DShomshak

You will notice that the old motto of "To Serve and Protect" does not say who cops serve and protect. A cynical person might say it's the ruling class. And that though police are part of a wider "pacification project" to keep the wider populace sufficiently docile that they do not trouble their betters, a certain degree of random violence does not entirely displease some of the people in power. I have no proof, of course, just a nasty, suspicious mind. Dean Shomshak

Well, I spotted that some names were other names backwards, like "Rodne" was "Endor" backwards. Did n't get all the references, though. Dean Shomshak

And to think that back when NPR had the "Left, Right and Center" political talk show, David Frum was the designated conservative. But back then, "conservative" could mean something very different than it generally does now. Tangentially, I am reminded of a maxim from, IIRC, m'man William Blake, that a prophet is not someone who tells the future. That is merely a fortune-teller, a profession the Bible condemns. A prophet is a person who reminds us what was, is, and ever shall be true. Dean Shomshak

a) Always (though the players don't hear it until later). b) I try, though it can be sketchy if I'm in a rush to prep an adventure. c) I always stat out NPC heroes. Non-powered supporting cast, not so much. d) I like to have an illustration for villains and NPC heroes, but it's so much work (I am no artist) that I often can no longer manage this. Maps limited to sketches on notebook paper or, maybe, hex paper if I'm ambitious. Once in a while I've printed out pictures of real locations that become important for an adventure, such as the "Cathedral of Learning" in my adventure, "Wings Over Pittsburgh." e) I try to give each PC their own little vignette at the start of adventures, to show what else goes on their lives. One of my friends started it in his Champions campaign, and I think it works well regardless of game genre. Dean Shomshak

Let me say, after this Superdraft I will have to be much more creative and daring in the gods I design for my Fantasy settings. Thanks, all! Dean Shomshak

Science That Could Cause Origins Dept.: https://www.npr.org/2022/05/23/1100828758/study-finds-microscopic-life-in-830-million-year-old-crystal-and-it-might-be-ali Though reviving microbes sealed in a salt crystal for 830 million years could only result in a Lovecraftian monster. The scientists say they'll be careful, and anyway after 830 million years of missed coevolution the microbes would be so maladapted they couldn't possibly infect humans, that's just the sort of cocksure statements that scientists always make before The Horror Begins. (Though they also try to preempt fate by saying that yes, the situation sounds like something from a B movie. Not enough, I tell you!) Dean Shomshak

If I may be forgiven for stealing from Jenna K. Moran (formerly Rebecca Borgstrom): The Scripture of the Dancer Once there was a maiden... ...who stood in the center of every dance. Back then, she knew all the dances. She never missed a step. One day, she heard something in the music, as a singer dropped the beat. It taught her the joy of dancing poorly. She started dancing more and more awry. "Love has no rules," she said. -- Exalted: The Sidereals Interpret for yourself what the Lovers might have meant. Dean Shomshak

"...Or they'd mate," said the Lovers, with a speculative gleam in Their eyes. (These are not mutually exclusive) Dean Shomshak

Reminds me of the setting of the old D&D module, Dwellers of the Forbidden City, by Dave Cook. In that, there was a small, half-ruined, but still inhabited city in such a sinkhole. Dean Shomshak

It does, thank you. Dean Shomshak

Hold it. The point of Interference is to modify someone else's choice. But to completely unmake and replace it? I think our Esteemed Commissioner should take a long, hard look at this. I see possibilities for it to break these "games of divinity." Dean Shomshak

Scott brings up a core issue. What does Clerical Magic do? Or not do? How does it operate? What does it look like? I suggest answering those questions first. Then work out how to represent the results (or something close) in Hero System. As usual, I will recommend Lois McMaster Bujold's "World of the Five Gods" for its examples of supernatural power that is very much not Generic Fantasy Adventurer Magic. A shaman, a sorcerer, and a saint do quite different things. Dean Shomshak

I haven't read Book of the Empress, but this passage in CV1 imight be worth remembering: "Istvatha V'han carries herself with a regal grace at most times, but her facade sometimes cracks when her followers let her down, or someone challenges or insults her. She doesn't tolerate frustration well, and if sufficiently angered may lash out in a fit of destructiveness that obliterates entire planets." (CV1, p. 60) I think a reasonable person, even seeing all the benefits that Istvatha V'han's rule brings most of the time, might balk at having the survival of their entire world in the hands of an absolute monarch with no curb on her temper tantrums. Though for some people, that erratic temper may enhance their reverence. Dean Shomshak

Addendum: Turkish Kurdistan also happens to be the water-tower of the Middle East. It holds the headwaters of the Tigris, the Euphrates, and several other rivers. For both irrigation and hydropower, Turkey's central government is extremely reluctant to lose control of this region. Dean Shomshak

Sniped by LL, but I'll finish anyway. Not really an expert, but IIRC the issues between Turkey and the Kurds go back to the abolition of the Ottoman Empire. On the one hand, Kemal Ataturk's crew wanted to create a nation-state: Turkey, as the country of the Turks. Except... the territory included a wide area inhabited by Kurds, who insist they are not Turks on the factually irrefutable grounds that they aren't. They speak a completely different language (though Kurdish has absorbed many loan words from Turkish); they've lived in more or less their current territory since at least 2000 BCE. So when the Turkish government declared that there was no such thing as Kurds, they were "Mountain Turks" and had to learn Turkish, some Kurds got upset enough they turned to violence. As LL mentions, Kurds exist in various other countries as well, creating a fairly sizeable movement that wants to lop off parts of those countries to create their own country of Kurdistan. Leaving aside the justice of Kurdish rebels' cause or methods, Erdogan has shown he cannot abide any sort of pluralistic compromise on, well, anything. A rational person might think, "Hey, if I can make nice with our Kurdish population and make them feel they have a stake in my government, I can use them to give my country influence in other countries with Kurdish minorities." But the mythological basis of nationalism does not permit such a pragmatic course. Nationalism: It's just not been a good thing. Dean Shomshak

The NYTimes podcast "The Daily" offers a brief guide to the "Great Replacement" conspiracy theory used by white supremacist mass shooters... and those who inspire them, such as Tucker Carlson. https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/16/podcasts/the-daily/buffalo-shooting-replacement-theory.html?action=click&module=audio-series-bar&region=header&pgtype=Article Dean Shomshak

I'm sure she knows it's useless. It was still worth doing. Dean Shomshak Just heard on All Things Considered: Ben Franklin's Handy Home Abortion Guide. Because abortion "isn't deeply rooted in American culture." https://www.npr.org/2022/05/16/1099244635/for-ben-franklin-abortion-was-basic-arithmetic Dean Shomshak

Like new Shimmer, which is both a floor wax AND a dessert topping, Ghostbusters managed to be both wacky comedy AND supernatural horror. A truly incredible achievement. Bairtd Searles, the movie and TV reviewer for Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction when it came out, compared the initial "play the supernatural for laughs" to the frothy fantasies of Thorne Smith, sliding seamlessly to something worthy of H. P. Lovecraft. He was gobsmacked. Dean Shomshak

Well, it was implied by the illustration. The Lovers are not displeased. (I almost included it in the description myself, but it's better for Chroma to ordain it.) Dean Shomshak

“How can you refuse me?” demanded Lissarka of Zyrrhene, by some called the Queen of Pain. “ What can Vanth offer you that I cannot, ten times over? Join me as my consort and you shall have wealth, you shall have power, you shall have me. Am I not beautiful? A thousand men have died seeking my favor, and I offer myself — to you!” Doral shrugged in his chains, setting lean muscle rippling. A pitying smile softened his chiseled face with a dimple. He made rags and steel fetters look good. “I don’t deny you’re pretty, he told the liosalfar Queen of Pain. “In a cheap, needy sort of way. And I’m sure you’re perfectly adequate in bed. But you can’t imagine what I have with Vanth. I loved her the moment I saw her, more than life itself, and I know she feels the same about me. I love the way she sings. I love the way she wears her hat. I love a thousand things about her. I want to raise a family with her, grow old together, see grandchildren. Do you even know what I’m talking about? No, of course not. You can’t. And for that, I pity you.” The smile twisted, turned acid. “But not much.” Lissarka’s golden skin paled in her rage. “So be it. My holy master is right. I might have betrayed him for you — but instead I shall offer Him your life to show Him my love, and make me a vessel for His power!” She took a long, jeweled dagger from the golden plate held by a kneeling slave. “Xarn Tarsus, accept this sacrifice of his heart, and mine! I am yours, Lord, only — Put out that candle!” A hundred guards, nobles, and assorted sycophants turned to goggle at the brownie that scurried along the temple’s baseboards, a small candle in one hand and a cleaning cloth in the other. The candle gave a point of warm yellow light among the shadows cast by pillars in the dim, colorless glow of the zikku-crystals set in the fane’s ceiling. Doral grinned. Right on time, he thought. The brownie goggled back, then bowed deeply. “Wot? Sorry, Your Queeniness, so sorry, it’s just so hard to see back here, an’ I remember there was a bit o’ stain on the floor, some blood musta splashed a long way, of course I’ll put it out…” Too late. The little flame burst up and out in a red-gold blaze, the curls of fire at the edges momentarily looking like a ring of roses. Out leaped four figures: a female faun with a wooden staff and a necklace bearing a pendant of two strips of wood bent around each other, a female ghoul in a black robe with a cozier made of bone, a brilliantly hued dragon that swooped between two pillars to coil in the air, and a giant dwarf in plate-and-chain armor, carrying a massive, long-handled axe. “Ow!” the giant dwarf said as he bonked his head on the underside of the balcony running the chamber’s length. “Impossible!” gasped Queen Lissarka. “Only one can walk the Flame Labyrinth! You can’t take people with you! It’s, it’s, it’s against the rules!” The faun priestess grinned. “Love doesn’t follow rules! Some lovers can bring friends.” “And this fortress-fane is not as hidden as you thought,” said the ghoul in a whisper that somehow echoed to the furthest reaches of the chamber. “The workers you slew after they built it were happy to reveal its secrets. The rebels are on their way. And the laser-cats are with them.” “Enough talk!” growled the giant dwarf as he stooped and squeezed between pillars to enter the temple’s nave. He cradled his axe, struck a chord and bellowed, “Death to false metal!” At the same time, Lissarka screamed “Guards! Guards! Kill them!” And battle was joined. The strings of the giant dwarf’s axe hummed and howled as he swung it, while severed arms and heads bounced off the strings in a counterpoint of doom. The satyr priestess moved among the guards like a dream of dance, laughing with joy as her staff whirling about to trip legs and smash into faces. The ghoul dipped her crozier toward the ground as she whispered a prayer to Mania, pulling ghosts from the darkest bowels of Hekk and sending them to claw and gibber at guards. Troops of archers pounded out onto the balconies, only to find the dragon snapping at them with its jaws and slapping with its tail as its pearl darted about them, strobing in ever-changing hues to blind and distract them. Nor was Doral idle: He kicked a foppish courtier in the groin, used his toes to pull a stiletto from his belt as the elf collapsed, flipped it up to catch it in one hand and began picking the lock of his fetters. The moment he was free, Doral hurled the stiletto at Lissarka. His aim was not true: The blade merely drove into her shoulder. The gleaming golden skin split to release a serpentine creature that hissed, “You shall all pay for thisss!” Several elven courtiers reeled back in shock and revulsion. Unnoticed in the melee, a single advisor scurried back into the shadows. The koutpa that had been Queen Lissarka caught up a rapier from a slain noble, spat on the blade, and drew a circle of blood and venom on the marble pavement. “You win nothing!” she hissed. “I shall return, and— urk!” Doral too had collected a rapier, and driven it through her throat from behind. The Queen of Pain sank, dying, to the floor. The remaining guards broke and ran. The remaining nobles and sycophants threw down their weapons, dropped to their knees, and cried for mercy. The unnoticed advisor slipped out a hidden door. The four heroes gathered around the man they had crossed a world (and two moons, and Hekk) to rescue. All now bore several small wounds, which the faun priestess began bandaging. Vanth asked, “Are you hurt, love?” “A scratch here and there,” Doral replied shakily, and chuckled slightly. “Darling, we really have to stop meeting like this.” It was an old, old joke with them. The ghoul smiled back, then pulled a bottle from her belt, swished her mouth and spat. And then she was in his arms. ---------- With apologies to Mania: What lacks the scurvy, lack-brained Demiurge Who can invent no other doom but must Repeat, as wretched penny-a-liners do, This horror staled by time-long usage? Why, For variation’s sake, if for naught else, Mark not with immortality one man, One rose, one star, one duad of blest lovers?… — Clark Ashton Smith, “Contra Mortem” Mythic Monster or Guardian: The Blessed Lovers. In all the World and its moons, two people have a love story that never ends. They have borne many names. They can grow old, but never die of old age. When one dies before the other, the other finds their new incarnation — and at the moment of that meeting, the partner remembers their former lives and their love. They have been all sapient species, in every combination of geners, whether by reincarnation or by the Flowers of Rebirth — even cats and koutpas; but whatever their form, their souls belong to the Lovers. Or so goes the tale. Some believe the Blessed Lovers are quasi-mortal avatars of their god. Others suggest the Blessed Lovers are a role or a mantle of power the Lovers grant to mortals of exceptional passion and devotion. Only the gods could know for sure, and they do not reveal each other’s core secrets. Time and again, though, pairs of mortals have achieved incredible deeds for love. They have toppled kingdoms, or founded new ones; slain heroes and monsters alike; inspired others with their devotion, or appalled with the taboos they broke. Rarely do they meet raw power with raw power (though they call gods into themselves with uncanny ease); but they have skills acquired through a hundred lifetimes, and seem to succeed no matter how foolhardy the risks. One way or another, people who try to keep the Blessed Lovers apart usually end up regretting it. And people do try to keep them apart. They are magnets for mortals of overweening ambition and power, especially those who would push a single god’s influence out of balance with the rest. Such folk easily become obsessed with the pair, lusting for one and mad with jealousy at the other. Perhaps the Blessed Lovers clash most often with the minions of power-hungry Xarn Tarsus, but they have also brought new order to lands ravaged by brigandage and anarchy — the worst manifestations of Thrum . They have saved lands from famine and plague that would deliver them to Mania, and balked the vengeance of Olandria. But in so doing, they have also many times turned strangers into friends, from individuals to nations. Love may not truly conquer all, but it’s risky to bet against the Blessed Lovers. And perhaps the most dangerous thing about the Blessed Lovers is that you never know who they’ll be this time around. -------------- And with that, I'm done! Dean Shomshak

In a superhero setting, this would have origin potential. Dean Shomshak

You mean, something like this? BOX: The Capulus The Capulus, in Exordium, is one of Thalassene’s oldest and holiest temples. The small, irregular shrine occupies the site where King Talis chose Manakel as the city’s patron. Gouges in the rock show where Manakel’s brother Barakel, god of storms, angrily blasted Talis’ retinue with lightning, while an ancient date palm supposedly grew at the command of the third divine brother, the orchard-god Serakel. The Capulus also holds King Talis’ tomb. Legend says that one band of Marolici pirates managed to invade Talisthanos. They tried to loot the Capulus of the coral and pearls Talis gained from his merfolk allies and took to his grave. Instead, the outraged king rose from his tomb and slaughtered the invaders. When the victorious Plenary general Phrosander heard the legend, he said, “We are not pirates,” and ordered the tomb left inviolate. So it has remained. Dean Shomshak Completely fair, since so much SF is thinly veiled ripoffs from Fantasy! Dean Shomshak

I have no objection, and if it helps other participants I'm all for it. Dean Shomshak

Passion can strike anyone, directed at anyone. This often angers parents who arranged just the right marriage for their son or daughter, who falls madly in love with that completely unsuitable other person. Or it angers the appointed guardians of caste-based societies, when individuals fall in love with people of the wrong caste. Sometimes the consequences are more than personal, as when the wife or husband becomes besotted with someone new and runs off, or the wealthey person squanders it all on a paramour, or a kidnapped wife results in the launching of a thousand ships. Some folk attribute this random insanity of love to the Blind Archer, a child or servant of the Lovers. The Blind Archer shoots arrows that cause their target to fall madly in love -- but no knowledge of where they should strike. They might think the Blind Archer looks something like this: (Spoilered again because some people might find it suggestive, even though I'm quite sure nothing naughty is actually visible.) They're wrong. There is no Blind Archer. The Lovers rouse or cool passion as They will, and nobody knows why they choose as They do. Maybe not even Them. This is not the Mythic Monster or Guardian for the Lovers. I thought at first it might be, before I thought of something I hope is better. But it's such a cool image that I had to share it, as part of the mythology for the god. I hope to get the actual Mythic Monster/Guardian on Saturday, to wrap up my part in this. The flavor text is unfortunately too long to finish tonight. Dean Shomshak

I haven't done my Mythic Monster/Guardian yet, but I hope to post it by day's end. Bonus Domain/Option: Music and Dance. (I expressed interest in this earlier, but wasn't sure if I could take it or if someone else wanted it. No one has claimed it yet, so I do.) For fauns, certainly, music and dance are inextricably linked. Their hooves supply percussion to the music for which they dance, and they dance a lot. The rhythms of sound and motion invite people to join them. The result is unified action without force of compulsion, a bringing together in joy. Dancing is an excellent form of courtship. Hymns connect mortals to their gods. Trance possession is most easily attained in a revel combining both music and dance. And work songs for a gift to Egalitus. The labor shall not weary as much when guided by song, the hands with their tools moving in rhythm to make a form of dance. Though Xarn Tarsus quickly installed drummers in the war-galleys of Xar Tarsun to supply a guiding rhythm for the slaves at their oars. Well, the Lovers are not a god of good and evil. Dean Shomshak