Dimension of White Castles & Black Forests

This world has no color. Everything you see is black, white, or a shade of gray. This is the people and the places. The people here know what color is; they can see it, though they can't easily describe it. The animals react very strongly to color- sneaking is almost impossible for any being not monochrome, or at least dressed in very muted tones- even the soft pinks and browns of human flesh is like a ultra-saturated glowing neon to the beings so used to the colorless expanse.

The sky is always overcast during the day, though at night it gets very black. Shadows are long. The clouds and mists are white. This land is an endless array of forests and hills, mountains which can be climbed and over it; yet another forest and more hills.

To enter this world requires magic, or to find a time and place in your world where the sky and earth are so gray, so washed out and the fog is so thick there appears to be no separation of any. If you walk on without thought of where you are going, you will arrive here on a 1 in 6 chance. Getting back is much more difficult.

Everything here grows like a plant- including the people. The only civilization in this place are the great walled fortresses, which grow from small stone huts or single standing towers, mushroom out, and grow organically to fit new spinnerets and chambers over hundreds of years. The residents of these fortresses bud from them spontaneously; also growing the same way. They begin as tiny gnomes or pixies; a librarian as big as your thumb in the newly grown library ward, born into their job and position- no childhood or marriages make these people who they are, they just are as they were made. Eventually, they grow to a near human size, but will always be distinct from their black and white features and alien personas. Near the end of their lives, the people grow huge and gnarled like an old tree; a giant philosopher-king sitting on his throne, knees taking up most of the space in the great hall. The woodsman on the hunt for the big bad wolf, white bearded, his head peaking over the endless pine. Eventually, when they die, they will fuse back into the earth, once again returned to the cycle of the Strange and Eternal.

The White Woads
These are the tended, game-filled wood around the castles. They are their own simple ecosystem- all white deer and all black wolves, little gray riding hood walks through the trees to pick flowers while a big gray wolfman watches from the bushes. All white fish promise you knowledge if you put them back when you hook them out of a river filled with black stones.

Occasionally, the nobles and huntsmen of the white castles go out into these woods. They hunt gray foxes that dart through the underbrush under the snapping jowls of dogs- every color of the monochrome rainbow. Whenever you explore these lands, you are bound to run into somebody or something mildly friendly, but unmovable from their task. These places are mostly safe; perhaps even safer then inside the organic walls of the great growing castle.

The weather switches between bright summer day (white) and stormy (gray)- to finally night (very black). There are no seasons, though the people of this realm will babble on about how its a good season for their crops- when there are no seasons and there are no crops. "Everyone knows the fisher boy goes by the river during a nice summer's day!" meanwhile, everyone is still wearing their cloaks and coats.

The people here only live in stone places; and only stone places are civilization. If you were to chop down some trees and build a house, they wouldn't recognize it. They would think of it is a very strange tree. Even the witch on the outskirts of the castles who knows spells and lures children to be eaten still lives in a little stone house.

All the animals here can talk. Farm animals tell rumors, birds curse you if you disturb their nests, and wolves will let you go if you give them something bright red- inherently attracted to the color of blood despite the blood of everything here being a slick silver. The most dangerous are probably the wolves. Occasionally, you might find a stone bridge that gives birth to a big troll who demands payment to cross; but he's pretty easy to trick.

Gray Witch (3+2 HD, +1 AC, 1d4+1 gnarled cane, casts Spells)
Morale- 8
Numbers- One or Two (Sisters)

Magical old woman. Relatively friendly, but primarily eats children to survive. Will settle for a gnome or halfling- even a dwarf if its a lean season. She'll invite you into her home if you have a positive or neutral reaction check- and there will be a 1 in 3 chance she's got a kid in a cage waiting to be tonight's supper. Any implication that you disagree with this or will try to free the child and the spells will start flying. It's nothing personal, that's just her role.

When killed, the speckled witch will have a collection of runes and odd trinkets that could teach a magic user a random Black or White spell; rolled below.

Black & White Spells
Roll 1d3 for a Black Spell
Roll 1d3+3 for a White Spell
Roll 1d2+2 for a Gray Spell
Roll 1d6 for a totally random colorless Spell.

[1] Great Black Beast
Summons forth a great riding beast- the size of an elephant. Its woolly body is pitch black and is moves almost noiselessly. There is no better transport for moving over huge distances in the dead of the night. Whoever rides the beast may bid it to march or charge- this creature has no tusks or trunk but can be a formidable siege weapon. It takes 1 damage per candle size light source every round that is nearby it- and it dies instantly in the sunlight. Even starlight will make it weak and eventually cause it to collapse 1d3 hours after it is produced. Only during an eclipse or in the pitch black night will this monster survive longer.

[2] Panther Straps
Dark leather straps burst from the object in question and fashion strongly to whoever wields it next. They are fit so tightly that any object bound with these is immune to being disarmed or knocked off even from the effects of a Loose spell or other magical effect. They cannot be stolen free by imps or other little thievish creatures. Poorly fitting armor is strapped well; granting up to +1 AC from the armor if their body could not make full use of it before.

This straps can be cut by metal over the course of an exploration turn, but are otherwise permanent. If used on an object that is burning hot or lined with spikes, makes an effective trap that is a pain to remove. Add an exploration turn to the time to doff any armor equipped by use of this spell.

[3] Beetleskin
Gives any object a shield of shiny, dark gray carapace. The carapace-shield levitates just an inch off of the object; absorbing all attacks coming from a single direction decided when the spell is cast. The carapace has 14 AC and caster level in hit points before it is destroyed.

[4] Powdered Silver
Conjures a light handful of light silvery metal powder. This dust has the same properties as silver does; weapons given a coat of it harm werewolves, for example. Circles drawn of the silver will be antimagical in nature. Cursed items shriek when dusted by this; and it can be used as a holy symbol of a pinch is thrown at an undead creature or vampire.

The dust is very lightweight, and as such blows away easily in the air. It has a 1 in 10 chance of being blown away every round when outdoors; with an instant loss if the weather is bad. Indoors it can remain more stable, but will blow away if a door is opened nearby or if the party moves past at anything but a snails pace in walking speed.

[5] Healer's Smock
Garbs the caster and up to two others in white aprons, masks, and gloves. These clean pieces of clothing are barriers to disease and sickness; and miasma breaks upon their touch. While performing first aid or healing, you restore +2 more hit points per healing item or procedure used. Diseases are beaten back by one extra day's worth of progression. While this provides no help at curing or ending curses; anyone dressed in such clean and pure garments will be immune to catching them themselves, even if the disease is highly transmutable.

Every time you use this smock or heal someone, it becomes slightly less pure, slowly changing its color from white, to off white, to silver, to gray. After healing or defending oneself against disease 5 times, the protection of these clean garments are lost and they will rapidly degrade into black matted rags.

[6] Angel Switch
This spell must be cast on an all white twig. Common in this Dimension, hard to get anywhere else. The twig is imbued with holy energy, dealing 1d4+1 damage to undead and being able to be used as a holy symbol. The switch remains sanctified in this manner until the switch is stained with blood- or in other words, you strike a living thing too hard.

The switch has a second property. If used to spank an intelligent being, the switch causes them great pain and forces them to make a save or tell the truth on one question being asked. The switch snaps and has no power against someone who is already aligned with Good or Order.

The Living Castles
The castles here are alive. These fortresses grow on their own and spit out civilization, like spores, or perhaps a defense mechanism. It is an upright dungeon. They are also played like dungeons.

Despite being the "civilization" of this world, they are by no means any safer then the gentle wilderness outside- far from it. Interior chambers of the castle sometimes trap beings or rooms that are meant to be connected to the outside- a giant princess wishing so badly to see the outside world again- her towers windows encased in the stone of the rest of the castle- she will lash out at anyone who dares enter this chamber. Not all of the people in this place are friendly; while there are those formed as the King and Wizard, some are created in the guise of the Executioner or Highwayman. The newly borns may be small; a tiny rat-sized hooded man with a proportionally "giant axe"- deals 1d2 damage, but eventually they will grow up and become huge, their minds more twisted with age as they yearn to be returned to the soil.

Everyone in the castle is a medieval stereotype. Think of fairy tales, or Shrek, and that's generally what the people there should follow. They don't have names- only titles. The thought of needing that much differentiation between two individuals is pointless; after all, people only are what they do. Kings are noble, Queens are pretty but schemers. Princesses are naive and lovely in all way, Princes are charming and adventurous. To give one of them a name is received as a secret treasure- held close their chest. "This is my name? Just for me?" They cannot think of or even imagine names, only the intruders from other worlds and realms have that power. Some will trade their goods or services for a strong name. Others will call the guards on you for trying to cast a witchcraft on them.

The people and places here are intentionally anachronistic. The castles feel more like Hollywood movie sets, or a Disney film, then an actual medieval castle. They are always made of undressed stone with some tapestries hung around. There may be a garden in a courtyard or a tiny plot of cabbages outside the front gate, and peasants leading around donkeys with ropes, but there's no farming economy. It's nowhere near enough food to support this population; the castle provides for these people. Storerooms that open in its interior are already full of food. There are no hovels and villages for the serfs; they just sleep on the stone floor of the great hall or in a side passage. "Where else would peasants sleep?"

The castles reproduce via budding. They always begin as a small structure of a different purpose- a lonely wizard tower, a stone circle or monument for fairytale creatures to congregate, or a tiny gatehouse. They are always made of stone though- the forests here are untouched. The treasure trove of white and black lumber is only of interest to a single "character" that these castles spawn- the Woodsman or Lumberjack. He's the one that is most "awake" to reality, the one most distant and aware of the world outside of the fairy tale fiction of the castle- he's the one who knows most about the forest and its creatures. Only by his axe is the forest held back from consuming the great white castles. He is a part of this process too- he is the clear cutter that opens up space for the castle to grow. He's an evolutionary measure- he destroys the competition and opens up the ground for this kind of arcane "flora" to expand- but he's most aware of his place in the cycle.

The Black Forests
Far away from the growing castles are the wastelands- the Black Forests. The trees here are darker, with deeper shadows and shade. You will need a torch to wander these woodlands- even during a dreary overcast day. Wood from your world burns red and yellow, wood from here burns a very pure titanium white. Both attract the eyes from the lurkers in the dark places.

The Black Forests are more cruel then the White Woads. There is still a fairytale logic, but this is where the rules are more Grimm. Human wanderers, monochrome as they are, are replaced with little men with unpronounceable names and weird hybrids of various animals. This is the other side of this realm's ecological coin. The landscape itself is more chaotic; drawn from a primordial state of being. And in the darkest forests you can find the ruins of what was once a White Castle- a Black Ruin.

The Black Ruin was once a shining White Castle- still organic in shape, but now decayed. Just as a classic dungeon, it crawls with monsters, traps, and strange beings. The stone itself has changed color- it is not merely a trick of shadow, but the dead castle stones literally turn black when dead for so long, creating a shadowy spot of darkness in the world. The old bones of the residents of one of the white castles remain here- wishing only the castle remain strong.

The only people who live around these are criminals, vagrants- negative stereotypes. Even the witches of the White Woads go by a series of logical steps- they can be tricked by clever young boys and impressed by brave little girls. In a Black Ruin, there are thieves and tomb robbers, monochrome black and gray, who have never actually stolen anything, but yet rely on it as their career of "choice". You can hire some of these to be your retainers if you wish; though their loyalty and personalities will remain as thin as the shadows on the wall.

Black Knight (7+1 HD, +6 AC from Armor, +4 To-Hit, 1d8+2 Midnight Broadsword, Magic Shield, Unyielding Strength)
Morale- 13
Number- Just One

Honor bound black knight. Always fighting for some promise- nobody shall cross this bridge, or nobody will touch the sacred tree's treasure, and so on. Upon the final hit that would kill the knight- the Knight gets one final attack in revenge to anyone in melee which deals +2 To-Hit and Damage. This Black Knight will always be carrying or guarding an Achromatic Treasure- roll 1d4+4 on the table below.

Treasure Table
Roll a 1d4 for treasures found in the White Woads
Roll a 1d8 for treasures found in a White Castle
Roll a 1d4+8 for treasures found in a Black Ruin
Roll a 1d12 for a treasure found in a Black Forest OR for a totally random Treasure.

[1] Silver mushroom. Cures blindness.
[2] Chalk dew. Can be drank to recover +1 Hit Point or be used as paint thinner.
[3] Little Fairy, trapped in a jar. If you let her out she'll cast a 1st level magic spell for you.
[4] Milk Spiderweb. If you sew this into a garment you can repair it as per the spell Mending, or you can spin it into a bowstring which will make the bow +1.
[5] Mesa Dust. Can be sprinkled over a horse or donkey and it will find its way back home.
[6] Little Eagle Carving. Worth sentimental value to a villager living in a castle; equal to a favor.
[7] Black and White Portrait of a Noble. Worth novel value to someone outside of this realm. If the paint is removed, the parchment it is otherworldly bright white (Spectralon)
[8] Vantablack Handkerchief. Wizard can use this to cast Darkness, once per day, or you can burn it to cast a bright-white flash which blinds creatures with Darkvision for 1d4 rounds.
[9] Fortress Enchantment. Magical force in the air that rolls for a random encounter if you speak above a whisper in this area. Its just a sullen wooden plaque that says "Quiet Please!"
[10] Ashen Ring of Might. Grants +1 to your Strength score each day you wear it. After four days, it becomes stuck on your finger and would need to be amputated. If you reach 23 Strength with this, your heart bursts in your chest and you die.
[11] Pale Ring of Wisdom. Grants +1 to your Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma each day, until all three are at least at a +1 Modifier. If you take off the ring, you instantly lose these stats.
[12] Silvered Golden Cache. Chest of off-white metal that is this realm's gold. Worth quite a lot to a scholar, worth quite a lot more to a banker. Like 30,000c worth.

Dimension of Candle Canyons

Light a candle and hold it to your breast. Go into the mountain pass, turn past the silent stones and look not where you go. Before you know it- now you're here. Endless sky above and crag below; where you are you shall not know.

The Candle Canyons
This is an alternate dimension. To arrive here requires a magical portal, or for one to arrive through a small ritual as described in the poem above. The land is craggy and mountainous, becoming incredibly steep and impossible to proceed upwards; mostly you will pass through canyons which, much like a natural labyrinth, seem to extend outwards infinitely in all directions. While you will never see the sun or source of light in the sky; there is both day and night here.

However, even during the darkest nights light is abundant in the form of the candles. The candles are everywhere in this realm. They float in the air; appearing as traditional, generic beeswax candles, but made by unseen hands. All of them are lit, and gently float over the passes and rocks of the canyons you are in, always providing a gentle light with which to see. It seems as though the candles are less numerous in the day, with more and more of them appearing at dusk, being strung along by invisible, undetectable winds. This has given rise to the belief that somewhere in this realm is a great candle-maker, who makes these candles by day and lets them fly at night to light all corners of this realm.

If you manage to reach up or shoot down a candle, you will find it as it is- a wax candle. You can carry it around or use it to light fires or whatever. It's just a candle. Once a candle has been knocked from the air, it will not fly on its own power again.

The land and stones of the Canyon are very uniform. The air is dry and arid, with a hint of warm desert breezes just above the canyon you are in, floating on the sky. The air here is strange, charged with the magics of air and fire, making it difficult to float or fly any higher then a few feet- going high enough to scan the entire range seems nearly impossible- though the few who have only report seeing an endlessly stretched mountain range in all directions. The rocks are a light brown, with deeper reds and oranges in the underground and the soils on the ground. There are plants here, occasionally, but all of them are shrubs, small patches of wild grasses, and a very rare collection of mountain flowers on slightly more open areas. Without trees, finding firewood is near impossible- but thankfully the candles eliminate the need for light for camping and the rocks absorb the heat from the day beautifully, making the days and nights both pleasant and comfortable. However, you will have to rely on magical fire or simply get used to dry and cold rations for eating if you spend a long time here.

As for the wildlife; shrubs and grasses are most common. Small streams of water sometimes pool from the rocks and spill down the canyon basins, creating small green ravines in little creeks, but then the water will just disappear into a crack of under a heavy stone and be gone again- the water here is too uncommon and unpredictable to act as a landmark or guide- there are no rivers branching to form a great ocean. The most common creatures here are the rock lizards, who come out during the daylight hours to eat the occasional rust-red gnat or wasp. Small bee hives are sometimes built in a crevice, complete with lazy bees seeking mountain flowers and making golden honey.

The only other natural animal that seems to exist here are wild mountain goats. They are only about the size of a domestic goat, are always a ruddy rust color, and are always found alone. They are incredibly skittish, despite having no natural predators, and seem to almost purposefully avoid leading tracks on soft sands- despite predators using scent more often, almost as if they are avoiding intelligent trackers who may try to find them. Their droppings are also the color of the rocks here, which ends up making their leavings look like little pebbles, and the goats are said to lick the stones at some places to give their digestive tract their unique coloration. These goats are rare, and hunting one with anything but a very skilled tracker is impossible. Some believe that this indicates they are going extinct and the remainders have evolved to avoid capture, while others think they are just this wily as a consequence of being created to live in this realm.

Stone Etchings
All around the canyons are etchings in the stone. These primitive drawings vary in style and subject, but all seem very old. The etchings usually depict humanoid creatures with long limbs, drawn with white circles on the head to depict wisdom or, in some interpretations, magical ability. It is unknown if these drawings were made by the many-limbed witches of the candle canyons, or if it was survivors, or a yet unknown dead culture who made them.

The stone etchings are also not on the surface; they lead inwards. The canyons are sunk into the endless stone and mountains of this realm; but even then there are inlets. Cavities grown in the rocks and stones, these caves are thankfully shallow- and always lit with candles, who float inside to keep the darkness away. The etchings are most common in these places, shelters for whoever created the scratchings. Here the subject matter varies; some will draw the goats that inhabit this realm, where as others draw landmarks or arrows to guide whoever reads them long after. Sometimes, these stone etchings will lead to treasure caches hidden between the crags of a stone- but they won't always warn of what lies inside those cracks.

While nobody is sure who made the etchings, everyone is sure of what they used to make them. The occasional dark gray colored stone found in these chambers or among the stones of the canyons is not of the same material as the rest of this world. Instead; these dark stones contain ore for a dark heavy metal- a stone of this material with a sharp tip can easily scratch the red dusty stones in this place.

Spiderwitches
The biggest threat that exists in this realm to outside explorers is, by far, the spiderwitches. These many-limbed witches appear as old crones with extra arms and legs, often stretched to exaggerated lengths. They can crawl over the stones- and while they move silently, their distorted shadows over the rocks, backlit by a floating candle, or their occasional mumbling in an ancient language, can give you a warning that they are coming. Spiderwitches are incredibly solitary; but seem to exist in a hierarchy, with ever larger and more powerful witches calling upon a handful of smaller ones if you offend her.

The Spiderwitches are predators. They attack on sight, except during the night- they would prefer to retreat. It seems they are more audacious during the day, as though the lack the candles around encourages their behavior, while the flying candles repel them. Beyond being dangerous foes in a close range fight, with sharp claws and wild flailing arms and legs; they are also skilled with magic and curses, and are known to be very territorial and aggressive.

The Spiderwitches seem live on the top of the mountain peaks- a few shallow crags and stones for shelter during the night, hiding away from the light of the candles that float down into the valleys and crags of this rocky realm. Whenever you see a dark peak in the distance, untouched by the candlelight, you can assume a Spiderwitch is up there. Worse yet, she is watching you.

Finally; the dangerous witches do have some amount of treasure. It's never in gold or jewels, nor the rotting bone charms and unspeakable substances smeared on their skin, but in the biological anomalies that lie within and on their bodies. Some think that the spiderwitches were never born, living in this realm since time began as nigh-immortals, and are all incredibly old- old enough for some very interesting things to grow from their ancient dusted flesh. If you slay a spiderwitch, you will find something interesting in her flesh- roll on the table below.

Spiderwitch Anomaly Table - Roll 1d10 for Regular Spiderwitch, 2d12 for an Ancient Spiderwitch
[1] Knot of Hair. Found in their filthy, matted hair. This gray ball of hairs seems harder then it should be- blades break before it is untangled. If smashed with hammers and fed into a forge the blade made with it will be magic, granting +1 to hit and damage and being immune to most magic spells. Whatever metal the blade is made with will also turn a dark gray-black and have no shine.

[2] Armpit Mushrooms. Found in the crook of the arm, filthily humid. These tiny black mushrooms seem to squiggle around in your grasp and live on past the death of their host. If cut into pieces and dried; act as a potion reagent that cures insanity and demonic possession. If you're dumb enough to cook and eat them the food will taste absolutely delicious. They are also highly addictive- causing a levels worth of drain if you go a month without a meal laced with them.

[3] Squiggling Thing. Found in the folds of a sagging stomach- or an unexpected marsupial pouch on this witch. Appears like a tiny pink embryo of some nameless mammalian creature. If you bury it in the earth you will be relieved of one disease or curse that ails you. If you eat it live you will gain +1d6 Hit Points and +1 permanent Strength, but will be reviled by all sentient creatures for a year and a day. It will die in three days once removed from the "mother".

[4] Flesh Roach. Found in an open wound- it obviously lived under that skin before the cut. It's a large black roach with a foul attitude- need a pair of metal calipers to pull it out, it will bite your fingers off (2 damage) if you try to pull it out with your hands. The roach is a parasite and will burrow into any living flesh it's placed on, granting whoever is implanted with it +1 AC and the ability to climb walls like a spider, at the cost of aging at double the rate.

[5] Scarified Skin. Found on (several) excess hands, from the palm to the elbow. These hands have been scratched with ominous bloody patterns, long since scabbed over and healed. They also have arcane formula inscribed on them; and could act as a form of mobile spellbook. Magic users could inspect these and study them to find a new spell, but have a 1 in 6 chance of activating a curse that reanimates all the severed hands in an attempt to strangle the one stealing their secrets.

[6] Venom Gland. Found in the mouth. Spiderwitches are not known to bite- but perhaps this one may already show you what her venom does. It's a tiny black-gray sac which contains a potent venom. Anyone struck by a weapon coated in this venom must save or take 2d6 damage each day for the next five days. Each day, they also shrink about 10% of their height, which does not come back, as their body crushes down on their innards. If you trick someone to drink this there is no save, but the venom tastes so bitter and horrible that its taste is almost impossible to mask. The gland contains 2d4 doses.

[7] Great Seed. Found in the stomach. It is a small tan seed that has somehow resisted being digested for who knows how long it laid in her acidic stomach. The seed will grow into a massive tree- though it will take many centuries to fully grow- which reaches to the first heaven above. Strangely, the seed doesn't seem native to the Candle Canyons dimension, and the soil here is too arid and poor to cause the seed to germinate at all.

[8] Witch Roe. Found clinging to the inside of the thighs. Tiny green "eggs". If you eat some, god forbid, you are wracked with terrible nightmares and maniac episodes for about a year. In exchange, you also learn a new random 1st level spell which you can cast once per day, permanently. If you are not a magic user, scale this spell as though you are a magic user of 1/2 your level.

[9] Frosty Cataract. Found in one gray eye. This tiny hard disc of witch-material grants a certain degree of stealth. People around you seem to pay you no mind- they can perceive you, they just choose not to interact or think about it too much. Wearing an object incorporated with this cataract grants +3 to stealth checks or lets you slip up once without degrading to a lower stealth level. If you snap the cataract its magic is permanently lost but for the next 3 days everyone in the world forgets you exist and forget anything you said or did the moment you are out of their sight.

[10] Little Red Mouse. Found under the witch's tongue, trembling. These mice are impossible to find; if any even exist in the wild in the canyons. You can only find obedient, pet mice in the mouths of slain witches. Their relationship with the witches is unknown, but they probably eat whatever the witch eats. These mice can crawl up to an whisper in your ear- their whiskers hinting at ways to turn situations to your advantage- granting +1 to reaction checks or +1 in 6 chance for any role involving diplomacy or law/debate. If you open your mouth, it will crawl under your tongue and accept you as its new owner.

[11] Stone Arrowhead. Found a few inches from the heart. Made of the same unusual dark gray stone found in a few of the etching caves- this arrowhead narrowly missed its mark inside one of these fearsome witches and remained in her body afterwards. If you affix it to an arrow and fire it true- getting either an 18 or higher on your attack roll against a spiderwitch, it instantly slays her. Whenever this happens, you will find the witch's heart has turned to stone with the arrow still connected to it, meaning it can only be used once.

[12] Beast Core. Found in the chest, between the lungs, pulsing with energy. This core is normally only found in the hearts of powerful monsters- used by Xianxia cultivators for their endless quest for immortality. Anyone who eats the core de-ages towards their physical prime by 1d20 years and gain +2 to all saving throws permanently, but each year has a 1 in 6 chance to turn into a Random Animal. They will change into an animal for that year, acting as that animal would, until they return to their normal form with that time missing from their memory. They will always retain a small quirk of appearance or personality from this animal form.

Sunken Cisterns
Deep beneath the canyons, and in the safer caverns which are marked with the etchings of some ancient people or explorers from before, there lay hidden ways deeper within. Though hidden in the rocks, small "buttons" made of carved stones or cracks too smooth or straight to have formed naturally are incorporated into these etchings. If one is to press or pull on these subtle clues, they will be rewarded with a passageway opening up to them.

Within these carved passages are large underground cisterns; huge pools made of the rock of the canyons themselves, carved smoothly into massive cisterns and aqueducts. Water lays undisturbed here- the water here in this darkness is clean and fresh as any mountain spring, contrary to as it may appear and how long it is remained here. Some claim that there is a hidden network of wind traps and dew-creating etchings in the stone above them that catch moisture from the air outside; but no droplets seem to come down nor new water flowing into the cisterns. Neither is the water in the cistern at risk of spoiling or becoming dusty or fetid- the water is as clean as though it had just rained down that very day. The cisterns themselves contain small lakes worth of water; you could sink in one and not be able to reach the bottom in a single breath, and the great stone reservoirs are filled to the absolute brim- any breaking of the surface tension causes it to spill down onto the floor below.

Between cistern-systems are rocky tunnels similar to sewers, but clean and only present to move water. Many passages remain bone dry; overfill systems in the event the cisterns overflow one day. Unlike the caverns above, there are no scratches or artworks adorning the walls, besides the occasional sculpture garden. Perhaps the people above are ancestors, or descendants, locked away from these stone cities.

Dwellings are also down here, their inhabitants long gone. Carved into the walls of large square "courtyards" which are built around central stone fire pits. The places are studiously clean, the only hint of dirt or use by anyone are the piled up ashes inside the central firepits. The dwellings are like facades; rarely ever more then one room deep, always with a window or door facing the central pit. Off from these central "town squares" are small chambers; often heavily ceremonial but lacking in any utility or outside connections, as though they are only there to provide a private place to speak. Small stone firepits are central in these rooms as well; but small enough to produce light that is more intimate, unlike the bonfires of the great chambers.

The most perplexing thing about these ancient cisterns and the adjoining places around them, perhaps, is the total lack of remains or artifacts. No skeletons of ancient peoples, no long since rotted foodstuffs or rusting weapons of the ruling class. Almost nothing is down here. Water is plentiful, though light and food is not, and the chambers themselves seem almost bereft of living things. Even the spiderwitches don't come down here. The only real threat here is the size; the pure scale of things puts the upper world of endless peaks and canyons into perspective. In any direction you roam you will find stairs leading deeper and hallways in all directions. Identical smooth hallways stretching onwards into nigh-infinity. One could spend entire lifetimes walking the halls here and finding nothing except for the living places, the chambers, pools of clean water, and the statues which hold tiny carvings of ancient and forgotten words. The longer one roams the more one must consider the absurdity of this place; was this once the living space of an ancient civilization, who vacated or died off? Or was it being built for one, prepared and pristine, but never entered?

40 Minute Settings- Nalispar & The King's Island

On this episode of 40 minute settings, I used less randomization and more brainstorming. Because this is technically two settings instead of one, I allowed myself about 10 minutes of brainstorming time to come up with some basic concepts. You can find the completed bullet points at the bottom of the document, as to avoid spoilers.

I really enjoyed writing this one, possibly more then Etthurhia, because the idea was more fully formed in my mind and represents a type of fantasy I don't see as much in tabletop games that is nonetheless very famous and popular. I had to intentionally stop myself from thinking more about the setting before I started writing about it; since the whole point is to write it up in 40 minutes! Anyways, hope you enjoy this bit of fluffy worldbuilding.

The King's Island

On a small rainy island in the center of the known world is the heart of the greatest empire in the entire world. The King's Empire stretches from sea to land to mountain in all directions from this shining jewel of the world; King's Island. It is the heart of industry and technology, as well as the culture of the world. This island is rich; spices and goods from the colonies, the slaves and servants, and the technological innovation has made the King's Island the place to be.

But while adults work and serve in his Majesty's factories or under the banners of the great lion; the children sit in leaky boarding houses and dream.

Among the kids, the dark-skinned servants from the far off colonies, and the occultists come whispers of another place entirely. They call it Nalispar, a land of dreams. It is said that only those with imagination can enter it, and only when one is asleep. Strangely, the realm is not just a dream, as it is shared by all those who dream it.

The King's Island itself is a twisting maze of cobblestone streets, factories, smoke stacks, pinned in by expensive apartments and houses with lawns so small as to barely sit in. It has expansive docks, as the King's Empire mostly grew itself out of naval might, and the huge cannon ships dominate the skyline to the stroller along the boardwalk. The smoke of the city isn't exactly the cleanest, which is why residents often try to take vacations off on the far off tropical colonies, or up in the mountains in “rival” nations so small and insignificant to not even need naming here.

There is also a sense of mystery. While much of the world is being taken down and codified by the various scientists, borders on the map are being filled in, and newly discovered truths of the world such as Phrenology are taking away the commonly thought truths of the old realms. Nowadays, nobody believes in the magical and supernatural, and the old fairies of the druid's woad are thought to have either never existed, or perhaps just a long extinct animal with a few unusual traits. But even in this society on the up and up with science and learning; shadowy occultism exists in all levels of the society. From the shadiest back alley streets selling potions and palm-readings, to the highest secretive opium dens for the rich concerning themselves with psychic mediumship. There is still a sense that there is a secret lore out there. To the most attuned, they may have heard one shadowy name.

Class division is obvious, from the clothes that are worn to the streets one may walk along. Dapper individuals with waistcoats and ladies with long dresses stick to the clean sidewalks while busy errand boys and servants muck the street and hurry back and forth to deliver one of a million unfinished gadgets to the patent offices before they close for the day- even those of low social class can find themselves launched to the heights of wealth and nobility for the right invention. Policemen stand against stone pillars of old buildings and keep a lookout for urchins running between the legs of the adults; unsupervised and unwanted.

There are an unfortunate many orphans in the King's Island. The urban poor, dead soldiers, bankrupted business men, and many others chewed up by the teeth of this great and rapidly changing society leave behind their young. Boarding schools and orphanages are stocked up with a great many kids, who are often left to their own devices once the nannies and nursemaids retire for the night. Around these circles of beds and drawing books; tales emerge of another place.

Nalispar

For those who go to sleep with the heart to find it, and those who know its name, they may travel there. If you have never heard the name of Nalispar, it is said they cannot go there. Adults of the King's land probably haven't heard of the name, and the servants who speak of it from the far off colonies hush the children and try to silence them, as their cultures have more knowledge of it then even the greatest imperial scientists would dare know. If you do not wish to travel to Nalispar in your sleep, you also cannot go there, fear blocks the way. But to those board, cast aside, or simply adventurous young children, it offers a taste of freedom and escape from the foggy gray streets of King's Island.

The moment you find yourself in Nalispar, you will see color. The sky is a bright pink at dawn, shifts from yellows to blues to emerald greens in mid day, and finally falls on a curtain of dark blue and purple at night. The land is tropical, with the hooting and hollering of a thousand tropical birds, a million plants and their beautiful and delicious fruits. The monkeys paint images of themselves and their diminutive visitors on the tree trunks using pastel colored dyes they made from sticking their thumbs in flowers, a pastime that many of the young visitors will also try and tire of in their first few visits to the magical land of Nalispar.

When a child first dreams of the dream world, they find themselves in the center of a clearing with bright red lines painted onto the ground, each spiking off from the center as a giant pinwheel and pointing in a direction. They have begun at the center, which is adorned only by a small floating staircase with four steps ascending towards the sky, and nothing beyond. This place is where all children appear on their first visit. Those kids who sleep together in great communal dormitories or in their bedrooms will find themselves often appearing together in short time in Nalispar. The unfortunate lonely children may simply have to pick a direction and stick with it. These lines lead to the different lands of Nalispar, inhabited by its tribes.

In Nalispar, there are only children. No adults are supposed to be here. Every kid appears in their pajamas and sleepware. There are adults here but they aren't humans. At least, they aren't agents of their own wills. The children may be afraid of them at first, but there is no need to fear. All of them are jovial, simple. All of them are an unusual color, reds or blues, and adorned in tribal wear and feathers and flowers in their hair. They are very simple people, and are easily impressed and awed by the children telling them of the scientific world. The child who demonstrates a clever magic trick or invention of a simple tool can wow these simpletons; but their responses are canned, forced. It feels very much like these puppets are playing at being savages, a useful prop for the children of conquerors, who don't quite understand but still feel the vague sense of superiority they're supposed to have for a culture more primitive then their own. They are like actors, filling kids with a sense of adventure.

Of course- these adults have a sign. Their foreheads all have a raised white circle, a bump, which designates themselves as people of Nalispar. Not from the real world, none of them can ever be in King's Island nor ever will be.

The land of Nalispar itself is filled with tropical forests, an Arabian desert dotted with tombs built into geometric shapes, tropical beaches, a comfortably chilly autumn world with talking badgers and rabbits stuffing their finds into trees for a winter that never seems to come. The land itself is conductive to adventure; there always seems to be something new to find, a new beast to befriend, or a new treasure to find. The tribes who walk the land seem like keepers of the place, but have no trouble feeding and clothing the children who lose their way or take a tumble; its not like they need to eat here. But for many orphaned children, an imaginary warmed meal of corn and beans from a maternal figure is far better then anything they would get in the real world.

Every child that enters Nalispar has something special about them. It seems to be determined on their first trip, or unique to each child. Every kid can hold out their hands and be given something from the land. Usually, its a very old tree nearby the central dais that gives the gift to the child, but sometimes it is a tribesman, or other times it is even another child who knows the secret. Basically, they are given a small item. This is a special artifact, unique to that child, which has powers all its own. Brave young boys may be given a wooden stick which, when struck to the ground, can create a terrifying sound of thunder, or be tucked between the legs and flown like a witch's broomstick. Nice young girls are given magic thimbles, which let them make (sweet tasting) medicine from filling the thimble with water, weave warm, dry blankets from snow, or held out like armor against a thorn bush and breaking the thorns to make it safe to pass. Clever youths may be given pictureboks, which can record things they've seen in Nalispar with wonderful color illustrations that can be brought out again just by pointing at the picture. Those youths who boast their noble blood find themselves with a little tin knight who will grow to full size and valiantly quest for anything or anyone their heart desires. Regardless of the gift, they are all very powerful.

However, Nalispar is not always a land purely for the good hearted and innocent. Sometimes, children who are growing older envy Nalispar over the real world. They may seek to find a way to stay there forever, even as their body grows bigger and more frightening then what is intended for the residents of this place. Sometimes, adults who take special drugs or learn meditations in shadowy King Island parlors can slip into this realm. Armed with all the strength and cruelty of an adult; these men and women appear in Nalispar without the white raised circle on their head; only for a frightened explorer to see at the last moment in quite a panic.

Even stranger, these “magical” curiosities can sometimes, very rarely, be brought to King's Island. Children may wake up in their bed chamber with their magic thimble or broomstick or toy in hand. The next time they sleep with the item, they can bring it back to Nalispar. But if it is taken from them, they find themselves nearly unable to sleep at all, as if the item belongs to their dreaming self. Those children with their items taken will always grow into baggy-eyed, insomniac, dark adults who seek nothing more then to return to Nalispar to recapture the magic of their youth.

Original Brainstorming Session Bulletpoints

• Nalispar is like the Lovecraft Dream Lands
• This magical fantasy world is like Narnia; visited by kids from the “real” world, which is inspired by nostalgic Victorian London society
• Very Peter Pan and Merry Poppins esque
• Maybe some voodoo shenanigans, like Nalispar didn't exist until the colonies were set up in some not!Carribean?
• Kids die or go missing because Nalispar isn't all fun and games
• Kids have special powers in Nalispar
• Nalispar is accessed through dreams, and only those with “imagination” can access it
• Maybe adults lose imagination (not just figuratively as in real life, but literally) as they grow older, but crazy people or drugged up people on fine colonial opium can access the realm
• Nalispar is a shadowy rumor that the kids don't take to adults about, but servants from the not!Colonies know about it and don't want them talking about it maybe?
• King's Island is meant to be rainy old London and the heart of a great empire, hence the name
• Currently ruled by a powerful King conquering places all over the world
• Kids can be rich, poor, orphaned, abused, whatever; as long as they've heard of Nalispar they can access it
• Maybe kids that come from shittier homes are more powerful in Nalispar, providing a tempting offer for them to leave the real world forever (?)
• Maybe Nalispar is like a forbidden realm or maybe even a predator that spreads by getting kids to dream about it and then consuming them(?)
• Nalispar is divided up into zones or worlds like a theme park maybe, split down equatorial lines(?) or branching from a central “zone”
• One land is themed off ancient temples and cultures like mesoamerican Indiana Jones type stuff, another could be pirates on the high seas, something North American-y for Peter Pan vibes?
• Grim or dark worlds probably wouldn't exist in the dream space, but danger from adventure certainly would
• No human NPCs- everyone in Nalispar is a talking animal or object. Adults are evil in this world, or intruders on the fun family adventurers.
• Maybe the “fake” adults in this world are all marked by a symbol, these are fantasy people not from the real world. Could be thoughtforms made from dreams or like literal actors in a play
• Maybe Nalispar has only a fake exterior to draw kids in deeper, if you want to make it more grimdark, Like the trees are only painted on one side, temples unfinished except the parts you're supposed to explore, etc. Gives it a fake artificial quality?
• King's Island is filled with foggy rivers and chimney sweeps; lots of class inequality and other very real concerns that children don't understand much
• King's Island might have a black market for things brought back from Nalispar; maybe kids can bring back an item or items from Nalispar on rare occasion; perhaps these artifacts have magical powers or can act as a power source in a sort of Victorian occult steampunky sense?

40 Minute Settings- Etthurhia

This is a new “feature” on this blog. I want to write more, but sometimes it's hard to decide how to iron out details of a fantasy world without any sort of guide or rules. So instead, we're making something new. This is going to be a fantasy world built in 40 minutes. I'm starting a timer before I start writing the setting proper after I've generated some stuff to get started.

I don't really do a lot of “worldbuilding”. However, I want to try it sometimes. Instead of making it just about my pet fantasy setting, instead I decided to do something different and force myself to write using random generation. This is going to feature a lot of randomly generated stuff for inspiration along with a strict time limit.

Themes

Darkness, nature, swamps, eldritch through a natural lens.

Musical Accompaniment

Some music from Skyrim. Nature/Ambient.

Magic Card Inspiration

Cycled through random cards until a monoBlack, monoGreen card, and then Sorcery were found.

-Bog Elemental

-Daybreak Ranger/Nightfall Predator

-Portent of Betrayal

Generated Invocations

By Xeipi!

By The Celestial Swamps Of Grmaurme!

By The One-thousand Flock Of Visodaeo!

I Call Upon Hidden Hacrotha!

I Evoke The Necropolis Of Phedenim!

Generated Realm Names

Empire of the Windy Bull's Amulet

High Earl's Realm

Knee Province

Living Earldom of the Pipes

Titan's Kingdom

Randomly Generated Fantasy World Name

Etturhia

Randomly Generated Death Worm Names (Took 2)

Urghirun
Urnur

Random Number between 1 and 1000

817

That should be enough to get us started. Original generators in order are done by MtG Gatherer, Seventh Sanctum, and fantasynamegenerators.com

------

Etthurhia

This is a sunken land. It's cracked ground goes from the black swamps to the tall white mountain peaks; those far away places known as the Titan's Kingdom. Only the most cunning or brave of men dare venture in those places, where the ancient ones so built the world.

The only race here is the race of men. Men are made of mud and mud they shall return. The “Gods” are long gone, they are the names for the old Titans who are now finished with their creation, uncaring if all but their mountain fall into black swamps. It seems every year the water is rising, or just getting more clouded and hard to swim. Men built, once, using the tools left behind by the ancient Titans. They could know all 817 of their names, and speak them to make the land go up, then dry, then press it flat, then dot it with trees and shrubs, then make the animals come and birds roost. But these sanctuaries are few and far between now. “Roads” are swinging, precarious bridges made of sticks and bones, the last bits of relatively safe travel between encampments.

Of course, one could brave the swamps. The mud is poison to you. You were made of mud, once, and by touching mud you are losing yourself. The longer one spends in the water, the more they forget. Forget their lives and forget their morals. They wish to betray their fellows, and the signs are all their clearly beforehand; they stop caring for the suffering of others at all, and speak ill of their family when not in earshot. These men are doomed. One day, they will be nothing but the bog itself, sludge rising to swallow and crush others who dare enter.

But not everything is so evil and dark. The Incantations are not wholly forgotten. By speaking to Xeipi, you can know the direction and make the moss grow that way. By calling upon the Celestial Swamps of Grmaurme, you can force away the foul swamp creatures for good ones. The crocodiles and giant dragonflies will leave you alone if you know to call the One-thousand Flock Of Visodaeo; the spawn of all things that fly and swim. Of course, these invocations don't work against the death worms. They were once the predators of the titans, or so it seemed. The most infamous one is Urghirun, black, with a hunger and sadism that strikes fear into the hearts of rulers. He stalks Knee Province, and is the reason none visit, not even to buy their black-salt lanterns.

In the Empire of Windy Bull, the worlds greatest spot of dry land exists. It is two valleys, strung together with a tiny 'wall' of mountains that keep the bog away. The Amulet of the Windy Bull is what is keeping the muck and swamp from tearing these stone walls down. Within the Empire, the men train and fight to search the swamp, both for worthwhile survivors to bring back to join them, as well as plunder. One of the most common invocations is to say “I Evoke The Necropolis Of Phedenim!” to open the doorways to sunken temples. It keeps the basements cleared of muck for a few hours at most. Just enough time to get in, get treasure, and leave before the swamp leeches sift back down through the stonework. The greatest treasure here are names; names of the Titanous Gods, names of debters. Debts are bought and sold as a currency themselves, as sometimes a favor is worth more then gold. No one knows this better then the High Earl.

The High Earl is an oddity amongst the race of men. He is immortal, forever kept alive by the names he has accrued. His true name is so long and his personas so numerous that “High Earl” is the only name of which is useful and convenient to call him by. Within his chest are holes that lead to the Living Earldom of the Pipes- his living body is its own Kingdom. Within it are shades, shadowy figures in the suggestion of a form, with masks. These are the names he has taken as favors. The Earl is a powerful sorcerer as well, possibly the greatest, due to his names and collection of power he had so gained.

The trees near the swamps are bolstered, stakes pushed into soil and twine strung around the saplings, pulled towards the land so their fronds do not hang in the water. This is because of Hidden Hacrotha. One calls his name to sees what is the dark shape hidden under the swamp water. In this place, it is Urnur the death worm, gray in tone, who stalks the waters. He waits for those to get close to the water's edge, hanging over it on a bowed tree, and then he will bite the leaves. So carefully he will pull them into the water; first a toe, then a foot, then a leg, and snap! Bite whatever is just under the surface. The more patient he gets, the more he can eat. He is getting very patient, and very smart for a death worm. This does not bode well for the people of High Earl's Realm.

People trade with dry linens. The air here is damp, everywhere, except Windy Bull of course. The first time a shirt or sock touches swamp water it is like a maiden losing her virginity- it can never quite go back to how it was, regardless of how much you clean and scrub it pure again. A good pair of socks is like a horse here. The mud in your boots is endlessly compacted and squished against your skin; trenchfoot is a common aliment. If only someone knew the invocation to cure it, if there even is one. Trade your nickname to the Earl's men, they may teach you. All names are valuable to his immortal self; when you were called Skipper as a child, or Drunkard as an adult, these are names. Names for names is a trade that all are willing to make, especially for a clean wool coat.

Blue-black mushrooms grow on the trees at shoulder height. They can only be collected when they 'bloom', which is when the water is just below their water level. Water rises and falls like the seasons in other worlds. Black sludge collects at the bottom in summer, the ground almost feels solid for a while, but the further down the endless hills, further away from the Titans' mountain, the deeper the water will get during the flood season. Water doesn't come down from the sky very often here, it comes up from the lowlands, and then up higher still. The small pools left over from the retreat of the water sometimes hold horrible lungfish, or sometimes delicious urchins, whose poison is bought and sold for use in the tanglewood cities in the treetops. Assassins are very valuable up there. And anyone who is a good climber is a good assassin. Most of them refuse to look their victims in the eye; spider climb under the floorboards and stick a needle in your target's foot. It's that easy. They may even speak the wrong invocation because they think it was a simple climbing-snake bite. Foolish tree dwellers. They think they are so safe just because they sleep up there.

Of course, the most dangerous men are the opposite of the tree dwellers. The mud men. Those who live near or in the mire proper and enjoy it. When the water retreats and the ground is dark, moist, and squishy for months on end, the mud men dig up things that fell in the swamp long, long centuries ago. Ancient things. Names of Titans who didn't build with the other Titans. Titans that went down hill, towards the black mud sea. Towards the sinkhole at the end of the world. Their names are striken from all the tablets and records- and if you see one, you should do the same. Even uttering their name is forbidden. Too much rides at stake for you to bring their attention to our little pocket of earth that does not consume us as greedily as crocodiles. The mud men are not dangerous for this reason though. They are dangerous because they are changing. They grow fur and claws, they become dumb and impulsive, they learn how to swim. They are becoming beasts; mucks and ooze is the breeding grounds for a return to the mud from whence you came.

Weapons in Etthurhia are simple. Everyone who wishes to live carries a sculptor's knife to mark the mud or tree branches, as well as to help shape and carve into clay. Everyone who wishes to not only live, but actually stand a chance against the foes in the mire carry a sickle-sword. The sword can curve through bog elementals and other creatures; a nice square shield is carried by mercenary companies. Especially those hired by the Earl. The shields are held flat against the ground and their corners interlock for when a rainmaking beast accidentally starts another flood.

People eat muscles. The tiny stuck-on creatures that live on the trees and rocks around the dry and wet seasonal areas- they do best when left alone and in return produce a huge, but nearly impossible to reverse, symbiotic relationship with their humans. Humans get a nearly unlimited food source, and in return, the muscles get several new places to attach. Like human skin. Lovely. The islands that men have built range from tiny foundations on which to build a single tower, to large shelves cutting out a negative space in the trees and mangroves above. Humans must fight to survive in this world, there is no “competition” with the ecosystem. Man will have what man wants.

Swamp Dragon @Ahmad Hilmi

Afterword & Notes

This was a fun experiment. I'm finishing with less then two minutes left, because I can't write anything useful or substantial since it's too hard to think of stuff! Anyway, this ended up being very one-trick, but I think it's a pretty cool dark fantasy/OSR-styled fantasy setting. I love swamps in games and wish the “classic” wasn't just evil place with a monster. Though that's probably one of the reasons I like it.

Anyway, next time I do this, (if I do it at all) I might generate more stuff. I tried very hard to not write too specific here in both detail and ideas; want to keep this pretty reasonable. And there you have it- a fantasy setting built in under 40 minutes!

PS- I can't take total credit for the Mudman. They were at least partially inspired by this post by WWCD, which is one of my all time favorites.

World Primers - 3 OSR Settings

Ever since I got into OSR style tabletop gaming, my appreciation of both rules and game design has grown. But in the tabletop gaming community that I have been in for a bit longer then that, I really enjoyed the worldbuilding aspects of the hobby. It's also one of the hardest parts of the hobby.

As experts will tell you; don't sit down and just worldbuild. It's better to discover or create the setting through play, fill out random tables and see what happens. Hell there is an implied setting based on the campaigns, rules, and monster encounters from the oldest of old school D&D. Even with that said though, I have a great love of creating interesting worlds.

However, unlike other people, I'll arrogantly declare that my method of creating the 'outline' of a setting is superior to the nitty gritty. I'm not too great with the details outside of play, I'd rather just make something very general with some interesting ideas, paint wide, and let the details fall into place, or let people imagine them themselves. This is more of a help to organize X content then anything else, that's essentially what these settings are. Generic fantasy ideas go in this setting, weird gonzo modern fantasy stuff go in this one, etc. Maybe you think this is a bad method of worldbuilding, or maybe you've never thought about it before. Either way.

As of right now, I have three primary settings that are focused around OSR style games. These are the ones I'm focusing on in terms of developing and creating content for, more or less, because I only create worlds for games and to set them in, not for the act of creating itself.

Atria(?) - Generic High Fantasy

The roads and wilds are dangerous places. Once the world was a formless place of creation and destruction, the Archons who inhabited it. As they danced and endlessly created and destroyed, a force called the Heku began to bind everything together in symbolic law, the wordless agreement on how things 'should' be. There was a great war between the Archons, who eventually split into Demons, Fae, the Gods, and other beings as well, greatly spent and weakened and fractured. The winner of the war was the Red God an evil God of control and power. The Gods created mortal beings, who could exist and live free under the Heku, not within it.

The mortal races change every other day I work on the setting, and mostly worship the Gods and other lawful Archons. The Red God is the darkest, most powerful God and ruler of all monsters. The Night of Sacrifice is one of his rules, and is core to the folk's beliefs, though not by choice. People live in small fortified villages and within carefully patrolled woodland areas; man must fight with the monstrous unknown constantly. Recovering treasure from dungeons is considered a great act; status and land and leadership are thrust upon those who prove themselves with steel, daring, or magic.

Recovering these stolen treasures from the Red God's children is the object of dungeon-delving. The people who dive them include three general classes. Dangerous include monsters, magic, cursed items, traps, and dying from boredom at this generic fantasy adventure-land.

Garden - Gonzo Modern Fantasy

Set in a city outside space and time, “Garden” as it has come to be called is the home of things lost and never found. Everyone came to Garden by accident. Long night driving on a forest road, and they suddenly ended up in an electric city in the trees. Depressed young people sometimes just wake up on its park benches- in a new city of opportunity. But once you're in Garden, you can never find your way home. The sun never comes out in Garden, it is a land of eternal night, but yet the native plants still grow. The darkness of the night hides terrifying monsters and the enigmatic members of the Torchlight society, insane men who prefer the woods to the calm electric lights of the city. Nobody knows where the power comes from.

Garden's level of technology is fiercely independent and anachronistic. People rumble around the city streets in tesla-coil powered hover cars but computer technology is essentially nonexistent. People fight with scrap metal weapons, called Chimneys, and without a true leader ruling the city it is essentially a libertarian anarchist paradise. As long as you got the money, the cars, and the guns you can control some of the city's neighborhoods; but nobody has united the whole thing. Garden itself is the only known place of safety and civilization in the dark alternate world it resides- its refugees from other worlds are alien and strange as well as human. Psychic powers awaken here, and those born in Garden have never known what the sun feels like.

Finding treasure and navigating gang territories are core to the gameplay. 'Sweeps', the slang term for adventurers due to the fact they tune their own guns and clear buildings floor by floor, use arsenals of weapons and some have psychic abilities. Dangers include mad psychics, weird technology and animals “imported” from other dimensions and lots of very mean people with guns.

Perfected Tyranny – Soft, Pulpy Science Fiction

In the vast oceans of space, the greatest minds of some long dead race or world came together to create the perfect form of government, the one thing that could keep biological life alive forever; they created Perfected Tyranny. The BICOs (Biological, Intelligent, Communal, Organism) had banded together to create the one thing that could protect them from the terror of the galaxy, the SICOs. (Solar, Intelligent, Communal, Organisms). SICO is pronounced 'psychos', and these faceless star beings hate all other forms of life, and so we went to war.

It is only through Perfected Tyranny or P.T. for short that the biological races can hope to wage war against such powerful energetic foes, and it is the only way for so many different races and worlds to be united. Using Hyperwave engines, you can create starships that travel many times faster then the speed of light, to explore the galaxy and to keep the peace between the BICOs. As best one can, anyway. Enforcers, space pirates, explorers, merchants, all exist and all swim the stars just to live, forever living in fear of the solar evil.

Going from planet to planet and achieving objectives, enforcing the law of PT or delving derelict ships and space stations are all goals that star explorers might go for. Those who ride the hyperwaves through the galaxy include a myriad of beings and backgrounds, scrabbling whatever technology they can. Dangers include depressurization, hostile worlds, alien tyrants, and light-beings read to cook you outside-in with their heat rays.