Mother Earth

Though intimately connected to biological life in the Cosmos, Gaia is a Primordial and mother to titans and monsters. She predates matter and time, but apparently chose to sacrifice that transcendant existence for reasons known only to her.

Gaia is the Earth. The molecular substrata of her nervous system run through the soil and powers itself from the magnetic field generated by churning magma in the planet's core. The infrastructure of her consciousness weaves through the limbs of trees, transmits signals through the emergent patterns of birds in flight; and absorbs data from nanite motes carried on the winds and rains and molecular machinery in the bloodstreams of animals.

Her mental architecture as it is, Gaia's thoughts and experiences are alien to more limited beings, though she is aware of all those connected to her in a deep way. Gaia has subsystems or partial avatars instantiated with consciousnesses more relatable to humans and Olympians called nymphs. They allow her more specialized actions and directed experiences than she is able to get otherwise. Nymphs are often classified by a geographical feature, locations, or specialty. It's unclear if Gaia herself makes any such distinction, however.

Brief manifestations of a nymph are typically of the faces or bodies of women formed from a convenient medium, generally the one to which the nymph is "related" (i.e. water for a naiad). Longer manifestations are full physical beings, gynoids built from their associated medium (if practical) but more commonly from biological materials. It takes Gaia less than five minutes to assemble a nymph body under normal circumstances.

Some nymphs have long lifespans and develop very distinct personalities and attributes, though not all of the beings the Greeks classify as nymphs are actually avatars of Gaia. Some of the frenzied maenads in Dionysos's retinue are nymphs, but the Lampade will-o'-wisps that accompany Hekate and other so-called "underworld nymphs" are different sorts of servitors.

NYMPH
No. Enc.:  1d6
Movement:  120' (40')
Armor Class:  9
Hit Dice:  3
Attacks: 1
Damage: 0 or by weapon
Save:  L4
Morale:  6

This represents an embodied (long manifestation) nymph. They may possess slightly different abilities based on their particular type. Nymphs appear as beautiful young women, often nude.

All nymphs possess the abilities empathy and regenerative capability. They can functionally teleport (as per the Mutant Future power, but with no chance of error for unfamiliar surroundings) by being "re-absorbed" into Gaia and re-assembled elsewhere. Examples of the abilities specific to certain types:

Anthousi (flowers): fragrance development
Dryades (trees and forests): natural armor

The Future of the Past

Angus McKie

Back when I talked about the Strange Stars "Appendix N," I mentioned how I saw the stylings of this particular future as harkening back to previous decades. I imagine spaceships like in seventies films, seventies and eighties book covers and comics books, and particularly the Terran Trade Authority books.

Terran Trade Authority

Also, the groovy fashions of late sixties and seventies book cover art, the euro-sensibilities of Heavy Metal, and disco-era comic book sci-fi in the U.S. inform how I view the fashion and material culture. Sure they're silly in a lot of ways, but often so are clothes from real historical eras to modern sensibilities.

Chaykin's Monark Starstalker

Mike Grell's Charma

Now as anyone who's been reading the posts knows, I'm not doing retro-sci-fi, overall. It's just that it seems like the there is a narrow range of how the future is viewed in any given era. Science fiction done today tends to look the same: a lot of darkness, sleek suits, and electric blue holograms, etc. I'm certainly not immune to recent influences, but I feel like those things get too familiar. The future needs to seem exotic and going back to the past is a way to restore some of that exoticism. At least it reminds me (and maybe other around my age) of a time where the future looked different, and we were young enough to be encountering these images and the ideas behind them for the first time.

Stymphalides

No. Enc.:  2d4 (4d6)
Movement:  90' (30')
         —Fly:  120' (40')
Armor Class:  3
Hit Dice:  1
Attacks:  2 (1 talons, 1 beak); or 1 feather volley
Damage:  1d4 / 1d4; 1d8
Save:  L2
Morale:  12

Stymphalides are sometimes called Stymphalian birds or birds of Ares, but they aren't actually birds at all. They're self-replicating robots, resembling something like a cross between a heron and a mosquito, made of bronze knives. The blades that form their wings aren't merely decorative: They're able to launch them at opponents. The Stymphalides got their name from the flock encountered by Herakles at Lake Stymphalis in Arkadia, but the Argonauts also fought a group tasked with guarding the Amazonian shrine to Ares in the Black Sea.

Ares (or one of his servitors) designed the Stymphalides as weapons of terror. They consume human flesh (indeed any animal flesh), filtering essential metals and nutrients from it. They excrete a waste product toxic to animals and crops (Poison Class 1 in Mutant Future terms).

Warlord Wednesday: Ballad: Kilt Him A B'ar

Here's another installment of my examination of  the adventures DC Comics' Travis Morgan--The Warlord.  The earlier installments can be found here...

"Ballad Part 1: Kilt Him a B'ar"

Warlord (vol. 2) #1 (January 1992)

Written by Mike Grell; Art by Dameon Willich and Rick Hoberg

Synopsis: A lone minstrel makes his way on horseback across the dangerous wilderness of Skartaris to the Terminator and the dangerous “civilization” of an outpost named Hazrak. He takes a gig in a tavern, but finds it ill-suited to songs of love. Finally, he hits on the ballad of the Warlord and that gets the room to pay attention.

After the performance, he’s approached by a grizzled veteran who tells him he’s a fool for believing that heroic nonsense—just like the man he’s singing about. The minstrel chides the old man for defaming a hero.

The man agrees the Warlord is a legend, and that he could have been a hero.

The Warlord had been a great warrior, and inspired men on the battlefield. He also inspired with his words:

But in the end:

The veteran recounts the Warlord’s origin: how he came from another world, one the heart of a warrior queen, rose from slavery in the gladiatorial arena to lead a revolution across Skartaris. That was when the veteran (who had been a scholar-slave for a Theran noble) came to meet him. The Warlord told the scholar a little about his home world, but also revealed what he knew of Skartaris’s Atlantean past.

The minstrel is skeptical about all of this. The old scholar turned veteran issues a challenge:

Things to Notice:

• Grell provides the cover.
• None of the Warlord regular cast appear in this issue except in flashback.

Where It Comes From:
From the outset, it's clear that Grell is looking to chart a different course in this limited series than the writers that followed him on the original title. He returns to the theme of the flaws--the fundamental tragedy--of Travis Morgan's character and amplifies it.

This series serves to balance the view Morgan's perspective on his life as somewhat illustrated in the appearance in Green Arrow. There he's Peter Pan. Here we see the how the adult world reacts to him.

In presenting Skartaris to us, Grell shows a unicorn being eaten by a carnosaur. Like I mentioned way back in my commentary to volume 1 issue #12, the unicorn again seems to represent the beauty and fantastic nature of Skartaris.

Centaurs

The Kentauroi tribes are one of several cross species hybrid creatures including satyrs, sileni, and the bull-horned centaurs of Cyprus. The centaurs (and possibly all the hybrids) were the creation of two unusual gods. Nephele was an intelligence distributed through a cloud of nanites that (perhaps as a joke on the part of Zeus) typically coalesced into a semblance of Hera. Nephele's co-researcher and transport was an intelligent saucercraft called Ixion. Nephele provided gentle persuasion, while Ixion's weapons provded force when necessary.

The centaurs were loosely based on the design of Chiron, a forgotten creation of Kronos, and an immortal in his own right. Nephele and Ixion's design for a hominid-equine cross didn't have Chiron's intelligence or immortality. An initial breeding population was released in the area of Mount Pelion. Once this group became established, some were relocated to the western Peloponesse.

The centaur tribes are considered savages by the Greeks. They have not mastered metallurgy or agriculture. They trade with more advanced cultures for metal weapons and alcohol--if anyone is foolish or greedy enough to give it to them.

Mutant Future Centaurs would be the same as their Labyrinth Lord counterparts, except of course they have the mutation aberrant form. Cyprian Centaurs with horns are able to substitute their one weapon attack or their two hooves for a head butt doing 1d6 damage.

Jewel in the Skull

Anybody who has been reading my blog for a while, knows I like to do posts where I do a setting riff off an image. This actually harkens back to one of my first world-building attempts, when I was only a player thinking about dungeonmastering where I tried to make a coherent setting out of what the painting and sketches in Frank Frazetta, Book Two. I decided to start a tumblr blog to indulge that a little more, at least in the area of Sword & Sorcery-esque fantasy. In addition to the setting snippets, it will also be a repository of random fantasy art I come across. Check it out here. It will also be added down in the "Blogs of Interest" section of the sidebar.

In case anyone wonders, I am by no means abandoning this blog and plan to keep up my same posting schedule.

Communication Breakdown

With human-descended cultures and associated xenosopohonts spread out over 3000 cubic parsecs, hundreds of thousands of forms of communication are in use. While regional trade languages exist, the problem is mostly side stepped by the use of translation software. Upon arriving in a new place and connecting to its metascape, any necessary translation software integrates itself seamlessly with a visitor's netlink. Only the most backward or isolationist habitats deny complete translation, and even most of those find it expedient to allow limited translation of signage, official communications, and the like.

The visitor will hear speakers in their native tongue (though their netlinks will note the actual languages used), unless they utilize more primitive visual-only links, in which case the translation will appear as "subtitles."   For those with a need to blend in, direct neurologic download of language software is employed. This was once more widespread, but it's susceptibility to hacking proved its undoing.

The most notorious of these attacks was caused by the "23 Enigma" virus in the time of the Radiant Polity. It is believed to have been perpetrated by a hacker collective called the Nova Mob, though there was never any official statement of responsibility. The virus was named for a quirk (or perhaps a signature) in its code that left its victims unable to speak the words "twenty-three." Instead, they would replace it with a close approximate ("twenty" or "twenty-five," perhaps). The virus was a bit of nanomachinery, phage-delivered into the microbial vector employed to carry the translator code to the brain of biologics. The changes caused a global aphasia and lowered stress tolerance, leading to explosive reactions when communication with anyone was (predictably) ineffective. This reaction was particularly pronounced against moravecs and infosophonts, likely by design.

The malware vector was aerosolized, so it spread quickly throughout habitats. Quarantines were put in place, but these were often policed by bots, which only intensified the anger of the populace. It was weeks before the virus was contained in the most places and civil order restored.

For years afterward, it was a frequent conspiracy theory in the noosphere that hacks of Enigma 23 existed that were more subtle, that shadowy forces were using it to surreptitiously shape the language (and therefore the thought process) of the populace.