Thursday, May 23, 2019

Trash Dragons

Colorful, an oil slick on
shallow puddle of our logic,
they noisome slide on starlit nights
via filth-robed wretched might.

So many of the rpg rituals I've been writing lately are mostly self abasement, degradation. Which I suspect says more about my kinks than anything else.

“Welcome to shrug city, P.”

I'm not quite this gross. Just to be clear.


(Quick note: anybody can do magic [mostly via weird ritual] in my home game. Wise Witches are usually better at it, though. If you're more traditionally frpg minded, only magic users or chaos aligned clerics prolly can do this.)

The ritual is simple, and relatively safe. Assuming dysentery and food poisoning don't kill ya in the first couple of days.

Required components:
  • A Trash Dragon's True Name
    • Currently 17 [of 49] remain unsummoned.
    • When discovered 2/6 chance name is still usable.
  • An old midden heap or cesspit
  • Willingness to discard one's standing, to debase oneself to an unconcerned bit of refuse.
Sign of Unbalanced Orbs

First, strip naked before the trash pile at midday. You are nothing and have nothing but trash, refuse, garbage.

Second, prepare yourself for anti-ablution. Carve the Sign of Unbalanced Orbs into your flesh with any convenient bit of garbage.

Third, enter into the midden, your new home. Unwash yourself, taking care to crust filth particularly on your unhallowed wounds.

Fourth, declare yourself “...not but trash!” to all passersby.

Fifth, leave not your midden for at least 7 days.

Sixth, eat not but what you find; accept no alms and touch nothing clean nor blessed.

Seventh, on a New Moon at midnight scream “Serpent of Earth by Man Refused, I call ye. As, from, and to the filth, I call ye. Refuse me not! I am dung. I am trash. I am thee! Come to me! [true name 3×].”

In game terms, Save vs Poison or die from infection 1d6 days into the ritual. (Prime secret DM roll territory here.)

When the dragon is called, Save vs Magic or become the dragon rather than binding them to your will. You're a filthy chaos beast now. Them's the breaks.

Successful summoning grants a permanent +4 to all Poison saves. The dragon will consider the summoner an important advisor and trusted friend, almost a parent. However, while the dragon will usually obey the summoner, they don't have to. Their primary purpose and desire is to befoul fresh and clean things.

about them big ol’ filth lizards

The “flesh” is semisolid, half compost, half spoiled meat. Sinuous, they swim through the air like an eel. Rot and disease festers always in their wake.

Trash Dragons are 15-20’ long with mass equivalent to an adult tiger. Coloration: mildew black, wormy apple brown, pork slime green, fungal purple, cockroach sable, etc.

stat block shiz
Trash Dragon, 3+3 HD, AC as Chain, 1 attack, Gross Bite 1d8+3, Move: Sinuous and Quick.
Special: 2× per day, Fetid Breath -- 1d6 damage, 70’ radius. All (except dragon and summoner) must Save vs Poison or vomit uncontrollably for 1d8 rounds.
Special: 1× per day, Unbirth -- Trash Dragon can transform into a Trash Pile. Trash Dragon will reform at midnight.

more SkipJunkies][MeatRunners

“Somehow, it’s easy to forget the shape of a place. Spend 12 Skips and two tin-livers away, and ya forget how Entrada is built like a shrug. Lotsa places look like 10,000 claws all tearing at the sky. Only Entrada looks like it don’t know, and it don’t care. See, Entrada had something like ¾ of a livable atmosphere to begin with; most places don’t. Think that’s why most places are so damn vertical. Entrada got room to spread. Out towards it’s edge, Entrada got that big ole GRaTS [Glide Rail Transportation System] ring, built up pretty damn high. The nearby buildings and structures sorta match that height, then they get shorter as real estate competition lessens. It’s even worse over by Willkommen, that huge fucking Space Elevator. (Thing is goddamn BIG if you ain’t ever seen it. It’s like six shopping malls or some shit, going up and down the grav-well few times daily. A not-small spaceport’s up top, too.) Anyway, you got that big round head (exo-docks), the neck (Enter City proper, Elevator) and a wave of indifferent shoulders either side (GRaTS). This place don’t know. This moon don’t care. Ya know, don’t hear nobody else talk about it. Maybe it’s just me. Think I was pretty wrecked on San Pedro when I first washed up here, to be honest…”

Green = Inhabitable
Orange = Variably Inhabitable
Red = Uninhabitable

Monday, May 13, 2019

Play Report: SkipJunkies][MeatRunners #1

SkipJunkies][MeatRunners first Playtest.

(SkipJunkies][MeatRunners is a far future, medium-boiled scifi game. In it, you play drug addicts exploited for the most dangerous jobs anywhere: Skip Piloting [FTL travel] and Narcwhal Hunting [in the Infinimeat]. Also, Drugs for XP.)

Merb played by Abbi
My Hot Reality played by Anxy
Joe played by Tony

Awoke in an alley, behind a Daygo™ bodega, on Entrada.
(Entrada being a very old Colony centered around an enormous space elevator, the Willkommen. Basically a complex the size of 3 shopping malls goes up and down the gravity well several times a day. More or less it is 3 malls.)

Meat Runner by Alex Mayo,
I'm making this game/setting with In Search of Games.
Shit that happened in probably chronological order:
  • Vaguely remembered looking for work night before. Note taped to Joe's forehead with 3 jobs on it. Skip Job, a Meat Run, and and Robbery. They chose Meat Run.
  • Met Jak Horner at the Buckt o' Blüd, a spoopy-darkness metal club.
    • Agreed   with no negotiation to the job b/c Joe was jonesing for something speedy real bad.
    • It was a “Vulture” run for Condor Inc., swooping in to complete a failed organ haul.
    • Jak kept bugging them to remember “Ol' Jak” if they get chosen for an after-job survey. He “tossed in” a free Quick-Cell Lazer. Even printed out a 6' long receipt with their contract on it.
  • They grab some cheap, cooked grub from auto-vendors and head towards the center of town. Reality manages to offload a synth mescaline pill for a few Standards.
  • Outfitted by some asshole with long, slicked-back, blonde hair. They qualify for hardsuit fully environmental armor, 2 Assault Rifles, and 1 telescopic 6-12' titanium spear.
  • Drone delivered to the coordinates, portal-wound explosively torn into space, fired through fountain of blood into a vein about the size of 6 lane interstate.
  • Joe poorly piloted the red-blood-cell shaped craft, but managed to fire the anchor at exactly the right moment.
  • They headed out and into the downed Narcwhal (imagine a flea-narwhal hybrid covered in clear silica plates, the size of an office building, swimming through a reality of infinite flesh) through previously inserted jaw-jack. Two large compressed gas containers on either side of the jack.
  • Once inside the huge mouth cavity, they're immediately ambushed by a Scavanger Phage (silica-crab-virus looking thing) but quickly murder it. Merb takes some of it's dark blue inner goo.
  • Headed  deeper into the throat, past jiggly dangling meat curtains.
  • Did not further investigate a huge, moaning stomach monster in the left most flesh-chamber. Didn't head further down the trachia-hall which veered left a bit. Quickly gave up on the epiglottis-flaps-with-spikes filled flesh-tunnel (despite the virtual certainty an organ would be found there). Rather, Joe uses the spear to work a giant sphincter open, and they pop on through.
  • A small flesh chamber on the right was ignored, and they continued down the colon-ish passage until it opened up.
  • Finally, payday. Two organs hung from jiggling strands about 12' above the squishy floor. Between the Junkie Scum and the organs, 6 Bear-sized stomach monsters were rubbing on each other and making sad noises.
  • Joe held 'em back with the spear, more or less. Merb and Reality mowed 'em down. Merb took a minor hit from a acidic-mucilage whip, but armor so w/e.
  • Got the organs, but now some crazy-loud fart-roar keeps intoning back the way they'd came. Desperate looking about the dead end reveals a SECRET SPHINCTER! Reality shoots it open.
  • On the other side they grabbed another organ and crawled on down a stretchy 2' wide flesh tube in the floor. It went on for an unfortunate long time. Lights on their armor made mostly useless as they squirmed uncertainly ahead. Contact mics on outside of their suits created an unholy splorch and pop cacophony. It's like 150' long passage, but they did come out behind the HUGE fucking stomach beast heading to where they'd been.
  • Successfully eluded an ambush by waiting antibodies outside the narcwhal and hauled balls back to the ship.
  • It's decided they didn't wanna hang out to try and jerry-rig a retort to steal the good drugs from any of the 3 organs.
  • Came back, got paid. They did get the lazer rifle as promised, but not the equally expensive battery.
  • Merb and Reality struck out, but Joe scored 9 bags of H, in Welcome City Proper!
  • That's 3 bags each, 80 xp / bag.
  • My brain felt sweaty from imagining so hard. We stopped.
  • It was fun-on-a-bun!
Edit: For a little deeper look into what the game is like, take a look at the CHARACTER CREATION GUIDE for my campaign. The color piece on the first page is by Corey Brin; they make amazin' arts y'all!