Atlantean Magic and Demons, care of some schmuck back in the early 1900's

When I say 'schmuck' I mean that he is roundly unsung and forgotten now, although in his own time he was fairly influential.  Elliot O'Donnell.  Backstory - so, I swore to +James Bennett that my goal for the year was to refrain from reading anything written after 1900 this calendar year.  Believe it or not, I've done pretty good so far, but this little gem was read by me back in November, and I've been thinking about it, mulling it over.  You know, sort of sacrificing tomcats and drams of my own blood in the moonlight.  That kind of thing.

This book, The Sorcery Club, starts off neat - with maybe some inside information about the Celtic-Mayan-Egyptian connection for Atlantis' remnants in the Yucatan.  It's pretty plausible if you're on ketamine or else a Serpent Man masquerading as a human.  There's a history of the downfall of Atlantis after the rise of its Black Magicians, how to actually become an Atlantean Black Magician by trucking with the last of the wordly spirits, and then it kind of just degenerates into a late 1800s/pre-War era morality tale and romance.  It's a complicated love quadrangle with super-powerful perverts on one side and some plucky country Englishmen and -women on the other.

This is what you get if you put in "plucky English country folk" to Google's image search

All things considered, it's kind of cool I guess.  You get a rundown of the spirits (good and bad) as recognized by the sorcerous Atlanteans, and then some really sketchy and implausible restrictions on Black Magician behavior.  It boils down to : DONT STICK YOUR MEAT WHERE YOU MAKE YOUR BREAD

Chapter 2 has a brief breakdown of Atlantis, its reliance upon the interchange between men and spirits, and the pre-religious feelings of Atlanteans. Also, how Atlantis fell.

Chapter 5 has some great (read: mediocre) poetry about the various spirits that the Atlanteans had deals with.  Here's the poetry in question:

"I am not sure of that," Hamar said, and after a brief pause began to repeat these words —

"Morbas from the mountains,
Where flow malignant fountains

We are ready for you—Come!

Vampires from the passes,

Where grow blood-sucking grasses,

We are ready for you—Come!

Vice Elementals pretty

Give ear unto our ditty

We are ready for you—Come!

Planetians, forms so fearful,

We inform you, eager, tearful,

We are ready for you—Come!

Clanogrians, things of sorrow.

Postpone not till to-morrow,

We are ready for you—Come!

Barrowvians, shades seclusive,

Be not to us exclusive,

We are ready for you—Come!

Earthbound spirits of the Dead

Approach with grim and noiseless tread—

We are ready for you—Come!"

(footnote: According to Atlantean ideas these spirits were:—Vice Elementals; Morbas (or Disease Elementals); Clanogrians (or malicious family ghosts, such as Banshees, etc.); Vampires; Barrowvians, i. e. a grotesque kind of phantasm that frequents places where prehistoric man or beast has been interred; Planetians, i. e. spirits inimical to dwellers on this earth that inhabit various of the other planets; and earthbound spirits of such dead human beings as were mad, imbecile, cruel and vicious, together with the phantasms of vicious and mad beasts, and beasts of prey.—(Eliot O'Donnell's note.))

Morbas, Vampires, Vice Elementals, Planetians, Clanogrians, Barrowvians, and the Earthbound Spirits of the Dead.  Good stuff, I guess.  The whole process of becoming an Atlantean Black Magician is laid out in grisly detail - one almost wonders if Mr. Eliot hadn't at least tried it.  His own backstory is pretty spooky and there for the interested.  He wrote many more books than are easily available today, but a good handful of them are available at Gutenberg and might be useful to interested parties in the RPG community.  Like me.  Maybe once my other project is done I will put out a sourcebook of Elliot O'Donnell critters and spells etc.  Sort of a poor man's Vance or something.

Peoria Plague Redux - don't breathe the vapors, Garfunkel!

I am a fan of radio drama; old/new/whatever

We have a thing here on Sunday nights "the Big Show" on WAMU that has a good number of old fashioned 1940s and 50s stuff. Johnny Dollar. Dragnet. Occasional comedies.

So also, I love all things zombi - undead is a big theme in my RPG games; I don't know why. They are wrong and easy to slay and it's like you're doing the universe a favor and setting things a-right. Nobody can argue the ethics of putting down the undead.

The Peoria Plague was a thing in 1971 or so, apparently produced by this radio station as an homage to War of the Worlds and Romero's Night of the Living Dead.

I tried to listen to this bit of radio history a couple of times and the muddy audio killed me.  I'm not good at audio sorcery, but I chopped out a great deal of noise, slowed it down a notch or two so the announcer doesn't sound hilariously tinny and awful, and reduced the amount of pop n' click.  Thanks, Audacity beta 1.3 from a couple of years ago (my current version)

I don't know if it helps, but it might be slightly better to listen to for you, if you're into that kind of thing.  I find it still breaks down in the middle, mostly since it appears to have been recorded by someone pointing a mic at a radio speaker in a room with an AC or fan in the background, on a reel to reel machine, and to my untrained ears it sounds as if they kept fiddling with the placement.

The proper way to do it would be to have some clever audio technician gently caress it in some crazy high fidelity audio cleaning suite and do it in separate bits, since the noise profile is slightly different throughout.  I have some other software packages I might use to REALLY crank out changes, but this is a part time hobby and nothing I'm innately good at or highly interested in.

Anyways, if you're into Zombies, Simon and Garfunkel, or both (and who isn't, I ask you?), I offer you this:

GOD BLESS YOU PLEASE, MRS. ZOMBIE ROBINSON

Before you get all HEY MAN I CANT HERE THIS PART IN THE MIDDLE, let me remind you that I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I did get some of the fan noise out, since it's an easy filter to muck around with.

Bonus, if you made it this long into the damnable post, is a mix of the XCOM: Terror from the Deep introductory music with some high-end (but poorly utilized) samples of timpani, strings, and etc.  I stole the midi file from my own (totally legit) copy, plugged it into a Soundfont thing and used a marvelous orchestral sample soundfont, I don't know why I give it to you it's something of a personal project to me.

DAMN YOU TO HELL YOU ALIEN MENACE!

AFTER THE MOWER - RPG idea nugget

AFTER THE MOWER

so I was mowing the lawn today - we kinda live out in the middle of the woods and so mowing the lawn is an adventure. I'm allergic to every goddam thing out here and then some more stuff so I have this respirator mask on and I actually had to stop the mower for a second cause I thought I heard this deep breathing Darth Vader animal in the high weeds and it was me so I took a break and watched all the critters and had some water

So many bees and frogs and toads and snakes and spiders and who knows what I just turn into a fine red mist

Little things - life forms for whom I have the utmost respect cause fuck - life is rough and guys can come along and mow you into a sticky paste

You know what?  Me and my mower are sort of like the frog/bee/snake/mouse equivalent of Cthulhu. Apocalyptic heavy-duty demigod of awful destruction and I got to thinking about Ms. Jonathan Brisby and the little concrete block and that song and all the bees did this little dance and so I didn't mow the wildflowers since I felt real bad about the whole thing

I mean LAWN AESTHETICS vs CONTINUED BEE AND MOUSE and BUNNY HAPPINESS and there was this one nice little toad and I almost ran him over 3 times on accident and fuck I hope that guy is okay

Anyways, whatever anti-apocalyptic ritual (INCREASE ANIMAL EMPATHY DC 32) those bees did certainly did the job since I will give them a week or two to work out the wildflower kinks but I got to thinking about how you could have Twilight 2000 but instead of Eastern Europe it could be my backyard and instead of low-yield nukes it could be my mower (or it's really the landlady's, I guess) and instead of Czechs and Poles and German paramilitary it could be bees and little mouse people trying to make their way after the mower just comes and destroys everything arbitrarily and

Jesus it gets more depressing after that but if you throw in some Gamma World powers maybe it's not so bad for the widow Brisby. Like maybe she could influence rats and pick locks underwater

I don't know 

Man. How can I feel so bad about mowing the weeds that pass for a lawn around my house?

On a lighter note, I ended up with 15,000 or so steps

CLASSES: Mouse, Bee, Rat, Toad, Snake, Bunny

Psionics, low tech (man made junk - occasional rat-sized artifacts but these cannot be clearly explained). Simple rat- and mouse-centered magics

Bees have no penalties for terrain and actually play the whole hive organization but don't have access to magic and they're wimpy and prone to swatting

skill based: no levels. Maybe BRP based

Hex crawling

The typical tropes: relocate the warren/hive/concrete block from the meadow/woods/farm. Flee from predators. Find food 

Rabies (don't get me started on this one)

The difficulty lies in: does the cause of the pocky-clipse, is it a nice guy?  Stoic farmer? Steward of the woods? Money hungry developer? Is it a natural thing like a wild fire?  Is there any food left or is a total loss? just a temporary thing and the meadow will recover?

You could hex-map it out and roll the people in the hex as characters - do they respect bunnies or gas 'em?  Is that bad-ass snake that lives in hex 1203 psionic? A wizard? Or just a really good hunter?  Is she afraid of the guy that lives in the trailer, or can you literally watch her kill that guy? (This last bit came to me as I remembered stepping on Pygmy rattlers all the time when I was a woodpecker technician on Eglin Air Force Base - I still have the snake boots in the back closet)

I guess this is starting to sound like Bunnies and Burrows or something.  Hmm. Gonna have to look that up.

Growing Up and Changing the Way I Game

I am experiencing a thing.  I think maybe I'm playing RPGs like the boy I was, instead of like the man I am.  I don't know what to do about it.  I recognize at the moment that I am wistfully scribbling and toying with some ideas that appeal to me almost solely out of a misbegotten nostalgia for something that's dead and done. Dead and done back in like 1987 and then drawn out like weak butter into 1995.  I'm doing something because (at the moment) it's a framework for tension release and learning and vapid creativity, and I care about it because it's something I wish I could have done when I was like 12 or so...  It's ridiculous - I throw in references to old TV shows and games I played or wished I'd played.  Things I think you'll get, or hope you will, whoever you are, reader who probably already thinks a lot like I think.

But the next things I write and do and play (after I'm done with this one thing at the moment), if they are to be meaningful, they are going to require some introspection and growth and the unlocking of something else. To do that I need to unfetter my brain with the zip-ties of the 1980s and let my inner child and my current me cooperate instead of using my 12 year old self as a way to get out of the reality I'm in...  Things I kind of address in my humdrum non-Wizard/non-Knight existence, but don't make a good deal of headway are:

• Inequality.  The vast gap between me and my wife and kid and Sam Walton.
• What my kid's world is going to look like when she is having kids, or whatever it is she's doing then
• The struggle of the working class and the impoverished.  Do you realize that adventurers are the worst sort of untrained underclass, doing the King's dirty work for him, and finding wealth and redistributing it in the most crude and stupid fashion?  Don't roll your eyes at me, manthing
• Environmental degradation
• Poverty.  All you have to do to experience the LLC existence that is the funnel is roll a couple of the old fashioned way.  Man, rag-picking and rat-catching are shit jobs.  Of course you would want to die on the end of a Goblin's badly made hammer.  If that's not an analogy for the middle class being destroyed by cheap 3rd world labor then I don't know what it is.
• Mental health, the medicalization of crime, the criminalization of poverty
• Injustice.  They just let a guy out of death row in Japan after 45 years.  Stories like that all the MF time.
• Censorship of ideas and voices.  Criminalization of those who infringe upon corporate "rights"  (Aaron Schwartz!)
• Groupthink.  I watch this shit happen every day.  It's awful.  When you point out it's happening, the hivemind turns on you.  Nobody wants to hear that shit, man.  Trust me.  Doesn't mean you oughtn't say it if you see it.
• The militarization of the police.  Drones, swat tanks, genetic testing of random people at impromptu stops.  I pulled up on a sobriety check point at 7:55 this evening.  I think every squad car in the county was there.  Dogs, Blues and Reds, big burly guys and gals in fluorescent vests.  I had nothing to fear - stone cold sober and a law abiding citizen but I still felt a little uneasy.  I think they are probably trying to intercept the drug deals going down in the parking lot of the local grocery store, but, I mean is a little pot worth all this effort?  I don't know.  God Bless the Police and those who keep us safe and whatnot.
• the use of debt to quell unrest.  The elimination of (at least in the US) of education as a means to rise in the ranks of society.  I can't take a stand!  They got me for a house-worth of money and no way to pay it back, ever!
• corruption of our public offices.  This fucking guy Yee.  I mean, come on.  He's a gun dealer; he's simultaneously pushing for gun reforms and restriction. When I say "gun dealer" I don't mean the good honest kind; I mean the kind that sells guns to bad guys.  He's in the pocket of mobsters.  Actually, I trust mobsters more than corporations.  You could technically shoot a mobster or lock him up whereas that's not possible with a corporation. 
• the drain of our commonwealth by corporations and banks.  The death of capitalism is going to be when all the public funds are dumped into 401Ks and shit and then the fuckers just raid them to line their own pockets.  It's already happened!  Where did all the money go for infrastructure?  It's all been sucked up my hedge fund managers!
• The gradual ridiculous reduction in public fora as media for discourse and reasonable reflection of ideas and discussion.  A guy said the other day he didn't like politics stuff showing up in his feed owing to all the bad vibes that came with it.  But why?  How did we get taught within the past 25 years of internetting that discussion and even argument is negative, or that it equals animosity?  For some people, it does, sure - those people are welcome to bark from the sidelines but I hope if you don't agree with something you see here that fuck it, you'll at least think about it and stick around for the value of the ideas and their presentation if nothing else.

Up 'til now I've been thinking of RPGs as a way to escape my dreary worldview but if any of it will have any value to me going forward, it will only come with serious examination of the way I think a  number of things and hashing out the details.  If I keep seeing RPGs as an escape from the world, then I'm doing it like a child would do it.  RPGs and the OSR are as valid a way to express ideas as any other, if the issues are approached correctly.  I'm going to figure out how and maybe put out some OSR scenarios 

If you don't dig the politics then I hope at least the stuff will be playable and usable in games.

Let me know if I'm way off base.

NOW - back to the home stretch of my solo DCC module project

The Land Beyond the Forests - Actual Folklore for use in Games

The Strigoi, the Nosferatu, and the Prikolitsch Also, the Scholomance  From The Land Beyond The Forest by Emily Gerard, Harper Brothers (1888)

I don’t know why, but I saw mention of this last week and it rang a bell in me.  Not because I am not familiar with the whole domain of TRANSYLVANIAN MONSTERS from 140 years of seeing the traditions permuted through an Anglicized lens onto a movie screen, but because I was reading about the RuneQuest demons The Porphyr who are essentially vampires with blue skin and fancy claws.  Anyway, the work I quote here was said to have heavily influenced Bram Stoker and his Dracula.  These quotes have useful information and so I throw them out for consideration for gaming material.  I think it's interesting to think about what the actual historical folklore was, where it came from, who was recording it, and what's happened to the meanings and forms since then.  This particular book was likely well-read by many of the seminal authors of the horror and fantasy genre, and it's chock full of traditional tropes to work on and think about.

Check this out:

The mourning songs, called bocete, usually performed by paid mourners, are directly addressed to the corpse, and sung into his ear on either side. This is the last attempt made by the survivors to wake the dead man to life by reminding him of all he is leaving, and urging him to make a final effort to arouse his dormant faculties—the thought which underlies these proceedings being that the dead man hears and sees all that goes on around him, and that it only requires the determined effort of a strong will in order to restore elasticity to the stiffened limbs, and cause the torpid blood to flow anew in the veins.  (emphasis mine) (p. 181)

(That’s right – in Transylvania, death is merely for the weak of will.  Hang on to that thought)

In the case of a man who has died a violent death, or in general of all such as have expired without a light, none of these ceremonies take place. Such a man has neither right to bocete (my note: lamentations), privegghia (my note: a vigil), mass, or pomeana (my note: a wake), nor is his body laid in consecrated ground. He is buried wherever the body may be found, on the bleak hill-side or in the heart of the forest where he met his death, his last resting-place only marked by a heap of dry branches, to which each passer-by is expected to add by throwing a handful of twigs—usually a thorny branch—on the spot. This handful of thorns - or mana de spini, as the Roumanian calls it—being the only mark of attention to which the deceased can lay claim, therefore to the mind of this people no thought is so dreadful as that of dying deprived of light. (pp. 184-185)

(Perhaps this is where the idea comes from that Vampires are destroyed by sunlight)

This restlessness on the part of the defunct may either be caused by his having concealed treasures during his lifetime, in which case he is doomed to haunt the place where he has hidden his riches until they are discovered ; or else he may have died with some secret sin on his conscience—such, for instance, as having removed the boundary stone from a neighbor's field in order to enlarge his own. He will then probably be compelled to pilger about with a sack of the stolen earth on his back until he has succeeded in selling the whole of it to the people he meets in his nightly wanderings. These restless spirits, called strigoi, are not malicious, but their appearance bodes no good, and may be regarded as omens of sickness or misfortune. (p. 185)

(Strigoi are dead murderhobos who never fenced their ill-gotten treasures in life)

More decidedly evil is the nosferatu, or vampire, in which every Roumanian peasant believes as firmly as he does in heaven or hell. There are two sorts of vampires, living and dead. The living vampire is generally the illegitimate offspring of two illegitimate persons ; but even a flawless pedigree will not insure any one against the intrusion of a vampire into their family vault, since every person killed by a nosferatu becomes likewise a vampire after death, and will continue to suck the blood of other innocent persons till the spirit has been exorcised by opening the grave of the suspected person, and either driving a stake through the corpse, or else firing a pistol-shot into the coffin. To walk smoking round the grave on each anniversary of the death is also supposed to be effective in confining the vampire. In very obstinate cases of vampirism it is recommended to cut off the head, and replace it in the coffin with the mouth filled with garlic, or to extract the heart and burn it, strewing its ashes over the grave. (p. 185)

(Twice illegitimate!  Note – you can shoot a vampire to death in the coffin as well as stake him or her.)

First-cousin to the vampire, the long-exploded were-wolf of the Germans, is here to be found lingering under the name of prikolitsch. Sometimes it is a dog instead of a wolf whose form a man has taken, or been compelled to take, as penance for his sins. In one village a story is still told - and believed—of such a man, who, driving home one Sunday with his wife, suddenly felt that the time for his transformation had come. He therefore gave over the reins to her and stepped aside into the bushes, where, murmuring the mystic formula, he turned three somersaults over a ditch. (p. 186)

(Mystic formula!)

As I am on the subject of thunder-storms, I may as well here mention the scholomance, or school, supposed to exist somewhere in the heart of the mountains, and where the secrets of nature, the language of animals, and all magic spells are taught by the devil in person. Only ten scholars are admitted at a time, and when the course of learning has expired, and nine of them are released to return to their homes, the tenth scholar is detained by the devil as payment, and, mounted upon an ismeju, or dragon, becomes henceforward the devil's aide-de-camp, and assists him in "making the weather"—that is, preparing the thunder-bolts. (p. 198)

 (You could be part of the nine, or that last one.  I wonder if it’s the best of the 10 or the worst?  Also, ISMEJU is my new favorite word)