Kaiju Dissected

Ever hve a game session grind to a halt when your players needed an anatomical diagram of a giant monster and you, as GM, were unable to produce one?

No?  Well now you'll never have to worry about it ever happening!

Here's two diagram's of the innards of gamera, a giant mutant fire-breathing turtle, but it could easily be--well, another giant, mutant fire-breathing turtle.  Or maybe the Tarrasque. 

Here's a flavorful Japanse-language diagram, like something froma forbidden text in the hand of the nefarious Black Dragon Society, perhaps:

And here's an English language version courtesy of Shout! Factory:

Clipped in the City

Here are some pictures from daily newspapers on sale on street corners in the City:

The Intrepid Subterreners to Take Fight to Reds

Advertisement for Djinn Cigarettes

Comissioner to A Frightened City--"Slimes No Longer A Threat"

Phantom Soldier Seen Again in Subway Station

Warlord Wednesday: Song of Ligia

Let's re-enter the lost world with another installment of my issue by issue examination of DC Comic's Warlord, the earlier installments of which can be found here...

"Song of Ligia"
Warlord (vol. 1) #24 (August 1979)

Written and Pencilled by Mike Grell; Inked by Vince Colletta

Synopsis: A Kiroan merchant ship plies the southern coast, bound for marketplaces in Kallistan. One passenger is the subject of shipboard conversation--Travis Morgan, the man called the Warlord. Morgan takes no pleasure in that recognition. It reminds him he was once a man with a purpose. Now, he’s just a wanderer.

He doesn’t have long to dwell on self-pity, because he sees a ship bearing down on his vessel--not a good sign, as the captain avers that these waters harbor only pirates and slave-raiders. As the pirate ship closes, Morgan comes alive with anticipation of the coming battle, and takes command of the frightened crew and passengers. He leads a charge on to the pirate vessel, bringing slaughter where he goes, until a pirate’s arrow pierces his shoulder. He topples from the ship, into the sea.

Morgan manages to fight his way back to the surface where he clings to a piece of mast. The merchant vessel, still in the clutches of the pirate ship, burns in the distant. Adrift, alone, and losing blood, Morgan’s thought drift to Tara, his wife. In his delirium, he hears Tara accuse him of killing their son then abandoning her. Shouting her name, Morgan lets go of the piece of mast and raises his sword high, as he sinks into the depths.

Unconscious, Morgan somehow comes into the hands of a beautiful, green-skinned woman. His presence is an unexpected gift from the sea. She removes the arrow from him, then heals his wound by using her magical song to transfer it to her own shoulder, where it then fades--though plainly, the process causes her pain.

Morgan’s pain continues, too, though his physical injury is gone. The woman reads his emotional torment in his memories. Again, she sings, and takes it away. Morgan awakens in an idyllic world fashioned from his dreams, without any memory of his past life. With the woman in his arms, his memory loss doesn’t seem to matter.

Morgan and the woman, Ligia, live together in love in the magical dream-world she created in an air-filled bubble for him at the bottom of the sea. She provides food and everything else he needs. But as time passes, Morgan becomes increasing preoccupied with his lack of memory. He’s nagged by the feeling he’s forgotten something important. He spends his moments alone staring at his rusting weapons and armor, hoping they will give him some clue.

Abruptedly, their peace is shattered by an attack of the Piscines-- fish-men--who capture Ligia. Without a thought, Morgan arms himself and plunges through the skin of the bubble, into the ocean, to try and rescue her. The battle-fever returns, and he slaughters all the Piscines but one. That one throws a trident at Ligia.

Morgan dives to deflect the weapon, but his timing is off, and instead it pierces him in the stomach. Ligia is in despair. She has wanted to protect Morgan, and now he lies dying. She realizes she has been wrong to take away his past and try to make him something he could never fully be.

She doesn’t wish to lose him, but neither does she want to see him die. She must use all of her power to save him--her magic will be at an end. So she sings, and the bubble collapses, and the sea washes away the dreamworld.

Travis Morgan washes up on a beach. His memories are returned, but now he has a new one to haunt him. The name “Ligia” is on his lips.

In the ocean depths, a green dolphin frolics in the cool waters and hunts among the coral. Occasionally, she passes a tiny, ruined castle on the ocean-floor, and she, too, remembers.

Things to Notice:

• Despite carrying a shield, Morgan doesn't seem to use it much for actual defense.
• Ligia seems to have scales around her eyes, giving her a "fish-woman" sort of appearance--which is odd given the reveal of her nature at the end of the issue.

Where It Comes From:
The title of this issue references the fact that Ligia (sometimes Ligeia) is often given as the name of one of the sirens in Greek mythology.  Grell's Ligia acts as the exact opposite of a siren, since she saves Morgan, rather than using her song to lure him to his death, but the element of beguiling is still there.  Though the sirens were island-dwelling creatures in the original myths, later folklore and art has given then an aquatic, often mermaid like character, again similar to Ligia here.

This issue seems to draw inspiration from a couple of episodes of Star Trek: The Original Series.  Ligia's ability to heal by taking wounds on to herself was likely inspired by the identical abilities of Gem, the title character of "The Empath," a 1968 episode. The basic plot--a woman who is not quite what she seems who builds a world/sanctuary for the human man she's in love with--is essential the same as a 1967 episode "Metamorphosis." 

And while we're on the subject of Star Trek references, Ligia's green-skinned, black-haired appearance might have been suggested by the Orion slave girls--if not from a certain green-skinned goliath popular at DC's competition.

The Quality of His Enemies

Everyone knows the importance of the cultivation of a good villain, or ideally an entire rogue’s gallery, in a superhero game. After all, supervillains need to be at least as interesting as superheroes--maybe more so. People probably think about it less in fantasy rpgs, but its sitll something worth considering.

A lot of fantasy villains tend to be one-off, true enough. Anra Devadoris only bedeviled Fafhrd and Gray Mouser once, and any number of evil sorcerers didn’t survive one encounter with Conan’s mighty thews. Still, there are recurring bad guys--Conan’s got his Thoth-Amon, after all, and Sauron keeps menacing Middle-Earth like he’s Dr. Doom after the Fantastic Four.

My high school gaming group had a lot of fun with their foe Kulu the Illusionist. Kulu was the creation of my cousin who introduced me to gaming, and showed up in his campaign, and in virtually every iteration of my campaign after that. Players came to recognize the bald, purple-robed wizard by description alone--and man, did they want to kill him. In true super-villain fashion, Kulu always escaped the the player’s wrath to fight another day. A super-villain can easily become annoying if they seem protected by the GM, but I think the player’s were always able to soundly defeat Kulu so that he never got on their nerves in that regard.

Another, less conventional, nemesis was Kallus the Merchant (and yes, I think its just coincidence that both these villains have names that start with “k”). Kallus had funded some shady ventures that had put him at odds with the PCs, and a hot-tempered barbarian assassinated him for it. Kallus was gone, but his legacy lived on to vex the players. The merchant guild in town erected a statue in his honor, and people were always talking angrily about his unjust death. The PCs had to keep quiet, lest they face justice, and they were frustrated as the crooked merchant was lionized in death. Then, relatives of the merchant started hiring bounty hunters to track down Kallus’ murderers.  The PCs would find themselves periodically having to either fight off and misdirect these guys at the most inopportune times. All of this only occasionally intruded on the lives of the PCs, but it was a source of amusement for the players--well, at least for their DM.

So anybody have any good recurring villains in their games?

Scott Pilgrim vs. Gaming

I saw Scott Pilgrim vs. the World this weekend, which is of course the film adaptation of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s action-comedy graphic novel series. For the uninitiated, it tells the story of the eponymous slacker who must defeat seven evil exes in mortal combat so he can date cool-chick Ramona. Scott inhabits a strange alternate Toronto where amazon.ca delivery-girls take shortcuts through subspace (at least an American one do), demon hipster chicks are summoned, and vegans are gifted with incredible psychic powers by virtue of their diet.

If it sounds a little cutesy, it is, but that’s part of its charm. It’s obviously informed by a love of video games, as references abound, but it strikes me that Scott Pilgrim’s world isn’t too far off from a table-top rpg, particular a post-computer-game one like 4E D&D.

For instance, Ramona, Scott’s inamorata, carries a subspace suitcase--a hipster purse with the properties of a bag of holding--in which she carries a large hammer +2 against girls, and a titanium bat +1 against blondes.

After defeating one of the exes, Scott wins a mithril skateboard with the stats +4 Speed, +3 Kick, and +1 Will. Alas, Scott never took skateboard proficiency--instead opting for longsword--so he’s unable to use it.

See what I mean? With the movie out, its too bad it wasn’t capitalized on with a table-top rpg as well as the inevitable video game.

The Devil's Jukebox

The so-called “Devil’s Jukebox” is a malign, arcane device that may be encountered in shabby dance-halls, two-bit gin-joints, or lonely roadside bars from the outskirts of the City to the coast of Hesperia. Its presence often heralds some sort of tragedy or misfortune--it has been seen in farm towns just before devastating floods, and captured in the background of crime scene photos of gangland massacres.  Often though, the Devil’s Jukebox causes its own tragedy.

The device is supposedly the only existing Schreckwalder Lapsit Exillis model jukebox in existence, the last model personally designed by company co-founder Wolfram Schreckwalder before his seclusion--and the tragedy that followed. No one knows how the device came to be imbued with magical power, though there are always tales that it was made on commission for some extraplanar power.

It plays standard 78rpm shellac records, though no one has been able to change the records in this machine. Attempts at removal lead to another copy of the record in question re-appearing in the device, and the removed one crumbling away to dust with a hint of brimstone in the air. The jukebox does change its own records from time to time, though no one can predict when this will happen. It can hold up to twenty records, though no one has ever heard more than a handful of the songs in its repertoire and lived to tell about it.

Here are a few of the songs that have been heard played by the machine, and the magical effects that occur when they play. Effects last as long as the song plays (4 minutes, or less) unless noted otherwise. The jukebox seems to play these songs at random, and it starts or stops as it will. Songs may be selected by number, but few are foolish enough to actually make it play:

1. “Devil’s Blues” by Springheeled Jack Jamison: The attentions of an infernal entity are drawn to one of the people present, or perhaps them all. The length and nature of the attention is variable, but it is always troublesome in character.

2. “Take My Soul” by Wendell Clavinger: One person present has there soul trapped elsewhere--likely in some item at some remote location. Their body functions normally but appears to be in a coma.
3. “It’ll Come Back Around” by Billy Barrow and His Jazz Revenants: Ghosts of dead enemies/foes materialize and attack or otherwise bedevil those present.  Additionally, any dead bodies present will rise as undead.

4. “Don’t the Time Just Fly?” by the Legendary Smaragdine Mountain Boys: While only enough time to for the song to play seems to pass for those present, d100 hours pass outside--possibly even longer.

5. “Gallows Swing” by Los Hermanos Acuna Western Orchestra: Within an hour of the song playing, a lynch mob of 10-30 will seek out one of those present and attempt to deliver swift justice for a violent murder they are sure the individual committed.

6. “Poor Me” by the Gentlemen of the Road: One person present (at random) will lose all their wealth and non-magical possessions by a series of seemingly coincidental misfortunes over the next week.

7. “Sea of Tears” by Tic Doloreux and his Orchestra: All present are struck with intense sadness. Those who fail a saving throw will become suicidal and attempt to end their life unless the song ends before they can do so, or they are prevented by others.

8. “Must Have Been the Moonlight” by Irena Dubrovna: One person (at random) present when the song plays is stricken with lycanthropy, though this will not necessarily be evident until the next full moon.

9. “You Make Me Crazy” by Hugh Strange and the Bedlam Orchestra: Everyone hearing the song is struck by an unreasoning frenzy wherein they attack each other in a murderous rage. They take no actions requiring forethought or planning (like casting spells) but will employ available weapons.

10.  "Missing You Missing Me" by Jonny Favorite: Everyone hearing the song becomes permanently amnestic regarding some important memory in his or her life.  This varies from forgetting a single important fact, to complete loss of identity.  Occasionally (30% of the time), someone present will have memories replaced with ones not their own.

Lies Your Mummy Told You

Far to the west of the City, within the great Stoney Mountains, there are remote places where ancient ruins dot the hardpan, high-desert landscape. From these ruins sometimes come unusual artifacts, none more so than the so-called dwarf  mummies.

Dwarf (sometimes pygmy) mummies look just as their name suggests: they are wizened figures little more than a foot tall, in their usual seated pose. Despite having none of the usual signs of life, the mummies are endowed with the magical semblance of life at least, and though they don’t move (usually) they are aware, and interact with their environment.

The susurration of the mummies can be heard by all, if conditions are quiet enough, but only the one “owner” of the mummy will be able to understand their dessicated whispering, which will sound as if spoken directly into their ear, even if they are as much as ten feet away.

The mummies' utterances will fall (either randomly or at the GM’s whim) into the following categories:

01-02: Pained, non sequitur reminiscences, possibly related to their long ago lives. These are related to times far too remote for modern hearers to relate to them in any useful way.
03-04: Cryptic foretellings of the future (anywhere from 1 week to 10 years hence) which will relate to the “owner.”
05-06: An exact and surprising statement about some predicament currently vexing the “owner.” The mummy will not elaborate.
07-08: A cryptic statement which seems to be about some predicament vexing the “owner,” but is in fact just nonsense.
09-10: Veiled Suggestions that someone the “owner” is close to is in fact conspiring against them. This may or may not be true, but the mummy will have details that make it seem so. Details will only be delivered in a way that makes the mummy seem reluctant to talk about the issue.

The longer a person owns a mummy, the more uncritical they will become about its statements. After a week or more in their possession, the owner will react to the mummy as if it has a Charisma of 18. After a month, a failed save will mean the owner acts as if charmed by the mummy in regard to believing everything it says, and treating it as if it is a trusted confidant.

No one knows who the dwarf mummies are, nor their purposes.  Any answers the mummies' give in this regard will certainly be lies.