👻 Knock before you enter a hotel room for the first time. Say: "I'm coming in, okay?" Let its other occupants vacate.

But:You bustled in, dropped the card in its holder, threw your suitcase in the closet, dumped yourself on the bed.

So, now:

Don't look up. 

~

20. 🙆‍♀️ From you balcony, you watch your neighbour in the community playground. She is a dancer. She plays music on portable speakers. She practices pirouettes.

You wish you could work up the courage to talk to her.

She looks up, sees you watching, and waves.

~

21. 🗝️ "The key will open any lock," the goblin said.

The key feels heavy in your hand. Plain and iron. But when you bring it near the queen's jewellery box it shifts: turns silver and intricate.

A skeleton key!

"The key only works once," the goblin said.

~

22. 🎥 You don't like the protesters. So naive. And look at how they've spray-painted the street! Anarchists.

The cops charge with riot shields. They are beating protesters --

What are you doing?

You are recording this on your phone.

A cop points his baton at you.

~

23. 🥳 On your birthday you are surprised at the door. Balloons, food, music to dance to. A party! Laughing, you thank you friends.

"Thank Brian!"

"Brian?" you ask.

"Your cousin Brian?" they say. They point. He smiles and waves back. You don't recognise him.

~

24. 🤦‍♀️ Your headache gets worse. On day three your vision blurs; you collapse in your bathroom.

You wake to familiar voice: "Hey."

It is your voice. "Don't panic," your doppelganger says. "You're okay." She dried you off, put you in bed. She will not harm you.

~

25. 🍳 You tried to steal from the Pasha. He is magnanimous, and decided not to behead you. Instead, you will serve him.

You will journey into the wastes. You will brave the fire. You will acquire the Phoenix's egg. The Pasha is a gourmand. He wishes to eat it.

~ 

26. 🐙 "Finding the Perihelion Squid is not a problem," your captain says. "It glows in the water."

Sunset. A ray catches your captain's arm and belly, throwing the sucker-shaped burn marks there into textured relief.

"The problem is fighting it," your captain says.

~

27. ��� You stop at the lights. You look at your phone.

Somebody bonks your side-view mirror. "Oi!" you say -- but more people are rushing past. The drivers of the cars in front of you. What are they running from?

Across the intersection, a stampede of water buffalo.

~

28. ™️ "Breath Easy," the billboard says. A beach panorama, with a white family in the foreground: father, mother, daughter -- all three in pastel shirts. Eyes shut, chins up, smiling.

"VitaOX, premium bottled air," the billboard says. "A Sinochem-McDonald's company."

~

29. 🦥 The Colossal Ground Sloth is a geographic enormity.

See that hill, blocking our view of the rising sun? That's not a hill. That's a sloth. It sits, seemingly smiling, covered in trees. When it shudders the birds take flight.

Look: it opens its lake-like eyes.

~

30. 🗽 When the Statue vanishes, America freaks. Who's to blame? Terrorists? SJWs?

Then it turns out the Statue is also missing from all visual media: T-shirts, postcards, patriotic paraphernalia.

The White House settles on its favourite scapegoat -- China.

~

31. 🧩 The map to the Treasure of Sagely Fu is borne on the back of the Divine Tortoise:

Its scutes represent the 38 provinces of the Empire. Its coloration represents the hills and valleys. When Sagely Fu fought the Tortoise, he kicked a chip-mark into its shell.

~

32. 💙 The Heart Of Ice is a crystalline fortress, so high above the sea that the sky is twilight and the air freezes you solid.

There rules the Queen, a goddess of pure and alien elements. If you can make Her shed a tear she will grant you your heart's desire.

~

33. 🌼 The pontianak is a monster -- born when a pregnant woman dies, wronged.

Seeking vengeance, she hunts men. She takes the form of a comely woman. One of her signs is the fragrance of frangipani blossoms.

"Hey," says the bar hostess. She smells of night flowers.

~

34. 🦊 "My foxies," the witch says. "My vulpies."

In her hut are bones, bones, bones. Piled in a bucket. Mounted on display stands. Sniffing your ankle -- fox skeletons, moving as they did in life.

"Can you do cats?" you ask, nodding to the bundle in your arms.

~

35. 🥾 The search parties assemble quietly. A trekker is lost on the mountain. Nobody is happy.

"I told him," one of the guides whisper. "I told him. Don't take anything, I said. You don't know whose things you're taking. But I saw him slip a stone into his pocket."

~ 

36. 🐬 The pool is still. Park management turns this fountain off at 10pm.

You like walking here, at night. You like the granite dolphins, mid-jump, frozen in time. You toss a coin into the fountain for luck. Clink.

There is a splash. A flash of motion. A fin.

~ 

37. 📚 In the book you find a letter, in delicate cursive:

"Dear Emily, Bought this book for your birthday. Which is also Valentine's Day. I will never be able to tell you that I love you. So I will never give this book to you. Sara."

Sara is your mother's name.

~

38. 🌲 A postcard of evergreens. A landscape you've only seen in photos.

You stash it in a notebook, stuff that in your bag.

"Over here," Michelle says. She grins, shimmies out of a space between leaning shelves. A box of double-A batteries. Meaning: jackpot.

~

39. 🥡 You bike to the pick-up.

It's a commissary in the middle of an industrial park. The guy at the counter says nothing. Just looks you up and down. He licks his lips.

"What's in this?" you ask, pointing at the takeaway pack.

"Meat," he says. He licks his lips.

~

40. 🎏 The airships of Vo Langka are fish-shaped.

Carp and arowana are most common -- but advances in aeronautics have made wing-form (ie: stingray-like) aircraft possible.

You are a pilot. Today you will test the first ever flying machine made in imitation of a bird.

~

41. 🐗 The boar charges your golf cart. The caddy veers onto the green.

Gunshots!

Your bodyguards down the beast. It came from the forest behind the golf course -- the one you've earmarked for clearing.

It's not the only forest creature that wants to murder you. 

~

42. ♻️ Your body slides into the furnace.

Your husband will pick through the ash and bones. Tomorrow he'll take a boat, sail a kilometre out, empty your urn in the sea.

The day after, silver pomfrets will school in a person's shape, and you will see the ocean.

~

43. ✨ It's a clear night. "Honey?" you call. "Come see!"

She whines -- you are tearing her from her work, she says. You insist. You point up.

Orion and the Dipper, the soft shine of the sickle moon.

"Wanna go for a walk?" you ask. She slips her arm into yours.

~

44. ✒️ The auto-pen you own is old. Picks up too much background chatter. The newer pens have noise-cancelling wards.

See? You've stopped dictating, but the pen is still writing:

"NO AH NO IT MOTHER PLEASE IT HURTS MAKE IT STOP"

Hell's not a good muse.

~ 

45. 🌌 The transitcraft trembles as it descends on its pillar of plasma.

"Sorry you didn't make it," the pilot says. "Cosmofleet is not for everyone." He's trying to be kind. This does not help.

He leaves you on the pad. Here you are, with packed bags, back home.

~

46. 🤫 The librarian drags you under the counter, pale with terror.

You hear the tread of the logovore. The meaning-eater. Books impaled on its spines -- leeched of their ink, their substance, going see-through, disappearing.

It does that to humans, too.

~

47. 🍥 You spit the fish cake out. From surprise, really. Because it is candy.

A confection of flour, sugar, pink food colouring, floating next to beef slices, on the oily surface of the noodles you ordered.

The kitchen makes you a new bowl. The chef is baffled.

~

48. 🛰️ Satellites no longer obey us.

Meteorology reverts to fortune-telling. Intelligence becomes earth-bound. Defense satellites play games of laser tag.

Broadcasting ends -- well, not really. When you turn on your TV it tells you: CALL YOUR MOTHER SHE MISSES YOU.

~

49. 🌿 Where you buried your cat, something is already growing:

A fresh stem of basil, putting out its mild scent; its green, convex leaves.You pluck a leaf, put it in your mouth. Your cat jumps into your lap. You feel her scrape your finger with her tongue. 

~

50. 🐸 The Weed Toad sprouts spiky fur filled with chlorophyll. Basically: it's a frog with grass on its back. It can be a pest.

When you step into your garden something squeaks.The toad jumps away, incensed. Its siblings hop off, too. Your whole lawn, leaving you. 

~

51. 👾 Pixel Goblins are voxeloids, walking about in waking life. Refugees from a reality whose servers shut down two years ago.

They eat electricity. They line the sidewalk. "Hungry," the Pixel Goblin says. She looks at your phone, hopeful.

You have 11% battery left. 

~

52. ✴️ "I am chaos!" the boy shrieks. "A conduit of magick!"

You can hear that hard "k" from here. Baldie in an Invisibles tee and factory-distressed jeans, thinks he knows magic? Please.

Then he pisses on your headstone. Which is rude. So you possess him.

~

53. 👣 Footprints, made with oil. They cut across the driveway, onto the grass, leaving rainbow sludge on some clovers. They turn the corner of your house.

You turn the corner, too.

In front of you, the prints have stopped, side by side. Their toes now face you.

~

54. 🐷 In the middle of his emergency pandemic address, during a live broadcast, on national television --

The Prime Minister oinks.

He blinks. Clears his throat, looks at the teleprompter -- and oink-oink-oinks.

The PM's eyes blink tears. Then the broadcast cuts out. 

~

55. 🌙 Can we trust the moon?

See its phases -- the way it goes from a bright circle, wanes into a crescent, shuts completely, then opens again, waxing half into full --

Like a creature blinking: slowly, ever so slowly.

The moon has not looked directly at us. Yet. 

~

56. 🌺 You tuck a hibiscus in her hair. "It's pretty!" you say, before she reacts. "Plus it's patriotic."

She rolls her eyes.

Day after the party she wants to meet you. That makes you happy. She's not happy. The flower's driven a root into flesh, behind her ear.

~

57. 🍜 This bowl of noodles, made from soup powder, desiccated ramen, the last remaining tomato in the fridge, one overcooked egg -- 

It's the most delicious thing you've ever tasted.

This shouldn't be possible. You cry. You'll never have anything this good again.

~

58. 🥦 "This," Mother says. "This needs to be half-size."

You know this moment. The kitchen was never your thing. You made an excuse and left to play videogames in your room. Two days later Mother died. Car accident.

This time you stay. You cut the floret in two. 

~

59. 🌵 The Blood Prickle's blossom is prized by cities that border the Pebble Sea. Dried, smoked, its fume delivers accurate prophecies.

The Blood Prickle only blossoms when watered by the viscera of living creatures. You lead your herd of sheep into the desert.

~

60. 🕸️ The bungalow is covered in gossamer, like a suitcase shrink-wrapped at the airport. Shreds stick to you, glue.

"Go away!" the bungalow's owner says. You see her eight eyes peer at you from a window.

"Babe, please," you say.

"Stop stalking me!" she shouts. 

~

61. 🐼 The ghost bear waddles across the plaza and through a wall.

They felled a forest to build this strip mall. But they did not exorcise its ghost. Ghost vines hang from the ceiling. Ghost trees fill changing rooms. In the car park a ghost brook babbles, incoherently.

~

62. 🕯️ You blow out the candle. "Happy birthday!"

Your friends have grey hair. Others dance to Kelly's playlist. Something in your brain snaps -- you do not know how old you are.

There is only one candle on the cake. It tells you: you are however old you want to be. 

~

63. 🍥 At the bottom of an empty paint bucket in your backyard shed, you discover a giant millipede, dark red, curled into a spiral.

You name her Millie. Obviously.

You boyfriend is disgusted. Slightly jealous of the attention you allot her. He was always insecure.

~

64. 🍡 The city is a shadow. Office towers in shards. Hypermalls with their skybridges broken. Collapsed nightclubs.

In the midst of all this, on an overgrown street, incongruously -- the smell of boiling soup. Fry-oil. Fish balls. A lok lok truck, greasy and pristine.

~

65. ✨ The light in her eyes die when you tell her to leave.

You lose your job at the production house. Once again, you are a freelancer. Interviewers pooh-pooh your portfolio.

You will learn how to draw again. Your muse was a crutch. You must do this on your own.

~

66. 🔮 Everything is as kitschy as you expect. Fake-velvet curtains and tablecloth. A set of tarot cards from Etsy. Even a crystal ball!

But when the fortune-teller looks up and sees you, she says: "No no, out."

What?

"You. No. Get out," she says, afraid. 

~

67. 🥵 Ten laps in the pool. Then you pant to the sauna.

Stones sizzle as you open the door. Somebody is here, already. You take the opposite bench. He has an athlete's thighs. Sweat on his obliques make them look oiled.

He looks you up and down. Smirks. Judges.

~

68. 🗨️ In the kitchen Khan grunts. Khan being Khan, you think.

Sylvia comes in. She makes an oinking sound.

He grunts. She oinks again. Hoot-hoot. He hisses in reply. It appears to be a conversation.

Sylvia sees you staring. Waves a hand in your face, asks: "Moo?" 

~

69. 👹 "They are going to hate me," she says, frowning around her tusks."

They are going to love you," you say.

In her nervousness she walks up to the microphone, no intro, just launches right into it. Her poem is electric. She is electric. And she is yours.

~

70. ⚛️ Guards, gyrocopter patrols -- Coilhaus Atomworks’s compound is well-protected. Which is as you expected.

You didn't expect the hex-wards in the inner compound. When you set foot on the manager's balcony, the teak floor shrieks: INTRUDER INTRUDER INTRUDER HERE! 

~

71. 🌂 The Bum Under The Overpass jumps out. You yelp.

"Flee, peasant!" he growls. He reeks. He has a bin lid for a buckler, a brolly for a sword. "I shall shield ye against yon creature!"

You peer into the dark under the overpass -- and notice the hulking shadow there.

~

72. 💀 The captain wears a cutesy plastic skull on a silver chain. You don't think it fits with her camo grease, her fatigues.

"My daughter made this," she says.

You nod. You miss your son, too. All this -- the pay you earn, burning villages -- you do for your children. 

~

73. 🦧 "Orangutan Kong". Some sort of gangster moniker?

No. Kong is actually an orangutan. He escaped from the Zoo, and started working in Goldtooth Tat's crew. As comic relief. Everybody who laughed at him is dead now.

If you want to work for him you should know. 

~

74. 🧠 The robot ploughs through Market Street. Tiles scatter like confetti; cars are stomped flat. Pressure in your ears -- a thunder clap! The police van up the road explodes.

"There!" your partner shouts, pointing. A brain in a glowing jar, in the robot's belly. 

~

75. 💈 You grew up here.The broom, the hair -- the chairs, Naugahyde over industrial frames. The mirrors, angled slightly, either side leading into infinity. The sink where Uncle Kuppu rinsed his razors and shaving brush.

Uncle Kuppu's gone. This place is yours, now. 

~

76. ⚗️ The alchemist stumbles backwards, knocks over a beaker.

"My formula," he whispers. "You're an assassin from the Bankers’ Guild? You can't have me turning lead to gold."

You shake your head. "No. I work with the Silversmiths' Guild. I'm here to protect you." 

~

77. 🔭 It is the fourth victim he has brought home.

They are always young, with tattoos. He restrains them, strangles them by the neck on the floor of his bathroom.

You watch, through your telescope. You should report him. But you like to watch them struggle. 

~

78. ⛩️ The way to Grand Andropolis is lined with 417 red gates -- each one for a glorious victory the Imperial Legions have won over lesser races.

Gate 412 marks the time they slaughtered your parents. You touch it, and swear quietly: you will burn Grand Andropolis. 

~

79. 🌻 The men at the big table drink beer, munch kuaci, laugh.

A woman with sunglasses arrives. The restaurant people tell her: "Kitchen closed already. Drinks?"

Just kuaci, she says.

She watches the men. When she bites the seeds open, you see long canines.

~

80. 🤖 You've never considered yourself technosexual. You thought robots cold. Then you met MARY-K8.

Her bright crystal optic sensors. Her omni-articulated limbs. Her way with words:

"HEY HUMAN USER," she synthesises. "HEART-UNIT NOT FOUND. PERHAPS YOU HAVE IT?"

~ 

81. 🦖 "The job is a museum," your master sighs. "Museum's are the worst."

You ask him why.

"We are exorcists, dumb-dumb! You know how many things the damn spirit can hide in? Can throw at us?"

When you master sees the T-rex skeleton in the atrium, he sighs again. 

~

82. 🎍 Treaties signed between the Yun Empress and the Princes of Elemental Wood have resulted in the Type-4 Rhizomic Footsoldier --

A stiff, lanky construct; needing only sun and soil; grown in vast groves; with souls of bamboo and therefore without mercy ...

~

83. 🧜‍♀️ Each year, the mer send an emissary to bargain with the dry world.

The tide swells, then withdraws just as quick, leaving a carriage of driftwood and flowering coral --

"Dammit!" a voice says. Rattling, from within. "Door's stuck!" A sigh. "Some help, please?" 

~

84. 🧠 "You're always going on about life hacks. So here," Mark says.

His gift is a book. "Telekinesis In 100 Days", its title says.

Mark smirks. "Enjoy!"

You'll show the bastard! It's just day 13. Already you can toss 50-cent coins with a lift of your eyebrow. 

~

85. 📯 The footmen blow their horns. The herald crows: "The Tyrant and Lady van Sur!"

They descend the stairs. The man frail, tubes stuck up his nose; the woman in silk, her wig so heavy it is held up by grav-suspensors --

One push of your remote, and the suspensors fail.

~

86. 🥶 You jolt awake. Ice is pressed to your ankle -- no, chilled skin. A toenail. Feet.

"Jesus. Your feet."

His apology is a snorted murmur. He curls further, pressing into the heat of your belly. His hair tussled, smelling of lavender.

What's his name? Can you remember?

~

87. 🚪 The heavy door is shut. Padlocked. Your lock sprite shakes her head. "Mechanism's rusted solid."

Your spell-dwarf grumbles. "Lead brackets, see? Shock hex won't work."

"Lemme try," your slip-spirit squeaks. Flattens itself, slips under.

Doesn't came back. 

~

88. 🌵 The Saguaro Sea is a vast tangle of sole-cutting rock, thorny brush, towering cacti broad as hillforts.

Here is found the Weeping Roc -- whose cry is a woman wailing; who steals children to feed its blind, featherless chicks.Children like your six-year-old. 

~

89. 💃 Flamenco star Magritte Tanaka's talent is such that people say it is more than just grace and training.

They say she made a bargain. When she dances a devil helps her; plays her like a puppet on strings.

Truth is he forces her. She never wanted to dance.

~

90. 🎸 You stole the keytar of synth legend Razzak Luminem from the Museum of Sidereal Art last month.

Tonight you host its auction. Many have shown up: demon worshipers; glamrock stars; violist perverts; members of the Critics' Cartel -- troublemakers.

Watch yourself. 

~

91. 🙆‍♀️ To fear the sky falling is silly --

Except in Fading Dassho, whose most dilapidated districts sit twilit under an obsolete stellar shield, its support struts increasingly ancient and tottery. A shutter collapsed, just last week -- shattering six thousand souls. 

~

92. 🤖 We sent unmanned drones through the Hell-portal; we assumed exposure to Ultimate Evil would be bad for the human psyche.

All moot, it turned out. Because drones are robots -- and, you know, that cliche about robots turning bad, turning KILL ALL HUMANS?

Well. 

~

93. 🏚️ A manor-turned-hotel, on a cliff, with a history of homicide? TrueCrimeFest 2018's organisers could not resist.

Three days of signings, panels, cosplay -- and a podcaster found garroted in her room.

Horrible! Horrible. (But, really: Best. TrueCrimeFest. Ever.) 

~

94. 🤪 The Rictus Worm causes paralysis. Distorts the muscles of the face.

Your eyes pop, your tongue hangs lolling. You speak drool and sputters. You try the chirurgeon. He thinks you are fooling. Kicks you out.

The Rictus Worm is rare. You feel it in your nape.

~

95. 🌌 One by one the stars disappear. Without their light -- were they ever there?Constellations vanish, nebulae fade. The moon hangs alone in the night sky.

Only our sun and its huddling planets remain. An isolated, solipsistic, self-obsessed apocalypse. 

~

96. 🤗 She welcomes you with open arms. "Happy you're home, Ah Boy," she says, kissing you, Tears on her cheek transferring to yours.

She is your mother; she calls you Ah Boy. Return appropriate amounts of affection. Your mission depends on how well you fool this woman. 

~

97. 🅱️ The mark is made in red ink. The letter "B". Not so bad, outsiders might think --but yours is an euphemistic society.

This is the Competency Test, through which all citizens are streamed. An "A" means you get to stay above-ground. A "B" sends you Below. 

~

98. 🎡 Anna gets into the pod before you. The ferris wheel begins to turn.

Travelling carnivals! Holdovers from a previous world, now surmounted by app-stores. You don't get the appeal. It's not even ironic --

High up, in the pod, Anna kisses you.

Now you get it. 

~

99. ☄️ You still remember your wonder --

A bright blue star, trailing a bright line, bisecting the sky. Staring at it would spoil your eyes, they said.

In your cockpit, as the countdown begins, you think: now you will be a bright blue star. There will be a young girl on the ground, watching.

~ 

100. 🥑 When you halve the avocado you don't find a seed. You find a tiny baby.

It is curled up foetal. It is the colour of mahogany. It fusses slightly -- then starts into a full-blown caterwaul; big droplets of blood well from where your rough knifework has nicked it.

+++

[gilgalahad]

THE POSSESSIONS OF THE WAR-WITCH OF THE CRIMSON FOREST

1 - Tear Drops of the Chameleon - @Molvayaana - If only one is worn you may step silently for several minutes but worn together you blend in with your surroundings for an hour or you move into a different environment.

2a - Cosmolabe of Celaeno - @jrients - Only known device that allows for navigation on the Sea of Chaos.

8 - Neolithic Spear - @dreamsandfevers -  Remembers a much earlier time. Wounds it inflicts can only be healed via stone age methods, no magic or modern surgery can help. The spear wants: To hunt the biggest game. To discover how fire is made. And it hates to serve metal wearers.

10 - Dreamcatcher Shield - @Olobosk_ - If the wielder of this shield is attacked by a Ghost or other ethereal being, they become entangled and cannot move away from them. Any attempts to infiltrate the wielder's mind with psychic magic results in the caster being confused for a round.

Click the link to read the rest!

[dungeonspossums-blog]

Every so often on Twitter (where I hang out too much), I post up a doodle of items and encourage people to detail the various pieces of the drawing by picking a number and describing it. I finally got the bright idea of archiving one of these on my blog.

[zedecksiew]

d20 Places You Miss

This was done on Twitter. My initial ask was: 

“Another weekend under quarantine. This morning there were sirens, where I am.

I'd like to leave the house for a bit. Come with me?

Drop me an object-themed emoji? I'll write you a place you've seen before, and long to see again.”

Original thread begins HERE; with attributions.

+

d20 PLACES YOU MISS

1. ⛽️  At home, with your husband carrying your crying son; your mother on the phone, chattering --

You miss the rig.

It was no less of a pressure-cooker: sixty crew in a football field crammed with gear, crude, a gas flare.But there, on the deck -wind on an open sea.

~

2. 🔦 The light on your suit casts a wavering disc. Hadal amphipods and jellies drift into its beam, then dart away.

You waddle up a dead driveway. Shine your light through the windows of a ruined house. You once lived here. Squid and spiderfish live in it, now.

~

3. 🎠 Carousel Station comes into view as your ketch clears the asteroid.

You managed Carousel for years. Fought to keep it out of anarch hands. Then it was hit by pirates, and the Corp wrote it off.

You shake off your sentimentality, and give the order to fire.

~

4. ⚗️ Every night, the Queen drew you into her realm: a place of wonder and gossamer delights. The best nights of your life.

Then the Queen tired of you.

Now you spend your nights imbibing hallucinogenic poisons. You will return to Her parlour. Even if it kills you.

~

5. 🍑 He used handmade peach-and-peppermint soap. You stole a bar of it from his bathroom, the last day you spent together. You didn't ask where he got it from. You've scoured weekend flea markets, since. No luck. It shrinks. You ration it. You use it once a week.

~

6. 🏝️ The isle of Susile is alive. Its spirit shuffles the barrier reefs around; invading ships invariably run aground.

To land safely, bring:

A shaman, to sing; A pot of palm wine, to pour in the bay; A humble heart -- so you can kiss wet sand, and thank Susile.

~

7. 🧉 SongLine provides full-sensory holiday experiences, delivered to you via brain-jack.

The package you bought has made you wistful for the warmth of a horse, the taste of mate, and sunset on the Argentine plain.

You are also now loyal only to SongLine, Inc.

~

8. 💫 Walks with Lady Xiu on the boardwalk of Emerald Lake; That one night with Etienne in the Red Lantern District; A weekend arguing anarchist theory with Sarai in the shadow of the Brass Orrery --

This city is crowded with lovers. You are thinking of leaving.

~

9. 💃 In his antique shop, Mr Singh tilts the remains of a music box. Its gears are crumbling rust. Its porcelain ballerina is missing a leg.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Singh," he says, blinking back tears.

"It's okay," you want to say -- but the dead do not answer the living.

~

10. 🌋 The mountain exploded and Xinmen died. Its red walls, sprawling-maze piers; its dancing princes, weeping merchants; its rice farmers hunched under the mountain's shadow. The mountain exploded and Xinmen died. Its ghosts watch from ragged boats, in the bay.

~

11. 🍯 Far from all harbours, hopelessly lost -- Here the water begins to glow like golden honey. A woman rises. She wears a helm of ammonite shell, holds aloft a sword of sea-glass. St Celeste of the Sea, who points sailors home -- who you got lost just to see again.

~

12. 🏕️ A ghetto of tents, pitched in the national park. Drugs, drink, love, festival sex. Electroclash among the trees. Dancing bodies glimpsed in morning fog. You'd mis-spend such youth a second time -- but you cannot sleep in tents, anymore. Your back won't let you.

~

13. 🦖 Walking hunched, elbows to your tummy, V-signs on both hands to simulate Tyrannosaur forelimbs -- You bite your mother's thigh and draw blood. You aren't playing. You have a sauropod's soul. You remember the warm world, before. You remember the sky falling.

~

14. 🗝️ You lock the door; shutter the windows. You think you can still hear your students, chanting the Serrese alphabet over their chalk sheets:

"Na, ko, pa, go, no -- "

But the white invaders have banned Serrese. Only English may be spoken in their territories.

~

15. 🩰 You find your old shoes in a box on a high shelf. They are moth-bitten, and no longer fit.

You think of your teacher, fierce Mdm Gissaud; you think of sobbing into the conservatory mirror. You go to your toes, and lift a battement clear past your shoulder.

~

16. 🪔 They slaughtered the priests, snuffed out the Eternal Fire.

Holy Kilwa -- then but an altar boy -- stole a glowing coal, swallowed it, and escaped. Later he burst into flames. He gave his body so the Fire could burn, always.

We light these lamps for Holy Kilwa.

~

17. 🏷️ There are so many baggage tags on your drag-along, its handle no longer properly retracts.

You keep them as reminders. "Bali, Greece, Paris." You point to each one. "Precious memories!"

The counter lady rips them off, one by one. "Travel hazard," she says.

~

18. 🧲 Strange how, even though you and Sylvia lost touch for a decade -- Something let you to end up in the same city, at the same flea market, on the same day, in front of the same display of novelty fridge magnets -- Strange how the heart follows its lodestone.

~

19. 🎟️ Your wallet is a wad of paper receipts in a raggedy shred of leather.

"Time to throw it away?" Sylvia says.

Your first date, you and Sylvia went to a play. Beckett's “Happy Days”, at the Storeroom Theatre. You find the stubs sandwiched between parking slips.

~

20. ☕️ Too cold to shiver, with your dogs dead and the blinding wind howling, with your last biscuit eaten and your last battery drained -- You drag your sled onward, and think of the coffee in the Knudsen Station mess: Bitter, with no milk -- and hot, hot, hot.

+++

( Image source: https://iluminasi.com/bm/sejarah-taman-rekreasi-mimaland-dan-sebab-mengapa-ia-ditutup.html  It’s a photo of Mimaland, a Malaysian amusement park that folks who grew up in the 1980s remember. Now it is swallowed by forest. )

[zedecksiew]

DIY D&D, October 2018

Google Plus, where I found all my best nerd-friends, is closing down. It was where I found the DIY D&D / Old School Renaissance community. This community:

Gave me my best roleplaying game experiences; Gave me the confidence to start writing RPG material; Taught me a lot about building a functional community. 

I’ve gotten paychecks from people in DIY D&D. I’ve gotten postcards. In this day of social-media instant connectivity? Postcards. In my mailbox. With actual ink, and a stamp.

+

Google may be killing G+, but DIY D&D isn’t going away.

The OSR started as a network of blogs. Here’s a list. (Here it is as a thingy you can plug into your RSS reader.)

People are moving en masse to different platforms. Here’s a massive Discord server. Here’s a cool forum. Here’s a nice MeWe group.

+

Zak S has a questionnaire up for DIY D&D types. I’m answering because it’ll brew a snapshot of the scene + myself, as part of the scene.

OSR Guide For The Perplexed Questionnaire 

1. One article or blog entry that exemplifies the best of the Old School Renaissance for me:

“... after a run-in with some "filthy dwarf-types" (kobolds from the wandering monster list) Max lopped off a monster-leg and stuck it in his backpack. At the time, I thought he was just being weird. But later he very effectively distracted some white apes by throwing the grisly limb among them. The apes were much more willing to brawl among themselves over a quick snack rather than fight people bearing torches and swords. Max wasn't content to let his brief character sheet dictate what he could and couldn't do. He went out there and grabbed that dungeon by the collar and gave it a good shaking. And here's the kicker: Max is twelve years old and today was his first time playing D&D!”

All Hail Max, Jeff Rients. Pretty basic stuff, at this point. Still pretty fucking baller.

2. My favorite piece of OSR wisdom/advice/snark:

“The thing I really really dislike about how people use terms like problematic and "interrogate"  "critical awareness" etc is they rarely (if ever) provide a framework to objectively measure harm or benefit. So if you say "classic adventures are problematic because it's kinda like a Victorian narrative about invading people and taking their stuff" that's your subjective opinion , which then , when one publishes or writes something extremely similar, you can turn around and declare you have "critical awareness"  , and therefore not problematic. Which is utterly perfect for performing wokeness for marketing purposes while never actually doing anything different, e.g Evil Hat's whole business model Compare this to saying to pointing out something which can be used to hold ones on behaviour to a standard: "There are very little women artists in rpgs", "there needs to be more takes on colonialism other than one favourable to the invader" "freelance writers don't get paid a living wage" Then , you yourself can demonstrate that you are actually committed to your wokeness by doing something you can be held accountable for. Because you actually pay people, hire people and publish people in ways that benefit the people whose struggle you are using for marketing purposes.”

Scrap Princess, from this excellent G+ thread. Saying stuff that needs to be said about woke white indie RPG creators who’ve made a career handwringing about how games might be sexist / racist / colonialist / queer-phobic / etc -- 

But who never quite get around to hiring or paying non-white people / queer people.

(PS: the OSR does. Zak’s paid me. Hydra Cooperative is publishing something I wrote.)

3. Best OSR module/supplement:

“Veins of the Earth”. That blackest brick of a book. I love it most.

4. My favorite house rule (by someone else):

I like usage die! “Torches (d6)” means you roll d6 after every turn that torch is used? 1-2, it drops a die size. 1-2 on a d4 means it’s gone. From The Black Hack, I think?

5. How I found out about the OSR:

Back-of-the-book blurbs, for real. Le Guin, who blurbed China Mieville, who blurbed Scrap & Patrick’s “Fire on the Velvet Horizon”. 

6. My favorite OSR online resource/toy:

Not really a utility, more a personal thing. The Lavender Marshes. Filling in a few of its hexes was my first taste of Gygaxian Democracy. Thank you, Ramanan S.

Otherwise, Links to Wisdom.

7. Best place to talk to other OSR gamers:

It is still G+, right this very moment ... 

8. Other places I might be found hanging out talking games:

Feel free to add me, at these places:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/zedeck.siew Twitter: https://twitter.com/zedecksiew Discord: zedeck.siew#4237  MeWe: mewe.com/i/zedeck.siew

And these forums, I guess?

(I really want to do comments on this blog, too. But Tumblr makes it fiddly.)

9. My awesome, pithy OSR take nobody appreciates enough:

“Play your character, not the screenwriter writing your character.”

Because I hate hate HATE games trying to get into Creative Writing 101 rules-of-good-narrative nonsense.

10. My favorite non-OSR RPG:

Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, because I have a strange inexplicable love for Warhammer.

11. Why I like OSR stuff:

Nowhere else in roleplaying games do you get writing this fecund, this poetic, this muscular, this good. Serious: I’m in with the DIY D&D crowd because of the writing.

12. Two other cool OSR things you should know about that I haven’t named yet:

Khairul Hisham is a old-school Star Wars nerd who’s written about Malay-language references in Star Wars; Dirk Detweiler Leichty should get gallery shows:

13. If I could read but one other RPG blog but my own it would be:

Patrick Stuart still has my heart.

14. A game thing I made that I like quite a lot is:

How to kill a god, and then turn it into a mine.

15. I'm currently running/playing:

Patrick’s running Yoon-Suin using Johnstone Metzger’s “The Nightmares Underneath”; Camilla Greer’s running Luka Rejec’s Ultraviolet Grasslands with The Black Hack 2E.

16. I don't care whether you use ascending or descending AC because:

Honestly I wasn’t around for this particular nerd bush-war, so I haven’t the faintest what’s ascending vs descending AC is even about???

17. The OSRest picture I could post on short notice: 

Is at the top of this post. (Source)

The roundabout ingenuity required to turn the arse of a demon entity from mad alter realities into something as mundane as a cannon is totes OSR.