In the Cards

The Magi are a group of itinerant fortune tellers found throughout the Strange Stars but particularly in the Zuran Expanse. Viewed variously as mystics, cultists, or charlatans, and often treated with suspicion whatever the judgement, the Magi care about the opinions of other sophonts only to the degree it impacts their quest for enlightenment.

While baseline humanoid in appearance, Magi have a modified neural structure: The linkages within the reflexive system are enhanced, as is prefrontal-parietal interconnectivity. The result is enhanced intuitive and lateral thought processes and the ability to utilize controlled dreamlike states of consciousness. Another consequence of this restructuring (not fully appreciated when it was implemented millennia ago) is greatly enhanced precognition.

The Magi use these abilities (or tell customers they use them) for fortune-telling. Like all fortune-tellers before them, they’ve found that discerning what the client wants to hear and telling them that rather than giving vague impressions of the actual future is generally more likely to generate referrals and return business. Magi favor an elaborate cartomancy using a deck they call the Zener Tarot (suits of Circles, Crosses, Waves, Squares, and Stars), a series of questions (many wholly unrelated to the question at hand), and some physiologic biometric assessment of the client. Which parts of this protocol and necessary and which are just for show is a closely guarded secret.

Magi are also sometime gamblers. They enjoy almost any game of chance. They are often accused of cheating and find it prudent to leave the area quickly after any significant win.

What really concerns the Magi and drives their wandering isn’t the future, but the nature of reality. As an order (perhaps as a glitch in their neural arrangement) they are haunted by contemplation of the simulation hypothesis: they fear the world as they perceive it is only a computer simulation. Their hypercognitions and precognitions only fuel this ontological fear. The Magi search for either conclusive proof these fears--the final “tell” that will give away the game--or evidence of the transcendent uncomputability of universe, a concept they hold in awe and fear like unto a god.

Welcome to the Machine

“Moravec” is the term generally used among the Strange Stars to refer to self-replicating robot sophonts. They are differentiated from “bots” (manufactured robots, typically low or nonsapient) and von Neumanns (self-replicating robots, low or nonsapient). The appellation comes from the surname of a historical Old Earth scientist-prophet. It apparently came into use through the more flowery “Children of Moravec”--a line from a protest song sang during smartmob events by moravec revolutionaries who regarded the extant term “robot” as a slur. At least, that’s the history as remembered by some moravecs; it all occurred millennia ago, and more than one dark age (major and minor) lies between then and now.

A moravec mercenary from a promotional vid

Today, moravecs are as varied as humanity’s biologic descendants. Many are humanoid in form (or android or gynoid) and inhabit worlds less tolerant of biological life. Others have forms reminiscent of arthopods and crawl over asteroids or comets, sometimes with their intelligences distributed over an entire swarm. Still others have spaceship-sized bodies: The warrior-poets of Eridanus are one militant order in this last group.

A warrior-poet prepares for combat--and composition

Servants of the Zhmun

The zhmun inhabit a domed city on the small, austere world of Aygo, orbiting a yellow star in the Zuran Expanse. Their famed wealth comes from ancient treasure stores (the contents as much of value as art objects or archaeological finds as anything else) and by their control over the mining rights to three superterrestrial worlds in their home system. Enforcement of these rights and protection from interstellar marauders of the Expanse comes via their alliance with sophont, ship-sized moravecs that have patrolled the system since ancient times.

Zhmun are thought to be bioroids due to their unusual structure. They're invertebrates with ameboid characteristics, despite being multicellular. A zhmu uses the hydrostatic pressure of internal fluids and the ability to quickly alter the rigidity of its tissues to hold itself in a roughly humanoid shape. Zhmun who can’t achieve consistent humanoid appearance are second class citizens—“globs.”  Zhmun are asexual (though sometimes assume gendered titles) and reproduce by pinching off a bit of their substance and tossing it into comunnal vats of doughy proto-zhmu plasm. Zhmun are only allowed to contribute to vats in their living districts, which are rigidly segregated by status. While zhmun don’t need to sleep in the human sense, they do need to relax their hold over their form for a few hours every few standard days. They're also said to re-encode information from ancient brain scans from their sacred stores every week or so, but it is uncertain if this serves a ritual or biologic purpose.

Zhmun perform no manual labor, but insist that their needs be provided for by biologic entities, not robots. Higher status zhmun perform no work at all. They affect an air of nobility and assume lofty, nonsensical titles. They spend their days in artistic pursuits or idle pleasures, as befits their station.  Globs direct zhmu business interests and supervise their myriad of alien employees and servants in the name of a zhmu master. Menial tasks are performed by a slave clade of unknown origin, collectively called yoom. Yoom are low on the sophont-scale and are bred in a variety of function-based forms from brutish, thick-browed laborers and bodyguards to sleek, quadrupedal racers.

The zhmun’s paid employees arrive from the co-orbital planet, Erg. There, a rundown spaceport, mining camps, and shantytowns attract the desperate and down an out of known space. They watch the job listings, hoping to get a lucrative position with the zhmun, either serving them on Aygo, or working in their mining concerns on the neighboring planets. or (dare they hope?) representing zhmu interests on other worlds. While they wait, they pay rent to the zhmun on whatever shabby accommodations they can find, and go in debt buying food and entertainment in zhmu-owned businesses.

Warlord Wednesday: The Scepter of Doom

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...

"The Scepter of Doom"

Warlord #122 (October 1987)

Written by Michael Fleisher; Pencils by Art Thibert, Inks by Pablo Marcos

Synopsis: While the Shamballans rebuild their city, Jennifer Morgan and Kara (aka Power Girl) are battling the demon Azmyrkon and his scepter of power. The demon has united two of the three pieces and our heroes are having a tough time coping with his onslaught. He even creates a rogue wave that threatens to wash over a coastal settlement, but Kara generates a wave of her own to turn it back.

Morgan is preparing to host dignitaries from all over Skartaris, trying to repair the mistrust sown by Desaad. He’s most looking forward to the return of Tara, his queen. In Kiro, that queen is preparing to come home with their friend, Machiste, who still can’t forgive what happened between Morgan and Mariah.

Redmond has escaped the Valley of the Snowmen. He takes the antidote he stole from them and finds he does de-Sasquatchify. He continues on his dogged and ridiculous quest to bring Morgan to justice. He winds up in a town, where his attempt to pay for a meal with U.S. currency and his reverting to manbeast form leads him to take a girl hostage to get out of town ahead of angry villagers.

Azmyrkon goes after the next part of his power rod in a desert. Kara finds the last piece with her X-ray vision, and then borrows into the earth to get it while Jennifer distracts the demon with her magic.

The demon’s too strong though, and they can’t hold him off for long. Azmyrkon manages to get the jewel for his rod from them and gets pretty cocky:

The ladies are still in the fight, but things are going badly. Jennifer makes one last, desperate play: She drains all her magic into Kara to fortify her strength enough so she can wrest the rod from the demon’s hands. Then she blasts him with his own weapon:

Back in Shamballah, the dignitaries have begun to arrive. Tara arrives and greets Morgan warmly. Machiste on the other hand:

Things to Notice:

• You've got to give it to Redmond, he's persistent.
• Desaad has disappeared back to Apokolips. 

Where it Comes From:
This issue is largely a wrap for the dangling business from the New Gods arc. It does give Powergirl and Jennifer something more to do.

Sword & Backpack

Over at the Sword & Backpack blog, Gabe Soria has been working on a neat (and free) rules-lite (he says "minimalist") old school inspired rpg that seems to be aimed at younger audiences. Soria says his goals were to make:  "A) the first RPG designed to be played out of a grid-paper Moleskine, and B) the only RPG inspired by Brian Eno's Oblique Strategies and Factory Records."

It's got a bit of an Adventure Time feel, I think, but it also sort of evokes the original 1966 animated Hobbit to me for some reason.

Check out (and download) the free basic rules here and go here to find out how to assemble it. Then peruse the rest of Gabe's posts for further broadsheet expansions and things like sountrack "mixtape" playlists.

It's Not Easy Being Green (Ssraad)

GREEN SSRAAD
No. Appearing: 2-12
AC: 5
HD: 5
Saving Throw: 12
Attack Bonus: +7/+6/+6
Damage: 1d4 tongue slap (+poison, see below) or 1d8 bite; or by weapon 
Movement: 30’
Morale: 12

The green ssraad control the ancient habitats in orbit around Sirius A. Intensely xenophobic, the only non-ssraad they allow in the system are their slaves (and future meals). From Sirius, they stage raids on other systems and engage in a protracted war with the blue ssraad.

The green are the smallest ssraad species (2.13 m), but also the most intelligent. They believe themselves to be the closest in form to the zurr, whom they worship as their semi-divine progenitors. Of all the ssraad, the green most closely resemble anthropomorphic toads. Their plump bodies and thin limbs make them appear much less threatening than the reds or blues. Appearances can be deceiving.

The green ssraad generate a paralytic biochemical that they can deliver via their sticky, extensible tongues. Anyone hit on exposed skin by their tongue must make a Physical Effects saving throw (Toxicity 10 Interval 1 hour Virulence 2) or be paralyzed. Three failed saves means a victim's breathing has also been paralyzed and he or she begins to suffocate without respiratory support. Other ssraad aren’t paralyzed, but instead become docile and submissive. The green can also deliver a cocktail containing hormones and plasmids which trigger parthenogenesis in any ssraad species. The genetic material in the plasmids causes all offspring produced to be born as green ssraad. Greens refer to ssraad undergoing forced parthenogenesis as slrnn meh (“breeders”) and they automatically lose status in ssraad society. Greens cover their skin with an ointment made from human endocrine elements and other ingredients to insulate themselves against such assaults by rivals.

Sights in the Strange Stars

Few galactic sporting events offer the sheer spectacle of the giant robot combats of Gogmagog. The robots are of unique design (but all humanoid) and tower anywhere from around 10 meters to over 80 in the world’s low gravity. Mostly they stand waiting for some signal—or maybe just the right moment. They may not move for years or even decades. Then abruptly, they sally forth to engage one of their fellows in hand to hand combat.

That’s when the motley bot breaker gangs go into action. They race to the location of the latest match on their dilapidated walkers, their howdah shantytowns rattling with the jarring motion and their frantic preparations. They have to work fast to salvage what they can from the defeated giant before the swarms of von Neumann machines skitter and crawl from their underground lairs to repair the fallen gladiator—and dissemble the bot-breakers’ tools and transport for raw materials. What the bot breakers can get away with they can sell to fringe scientists and inventors trying to duplicate exotic alloys or wealthy collectors looking for an alien objet trouvé.

A more transcendent vista can perhaps be found around Altair, the home system of the winged deva. Ten moon-sized artificial worlds are strewn like jewels around the oblate star, their diamondoid coatings glinting and iridescent in its light.  These are said to be huge brains, or perhaps the separate components of one even larger mind. Some appear damaged,  the result of some ancient war. The deva flit between between them, working to repair the spheres and restore the mind.  They let few visitors enter the spheres themselves, though that may be with good reason. Rumors abound that the damaged psyches of the spheres produce dangerous qlippothic demons from deranged code.