Running woolly mammoths into pits
Painting mural of the hunt on cave walls
Fire!
The Wheel
Domesticating wheat
Transition from hunter/gatherer to agrarian society
etc.
I think it has been pretty well documented that the suicide of Zach's daughter had little-to-nothing to do with his departure from the project. That was merely the cover story given to the public.
Oh, and since everyone is proudly displaying their battle scars needle marks, I got my vaccine this morning. J&J, single dose needed. I got it at about 10:00am today. No major effects yet, though, I have yet to go to sleep and have no idea what I'll feel like in the morning. I remember my last flu shot gave me some frightening symptoms for a way, which soon passed.
Quite the chemist, and even a rumor he studied magic. Norman works the back end, supplying the bar with assorted interesting poisons. Superpowers won't let you get drunk? You'd be amazed what can happen at this bar.
Indeed, the World of Darkness (in all its incarnations) could be considered Urban Fantasy as easily as Horror, at least for some games. (Vampire intrinsically leaving more to horror; Mage, I think, lending itself better to fantasy.) I've noodled around with various schemes to rework the setting to replace what I consider the stupider elements. Like, I really don't appreciate the "Science is Eeeevil (unless it's kewl hackers or wacky Mad Science)" riff in Mage: the Ascension. Anyone can fall prey to the temptation to ram their vision of the truth down other people's throats, so I don't see why the Technocracy should be the designated villains.
I also noodled around with an Urban Fantasy concept based on creatures of myth living in the modern world, inspired somewhat by the Dresden Files, Grimm and such ilk, with a nod to T. S. Eliot's The Waste Land, called Unreal City. It never got much past the precis, though, which is short enough I might as well post it here:
Unreal City
Swarming city, city filled with dreams,
Where the specter in broad daylight accosts the passer-by.
— Charles Baudelaire, “The Seven Old Men”
Long ago, the Gods left the World. The heavens became throneless. Gone, Odin, Zeus and Ellil; gone, Indra and Amun-Re.
Death held no punishment or reward. Gone, the Buddha-Lands and the prisons of the Yama Kings. Gone, the Fields of Elysium and the caverns of Duat. Gone, Yahweh and Heaven. Gone, Satan and Hell.
Gone, the palaces of Olympus, the halls of Asgard and the celestial city of the Shen. Gone, the dreamlands of Faerie and the mountains of Kaf. Gone, gone, all gone.
In their place was the Wasteland: the Desolation of Abomination. The place that is no place. The desert of chaos from whence come horrors.
But not all the creatures of myth left with the Gods.
Some could not bear to leave the World. They could not abandon their sacred groves and grottoes. Perhaps some could not forsake mortal lovers or cherished victims. Some were exiled by Gods who cursed and condemned them. And some maybe just didn’t get the word in time.
Whatever the reason, the World still held faeries and demons. Mortals still believed in Gods. They believed in the lesser creatures, too. This was not always to the benefit of supernatural folk. Jinn and giants, satyrs and sidhe were mighty compared to mortals… but not so mighty that determined mortals could not kill them. The exiles of myth learned to hide their nature and pose as mortals themselves.
Yes, they feared mortals; but they feared the Wasteland more. Dreadful things came from the Wasteland, monsters that bore implacable malice to the creatures of myth. The folk of legend gave names to some: Apep, Leviathan, Typhon the Terrible. Most remain nameless, each one as freakish and deadly as the last.
The best defense against the horrors of the Wasteland was to avoid their notice; to veil one’s power and live among mortals, lost among their greater numbers. And so, caught between two fears, the remaining creatures of myth became the Hidden Folk.
Over the centuries, some Hidden Folk surrendered. They hid among mortals so well they forgot what they were, bred with mortals and, in time, died like them; though their blood continued in their changeling offspring.
Others surrendered to the Wasteland and became monsters as mad and cruel as the horrors it spawned.
But some Hidden Folk learned to build homes between the Wasteland and the World: tiny realms set apart, connected to the World but not part of it. Pockets of myth survived in faerie mounds and hidden caves, groves reached by secret paths and palaces beneath the sea. Here the Hidden Folk could show their true forms, keep their old customs, use their powers. Still, their little worlds were fragile. Too much magic could fray them and expose them to the Wasteland.
Over the centuries, the Hidden Folk left isolated rural retreats and gathered in mortal cities. Greater numbers of mortals meant greater risk of discovery; but also greater concealment from the Wasteland. Moreover, when their sanctums and adyta were close enough they could link to form realms larger than any one of the Hidden Folk could construct alone. The Hidden Folk built towns of their own woven invisibly among the mortal homes and shops, streets and sewers: the Unreal City.
A few mortals, or once-mortals, also live in the Unreal City. Ghosts, denied a Heaven or Hell, may find refuge among the Hidden Folk. Some mortals become infected with supernatural power or actively seek to lose their mortality; the various sorts of vampires and shapeshifters offer notable examples. Other mortals learn to cast spells and so may treat with Hidden Folk as equals. Indeed, these once-human creatures or spellcasting mortals are often considered Hidden Folk as well. Still other mortals simply learn that creatures of myth and magic still exist, and how to find them. Clued-in mortals may become friends or minions of the Hidden Folk… or deadly and determined enemies: witch-hunters, ghost-breakers, vampire killers and exorcists.
The many and diverse sorts of Hidden Folk do not love each other. Whatever their conflicts, however, they agree on one absolute law: Mortals must not know. The Unreal City must remain unseen; the Hidden Folk must stay hidden. Any mortal who learns the great secret must be coopted, discredited or slain. Anyone who threatens to expose the Unreal City must be destroyed.
In the 21st century, the secret becomes harder to keep. Millions of unsleeping camera eyes watch the mortal streets. The Internet sends video around the World at the speed of light. Fortunately, most mortals have eyes but do not see the wonders and horrors living among them. But for how long? How long until undeniable evidence emerges that humans are not the sole intelligence on Earth? When they know their dreams and specters walk among them?
And that to some of those creatures of myth, humans are prey?
What, then, of the Hidden Folk and the Unreal City?
--------------
Dean Shomshak
I've posted about this general idea earlier but I can't find the thread. Currently there's a reddit thread about character subclasses players wish existed--in other words, character concepts 5e can't (currently) handle. Here's a list of highlights:
I'm mainly posting this to gloat (and I'm in a 5e campaign right now!) but I thought it was interesting how 5e players continue to limit themselves to the existing class based framework. So many of my FH characters have been impossible in D&D or Pathfinder--the necromancer, the stretchy mystical monk, the halberd-wielding earth mage. What about summoners? Characters who are cursed or melded with some magical artifact? Shapeshifters? Can we even do the Witcher in 5e? What other common fantasy archetypes can we do in FH and not 5e?
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