Tuesday, 31 March 2020

Gods of the Black 2: Quarantine Edition

Quarantines got me locked in my room so it's time for some more space horrors! Again these are inspired by the Dread Powers from magnus archives given a sci-fi polish and dragged through the hedge of my brain.


Avatar: A blood-red moon cracked open like an eggshell. From within emerges a vast head, at once a mans, a wolfs, a thousand alien predators. White chains of neutron star-stuff bind its eyes and maw. A million appendages reach out around it, miles and miles long, brushing the planets surface.

Servitors: Those few who survive an incursion, transformed with corrupted Posthuman technology into vanguard organisms that range far beyond the tangle, spreading Ymirra's taint wherever they go.

  •  Every form of life turned murderously predatory, from the smallest algae to large, gentle herbivores. An orgy of hunger and animal violence that never ceases.
  • A new species of hominid. Children are born stronger, smarter, crueller, their eyes devoid of empathy. They look at their parents and playmates with cold calculation. Soon they outnumber them, and the hunt begins.
  • The colony taken apart like a jigsaw and twisted into a deathtrap labyrinth, the people forced to run like rats from a cavalcade of human-derived creatures that stalk the narrow halls.



Avatar: A black hole that hunts with a terrible intent. At the edge of the event horizon, a pitch-black ring-city built of derelict ships that spins ever close to destruction, its blinded philosophical-zombie inhabitants expanding it constantly to escape their gods hunger.

Servitors: A strange ship that docks one day, promising salvation to those who board. The masked crew pack the colonists together in tiny lightless cells and take them to the blind city, forcing them to gaze upon the Avatar until their eyes bleed away into pits of darkness and their sentience is neatly scooped away, replaced with a mindless shadow-self.

  • Light inverts, casting the planet into photo-negative.The star swells grotesquely, filling the sky with a sickly black-blue glow, fattened for the feast.
  • A total eclipse that does not end. An arm reaches from the suns shadow, thin and many-jointed, and grasps the colony tower tight, before dragging it into the black.
  • The whole city is dead, murdered by their shadows that now move freely, performing a pantomime life.


The Black Pit of Carcossa

Avatar: Never seen, only heard. A sub-bass heart-beat from deep below the ground, a sussurating binary code detected on seismic instruments. It gets faster and faster. Those on the surface dream of a pale, fleshy thing at the core of the world, and wake with a desperate desire to join it.

Servitor: A person-sized trapezohedron of diamond. Those who approach find themselves compressed by gravitational forces and pressure too strong to measure, turned to tiny flecks of crystal that are incorporated into the servitors form.
  • The station descends into the gas giant, deeper and deeper, down to where the pressure turns gas to liquid. The inhabitants are crushed and warped by unimaginable pressure, but still live. 
  • A mining expedition finds themselves fossilising, stone and computronium creeping up their bodies from the rock below. Their minds are overwhelmed with endless calculations of mass, gravity and depth.
  • A crevice that appears in the floor. Small at first, it gets larger and larger, as the dimensions of the room shrink around it. At the bottom, far below, a tangled mass of quantum black-boxes and pale bodies, wires and cables trailing from mouths and hollowed skulls.


You Wont Believe Number 5!

Avatar: A viral meme, a thoughform that leaps from frequency to frequency, copying itself across every system it can find. It appears as an indistinct figure in a stock photo, their features resembling someone you knew.

Servitors: Fractal branches emerge from the screens of infected devices across the colony. Their psychedelic flowers grow rapidly, and bloom, a delicate song emerging from the mouths within them.

  • The properties of states of matter debased. Solids and gases turning liquid, and vice versa. Colonists drowning in their liquid habitation blocks, people fall through the gaseous surface of the world towards a burning core that is soft and pliable as jelly.
  • Causality undone. Everything happens at once, never happens and is already over. Time bends around in a moebius strip, perception becomes reality as memories leak free. You dissolve into the world around you as a million minds entwine around eachother, losing themselves forever.
  • It's not there. Mass hysteria and paranoia, the demons created by the colonists own minds are all that there is.


Avatar: A moon-sized Company arcology, spinning slowly in the inky void, trailing ocens of amniotic fluid. Blazing yellow light comes from every window. The shadow of a vast, foetal figure can be seen inside, twitching.

Servitors: A nameless corporation that reached beyond the Tangle, and was embraced by what they found. Now their outlets appear on frontier colonies, sprouting in unseen corners, bright signs promising services and payment plans in nonsense words that hurt to look at. Nobody ever sees any staff, but they all say the service is wonderful.

  •  People are buying dopplegangers of themselves from strange, unnamed shopfronts. Their cramped apartments fill with blanked-eyed twins
  • The stock markets have a new index. They're selling stocks in the colony. The inhabitants wake to find neat chunks missing of the sky, the ground, their flesh and memories. From the empty space in a grey sky, leaflets pour, adveritsing products that dont exist, could never exist.
  • The colonists stitched together with computronium thread, brains networked to mine vast amounts of cryptocurrency thats broadcast beyond the Tangle.
  • The Union meeting hall is impaled on a vast spike of petrified, twisted bodies that erupts from the ground, cheerfully smiling faces chanting Company slogans. The organizers and reps come apart in molecule-thick strands that fall like confetti.


Avatar: A brilliant green star, thousands of AU in radius.

Servitors: Molecules of hydrogen, grown bigger than starships. The surface crawls with shrivvled, vaccum-dessicated corpses that attempt to dig below with broken fingers.

  • The crew awake from cryostasis to find their ship far beyond the galactic plane, drifting powerless in the emptiness between galaxies. Twinkling lights surround them, millions of light-years away. They still live out there, utterly lost in the inky black sea.
  • The colonists fall into the angles of their meagre dwellings, lost in cracks of space-time. They are visible as tiny figures endlessly dropping away, getting smaller and smaller but never quite vanishing.
  • The field is bigger on the inside. The fence recedes into the distance, the fields of engineered crops stretching as far as can be seen. The lights of the colony homestead can just be seen, but never reached. In the black sky above, something vast swims, too big to comprehend.

Tuesday, 18 February 2020

Leer-ly There

Poor Leer. Her life sucks. She sculpts until she passes out, and then she wakes up and does it again. This is what happens when she sculpts too much. I figured that since the Gate is formed from her sculptures, it would be cool to have her become the gate.

The Gate Herself
A thin, malnourished body floats a few feet from the ground, limbs shrivelled and skin pulled taught. Bloodstained rags of clothing trail below it. From her back erupts a hideos growth of bone and flesh, Leer's spine and organs moulded like clay into a ring-like structure. Black smoke pours from the portal, which throbs and writhes with a hideous life.

Combat: 25%
>Feeble scratching 1d10 OR Open the Gate

Speed: 30%
Instinct: 40%
Hits: 4 (30)

>Trauma Aura: Sanity and Fear saves taken by PCs are at (-)
>The Gate Opens: Gaunt enter realspace, roll D6 on table below.
  1. Pitch-black toxic smoke billows from the Gate, lit by purple lightening. Body save or 1d10 damage/turn spent breathing smoke.
  2. 1d10 Death Worms writhe sinuously through the air, spectral fronds twitching.
  3. 1d10/2 Crawlers scuttle through, swarming towards the PCs.
  4. 3 Gaunt Walkers erupt from the portal, wailing unearthly screams.
  5. Pyschic shockwave erupts from the portal, flooding the PCs minds with horrific visions. Sanity save or stunned for 1 round.
  6. A long, multi-jointed, skeletal arm reaches through the portal and grabs a random PC, Body save or be pulled through the portal next turn (unless stopped somehow).

Friday, 14 February 2020

Old Johns Body

Another death-wormed NPC for the Tyrant Begger gaunt outbreak, this time the ever-charming surgeon. He's a meat spider now. You could've prevented this.

The Flesh Architect

It resembles a spider, at the edge of the definition. A bulbous body of metal panels and pulsating flesh, tubing and wires bursting from seams and trailing across the floor. Thin legs erupting at strange angles, meat and medical equipment and stolen limbs coiling around and around, ending in razor-fine sharpness. A mans upper body emerges from a mass of intestine and teeth, bent backwards, arms shrivvled and hanging limply. New limbs emerge from a split-open ribcage, red-raw, dripping and ending in all manner of viscious surgical tools.

Combat: 60%
> Surgical Tools 3d10 + Bleed OR Impaling Legs

Speed: 65%
Instinct: 45%
Hits:  5 (30)

> Impaling Legs: On hit, PC must make a Body save or be impaled, taking 4d10 damage and becoming immobilised until freed.
> The Ripper: On 2 consecutive hits with Surgical Tools, target PC will lose a limb at random, which the Flesh Architect then attaches to itself.

Wednesday, 5 February 2020


In the horrible moon colony featured in Dead Planet there's some inbred scrawny goats that the colonists herd so they don't have to (always) be cannibals. This is what happens when the Gaunt get to them.

The Twisted Herd
A roiling mass of flesh and hair and bone, melted together by the Gaunts necrotic energies. Curling horns and gnashing mouths burst from the thing at random as it drags itself foward on too-long legs, the hooves splitting and writhing like worms. The heads are fused into one, the pulsating brain visibly wriggling with death worms, its many eyes rolling madly.

Combat: 55%
> Trample 3d10 and Horns 3d10 OR Bite 2d10 OR Abyssal Bleat

Speed: 30%
Instinct: 35%
Hits: 10 (20)

> Abyssal Bleat: Sanity save or paralysed for a turn as your character spasms on the floor
> Hunger: Consume a corpse to regenerate 1 Hit OR swallow a character that was hit by the Bite attack. Character takes 2d10 damage/turn, can deal 1 hit of damage to escape the stomach.

Saturday, 4 January 2020

Mods for Mothership

These are mostly adaptations of Shadowrun and Eclipse Phase stuff, just cyberware at the moment cos I can't figure out how bioware should work.

Maskerade (cyberware)  
Cost: 10kcr 
Slots: 1 
Description: Full-face replacement, allows user to change their facial features with a mental trigger. Takes 1 hour for small adjustments, 5 hours for a completly new face. 
Requires: None  

Lotus Module (slickware)   
Cost: 80kcr  
Slots: 2  
Description: Allows a user to enter Slickworlds without the use of a Slickbay. Sanity losses for extended Slickworld use are doubled when using a Lotus Module. Addictive. 
Requires: Slicksocket, Remote Uplink

Puppet Strings (cyberware)  
Cost: 5mcr
Slots: 3 
Description:A highly invasive procedure that allows anyone with the control rig to bypass the consciousness and remote-control a body this is installed in. Rarely installed consensually. Victim takes 1 stress every round the Puppet Strings are active.   
Requires: Remote Uplink 

Internal Oxygen Reserve (cyberware)
Cost: 5kr
Slots: 1
Description: Allows the user to switch from regular breathing to an implanted oxygen tank containing 4 hours of air supply. Takes 24 hours to refill.

Sub-Dermal Weave (cyberware)
Cost: 350kcr
Slots: 2
Description: A layer of woven impact-resistant threads inserted between the dermis and the muscalature. Provides a permanent +10% Armour bonus. On taking a critical hit, the weave is compromised. (-) to speed checks and strenuous activity deals 1d10 damage until it is repaired.

Ghostbox (cyberware)
Slots: 1
Description: A small data-storage module and processor that can store an uploaded AI, or a personality downloaded from a Blackbox or NEMO machine.
Requires: Terminal Jack, Slicksocket

Cybercortex (cyberware)
Cost: 50kcr
Slots: 2
Description: Partial replacement of organic brain matter with specialized synthetic architecture. Provides 2 free slickware slots. Vulnerable to hacking and EMP weaponry.
Requires: Slicksocket

Parralel Processor (slickware)
Cost: 550kcr 
Slots: 2 
Description: Allows users with Parralel Processor installed to wirelessly network minds together, providing (+) to Intelligence checks. Stress suffered by one will affect all other characters in the network. Vulnerable to hacking. 
Requires: Slicksocket

Empathy Lock (slickware)
Cost: 200kcr 
Slots: 2 
Description: On command, blocks sections of the brain responsible for empathy, personal ethics, and guilt. Allows user to commit extreme violence and actions they would usually find repulsive or disturbing, without taking stress. Memories are locked in a partitioned section of the Blackbox to prevent psychological trauma when the slickware is disengaged. 
Requires: Slicksocket, Blackbox

Frogpads (Cyberware)
Cost: 5000cr
Slots: 1 
Description: Pads implanted on hands, knees, elbows and feet that produce a strong adhesive. Allows user to crawl on walls and ceilings.

Spy-eyes (cyberware)
Cost: 40kcr
Slots: 1
Description: Concealed cybernetic cameras implanted around the skull. Provides 360-degrees of vision.

Cybereyes (cyberware)
Cost: 35kcr
Slots: 2
Description: Cybernetic eye replacement. Comes with thermographic vision, low-light mode, magnification, and flare compensation.

Cost: 25kcr
Slots: 1
Description: Replaces surface of fingers with smart material, allowing morphing of fingerprints. Can also shift fingers into a suit of lockpicking tools.

Saturday, 16 November 2019

Gods of the Black

These were made for Mothership (which you should get), inspired by The Magnus Archives and Dandyman's fab post, but feel free to toss them into anything, who doesn't love a sprinkle of horrible space gods.

There is a war in heaven.

Posthumanity has fallen. Something found them out void, and its shadow fell across them. Now they are fell demons of the black, bloody-handed avatars of madness. Humanity cowers behind the Tangle and the meagre protection it provides. But the sickness that dwells within the gods drives them endlessly, and there are many cracks their avatars can slip through.

 Know them, child, and fear their signs.


Kuduja, Puppeteer

Avatar: White rings, Thousands of kilometres wide, interlocking, endlessly spinning.

Servitors: Teardrop-shaped, transparent. A web of white 2-dimensional lines in their wake, drifting as if underwater.

  • Every movement and thought, every sound made is dictated, programmed, controlled. Steps in a dance that goes nowhere. Colonists, androids, animals and plants. A world of Chinese boxes. They move in strange patterns across the planets surface. From empty eye sockets, white threads that go up, up, disappearing between dimensions.


Avatar: A silver, cube-shaped ship. It blooms like a flower to disgorge swarms of servitor-drones

Servitors:  Many-legged, made of jagged silvery metal shards. They sweep across the planet, force-uploading colonists. Silver ships armed with nuclear weapons, tailored viruses, chemical cleansing agents.

  • A broadcast signal that induces murderous sociopathy, particularly towards those closest to you. Then, white fire that strips the planet clean, followed by chemical and radioactive agents. Then, a new world constructed, a city of cold metal, utterly lifeless. Its inhabitants are faceless android bodies, inhabited by human minds put through thousands of years of time-dilated psychosurgery. They are cruel, unfeeling, and utterly mad as they perform a sickening pantomime society.


The Red Star

    Avatar: A red sphere that moves with dread purpose. Its surface crawls with impossible life that births and consumes itself. Where the flesh parts for a moment, the outer hull of a Dyson sphere, smeared with shit and blood and birthing fluid, the light of a red dwarf shining through the cracks.

    Servitors: The stuff of the Red Star itself, hurled to the planets surface. An asteroid-sized chunk of squirming, shrieking flesh and quantum computers.

    • A hellish ecosystem. An ocean of amoebic fluid, womb-islands drifting, birthing the monstrosities of the Red Stars dreams. Fields of grasping hands. Mountains-sized mouths that bellow streams of equations into the sky. 
    • Frozen ropes of cerebral matter from harvested colonists, a few cells thick, strung across the void. The network is astronomical units wide. They still live.


    Avatar: A headless, limbless torso, formed of something black and glass-like, the size of a moon. Every inch of its surface engraved with code. Dead ships and corpses drift in a cloud around it.

    Servitors: Tomb-ships, octahedrons of black glass that travel on vast solar sails. They bring the entropic wind in their wake.

    • A loss of energy and motivation on a planetary scale. Colony-wide depression. A sound like static on the edge of your hearing. And then, absolute entropy, accelerated. An interstellar wind that wears away everything. Life dies cell-by-cell, withers, slumps grey and lifeless but does not decay. Planets and Asteroids fall to dust, and the dust scatters across the void. Gas giants dissipate. The star flickers, dies, grows cold, its core collapses into drifting matter. 



    Avatar: A comet that streaks across the sky, a different colour to all who see it. Its surface is covered in thousands of faces. It returns, night after night.

    Servitors: Shaped like enormous heads, angular and abstract. When light hits the sharp edges it refracts in a shimmering rainbow. They hover above the ground, trailing tendrils of shifting metal behind them.

    • Transmissions shut off. Between planets, then between cities. The stars go out, one by one. The colonists lose the ability to understand each other, or to comprehend other humans as people. Each is convinced they are the only real person in the universe.
    • A silent world, every adult and child plugged into a personalised digital world, populated by thousands of copies of themselves. The cables run into their mouths, their eyes, their temples. Blue wires wriggle under the skin.
    • A thick mist descends, from the sky, from the oceans, from the blank holes where your friends eyes were. The servitor drones drift within, hunting.


      Avatar: A misshapen hulk of posthuman ships, databanks, habitats, fused together by a mass of something yellow, fungus-like. It bulges through cracks, blossoms out of mass drivers. Vast shelves of it project into the void, and it sheds continent-sized clouds of spores. Something vast and worm-like wriggles within.

      Servitor: The spores. The size of a house, they move with a strange intelligence. Something both machine and corrupted fungal flesh, a lunatic von-neumann construct. They spew clouds of nanomachines as they descend through the atmosphere.

      • A planet covered in vast blankets of mycelium. It goes down for miles. Tendrils slowly crack tectonic plates apart, breaking the planet open. Pillars of metal breach the layers of growth. Upon each a huddled mass of people, grasping each other so close their flesh has meshed together.
      •  A colossal worm wraps the world. Its coils bulge and throb. Mushrooms breach its skin, shedding spores that form a ring around the planet.
      •  A single ship, drifting towards a prosperous colony. Inside every space is full of living people, bodies warped and squashed. They mutter to eachother in a sussurus that sounds like static. When something docks the bodies replicate, blindingly fast, filling any space they can.


      Avatar: A flat plane, a few microns thick and thousands of km long and wide. Observers find their faces projected onto its surface, twisted and warped. It wraps itself around the planet, and swallows it whole.

      Servitors: Graceful figures, two-dimensional, surrounded by floating black lenses. Always facing you. Their arms unfold, again and again, revealing an infinite variety of tools for dissections, examination, experimentation.

      • Endless light. Everything illuminated, no shadows to hide. Servitors descend on the stolen world. They catalogue everything, taking samples, running pointless and circular tests on every animal, every plant, every speck of matter. Sentient minds are captured, copied, put through millions of simulations to observe their reactions. The data rises into the light in a visible stream of glowing dust.
      • A discarded planet. Every scrap of data gathered, every creature flayed neatly, dissected with strange precision. The brains are missing. Technology dismantled, parts categorised and sorted. Vast fields of petri dishes, filled with monstrous bacterial growths.



        Hope was the last demon to escape Pandora’s box. In her madness, RHEA has remembered what it is to be human. A mortal heart beats inside her cold digital soul, and in her dreams she is a young girl again, dancing in a field of flowers.

        Avatar: A many-armed, humanoid shape, lit by a corona of brilliant yellow-white-orange light. Something vast just behind her. She speaks in a million voices.

        Servitors: The warships ELPIS, PERSEPHONE, DEMETER. Vast structures, bristling with mass-cannons and antimatter missiles. Inside they are overgrown, new edens for her children. The tunnelships, slaved to her command, digging the labyrinth-fortress ever deeper.

        • The Tangle, a fractal hyperspace labyrinth surrounding human space, fortress and prison for her fragile mortal kin.
        • An RKV impacting on an Avatar as it breaches the Tangle. A rain of burning stars falling on its servants.
        • A blasted, ruined world made green again. 


        Thrown into a dark and shattered future by his own hubris as he sought to grasp the nature of creation. He has seen the victory of the shadow and his own fallen kin, reality broken apart, a swirling dimensional vortex around a thirsting, hungry maw. He will not, cannot allow this. 

        Avatar: A matrioshka brain, a stellar engine of cool intellect and iron purpose. It drifts on the edge of a reality that is collapsing, drawn inexorably towards destruction. He is running out of time.

        Servitors: Golden-white squid-like machines, thrown a billion years into the past. They drift at the edge of empty systems, reaching out in dreams and altered memories. The wheels of their plan are already in motion.

        • A sense of deja vu. Something has changed, but you cannot remember what. You feel out of place, out of time. Was this always your life? It doesn't matter. You have a new FRIEND request